Sneha Jaiswal's Blog, page 24

‘Good Boy’ Episode 7 Review: Joo-Yeong Bleeds, Dong-ju Breaks

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“When I had the chance, I should’ve beaten you to death.” Dong-ju (Park Bo-Gum) confronts senior customs officer Min Joo-Yeong (Oh Jung-se), the primary antagonist of ‘Good Boy’, once again. But this time around, Dong-ju doesn’t hold back his punches and has vengeance in his eyes. Things get serious, scary, and dramatic.

Recap of ‘Good Boy’ Episode 6: The resourceful Dong-ju recovers a burner phone discarded by Min Joo-Yeong, which could hold clues to his criminal network. Meanwhile, the “Drug Demon” (Lee Ho-jung) remains under surveillance at a police safe house. She cleverly tips them off about the “Drug Demon’s” location, actually the hideout of thugs faking her popular drug-candies, buying herself time to plan an escape. In a twist, Ko Man-Sik’s (Oh Jung-se) daughter is also placed in the same safe house, putting her at risk since the real “Drug Demon” is right there.

Tension spikes when the cops begin to suspect the woman in their custody might be the notorious drug boss and could harm Man-Sik’s daughter. But the episode’s biggest shock comes when Joo-Yeong shoots Jung Mi-ja (Seo Jung-yeon), Lee Gyeong-il’s mother and a maternal figure to Dong-ju. The episode ends at the shipyard, where Dong-ju walks up to a smug Joo-Yeong and lands a punch that would knock most people out cold.

Titled “Par Terre Par Terre” (a wrestling term), episode seven of Good Boy begins with a scene of Min Joo-Yeong overseeing a gold-smuggling operation and brutally murdering two people. Then, viewers finally see the aftermath of that violent cliffhanger, where Dong-ju attacks Joo-Yeong on a rain-soaked night. For a second, some might wonder if he’s only dreaming his revenge, but no, the cop really does go over and beats the living daylights out of the evil Joo-Yeong, who gleefully admits to shooting Jung Mi-ja. A brutal counterpunch aimed straight at Dong-ju’s heart.

Now both Joo-Yeong and Mi-ja are in the hospital, neither dead yet. So, this edition of ‘Good Boy’ largely follows the consequences of Dong-ju’s reckless decision to hit the customs officer in public. The special team faces the possibility of being disbanded, but team leader Ko Man-Sik (Heo Sung-tae) is determined to save Dong-ju from severe repercussions. In-fact, the entire team – crush Han-na (Kim So-hyun), Jong-hyeon (Lee Sang-yi), and Jae-Hong (Tae Won-Seok) – are united in their support for Dong-ju and their mission to expose Joo-Yeong’s connection to the mafia. So, they scramble to work harder and gather evidence against him, before the team is made to call it quits.

As far as the tension over the investigation is concerned, nothing new is offered to the viewers, although the cops do find some new insights to help them push the case forward. The pace of this episode is slow, and the constant confrontations between Dong-ju and the malevolent Joo-Yeong are beginning to feel tiring at this juncture. Given that there are nine more episodes to go (Good Boy is a 16 episode show, in-case you forgot), I am not sure how the writers are going to keep up the tension and excitement in the story. Even the constant bullying of Man-Sik by the corrupt police commissioner is painfully humiliating and also unnecessarily so.

There is some mild progress in the romantic subplot of ‘Good Boy‘, with things moving in a positive direction between Han-na and Dong-ju. The onscreen chemistry between the characters falls somewhere between “cute” and “cold.” Viewers looking forward to romance will be thrilled that the couple moves forward toward the end of the episode – there’s a nice romantic scene, although it’s weirdly timed.

Overall, this episode of ‘Good Boy’ is choppily paced and grim, largely driven by Park Bo-gum’s emotional punches and Oh Jung-se’s increasingly malicious portrayal of primary antagonist Joo-Yeong. Oh Jung-se is so good at playing the bad boy to Bo-gum’s “Good Boy,” it’s easy to imagine him playing an evil entity in a horror movie or a zombie apocalypse film.

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We Were Liars Review: We Were Gratingly One-Dimensional

Rating: 1.5 out of 5.

Sneha Jaiswal (Twitter | Instagram)

Some writers unwittingly makes their main character (MC) so much more unlikable than other supporting characters, even when terrible tragedies befall upon them, instead of feeling sorry for the MC, you feel sorry for yourself, for enduring the story. “We Were Liars” falls under that category, which gave me a headache, and was largely unbearable. Although, to be fair, some of the actors were really great in their parts, and I will expand upon it later. But that still doesn’t made this show from being mostly unbearable for me.

