But is the award-winning Joker technically an adaptation? After all, part of the character’s intrigue was not knowing his true origins. What’s more, the way Folie à Deux plays out further reinforces the idea that Phillips was happy to use the brand “Joker,” but hellbent on doing his own thing with it.

This got me thinking about the faithfulness of movie adaptations to their source material and whether strict adherence to the original story is crucial for the adaptation’s success. Why do some adaptations transcend their source material while others become cautionary tales? How important is loyalty to the original work? Is the filmmaker’s creative vision the factor that makes an adaptation stand out?

Ubiquity of Adaptations Throughout Pop Culture

Cinematic adaptations of established fictions are not a new phenomenon. In fact, they have been a mainstay in pop culture for decades. The James Bond film franchise, for example, adapts Ian Fleming’s original novels. Similarly, more recent examples include the Sonic the Hedgehog movies, which are influenced by the Sonic video game series released in the 1990s. 

While many adaptations follow their source material closely, Joker remains a rare case. Despite existing within the Batman universe, the film draws more inspiration from other movies, such as Taxi Driver and The King of Comedy, than from its comic book roots.

Adaptations That Missed The Mark

Not all adaptations reach the same creative heights as Joker. Some have been heavily criticized for failing to capture the spirit of the original, why others have suffered from poor execution (see: almost every Netflix anime adaptation).

Just take a look at Borderlands. The 2024 science fiction action comedy film faced intense criticism from the Borderlands fanbase for not capturing the video game’s charm. Heck, it was barely competent enough to entertain those who had never played the game. And then there is the 2007 adaptation of The Golden Compass, which was a very faithful adaptation of Philip Pullman’s novel, but its poor pacing and lack of character depth failed to connect with audiences.

When it comes to adaptations, being slavishly faithful is sometimes just as bad as going off on a creative tangent. It really is quite the fine line.

Importance of Originality in Adaptations

While some adaptations stumble, others succeed by finding a balance between faithfulness and originality. 

Steven Spielberg’s Jurassic Park stayed true to the original premise of Michael Crichton’s novel — a theme park of genetically engineered dinosaurs that descends into chaos – but he wasn’t afraid to change up the story to suit the cinematic medium. Spielberg’s use of groundbreaking special effects and a thrilling story pace, however, helped make the film an iconic piece of cinema.

There’s also 10 Things I Hate About You, which offers a 1990s high school twist on William Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew. The film became a beloved adaptation, thanks to the way the filmmakers found parallels between Shakespeare’s original work and the modern day high school experience.

Balancing Faithfulness and Creativity

Staying faithful to the source leverages the connection fans have for the original source — but leaves the film predictable. Too much creative freedom, though, risks alienating its core audience. 

Alfonso Cuarón’s Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is a good example of achieving that delicate balance. While the first two films closely followed the books, Cuarón brought a distinctive visual identity and a fresh perspective, which resonated with fans and critics alike.

The How To Train Your Dragon movies also found success by taking inspiration from the books but crafting their own stories. The well-developed characters, stunning visuals, and emotional depth endeared audiences and drew praise from the original author as well.

Managing Fan Expectations

Another crucial factor in the success of any adaptation is managing fan expectations. By adapting established source material, creators face the prospect of satisfying fans who expect a direct replication of the original. Different mediums, however, have their own limitations and possibilities. 

Take Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight Trilogy. Nolan’s films grounded Batman in a more realistic world, removing many fantastical elements of the comics. Still, the films succeeded in telling their own story while maintaining the core parts of the Batman character. That shift in medium often requires certain delicate changes, and filmmakers should be allowed to take creative liberties, as long as they respect the essentials of the original source material.

The Future of Adaptations

With the rise of streaming services, we are starting to see more adaptations getting closer to the mark. Amazon Prime has Fallout, while other beloved franchises, such as Percy Jackson, are getting a second chance with consultation from the original author.

HBO’s The Last of Us has also illustrated that audiences are open to adaptations that aren’t strictly one-for-one translations, so long as they remain true to the original premise and message of the source material.

Ultimately, the success of an adaptation involves a delicate balance of understanding the source material and taking creative risks. Whether it’s a faithful recreation, like Peter Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings, or a bolder adaptation, such as Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight Trilogy, the best ones respect their sources while offering a new viewpoint.

As we move forward, both creators and fans should embrace the creative possibilities of stories being made for different mediums. After all, a well-crafted adaptation that respects the themes of the original might even transcend the quality of the source material itself.

Editor’s Note: This article was written with contributions from Hew Hoong Liang.

The post How Adaptations Transcend Their Source Material appeared first on Goggler.

It wasn’t until February, with the release of some creepy posters, did we discover that the film in question was Longlegs, directed by Oz Perkins, and set to be released in July 2024. Prior to these reveals, our knowledge of this film was limited to its basic premise and its cast, which included Maika Monroe and Nicolas Cage.

What followed was a marketing campaign that involved a series of reality-bending puzzles that added a new layer to the horror that was to come. It was instantly captivating, and I was quick to jump on the bandwagon of solving these enigmatic clues.

In June, the campaign escalated with billboards in Los Angeles, urging people to call the number 458.666.4355. When dialed, listeners were greeted by whispered threats from Nicolas Cage’s titular serial killer Longlegs, ominously saying, “There she is! What’s your name, Little Angel? Nice to meet you. Ohh… I’ll be. Waiting.”

The printed promotional efforts extended to The Seattle Times, where a half-page ad with cryptic messages was featured – Zodiac style! – which concludes with the phrase, “Printed at the request of Longlegs.”

And then there was the website, “The Birthday Murders”, which hosted an absolute treasure trove of information. This ’90s-style blog unleashed details about the victims, suspects, and offered five locked, downloadable files that were chock full of easter eggs. You even had to decode the symbols on the filenames in order to get the passwords for you to unlock them.

Inside, there were additional crime scene photos, bible pages, and singing clips, all of which hint at the film’s direction for those who have seen it. The website’s reality-bending nature became evident when, on July 15th, it was updated to reveal that its creator, a follower of Longlegs, called themselves “A friend of a friend.”

