Favorites of 2018 (and 2017)

L to R, top to bottom: Annihilation, Antony & Cleopatra,
Pelleas & Melisandre, Burning

Putting together "best of" lists in these times can feel frivolous, and last year I never got beyond a perfunctory list of my favorites. 2018 was a blur of more awfulness and protests, plus getting out the vote and progress in the Mueller investigation. It was also a damn fine year for cinema, and I got the list together. Here are my favorites in various categories (and 2017's picks at the end).

Movies

L to R, top to bottom: Blindspotting, Hereditary,
Burning, The Favourite, Annihilation,
The Death of Stalin

Annihilation: This movie reminded me of Under the Skin in several ways, including the audience's love-it-or-hate-it reaction. I loved it, but there was a lot of weird laughter at dramatic moments in my screening. Great special effects, and I preferred this contemplative, ambiguous film to director Alex Garland's debut, Ex Machina.

Blindspotting: With Black Panther, Sorry to Bother You, and Blindspotting, 2018 was a big cinematic year for Oakland. Directed by Carlos López Estrada and written by and starring Daveed Diggs and Rafael Casal, tonal roller coaster Blindspotting looks at a contemporary, gentrifying Oakland and police violence.

The Death of Stalin: I watched this movie twice this year. Once in theaters, and then again after Brett Kavanaugh was confirmed to the Supreme Court. Totalitarianism is a cancer, but the way its aggrandizement and increasingly ludicrous untruths inevitably paint its loyalists into corners is ripe for satire. How else to capture the whiplash of absurdities and atrocities?

Hereditary: As in other A24 horror movie The Witch, a teenager must deal with not only a malevolent supernatural entity, but with guilt, grief, and the weight of the family's blame in the aftermath of a tragedy. Toni Collette and Ann Dowd are powerhouses.

The Favourite: I went into this expecting to be wowed by Olivia Colman, and was even more wowed than anticipated. Yorgos Lanthimos takes a historic event (Britain's withdrawal from the War of the Spanish Succession) and gives us a tightly wound story of politics, power plays, chronic illness, abusive relationships, and Mad Max: Fury Road's Nux in elaborate 18th Century finery.

Burning: Based on a short story by Haruki Murakami, this slow burn by Chang-dong Lee is a master class in cinematography and tension. It's also very much of the zeitgeist. In Burning, Seoul's underemployed millennials live in cramped, dark studios or their parents' houses and compete in the marginal gig economy while their 1-percenter peers lounge in the tony Gangnam neighborhood Psy made world-famous a few years back. The three lead actors (Ah-in Yoo, Steven Yeun, and Jong-seo Jun) are excellent.

Books (I read in 2018, not necessarily published in 2018)

Moriarty by Anthony Horowitz: This twisty post-Reichenbach Falls Sherlock Holmes novel deals with whether or not math professor/crime lord James Moriarty survived that incident. Includes my new favorite Moriarty origin story. (Fans of this sort of thing might also want to check out Professor Moriarty: The Hound of the D'Urbervilles by Kim Newman.)

Wonder Valley by Ivy Pochoda: Drifters, runaways, and cultists populate this contemporary Southern California noir.

The Charm Buyers by Lillian Howan: One of the highlights of 2018 was reading at Lit Crawl, an annual evening of literary readings across San Francisco's Mission District. After my group's reading, a few of us ended up at a reading where Lillian Howan read a short story so powerful that I had to look her up and order her novel. In The Charm Buyers, Marc Antoine Chen, a member of the Chinese Hakka community in Tahiti, has a loving extended family and is the heir to a fortune in black pearl cultivation. But Marc seems determined not to make life easy for himself, shunning his father's business in favor of his own illegal operations and falling for first his cousin and then an older French woman. When his cousin falls ill, Marc must decide whether or not to potentially sacrifice everything for her.

The Yonahlosse Riding Camp for Girls by Anton DiSclafani: Just squeaking in under the wire (I devoured this book over the holidays) is this Depression-set page-turner about a Florida teenager sent away to a remote girls' boarding school after a mysterious, scandalizing incident. Horses + a narrator who's a prickly but engaging addition to the "coming of age" genre.

TV

The Good Place and Kid Gorgeous at Radio City

While the movies I loved this year often starkly confronted our current times, I looked for laughs and comfort in other media. This year I finally started watching (and quickly got caught up on) The Good Place, which, despite being about death and Hell, is a warm blanket and cup of tea of a show. Honestly, few things have helped me with my anxiety as much as William Jackson Harper's Chidi.

