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My Life Is Murder (2019) s03e10 – Killer Fashion
Killer Fashion is a peculiar episode. It’s a peculiar season finale, but it’s also just weird. It’s more about its guest stars than a season finale ought to be, and then there’s the whole fashion angle. Lucy Lawless and Ebony Vagulans are both obsessed with the fashion world, though Lawless won’t admit it. Other than “My Life Is Murder” having delightful costumes (the pastels are presumably because New Zealand loves life because they’re New Zealand), fashion hasn’t been a character trait. All they needed to do was have a scene with Lawless and Vagulans watching a fashion show and eating sourdough, but no, it’s just this previously unexplored, shared trait.
And it’s often delightful. They’re investigating the unexplained death of a fashion model at world-famous designer Mark Mitchinson’s latest show. Lawless bonds with forty-something but still got it fashion model Simone Kessell, while Vagulans pals around with make-up artist Jodie Rimmer and model Bella Rakete. They’re on the case because Rakete is playing cop Rawiri Jobe’s sister, and he doesn’t want someone killing her too.
Martin Henderson shows up because it’s the season finale, and there’s some slight resolution to his season-long character arc. But then they actually put off integrating Henderson into the main ensemble, which again includes Tatum Warren-Ngata, who does nothing this episode but hang out at Joseph Naufahu’s coffee shop. The episode’s all about Lawless and Kessell hanging out—the dead model was Kessell’s direct competition—and Lawless oscillating between suspecting Kessell and just having a wild time with a famous person.
But there’s nothing for Lawless this episode other than showing the guest star a good time. There’s some season finale celebrating, but there’s no character development or even the hint at any. And the mystery’s complicated but straightforward; there are like four red herrings before they get to the end, with Lawless and Vagulans trading suspects like baseball cards.
If the episode spotlights anyone, it’s Kessell, which is incredibly generous, but—again—so odd. It’s like they’re walking the season finale, which is too bad, given the outstanding mysteries they’ve had elsewhere in the season.
Still, okay episode; pretty fun.
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Werewolf by Night (1972) #24
I’m losing my resolve for Werewolf by Night. I was mostly prepared for Don Perlin—there aren’t any good panels this issue, but there are some where inker Vince Colletta adds so many lines they compensate for whatever was there before. It works with the villain, a Jekyll and Hyde-type scientist who maybe can cure Jack’s monthly visitor. It’s only a few months until sister Lissa turns eighteen and gets the curse, too, presumably.
Lissa has been about to turn eighteen for a dozen issues; I think she was actually closer back around issue ten. Like it was imminent. But nothing’s guaranteed in Werewolf by Night except doing the same thing repeatedly, albeit with some whitewashing.
This issue opens with Jack’s landlady kicking him out. He’s wrecked the apartment three times in superhero fights, and the building owner has had enough. The way the owner’s mysterious makes me wonder if there will be a reveal. Curious enough to stick with the book? To see if Moon Knight owns Jack’s building? No.
But Jack then goes to live with Buck, who’s been up all night replacing the window Wolfman Jack jumped through last issue. Buck’s off the hook for killing the disfigured actor turned spree killer (with Jack whining in his monologue Buck killed him with the bullet meant to kill Wolfman Jack, but to save Jack’s life; no, he never hears himself). Jack lived with Buck in Werewolf by Night #1. Maybe even back in Marvel Spotlight. Three or four regular writers ago. And now we’re back, two dozen issues later.
The problem isn’t even writer Doug Moench doing old arcs on repeat; it’s Moench’s writing itself. He’s exceptionally verbose, which wasn’t terrible when he was doing Jack as pulpy narrator, but he’s just doing Jack as whiny bro. He’s not racist, which is an improvement over a while ago, but it’s a very low bar.
The series only goes another nineteen issues, plus or minus a Giant-Size, but nineteen bad comics is a lot of bad comics. Like, Moench’s worse at naming villains than Gerry Conway. He’s as bad as prequel trilogy George Lucas.
There’s just no point.
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Enola Holmes 2 (2022, Harry Bradbeer)
Enola Holmes 2 runs a long two hours and nine minutes, but the movie actually leaves a bunch on the table. For example, antagonist David Thewlis has history with both Sherlock (Henry Cavill) and Mama Holmes (Helena Bonham Carter), seemingly separately, but the film never gets into it. Thewlis is phoning it in, gloriously biting off scenery in giant chunks; he can do this part—and well—effortlessly, which is good because director Bradbeer’s not great with actors.
