Hello, anime fans. We’re back with more gems from last year’s anime world, this time featuring the return of one of the most popular and controversial remakes of recent times. A return that didn’t generate as much excitement as its first season did when it premiered almost two years ago. Based on the manga series of the same name written and illustrated by the great Rumiko Takahashi, Ranma ½ was produced by the famous MAPPA studio. Let’s talk again about the anime of the boy who turns into a girl when he gets wet.

Hola, fanáticos del anime. Volvemos con más joyas del mundo del anime del año pasado, esta vez con el regreso de uno de los remakes más populares y polémicos que han existido en la actualidad. Un regreso que no causó tanta emoción como lo tuvo con su primera temporada estrenada hace casi dos años. Basada en la serie de manga homónima escrita e ilustrada por la gran Rumiko Takahashi, Ranma ½ fue producida por el famoso estudio MAPPA. Volvamos a hablar del anime del chico que se convierte en mujer cuando se moja.

Source: FilmAffinity.

Plot

The second season begins with the return of Akane Tendo and Ranma Saotome, who, after learning that their parents have arranged their engagement, have no choice but to live together while attending school. After some time, one of Ranma’s romantic rivals, Hikaru Goensuki, returns to pursue his goal of marrying Akane. However, seeing that she pays him no attention, he decides to declare war on Ranma, her current fiancé. Despite all his efforts, Hikaru cannot defeat him in any way. That is when the eccentric Kasumi appears to him and reveals Ranma’s weakness so he can use it against him.

Trama

La segunda temporada inicia con el regreso de Akane Tendo y Saotome Ranma quienes, después de enterarse de que están comprometidos por decisión de sus padres, no tienen otra opción que vivir juntos mientras van a la escuela. Luego de un tiempo así, uno de los rivales amorosos de Ranma, Hikaru Goensuki, vuelve para cumplir con su objetivo de casarse con Akane. Sin embargo, al ver que ella no le presta atención, decide declararle la guerra a Ranma, su actual prometido. A pesar de todos sus esfuerzos, Hikaru no consigue vencerlo de ningún modo. Es así como el rarito de Kasumi se le aparece y le cuenta la debilidad de Ranma para utilizarlo en su contra.

Trailer & Review

Here’s the trailer for the second season of this anime:

By: Netflix Anime

All the best.

By: Nattosheru.

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The dilemma of how to sustain a horror franchise after dispatching its titular monster is not a modern invention. Six or seven decades ago, the fledgling Hammer Films series dedicated to Count Dracula faced precisely this problem following the resounding success of their 1958 picture, which had launched both the character and the studio’s Gothic horror cycle with visceral panache. With Christopher Lee’s Dracula reduced to dust at the climax of that film, the producers were left with a conundrum: how to craft a sequel without the star villain. The Brides of Dracula, released in 1960, is their intriguing, if somewhat uneven, solution—a film that tries to expand the mythology while clinging to familiar tropes, resulting in a piece that is both a fascinating historical artefact and a satisfying, if flawed, entry in the canon.

As with the 1958 original, the directorial reins were held by Terence Fisher, Hammer’s house stylist of the macabre, and the script was once again penned by Jimmy Sangster (though with contributions from Peter Bryan, playwright Edward Percy, and an uncredited Anthony Hinds). This continuity behind the camera provides a reassuring consistency of tone and aesthetic. The film opens with a narration that cleverly sidesteps the absence of the Count by positing that Dracula was merely one of many vampires plaguing Transylvania at the close of the 19th century, and that the land remains infested with undead nobles seeking to swell their ranks. This narrative sleight-of-hand immediately sets the stage for a story that exists in the same world but is free from the burden of the previous film’s conclusion.

The plot follows Marianne (Yvonne Monclair), a young Frenchwoman travelling to take up a teaching post at a girls’ school in Transylvania. After encountering strangely fearful locals at an inn, she accepts the invitation of the eccentric Baroness Meinster (Martita Hunt) to stay at her decaying estate. There, she discovers the Baroness’s son, the youthful Baron Meinster (David Peel), kept in chains. Succumbing to his persuasive charms, Marianne frees him, unwittingly unleashing a vampire whose first acts are to drive his mother and her servant Greta (Freda Jackson) into murderous insanity. Fleeing the estate, Marianne collapses on the road, only to be found the next morning by Dr. Van Helsing (Peter Cushing), who has come to the region specifically to hunt the undead. After allowing Marianne to proceed to the school, Van Helsing pieces together the truth: the Baron is a vampire who was imprisoned by his mother to contain his evil, and has now turned her and others, including Marianne’s school colleague (Andrée Melly) and a peasant girl (Marie Deveraux). The Baron sets his sights on making Marianne his latest bride, leading to a final confrontation at a windmill where Van Helsing must use his wits and courage to destroy the fiend.