John Mulaney's special Kid Gorgeous at Radio City is his best so far and a welcome respite as we try to deal with the horse loose in this hospital. Plus, there's a solid intro of Art Deco porn if you're into that.

Theater

The dancers of Fury

Pelleas & Melisandre: I attended all three of West Edge Opera's summer productions, and this Debussy opera directed by Keturah Stickann was my favorite with its lush, sensuous sets and costumes. For 2019, I'm most looking forward to Elkhanah Pulitzer's take on The Threepenny Opera!

Fury: A ballet based on Mad Max: Fury Road? It works!

Antony & Cleopatra: A National Theatre Live production with Ralph Fiennes and Sophie Okonedo as Shakespeare's hot mess couple? Yes, please! I bought this ticket impulsively on a Bad News day (I don't even remember which one), but it was well worth the drive to the Lark Theater in Larkspur.

Other

Randy Rainbow: Another year of the Trump Administration, another year of Randy Rainbow keeping us sane! Throughout the lows and lower lows of 2018, Randy was there with timely song parodies. My personal favorite this year was his Gilbert and Sullivan take on "a very stable genius," but other topics included Rudy Giuliani joining Trump's legal team and the ever-intensifying Mueller investigation. Can't wait to see him live with my mom in 2019!



And 2017:

Theater:
SF Ballet Frankenstein
SF Ballet Salome
Cyrano de Bergerac - Livermore Shakespeare
La Traviata - SF Opera
Girls of the Golden West - SF Opera

Books:
Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders
A Brief History of Seven Killings by Marlon James
The Decameron by Boccaccio

Movies:
The Florida Project
Paterson
Call Me By Your Name

Elementary & Sherlock

Like A.V. Club's Myles McNutt, I was hoping to go into CBS's Elementary without comparing it to BBC's Sherlock, which I recently started watching. But, as McNutt admits, as hard as one can try to not compare them, it's almost impossible not to. They're both modern-day adaptations of Sherlock Holmes, with Elementary conveniently appearing well after Sherlock had established itself as a darling of fans and critics alike. The inevitable rivalry was heightened when Benedict Cumberbatch (BBC's Sherlock's Sherlock) implied Jonny Lee Miller (CBS's Elementary's Sherlock) took the job only to sustain his LA mansion & trophy wife lifestyle, which was either cutting bitchery or a misquote. Basically, the two are going to be compared, and that might not be favorable to Elementary.

Jonny Lee Miller's Sherlock is an arrogant dick. And his Sherlock should be an arrogant dick, because Sherlock is kind of an arrogant dick. But while Benedict Cumberbatch's Sherlock's dickery comes from a place of arrogance, it also derives from his honest confusion regarding social norms and is tempered by his breathless enthusiasm and poignant vulnerability - which is why although he belittles and irritates the people in his life (Watson, Mycroft, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, etc.), these same people humor and protect him rather than punch him in the face (although Molly should seriously punch him in the face). And, with the help of threat-happy manic pixie dream villain Jim Moriarty, he's learning, gradually, just how much those people mean to him in return. Nothing like "Imma kill all your friends and also dance" to bring things into perspective.

They mean nothing! Now leave me to my pouting couch.

Jonny Lee Miller's Sherlock is more of just an asshole addict. Which is totally fair, considering that in Doyle's stories, Sherlock had quite the taste for you know what. But Miller's Sherlock's assholishness is laced with aggression, as seen in the pilot when he screams at a female assault victim (which, to be fair, gives Lucy Liu's Watson a great opening to shut that shit down). In last night's episode, "While You Were Sleeping," when Sherlock breaks into an apartment without a warrant in front of the police and the resident, there's a clear "fuck you, I do what I want" vibe. In Sherlock, when Sherlock technically breaks the law - for example, by withholding evidence in "A Study in Pink" - it's more of a "I am trying to solve the case and I need that to solve the case so why would I have given it to you kthxbai" vibe. Miller's Sherlock is not as immediately endearing as Cumberbatch's, but this does give the character ways to develop that are very different and still affecting. I did like how in last night's episode we saw more of how Sherlock views his addiction: he's still in denial and a bit ashamed. He's hiding his rehab stay from others, disdainful towards his group sessions, but also gently urges a drugged-up lawyer to get help while simultaneously bullying him for client information.

