I guess we can kiss another summer good-bye. Theoretically, El Nino should bring us a milder than usual winter and perhaps keep the Arctic Vortex at bay. Whatever. October was a slog. I did no travel, and pretty much nothing out of the ordinary. Just lived day-to-day, trying not to completely surrender to sloth.
Surprise, surprise: I did get some writing done. I sense I'm coming into the home stretch of Draft 1.0 -- I am nearing the end of the beginning. I justifiably remind myself that rewriting is immensely easier than writing. But neither get done when you're binging TV shows.
[Baseball] The Tigers of '68
[Rant] Sears and Fears
[TV] Fallen Defenders
Thursday, November 01, 2018
[Baseball] The Tigers of '68
Fifty years ago. Good lord, that's a long time. I had just turned 8. I didn't know nothin' 'bout baseball, but everyone was talking about it. My mom had to explain it to me (she was Red Sox fan). When I first played with the kids in the neighborhood, they positioned me at shortstop, a word I had never heard and thought was made up out of pity to give me, the smallest kid in the world, a place to play where I wouldn't cause problems.
Things were very different then. The old folks who always tell stories about how when they were kids they just went off alone all day, fending for themselves, parents not bothering to keep track of them. They (we) aren't lying. It really was like like that. Maybe around dusk your mom would start to wonder where you were and yell out the back door for you to come to dinner.
We played a lot of tag; wandered the woods across the street catching tadpoles and garter snakes. Occasionally we would get enough kids together for a sandlot game, but usually we played a game we just called "500". One kid would bat (by tossing the ball in the air himself and hitting it), the others would go out and field. A grounder was worth 10, and pop-up was worth 50, and liner or fly was worth a 100. Once one kid got to 500 he got to be the new batter.
Baseball was different too. There were no divisions, just a bunch of teams in the A.L. and N.L. They never played each other during the regular season (other than during the All-Star game) and after 162 games, the teams with the best record in each league played for the championship; no such thing as playoffs. The games all started at 1pm local time. Since the Tigers opponents, the St. Louis Cardinals, played in central time, the 2pm Eastern start time meant I could run home at top speed from school (a little over half a mile) and catch the end of the game on TV. Otherwise, you were stuck sneaking updates from the transistor radio you snuck into school with you.
The game itself was closer to sandlot games too. Nobody worked the pitch count, you grabbed a bat so you could hit. When a pitcher got the ball back they threw another pitch, they didn't dilly-dally. Pitch counts were unnecessary. It was like being on the sandlot, you didn't analyze everything for a statistical advantage, you just played. Runners stole bases and were thrown out. You moved runners along with sacrifice bunts and flys. It was all very instinctive. Don't think, it hurts the ballclub. The players smoked in the dugout.
I won't recount the details of the '68 Series, but it was epic, with astonishing performances and unlikely occurrences. The fact of the Tigers came back from a 3-1 deficit only heightened the experience, winning game 7 against the most frightening pitcher ever (Bob Gibson). It was like a living storybook to an eight-year-old.
I seem to be going down a path of wistful nostalgia, longing for the days of my youth, but I'm not. I would not want to go back to those times either in baseball or in life.
Being outside playing with the other kids was fine and all, but as often as not you found yourself maneuvering through a juvenile world that approached Lord of the Flies. Did it make us tough? Probably. Is it good that we needed to be made tough? Probably not. It may have been necessary, but it's not to be desired. As a small, overly-thoughtful, introverted kid, I can't imagine anything I wouldn't have traded back then for one day's worth of access to something like the Web.
Baseball is a vastly more interesting game now also, especially of late. It is slower, which is annoying, but the players are probably better overall and the strategies are much more varied and intricate (and, yes, statistically oriented). Longtime readers know I was on the sabermetrics train at an early stop. ESPN recently did a test telecast of an Amazon-supported project called Statcast. Instead of inane babbling about who "really wants a hit" and who is "not looking comfortable on the mound" we got primed with deep stats and graphic predictions and intelligent rational analysis in general. It was wonderful. And it was very well received. If MLB provided a cable package of games like that, I would pay for it. There are problems implementing it I'm sure since the skill set of announcers has got to be something more than "just keep the cliches coming" but I think that's a solvable problem. It bodes well for the future.
I watched little of this year's World Series since it was between two teams I don't like: the Dodgers from that execrable city Los Angeles and the pink-hatted Massholes of Boston. The highlight was game 3, a 7-hour 20-minute 18-inning affair that was the longest, and possibly most excruciating, game in Series history. Evidently instead of having to rush home from school to catch end of games, we now pull all-nighters.