The final cherry on top was NEON releasing a recording of Maika Monroe’s heartbeat racing as she meets Nicolas Cage’s Longlegs for the first time. This immediately went viral, convincing us that this would be the scariest film we’ll watch this year. And what do you know? Longlegs opened at the top of the American charts… after Despicable Me 4. 

Now this isn’t the first time a horror marketing campaign has had this kind of success.

When it comes to this subject matter, one must tip their hat to the iconic found-footage film, The Blair Witch Project (1999), which arguably pioneered this sort of approach. Directors Eduardo Sanchez and Daniel Myrick ingeniously wove a web of mystery by distributing leaflets about missing students, sparking rumors in chat forums, and launching an official website brimming with theories, mythology, and student profiles.

They masterfully introduced the local legend known as “The Blair Witch” into the public psyche, while crafting a narrative that the film itself was composed of audio and video tapes found by the police. For a while, these reality-bending actions made the missing students seem real. By the time the film hit theaters, the marketing had already cast its spell. It was made on a modest budget of US$60,000 and raked in a staggering US$248.6 million. Though the original website has been quietly taken offline, you can still access it through this Internet Archive.

Some other marketing strategies have taken a more physical approach, like the one used for The Ring (2002), the American remake of Ringu (1998). The campaign involved leaving VHS tapes of the “cursed video” in random places for people to find. Upon watching, the footage would direct viewers to disturbing websites, each filled with creepy stories from victims of the curse. The tape was also aired without context between late-night TV shows for a month, leaving American audiences baffled and intrigued. 

Another recent campaign was for the movie Smile (2022), a film that uses smiling as a demonic and contagious vessel. To market this, Paramount took a bold approach by planting actors at various live sporting events across America, who would maniacally and disturbingly smile directly at the cameras during half-time.

With Paranormal Activity (2009), the studio decided to break the fourth wall even further. They began by releasing the movie only in limited locations, and director Oren Peli encouraged fans to demand that be shown in their cities via an online campaign. The strategy paid off, and two months later, the film was released worldwide in theaters. 

So why do these campaigns work so well? While marketing for films is ubiquitous, it seems to have a particularly strong grip on audiences when it comes to horror. My speculation is this: there is a peculiar satisfaction in being part of something surreal. Horror, arguably, is rooted in immersion – to truly be terrified requires a fully immersive experience. Therefore, when the marketing consistently draws you into the diegetic world, you gradually start to feel as though you’re part of it too. The idea that you’re living in the same universe as these horror films is absolutely chilling and unsettling. It is in this subtle fusion of reality and fiction that the intended terror truly begins to creep under your skin.

Such innovative tactics obviously sell and are in high demand. They also seem like a win-win situation; with studios making money, and audiences gaining an unprecedented experience. The biggest challenge, however, lies in whether the film lives up to the expectations set by its own marketing. With such engaging campaigns, hopes and stakes are undeniably raised. The film is naturally expected to be good, but if it falls short, the disappointment hits twice as hard. 

Longlegs is currently in cinemas, and opinions have never been more divided. Some viewers agree with the marketing’s claim of it being “the scariest movie of the year,” while others have left disappointed. As someone who was deeply invested in the content from the beginning, even though the movie did not entirely meet my expectations, I still want to give credit to the thoughtful marketing for crafting such an engaging buildup.

Horror films seldom receive the flowers they deserve; the Academy’s neglect of the genre being a well-known fact. Yet, it’s remarkable that these films are building a stronger name for themselves through their clever and exciting marketing. They are efforts that do not go to waste.

Longlegs is now showing in Malaysian cinemas. You can check out our review here.

The post Longlegs and a Brief History of Horror Movie Marketing appeared first on Goggler.

Whatever the euphemism that pops up to describe a period — and there are 5,000 of them, apparently — the historical reason for it is clear. It’s a topic full of shame. While the conversations surrounding it have been shifting since the late 2010s — for maybe most of the world, women’s and girls’ natural menstrual cycle is still a taboo topic. Something to be hidden away and stigmatized, something only discussed with contempt. Or worse, disgust. 

Amanda Nell Eu’s Tiger Stripes resides within that taboo. The story’s catalyst is that Zaffan gets her period, beginning her transformation into a supposed “woman” – or monster, which is one and the same in this film. As much as she tries to hide it, the chaos it brings catches the attention of not only her old friends turned bullies, but also her whole village. Perhaps most ironically, the story of the film mirrors the controversy surrounding the Malaysian cinematic release; only serving to magnify how the metaphor and symbolism in Tiger Stripes isn’t all that different from our everyday reality.

From the beginning, periods are quickly established as something “dirty.” Even the saying Zaffan’s mother uses to describe it “datang kotor,” literally means she’s become dirty. With it, there are changes in her body that she, nor anyone else in her life, can understand. She develops gnarly rashes along her body and grows whiskers. The girls who were once her friends turn into her bullies, calling her “gross,” and “weird,” as well as commenting on her smell — shaming her for the puberty they ignore that they’ll have to go through as well. 

Due to this transformation, there’s a marked change in Zaffan’s character compared to the start of the film. Her vigour and rebelliousness from the beginning of the film are replaced with obedience and quiet. The girl who was once brought on stage for bad behaviour turns into a model student and joins the girl scouts. 

Zaffan makes a point to quite literally censor herself to try and hide from the devious allegations, to cover up her burgeoning woman/monsterhood and maybe rekindle her friendships again. She doesn’t even take off her hijab or gloves (at least until she’s forced to) — there are only hints of her worsening condition revealed when she’s alone. It’s a stark difference from her coming home in her underclothes and taking off her hijab any chance she was given. If she’s that good of a student and young lady, she can’t be “gross” anymore, right? 

But, like any classic case of the Streisand Effect, the more Zaffan hides the monstrous parts of herself, the more it forces even more eyes on her. Even her mother asks her to take off her gloves at home complaining that she’s being silly for wearing them around the house. At the climax of the film, she is cornered in the bathroom and her bullies ask to see the same period that they deemed “disgusting” beforehand. While being tormented and having her privacy violated, Zaffan is filmed by some of the girls, which snowballs into a larger spectacle when the reveal of her transformation triggers mass hysteria. 

