Reset The Future: How To Fix Terminator Salvation

Released in 2009, Terminator Salvation was the first of a proposed trilogy that would, unlike its predecessors, focus on the future war between Skynet and the survivors of Judgement Day. There's a a lot to like in this mostly forgotten entry in the Terminator franchise. The cinematography and sound design are fantastic. Christian Bale's performance is committed and intense. Even Sam Worthington seems to be successfully channeling Mel Gibson's Mad Max circa 1981. So why didn't this film fare better with critics? And what might have been done differently to mitigate these problems?

 

 

What Death Tastes Like

From the very first scene, we know something's not right. There's no Sarah Connor, no John Connor, no T-800 to remind us that this is a Terminator movie. Instead, we're introduced to Marcus Wright, Sam Worthington's killer with a heart of gold. He's in the process of selling his body to Cyberdyne Systems' rep. Dr Serena Kogan (Helena Bonham Carter). In case you didn't get that Marcus is on death row, and the ill-fitting bald cap didn't give away that Serena is dying of cancer, Marcus tells her he's 'not the only one with a death sentence'. Still didn't catch the fact that Serena has cancer? Luckily, Marcus clears that up for us with his next line - "Do you think I'm gonna cure your cancer?" Everything about this scene seems superfluous. Outside of a brief mention of his brother and two cops being dead because of him, there's no real explanation as to how Marcus got here, nor is there any information regarding what Cyberdyne intends to do with Marcus' body (pre Skynet). Is Marcus the only prisoner that Selena is petitioning, and if so, what makes him so special? Does Marcus have any last words before receiving a state sanctioned lethal injection? Nope. All we get from this scene are the broad strokes of an anti-hero protagonist and a very strong sense that we'll see Marcus later in the film with some terminator-esque superpowers. So when we get the big reveal at the end of Act 2 that Marcus is one of a new breed of human/terminator hybrids, not a single person in the audience is surprised. There's also no stakes, because we know that:

a) John Connor won't die

b) Kyle Reese won't die

c) Marcus is a robot and won't die

 

What if, instead of revealing this in the first five minutes of the movie, we start the film at the beginning of Scene 2, with the Resistance choppers heading towards the secret Skynet lab? The movie then opens with an awesome action sequence and we focus our introduction on John Connor. Even better if all the dialogue is stripped from the start of the scene (especially the pointlessly obvious "Connor is on the ground" line, and the ridiculous exposition dump as they're rappelling into the underground lab). 

 

"Don't forget to do the one thing we explicitly came here to do!"

The first time we'd see Marcus is when he escapes the destroyed lab, muddy, naked and screaming. That way, it would seem like he's just one of many prisoners from the facility and we could be drip fed his backstory throughout the movie. We wouldn't get our first clue that he's part machine until the magnetic mine field sequence; provided, of course, you haven't already purchased the Marcus action figure (with robot hand) or the 'Terminator Gear' Battle Damage Marcus Mask and Endo Fist.

 

 

Who's Number One?

In this future world, prophesied leader of the Resistance John Connor has been relegated to second fiddle. There's a whole submarine full of powerful men, like Michael Ironside, that he has to answer to. Now, having seen the previous films in the franchise, we know it won't be long before Connor takes his place as leader of the Resistance. Why would Skynet go to all the trouble of sending robots back in time to kill Connor's mother if he wasn't solely responsible for Skynet's downfall? Come to think of it, why would John Connor be on an intercepted Skynet kill list at all? At this point in the timeline, how does Skynet even know that Connor is their second biggest threat? Maybe because he's the one broadcasting to survivors, rallying them under the banner of Resistance and prophesying  the coming of the T-800? That makes sense. In fact, John Connor is really just a figurehead, a voice on a radio that people are willing to listen to and follow. He is dangerous because he gives the humans hope (and some crafty tips on how to defeat the terminators). 

 

Which brings me to the second major gripe with this film - why is Kyle Reese Number One on Skynet's kill list? At this stage, Skynet has not sent any terminators to the past. They don't even know they'll lose the war, which precipitates their use of time travel. So how the hell do they know that Kyle Reese will one day travel back to 1984 using Skynet brand technology and impregnate Sarah Connor, who will give birth to and train the one man left on Earth who could defeat them? That's right - they can't. This scenario also gives us one of the dumbest lines in the movie, in which John Connor says, “Kill Kyle Reese, reset the future. No John Connor.” Why is John Connor referring to himself in the third person? Was this line originally scripted for Bryce Dallas Howard? It makes Connor sound super narcissistic, and also casts doubt on his attack on Skynet at the end of the film. Is he coordinating this assault to save the prisoners held within the compound, or is he only concerned with ensuring the safety of Kyle Reese and therefore himself?