Once again, I have droned on in a post without have a clear objective other than to note that since the '68 Tigers were my first exposure to baseball, have officially been a baseball fan for 50 years now. (Of course, it's also been decades since I swung a bat or wore a glove.) Baseball is where I first saw the battle of the objective versus the subjective and realized I am constitutionally predisposed toward the former, an aspect of my personality that has influenced me throughout my life, for better and worse. Although I only follow on the periphery these days, it still brings an image of verdant beauty. The last game I attended was a Tigers spring training game in Joker Marchant stadium in Lakeland, where there is a large green lawn where the left field bleachers would be most places. Sitting in the grass, casually watching the game in the perfect Florida spring weather was true detachment for me; one of those moments that sets itself deeply in your long-term memory.
On the other hand the best pitcher in the A.L. -- Justin Verlander -- and the best pitcher in the N.L.-- Max Scherzer -- both used to play for Detroit. Somehow, the Tigers managed to lose both of them in the course of their careers. Not unrelated, this year the Tigers barely avoided being 100 game losers. Baseball giveth and baseball taketh away. I should see if I can find an Al Kaline throwback jersey.
Things were very different then. The old folks who always tell stories about how when they were kids they just went off alone all day, fending for themselves, parents not bothering to keep track of them. They (we) aren't lying. It really was like like that. Maybe around dusk your mom would start to wonder where you were and yell out the back door for you to come to dinner.
We played a lot of tag; wandered the woods across the street catching tadpoles and garter snakes. Occasionally we would get enough kids together for a sandlot game, but usually we played a game we just called "500". One kid would bat (by tossing the ball in the air himself and hitting it), the others would go out and field. A grounder was worth 10, and pop-up was worth 50, and liner or fly was worth a 100. Once one kid got to 500 he got to be the new batter.
Baseball was different too. There were no divisions, just a bunch of teams in the A.L. and N.L. They never played each other during the regular season (other than during the All-Star game) and after 162 games, the teams with the best record in each league played for the championship; no such thing as playoffs. The games all started at 1pm local time. Since the Tigers opponents, the St. Louis Cardinals, played in central time, the 2pm Eastern start time meant I could run home at top speed from school (a little over half a mile) and catch the end of the game on TV. Otherwise, you were stuck sneaking updates from the transistor radio you snuck into school with you.
The game itself was closer to sandlot games too. Nobody worked the pitch count, you grabbed a bat so you could hit. When a pitcher got the ball back they threw another pitch, they didn't dilly-dally. Pitch counts were unnecessary. It was like being on the sandlot, you didn't analyze everything for a statistical advantage, you just played. Runners stole bases and were thrown out. You moved runners along with sacrifice bunts and flys. It was all very instinctive. Don't think, it hurts the ballclub. The players smoked in the dugout.
I won't recount the details of the '68 Series, but it was epic, with astonishing performances and unlikely occurrences. The fact of the Tigers came back from a 3-1 deficit only heightened the experience, winning game 7 against the most frightening pitcher ever (Bob Gibson). It was like a living storybook to an eight-year-old.
I seem to be going down a path of wistful nostalgia, longing for the days of my youth, but I'm not. I would not want to go back to those times either in baseball or in life.
Being outside playing with the other kids was fine and all, but as often as not you found yourself maneuvering through a juvenile world that approached Lord of the Flies. Did it make us tough? Probably. Is it good that we needed to be made tough? Probably not. It may have been necessary, but it's not to be desired. As a small, overly-thoughtful, introverted kid, I can't imagine anything I wouldn't have traded back then for one day's worth of access to something like the Web.
Baseball is a vastly more interesting game now also, especially of late. It is slower, which is annoying, but the players are probably better overall and the strategies are much more varied and intricate (and, yes, statistically oriented). Longtime readers know I was on the sabermetrics train at an early stop. ESPN recently did a test telecast of an Amazon-supported project called Statcast. Instead of inane babbling about who "really wants a hit" and who is "not looking comfortable on the mound" we got primed with deep stats and graphic predictions and intelligent rational analysis in general. It was wonderful. And it was very well received. If MLB provided a cable package of games like that, I would pay for it. There are problems implementing it I'm sure since the skill set of announcers has got to be something more than "just keep the cliches coming" but I think that's a solvable problem. It bodes well for the future.