Based on a book by E. Lockhart, the Prime Original series “We Were Liars” stars Emily Alyn Lind as primary protagonist Cadence Sinclair, only 16-years-old, but the eldest heir of the Sinclair family, who washes up on the beach after a terrible accident, with no memories of what happened to her in the last few days. She turns to her closest friends Johnny (Joseph Zada), Mirren (Esther McGregor) and Gat (Shubham Maheshwari) for answers, but they seem to be under strict instructions to not exacerbate her mental health, so they refuse to divulge much, hoping she will find all her answers herself. Johnny and Mirren are also her first cousins, while Gat’s her ‘first love’.

The first episode of “We Were Liars” immediately reminded me of The Summer I Turned Pretty, another beachside tale about privileged teens spending their summers in luxurious coastal homes. But unlike that show, “We Were Liars” is far more convoluted, pretentious, and painfully difficult to sit through. The writers make the show way more serious in tone than it needed to be, trying too hard to be a dark drama about privilege, secrets, love, heartbreak and class differences.

Set on the exclusive Beechwood Island, the story “We Were Liars” revolves around Cadence Sinclair and her dysfunctional, ultra-wealthy family. The island belongs to her grandfather Harris Sinclair (David Morse), a manipulative old-money patriarch with no sons. His three daughters: Penny (Caitlin FitzGerald), Carrie (Mamie Gummer), and Bess (Candice King), are more concerned with inheritance than kinship, constantly bickering over money like rival corporate heirs. The sisters’ petty feuds could’ve delivered sharp, dark humor, but their mean-spirited exchanges often cross the line into bad taste.

Sinclair sisters in ‘We Were Liars’

Their toxic competitiveness trickles down to the next generation. The teens, Cadence, Johnny, Mirren, and Gat, are dubbed “the liars” for always getting into mischief. Cadence is an only child, Johnny has a younger brother, and Mirren has twin sisters. Gat, the outsider, is the nephew of the boyfriend of Johnny’s mom. Cadence and Gat play the brooding thinkers, Johnny is the flamboyant, fun one, and Mirren is the quiet artist.

Emily Alyn Lind instantly reminded me of Elle Fanning as Cadence, but the character quickly devolves into a frustrating mess: obsessed with Gat and unwilling to drop her infatuation even after discovering that he isn’t the “knight in shining armour” she thought him to be. Shubham Maheshwari’s Gat starts off as charismatic, but soon morphs into a clichéd “brown boy” trope, suddenly awakened to colonial injustice after one trip to India, reducing centuries of history into a single bland comment about “so much culture there.” Like seriously, no regular 16-year-old would come back from their first trip to India with nothing but a newfound hatred for colonialism, unless they were enrolled into a history class on their trip.

Rahul Kohli as Ed Patil, Gat’s uncle and Carrie’s boyfriend, is a far more grounded character than the younger cast of “We Were Liars”. Still, it’s hard to care about any of these “private island rich” people, whose biggest crisis is that no one except the patriarch can manage money. The Sinclair sisters are all spoiled, and so are their kids, though Mirren, played sweetly by Esther McGregor (last seen as Nicole Kidman’s rebel daughter in Baby Girl), is a mild exception.

Cadence and Gat in “We Were Liars”

Told through indulgent flashbacks and a present-day mystery about Cadence’s memory loss, “We Were Liars” feels like a trick on the audience, an overly drawn-out drama about people with too much money and too little purpose. Cadence’s biggest “struggle” (apart from the memory thing) is whether her grandfather will accept Gat, who isn’t white, never mind that she doesn’t even know if they’re dating.

By episode 5, I was tempted to quit. I skimmed through episodes 6 and 7, but watched episode 8 out of stubbornness, and regretted it. Yes, the show looks beautiful, offering sunlit beaches, aesthetic summer wear, and a moody soundtrack, but none of it saves the shallow, repetitive storytelling.

The finale leans on a manipulative emotional twist, possibly lifted from the novel, but instead of feeling moved, I was just irritated I had stuck with the series. The episode also ends with a very Titanic-like twist, you know, a character throwing something extremely expensive into the ocean, but more because they are a privileged brat and not a 100-year-old unable to get over a boy they dated for two days when she was 17.

