Hello everyone, and welcome back to the show. I’ve got a bit of an oddball collection for you today, driven by my housemate’s tendency to essentially throw darts at the dartboard of our various streaming services. As a result, I watched a couple films that were not on and would likely never approach my radar, along with the requisite pile of One Piece, and at least one genuine classic. I’ve also been watching some actual airing anime, and have so far been thoroughly impressed by ODDTAXI – I just recently wrote up the first episode, and will have another piece coming soon. I’ll be trying to fit in Dynazenon as well over the next few weeks, but for now, let’s run down the week in films and One Piece!

We started off this week’s films with a fun and breezy one, as we checked out Predator’s delightful sequel. Predator 2 replaces Arnie with a capable Danny Glover, an LA cop who doesn’t play by the rules but goddamnit, he gets results. Rather than simply attempting to replicate the structure and appeal of the first film, Predator 2 makes a bold and effective choice, replacing its predecessor’s “Vietnam film interrupted by a Predator attack” structure with an “‘80s crime drama interrupted by a Predator attack” one.

Though it actually came out in 1990, the world of Predator 2 is very much the “crime wave apocalypse” future predicted by films like Escape from New York or The Warriors, playing off the fears of a society where crime was rising with no clear cause or solution. These films all feel a little charmingly anachronistic at this point, almost quaint in their perspective on the ruin of society, but Predator 2 has more than just its amusing genre splash going for it. The film is brimming with fun action setpieces, takes itself precisely the right degree of seriously, and benefits tremendously from its strong supporting cast, containing stalwarts like Garey Busey and the ever-reliable Bill Paxton. Predator 2 is anything but a tossed-off sequel, and if you enjoyed the first one, you should probably check this one out. I mean, how can you say no to that tagline – “He’s In Town With A Few Days To Kill.” Brilliant.

After that, our viewing turned more serious, as we checked out the classic coming-of-age drama Stand by Me. Based on a Stephen King novella, Stand by Me follows four boys in the 1950s, as they go on an extended journey to see a dead body. Along the way, their histories are explored and friendships are tested, as we learn of the difficult circumstances that brought them together, and the incalculable importance of their mutual bond.

Stand By Me is an absolute triumph of a film, an essentially perfect exploration of the liminal line of childhood, as you begin to first recognize the far end of youth. Though its story is rich in the specificities of life at the end of the ‘50s, the camaraderie shared by young boys, and the fierceness with which they cling to friendship in the face of tragedy, feels absolutely timeless. The four lead performances are frankly absurd considering the age of the actors involved, and apparently the boys developed a genuine friendship over the filming process, which comes through clearly in their games and discussions. Their conversations possess the ambling trajectory and halting stop-starts of real-life conversations, and at all times, the fault lines underlying their bond and precariousness of their situation are made vividly, painfully clear. As both the characters’ and actors’ mutual understanding grows, the screen seems to disappear entirely, offering life and grief without ornamentation, in its rawest, truest form.

Whether as a snapshot of an era, an exploration of boyhood, or a meditation on grief, Stand by Me shines brightly however you assess it. A terrific film that embodies one of art’s highest callings: the articulation of simple human truth.

After that, we watched Stand and Deliver, because one of my housemates has a pretty funny idea of what a coherently themed double feature looks like. Based on a true story, Stand and Deliver centers on a math teacher played with ferocity by Edward James Olmos, who is determined to turn his class of underperforming inner city students into math superstars. Using unique training methods and more than a little tough love, he guides his class from arithmetic through calculus, fighting the inherent skepticism of the system at every step.

Stand and Deliver is an unabashedly feel-good picture, and structurally is basically a sports drama, with math subbing in as the sport in question. The film’s centerpiece is Olmos himself, who plays their teacher with a manic intensity that reminded me of Pacino in his wilder moments. The film’s scale and structure means it can’t really dig all that deeply into the substance of its students’ lives; they are more a collage of struggle, presenting a variety of reasons kids drop out of the system, and setting Olmos as the unflappable counter to all of these setbacks. The rapport Olmos develops with the kids is charming, and the film’s critiques are well-placed, but it all ultimately felt a little too easy and undersold to me – the kids fall in love with Olmos pretty much instantly, and all conflicts are resolved within a scene or two, through Olmos yelling until he gets his way. A fine watch, but not something that will stick with me.

After that, we cooled down with a low maintenance watch, Paranormal Activity 4. I haven’t actually watched the second or third Paranormal Activities, but I assume they’re all relatively self-contained, and it’s not like the first one was any good anyway. The original Paranormal Activity was a vast disappointment to me after being hyped up by the apparently scare-averse general public; it was literally just a couple objects going bump in the night, and a lot of staring at empty rooms. Paranormal Activity 4 follows the original’s model quite closely, offering one (1) good scare, and mostly demonstrating how easy it is to fill ninety minutes if your conceit means you don’t need camera setups or cinematography. The best found footage horror movies turn their format into a dramatic asset; in contrast, Paranormal Activity seems to use its format as an excuse for why it’s not scary, exciting, or aesthetically compelling.

And yes, there was One Piece. This week, our journey took us all the way through Impel Down, as Luffy raced to save his brother Ace. In terms of its dramatic structure, Impel Down is a bit more straightforward than most of Oda’s recent arcs – it mostly just involves Luffy fighting his way to the bottom of a vast prison, and then fighting his way back up again. But the way Oda builds tension and momentum across the entirety of the prison feels like a flex in its own right, while also offering a remarkably satisfying take on the old “former villains return as allies” routine.

The fundamental design of Impel Down seems inspired by both Dante’s Inferno and Escher’s famous prints, meaning simply exploring the prison itself is a delight much like visiting a new island. And though I missed the presence of the other Straw Hats, it’s clear enough that this arc simply didn’t have room for them. With the overall scale of One Piece’s world finally locking into place, Impel Down is forced to assume the difficult task of establishing an entire anti-world government guerilla force – something it accomplishes with astonishing grace, while still maintaining the show’s usual tonal balance. With Nami and Usopp out of the picture, Oda essentially slots Number Three and Buggy into their character roles, letting them hold down the requisite “oh my god what the fuck is happening how the hell do we get out of here” elements of the party.

Also, holy shit Ivan! In a creative field where gay panic stereotypes are still an infuriatingly common occurrence, I was thrilled to see One Piece celebrating an unabashed queer icon, and presenting his society as a clear force for good in the world. Bon Clay’s story of queer liberation certainly fits neatly into One Piece’s central themes: fighting for personal freedom, and celebrating the validity of your chosen family, are threads that reoccur all across One Piece. But given the story’s clumsiness in other areas (like its general female representation), I wasn’t exactly holding out hope that Oda would rise above social prejudice here. But he really went above and beyond, presenting Ivan and Bon as two of One Piece’s most compassionate characters, and gleefully celebrating the joy of being your true, uncompromised self. Representation in the biggest anime franchise around is no small thing; I have to imagine these chapters did some good for a lot of young, uncertain One Piece readers out there.