I watched little of this year's World Series since it was between two teams I don't like: the Dodgers from that execrable city Los Angeles and the pink-hatted Massholes of Boston. The highlight was game 3, a 7-hour 20-minute 18-inning affair that was the longest, and possibly most excruciating, game in Series history. Evidently instead of having to rush home from school to catch end of games, we now pull all-nighters.
Once again, I have droned on in a post without have a clear objective other than to note that since the '68 Tigers were my first exposure to baseball, have officially been a baseball fan for 50 years now. (Of course, it's also been decades since I swung a bat or wore a glove.) Baseball is where I first saw the battle of the objective versus the subjective and realized I am constitutionally predisposed toward the former, an aspect of my personality that has influenced me throughout my life, for better and worse. Although I only follow on the periphery these days, it still brings an image of verdant beauty. The last game I attended was a Tigers spring training game in Joker Marchant stadium in Lakeland, where there is a large green lawn where the left field bleachers would be most places. Sitting in the grass, casually watching the game in the perfect Florida spring weather was true detachment for me; one of those moments that sets itself deeply in your long-term memory.
On the other hand the best pitcher in the A.L. -- Justin Verlander -- and the best pitcher in the N.L.-- Max Scherzer -- both used to play for Detroit. Somehow, the Tigers managed to lose both of them in the course of their careers. Not unrelated, this year the Tigers barely avoided being 100 game losers. Baseball giveth and baseball taketh away. I should see if I can find an Al Kaline throwback jersey.
[Rant] Sears and Fears
There was much hand-wringing over Sears bankruptcy, but no surprise. Sears became a giant in the first half of the previous century by shipping goods directly to consumers and was subsequently put out of business by a company that became a giant by shipping goods directly to consumers.
(Note: there are a lot of references to the "end of Sears." Bankruptcy is not the end -- the name "Sears" may live on in some way but how much continuity there will be is questionable.)
My nostalgia for Sears extends to the big, thick catalogs they would send out and that I would peruse intently for items to put on my Christmas wish list when I was a wee lad. In reaction to the bankruptcy, the web filled up with images from those old catalogs. In the early days of the 1900s you could order a house or even a school from the catalog; build it yourself. Anything from underwear to motorcycles -- it truly was the Amazon of its time.
As much as anything else, the history of retail reflects the history of wealth and our reaction to it. For the longest time, all goods were difficult to get. At best, you could avail yourself of whatever the local settlement could produce and beyond that you had to be self-sufficient. In a few metropolises you had access to some stuff, but in a mostly rural world, you lived with what ever was nearby or available at a farmers market. That meant cutting your own lumber, sewing your own clothes, and slaughtering your own hogs.
With the industrial revolution things got easier. Stuff got cheaper and people got more wealthy and, thanks to Sears, instead of cutting down trees to build a log cabin, you could just order a disassembled house. Or instead of stitching together a Sunday-go-to-meeting dress, you could just pick one out of the catalog. You had to trust that little black and white drawing in the catalog and then had to wait for next month's train to deliver it, but it was still more convenient that doing everything yourself.
As wealth continued to grow, the stores came to you and buying stuff became even easier. Retail outlets spread, first mom-and-pop stores, then Woolworths and such. Even in small towns within reach of the rural communities it was possible go to the store, see what you wanted, and buy it on the spot.
This got ramped up in the last half of 20th century when we became a land of malls. These huge markets with a variety of goods once only available to the richest folks in the richest cities appeared far and wide. Shopping became so easy that it went from being a necessity to a beloved pastime. Folks hitting the mall not only got what they needed, they also found out that there was so much more that they needed than they realized.
Still, the business of driving to the mall, fighting crowds, finding parking, was just too exhausting. Relief arrived in the form of Amazon, which freed you from the trouble of leaving your home to get stuff. Is there something you want? Just press a button and it will appear on your doorstep in a couple of days. Even now they are working on doing away with the button press. They'll use your profile to ship you what they think you want. If you really don't want it you can send it back.
Thanks to Artificial Intelligence, this will get more and more accurate over time to the point where it will be rare that you don't already have anything you want. Not only will you no longer have to butcher your own hogs, you won't even have to realize you need bacon, your fridge will have already had it delivered.
Convenience is approaching its optimum. The entire history of retail has been to make it easier to buy stuff -- to reduce friction in the parlance of the industry. This leaves you more free time to play with your dog (yay!) and post rants on Twitter (boo!). If there is a law of success in the information age it's that Convenience Trumps All.