If you enjoy watching rich white people cry over their imagined woes, then “We Were Liars” might be for you. Otherwise, skip it.

Now streaming on Prime Video.

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‘Callus’ Short Horror Film Review

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The word ‘Callus’ is defined as ‘an area of thick hard skin on a hand or foot, usually caused by rubbing’ by online dictionaries.

Ciarán Hickey’s short film ‘Callus‘ is a folklore-horror tale about a man named Ferghus (Michael Patric) shielding his young daughter, Íonait (Gráinne Good), from his small, superstitious town. Íonait is born with a grotesquely deformed hand, and the midwife at her delivery warns Ferghus against keeping the baby, claiming the child is an ominous sign sent to test their community. As Íonait grows older, it becomes increasingly challenging for Ferghus to keep her confined to their humble home, away from prying eyes and wagging tongues.

About 18 minutes long, ‘Callus‘ is a bleak tale exploring how superstitions can shape small rural communities, promoting discriminatory, harmful, and violent behavior. Just because she is born different, Íonait becomes a symbol of fear, hatred, and wrath. After an ominous cold open featuring a flashback to Íonait’s birth, the first few minutes of the film focus on the domestic lives of Ferghus and Íonait.

The father-daughter duo live in relative peace, even though the girl is largely confined to her home. However, she shares a loving bond with her father, with no rebellious streak in sight. On the encouragement of a neighbor, Ferghus takes Íonait out for her first drink at a local pub to celebrate her 18th birthday, and that’s they day things change.

While ‘Callus‘ doesn’t explore anything particularly new, it’s an interesting folklore-horror tale, albeit mild in violence and gore. Driven by a small cast of talented actors who convincingly sell the gloomy rural setting, it’s worth a one-time watch for indie horror film fans.

You can watch ‘Callus’ on YouTube.

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KPop Demon Hunters Review: Light Sticks Meet Dark Arts – with ‘Aegyo’

Sneha Jaiswal (Twitter | Instagram)

Given the global rage of Kpop idols and music, it was only a matter of time before someone made a movie about a Kpop girl band fighting the bad guys. Netflix’s animated musical ‘Kpop Demon Hunters‘ is set in a world where singing trios across generations protect humanity by keeping demons at bay with their music. It’s far-fetched, silly, fun and turns on the ‘aegyo’ (the word for ‘cuteness’ in Korean).

Directed by Chris Appelhans and Maggie Kang, Kpop Demon Hunters follows popular girl band Huntrix, comprising lead singer Rumi (voiced by Arden Cho), rebellious rapper Mira (May Hong), and chirpy maknae Zoey (Ji-young Yoo), who double as demon hunters, keeping evil forces at bay through their powerful music. Their strength lies in their voice and fan following, which is threatened by a rising K-pop band called the Saja Boys, demons masquerading as hot idols, led by Jinu (Ahn Hyo-seop), who aims to weaken their base and powers.

Kpop Demon Hunters starts off with a funny sequence of the girls flying in their private jet, gorging on ramyeon and junk food to power up for their big show. Their personalities are immediately established as goofy, cutesy, friendly and sort of relatable. And before they hit the mic, they also fight off some demons on the way! It’s a humorous, action-packed start that leads to their first song in the film, capturing the essence of most K-pop concerts, with fans cooing and going crazy as they cheer on Huntrix with their custom light sticks. The film takes plenty of subtle and funny digs at Kpop fans, like a small running gag which shows a bunch of guys crying their eyes out whenever they talk about their idols.

But once Jinu, the demon who plots to topple the Kpop Demon Hunters, debuts with his boy band, the Saja Boys, even the Huntrix girls are blinded by their deceptive good looks and charm for a second. Even the usually calm, cool, aloof Mira is shaken by the boys! The animation hilariously captures the girls crushing on the boys before realizing they’re demons. The rest of the film, of course, follows their quest to defeat them and save the world from their demonic charm. A major sub-plot reveals Jinu to be a far more complex character than an out-and-out villain, which makes Rumi wonder if all demons are bad. One of the film’s funniest moments is how the writers cleverly poke fun at ‘shipping’ culture, showing fans instantly pairing the Huntrix girls with the Saja Boys and setting off a frenzy of romance rumors.

