Hello everyone, and welcome to another Week in Review. This week I’ve got a pretty diverse stew of films and shows to cover, ranging from the persistently fascinating Deca-Dence to new releases, old classics, and whatever my housemate could find on Netflix. The big hit this week was Do the Right Thing, which I’ve known by reputation as one of the most insightful and just-plain-excellent films on race in America, and which I’m happy to report is fucking fantastic, obviously. It turns out the entire film criticism community was right about that one, who would have guessed. Anyway, I’ve rambled about things I’m about to ramble about again for long enough, so let’s get right down to the Week in Review!

After two weeks of setting up its multiple societies and infrastructures, and another week of building Natsume into fighting shape, it felt like this was the first episode where all of Deca-Dence’s parts were working in harmony. And dear lord, is this show ever impressive in motion.

On its classic “hero’s journey,” Natsume-focused level, Deca-Dence succeeds brilliantly even without its larger layers and thematic trappings. Natsume’s journey across this episode, from a position of excitement and ignorance, to ultimate acceptance of her own motives, was efficient, graceful, and poignant all at once. Her conversations with both Kaburagi and Kurenai helped naturally define the shape of her feelings, and the episode’s early battle scenes were terrific, as well. Deca-Dence regularly pulls off the kind of 3D motion you generally only associate with CG shows, with the camera pulling back into the frame as Natsume slides under a monster’s legs or spins past its shoulders. The ultimate effect neatly conveys the frantic pacing and disorientation of 3D movement; we’re not watching the cool attacks from far away (although the show is also good at that), we’re being dragged right there alongside her.

Of course, our knowledge of Deca-Dence’s actual nature adds a rich second layer onto the show’s drama, and essentially turns Natsume’s theoretically upbeat, aspirational journey into a fatigued reflection on the futility of individual action within an oppressive social structure. Everything about Deca-Dence’s two-layered structure serves as a tidy metaphor for our own capitalist prison, where the energy of the underclass is consistently directed away from the structures that actually bind them, and into either pointless factionalism or soma-like diversion.

Deca-Dence’s structure turns the usual tonal takeaways of a “hero’s journey” story like Eureka Seven or Gurren Lagann on its head; all of Natsume’s youthful passion is being aimed in a direction that won’t actually change anything, and will ultimately lead to either burnout or death. In the context of Deca-Dence, Natsume’s defiant cry of “I decide how to live my life!” is more tragic than inspirational; while heroes like Kurenai fight to retain their dignity and sense of self, they’re ultimately still being fed into a woodchipper to entertain the upper classes. Deca-Dence is currently succeeding brilliantly on two narrative levels that each enrich the other, while also offering one of the most visually imaginative and tightly constructed adventures of the last few years. I’m beyond excited to see how far this show will go.

Our first film feature this week was Double World, a Chinese production centered on a tournament to decide the next head general of a kingdom under siege. You might already be asking yourself “how does winning a martial arts tournament qualify you to lead a massive army,” but that’s actually one of the more believable elements of this production, whose plot is a transparent excuse for a bunch of neat challenges and fight scenes. Our heroes dance across chains while dangling over spike pits, steal eggs from dragons, and trade endless blows with their various opponents, making for a film with basically no emotional heft, but plenty of junk food thrills. If you’re looking for a film to put on while working and just tune into for the fight scenes, Double World is a fine pick.

We also screened Palm Springs, a new comedy on Netflix starring Andy Samberg and Cristin Milioti. Palm Springs’ premise is pretty simple – it’s a Groundhog Day scenario, where both Samberg and Milioti find themselves stuck in a time loop, repeating the day of Milioti’s sister’s wedding over and over again. Samberg is a strong comedic actor, and Milioti proved herself to be a fine counterpart, with the film doing a solid job of delighting in all the humor-ripe consequences of repeating one day over and over. Additionally, the film feels like a particularly relevant one at this cultural moment – not just because of COVID, but also the larger sense of fatigue, repetition, and powerlessness that seems to characterize our present era.

Samberg in particular is presented as someone who’s been completely defeated by the hopelessness of repetitive living, and has thus taken solace in the idea that nothing means anything, and we should simply try to party our way through each meaningless moment. Samberg presents a convincing portrait of someone who’s resigned themselves to defeat, and I was actually impressed with how petty and unlikable this film allowed him to be. Unfortunately, that strength also ended up informing the film’s greatest weakness – I didn’t feel like it effectively sold his rise from self-absorbed hopelessness to genuine emotional investment, and also didn’t feel like he really earned his reconciliation with Milioti. Palm Springs presents a sharp articulation of our modern, self-destructive malaise, but is only able to resolve it through some hand-waving love-conquers-all movie magic. I wish it had a more comforting answer for me, but I still appreciated it as a fun, inventive comedy.

I also finally watched a classic I’ve been meaning to see for a while, Spike Lee’s eternally relevant Do the Right Thing. For close to a decade now, I’ve been repeatedly told that Do the Right Thing remains the definitive statement on race relations in America, and watching it, I was duly surprised by just how current its every insight remains. Set on a single Brooklyn street block over the course of an impossibly hot summer day, Do the Right Thing presents a wide and rich cast of local characters, with their incidental meetings and brief skits frequently evoking the tone and structure of a stage play. 

Rather than being driven by a central narrative objective, Do the Right Thing frequently just luxuriates in this space, exploring the complexity of disparate cultures negotiating their presence in a place they all call home. The film is a shining example of exactly how art can teach in a way direct instruction never could; its cast feel fallible and human, while their engagements and moral questions illustrate the profound messiness of what it means to truly do the right thing. It deliberately defies easy moralization, and rises to a peak that demands the audience question the validity of peaceful dissent in the face of institutional oppression.

It’s also a really goddamn beautiful movie. With this being my first Spike Lee film, I was delighted to discover his eye for framing is as keen as his regularly lauded storytelling. Do the Right Thing’s credit sequence is basically a music video, and the film maintains that immediate, confrontational tone throughout, frequently presenting tense conversations through dutch angles and intimidating zoom lenses. In contrast, scenes on the street are elevated through masterful uses of geometric layouts and contrasting colors, like the standout contrast of three white-clothed old men against a painted brick wall. Beautiful, inventive, and intelligent as hell, Do the Right Thing is indeed an essential film.