I think A.V. Club user Nate the Great (yes, getting into those peer-reviewed sources now) states the gist of the differences between the two series well in his/her comment on the the A.V. Club's review of last night's episode: "Elementary is a police procedural using the character names for people who haven't read [Arthur Conan Doyle]. Sherlock is written by fans of [Doyle] for fans of [Doyle], and it's a clear loving tribute." This feel absolutely true. Elementary is a procedural and could be any procedural. Joan Watson and Sherlock Holmes could be Melody Lee and Brian Smith and it would be another unconventional detective/long-suffering sidekick series, albeit with less character than Monk or Psych. Despite last night's violin shout-out, there's not much Holmsian about it. Sherlock revels in its Doyle roots in a clever way, while making something new and much fresher than Elementary despite more closely sticking to the Victorian source material.

Plaid is British, right?

That said, I adore, adore, adore Lucy Liu's Watson. Emotionally wounded yet a tough cookie, Liu subtly gives Watson strength and reservedness. Still getting over a tragedy that ended her career as a surgeon, she's a work in progress like recovering addict Holmes. And it's clear Holmes recognizes and appreciates her crime-solving talents, even if she's still doubtful of herself.

So I'm not ready to give up on Elementary yet. I think TV could use some more male/female platonic friendships, and there are parts I'm finding engaging. Will they do more with Watson's male Mary (Ty) Morstan? I'm also interested in learning more about "what happened" in London, which Watson has deduced concerned a woman. Was it Jersey girl adventuress/opera singer Irene Adler? They are near New Jersey, and Watson knows from Sherlock's father that Sherlock once loved opera, which Sherlock now vehemently denies. Or could the woman be a fem Professor Moriarty? BTW my dream fem Professor Moriarty is totally boho-frumpy and surrounded by books and drafts of Ph.D. candidates' theses while plotting crimes. I want Selma Blair in ankle-length skirts and lumpy sweaters. Just saying, Elementary crew.

Review - Professor Moriarty: the Hound of the D'Urbervilles

I've found this whole "novel-length fanfiction of public domain works swarming bookstores" a little trying. Not because I have anything against fanfiction, our modern populist pulp (indeed, I long for the day when someone makes two straight male characters I've written have sex, because then I'll know I've made it), but because there's something just so eye-rollingly trite and opportunistic about Mr. Darcy novels written for bookclubs.

Fortunately, Kim Newman's 2011 novel, Professor Moriarty: the Hound of the D'Urbervilles, is not like that. Intensely researched and deliciously witty, The Hound of the D'Urbervilles takes Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's mirror image of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson - master criminals Professor James Moriarty and Colonel Sebastian Moran - and makes them the stars, with right-hand-man Moran narrating. While Holmes and Watson lived together on Baker Street and were served tea by Mrs. Hudson, in Newman's world, Moriarty and Moran are flatmates on Conduit Street and are waited on by Mrs. Halifax, who runs the brothel downstairs. Like Holmes, Moriarty is quite asexual, however, and his interactions with the prostitutes are mostly limited to lending the resident dominatrix his professorial accessories and asking them to care for his beloved pet wasps while he's out.

As Tumblrific as that sounds, Newman keeps very much with what we see of the pair in Doyle's very limited showcasing of them, and doesn't make them young, hot, and in love (although there sure ain't anything wrong with that). Moriarty is Doyle's elderly math teacher. Moran is Doyle's adventurous but over-the-hill hunter.

Not exactly (the amazing) Andrew Scott.

The different adventures in the book each parallel one of Doyle's famous detective stories. There's the titular story, obviously, and also a blackmail case involving New Jersey opera singer/adventuress Irene Adler and her sexy photos titled "A Shambles in Belgravia." It's obvious these were written separately, but that works perfectly for mirroring the episodic Sherlock Holmes saga. Perhaps my favorite story here is the unabashedly ridiculous and oddly charming "The Red Planet League," in which Moriarty seeks revenge on his most hated enemy ever: Sir Nevil Airey Stent, a rival mathematician who has ridiculed Moriarty's academic work! The plot involves Mars and vampire squid, and somehow Newman holds it all together.

I was very impressed with this "holding together" skill of Newman's. There are endless references to other famous works in the mystery genre and British literature, humorous asides, and inside jokes that build and build upon themselves, yet never does he lose Moran's voice. Moran's the epitome of myopic Victorian Empire hubris, and he makes for an entertaining narrator.

You're not dead, Holmes? But I threw a rock and you and then left!