The whole plot involving Kyle Reese is flawed, but it can be salvaged. All it requires is some trimming of dialogue, and Kyle Reese becomes just some teenage kid who's in the same sort of life threatening danger as every other teenage kid in this future apocalypse. And to be clear - if Skynet were serious about ensuring John Connor was never born, all they need to do is send a terminator back to when Skynet invented time travel and, like, ask Skynet not to.

 

Don't Look At Me Like That, Star

The first humans that Marcus finds after escaping the lab are Kyle Reese and his mute young friend, Star. Star continues the tradition of introducing a child character into an established science fiction franchise with the clear intention of providing an emotional bond for our grizzled lead (and a cynical attempt to broaden its target demographic). Star does not take on the surrogate daughter role as Newt does in Aliens, nor does she represent innocence lost, like the Feral Kid in Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior. 

 

Like Radar O'Reilly in M*A*S*H, Star's ears perk up whenever a terminator attack is imminent - on three separate occasions, no less. Not early enough to help those around her, but just enough to imbue her character with some form of magical purpose. Inexplicably, she is also on hand to remind John Connor that he rigged a bunch of explosives that need to be detonated at the end of the film. These inclusions feel calculated and insincere, and detract from the movie. Again, this is an easy fix, requiring a few seconds of unnecessary footage to be excised. And if the movie really wanted to stand head and shoulders with its peers, maybe it should have avoided the fake-out death scene where Star is hurled through the air during the giant harvester robot sequence, and instead followed through with an actual death. This could have added much needed gravitas and upped the stakes for the remainder of the film. If cute, innocent Star can die, then no-one in the movie is safe.
 

Everybody Deserves a Second Chance

The final problem that hinders Terminator Salvation is the ending, which sees our protagonist sacrifice his life to save John Connor - the person he was programmed to assassinate. Firstly, lets overlook the stupidity of that plot point, and the fact that Connor receives a heart transplant in a tent while relative strangers look on. Instead, let's focus on Marcus' act of sacrifice. I'm sure I'm not alone in feeling that it was John Connor who was supposed to die in this scene, not Marcus. It's no coincidence that the savior of humanity has the initials JC (like a certain biblical character). I wouldn't be surprised if the original script had Connor die and be replaced by (or resurrected as) Marcus, which makes sense when you recall the footage from Terminator 2: Judgement Day of a somewhat robotic looking John Connor surveying the field of battle.

 

 

As stated earlier, John Connor is merely a figurehead of the Resistance - a voice on a radio. There's no reason why he couldn't have been replaced by someone else, as long as he was able to continue delivering his message of hope to the survivors. This could have been a great set up for the second movie in this future war trilogy, in which Marcus has to step into the shoes of Connor and continue the fight against the machines. He already has an established relationship with Kyle Reese, so it would make sense for him to trust Kyle to travel to the past in the third film to protect Connor's mum - with none of the baggage of knowing that Kyle was Connor's father.

 

Terminator Salvation rides the line of guilty pleasure trash and a good movie. All it would take is a small nudge in the right direction, and it might have been a memorable film. More importantly, it could have staunched the flow of awful Terminator movies that have been made since its release.

Hot Take: The Empire Strikes Back Ruined Star Wars

From the lazy clichés of Return of the Jedi, through the disappointment of the prequels and continuing into the awful sequel trilogy and Disney Plus era (minus Andor), the root of most Star Wars plot, script, dialogue and performance problems can be traced all the way back to 1980 and The Empire Strikes Back. Specifically, to three major events in the movie:

1. The reveal of Darth Vader's relationship to Luke Skywalker
2. Yoda's ability to lift a spaceship with the power of his mind
3. Luke and Leia's telepathic connection

 

"It is your destiny."