The fanfare causes Dr. Rahim, a snake oil exorcist, to visit the school, in an attempt to find the source of the disturbance in their village. This only causes the issue to become more public.  Being a social media star, he films helping some of the girls who are affected (which brings some very questionable implications in his exploitation of their pain) and eventually, he’s brought in to exorcise Zaffan. When she doesn’t take to his demands, he quite harrowingly physically assaults her, mirroring far too real attitudes towards girls and women who don’t obey patriarchal expectations of them. Ultimately, when she accepts her monstrous self — fully turning into a human-tiger hybrid — she’s treated exactly like the tiger seen in a social media video earlier: followed from a distance with a fearful, watchful eye. 

It’s then clear to see how the plot of Tiger Stripes reflects the controversy of its Malaysian theatrical release. Censored to the point of disownment, the missing story provides clear and important building blocks to Zaffan’s character and relatable parts of her girlhood. Eu herself describes the cut scenes as showing “the very joy of being a young girl in Malaysia” in an Instagram post about the censorship. Pulling apart those scenes, implicitly giving them explicit labels, only serves to place the real experiences of young girls as unspeakable, dirty things, and ultimately punishing them for ever doing things like that. 

No coverage was spared about the disownment either. From The Star to Deadline, national and international news publications covered Eu’s statement, bringing to question the levels of censorship needed for a film like this. Cannes Critics Week accolades aside, at what point does an age rating become redundant and where does that place Malaysian cinema if we’re not willing to explore important themes, even if they’re uncomfortable? Ironically enough, the censorship saga mirrors the attitude of Zaffan’s mother within the film, punishing her daughter for walking home without her baju kurung so harshly that it gets the attention of their neighbours. 

Ultimately, in the case of Tiger Stripes, the saying that cinema brings a mirror up to society is true in more ways than one. A girl erring on the edge of womanhood is dangerous and alluring, something people speak about in hushed tones and want to see in secret, but simultaneously condemn in public. In its exploration of the realities of girlhood and taboo through the medium of horror and fantasy, it was butchered, covered up, and then paraded for consumption. When really, all we need to do is just let girls be girls — just like Zaffan dancing at the end, finally carefree and happy – even if she is a monster.

Tiger Stripes is now streaming on Netflix.

The post Tiger Stripes: The Censorship and Spectacle of Girlhood appeared first on Goggler.

Like all auteurs, Flanagan has a recognizable signature style. Known for his lengthy monologues and recurring cast, he also gravitates towards certain themes, visuals, and motifs. Concepts like addiction and intergenerational trauma provide unifying threads across all of his work. Fittingly, like a p(o)erversed version of Disney’s House of Mouse, The Fall of the House of Usher (FOTHOU) is a celebration that brings Flanagan’s favourite people and ideas together under one condemned roof.

It may seem strange to start from what’s lacking when pinpointing Flanagan’s work as an auteur, but a clear lack of jump scares is a prominent aspect of his shows. Flanagan admits to being easily frightened, which is partly why he pursues horror – to exorcise his fears. Understandably, he’s never been keen on jump scares unless they serve a higher function for his narrative and characters. 

Their very scarcity makes the few jump scares present in his stories so effective. Who can forget the heart-failure inducing moment in The Haunting of Hill House when Nell suddenly screams between her sisters as they’re driving? Ironically, for someone so averse to jump scares, Flanagan set a Guinness Book of World Records in The Midnight Club for the highest number of jump scares (twenty-one!) in an episode.

But as the character Spence observes, “That’s not scary. It’s just startling.” This record-setting achievement feels suspiciously like both career strategy and creator sarcasm on Flanagan’s part. He’s spoken of how network executives constantly pressure him to make things scarier. And after years of resistance, Flanagan finally gave them what they wanted, but as parody. Hopefully they’ll leave him alone for a while. 

Now none of this means that Flanagan’s shows aren’t genuinely scary.

Let’s talk for a second about his penchant for gruesome hand injuries. In Doctor Sleep, the murderous Rose the Hat’s hand is mangled by a filing cabinet during a psychic battle against Abra Stone. In The Midnight Club, when Spence slices his hand open with a paper guillotine, it ignites a passionate defence for people with AIDS. And the hand injury par excellence is that insane degloving scene from Gerald’s Game.

There are plenty of visual callbacks to previous projects sprinkled throughout Flanagan’s shows. I particularly enjoyed the nod to Gerald’s Game in FOTHOU, when Carla Gugino’s character Verna appears with her arms spread casually over a bedpost. This recalls Jessie Burlingame, also played by Gugino, who was handcuffed to a bed in Gerald’s Game.

Another cool Easter egg is the recurring Lasser Glass, the cursed mirror from Oculus, one of Flanagan’s earliest films. The mirror hangs ominously in the Brightcliffe basement in The Midnight Club. It watches in silent judgement as Nell dances in The Haunting of Hill House. Its wooden frame forms the ornate bedpost that Jessie is chained to in Gerald’s Game. In my head canon, the Lasser Glass’s reality-warping powers explains its eerie, constant presence throughout the Flanaverse.

Thematically, Mike Flanagan has also explored memory loss across his projects. In The Midnight Club, Amesh awaits helplessly as his brain tumour steals his memories. In Midnight Mass, Monsignor Pruitt’s severe dementia causes him to mistake and embrace the creature he finds in a Jerusalem cave as an angel of the Lord. The Haunting of Bly Manor presents Flanagan’s most profound examination of memory loss by converging the show’s haunting with dementia, and time’s cruel erasure of one’s identity. 

This is perhaps why storytellers are so prominent throughout Flanagan’s works. From Jamie telling a wedding party her tale of Bly Manor, to Roderick Usher confessing his life story, storytellers structure many of Flanagan’s narratives. As Olivia Crain reflects, “we’re all just stories.” Telling our stories is one way of reclaiming our lives from oblivion. Flanagan, a masterful storyteller himself, continues gifting us with beautiful and haunting stories.  