I engaged in a bit of hyperbole there, but you see where I'm going. Somewhere along the line Sears lost the thread. Like all the major department stores, they decided it was all about marketing -- brand positioning, product mix, promotion, and fractions of a cent in quarterly earnings, while Amazon was busy reinventing the catalog. Someone moved the cheese and Jeff Bezos found it.
Now, there is no avoiding Amazon. If you'd rather not deal with them you have to go back to the pre-Sears days -- go off the grid. I'm sure youtube has instructional videos on hog butchering.
(Note: there are a lot of references to the "end of Sears." Bankruptcy is not the end -- the name "Sears" may live on in some way but how much continuity there will be is questionable.)
My nostalgia for Sears extends to the big, thick catalogs they would send out and that I would peruse intently for items to put on my Christmas wish list when I was a wee lad. In reaction to the bankruptcy, the web filled up with images from those old catalogs. In the early days of the 1900s you could order a house or even a school from the catalog; build it yourself. Anything from underwear to motorcycles -- it truly was the Amazon of its time.
As much as anything else, the history of retail reflects the history of wealth and our reaction to it. For the longest time, all goods were difficult to get. At best, you could avail yourself of whatever the local settlement could produce and beyond that you had to be self-sufficient. In a few metropolises you had access to some stuff, but in a mostly rural world, you lived with what ever was nearby or available at a farmers market. That meant cutting your own lumber, sewing your own clothes, and slaughtering your own hogs.
With the industrial revolution things got easier. Stuff got cheaper and people got more wealthy and, thanks to Sears, instead of cutting down trees to build a log cabin, you could just order a disassembled house. Or instead of stitching together a Sunday-go-to-meeting dress, you could just pick one out of the catalog. You had to trust that little black and white drawing in the catalog and then had to wait for next month's train to deliver it, but it was still more convenient that doing everything yourself.
As wealth continued to grow, the stores came to you and buying stuff became even easier. Retail outlets spread, first mom-and-pop stores, then Woolworths and such. Even in small towns within reach of the rural communities it was possible go to the store, see what you wanted, and buy it on the spot.
This got ramped up in the last half of 20th century when we became a land of malls. These huge markets with a variety of goods once only available to the richest folks in the richest cities appeared far and wide. Shopping became so easy that it went from being a necessity to a beloved pastime. Folks hitting the mall not only got what they needed, they also found out that there was so much more that they needed than they realized.
Still, the business of driving to the mall, fighting crowds, finding parking, was just too exhausting. Relief arrived in the form of Amazon, which freed you from the trouble of leaving your home to get stuff. Is there something you want? Just press a button and it will appear on your doorstep in a couple of days. Even now they are working on doing away with the button press. They'll use your profile to ship you what they think you want. If you really don't want it you can send it back.
Thanks to Artificial Intelligence, this will get more and more accurate over time to the point where it will be rare that you don't already have anything you want. Not only will you no longer have to butcher your own hogs, you won't even have to realize you need bacon, your fridge will have already had it delivered.
Convenience is approaching its optimum. The entire history of retail has been to make it easier to buy stuff -- to reduce friction in the parlance of the industry. This leaves you more free time to play with your dog (yay!) and post rants on Twitter (boo!). If there is a law of success in the information age it's that Convenience Trumps All.
I engaged in a bit of hyperbole there, but you see where I'm going. Somewhere along the line Sears lost the thread. Like all the major department stores, they decided it was all about marketing -- brand positioning, product mix, promotion, and fractions of a cent in quarterly earnings, while Amazon was busy reinventing the catalog. Someone moved the cheese and Jeff Bezos found it.
Now, there is no avoiding Amazon. If you'd rather not deal with them you have to go back to the pre-Sears days -- go off the grid. I'm sure youtube has instructional videos on hog butchering.
[TV] Fallen Defenders
Marvel's Netflix franchises are dropping like flies. First Iron Fist was cancelled after two seasons. Next to go was Luke Cage. It pains me to say it makes sense. Iron Fist really had no redeeming qualities. Luke cage at least had the soundtrack going for it. I managed to watch both shows because, a) my half-century-plus of watching TV has made me adept at fast forwarding through superfluous expository dialogue, and b) I still have the soul of an 11-year-old boy buying these comic books off the spinning rack at the drugstore for 15 cents. But from a dramatic standpoint there was nothing worth saving.
Like the beleaguered denizens of Hell's Kitchen, our last hope lies with Daredevil whose third season dropped this month. (I should note I have not watched Jessica Jones so I could be missing something, but I doubt it). And the hope is realistic. With a new showrunner Daredevil has taken a step up.
