Week Ending 5/22/26

I'm starting to think "Daredevil: Born Again" might be too Catholic for me. I never thought that while watching the Netflix iteration of Marvel's (flagship?) television series, though. Matt Murdock (Charlie Cox) and his Defenders friends were dealing with adversaries who would always ultimately end up in jail or dead. Justice was served regardless of his guilt. That guilt was actually Matt's part of evening the scales. But all that has changed now.

Why? Because this reboot is as much Wilson Fisk's (Vincent D'Onofrio) story as it is Murdock's. Both actors were instrumental to keeping the property alive. Both serve as executive producers. So, death is off the table and jail is merely a layover to be rectified by Dario Scardapane and his team of writers. Sure, it's a positive in the sense that hero and villain are on even footing when stakes are involved, but are they really stakes when the endgame is forever the start of a new bout?

I probably wouldn't mind asking these questions if this season released as the fifth chapter of the original run in 2020. Back then Trump was still more or less curtailed by the law and order of historical precedent. He still sought to keep up the appearance of legitimacy even as he worked behind the scenes to strip the country for parts. Now, though? With the media in his pocket, his own private army, and talk of prosecuting detractors for treason? Reality has caught up.

This truth is never more prevalent that the season finale "The Southern Cross" due to how it depicts its everyman revolution. You cannot watch a group of angry citizens charge into a New York City courthouse calling for the head of Mayor Fisk without thinking about January 6th. Except, of course, that these people are on the right side of history. But what's stopping the real criminal insurrectionists from seeing themselves on-screen instead? Or others from yelling hypocrisy?

It's a slippery slope because we can no longer separate fact from fiction as easily as we could pre-2021. We don't have trusted objective voices explaining the context and differences. We only have opportunists seeking any which way to exploit popular culture to better support their own ambitions. Because those paying attention know that Fisk's task force is ICE. But those already too far gone wrongly see them as what will replace ICE if democrats regain power.

And that brings me to the Catholicism of it all and the main through line running down this season's middle so it can serve as an epilogue to what happened during its troubled predecessor. Murdock is constantly talking about grace and mercy to keep himself from becoming Frank Castle. He keeps reminding himself about it as well as partner/girlfriend (finally) Karen Page (Deborah Ann Woll). He uses it to directly sermonize to the audience too.

There's a difference, though, between giving a guy like Lionel McCoy (Nathan Wallace) a second chance and letting Benjamin Poindexter (Wilson Bethel) off the hook. Don't get me wrong. I love the complexity that arises from the comparison. Asking yourself how circumstances lead someone to violence and how grace can teach them another way. But there's also a difference from providing that to someone who wants it and someone who doesn't.

It's why you can't just gloss over the fact that Matt asking Karen not to kill Poindexter for her own soul's sake is different than asking himself not to kill Fisk. Saving his own soul aside, the former is a hired hand working through the strings of manipulation to come out the other side. The latter is a remorseless monster actively trying to destroy beauty and decency in order to force his own vision for personal grandeur onto the world by enslaving it to his whims.

This moral gray turns red as the show approaches a compromise of mutual exile to prevent the murder of a principal character and set-up an inevitable third go-round. It's a dangerous precedent to accept on-screen considering the carnage Fisk is finally allowed to wreak let alone our current political climate. To offer a mad man covered in his victims' blood amnesty? No way. We're beyond Ford pardoning Nixon for "peace." The door to an encore must be slammed shut.

Again, though. This thinking is less about the content of the show and more about the context of its mirror. To watch it in a vacuum is a different story because it allows you to embrace the messaging and narrative propulsion on its own terms rather than a blueprint or treatise on reality. In that respect, this season is much better than the first—and not just because it's not trying to marry two different styles so Marvel isn't eating the entire budget twice.

This eight-episode arc is fully serialized and coherent. There are no subplots (Margarita Levieva and Camila Rodriguez still deal with the ramifications of Muse and Hector Ayala's deaths, but within the main plot's confines) or field trips (sorry, "With Interest" fans, although Bullseye's opening to "Gloves Off" is great). Everything is moving towards a courtroom showdown between Murdock and Fisk to either topple the latter from his perch or further entrench him upon it.

Newcomers Matthew Lillard and Lili Taylor are therefore less adversarial than pawns as his Mr. Charles and her Governor McCaffrey push Fisk's buttons. And returning actors Arty Froushan, Michael Gandolfini, and Genneya Walton aren't getting their own story thread to pursue as much as working through the loyalty oaths and betrayals inherent to the political machine (albeit with mortal stakes). I absolutely loved the guerrilla op-eds with a Fisk-mask caricature.

Give Scardapane a lot of credit for saving the show by crafting those bookends to season one last year and now finding a way to bring that arc to completion in a way that sets up a ton of potential drama for season three. It's not a full-blown self-contained success, but it effectively gets things on track for a fresh start with some surprising public revelations (and the re-introduction of two former Defenders). It's less trial drama and a lot more bloody action and profanity.