Everyone in Holmes 2 is solid, however. Millie Bobby Brown is a fine lead, except whenever Bradbeer doesn’t know what to do, he has her wink at the camera or break the fourth wall. It’s cute—but for the first and most of the second act, Brown could just be narrating the adventure straight. She opens the film narrating, and there’s always something; why not just go all the way?
Cavill’s effortlessly charming and more than willing to make room for his younger costars, to the point he’s just taking up space. He’s constantly around in this one like they wanted to make him work for the sequel bucks, but they don’t give him anything to do. The film reveals a bunch about Enola Holmes universe versions of Sherlock Holmes mainstays, but mostly just as gags or Easter eggs. It’s awkward world-building.
Louis Partridge is also back as Brown’s love interest, a young lord trying to fight the good fight against the blue blood stuffed shirts. Partridge never really gets anything to do in the movie. He takes a while to show up, then is sort of around, but also not. He’s perfectly good, and he and Brown get some fine teamwork moments, along with romantic ones, but he should’ve been in the movie more. Or less.
Just like Bonham Carter and Susan Wokoma. Wokoma shows up out of nowhere in the late second act like she wasn’t going to be in the movie, but then they needed a combination action and heist sequence, so suddenly Cavill brings her in. Except when she shows up next, it’s with Bonham Carter, and Cavill’s detached from that whole sequence. It’s like the supporting cast is tagging in and out. Got to keep them around, even if they won’t have anything to do until—presumably—Enola Holmes 3D.
The film kicks off with an affable but uninformative recap of the first film. Netflix is assuming you’re binging both pictures. Since the first movie, Brown has gone into business for herself but not seen Partridge, Cavill, or Bonham Carter much. She’s going it alone. And she’s going out of business, right up until adorable street urchin Serrana Su-Ling Bliss shows up at her door looking for her missing sister. Bliss and her friends are matchstick girls, and it certainly seems possible they’ve stumbled into the rich British people killing poor ones for profit.
Ah, capitalism.
It ends up being a semi-true story, which screenwriter Jack Thorne (with story co-credit to director Bradbeer) does an atrocious job integrating. Too many important things in Holmes seem shoe-horned in, with Bradbeer assuming Brown making a joke or Cavill grinning will cover. The film’s a case study in charm only getting you so far.
Decent, thankless supporting turn from Adele Akhtar as Enola Universe Lestrade, and an excellent bit performance from Sharon Duncan-Brewster as another unappreciated Victorian woman. Hopefully, they’ll bring Duncan-Brewster back too.
If Enola 2 had been twenty minutes shorter, it probably would be more successful. The mystery investigation goes on about ten minutes too long. But then it also needs another twenty minutes in the first act, probably. Thorne and Bradbeer don’t flop, but they need more substance for the cast. Not everyone can chaw sets like Thewlis.
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Catwoman (2002) #3
There’s a lot of great Darwyn Cooke “good girl” art in this issue as Selina goes undercover to find the john who’s been killing all the girls, which I suppose could kick off an interesting discussion of how male gaze works in a non-realistic styles like Cooke’s. But it doesn’t make for a great issue. There’s a terrific opening with Selina visiting Leslie Thompkins, but after a dream sequence for Leslie.
Like three pages. Beautiful art, with Cooke doing a Will Eisner Spirit nod. It has absolutely nothing to do with the comic itself. It’s just padding. Selina’s visiting Leslie to get Oracle’s digits; Batman doesn’t give Selina his white friends’ phone numbers. It’d be something if they wrote Batman—or even could imagine writing him—as more thoughtful than a sixteen-year-old rich kid.
Oracle comes through—off-page—and Selina and Holly go undercover to interrogate the used car dealer who sold the killer his car. Selina gets to wear the costume; Holly gets to walk the Cooke “good girl” runway. Again, great art. But not a particularly good mystery development. It’s a fun, mischievous scene but has to basically hold up the comic because afterward, it’s just a chase scene.
The bad guy gets past Selina, and to pass the level in the video game, she has to search three different warehouses before he kills again. Writer Ed Brubaker intercuts Selina’s mission with the killer and his date flirting and being sweet when really we know he’s going to disintegrate the girl.
The art’s neat, and some of the dialogue’s excellent; plus, Leslie and Selina are cool pals, but it’s like half an issue with clutter to make up the rest. It’s Darwyn Cooke art, so the issue’s definitely worthwhile; it’s just not a great installment in the arc. Brubaker doesn’t have much narration from Selina this issue either. The whole thing’s a little off.
But very pretty.