To repeat like a broken record, THERE IS STILL TOO MUCH TALKING. It's not as bad as it used to be, but it became clear that the problem has not been solved right off the bat when episode one was about forty minutes of exposition followed by a fairly pedestrian street fight. Everyone who wants to create an action drama should be required to watch the first ten minutes of Avengers: Age of Ultron, followed by the first ten minutes of Avengers: Infinity War. If after seeing those, you are content with a script that starts with twenty pages of dialogue, please tender your resignation. Using my personal superpower of exposition-spotting I was able to fast-forward through at least half of all the early episodes and not miss a beat. That might have dropped to 25 percent by the later episodes.
I should also add, that despite the slow start, by the end of the season I was fully sucked in and invested in the characters, even the ones that were so previously annoying. The dialogue, though too wordy, was at least not at the level of the infantile exchanges in the previous seasons. But the acting and casting of the roles was excellent and many of the actors showed something really special. I do think it was the actors themselves that sold me on this.
Daredevil benefits from themes of guilt and revenge that, despite the uneven presentation, are actually coherent. Matt Murdock, for all his hand-wringing holiness, doesn't hesitate to endanger his friends in pursuit of the villian. He frets over his sins, as he should, but that doesn't seem to stop him. There is a cost to heroics and the hero gets is wrong sometimes and the hero can be a jerk -- it makes things more interesting.
The now legendary villain, Wilson Fisk, is once again brought to life by the mighty Vincent D'onofrio. If think you don't know D'onofrio, you probably actually do. An actor of remarkable range -- Private Pyle in Full Metal Jacket, the military dude in Jurassic World, he's also a lead in one of those excruiting Law and Order series so he's skilled in handling inane dialogue -- he just nails the menace and malice of Fisk, even in the quietest scenes. (Non sequitur: he once held a job as Robert Plant's bodyguard.)
Stepping up acting-wise is Debra Ann Woll. She has to spend the bulk of the series on the edge of a breakdown from her guilt over killing someone in season one, her being in danger from Fisk because of her association with Daredevil, and her anger/concern for Matt Murdock and all his double-edged actions. There is a scene where she tries to contact her family for support but her father only offers superficial excuses but not a drop more; Woll just kills this scene, then gets what is essentially an origin episode, which is Emmy-worthy.
Daredevil's signature moment came in the hallway fight scene from season 1. Arguably, the expansion of the whole netflix Marvel universe was kickstarted from that moment. Well the fight scene in episode 4 of season 3 makes that one look quaint. An extended tracking shot during a prison break, Murdock has to fight his way through a squad of hit men only to be confronted by their crime boss and has to negotiate to get an escort through the remainder of the riot to the outside. It is technically astonishing, not just the length of the tracking shot, but the constant physical activities of the actors. It's one thing the track Henry and Karen Hill walking through the back of the house of the Copa, it's another to have your actors choreographing flips and flying kicks through multiple minutes, hitting marks and timing in concert with the camera. I'll look forward to reading the analysis of how it was done. Like I said, a technical marvel and a tribute to the cinematographic and choreographic skills of everyone involved. Still, it was not emotionally affecting as say the final battle against Thanos on Titan. (Will this guy not shut up about The Avengers?)
So overall a big step up for Daredevil. They have now reached the level of quality that could keep a standard broadcast TV show going indefinitely. No word on how Netflix feels about that yet. If the trend continues, future seasons could be something special.
One wonders where Netflix is going to go with the Marvel series (if anywhere). They won't get the rights to any more characters from Disney, who will want to keep them for their own streaming service, so unless Iron Fist and Luke Cage are actual money losers, you would think they'd rework them somehow (Heroes for Hire?).
Marvel TV series from non-Netflix outlets have been better. Agents of Shield has pretty much spent six years at the quality level Daredevil just touched. Legion is a confusing but highly creative experience. The late, lamented Agent Carter has so far been the only Marvel series that was actually excellent. My guess is Disney will get in the game directly next. TV fits better with more intimate stories so that would seem to eliminate things like the now in limbo Fantastic Four or X-men variations. Spiderman might work but why on Earth would you do anything to risk that glorious franchise?
I have no idea where all this is going, but wherever it goes, THERE NEEDS TO BE LESS TALKING. My fast-forward thumb keeps going into spasm.