7/10

While Frank Castle (Jon Bernthal) was already "reborn" alongside Daredevil last year via cameo, the actor and his King Richard director Reinaldo Marcus Green reunite to give the character "one last kill" on his own terms. The result is a fifty-minute hack 'n' slash romp that renders its title comical as well as obsolete.

Is his "last kill" the final Gnucci male and therefore the final person tangentially related to the murder of his wife and kids? Or is it Ma Gnucci (a fantastic Judith Light) after she green lights his entire apartment complex for extermination to wreak her revenge? It's not the former since Frank kills dozens of extras during an extended climactic gore fest. So, maybe it is the latter ... just not yet.

What Bernthal and Green really do is find a way for Kevin Feige to position The Punisher as a potential ally to Peter Parker in Brand New Day. Because Frank has neither killed with impunity nor saved as a rule. His specific list of targets merely leads him to kill anyone guilty and save anyone innocent in his way. Having "one last kill" simply quiets the PTSD to stop him from eating his own gun.

Now, thanks to Andre Royo's Dre and his young daughter, however, Frank might also find purpose in protecting all innocent souls regardless of their proximity to his gun. Not that he'll need to stray far if Little Sicily's no holds barred war zone is any indication.

As for the PTSD—it's just exploited as a plot point. So, don't expect this chapter in Castle's story to say anything new. Its job is to replace the need for newcomers to watch his Netflix appearances. And yet I'd argue that route might strangely be safer for Brand New Day's target demographic than this bloodbath.

6/10

The spam links at the bottom of online articles these days love to spout how "thin is in" again. To see the imagery, however, shows that "emaciated" might be a more apt term. We are in an age of GLP-1 agonists now—medications that work wonders for those who need them and seem to suck the very life out of those who want them. That's what happens when sound science is appropriated as the next weight loss miracle drug.

Natalie Erika James' latest feature Saccharine isn't a horror story about Ozempic, though. No, its lead character Hana's (Midori Francis) cross to bear is less the number on her scale than the compulsion behind it. She's not alone. Her friend Josie (Danielle Macdonald) abuses ketamine (and screentime). Her crush Alanya (Madeleine Madden) obsesses about exercising. Her mom (Showko Showfukutei) is always cleaning. And her dad (Robert Taylor) is eating himself to death.

Hana's compulsion isn't the same as her father's per se. Yes, she finds herself gorging on sweets when anxiety and stress run high, but it's often a product of her inability to stop studying in medical school. Work is the addiction. Eating is the escape. Partially because she's grown up watching her dad destroy himself. Partially because her mom is always commenting on her weight. The self-loathing and insecurity are never far behind.

That's when an old friend arrives (Annie Shapero's Melissa) with talk of a new, unapproved pill called Gray. She shed everything in an insanely short period of time and wants to help Hana do the same because she was one of the few people who treated her like a human being rather than a pariah. Ever the scientist (and unable to afford the medication's exorbitant price), Hana attempts synthesizing her own. It's surprisingly much easier than she thought.

Why? Because Gray isn't some chemical compound. It's ash. Human ash. It obviously makes no sense on a practical level (what?!) or a scientific one (the sodium alone should make her want to eat more), but she's working on a cadaver in class and therefore has access to human remains to cremate and swallow. What's even crazier, however, is that it works. The weight is melting off even as her craving for food grows. There's just one dangerous side effect.

James does well to maintain a shroud of mystery where this issue is concerned. Is the woman Hana sees in the reflection of concave mirrors really there? Is she a "Hungry Ghost" like the ones her mother tries to ward off with an altar and offerings? Is it the psychological manifestation of a mind losing its grip on reality? While we'll eventually discover the answer, knowing it isn't necessary for "Bertha" to wreak havoc on Hana's daily life.

Blurring that line also helps drive home the fact that how issues like eating disorders and body dysmorphia manifest is less important than their cause. Sure, "Bertha's" presence allows for some truly creepy moments (when her form is visible) and impressive special effects (when it's not), but giving it a name won't alleviate the problem. Hana was suffering before the ash and she'll be suffering long after she stops. Healing is a process. There's no switch to flip.

Don't therefore get lost in the obvious genre trappings James uses to craft her horror. It's all extremely effective visually and thematically, but I'd be lying if I didn't say a lot of it was convenient insofar as giving Hana a target with which to fight. No, it's what happens around this main battle that sheds light onto deeper levels of understanding. Mom falling right back into routine upon returning from vacation. Dad's act of kindness making Hana angrier than before.

The sentiment at the center of Saccharine is that you "can't love someone into getting better." James talks about her own father's fight with demons that led to his health problems as a result of weight gain, so this is very personal to her. You can feel it in the details and examples of silent struggles throughout the film. And you must give Francis a ton of credit for portraying it with complete authenticity. Her shaky arm apology to Alanya towards the end is devastating.