The retconned revelation that Darth Vader had not killed Luke's father, but instead (spoiler alert) was his father, precipitated a slew of farcical revelations in subsequent Star Wars media. In Return of the Jedi, we discover that Luke's hitherto secret love interest, Princess Leia, is his sister. The Rise of Skywalker doubles down on the family ties with super powered scavenger Rey from dusty Jakku turning out to be Emperor Palpatine's granddaughter. And according to Pablo Hildago's Visual Dictionary of the movie, Jannah is Lando's daughter apparently? Why does everyone need to be related to someone important? Rian Johnson asked a similar question with The Last Jedi, back when Rey was the abandoned child of nobodies and a random orphan with a broom could use the force. The takeaway was that anyone with drive and ambition can make something of their life, regardless of where or who they came from - just like a certain farm boy from Tatooine (until Empire ruined that).

 

Darth Vader's paternity not only sets the 'royal lineage' standard for Star Wars content to come, it also ruins the credibility of A New Hope. If Darth Vader is Luke Skywalker's dad, and Obi-Wan Kenobi's job was to hide Luke from him, why would he foster him out to Vader's mother's step-family on Tatooine, the same planet where Vader grew up as Anakin Skywalker? And more importantly, why give him the surname Skywalker? Most people in hiding tend to use a less obvious name than the surname of the person they're hiding from.

 

"There is no try."

While sneaking around the Death Star in A New Hope, Obi-Wan uses the force to knock a small object over, creating a noise that distracts a couple of stormtroopers. Luke's proton torpedoes' trajectory alters unnaturally when firing at the Death Star's exhaust port, suggesting the use of the force to move them. Both are subtle examples of the telekinetic power of the force prior to Empire.

 

In The Empire Strikes Back, Luke makes his lightsaber fly to his hand and lifts small objects off the ground while meditating. Vader throws boxes at Luke and Yoda lifts a spaceship out of a swamp. All of these moment require concentration and effort. Yoda spoils it all when he tells Luke that "size matters not". Despite creating entertaining visuals, this proclamation opens the door to all ridiculous events in Star Wars media that follows, including (but not limited to):

• Mace Windu destroying a battalion of battle droids in Tartakovsky's Clone Wars cartoon
• Darth Vader grabbing a spaceship in mid air in Obi-Wan Kenobi
• Rey doing the same thing in The Rise of Skywalker

 

If size matters not, then anything is possible. They might as well move an entire planet off its axis. Use moons as projectile weapons. No need to build another Death Star, just drag the sun a few million kilometres closer to your enemy's home world. The unlimited power potential of the force creates the same problem that The Matrix's sequels faced - once you've shown your protagonist to be all powerful (like Neo at the end of the first movie), there are no longer any stakes and nowhere for your story to go.

 

"I've got a bad feeling."

In A New Hope, a blindfolded Luke is barely able to defend himself against a training droid with zen and the art of the force. Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi feels a disturbance in the force when Alderaan is obliterated. Darth Vader senses a presence on the Death Star that he recognises as his old master. And finally, Obi-Wan's ghost tells Luke to turn off his targetting computer and trust in the force. Luke doesn't have a 'feeling' that this is something he should do, he's instructed to do it by someone who has become one with the force and "more powerful than you could possibly imagine". Compare these events to the following from The Empire Strikes Back, where the force is now responsible for all coincidence, insight and purpose:

• Luke crash lands his ship on Dagobah in walking distance from Yoda's house
• Luke is drawn to the one place on Dagobah where the dark side lives - also in walking distance from Yoda's hut
• Luke communicates telepathically with Leia, who then knows exactly where to look for him when he's hanging off the outside of Lando's gigantic gas refinery. 

 

As a direct result of these events, the force has become shorthand for plot contrivance - the deus ex machina of Star Wars. In The Rise of Skywalker, how did Finn know the navigation beacon had shifted from the ground tower to one on a single Star Destroyer amongst literally thousands? The force. In The Force Awakens, how did Rey find Luke's/Anakin's lightsaber in Maz Kanata's castle? And what about Ochi's One-Eyed Willy doubloon style wayfinder finding knife in The Rise of Skywalker, that Rey was able to find on two separate occasions - once in a hidden, underground tunnel that she accidentally fell into, and again in Kylo Ren's apartment in a massive spaceship? The force of course.

 

And one more thing...

 

"Don't get cocky." 