With a 7+ rating, Kpop Demon Hunters is the kind of animated musical that will probably be best enjoyed by viewers between the ages of 12 and 17, although it’s also a fun watch for regular fans of animated films with goofy plots and the good old ‘good versus bad’ theme. Mira’s character reminded me of the film ‘Ruby Gillman: Teenage Kraken‘, which is all about a non-human girl trying her best to pass off as a regular kid at school. Mira, too, isn’t completely human and has a hard time concealing her true nature from her favorite bandmates, scared they won’t accept her for who she is. So there’s also the usual ’embrace yourself with all your flaws’ theme going on in the plot.

Animated by Sony Pictures Imageworks, Kpop Demon Hunters features character designs that blend popular K-pop idol aesthetics with flair. You can see the creators have even taken inspiration from the big names in the K-pop worlds – BTS, Astro, BlackPink, TWICE, among others. In-fact, TWICE members have even recorded a song for the film, it’s called ‘Takedown’. The animation is vibrant, colorful, and visually catchy, though some scenes suffer from slightly sluggish character movements, almost as if they’re buffering. But those moments are very few. On the plus side, the lip-syncing during dialogue is impressively accurate and well-timed.

And well, since Kpop Demon Hunters is a musical, with multiple song-dance sequences, the original soundtrack for the film is energetic and fun. Some of the tracks are catchy, with bubblegum beats, while others are more generic, although they do sound like a mix of Kpop songs you’ve already heard of. For instance, the Saja Boys debut with a track called ‘Soda Pop’, whose vibe might remind some of Zerobase1 song ‘Feel The Pop’. Overall, the music is enjoyable, the tracks smoothly help push the plot forward, never feeling contrived, and the vocal talent recruited the songs shine in their parts.

Packed with Korean food, glitzy visuals, girl power, and a hint of forbidden romance, ‘Kpop Demon Hunters’ is an entertaining genre-bending musical that brings Kpop to the world of action-fantasy. This also hold potential for a full spin-off series. The climax cheers on girl power, friendship, and closes the girls’ adventures on a high note.

Kpop Demon Hunters is streaming on Netflix.

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‘Trainwreck: The Astroworld Tragedy’ is More Emotional Than Investigative

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Netflix documentary ‘Trainwreck: The Astroworld Tragedy’ revisits the fatal crowd-crush that took place in November 2021 at a music festival headlined by rapper Travis Scott in Houston. Eight people died on the day of the concert due to asphyxiation, and two more passed away in the hospital over the following days.

About 1 hour and 20 minutes long, Trainwreck: The Astroworld Tragedy begins with first-hand accounts from concertgoers who attended the event, recalling their excitement to see Travis Scott perform, unaware of the nightmare that awaited them. Survivors give chilling testimonies of how they were nearly crushed to death, saved in the nick of time. Plenty of video footage and photos back up their ordeal, offering viewers a suffocating look at what happens when an overcrowded night of music spirals into chaos.

Footage from the event shows that Astroworld was a ‘trainwreck’ waiting to happen even before the music started. Unruly concertgoers can be seen rushing into the venue as soon as gates open: pushing each other, breaking barricades, and displaying a complete lack of control or oversight. Anybody remotely scared of crowds, wouldn’t want to be part of such an event.

Apart from survivors, security personnel, medics on duty that day, and event workers share their accounts of the disastrous Astroworld festival. The documentary also includes interviews with the family members of 23-year-old Rodolfo Peña, who tragically lost his life at the concert, adding a poignant perspective to the narrative.

Strikingly, no one in a position of accountability agreed to appear on camera to present their side. Instead, the creators include an old video of Travis Scott commenting on the tragedy, offering prayers for the victims’ families and claiming he was unaware of the crowd crush’s severity. However, what stands out is footage showing sections of the audience loudly chanting “Stop the concert! Stop the concert!” While it’s debatable whether Scott himself could hear or grasp the situation unfolding, the lack of action from event organizers raises serious questions about their response – or lack thereof – to the chaos.

A crowd-safety expert featured in the documentary asserts there was ample evidence the tragedy was preventable, blaming it on poor management and the overselling of tickets. Astroworld was organized by Live Nation Entertainment, yet no representative appears in the film. The absence of a legal perspective is also jarring; the creators could have strengthened the documentary by including a legal expert or any of the lawyers who represented the victims in their lawsuits against the organisers.

In the end, ‘Trainwreck: The Astroworld Tragedy’ provides an emotional account of how the devastating event impacted concertgoers and survivors. However, viewers looking for an in-depth, investigative documentary will likely be disappointed. The Wikipedia page on the Astroworld tragedy contains five times more information than what this segment presents.