In The Haunting of Bly Manor, Miles receives a letter telling him to come home. Nell finds a message on a wall in Hill House greeting her “welcome home.” For long-time fans, watching a new Mike Flanagan film or series – full of Easter eggs, familiar ideas, and the growing family of performers called the Flanafam – evokes the same pleasures of coming home.

You can experience a lot of Mike Flanagan’s work on Netflix. We’d recommend that beginners start with The Haunting of Hill House.

The post A Mash Note to the Genius of Mike Flanagan appeared first on Goggler.

The show peaked in its early seasons. The anthology covered everything from embodied AI to virtual reality and reality tv. I’m partial to those episodes that explored questions of surveillance. How can cameras be weaponized as instruments of control? What creative ways might individuals, governments, and corporations repurpose surveillance for profit and perverse pleasures? What are the ramifications when one’s image is captured and broadcasted on every screen? 

I Bet You Can Squeal Like a Pig

These themes were raised in the pilot episode “The National Anthem.” When the UK’s beloved princess is abducted, the kidnapper threatens to kill her unless Prime Minister Callow has sex with a pig, live on national TV. The PM naturally refuses, but the public, palace, and party pressure him into compliance. The broadcast featuring him and the pig become the most globally watched programme in history. 

Most Black Mirror fans have a love-hate relationship with “The National Anthem” due to its gross-out factor. Yet the episode presents an enduringly powerful take on spectacle and schadenfreude. Although the British public is encouraged to turn off their televisions to show national solidarity with the PM, everyone enthusiastically watches him commit bestiality.

Debating the PM’s predicament, one media pundit says, “We love humiliation. We can’t not laugh.” Another describes it as an “…entirely new form of terrorism.” The episode confronts how the act of watching might be weaponized to capture and create shame. Would we, as viewers, exercise our moral responsibility by avoiding spectacles that hurt others? Or would we, too, take punitive pleasure in watching authority figures being humiliated, heedless of their personal suffering? 

The Happiest Place on Earth

The brilliant season two episode “White Bear” further supercharges the theme of surveillance, spectacle, and schadenfreude. A young woman, Victoria Skillane, awakens with no memories. She is soon chased through the streets by a masked gunman. She screams for help, but in a nightmarish twist, the people she passes use their smartphones to record her instead. 

Skillane soon discovers that she is a criminal who recorded her boyfriend killing a child for their pleasure. The judge created a punishment fitting her crime as an enthusiastic spectator of pain. Skillane was sentenced to the White Bear Justice Park, an enormous prison/amusement park built solely for psychologically torturing her. Every day, paying visitors happily participate in witnessing Skillane being terrorized.

In “White Bear,” spectacle contains punitive, pleasure, and profit principles. Skillane is transformed into an abject object of spectacle, and the park creates a festive carnival atmosphere of a modern, highly mediated witch-hunt. The park’s host, Baxter, constantly reinforces the performative nature of Skillane’s suffering. He reminds the audience that their role is to enjoy themselves and take lots of photos. 

“White Bear” is wonderfully multi-layered and provocative. Skillane’s hyper-visibility is ethically problematic. What are the implications and complications for justice when Skillane’s punishment involves actively encouraging the public to replicate her crime of voyeurism? As a self-contained surveillance state, the justice park operates on and monetizes schadenfreude by amplifying visitors’ bloodlust to witness a criminal being punished. 

Although she is guilty, watching Skillane flee the gunman while being filmed by dozens of people remains among the most chilling moments of Black Mirror for me. This scene captures the bystander effect, a social psychological theory where people are less likely to help someone when others are present. Today, it’s sadly too easy to imagine bystanders choosing to film a crisis with their smartphones instead of helping.

I Saw a Werewolf With a Chinese Menu in His Hand

The sixth season episode “Mazey Day” attempts to refresh these themes with an unusual spin. In it, Hollywood photojournalist Bo hunts for Mazey Day, a reclusive actress. The episode tackles toxic celebrity culture and the paparazzi’s predatory pursuit of celebrities. Yet the roles are reversed when Mazey Day bites back. Later, the actress urges Bo to “shoot me.” Although she also has a gun, Bo chooses her camera, symbolically cementing the violence of spectacularisation.

With its weird werewolf inclusion, Mazey Day experimentally steers Black Mirror into Twilight Zone territory. The show still manages to comment on our tortured fascination with technology and surveillance. Yet Black Mirror was superior when it had a pig and a white bear. 

All seasons of Black Mirror are now streaming on Netflix. You can listen to our review of Season 6 here.

The post Black Mirror’s Best Was When It Tackled Surveillance and Spectacle appeared first on Goggler.

Netflix are usually very good at this sort of thing. Which is why we were utterly baffled by their slipshod effort at promoting one of their biggest releases here in Malaysia. Everything about their #PuduExtraction campaign just screams “third world,” from a tone deaf social media prank, to a poorly conceived and badly written video, to a release schedule that seems completely unconcerned with riding on any pre-release hype that Extraction 2 might have had.

So What Exactly Is #PuduExtraction?

The campaign is pretty much centered around a video that stars Aaron Aziz, Fify Azmi, and Iedil Dzuhrie. The concept of which is almost painfully unclever. Iedil has apparently been kidnapped by some nameless bad guys and it’s up to Aaron and Fify to “extract” him from his predicament. It’s simplistic to the point of being insulting. It is the kind of thing that is steeped in disdain for its audience and contrived to cater to the lowest common denominator.

What’s worse, they decided to launch the video with a social media campaign which implied that Iedil had gone missing.

Iedil Is Missing!

So on Sunday, June 18, Iedil’s followers on Instagram were presented with a post (which has since been taken down) that read:

“URGENT! HAVE YOU SEEN IEDIL? We haven’t heard from him since the Netflix event dekat Manila haritu. We’re wondering what happened to him sebab dah try to reach out to him personally but no answer. If you guys know or tahu Iedil ada dekat mana, please let us know via dm ”

Needless to say, the Internet didn’t react well. A few of his followers found it funny, some were confused, others were angry, the media thought it was real, and Netflix scrambled to release a poorly worded statement (as reported here by Astro Awani) clarifying that it was all just part of a harmless marketing stunt. Killing the hype before it had even begun.