Luke has graduated, in the space of three years (or several months, depending on which source material you prefer), from a brand new pilot in the rebellion to Commander. In the navy (whose structure the military hierarchy of Star Wars appears to emulate), it takes approximately twelve years to be promoted to that rank. Return of the Jedi compounds this problem, with both Han and Lando promoted to General. This idea that protagonists in the Star Wars universe are instantly elevated to high ranking positions based on their proximity to important events carries over to the sequel trilogy, with ex-stormtrooper Finn becoming General by the end of The Rise of Skywalker. What's he ever done that's so special to deserve this promotion? Coordinated the dumbest attack of all time - riding horses on the outside hull of a spaceship that could tilt and flip them off at any moment? In times of war, when losses create positions that need to be filled, it's understandable that soldiers are promoted faster than usual. Finn's promotion to General, however, seems more like something a kid might do while playing with the action figures rather than something that could actually happen in a single year.

 

"Rebellions are built on hope."

There's no denying that Empire is a great movie, maybe even the best of all the Star Wars. It's because of this greatness, that those which have come since have attempted to emulate it. In doing so, they've missed the point entirely. Empire isn't great because of the Vader/Skywalker revelation, nor the super powers bestowed on force users. The Empire Strikes Back is great because it contains charismatic characters with realistic motivations, and it gives them room to breathe and grow. More importantly, it treats its audience like adults. The only contemporary Star Wars that understands this is Andor. Empire may have spawned a multitude of pale imitations. It may even have ruined Star Wars. Thankfully, Rogue One and two seasons of Andor saved it.

 

Hey Google, Skip Track: Kate Bush Edition

So you're a big fan of Kate Bush and have been for many years. You're aware that she has a massive cult following and hordes of die-hard fans. In recent years, you've also noticed a resurgence in her popularity amongst hipsters and the mainstream (thanks to Stranger Things and her induction into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame). Yet outside of social media, you don't know a single person who likes her music. It occurs to you that you could convert some of your more open-minded friends - ones who are not only willing to give her a listen, but also put in the extra time and effort required to appreciate what might be considered an acquired taste. If you were to recommend certain songs to pique their interest, which would you choose?

 

The origins of your love for Kate Bush and her music are tied to your youth - watching her live performance of Breathing on your family's VHS copy of 1986's Comic Relief, the music video for Peter Gabriel's Don't Give Up on Australian Countdown in 1987, the juxtaposition of This Woman's Work and the penultimate scene of John Hughes' underrated gem, the 1988 film She's Having a Baby. If you're being totally honest with yourself, your interest in Kate Bush is also closely linked, on a more abstract level, to her personality and 'physicality'; neither of which are particularly evident in recent years. Twenty- or thirty-something Kate is very different to fifty or sixty year old Kate. For this reason, let's exclude Bush's later work - the pointless lispy revisionism of Director's Cut and the tedious self indulgence of 50 Words for Snow.

 

From her debut album, The Kick Inside (1978), to Aerial (2005), there are plenty of great songs you could share with your friends. The question might then be, which should you definitely not recommend? What are the Top 10 Kate Bush songs that new listeners should avoid?

 

10) There Goes a Tenner

This unpopular single from The Dreaming (1982) may seem like low-hanging fruit, but it would be remiss of me to leave it off this list. Bush has a proven record for including entertaining fictional narratives in her songs; however, comparing this heist/crime tale to another on the same album, Night of the Swallow, it's clear that There Goes a Tenner is vastly inferior. It's not helped by the embarrassing cockney accent she affects (and just as quickly drops, sometimes mid-sentence) throughout the song, nor the fact that she has produced a track that sounds like a children's novelty song; anachronistic and outdated, even upon its release. And time has only compounded that problem.

 

9) The Big Sky

More chorus than song, The Big Sky is the fourth and final single released from Hounds of Love (1985). The worst thing about The Big Sky is that it's the least interesting track on an otherwise perfect album. 

 

8) Heads We're Dancing

This song from The Sensual World (1989) answers the age old question - What would you do if you met a guy and he asked you to dance by flipping a coin and he was charming and a really good dancer and then you found out the next day that it was Adolf Hitler? According to the lyrics of this track, you would laugh apparently. And so you should. A premise as flimsy as this, that relies on you knowing who Hitler is, but knowing nothing about his fruity little moustache, deserves to be laughed at.

 

7) Delius (Song of Summer)

Appearing on Bush's much maligned second album, Lionheart (1980), Delius (Song of Summer) is inspired by the English composer Frederick Delius, who died in 1934. The casual listener is unlikely to realise that the male voice in the song is quoting Delius himself, from a documentary that Bush saw when she was ten years old. All they would hear is what appears to be an old man clearing his throat, some operatic nonsense about syphilis, and a drum machine loop that clicks along like Chinese water torture. Christine Kelley wrote an incredibly detailed and compelling account of Delius (Song of Summer) and its muse here, making Bush's song seem like a work of Delius-like genius. To me, it's the aural equivalent of a head cold.