Trainwreck: The Astroworld Tragedy is streaming on Netflix.

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Butter Book Review: Keeps You Hungry Yet Satiated

Rating: 5 out of 5.

Sneha Jaiswal (Twitter | Instagram)

“Why the hell is she messing my head with Rika and Reiko?!”

Three pages into the book “Butter” by Asako Yuzuki, and my tiny silly brain started complaining about the author using two very similar names for its primary characters, confusing me almost immediately. I instantly abandoned reading the book and started doing something else.

After a few hours, I thought about trying again, and not let the 3-year-old me with attention issues win, telling myself ‘Rika is the journalist, Reiko, the one who ends with o, is the one who is married, Rika is the loner (although she does have a boyfriend), Reiko has a more rounded life.’ Also, no, I don’t think Reiko has a more rounded life simply because she has a husband, it’s just a cheap mind trick for me to remember who is who. In-fact, my copy of ‘Butter’ confused Rika for Reiko at Page 360, a printing error I am not going to hold against the publishers and editors. If anything, I was totally thrilled to be vindicated.

Okay, let’s talk plot. “Butter” follows primary protagonist Rika, a journalist in her early 30s, working for a popular weekly Magazine in Tokyo, and trying to land herself an exclusive interview with Manako Kajii, a convicted serial-killer. Author Asao Yuzuki takes inspiration from the real-life case of Kanae Kijima, known as the Konkatsu Killer, sentenced to death in 2017 by Japan’s Supreme Court for poisoning three men to their deaths and defrauding several others.

Asako Yuzuki’s ‘Butter’, excellently translated by Polly Barton (I never felt things were lost in translation), is of course heavily fictionalized. Its primary focus is on Reiko’s increasing obsession with Manako Kajii, a gourmet food blogger who loved to cook, accused of killing three of her lovers, even though the evidence against her is largely circumstantial. The case attracts a lot of media attention, a lot of the focus being on the fact that Manako Kajii is nothing like the ‘femme fatale’ archetype. Manako is dubbed ‘fat’ and ‘ugly’ by most, her appearance at odds with Japan’s strict beauty standards that expects women to be slim, and petite.

Could a woman like Manako, lacking conventional physical charm, manage to lure several men into spending truckloads of money on her, mostly to satisfy her love for gourmet food, and premium butter, simply by cooking them elaborate home-cooked dishes? It’s an anomaly that perhaps infuriates, disgusts, or simply confuses people that have fixed idea about beauty, love, and attraction.

I’m glad I quickly got over my first three-page problem with Reiko-Rika, because after that, it was hard to put down ‘Butter’, even though I did take my sweet time to read the novel, unwilling to finish it too soon. You know, when you’re served a delicious meal and you want to savour all its flavours slowly and not regret devouring it like a hungry, homeless person?

Reading ‘Butter’ felt like that, even though there were a few elements that didn’t sit right with me. But I was wholeheartedly open to letting author Asako Yuzuki cook this tale however she wanted to. Well, okay, maybe not 100% wholeheartedly, because the climactic chapters gave me a scare: that things might end on an unnecessarily tragic tone. And even though that wasn’t necessarily the case, there’s more hope than tragedy in the end.

“There are two things I simply cannot tolerate: Feminists and Margarine,” Manako tells Reiko in their very first meet in prison. It made me think about how if not for feminism, Manako would’ve been burnt as a witch without trial. The thing is, Manako agrees to meet Reiko in prison after several failed request, eventually relenting when Reiko uses some advice from her best-friend Rika – if you must draw an elusive person who loves to cook, ask them for a recipe.

When Manako finally agrees to meet Rika, the killer upfront declares she won’t talk about her case at all but only wants to talk about food. Thus begins a sordid saga of Reiko meeting Manako multiple times in prison, forging a twisted bond, all in the hopes of a life-changing exclusive interview at the end of the tunnel. Reiko soon spirals into the world of Manako Kaiji and it all starts the latter’s recommendation of a gourmet butter brand and a simple rice recipe to go with it.

The story is interestingly set in the curious times of a butter shortage in Japan, and the opening chapter highlights this shortage when Reiko heads to meet her friend Rika for a meal. Reiko texts Rika if she needs something, a rhetorical courtesy that she hoped would be answered with a ‘no’, but instead she is requested to buy some butter, if she can find any. So right from the very beginning of the novel, ‘Butter’ becomes a powerful symbolic food, representative of desire, temptation, excesses, and a hunger for something sinful.

