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A belated tribute to this most versatile actor, who frightened me with a revisit so long ago and like Laura Palmer, I would see again long after I settled down and stopped rooting for the protagonist of A Clockwork Orange.

The timing of Toho’s first new feature following シン (and their monsters-only shorts), the Apple series and another Legendary sequel next April would’ve spoiled 8-year-old me who’d go on to starve between Star Wars installments.

The “just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in” line actually comes from the third and mostly awful Godfather movie, which I still also look back at for its portrayal of the way I least want to die, but that fucker who I had been watching for the past few weeks pushed me over the edge by letting Lae’zel die while simping Shadowheart as his “RP” love interest. So much for my console abstinence—which was hardly a show of principle if I’m to be honest, and more stubbornness to remount the gear treadmill, both in-game and out.

Chris hadn’t recognized the cartoon Easter Egg in the recent D&D movie, so we reviewed those scenes in the “maze” on his Apple TV’s Paramount+ subscription before I turned a nap into the rest of the night, which must have contributed to this sci-fi/horror premise where three of us, one group of many, found ourselves in a modern building not unlike Dongdaemun Design Plaza whose long hallways were lined with unmarked rooms containing dangerous surprises, and it was our mission to find an exit before succumbing to them. My party-mates were Ron C., I think, and a pole-less adult version of Diana the Acrobat in the yellow jumpsuit we contestants were all assigned. Our first obstacle to the next floor were large halls patrolled by car-sized cats, which we could see through a window pouncing on others as they attempted to pass. Two old ladies seated outside recommended we try the dogs instead and not to show any fear when they approached. Sure enough, a harnessed Golden Retriever with legs my height came at us like a train but stopped only to sniff as we slowly made our way to a door at the other end.

We somehow reached safety on a level above, but curiosity about the workings of the facility led me quite foolishly back downstairs to sneak a look-don’t-tell at the maintenance crew cleaning up the mangled bodies from different rooms. I thought I was a safe distance from them but was too far from the stairwell and the open corridor offered no hiding place when an official spotted me. My uniform was a dead giveaway so I leaned against the door beside me and pretended to have been ordered to wait there. The explanation seemed to trigger one in her mind, as she went on about how the “Destroyers” needed to recharge and left with her entourage satisfied. These people were in the business of mass extermination, and before the coast was clear for me to leave my post, a snobbish general-type emerged from an office to my left complaining about debris in the form of a severed arm, opened my door and tossed it inside before returning.

Scuttlebutt is that Apple TV+’s “Monsterverse” series is being filmed in their new Vision Pro-compatible format, which got me imagining, aside from the possibilities like experiencing scale within the peripheral, about how they might (not) expand the franchise with characters other than the two main attractions from their last outing. Why not a more humanoid giant, maybe with a different origin since we’ve already dispensed with Mechagodzilla, even an extraterrestrial one like the 特撮 heroes they were originally trying to emulate?

Reason I dug Jet Jaguar as a kid was that grin of his resembled the one on Marvel’s short-lived Scarecrow in another artifact from my past, who would leap out of existence and bother impressionable minds without today’s resources.

Update: Fuck, this is a rehash of a 20-year-old entry (plus more future-proof links). AI writing assistants can’t come soon enough, and not the striking kind.

I’m still reeling from the events of last weekend, but carry on as I always have with the imaginary solace that American safety net GoFundMe is amassing for William Cho a Bruce Wayne-sized estate to make something of a legacy. It was actually the night before that I sat for this recent release, was mildly entertained by its refreshingly tongue-in-cheek approach to the genre, only to spot right away what has understandably got to be my favorite cameo ever, despite it being no strange a feature in all these nostalgic sequels and remakes.

I forgot, I really did like seeing some of the 60’s cast members in the one-off Lost in Space movie—starring Gary Oldham? (And Heather Graham, who is always welcome to segue into my subconscious.) The show came up, right on cue, when I was reminded of Dr. Smith’s “oh, the pain” catchphrase upon turning over another year and expecting little else to convince me not to make it my own. Learning that Jonathan Harris was 54 during his act (and milked it for 3 decades) doesn’t help.

I preferred how the characters in the original served their purpose and didn’t reappear, much less intermingle as archetypes, but despite these and other changes, how can I disparage Ishiguro’s reliable eloquence:

I wonder, Mr. Wakeling, if I may now turn to matters you may consider more personal. I have no wish to belittle our playground, but I put it to you that it was, all the same, a small thing. And that it will, before long, go the way of most small things. It may fall into disrepair, or be superseded by some grander scheme. To speak plainly, we cannot assume to have erected a lasting monument. Should there come days when it becomes no longer clear to you to what end you are directing your daily efforts, when the sheer grind of it all threatens to reduce you to the kind of state in which I so long existed, I urge you then to recall our little playground and the modest satisfaction that became our due upon its completion.

I liked both シン movies so far, and I’m looking forward to the 仮面ライダー one, even if it’s the franchise I remember the least. Speaking of the big man, I dreamed I was one of the M78 heroes last night—I tried to pick Ultraseven as my alter-ego, but he was taken—and we had to fight off a horde of alien bugs.

My next one was more grounded, the wife and I were walking with an Indian woman and her child through a field, who were lured away by a game of frisbee. The grass was damp (like our yard after all the rain), I could distinctly feel it under my bare feet, but I didn’t mind because my shoes or socks wouldn’t get wet.

There was a suspicious car traveling up the street, I think maybe because the driver wasn’t immediately visible, so somehow I was able to hop in the back and confront the occupants. “This isn’t possible,” I accused, “You must be from the future!” The two or three men admitted as much, as our vehicle converted to a boat and took off on the open seas. (I was reminded of The Last Starfighter, which we watched the other night. It wasn’t really that good, was it, apart from the premise, which I’d rather have seen again on a 12-minute episode of Regular Show.) We entered a purple gash in the air, and the sky went from sunny to dark as we docked. They warned me that in their time, non-Whites were gone, purged, didn’t press for an explanation, and that I’d stick out. The city was a bland shade of brown and eerily empty of inhabitants, like an early videogame. The boy, still a four-footer, tried befriending one of the local Village of the Damned children but heeding our host’s advice, I told him to let go of her hand.

Thought-provoking foray into race relations aside, another of my familiar themes in dreams is the long journey on foot alone, often across unimaginable distances and non-navigable terrain, which may or may not be a corollary of transportation woes, though fortunately I spare myself the actual experience and only reflect upon it before or afterward. This morning I traced my trip from somewhere in northern New England to upstate New York by way of Canada and the “Madison” River, probably mistaken for the Hudson. Is there some challenge I’m bracing for, and am I burdening myself unnecessarily by taking the more difficult approach, like how I prefer to use a manual screwdriver instead of the cordless drill?

Jeff Lynne’s music sounds all the same, doesn’t it? Not that I’m complaining.