 

6) In The Warm Room

Also appearing on Lionheart, In The Warm Room sounds like she's performing to half a dozen drunk and lonely men in a dingy piano bar. Even if this were meant as an homage to or satire of sultry lounge singers, it's unforgivably dull and a little bit gross. If not for it being on a Kate Bush album, chances are you wouldn't be listening to it.

 

5) Egypt

In this song from the album Never For Ever (1980), a middle class white woman fantasises about the exotic otherness of the East. There has been some attempt to offset its gushing lyrics with a dark undertone, which was notably emphasised in the video produced for Bush's televised Christmas Special in 1979. Stock footage of pyramids and the Sphinx are intercut with contemporary imagery of dereliction and detritus; the fashionable myth of Egypt, idealised by western housewives of the seventies and eighties, vs the reality of a North African country grappling with rampant poverty. The only saving grace of this song is Bush's video - her cosplaying in 'Arabic' attire and mugging for the camera against a green screen (bug-eyed and blowup doll mouth) is comedy gold.

 

4) Bertie

You know that one boy in school - you look at him and think, there's a future sex pest. He's malicious, sneaky and a compulsive liar; and due to the fact that his mum thinks the sun shines out of his butt hole, he never has to face the consequences of his actions. Instead, she will inevitably play the victim card and claim her precious son is being unfairly targeted by the teachers. Bertie, from the album Aerial, sounds exactly like that. In it, Bush sings to her seven year old son like she's the first person to ever experience childbirth. You can read between the lines, however, as she prefaces her description of him as being "the most beautiful" with "the most wilful". This kid sounds like a spoilt brat. The song itself sounds like Bravely Bold Sir Robin from Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

 

3-1) Big Stripey Lie | Why Should I Love You? | You're The One 

It's difficult to split the three tracks that close Kate Bush's 7th album, The Red Shoes (1994). Any of them could potentially be considered Worst Kate Bush Song Ever. I rarely actually make it past the track that precedes them, Constellation of the Heart, before the cringe factor increases to untenable levels.

 

Big Stripey Lie is Bush's attempt to plug into the edgy early nineties zeitgeist. It is dark, discordant and totally unconvincing; especially when compared to other guitar heavy alternative 'art' music that was being released around that time (Nirvana's In Utero, Nine Inch Nails' The Downward Spiral, Faith No More's King for a Day, Fool for a Lifetime). Even Tori Amos was doing an edgier Kate Bush than Kate Bush was in 1994.

 

Why Should I Love You?, an unsuccessful collaboration with Prince, sounds like Bush has lost all sense of taste and musically hit rock bottom. That is, until the final track of the album begins. You're the One reminds us that things can always get worse. Even the inclusion of The Trio Bulgarka, whose contributions to The Sensual World helped elevate many of its tracks, can't save this embarrassingly conventional song.

 

After focusing on Bush's worst songs, you might feel the need to go back and listen to something good. Better yet, watch the 1979 Christmas Special and remind yourself that Bush is at her best when riding the line between greatness and cheese. If you don't have access to the interwebs, you could always amuse yourself with this imaginary View-Master Double-Vue movie cartridge, which includes footage from the Christmas Special and her Tour of Life from the same year (if it were real).

 

 

You could even wear your favourite Kate Bush 1979 t-shirt while doing so (if they were also real). More custom designs can be found by following the link, or clicking one of the many convenient tabs at the top of your screen.

 

Think I've missed Bush's worst song? Been too harsh on your favourite? Then leave a comment below.

New Year, New T-shirts

Nine new designs have been added to the Custom T-shirts collection. You can check them out via the tab at the top of the screen, or roll your eyeballs downwards towards these low resolution images here:

 

 

You could also join my six non-bot followers on Instagram and be among the first to see each new design as it drops. I hear it's what all the cool kids are doing these days.

Aunty Entity: A Mad Max Saga

 

Nefertiti Owens is known by many names - NTT to her friends, Vice Principal Owens to her colleagues, Aunty to her students. She is renowned amongst the faculty and greater community as level-headed and compassionate. When Nutbush High is one of seven sister schools chosen to send their football team on a goodwill tour of the South Pacific, Aunty is the obvious choice to lead the delegation. Two other Nutbush faculty members are quick to volunteer as chaperones - Ton Ton Tatsuhara, Music teacher and leader of the school band, and Elvis Ford, the diminutive Master of Science. 