Reiko, who starts off an underweight, workaholic journalist who’s never stepped into her kitchen or bothered to buy butter, almost never indulging herself when it comes to food. But soon she starts to cook, putting on a surprising amount of weight, which draws instant criticism from almost everybody around. And what prompts the change? Her prison meetings with Manako Kajii, which begin to go beyond the professional exchanges between a journalist and her subject. And there’s a constant suspense over whether the woman will relent and give Reiko a career-changing exclusive.

‘Butter’ is a book dominated by women, the lead trio of Rika Machida, the primary protagonist, Manako Kajii, her subject, and Reiko Sayama, Rika’s best-friend. The men are incidental, kinda like Manako’s victims, be it Rika’s workaholic boyfriend Makoto, or Yoshinori Shinoi, a senior journalist who often gives Rika tip-offs about stories he isn’t interested in covering himself. There’s a strong sense pervading the novel that despite having close friends and partners, almost all these characters are lonely, repressed, held back by the strict conventions of the Japanese society. So entangled are they in their work lives and societal ‘goals’ that no one realizes how starved they are for human connection.

Manako Kajii is the only person who, to Rika, seems to have truly lived life to the fullest, now paying the price for her excessive gluttony and sexual appetites. Is she a modern-day witch on trial, or a manipulative murderer who did kill the men who desired her? Butter keeps the real truth open-ended, even as the law takes its own decisive course through punitive action against Manako.

If I really had to complain about something, it’s Rika’s questionable journalistic credibility, but only regarding the serial killing case. she gets far too deeply involved with Manako to be objective in her perspective. But of course, it’s precisely Rika’s twisted bond with Manako that spurs the story in Butter, leading to a chain reaction of events, and her unhealthy obsession with the murder-accused becomes a source of worry for other characters too. Asako Yuzuki illustrates how people can get swept away by larger-than-life personalities, and sometimes, it more personal or psychological, than the other person’s ‘influence’.

From cooking Manako’s favorite dishes, visiting her hometown, interviewing her family, friends, trying to get into an exclusive culinary school which might’ve triggered Manako’s murderous instincts, Rika as a journalist covers all possible bases to prepare the ground for her exclusive. Reiko, her ‘perfect’ best-friend, emerges as a dominant force in the second-half of ‘Butter’, revealing herself to be just as ambitious as Rika, and a lot more manipulative and pushy than she lets on.

Just a bar of ‘Butter’ for representational purposes.

You know how some people say that in friendships and love, three can be a crowd? It’s comically strange yet understandable how Reiko becomes envious of Rika’s growing empathy for Manako. So, she embarks on a personal mission to prove to Rika that Manako is a cold-blooded murderer, not a victimized gourmet princess body-shamed by cynics. The contrasting natures of the bonds between these three women is the best part of ‘Butter’.

However, the most dominant theme of these Japanese novel, is the way patriarchal and traditional expectations dictate people’s lives, overburdening them with self-censorship. ‘Butter’ takes a long winded, philosophically complex route to serving its ultimate lesson: that putting yourself before others isn’t something to be ashamed of. How does a journalist attempting to land herself an exclusive become a journey towards ‘self-love’? Well, you’ll have to read the book to find out, which eventually celebrates food, friendships, and bond forged through either shared trauma or mutual interests. The celebration is slow, quiet, fulfilling and maybe sometimes challenging.

The final chapters of ‘Butter’ are absolutely engrossing, making it hard to put the book down. There’s drama, tension, suspense, hastily made dangerous decisions, and lots of gourmet cooking. I won’t be lying if I said I was constantly hungry while reading the book, but luckily I’ve never held back from consuming a dollop of butter with my food.

Rating: 5 stars on 5!

Rating: 5 stars on 5!

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‘Trainwreck: Mayor of Mayhem’ Review: The Rob Ford Diaries

Sneha Jaiswal (Twitter | Instagram)

Rob Ford is one of the rare Mayors in political history to be caught on camera doing cocaine while still in office. But what’s more surprising about the case is his refusal to step down from the post and gaslight the media and the world about never trying crack cocaine. Netflix’s documentary ‘Trainwreck: Mayor of Mayhem’ revisits Rob Ford’s rise to the position of Toronto’s Mayor and his eventual fall as scandals about his drinking and drug habits came to fore with the first two years of his taking office. It’s the tale of a populist politician who couldn’t keep his personal demons in check.