The most glaring absence, of course, is that of Dracula himself, a direct result of Christopher Lee’s refusal to return, fearing typecasting. Lee would not don the cape again until Dracula, Prince of Darkness in 1966. In his stead, the film is carried by Lee’s friend and frequent co-star Peter Cushing, who reprises his role as Van Helsing with impeccable authority and steely resolve. Cushing’s presence is a major asset; his Van Helsing is a figure of rational, proactive heroism, a Victorian man of science battling supernatural pestilence. The 1958 film redefined the concept of the vampire and was bold and shocking for the standards of the time, largely due to Lee’s “raw, physical menace. The Brides of Dracula attempts to forge a new path without that iconic presence, but the shadow of Lee looms large.

The film’s structure is its most interesting formal experiment. The first half functions as a traditional Gothic melodrama, centred on Marianne’s journey into a world of decaying aristocracy, family secrets, and genteel horror. It is only after the interval that Van Helsing arrives, and the picture shifts into a more conventional vampire hunt, replete with all the expected tropes: garlic, crucifixes, stakings, and an aversion to daylight. This bifurcation gives the film a curious, almost schizophrenic quality. The initial setup is atmospheric and suspenseful, benefiting from Martita Hunt’s gloriously unhinged performance as the Baroness, a woman trapped between maternal love and monstrous duty. Once Cushing appears, the pace quickens into a series of set-pieces, but the narrative becomes more predictable.

To its credit, the script does introduce some variations on the established lore. Most notable is the sequence where Van Helsing himself is bitten on the neck. Instead of succumbing, he cauterises the wound with a hot iron and purifies it with holy water—a gruesome and inventive moment of self-surgery that adds a new layer to the vampire hunter’s arsenal and his almost monastic dedication. The climax, too, strives for visual invention: Baron Meinster is destroyed by being caught in the giant, cross-like shadow of a windmill’s sails as they turn in the moonlight. It’s an abrupt but striking conclusion, leveraging symbolism over straightforward violence.

Where the film stumbles is in some of its execution. Unlike the 1958 original, which dispensed with shapeshifting due to budget constraints, The Brides of Dracula attempts to reintroduce the idea of vampires turning into bats. The effects, however, are unconvincing, even by the standards of the day—a clear case of ambition outstripping technical resources. Similarly, David Peel, while suitably aristocratic and malevolent as the vampire Baron, cannot match the terrifying, sensual magnetism of Lee. Peel is effective in a somewhat bland way; he lacks the animalistic threat that Lee brought to the role. It is perhaps telling that Peel abandoned acting not long after for a career in estate agency.

The production, however, remains a triumph of Hammer’s house style. The film benefits immensely from the lush production design and the familiar, fog-shrouded sets of Bray Studios, which expertly disguise the modest budget. The Technicolor palette is rich with deep reds, velvety blacks, and ghostly whites, creating a sumptuous Gothic atmosphere. The supporting cast is excellent: alongside Hunt’s scene-chewing, Freda Jackson brings a chilling, earthy menace as the devoted servant Greta, and Miles Malleson provides welcome comic relief in a brief turn as the hypochondriac Dr. Tobler.

The Brides of Dracula is a fascinating transitional piece in the Hammer Dracula series. Hamstrung by the absence of its title character and occasionally retreating into cliché, it nevertheless succeeds through atmospheric direction, strong production values, and Peter Cushing’s commanding central performance. It expands the universe’s mythology in small ways and delivers a solid, entertaining Gothic chiller. While it may not reach the groundbreaking heights of the 1958 film, it is still a satisfying and recommendable slice of classic horror cinema for aficionados of Hammer and the genre at large.

RATING: 6/10 (++)

==

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Hello! 💙

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Esta serie fue un fenómeno en Nickelodeon en su momento Y es que la historia de un Avatar que controlaba los cuatro elementos logró atrapar a nuestros niños interiores en ese momento y ahora con esta película que continúa directamente como se cuela de la primera serie y a su vez precuela de la historia de korra, logra Elevar no solo el nivel de la animación la cual compite fácilmente con la de los mejores animes sino con una historia impecable que la verdad no tiene ningún pero en contra.

This series was a huge hit on Nickelodeon back in the day. The story of an Avatar who could control the four elements really captured our inner child at the time, and now, with this movie—which picks up directly where the first series left off and also serves as a prequel to Korra’s story— it manages to elevate not only the quality of the animation—which easily rivals that of the best anime—but also with a flawless story that, honestly, has absolutely no flaws.

