The Midnight Sky: Disappointment Immeasurable, Day Ruined.

Spoilers, because this is nonsense.

At the finale of The Midnight Sky, with the actors tapping at generic instrument panels like extras on an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation the credits begin to roll and the action continues, much like the ending of Michael Clayton, a far, far superior film and I made a sound like a camel giving birth or dying. Or both, I don’t know but my groan and attempt to say Oh my God, at the same time, my attempt to express my intense irritation and discomfort with everything that it tries and fails to be all came out at once and my dog, who is just as depressed as I am these days, rolled his head over at me in concern.

Since that moment the only real thought in my head regarding The Midnight Sky is whether or not I hated it more that Ad Astra, a film so self-indulgent and unoriginal that I made two attempts to write a scathing review of the thing before it was too late. All memory of the experience had evaporated like a dream in the morning, nothing remained but an impression and a vague sense of having been robbed of time. I almost made a decision when I decided that Sky at least has a positive message but I realized it does not, there is no message at all about climate change or environmental matters, it’s as if The Road were set in the Arctic and all the horrifying examinations of humanity, absent decency or hope, were removed. What remains is just a real bummer, man, and that’s saying something when comparing it to THE ROAD.

Not only is there no real purpose or enjoyment to be had here it contains one of the two cringiest moments I’ve experienced this weekend, two moments that vaulted into the top five cringiest things I’ve seen all year, yes, this year. The first was Diana Prince suddenly realizing she has the power to make things invisible with some hand wiggling, including an entire jet all of a sudden, never mind that radar doesn’t work by actually seeing the object it’s detecting but whatever. That was dumb but brief and then neat because fireworks! That moment was usurped here in The Midnight Sky when an ensemble cast of actors, in space, play and sing along to Neil Diamond’s Sweet Caroline, a song that I don’t hate because it seems to make (white) people so very happy, however I never ever want to hear it again in my life if it can be helped. This scene had me rooting for the meteor shower, is what I’m saying.

I had to double check the Wikipedia article to confirm that this film identifies as “science fiction” to which I respond, How dare you. I’m not usually a plot holes guy, I find it to be low hanging fruit and mostly ammunition for the kill-joy crowd, all films have logical inconsistencies somewhere to greater or lesser degrees and I like getting lost in the movie. I want to believe, I want that suspension of disbelief so I generally turn a blind eye but yikes, Clooney. It’s the present day and we can tell there are potentially habitable worlds in other star systems so the idea that there is a paradise moon orbiting Jupiter that just popped into discovery in the modern era is kind of ludicrous, bro. Humanity has been staring at our celestial neighbors for a few hundred years and while there is still much to discover and a lot of potential in places like Europa, there are not oxygen rich, forested utopias a couple months away by giant space ship. Also, why is there lattice work decorating this admittedly impressive interplanetary spacecraft? Even forty years in the future it’s still going to be about practicality and utility, and in the era of television that features The Expanse at the forefront of what space travel is going to be all about if we survive this era of self-destructive adolescence, why are you decorating with an ensemble cast and big budget special effects.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, the Netflix model has one endemic flaw in it’s desperation for new content and accommodation of A-List talent and that’s a lack of oversight. One of my favorite Twitter threads is Network Notes, a series of bizarre directions and requests from studio heads that range from completely tone-deaf to utterly insane contradictions but for every thousand or so of these there are probably some reasonable assertions and suggestions to rein in creative types or creative attempts that are destined to fail. The Midnight Sky needed someone to say something about the abysmal pacing, the relentless cliche, and the absence of entertainment value in watching George Clooney do nothing of value. It’s not as if the Aether (which is the name of the spaceship, insert camel dying sound) needed to be warned of the condition of a dying Earth because he fails to warn them and they just see it for themselves, anyway, and he has no information as to the who/what/why.

There are voices that argue it’s a father protecting his daughter but, if you get to the conclusion, that is utterly irrelevant. Maybe it’s about the resiliency of the human spirit in the sense that two characters decide to abandon Earth and return to Dream Moon but, and I’m not a geneticist or a scientist but I did stay at Holiday Inn Express one time, two human beings can’t repopulate the entire race. That Coach Taylor and Hispanic stereotype decide to land on Earth anyway is pointless and suicidal so, you know, why. If the entire endeavor had been an exploration of nihilism I may feel inclined to grant some leeway but in the same way that I absolutely despise Cormac McCarthy and the previously referenced The Road it’s because absolutely fuck you.

Not you, personally. But one of my favorite Doctor Who moments has to do with Vincent Van Gogh, and not just the nerd fantasy of showing a great artist, who was racked with depression and insecurity in his life, the power of his works. It’s in the line, “He transformed the pain of his tormented life into ecstatic beauty. Pain is easy to portray but to use your passion and pain to portray the ecstasy and joy and magnificence of the world…” Pain is easy to portray, that’s true. I’m guilty of perpetuating it here, in my disappointment and frustration with The Midnight Sky. George Clooney is a terrific actor, see Syriana and a terrific director, see Confessions of a Dangerous Mind and Goodnight and Good Luck. But where McCarthy has what is described as poetry to his nihilism, here there is none of that, only a beginning and middle which is not art, just dazzling set pieces and half-formed ideas. What a waste, particularly in our time and our need for some kind of clarion call. Like the devastated, chaotic Earth hastily and half-heartedly gestured at, what an inexplicable waste of resources, money and time.

