I got drunk and watched most of this over the course of a single evening, then the rest in bed hungover the next morning. It’ll explain why I spent a lot of it in tears moaning about how hard life is for poor Retsuko who never did nothing wrong.
Over the course of the running time I probably thought of a good half dozen quips that could come here. I’ve since forgotten them all.
We’ve all watched those Boston Dynamics videos haven’t we? When the robot uprising happens Imma go quisling so fast.
It’s easier sharing a body when the one you’re offering isn’t really yours. I’ve known this ever since I was a fourteen, pretending to be an adult woman to have cybersex on anonymous websites. Back when the internet was slow and those spaces still felt illicit folks were less picky about confirmation. I think they mostly liked being found desirable.
It’s unsurprising that the suicide which kicks off the first episode is the cleanest and most sanitised part of the whole affair. We are immediately plunged into a situation wherein we know, almost immediately, that just about everyone we’ll meet in the next hour will die — usually horrifically.
For better or worse, Marvel are never going to make a movie this big ever again.
I’m not sure why the relationship between a space fighter pilot and her craft exudes a strong sapphic energy but it totally does. I mean, maybe because Samira Wiley (who lends her face and voice to a mocapped performance) is openly queer. Or because my twitter feed the past month has been a constant stream of Carol Danvers fanart. Or because people give their vehicles female names and pronouns.