Fuente de imagen

Y sí la película tiene: muy negativos pero no tienen nada que ver con su historia ni con su animación tienen que ver con la manera de hacer marketing a la hora de distribuir esta película primero que nada es una película que estaba destinada al cine pero después decidieron cancelarlo y ponerle únicamente para paramount Plus a partir del mes de octubre del 2026 pero la película terminó por ser filtrada y muchas personas incluyéndome hemos decidido verla no solo por los spoilers sino también porque la película de todas maneras sigue sin ser destinada para el cine incluso Me atrevo a decir que si actualmente el estudio decidiera estrenarle cines más de uno y me incluyo en este caso nuevamente en ir a verlo.

And yes, the movie does have: very negative reviews, but they have nothing to do with the story or the animation; they have to do with the marketing approach used to distribute this film. First of all, it was a movie intended for theaters, but then they decided to cancel that and release it exclusively on Paramount Plus starting in October 2026. However, the film ended up being leaked, and many people—myself included—have decided to watch it not only because of the spoilers but also because the movie still isn’t intended for theaters. I’d even go so far as to say that if the studio decided to release it in theaters now, I’d be one of the first in line to go see it.

Fuente de imagen

Sin llegar a hacer spoiler ciertos elementos que suceden en la serie secuela de Avatar en parte son respondidos en esta película La verdad es que si bien puedes disfrutar perfectamente de esta película Sin haber visto nada de la serie porque sí al principio nos dan un breve resumen de todo lo que pasó en menos de un minuto lo cual es bastante Útil para que te puedas familiarizar con la película Sin sentir una obligación de ver la serie o Igualmente por si decides invitar a ver una persona que ni en su momento ni en ningún instante tuvo la oportunidad de ver la serie pero la verdad es que si ya viste la serie cuando eras niño o decidiste verlo en internet en algún punto la verdad es que saldrás maravillado con todo lo que pudieron lograr con esta gran historia.

Without giving away any spoilers, certain plot points from the Avatar sequel series are partially addressed in this movie. The truth is, while you can certainly enjoy this movie without having seen any of the series—since they do give us a brief recap of everything that happened in under a minute at the beginning, which is quite helpful for getting familiar with the movie without feeling obligated to watch the series—or even if you decide to invite someone to watch who never had the chance to watch the series, the truth is that if you watched the series as a child or decided to watch it online at some point, you’ll be amazed by everything they’ve managed to achieve with this great story.

¡Hasta la próxima, un abrazo!

In the distant year of 2019, in happier times unburdened by global health and macroeconomic disruptions, for not so small a number of people the question of all questions was what would be the next Game of Thrones after Game of Thrones. Numerous TV networks had been trying to find the answer even before the saga ended, including HBO, for whom precisely that globally epic fantasy series was a golden goose, and whose attempt with Westworld ended unsuccesfully. HBO's most dangerous rival – the streaming giant Netflix – also joined the competition, attempting to compensate for any quality shortcomings with quantity – through furious churning out of new series. Perhaps precisely because of the sea of new Netflix titles, a project that most closely matches the parameters of Game of Thrones in terms of content and theme remained outside the expected attention – namely, a screen adaptation of a globally popular cycle of books in the epic fantasy genre. This is about the TV series The Witcher, based on the stories and novels by Polish writer Andrzej Sapkowski.

Sapkowski published the first story from the cycle in 1986, establishing himself as not only a gifted writer but also a capable entrepreneur, who served the audience, primarily the domestic one, with stories and characters that add infusions of Slavic mythology to the Tolkien-esque world of swords, sorcerers and elves, but also "spicier" content involving explicit violence and sex, as well as morally ambiguous characters of the sort that Game of Thrones would later accustom us to. Sapkowski gained such popularity that as early as 2001 his work was first adapted for the screen as, albeit short-lived, Polish TV series Wiedźmin (distributed in English-speaking territories under the title The Hexer). However, it gained international fame only in 2007 thanks to the video game The Witcher, which reached three fairly acclaimed sequels. Therefore, the announcement that Netflix would undertake an adaptation sparked interest, but still not the kind one might expect from a project that should be the new Game of Thrones.