 

Along with the full contingent of thirty Nutbush Thunderbolts comes the mentally handicapped team mascot Blaster, wearing his oversized mask with its trademark black eye and Oxford boater.

 

The tour is doomed from the start. Petrol shortages are an ever present threat, as are protest marches and the riots that follow. A terrorist attack precipitates the team's early departure from Australia, on what would be the last flight out of Sydney before the power grid collapses nationwide. A brilliant flash of light illuminates the northern skyline and the worst turbulence Aunty has ever experienced forces the pilot, Captain Walker, to set the plane down before he's even reached cruising altitude. 

 

The plane grinds to a halt atop the encroaching sand dunes beyond the city limits. The survivors split into two groups - Walker leads a group of women and children into the outback in search of the watering hole he claims to have spied from the air, while the other group, led by Aunty and her Thunderbolts, salvage what they can from the wreckage, including their team kit bags full of football gear. Aunty takes the lead as they begin the arduous journey back towards Sydney, with Mr Ford riding high on Blaster's shoulders.

 

Three blistering days into the trek, they stumble across a railway line and follow the tracks deeper into the desert. The tracks take them to a fortified farm with an onsite biogas facility, inhabited by dozens of pigs. The farm contains several working wells and a hefty supply of food for livestock. The survivors descend upon the squealing denizens of the farm. Ford, convinced that the pigs are worth more alive than dead, persuades Aunty to stop the hungry survivors and, with the help of her loyal Thunderbolts, she is able to do so. The seeds of the first law of Bartertown are planted on that day.

 

Aunty fashions her Thunderbolts into her own personal army, tasked with keeping the peace in their growing commune. They build Thunderdome in honour of their home field in Nutbush, Tennessee. It is a multipurpose venue, used to dispense information, settle disputes, and entertain the masses that are drawn to the lights produced by Ford in the cavernous biogas facility beneath the farm. 

 

Buoyed by the surrogate body of Blaster and his usefulness in the new world order, Ford becomes Master. Aunty recognises Master's confidence for exactly what it is; a challenge for rule of Bartertown. She has also grown accustomed to the vaunted position the end of the world has elevated her to, and has no desire to give it up. Aunty understands that Master's knowledge is a valuable commodity, so with the help of her closest allies, she conspires to remove the brain and dump the body. All she needs is a willing and capable assassin to complete the task. One might even go so far as to say, a hero.

Perseus, Son of Zeus: The Original Nepo Baby

In Clash of the Titans, baby Perseus and his mother Danae are locked into a wooden coffin and set adrift on the Aegean sea by Perseus' grandfather Acrisius, king of Argos. Prophecy foretold of the death of Acrisius at the hands of his daughter's son, so to prevent her from becoming pregnant, he had kept Danae prisoner at his palace with no access to potential mates. Little did he know that Zeus, king of gods and randy old perv, would seduce and impregnate Danae in the form of a "golden shower". To punish Acrisius for attempting to murder his son and baby mama, Zeus had Poseidon unleash the Kraken on Argos,  killing Acrisius and fulfilling the prophecy; albeit in a very roundabout way.

 

 

Zeus proceeded to play an integral role in young Perseus' life, bestowing on him all the perks of being the son of a god. He ensured Perseus' safe passage to Seriphos, an island paradise where mother and child could while away the hours strolling naked along the beach, working on their tans and perfecting the art of trick riding. Perseus grows up to be a young man, blessed with good looks and an over abundance of self confidence. He is also totally devoid of charisma.

 

When spiteful sea god Thetis teleports Perseus to Joppa (specifically to force him to experience some 'real world' problems), Zeus demands that the gods gift Perseus with a super sharp sword, a shiny new shield, a robot owl sidekick, and best of all, a helmet that would make its wearer invisible. Perseus doesn't waste a single moment before using said helmet to break into the bedroom of the hottest chick in town, Princess Andromeda. Andromeda has been cursed by Thetis, so that any man who wishes to marry her must first answer a question, supplied by Thetis' love spurned son Calibos. Incorrect answers win the suitor death by immolation.

 

 

Upon discovering Andromeda's predicament, Perseus uses his invisibility helmet to sneak a look at the test. This enables him to stroll into the royal palace unannounced, present Andromeda with the severed hand of her ex-boyfriend, and win the competition. Thus, he can marry Andromeda and become king of Joppa - none of which would have been possible without a sprinkle of courage, a dash of magic, and a heaping pile of nepotism.