Now there are plenty of reasons why this was a stupid idea. There is the implication that Manila is somehow so unsafe that celebrities who were there to attend an international movie premiere are at risk of being kidnapped. There is the terrible timing of running this just days after a man was shot and killed by unknown assailants in Bandar Sunway. But mostly, it just felt half baked. It’s as if no one spent any time at all thinking about the implications of such a prank and how best to manage it.

If you’re going to pull something like this off, then the execution has to be a lot smarter and a lot subtler. God knows the best place to start would be to ask Iedil and his wife to not post Instagram stories where the both of them are enjoying a delicious steak dinner together and clearly having a good time. If you’re going to pull something like this off, then you need to be brave enough to commit.

But Wait, Where’s the Damn Video?

Now after such a colossal cock-up, you would think that Netflix would want to release said video as soon as humanly possible. You’ve already been forced to undermine your own campaign with an apology, surely the easiest way to distract people would be to show them the “cool thing” that you’ve made? But nope. There’s nothing for days. Not until 9PM on a Wednesday. Now there may be a strategy there, but it isn’t one that makes a lot of sense to us.

Why bother releasing a promotional video almost a week after the actual movie has dropped on Netflix? The best time to do this would be in the lead up to the actual release of Extraction 2. Before the middling reviews. Before everyone moves on to Secret Invasion. And before Netflix themselves have to start promoting their next big thing that’s likely dropping the following Friday.

But hey, better late than never, right? Wrong.

The #PuduExtraction Video

In an ideal situation, the best counter to bad publicity would be if the aforementioned video turned out to be fucking fantastic. It is not. See for yourself.

Here are just some of the problems we had with it:

1. It’s just too damn long. The video, which runs for 3 minutes and 35 seconds, is interminably dull. There is no tension. It is devoid of charm or creativity. Absolutely no effort has been made to homage or emulate the thing they are supposed to be promoting. Where’s the ambition? Why didn’t they try to shoot a 90 second oner in honour of what Extraction is?

2. Surely they could have done better than use disjointed phone video footage that Chris Hemsworth and Sam Hargrave clearly shot from their hotel rooms while on tour in Manila. This just looks and feels cheap.

3. Why are they asking “Chris Hemsworth” for tips on how to do an extraction and not “Tyler Rake?”

4. It’s bad enough that the dialogue was hastily cobbled together, but why is Aaron Aziz delivering all his lines like he just learned how to speak? (“This is KL!” What is? Why is every line so disconnected from the last? Was this written by a nine-year-old?)

5. While we’re here, whose bright idea was it to have Aaron Aziz do his best Hishamuddin Hussein impression?

6. Why is the YouTube video called “Misi Penyelamat #PuduExtraction Bersejarah?” Why shoehorn lines about the history of Pudu Jail and then do absolutely nothing with it? Who cares if no one has escaped from Pudu Jail in the past? It doesn’t exist any more. There is no jail. It’s just a farce of a facade. It demonstrates such a lack of social awareness that it’s a textbook example of a harebrained concept.

7. Why are these guys just hanging around on the sidelines and waiting to attack? Did they think they were off camera?

8. Hold up. Why is Chris Hemsworth still wearing the same clothes from three days earlier? He’s a bona fide movie star. He must own at least one other shirt.

So What the Hell Happened?

We don’t believe that we’re the only ones who have come to expect more from Netflix. Their own success at these things means they get held to a higher standard. These are, after all, the same people who projected the Upside Down on Menara Kuala Lumpur and did a Stranger Things takeover of Chinatown. They are the ones who held a Money Heist: Korea activation at the abandoned North Korean embassy in Damansara Heights. It was smart. It had its finger on the pulse. It might even have gone some way to make an otherwise mediocre TV show cool.

So what the hell happened here? We get that Malaysia is just a tiny, secondary market. But surely we deserve better than whatever this is.

Extraction 2 is now streaming on Netflix. You can listen to our full review of the movie here. #PuduExtraction is unfortunately all over social media like a bad rash.

The post Extraction 2: Why Does Netflix’s #PuduExtraction Feel So Half-Baked? appeared first on Goggler.

When I first heard about A Small Light, I felt both optimism and trepidation. Miep is personally one of my historical heroes, and she deserves recognition. I worried, however, that the mini-series would succumb to the temptation of sacrificing historical veracity for television drama. Watching A Small Light as someone fairly knowledgeable about Anne Frank and Miep Gies was an interesting exercise in extracting established truth from acceptable embellishments and blatant fictionalisation. 

Established Truth?

The first thing I noticed was the representation of Anne Frank herself. Past films tend to make Anne the central focus, which deifies her status further. Refreshingly, A Small Light makes Anne’s presence peripheral. This allows an alternative and adult perspective. By focusing on Miep’s broader interactions and relationships, other individuals can shine – and speak. 

For example, in past depictions, Edith Frank is either marginalised or maligned, as Anne often wrote angrily about her mother. Here she is revitalised with humour and humanity by Amira Casar’s dignified performance. Miep and Edith form a tender bond as women supporting each other through unimaginable hardships.  

In her memoir, Miep wrote of her suspicion about Edith’s depression. A Small Light, with haunting grace, depicts how prolonged isolation can erode a person’s mental state. While it was particularly disturbing to see Edith spiral into crushing depression, viewers would surely find this relatable after years of pandemic lockdowns.

Acceptable Embellishments?

While Edith benefits from ample screentime, I found it disappointing that so little attention was accorded to Bep, Kleiman, and Kugler, the other helpers who hid the Franks. Their contributions were no less important than Miep’s. Yet by virtually ignoring them to focus almost exclusively on Miep and Jan, A Small Light does a disservice to these brave people. And so, when Kleiman and Kugler are arrested along with their friends in the penultimate episode, “What Can Be Saved,” the emotional tension is underwhelming since viewers never really get to know them properly. 

While Miep’s real friends are minimised, she is given an entirely fictional best friend. The character Tess, played delightfully by Eleanor Tomlinson, represents the ordinary people who willingly turned a blind eye to the injustice around them. While Miep is guided by an unwavering moral compass, Tess chooses comfort and compliance when her boyfriend joins the Dutch Nazi party. In Episode 4, “The Butterfly,” their friendship is explosively transformed when Miep urges her friend to choose a side. Tess argues rather reasonably that nothing she does will change the war’s outcome. Understanding that the personal and political are intertwined, Miep sadly reminds Tess that after the war ends, they must live with their choices. 