The title character, played by Henry Cavill, is Geralt of Rivia, a witcher who lives on an unnamed Continent that humans settled some five hundred years ago, having defeated the previously dominant elves and dwarves, who were forced to live in remote forests and mountains, or as an oppressed minority in human cities and settlements. However, on the Continent, besides these ancient creatures, one can also find various rather unpleasant forms of supernatural fauna, including monsters that only witchers can defeat. Geralt, who is himself partly of elven descent, is considered the best monster hunter, but is motivated primarily by money, and carries out his services quickly, efficiently and without too much agonising over ethics or concern for matters he thinks don't concern him. This includes the shadows of war looming over the Continent, primarily the Nifgaardian Empire's efforts to subjugate the Northern Kingdoms, and in which, for their own reasons, sorcerers organised in a guild that includes Yennefer of Vengeberg (Anya Chalotra) have also become entangled, and who will embark on a passionate love affair with Geralt. Geralt ultimately becomes further entangled in the war when it turns out that one of the Nifgaardian targets is Princess Cirilla of Cintra (Freya Allan), with whom he is literally fatefully bound, and who flees from the enemy into the elven forests.

At first glance, Netflix's series has taken quite a lot from Game of Thrones. Besides the genre content, there's the season format of just eight one-hour episodes, as well as the engagement of acclaimed director Alik Sakharov. However, the internal structure of the season is significantly different, which is a consequence of the producers' decision to base the season less on the video games that are far better known to the wider public and more on the original literary source. Namely, before the novels, Sapkowski published short story collections – The Last Wish and Sword of Destiny – which serve as a kind of introduction to Geralt's world and on which the first season is based. The plot of the eight episodes is largely based on stories that are standalone adventures and have an episodic character, onto which the main plotline is only subsequently connected, presented through the currently fashionable non-linear narration. Viewers will thus at times be confused and will need time to pick up all the threads, and only towards the end will things start falling into place.

The series is technically satisfactory, but could hardly be called impressive, at least compared to Game of Thrones, which showcased magnificent cities and epic battles. The reason can partly be found in the budget, but also in the effort to be as different as possible from the HBO series. Therefore, a large part of the action takes place in dark interiors, or seemingly prosaic forests, mountains and caves. On the other hand, the cast is more than solid. Special praise should go to Henry Cavill, for whom the role of a cynical anti-hero suits far better than the superhero role of Superman. Anya Chalotra is also very good in a rather demanding role that required her to transform from an ugly duckling into an irresistible seductress. A rather pleasant surprise is also Joel Baty in the role of the travelling bard Jaskier, whose vocal abilities served well for the song "Toss a Coin to Your Witcher", which managed to become a hit close to "The Rains of Castamere". The casting, on the other hand, is in some cases a disappointment, at least when it comes to fans of the video games; thus the sorceress Triss Merigold, whose sex symbol status was confirmed by the cover of the Polish edition of Playboy, here arrived in the incarnation of the not particularly glamorous Anna Shaffer.

Although the first season of The Witcher, which ends with the usual irritating cliffhanger, is unlikely to leave the average viewer open-mouthed, it will mostly satisfy those who could have assumed that the bar set by Game of Thrones is hard to reach on the first attempt. On the other hand, it has laid an exceptionally high-quality foundation on which, with a little more creative and other resources, similarly to the case with the video games, something truly special can be built.

RATING: 7/10 (+++)

(Note: The text in the original Croatian version is available here.)

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Flight 1 (S2x02)

Airdate: 3 August 2008

Written by: Lisa Albert & Matthew Weiner Directed by: Andrew Bernstein

Running Time: 48 minutes

The narrative pace of Mad Men was famously, often agonisingly, glacial. Matthew Weiner’s meticulous period drama preferred the slow burn of character revelation and ambient social tension to conventional plot propulsion. This deliberate tempo was, however, periodically shattered by unexpected “wham” developments, many of which were intrusions from the eventful real history of the 1960s. Flight 1, the second episode of the second season, stands as a prime and ironically meta-textual example. Its plot hinges on a sudden, mass-casualty air disaster—a classic force majeure event. The irony lies in the fact that the episode’s very existence was itself precipitated by a tragic force majeure in the show’s own production.

The real-world event that catalysed the episode occurred on 25 January 2008, when a sudden avalanche at California’s Mountain High ski resort killed three people. Among the deceased was Christopher Allport, the actor cast as Andrew Campbell, Pete’s patrician and dismissive father, who had appeared in Season 1. The character was originally intended to recur, but showrunner Matthew Weiner made a decisive creative choice: rather than recast, he would kill Andrew Campbell off, weaving an unexpected death into the show’s fabric. The episode is dedicated to Allport’s memory, a sombre footnote that lends the on-screen proceedings a palpable, unscripted gravity. This decision transforms a production setback into a narrative strength, using mortality as an unannounced guest that disrupts the Sterling Cooper ecosystem as abruptly as it did the writers’ room.