Years before U.S President Donald Trump made is fashion to discredit the media and rouse hatred within the electorate against the ‘fourth estate’, it was Rob Ford in Canada’s Toronto, who ensured his voters didn’t believe a word that came out in print (or tv) against him. The journalists interviewed in ‘Trainwreck: Mayor of Mayhem’ recall following Rob Ford’s stormy political career, which was a wild ride of controversies, unhinged emotions, and shocking twists.

Less than 50 minutes long, Trainwreck: Mayor of Mayhem feels more like a snazzy news segment than a typical documentary, which attempts to get both sides of the story, although there’s not one family member of Rob Ford on camera. Instead, it features close political aides, a bodyguard, among others, who saw his workings firsthand. What emerges is a split personality: one of a surprisingly sincere and hard-working politician, who was willing to go door to door to help out his electorate, someone who got things done in his first year of office; the other is that of a raging alcoholic, maybe a drug addict, intolerant of criticism, and unfiltered in his emotional reactions.

A clear portrait of a right-wing leader – overtly ambitious, ridiculously influential – emerges in the documentary, one who was never ready to let defeat bring him down. Even though the documentary makes some comparisons between Rob Ford and Trump, mostly due to their right-wing populist approach to politics, it’s also evident that Rob Ford was a lot more articulate and astute than Trump. His closest political aides reveal how they were kept in the dark about certain aspects of his life. Although, of course, who knows if they are telling the whole truth?

I really didn’t know anything about Rob Ford or his political career until viewing this documentary, so all I can say is that this was definitely very entertaining to watch as a foreign viewer.

‘Trainwreck: Mayor of Mayhem’ is on Neflix.

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Revenged Love Eps 1-4: Wild, Wacky, and Tian Xu Ning Brings the Heat

Sneha Jaiswal (Twitter | Instagram)

The Chinese series ‘Revenged Love‘ (逆爱) follows protagonist Wu Suo Wei (played by Zi Yu), who is completely heartbroken after being mercilessly dumped by his ex. When he discovers that her wealthy new boyfriend, Chi Cheng (Tian Xu Ning), is also into men, Suo Wei hatches a harebrained plan to seduce Chi Cheng as an act of revenge. But what happens when he himself falls for the handsome, charismatic ‘bad boy’ Cheng?

‘Revenged Love‘ spans 24 episodes and is based on the novel ‘Counter Attack‘ by Chai Ji Dan, who is also behind the popular shows Addicted and Advance Bravely. Episode one comically sets the tone of the plot, introducing Suo Wei as a poor guy excited to have his girlfriend over for lunch. However, he is dumped for a rich guy, who in turn is ditched for an even richer guy: Chi Cheng. The girlfriend is so caricature-ly horrid, she is reduced to a joker-like vamp in the tale, just there to push forward the primary romance.

Suo Wei swears he’s straight and totally not into men, but he’s dead set on getting revenge on his ex by seducing her new boyfriend and breaking both their hearts. The only problem? Chi Cheng isn’t just rich; he’s young, hot, and very used to turning heads across the gender spectrum. Winning him over won’t be a walk in the park, it might just be a snake pit. In episode two, Suo Wei turns to his newly found doctor friend Jiang Xiao Shuai (Liu Xuan Cheng) to teach him the art of attracting men, since Xiao Shuai is openly gay. In a little twist, Xiao Shuai is aggressively pursued by wealthy playboy Guo Cheng Yu (Zhan Xuan), a close friend/brother of Chi Cheng. Yeah, the plot is a familiar combination of co-incidences, trickery, silliness and delivers some exaggerated yet entertaining drama, generously laden with comedic moments.

Chi Cheng (Tian Xu Ning) & Cheng Yu (Zhan Xuan)

So, ‘Revenged Love’ has a primary romance that follows the naive-yet-manipulative nutcase Suo Wei trying to entrap the even crazier, snake-fanatic Chi Cheng. Yes, Chi Cheng might be the heir to a successful business, but he prefers spending his time breeding and petting snakes, participating in snake-fights (like cockfights), and occasionally playing basketball. Whatever time he gets in between is spent in pursuing more physical pleasures, or at least that’s the word on the streets.