The Wilds: On An Island In The Sun

It’s been awhile and I thought it would be nice to check in. There sure is a lot of television to watch, which is a good thing while it lasts. With the world in the state it is, there’s plenty of time to binge watch any and everything and I’m even tempted to get an Apple TV subscription, even though I find the concept morally and ethically repugnant. But there’s Ted Lasso! However, the will to watch something brand new hasn’t exactly manifested, instead I’ve been rewatching old favorites. I even discovered I have an HBO Max subscription in addition to my HBO Now and the most remarkable thing about that addition is there is almost nothing in that massive collection of media that I have any interest in. Way to go, Warner Media, I will be enjoying your theatrical releases at home next year.

The primary reason for my recursive viewing habits is your generally depressed state of mind, I get that chronic Seasonal Affective Disorder and with all that’s been going on, it hit with a real vengeance this December. So I stick with what’s familiar, with what won’t trigger the sad faceys or, you know, an existential crisis. But after stumbling across a positive review from a site that I trust I decided to give The Wilds a shot, based on the interesting premise and not because I’m a pervert or something.

Nine teenage girls are trapped on a deserted island after a plane crash and… now, wait, wait, hold on. I said I was not a pervert and I meant it. In this regard, anyway. The show’s creator and most of the writers and directors are women and there are none of the typical attempts to sexualize any of the actresses. They have sexuality, from the more conservative to the very much not that, but it’s in no way a byproduct of titillation (heh), rather than one of the many ways that each of them, coming from all different walks of life, are humanized.

I’d have to share the sentiment that the review that inspired my viewing also shared; this is not going to blow the doors off the pop culture establishment, it’s not a watershed moment in TV history, and is flawed in a handful of small, inside baseball kind of ways. Stuff that only nerds like me, who rewatches something like The West Wing at least once a year, for fun, will notice in terms of shot selection, dialogue, story logic. But nitpickery aside, The Wilds is a very good television show, with a lot of heart, an intriguing premise that it mostly effectively explores, and a uniquely feminine story perspective that is becoming more and more commonplace thanks to a certain movement.

I like that movement and it’s effects on popular culture and not because I’m trying to impress some Women’s Lib chicks or anything, obviously, I just used the word ‘chicks‘. I like stories from a new or different perspective because, hmm, let me try and find the words to explain succinctly…because they are new and/or different. I do not understand the brand of internet troll that get bent out of shape because female or minority characters are empowered or stories are now being told from their viewpoint, who shout WOKE BULLSHIT on whatever message board will have them. I could not be less impressed with people who object to inclusiveness or progressive concepts in storytelling or strong female characters, even if it occasionally fails, he said, looking in the direction of Rey…”Skywalker”.

And it does fail here and there, because when it’s artificial and token I understand the hostility, but The Wilds is neither of those things. If it were just about some teens trying to survive on coconuts and berries that have complimentary personalities or skillsets, that find friendship and each other, if this were The Breakfast Club crossed with Cast Away, I’d be far less inclined to write about it. I mean, it kind of is those things, exploring each character’s history and pathos via flashback a la Lost but with one fewer Smoke Monster but it is also satisfying and addictive, if a little bit of a stretch practically. Because there is more going on on the island than there appears. There is a mystery afoot. The premise is…sus.

Did I use that reference correctly? I don’t play videogames with other people or lie which is what I believe is the whole point of Among Us and I only know that because of Reddit. So I will give away the one minor spoiler that is revealed in the pilot episode and really needs to be in order to sufficiently drum up interest: the girls are alone on the island but they are being monitored by electronic, possibly nefarious means. How does that work? Well, that’s all you get from me.

In all honesty, it was a few episodes of the 10 episode first season before I really set my phone down and felt invested, through no fault of anyone involved. Such is the risk of an ensemble cast, each episode spends more time with one character at a time, so it’s essentially like watching a series of first episodes. This is only detrimental if your attention span is as short as mine is nowadays (second shout out to Reddit), but by the end of the season I found the quality I was looking for. One of my favorite things that good television can do is surprise the audience’s expectations with regard to which character they sympathize with and how. I like to think of Jon Bernthal’s character in The Walking Dead, back when I still cared about that show. I remember hating him so much, I fumed at everyone for not seeing what was happening to him. Then his character was killed off and I suddenly lost interest in the whole thing. It was immediately apparent that even though he was loathsome, Shane was the most interesting part of the entire show. He had an arc and affected the characters around him as opposed to everyone else who just seem to have things happen to them.

The Wilds does this really well. I found myself most interested in the character that I least liked originally. I found the strong characters in the beginning the most flawed and the boring characters suddenly tragic. It brought to mind one of the best examples of this kind of social experiment, the science fiction film Cube which similarly examined the effect of an extraordinary, high stress situation on conventional personality types. The Wilds takes that experiment and adds another element, one I will definitely not spoil, that keeps the thrills and twists coming all the way through.

So without being too…sus myself, (I’ll stop) I’m going to suggest sitting down with the 10 episode first season now streaming on Amazon Prime, but do yourself a favor. Take notes on who everyone is at first and then take a look at that list at the end. This is something I wish that I’d done on my first go around because it’s all the more rewarding when the storytellers effectively pull the wool over your eyes, like a well executed magic trick. And even if the mystery isn’t your thing, there’s still a series of well told stories about well realized characters at the heart of this maze. Or is there?

(That was confusing, yes, there are.)