The episode’s plot begins on the evening of 28 February 1962, with a jarring cultural collision. Junior executives attend a party thrown by the pretentious Paul Kinsey at his New Jersey apartment. The scene brilliantly shows subdued alienation. The Sterling Cooper men, in their uniform grey suits, are visibly uncomfortable amidst beatniks, interracial couples, marijuana smoke, and the sounds of Black music. Kinsey’s motivation is transparently pathetic: he brandishes his new Black girlfriend, Sheila White (Donielle Artese), primarily as a performative act of “cool” aimed at wounding Joan Holloway, with whom he shares a romantic history. It’s a petty, personal drama set against a backdrop of simmering social change, effectively establishing the era’s pervasive anxiety about shifting norms.

The following day, 1 March, the personal is violently eclipsed by the national. Roger Sterling, complaining with characteristic cynicism about traffic snarls caused by ticker-tape parades for astronaut John Glenn, finds his staff gathered silently around a radio. American Airlines Flight 1, a Boeing 707, has crashed into Jamaica Bay shortly after take-off from New York, killing all 95 on board. The initial office reactions are a cocktail of morbid curiosity and gallows humour. For Don Draper, the tragedy is immediately professionalised: he must retool an entire advertising campaign for Mohawk Airlines, whose competitors are now tainted by association. For Pete Campbell, the news soon becomes catastrophically personal. Learning his father was aboard, Pete is rendered catatonic, a boy in a man’s suit, desperately seeking guidance from Don, who offers none. The subsequent revelation that his father was insolvent, leaving a mountain of debts, completes the brutal lesson: death brings not closure, but a cascade of vulgar practical problems.

This is where the episode’s core thematic engine roars to life. Duck Phillips, coming out as the opportunistic weasel, learns through old contacts that American Airlines is in a panic and will require a massive public relations salvage operation. He lobbies Bert Cooper and Roger Sterling to ruthlessly jettison the small-potatoes Mohawk account and pitch their services to the far more lucrative, wounded giant. His logic is coldly pragmatic: even a rejected offer would burnish the agency’s prestige. Don Draper, who worked tirelessly to secure Mohawk, argues passionately for loyalty and stability. In a defining moment for the series, he is overruled. The honour of the individual—Don’s word to his client, Pete’s grief—plays little to no effect against cold corporate calculus. Season 2 excels in showing history reflect[ing] on some private and seemingly ordinary lives, and here that reflection is merciless: capitalism’s brutal essence is its capacity to metabolise tragedy into opportunity.

The episode then brilliantly bifurcates to contrast two forms of professional humiliation. Don is given the unenviable task of informing Mohawk’s Henry Wofford (Matt Reidy) that they are being dropped. Wofford’s chastisement—accusing Don of having fooled him during the original pitch—stings precisely because it contains truth. Don’s creative prowess is exposed as a commodifiable service, devoid of genuine loyalty. He ends in Japanese restaurant, sitting in silent defeat. Conversely, Duck’s pitch to American Airlines’ Shel Kenealy (Vaughn Armstrong) is a grotesque performance of corporate dedication. In a stunningly cynical manoeuvre, Duck brings the shell-shocked Pete to the meeting, using his fresh bereavement as a prop to demonstrate that personal matters wouldn’t matter. It is a chilling illustration of how human feeling is instrumentalised for gain.

Lisa Albert and Matthew Weiner’s script is at its most incisive in this main storyline, but it also constructs a potent symbolic contrast. The technological triumph of the Space Age, embodied by John Glenn (whom Roger cynically compares to a man driving around the block), is immediately undercut by the limits of that same technology in the crashing jet. Yet, for all this brilliance, Flight 1 suffers from its weaker, filler subplots. The domestic scene at the Drapers’, where neighbour Carlton Hanson complains about a teenage babysitter allegedly hired by his wife to tempt him, feels like a trite, underwritten parody of suburban sexual anxiety. Similarly, the introduction of Peggy’s devoutly Catholic sister Anita (Audrey Wasilewski) and mother Katherine (Myra Turley), who are caring for her illegitimate son and pressuring her to attend Mass, is thematically relevant but clumsily expository, lacking the nuanced integration of the show’s best B-stories.

An intriguing, if slightly opaque, grace note concludes the episode. In the Japanese restaurant, Don is approached by an attractive Asian waitress (Elizabeth Tsing) as “Sukiyaki” by Kyu Sakamoto—a genuine 1963 hit—plays. This serves a dual purpose. Primarily, it is a period-accurate detail, a piece of fan service for 1960s aficionados. More interestingly, it visualises Don’s escapist fantasy, a fleeting, exoticised alternative to his present humiliation. It is a silent offer of anonymous solace, a theme that would define his character, though its presentation here is perhaps too subtle to land with full force.