Like the beleaguered denizens of Hell's Kitchen, our last hope lies with Daredevil whose third season dropped this month. (I should note I have not watched Jessica Jones so I could be missing something, but I doubt it). And the hope is realistic. With a new showrunner Daredevil has taken a step up.
To repeat like a broken record, THERE IS STILL TOO MUCH TALKING. It's not as bad as it used to be, but it became clear that the problem has not been solved right off the bat when episode one was about forty minutes of exposition followed by a fairly pedestrian street fight. Everyone who wants to create an action drama should be required to watch the first ten minutes of Avengers: Age of Ultron, followed by the first ten minutes of Avengers: Infinity War. If after seeing those, you are content with a script that starts with twenty pages of dialogue, please tender your resignation. Using my personal superpower of exposition-spotting I was able to fast-forward through at least half of all the early episodes and not miss a beat. That might have dropped to 25 percent by the later episodes.
I should also add, that despite the slow start, by the end of the season I was fully sucked in and invested in the characters, even the ones that were so previously annoying. The dialogue, though too wordy, was at least not at the level of the infantile exchanges in the previous seasons. But the acting and casting of the roles was excellent and many of the actors showed something really special. I do think it was the actors themselves that sold me on this.
Daredevil benefits from themes of guilt and revenge that, despite the uneven presentation, are actually coherent. Matt Murdock, for all his hand-wringing holiness, doesn't hesitate to endanger his friends in pursuit of the villian. He frets over his sins, as he should, but that doesn't seem to stop him. There is a cost to heroics and the hero gets is wrong sometimes and the hero can be a jerk -- it makes things more interesting.
The now legendary villain, Wilson Fisk, is once again brought to life by the mighty Vincent D'onofrio. If think you don't know D'onofrio, you probably actually do. An actor of remarkable range -- Private Pyle in Full Metal Jacket, the military dude in Jurassic World, he's also a lead in one of those excruiting Law and Order series so he's skilled in handling inane dialogue -- he just nails the menace and malice of Fisk, even in the quietest scenes. (Non sequitur: he once held a job as Robert Plant's bodyguard.)
Stepping up acting-wise is Debra Ann Woll. She has to spend the bulk of the series on the edge of a breakdown from her guilt over killing someone in season one, her being in danger from Fisk because of her association with Daredevil, and her anger/concern for Matt Murdock and all his double-edged actions. There is a scene where she tries to contact her family for support but her father only offers superficial excuses but not a drop more; Woll just kills this scene, then gets what is essentially an origin episode, which is Emmy-worthy.
Daredevil's signature moment came in the hallway fight scene from season 1. Arguably, the expansion of the whole netflix Marvel universe was kickstarted from that moment. Well the fight scene in episode 4 of season 3 makes that one look quaint. An extended tracking shot during a prison break, Murdock has to fight his way through a squad of hit men only to be confronted by their crime boss and has to negotiate to get an escort through the remainder of the riot to the outside. It is technically astonishing, not just the length of the tracking shot, but the constant physical activities of the actors. It's one thing the track Henry and Karen Hill walking through the back of the house of the Copa, it's another to have your actors choreographing flips and flying kicks through multiple minutes, hitting marks and timing in concert with the camera. I'll look forward to reading the analysis of how it was done. Like I said, a technical marvel and a tribute to the cinematographic and choreographic skills of everyone involved. Still, it was not emotionally affecting as say the final battle against Thanos on Titan. (Will this guy not shut up about The Avengers?)
So overall a big step up for Daredevil. They have now reached the level of quality that could keep a standard broadcast TV show going indefinitely. No word on how Netflix feels about that yet. If the trend continues, future seasons could be something special.
One wonders where Netflix is going to go with the Marvel series (if anywhere). They won't get the rights to any more characters from Disney, who will want to keep them for their own streaming service, so unless Iron Fist and Luke Cage are actual money losers, you would think they'd rework them somehow (Heroes for Hire?).
Marvel TV series from non-Netflix outlets have been better. Agents of Shield has pretty much spent six years at the quality level Daredevil just touched. Legion is a confusing but highly creative experience. The late, lamented Agent Carter has so far been the only Marvel series that was actually excellent. My guess is Disney will get in the game directly next. TV fits better with more intimate stories so that would seem to eliminate things like the now in limbo Fantastic Four or X-men variations. Spiderman might work but why on Earth would you do anything to risk that glorious franchise?
I have no idea where all this is going, but wherever it goes, THERE NEEDS TO BE LESS TALKING. My fast-forward thumb keeps going into spasm.
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