You can be entertained for quite a while, too. A surprisingly hefty volume, The Hound of the D'Urbervilles had me laughing over a number of Muni bus rides and made two flights in between San Francisco International and Charles de Gaulle Airports much less painful.  

My only complaint was that a certain aspect of the ending felt rushed and unresolved. Of course, Doyle's ending to the franchise was why furious Victorian readers bullied him into writing more, so perhaps that should be a kudos instead to Newman. 

Moriarty and Moran illustrations from original Sherlock Holmes illustrator Sidney Paget.

Sherlock Holmes: A Steampunk Bromance (With Explosions)

 You just lost...the game. Take that, shadow.

This weekend I saw Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows, the sequel to 2009's flashy steampunk reboot. This 2011 edition has some critics bored and dismissive, but Roger Ebert loved it, because he is easily delighted and is also just an awesome guy who knows how to have fun.

And yeah, it has faults. Lots of them. Faults that shimmer with special effects in slow motion and then explode for no reason. But dammit, it's a fun time.

Okay, let's start with the faults. Even putting aside the fact that Guy Ritchie apparently jizzes special effects and superfluous fight scenes, there was a lot thrown in to this movie. Some of the indulgent little asides were great (the most heart-warming pigeon-feeding scene since Mary Poppins, Stephen Fry doing anything), and some just added to the run time. I can't apologize for laughing at a way-longer-than-it-needed-to-be sequence involving an adorable little pony scurrying around, though. Adorable little scurrying ponies get a lot of leeway.

Let us put on our goggles for our ride in the motorcar.

Then there's the lady issue. Obviously a movie needs a lady now and then, but what to do with them? Rachel McAdams is back in the beginning, I guess to show us Holmes is sexy and to give him even more motivation for solving crimes or maybe McAdams had a contract or something? Then Noomi Rapace's character shows up simply to be a woman on screen and also sort of help the protagonists find the McGuffin. Ironically, near the end we find out that Dr. Watson's bride Mary, who was kicked off the honeymoon by Sherlock in drag (he had his reasons), was being totally capable and awesome off-screen the whole time.

But to move to the good: Moriarty! Mad Men's Jared Harris is perfect as the math professor/supervillain. It's easy to imagine his Professor James Moriarty calmly advising graduate students and also efficiently running a worldwide criminal organization. And along with Irene Adler and Mycroft Holmes, another minor Doyle character gets some screen time: Sebastian Moran, Moriarty's "bosom friend" (Doyle's words) and top assassin. Their quiet, proper, murderous partnership gets some quick "don't worry about me!" theatrics, but the film's main bromance really lets it all hang out.

Wow, Sebastian. You look a lot better than when Paget drew you.

Downey and Jude Law are hilarious and full of chemistry again as Holmes and Watson, and there is no attempt at subtlety time around. "Lie down with me," a half-naked Holmes demands at one point. After one argument, they wrestle in a manner that threatens to impregnate Law. And there's the whole crashed honeymoon thing. But, although the trendy bromance is played up to the point of buffoonery, you always feel that there's true affection and devotion behind it. Holmes is jealous of Mary, and desperate to protect Watson, and if he has to wear a dress and lipstick and then jump around shirtless to prove his love for his friend, that is what he is going to do.

And herein lies the difference between Robert Downey Jr.'s Sherlock and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock (and really, it's silly to even pretend they're the same). In Doyle's The Sign of the Four, when Watson breaks the news to Holmes that he's marrying Mary, whom they met on a case Holmes solved but didn't get credit for, he asks Holmes what's left for him. "'For me,' said Sherlock Holmes, 'there remains the cocaine bottle.' And he stretched his long white hand up for it." Yes, Doyle's Sherlock passive aggressively mopes and shoots up. He'd still put his life on the line for Watson, but he's not going to wear a dress. And while Downey's Sherlock is quite the wooer, perhaps the closest Doyle's Sherlock was willing to get to having sex with a person was when he kept a picture of Irene Adler as a memento after she outsmarted him in "A Scandal in Bohemia." Irene Adler was bangin' dudes like a boss in that story, but Holmes certainly wasn't one of them.

But it doesn't matter. Nothing with this many explosions is trying to be true to Doyle, and that's fine (interestingly, an important sequence near the end is true to Doyle, and leaves the door wide open for a third installment). This movie is about witty, attractive guys having adorable friendships and also action stuff happening, and it does those things very well.

You never wear lipstick for me anymore.