In the end of the day, Flight 1 is a bifurcated episode. Its central narrative, forged in real-life tragedy, is a masterful dissection of American capitalism’s cold heart, showcasing how adroitly the machinery of commerce co-opts personal catastrophe. The performances, particularly from Vincent Kartheiser as a shattered Pete and Jon Hamm as a professionally neutered Don, are superb. However, the episode is dragged down by subplots that feel like obligatory, underwritten padding, preventing it from achieving the flawless status of the season’s later entries like The Jet Set. It remains, however, essential viewing for understanding Mad Men’s overarching thesis: that the great, unsettling forces of history and the market ultimately leave individuals scrambling in their wake, whether they are grieving sons or betrayed ad men.

RATING: 7/10 (+++)

==

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Released in 1987 and directed by Mel Brooks, Spaceballs arrived at a time when Star Wars had completely reshaped pop culture. Instead of trying to compete with that world, Brooks did what he always did best—he parodied it. But like all strong parodies, Spaceballs works because it is not just mocking science fiction. It actually understands and loves the genre.

Mel Brooks directs and also appears in the film as both President Skroob and Yogurt, giving the movie two of its most memorable comic forces. Brooks had already mastered parody with films like Blazing Saddles and Young Frankenstein, and here he turns that same sharp humor toward space adventure.

The plot follows Princess Vespa, played by Daphne Zuniga, who runs away from an arranged marriage and ends up being pursued by the evil Dark Helmet and President Skroob of Planet Spaceball. Their goal is as ridiculous as it is brilliant—they want to steal the fresh air from Planet Druidia because they have literally run out of air.

Bill Pullman plays Lone Starr, the reluctant hero clearly inspired by Han Solo, and he brings the right mix of charm and sarcasm. Alongside him is John Candy as Barf, half man and half dog—his own words, not mine. Candy’s warmth and natural comedic timing make Barf one of the most lovable characters in the film.

Rick Moranis is absolutely fantastic as Dark Helmet, one of the best parody villains ever put on screen. He does not simply imitate Darth Vader. He turns the idea into something completely ridiculous while still somehow making the character feel oddly threatening. Moranis steals nearly every scene he is in.

Joan Rivers voices Dot Matrix, the robotic companion to Princess Vespa, and her sarcastic delivery fits perfectly. George Wyner also deserves credit as Colonel Sandurz, helping round out the villain side of the film with the right amount of deadpan absurdity.

What makes Spaceballs work so well is how fearless it is with jokes. It breaks the fourth wall, mocks merchandising before modern franchises made it even bigger, and openly points out the ridiculousness of movie logic. The humor moves fast and never worries about being subtle.

The “Spaceballs: The Flamethrower” scene alone remains one of the funniest bits in parody history because it perfectly captures how absurd movie merchandising can become. Decades later, it still feels accurate.

Visually, the film does a great job of recreating the look of big science fiction adventures on a comedy budget. The ships, costumes, and sets all feel familiar enough to sell the parody while still having their own goofy personality.

John Morris’s score helps give the movie a real cinematic feel rather than making it look like a sketch stretched too long. That is part of why the comedy lands—the movie treats the ridiculous world seriously enough for the jokes to matter.

John Candy’s performance is especially worth mentioning because he brings genuine heart to a role that could have been pure nonsense. Barf is silly, but Candy makes him feel like a real friend to Lone Starr, and that emotional sincerity gives the film more staying power.

Over the years, Spaceballs has only grown in popularity. It became a cult classic because it is endlessly quotable and still funny even for people who did not grow up during the original Star Wars craze. Good comedy survives when the writing is strong.

What separates it from weaker parody films is that it has actual characters and structure. It is not just random references. There is a real adventure underneath the jokes, and that makes the comedy stronger.

In the end, Spaceballs is an excellent film because it is clever, ridiculous, and made with real affection for the genre it is parodying. It is not just making fun of sci-fi—it is celebrating it while laughing at it.

More than thirty years later, it still holds up as one of the best comedy parodies ever made. That is not just good. That is ludicrous speed.

I really enjoyed the Trailer Park Boys and consider it to be one of the most brilliantly filmed and produced low-budget and risky shows of all time. They went from having zero money and a lot of good ideas into become somewhat mainstream and making cult-legends out of some people that likely wouldn't have been in the fame limelight otherwise. That show only got better with time and when it started to fizzle out they knew when to walk away.

Shoresy I believe is attempting to follow in their footsteps but with a slightly different low-class-Canadian sort of appeal in that they focus on a group of mostly foul-mouthed hockey players and their constant push to be the best in the game.