The largest creative liberties the mini-series takes concern Miep’s husband, Jan. In her memoir, Miep regrets not pressing Jan to share more about his work with the Dutch Resistance. After his death, Jan’s courageous contributions have passed into obscurity. A Small Light rightly chooses to illuminate Jan’s efforts. The mini-series filled the gaps with fictionalised accounts of Jan rescuing abandoned Jewish babies and assisting fugitives in escaping the Nazi dragnets. These fictional scenes are actually plausible, so I had little trouble believing that the real Jan did similar things. 

Blatant Fictionalisation?

What I did take issue with, however, were instances when the mini-series disregarded established facts. The most peculiar was Miep ice-skating at Tess’s Nazi soiree. While the beautiful scene represents a rare moment of freedom for Miep, its inclusion is inexplicable, as Miep states in her memoir that the one aspect of Dutch life she hates is ice-skating. 

Although this is a minor fabrication, it casts shadows of doubt on the mini-series’ commitment to accuracy. As A Small Light is not a documentary, it is not entirely bound to historical reality. Yet in an age of misinformation, to what extent can history be dramatised until historical fiction becomes fictional history? 

Still, A Small Light tells Miep’s life with restraint and respect, and this story of ordinary people helping others in dark times is especially important now that war in Europe is once again a reality.

A Small Light is now streaming on Disney Plus Hotstar.

The post A Small Light: Historical Fiction or Fictional History? appeared first on Goggler.

But before we get into just why that is, a quick primer on how it all works.

How It Works

Getting started is easy. You download the app (it’s available for iOS, Android, and Steam), launch it, fill in the usual details, and you’re good to go. You start with a premade deck and a selection of cards. All of them are characters from Marvel comics, each one has a casting cost and a corresponding power, and they may have special abilities to boot. Every game has six turns, and each game lasts between four to five minutes. You use the energy that you’re allocated at the beginning of every turn (you start with one and end with six) to cast cards and you play them on one of three random locations. Each location holds up to four cards and, like the individual cards themselves, have their own distinct effects. (Kamar-Taj, for example, doubles your card’s “On Reveal” effects. Murderworld destroys all cards played there after turn three. Or you might end up with Doctor Strange’s Sanctum Sanctorum which doesn’t allow you to play any cards on it.)

The objective of the game isn’t to hit your opponent or to destroy cards (though the latter can be used as a winning strategy), but rather to outscore the opponent in two out of three of the board’s locations.

What’s more, as the name of the game implies, you can also “Snap” by tapping the Cosmic Cube at the top of the screen. “Snapping” allows you to multiply the number of points you get whenever you win a game. These points unlock rankings, giving you power-ups, and tokens, and credits, and gold, which of course allow you to get new cards and upgrade your existing ones.

Get it? Got it? Good!

The Silver Couch Surfer

There are many layers to Marvel Snap’s genius. Almost every element of the game has been fine tuned to trigger different parts of our gaming brain. The competitor in you is going to want to keep beating random strangers on the Internet. The collector in you is going to want to keep playing in oder to accumulate those cards. And the casual gamer in you is thrilled at the notion of being able to do all of it in short, efficient bursts. It really is the pinnacle of instant gratification. A quick game can result in immense satisfaction. And even a loss means that a turn around is a mere five minutes away.

What’s more, everything happens in real time so it’s always your turn. You’re never sitting there waiting around for your opponent to play their cards. There is a real momentum to the game which means you’re never idle and never bored.

You can play it as a distraction when you’re on the crapper, or while you’re waiting for the pasta to cook. Or you can binge it, playing game after game, for hours on end. Marvel Snap really is as simple or as complex as you make it out to be. You will have just as much fun if all you’re doing is checking in ever so often, and playing your more than capable starter deck, as you would if you were poring over every card in an attempt to construct exciting new decks.

Because it doesn’t matter if you have super exclusive cards or how powerful you think your deck is, the three random locations that appear every round are the ultimate equalizer. Each one has the power to throw even the most experienced player for a loop, drastically changing the outcome of every game.

These locations truly level the playing field. God knows I’ve played games with some of my most basic decks and won only because the special feature of a specific location worked in my favour. You can’t buy your way into victory in such circumstances. But you can most definitely strategize a win. It’s that wonderful unpredictability makes Marvel Snap the most egalitarian of the collectible card games. It rewards you for dipping in and out and playing a little every day. It prioritizes a slow and steady path towards victory instead of incentivizing you to spend your money.

Zabu, No, Bad Kitty

The most cunning aspect of Marvel Snap, however, and the reason why it’s Disney’s most valuable asset, lies in the way it utilizes these characters. Sure you can play Captain America, and Spider-Man, and the Incredible Hulk, but the game also includes characters so obscure that even diehard comic book fans have never heard of them.

Every card is also reflective of that character’s personality and skills in both the MCU and the comics. Captain America, for example, boosts the stats of the other cards at his location because he is an inspiration. Wolverine gets randomly played at another location whenever he’s destroyed because you can never kill the Wolverine. And Captain Marvel will move to a location that will win you the game because she’s Captain Marvel dammit.

This game is a celebration of the heroes, the villains, and the worlds contained within the Marvel Universe. It places them within the palm of your hands, challenges you to manipulate them in fascinating ways, and allows you to play superhero in a fun new way. This game does more to introduce the public to the vastness of Marvel’s extensive back catalogue than any movie, television show, or comic book ever could. It will get you curious about Hell Cow, and Giganto, and Leech. It might make you seek out comics with Sword Master, or Moon Girl, or Aero.

Marvel Snap is a clever, clever game. But its real power lies in how it exploits the world’s largest library of characters, stories, and ideas, making it the ultimate gateway drug into the Marvel Universe. This one will have Disney laughing all the way to the bank.

Marvel Snap is available to play on iOS, Android, and Steam.