And, speaking of that end, I did not anticipate where things ultimately go. I should have, though, considering all those markers showing how the issues on-screen aren't the kind that can be solved with a simple fix. Because it was never about "Bertha." She is simply the latest form of Hana's cope. Until she's able to understand and treat the root cause, something else will take over. Work. Food. Sex. Drugs. Ghosts. In the end, you're often harming yourself the most.

The film nicely balances its messaging with its theatrics to excite audiences with its gore and surrealism while also giving voice to pain that so many endure in silence. While there's no trigger warning on the film itself, the filmmakers do caution potential viewers in the press notes and encourage the media to list support contacts on their behalf. Because, regardless of the spiritual, literal, or figurative causes for Hana's actions, the impact is inevitable.

7/10

I visited Disney World during the 1980s. I only know because there are photos of my sister and I eating ice cream popsicles on a bench somewhere inside the theme park. I went back a couple more times at ages that allowed me to actually remember the experience, but we weren't going to Epcot anymore. In fact, we pretty much avoided that section altogether because we didn't care about the food or the more education-oriented rides.

So, I don't know if I ever knew about or saw Buzzy the animatronic kid sitting on his perch inside Cranium Command. Active inside the Wonders of Life pavilion between 1989 to 2007, the character was a "military" recruit training to pilot the brain of a hyperactive teenage boy. Was he popular enough to leverage nostalgia into making him a cult Disney icon? Not really. Not until the allure of a criminal investigation sparked a cultural reappraisal.

Joshua Bailey and Matthew Serrano's documentary Stolen Kingdom uses the mystery surrounding the unsolved 2018 theft of Buzzy to interview "urban explorer" hobbyists known for filming and photographing the backstage areas of live and abandoned attractions. Because, while Cranium Command would eventually be gutted and refurbished for future plans in 2019, it had simply been closed off to the public like a tomb for twelve years prior.

The movie explains how dismantling and disposing of old sections of the park is too exorbitant a cost to spend if the area isn't going to be flipped right away. So, Disney just walks away instead. They board them up and block them off to be forgotten by time. Their ethos centers on the idea that theme parks are living organisms in constant motion rather than museums—a sentiment many fans take umbrage with due to a belief that every ride possesses historical significance.

This is why those like Dave Ensign and the late Ed Barlow (known in Disney lore circles as "Hoot and Chief") began to test the boundaries of their access as card-carrying employees of the Mouse House. Unable to accept that Horizons (their favorite ride) could be destroyed overnight on a financial whim, they decided to exit their cart and roam the stages to capture every inch of detail and artistry. It was dangerous fun that turned them into unwitting archivists.

Not everyone getting into the trespassing game for internet notoriety and YouTube views are as lovingly motivated, however. We meet Adam the Woo (via archive footage), The Dark Side of Disney author Leonard Kinsey, Matt Sonswa, and Patrick Spikes too. Each craved the excitement of satisfying their curiosity. Each was inevitably banned from Disney Parks for life. And one became Orange County's prime suspect in Buzzy's disappearance.

The videos and photos shared by these men prove a treasure trove of illegal access to places like the defunct Discovery Island. We hear their working manifestos as far as giving audiences what they want and/or "helping to ensure Disney strengthens their security measures." And we stare slack-jawed at the hubris necessary to not only publicly post evidence of their transgressions but also antagonize the law enforcement agencies they barely escaped.

Sonswa is the nonchalant rebel of the group who's as unapologetic about what he did as he is adamant that his only crime was trespassing. Ensign is the pioneer with an actual attachment to the place who only ever started this trend as a means to honor the past (and his story surrounding Ed's death is heartbreaking). And Spikes is the villain forever sneering as he goes on record to admit he stole a lot more than he was ever convicted of stealing.

Buzzy is therefore an entry point into the origins of a growing subculture of fans willing to put their freedom on the line to experience that which they are barred from experiencing. Sure, the logistics necessary to even think about taking this estimated six-hundred-pound robot intrigues while its journey leading to an ex-NBA star fascinates, but Stolen Kingdom's real draw is the combination of these men's personalities and pathologies.

It's also a must-see for so-called "pixie dusters" (the Disney-heads who make Walt's legacy their whole identity, not the motorcyclist fairies in Onward). From images of old manuals stolen and sold on the black market to a look at Joel Magee's "largest privately owned collection of Disney Parks memorabilia in the world" (a very specific title he'd trademark if he was able), it's an extensive catalog. Sure, a lot of it's already on YouTube, but it's nice to see everything in one place.

Despite Bailey and Serrano's inability to get a confession on the record, it's also not difficult to hypothesize what happened to Buzzy by the end (just wait for the final camera zoom towards a key smoking gun). Most of the interviewees either assume or outright know who the culprit is while also admitting the truth will probably never be revealed. And that's okay. Locked away and/or destroyed by Disney or hidden in a collector's attic, the story holds the real value.

7/10

"The script’s machinations might conveniently draw lines connecting Niki’s professional, personal, and hidden lives together to push him into a corner to face his insecurities, but the emotion that results is authentic."

– Full thoughts at The Film Stage.