[src](https://resizing.flixster.com/-XZAfHZM39UwaGJIFWKAE8fS0ak=/v3/t/assets/p25482592_b_v13_aa.jpg)

I'll start things out by saying that I have a rough time with odd accents and an even rougher time with French. The show embraces both of these things and presents them in the most absurd way possible in that the main characters, especially Shorsy, as talking in such a way that is meant to be barely understandable. This can be fun once you figure it out, but can also be really tough to someone who has a less than perfect sound system. For example: Me. I have two TV's in my house. The one in my bedroom has a sort of wonky damage to the speakers that can make some series or films almost impossible to tell what the person on screen is saying and subtitles become necessary. Subtitles kind of ruin the experience in this show because the whole idea behind having the absurd dialogue is that it is absurd. If your subs change the word "tarp" that is being said by Shoresy as in "why do all the fellas have their tarps off" and it changes that to "tops" a lot of the humor is lost.

[src](https://d1rldr9jdodfaa.cloudfront.net/images/01J0KAX6SK3HFHH0JS0P6PEDZ6/ShoresyS3.webp)

If you don't know a great deal about hockey, don't worry about that because it isn't really an important part of the story and I question whether or not most of the people in the cast can actually even skate. They certainly don't focus a great deal on action shots in this. For the most part, just like Trailer Park Boys, this is a dialogue-driven show but unlike TPB it is not done in a documentary style where the characters are frequently doing interviews. It is 3rd person and I suppose it can be somewhat enjoyable.

I think this is one of those things that kind of grows on you the more you watch it and that is why I am not going to give up on it. I do recall giving up on Trailer Park Boys at one time and I ended up regretting that because part of enjoying, I think, both series is that you have to become familiar with the individual characters and understand their quirks before the real humor starts to happen.

[src](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/-mJtHPGpaZs/maxresdefault.jpg)

having never spent much time around hockey players parts of it are a bit of an education for me such as the above scene where some "tough guys" try to step to the players and the players have zero fear even though the people that are stepping to them are huge. The hockey players show that they are all missing teeth before the fight begins and later we see the big dudes all on the ground unconscious. I would imagine that is not too distant from what would actually happen since hockey is basically a fight that happens to have a puck involved in it every now and then.

One thing that really stands out for me that is really good about this series is the musical montages that they frequently have. These are done exceptionally well and often the songs that I am not familiar with are absolute "bangers" too. I believe this is all original music so I gotta give props to whoever their musical supervisor is because those scenes, which normally will happen as bookends on the start and finish of each episode, really make the show.

Should I watch it ?

That trailer doesn't really do a good job of explaining what watching the show is really like. It is more of a comedy than anything else and a rather uncomfortable comedy at that most of the time.

The episodes are less than half an hour long and the story doesn't really seem all that important. Instead they focus on individual skits of sorts that are funny in their own regard for various reasons. It is difficult to explain but I have to respect the unusual and completely original angle they are going for here. This is unlike any other series I have ever seen and while I don't enjoy all of it, I enjoy enough of it to carry on.

_{This series is only legally available to stream as part of a subscription via Hulu, it can be purchased through almost all of the other major streaming services. It has no availability on Netflix}

For Those Who Think Young (S2x01)

Airdate: 27 July 2008

Written by: Matthew Weiner Directed by: Tim Hunter

Running Time: 48 minutes

As Mad Men embarks upon its second season, it remains steadfast in a narrative pace that many contemporary viewers—accustomed to the relentless momentum of modern television—would describe as glacial. Yet this deliberate tempo is not a flaw but a deliberate aesthetic, one that the series compensates for with a bold structural gambit: leaping forward fifteen months. Where Season 1 meticulously dissected the world of 1960, Season 2 opens in February 1962, a decision that immediately heightens the sense of a society on the cusp. This temporal jump is not merely a convenient reset; it is the episode’s first and most profound statement about change, a theme that permeates every scene of For Those Who Think Young.

Matthew Weiner’s script precisely anchors the episode in history by establishing the date as 14 February 1962. The Valentine’s Day setting is more than a backdrop for failed romantic gestures; it is woven into the fabric of the episode through the ubiquitous cultural event of Jacqueline Kennedy’s televised tour of the White House. As the characters gather to watch, the First Lady’s curated vision of youthful, modern elegance becomes a national mirror, reflecting the very aspirations and anxieties the episode explores. The tour serves as a shared experience, a real-time historical anchor that contrasts sharply with the private disillusionments unfolding in the characters’ lives. This juxtaposition is classic Mad Men: public optimism versus private despair, with the medium of television itself acting as a reluctant herald of a new era.