The post Marvel Snap Is Genius and Disney’s Most Cunning Asset Right Now appeared first on Goggler.

It is a real dilemma that has pushed consumers in one of two directions.

1) The more ethical among them cycle through a variety of streamers, subscribing to one service when they want to watch something in particular, before switching over to another one when the next billing cycle begins.

2) Piracy. Between torrents and cheap Android boxes, it is still incredibly easy to access pirated content. We have definitely seen an increase in piracy among Malaysian consumers since the pandemic. A poor exchange rate, combined with fear of an economic recession, have made Malaysians a lot more discerning with how they spend their money. They still want their entertainment, but they’re also perfectly happy to not pay for it. Direct to digital movies and shorter theatrical windows also means easier access to high quality pirated content.

One recent solution has been to bring back some old ideas. It looks like the disruptor didn’t end up disrupting all that much, with cable and satellite TV providers suddenly back in the game as streaming service aggregators. Sure some things have changed – we can watch on-demand and cancel with ease, programming is global, and we don’t have to watch ads if we don’t want to – but it is ironic that the dreaded cable bundle lives on.

Another solution has been to focus on growth markets like us. With subscribers in the United States in decline, streamers have started looking to our part of the world in order to make up lost numbers. They’re broadening their content acquisition strategy. They’re investing in local talent and programming. (Prime Video has had some success with this in India.) They’re hoping to catch that Korean wave.

Which brings us to Disney Plus Hotstar and why we think they might be the streamer to watch in 2023. (Just to be clear, we mean “watch” as both a growing platform and one with content that we’re looking forward to.)

What Sort of Subscriber Are You?

But first, a simplistic (but accurate) take on which service appeals to which consumer. Netflix is for those who want a little bit of everything. Apple TV Plus is for the discerning viewer who is looking for quality content. Ditto with HBO. You pay for Viu if you enjoy K-dramas. Prime Video and BBC Player appeal to niche tastes. And then there are the nine or so people who actually signed up for Lionsgate Play.

The general consensus is that you subscribed to Disney Plus Hotstar if you were a parent looking for family friendly fare, or a fanboy/fangirl of Marvel, Star Wars, or Pixar. It is a perception that Disney is looking to change.

Back in November, we had the opportunity to attend Disney’s Content Showcase in Singapore where we were completely and utterly overwhelmed by a barrage of announcements regarding (almost) every new piece of content they were rolling out. There was Marvel stuff, and Star Wars stuff, and Pixar stuff, and Avatar stuff. There was even Indiana Jones stuff. The most exciting news, however, was all the stuff that wasn’t Marvel, or Star Wars, or Avatar, or Indiana Jones.

The Indonesian, Japanese, and Korean originals that were bolstering Disney’s content lineup looked fresh and interesting. From a Japanese psycho-thriller about cannibals and some great new anime titles, to a whole slew of K-pop documentaries, to Indonesian remakes of Doctor Foster and Call My Agent, to legendary director Takashi Miike’s first foray into television.

Now what Disney is doing isn’t novel. Netflix and Viu have used local and regional content as a way to entice subscribers for a long time. We have no idea whether or not it’s worked for them, but what Disney can do is learn from their missteps.

Some Recommendations

Be smart about Korean content. The runaway success of Squid Game has everyone and their uncle looking to Korean content as a sort of panacea. The problem, however, is that they seem to be learning the wrong lessons. Squid Game was huge in the way that Game of Thrones was huge. Yes, it brought in a whole new audience, but it didn’t necessarily mean that they were going to stick around. Game of Thrones fans didn’t suddenly become fantasy fiction fans. Squid Game fans weren’t suddenly born again as K-drama fans.

Quality over quantity. To that end, Netflix’s strategy has simply been to acquire as much Korean content as they can. There seems to be little to no quality control (See: Carter, Seoul Vibe, Money Heist: Korea, etc.), just the blind hope that some of it might stick. For now, Disney seems to be taking a leaf from Apple TV Plus by not allowing the algorithm and their marketing departments to lead the way. It feels like there is a human hand at work here, actually curating this content based on judgement and good taste as opposed to just what’s trending.

Avoid the content churn. While there is already a large amount of content churn with Disney and their numerous IPs, they have nevertheless managed to maintain a certain quality with their output. (See: The Mighty Ducks: Game Changers, Doogie Kamealoha, M.D., Monsters at Work, etc. National Treasure: Edge of History is a rare misstep that is genuinely awful.) There is however a risk in thinking that consumers want more bang for their buck, and that means churning out more content. We don’t want more. We just want better. Give audiences better.

Think local. But actually think about it. The same logic applies to local originals. Disney shouldn’t invest in Malaysian content for the sake of it. There is an opportunity here for Disney to stand out by championing new and interesting work that is fun, clever, even challenging. (Ada Hantu was a very good acquisition. J2: J Retribusi was not. And the less said about Zombitopia the better.) God knows we don’t want to pay a subscription to watch the same garbage that’s been shoved down our throats on terrestrial networks for decades. Netflix, for example, doesn’t practice any judgement whatsoever when acquiring local TV and movies, making them nothing more than a dumping ground for middling content. The term “Netflix Original” used to carry with it a certain expectation of quality. Not any more. It’s a blunder that Disney would do well to avoid.

Promote. Promote. Promote. Disney Plus Hotstar need an actual strategy with regards to announcing their releases. (It’s a good start to just announce them in general!) Critically acclaimed and globally celebrated content like The Bear, The Menu, and The Banshees of Inisherin all appeared on Disney Plus Hotstar without a peep. Mere awareness that they carry these titles will go a long way to changing the perception that the service just caters to families and fanboys/fangirls.

Some Predictions

Unifying the brand. We don’t know when it’ll happen, but we’re pretty sure that it’s just a matter of time before Disney begins to consolidate its brands under one banner. They recently rolled out a single login system across all of their online services, so logic dictates that they should also ditch the “Hotstar” and use the “Disney Plus” brand globally. Here in Malaysia, we can only hope that it means we get the actual high end app and not this third world substitute that we’ve been saddled with.