 

At its time of release, Clash of the Titans was clearly targeted at a young demographic, despite its depictions of violence, nudity and grotesque deformities. Action figures, colouring books and a board game were amongst the merchandise that was available; however, no official trading card set was released. To see more custom made trading cards from Clash of the Titans (and a bunch of others that never existed), follow the link or hit the tab at the top of the page.

The Secret Mutant Powers of Abuela Madrigal

"Welcome to the family Madrigal."

Columbia, the turn of the century. Alma meets Pedro Madrigal and falls in love. They marry and, soon after, Alma gives birth to triplets. The War of a Thousand Days wreaks bloody havoc across the country, eventually reaching the newly wed Madrigals' once idyllic town. They flee into the mountains by candlelight and are pursued by soldiers, hellbent with murderous intent. Pedro stands his ground and is killed. In a moment of intense grief, Alma's mutant gene is activated, resulting in a firestorm that engulfs the soldiers and reduces them to dust. Using her telekinetic powers, she constructs a rocky encanto that protects the villagers from their persecutors. At the centre of this fortified sanctuary, Alma creates a casita, into which she bestows a portion of her psyche; possessing it like a ghost would a haunted house. The candle that Pedro gave Alma before his death is also transformed into a physical manifestation of her gift. Alma convinces the townspeople and her family that this 'miracle' has come from an outside source, and that the candle must be protected - through "work and dedication." During periods of inner turmoil, however, the candlelight wavers and is inevitably extinguished when Alma's carefully constructed world collapses - not from the whim of an unseen godlike benefactor, but from her own emotional state of being.

"But something inside them is growing."

When the Madrigal triplets come of age, they each exhibit supernatural powers of their own: Julieta has the ability to heal, Pepa can control the weather and Bruno is precognitive. Alma's grandchildren also develop super powers, all except for Julieta's daughter Mirabel; or so it would seem. In fact, Mirabel's powers rival those of her abuela Alma; although, for the most part, they are dormant. Without conscious effort, Mirabel can move at extraordinary speed (or slow down time) and see events before they transpire. And at the end of the film, she subsumes Alma's telekinetic abilities.

"The unspoken, invisible pain."

Alma's trauma at the loss of her husband manifests as a compulsive need for perfection, to the detriment of her family. Of her children, Pepa is the most affected by her mother's psychosis, resulting in her own bipolar condition. Bruno also bears the psychological scarring caused by an emotionally distant parent. His OCD behaviour escalates when he exiles himself after having a vision of Mirabel as the catalyst for the dysfunctional Madrigal family's breakdown. 

 

"Under the surface, I'm pretty sure I'm worthless."

Alma's grandchildren are also affected by her matriarchal tendencies; particularly Mirabel's sisters, who buckle under the constant pressure of perfection that Alma demands. Isabella lashes out at those who would undermine the facade she has created to protect herself, while Louisa's self doubt eventually inhibits her super strength, rendering her powerless. When Mirabel discovers the secret truth of the Madrigal family, that the 'miracle' is intrinsically linked to her abuela's emotions, Alma dampens the abilities of all the Madrigals in retaliation. 

 

"The miracle is you, not some gift, just you."

It's only when Alma accepts responsibility for her toxic behaviour that her family's powers are restored, and Mirabel's powers truly awaken. Mirabel suffuses the new casita with part of her own psyche, supplanting Alma as the Madrigal matriarch and securing their dominion and rule over the village for another fifty years.

Music Video: Tess

Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the d’Urbervilles was published in 1891. Mediocre film adaptations of the novel were made in 1913 and 1924, before Roman Polanski’s Tess was released in 1979 to critical acclaim. Oxford based singer songwriter Tamara Parsons-Baker recorded her own take on the rural tragedy in 2012, and that same year, I edited Polanski’s footage to Tamara’s song. Some might go so far as to say the following music video was 120 years in the making. Others might say it took a little over two weeks.

Read-Along Record: Mad Max 1979

The redback spider. The inland taipan. The blue-ringed octopus. Nothing fills us Aussie Gen X’s with more pride than the knowledge that we’re taking our lives into our own hands every time we step into a rock pool, sit on a dunny or pull on a pair of Blundstones. Unless someone mentions the last of the V8 Interceptors. Or roving bands of larrikin bikie marauders who materialise every time you pop by the local milk bar for a pack of Winnie Blues and a Chiko Roll. Then we tear open our Mambo shirts to reveal our Southern Cross tattoos and sing the unofficial Australian national anthem (‘Khe Sanh’ by Cold Chisel) in our very best voices.