The central motif, as the title declares, is youth—or more accurately, its perceived loss and the desperate desire to reclaim it. For Don Draper, this is triggered not by a spiritual epiphany but by a brutally mundane insurance-mandated physical. The doctor’s verdict that he must start taking care of himself because, at 36, “this is it” lands with the force of a death sentence. Don’s subsequent attempt at a grand Valentine’s getaway with Betty at the Hotel Savoy ends not in rekindled passion but in impotence and retreat, the couple silently watching Jackie Kennedy’s tour instead of making their own history. This sequence masterfully ties the personal to the cultural: Don’s confrontation with his own mortality and fading virility is set against a national celebration of renewal and style. His youth is something he suddenly realises he no longer possesses, and the episode posits that this realisation is the true beginning of his mid-life crisis.

This preoccupation with youth is not confined to the personal sphere; it is the paramount business challenge at Sterling Cooper. The firm’s struggle to connect with a younger market is articulated with palpable frustration by Duck Phillips, who sees the agency’s inability to sell coffee—a client’s product—as symptomatic of a generational disconnect. His solution is to hire younger creative talent, a move that leads to the brilliantly awkward interview scene where two confident, casually dressed young men unsettle the established order. Simultaneously, Peggy and Salvatore’s campaign for Mohawk Airlines, initially conceived around a titillating, sex-based idea, is shot down by Don in favour of something more family-friendly. This conflict encapsulates the agency’s dilemma: how to harness the energy and sexuality of the emerging youth culture without alienating the traditional, conservative consumer base. The episode suggests there is no easy answer, only the uneasy tension of a world in transition.

The physical manifestation of this brave new world arrives not in the form of hulking Xerox machine. Its placement becomes a minor crisis for Joan, who must find a permanent home for this disruptive marvel. The scene is a superb piece of visual metaphor: the machine represents efficiency, replication, and the future, yet it is an unwieldy, space-invading problem in the meticulously ordered old world of the office. It is change itself, literally dropped onto the floor and demanding accommodation.

Economically, the episode sketches the alterations in the characters’ lives over the missing fifteen months. Peggy has lost weight and carries herself with new authority, though the office rumour mill cruelly speculates that her “three-month sabbatical” was for bearing Don’s child—a vicious lie that highlights the persistent sexism she must navigate. Harry Crane is reconciled with his wife and is having children, embracing a conventional domesticity that others find elusive. Pete and Trudy’s anguish over their childlessness contrasts sharply with this, their frustration bubbling into marital tension. Salvatore Romano, in perhaps the most poignant update, has entered a marriage of convenience with Kitty, actively constructing a heterosexual façade to survive. Joan, meanwhile, has moved on from Roger, announcing she is dating a doctor—a declaration of independence that masks a continued search for security. These updates are delivered not through exposition but through behaviour and allusion, a testament to the show’s nuanced storytelling.

Betty Draper’s arc in this episode is a quiet study in awakening agency and sexuality. Her riding lessons introduce her to Arthur Case (Gabriel Mann), whose younger, admiring gaze offers a thrilling alternative to Don’s neglect. The chance encounter with her old roommate Juanita (Jennifer Siebel), whom she deduces is a call girl, exposes her to a world of transactional female power. Later, when her car breaks down, she instinctively deploys a flirtatious performance for the mechanic to lower the repair bill. Betty is learning, however tentatively, to use her beauty as a currency and to see beyond the gilded cage of suburban motherhood. Her story runs parallel to Don’s, both exploring avenues of escape from the roles they are trapped in.

Artistically, the episode is notable for its evocative use of Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Song of the Indian Guest.” Its exotic, melancholic strains accompany Don’s scenes of alienation, particularly the failed hotel tryst, lending a sense of doomed romanticism and distant yearning that dialogue alone could not convey. More significantly, the episode introduces Frank O’Hara’s 1957 poetry collection Meditations in an Emergency. Don discovers it in the hands of a beatnik in a diner—a figure representing the very anti-establishment youth culture that baffles Sterling Cooper. Told he “wouldn’t like it,” Don’s instinct is to acquire and read it. This moment is critical: it shows Don, however awkwardly, reaching outside his own world to understand the new cultural currents. The book is not just a prop; it becomes a recurring symbol of existential angst and the search for meaning that will haunt Don throughout the season.

For Those Who Think Young is a masterful season premiere that uses its deliberate pace to layer theme upon theme. By jumping to 1962, it instantly immerses us in a period where the future is visibly pressing against the present. The episode functions as a series of case studies in adaptation—and maladaptation—to a world that increasingly worships youth. Don Draper’s personal crisis of ageing mirrors his agency’s professional crisis of relevance, while the supporting characters each grapple with their own forms of societal change. It is a piece of television less concerned with plot propulsion than with psychological and social portraiture, establishing the season’s central concern: what happens when the world starts moving faster than the people in it? The answer, as this episode suggests, is a profound and deeply unsettling dissonance.

RATING: 6/10 (++)

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