Streamlining access. At the moment, the offerings on Disney Plus Hotstar are something of a hodgepodge of content from Disney and Hulu, with a little bit of Twentieth Century Studios and Media Prima thrown in for good measure. We’re still not sure how they decide which Hulu Originals and FX shows make it to our shores, but we think that unifying the brand will result in a more predictable and reliable release schedule.

Why Is Disney Plus Hotstar the Streamer to Watch in 2023?

Netflix’s new ideas seem to be limited to introducing ad tiers and cracking down on password sharing. We’re not sure what new form HBO Max is going to take. Apple TV Plus is bolstering their winning formula with the addition of sport. And Prime Video seems to be split between being all in on The Lord of the Rings and targeting middle America with shows like Jack Ryan, The Terminal List, and Reacher.

We think that Disney Plus Hotstar is the streamer to watch for 2023 because we’re excited at the prospect of a 100 year old company that’s trying to be more nimble, that’s not averse to experimenting, and that’s seemingly learning from previous mistakes and adopting best practices in order to move forward.

The world of streaming is still very much the Wild West. William Goldman continues to be right. Even here, “nobody knows anything.” It’s all about taking chances and making educated guesses. And we’ll be curious to see how Disney’s choices pay off.

The post Disney Plus Hotstar Is the Streamer to Watch in 2023 appeared first on Goggler.

She asked me if I was there to watch Mat Kilau? She said it in a tone that implied I was somehow in the wrong hall. I simply smiled and said “yes.” About thirty seconds later, she leaned over again and said, rather apologetically: “Minta maaf ye, tapi you India kan? Kenapa you suka tengok movie macam ‘ni?”

I told her that I had heard interesting things about it and that I was curious as to why the movie was doing so well at the box office. She told me that everyone she knew had recommended it as a must watch and so she dragged her husband and extended family out to this screening. She then went on to spend most of the movie actively engaging with everything that was happening on screen, her whoops and cheers punctuated with the occasional “Allahu Akbar!”

It was a fascinating exchange. And one that speaks volumes. I’m still unsure if she just found it impossible to fathom that an Indian person would be at all interested in watching this movie, or if she was anxious because I had somehow stumbled upon their little secret.

Courting the Malay Vote

Here’s what you need to know about Mat Kilau. It is, to date, the highest grossing Malaysian movie of all time, collecting over RM96 million in just 40 days. Now, a movie makes this much money in one of two ways. Either people go back to watch it multiple times, or it successfully brings in new audiences who wouldn’t ordinarily watch movies on the big screen. In the case of Mat Kilau, I believe it’s both.

So what was it about this particular movie that got Malay folk (and it was solely Malay folk) so excited and invested? Why did it speak to them on such a visceral level? And does it in any way explain why PAS ended up being the single party with the most parliamentary seats in GE15?

Movies and popular culture have always been a great reflection of public sentiment. They may not always influence it, but the ones that connect best with audiences often hold up a mirror to it. The success of Mat Kilau at the Malaysian box office was undoubtedly an early indicator of the outcome of this recent general election. Back in July, when we reviewed the movie on The Goggler Podcast, we made the mistake of thinking that it would be UMNO who would weaponize it come election season. Turns out, it was PAS and PN that ended up being its biggest beneficiaries.

We know that GE14 saw a split in the Malay vote, and ever since then, political parties have been scrambling to recapture that lost support. Now there are three key messages in Mat Kilau and all of them seem to channel the same rhetoric that we heard throughout this election campaign.

Killer Key Messaging

The first is that Malay disunity is responsible for the colonization of the race by outside forces. The “bad guys” in Mat Kilau are ostensibly the British, but the movie uses some pretty potent imagery to push through its agenda. Throughout the movie, Mat Kilau and his followers only ever fight and kill Sikh soldiers, who are portrayed as being unquestioning lackeys of the British, and the vicious enforcers of their will against the Malay people. The only Chinese character we see in the movie is a weaselly sniveling turncoat who will sell his services to the highest bidder. They are dangerously misleading stereotypes – the Chinese being unscrupulous, the Sikhs/Indians willing to blindly serve any master – that reinforce long held notions of “the other” and their role in the oppression of the Malay people.

And then there were the chants of “hidup Melayu” and “demi bangsa dan agama” that were scattered throughout the movie. It is an age old cry that has pervaded our political discourse since the formation of the country and Mat Kilau uses it as a justification. The movie makes the point – quite frequently and rather unsubtly – that fighting for your race and your religion is the highest calling, even over family, and especially over king and country.

Which brings us to the third and most subversive message in the movie. Following a badly choreographed final battle, Mat Kilau utters these final words:

He proclaims that it isn’t culture, or customs, or Sultans, that will save the Malay race, but rather their faith and adherence to the teachings of Islam. That is their true north. For it is only within Allah that they will find nobility and strength. It’s a bold proclamation (if somewhat treasonous) and one that cunningly conflates religion with Malay nationalism.

These were sentiments already at the forefront of voters minds following GE14 when false claims of Malays being sidelined by their own government began gathering steam. These were sentiments that fed into the core campaign strategy employed by PAS and PN throughout GE15. On social media and in ceramahs throughout the country, there was an underlying message of Malays needing to “reclaim” this country from “external” influences. They used Mat Kilau as an example of Malays rising up and fighting against forces seeking to enslave them in their own land. (See: TikTok)

Primed for Propaganda

Now it is important to note that Mat Kilau did not create or cause the current sentiment – its filmmakers are neither skilled enough nor smart enough to pull off something like that. (Syamsul Yusof is no Leni Riefenstahl!) Instead, it bolstered what was already there. It channeled the prevailing sense of Malay disenfranchisement following the last election and broadcast it on big screens all across the country. It reinforced a misplaced sense of depravation through emotional manipulation and a false historical narrative.

In an ideal world, the falsehoods, disinformation, and dangerous stereotypes put forward by this movie would have been called out and criticized in public discourse. Instead, we had politicians exploiting its imagery to shore up their own divisive messaging. Which was when Mat Kilau, a terrible movie with very little cinematic value, suddenly became incredibly dangerous propaganda.

The post Mat Kilau and Why PAS Was the Biggest Winner of GE15 appeared first on Goggler.