If they'd ever released a Read-Along Record of George Miller's 1979 classic Mad Max, I can guarantee it would have been on heavy rotation in my house. It might have even looked a little something like this...

To see more pop culture merchandise that never existed, crack open a VB longneck and click the READ-ALONG tab at the top of the page.

Two Hands And The Manic Pixie Dream Girl Misnomer

In Two Hands, Rose Byrne plays Alex, a teenage resident of Mudgee, New South Wales. While on holiday in Sydney’s Kings Cross to visit her brother, Rocket, she meets Jimmy (Heath Ledger), who sparks her interest. Alex and Jimmy’s romance blossoms over two sweltering days in 1999 and, by the end of the film, they are jetting off to the north coast together so that Jimmy can start a new life as an apprentice boat builder to Alex’s uncle. In the space of 48 hours, Alex appears to fall in love with Jimmy, despite the fact that all she knows about him is that he is a strip club tout with aspirations of working for the local crime boss. When he’s at his lowest, she offers him hope and redemption whilst never revealing her own goals or desires. Alex displays all the hallmarks of a manic pixie dream girl, but is she? Is there more to Alex than meets the eye?

 

Do Something

While on his way to his first job for gangster Pando, Jimmy is sidetracked by Alex, who he spots outside a Backpackers with a camera slung around her neck. She takes Jimmy’s photo, and when he takes her photo in return, he asks her to ‘do something’.

 

Her response can be viewed in several ways. At first, she appears blank, expressionless. Then, as we slowly dolly in towards Alex, her lips part and she is no longer an empty vessel, but a siren. At this moment, Jimmy sees her as a potential love interest rather than merely Rocket’s little sister. But look closer. Jimmy’s 'male gaze' may reduce her to an object of desire, but what she has actually done is remove her mask, revealing a depth of sadness and vulnerability. This is a damaged person who is crying out for help. Maybe it was when she heard that Jimmy had beaten Kiwi Bob in a bare knuckle boxing match, or when she saw him carefully roll a cigarette for a burly transvestite, that she realised that here was somebody who could protect her from whatever trauma she was running from in Mudgee. Here was someone who, if nudged in the right direction, might even be willing to leave his life in Kings Cross and join her as she runs away to greener pastures.

Where Ya Goin’?

Other than the occasional quirky hobby or eccentricity, one of the defining traits of the manic pixie dream girl is a lack of information regarding their interests or background. The same can be said to be true of Alex; except that she is given the opportunity to divulge this information on two occasions and chooses not to. First, when Jimmy asks her what it’s like to live in the country during their brief chat outside the Backpackers, and second, while she is literally waiting by the phone in Rocket’s apartment for Jimmy to call her. There, she is ‘cracked onto’ by Jimmy’s co-worker Les. Les is also a strip club tout who aspires to one day being ‘in’ with Pando’s crew. Les does what all men are led to believe is the right thing to do when meeting a woman (show an interest, ask questions, be a good listener). Again, Alex is reluctant to share any personal information and, as Les isn’t blessed with looks or charm, is rejected by Alex. She prefers her men to be humble, capable and good with their hands. 

What About Tonight?

On her date with Jimmy, Alex displays genuine concern for his predicament. The only interest that Jimmy shows in her is whether or not she will call her uncle for a job interview. Alex’s suggestion that he speak to her uncle may seem like an act of benevolence, but it is actually a very subtle expression of Alex’s desire and agency. By manipulating Jimmy for her own agenda, she proves herself to be more than just a catalyst for male change. Alex may not be a manic pixie dream girl, yet her treatment by Jimmy relegates her to that role; a role that she willingly plays to get what she needs. She is his ticket out of the hole he’s dug for himself in Kings Cross, and he is the safety net she needs to start her life over in a new town.

 

Are you good with your hands? Been for a dip recently at Bondi Beach in your jocks? Done a nice job on Kiwi Bob? Then this custom design based on Heath Ledger’s tee from the final act of Two Hands might be right up your alley.

 

More obscure t-shirt designs based on popular culture from the 70s, 80s and beyond can be found by clicking the tab at the top of this page.