There’s also the secondary romantic storyline about Cheng Yu hitting on Doctor Xiao Shuai, even though the latter shows zero interest at being pursued. In fact, Cheng Yu is also obsessed with snakes, just not as much as Chi Cheng. A major subplot in ‘Revenged Love’ revolves around Chi Cheng trying to recover his pet snakes after his father steals his large reptile collection to force him into taking over the company and marrying a girl. Suo Wei of course doesn’t want Chi Cheng to marry his ex-girlfriend and works hard to accelerate their break-up. Although, funnily, he has no idea that their relationship is barely serious (the one between his ex and Chi Cheng).

While Zi Yu is comedically cute as ‘Revenged Love’ protagonist Suo Wei, Tian Xu Ning is pitch-perfect as the fiendishly good-looking Chi Cheng and reminded me of Japanese actor Ito Asahi from ‘Futtara Doshaburi’. While in the first four episodes they’re still in the courtship period, their onscreen chemistry is fun to watch, with Suo Wei often experiencing ‘gay panic’ around Chi Cheng, while the latter often looks like he would devour Suo Wei in one bite. Tian Xu Ning suavely portrays Cheng’s dual personality – cool as a cucumber on the outside, but a maniac on the inside. He has ‘crazy in love’ eyes and often unsettles Suo Wei by blatantly flirting with him, saying things like, “Stop talking philosophy, let’s discuss anal anatomy,” with a serious face.

A lot of the dialogues in ‘Revenged Love’ are wacky as hell! For instance, when Xiao Shuai advises Suo Wei to simply seal the deal with Chi Cheng if he wants to stop him from marrying his ex-girlfriend, Wei says, “This thing of mine isn’t just for show. Why should I let him top me?!” LOL.

Just like drag queens have fairy godmothers, Liu Xuan Cheng, who plays Doctor Xiao Shuai, is like Suo Wei’s gay godmother in ‘Revenged Love’, inducting him into the world of queer love and sex. Xiao Shuai has a flirty and feisty personality, and it’s subtly funny and endearing how he never holds back from admiring Chi Cheng’s good looks whenever he sees him. Suo Wei’s is much like a BL fan, rooting for Suo Wei and Chi Cheng to hook up for real. Guo Cheng Yu’s character motivations aren’t clear yet, so it’s hard to evaluate Zhan Xuan’s portrayal of the character at this point of “Revenged Love”. Although, he does look good onscreen with Xiao Shua, and there’s potential chemistry there. Ironically, Zhan Xuan also looks great with Tian Xu Ning, each time they share screen space.

If there’s one glaring problem with “Revenged Love“, it’s the weird dubbing. It’s evident that several actors in the cast have not done their own voiceovers. While this is fairly standard in the Chinese industry, it can be quite distracting for foreign viewers. This problem is of course going to persist throughout the show, but at least the background score isn’t too bad, although, some sections could’ve benefited from more music.

Going by the first four episodes, ‘Revenged Love’ is fun, chaotic, and a pretty entertaining adaptation for BL fans who are tired of censored Chinese adaptations!

You can watch the first four episodes of ‘Revenged Love’ on YouTube.

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Flat Girls Review: Tender, and Slightly Tangled

Sneha Jaiswal (Twitter | Instagram)

Jane and Ann are childhood best-friends, neighbors, and daughters of police officer’s, living in a government residential complex for cops, thus the movie title ‘Flat Girls’. But Ann’s father is no more, so her family, comprising of a gambling addict mom and three other younger siblings, face the threat of eviction. The girls dream of spending their lives together, but the difference between their financial conditions threaten to break their bond.

Directed by Claire Jirassaya Wongsutin, ‘Flat Girls’ stars Earnearn Fatima Dechawaleekul as Ann, the overburdened eldest daughter with ambitions to become an air-hostess, while Fairy Kirana Pipityakorn plays the chubby-cute Jane, with fairly no real problems in life, except for an overtly critical mother who never misses a chance to body-shame her own daughter. Boy Pakorn Chatborirak plays Tong, a young police officer living in the same quarters, Jane & Ann’s new friend, badminton partner, and eventually a source of a jealous rift between the girls.

The first half of ‘Flat Girls‘ is filled with relatable realism about the complexities of teen love and everyday struggles. The police quarters where the girls live is old and proudly wears its tired, middle-class exterior, quite unlike the swanky apartment complexes seen in most Thai teen romances. Ironically, while Jane is content to spend the rest of her life in the same flat as long as she has Ann by her side, Ann cannot wait to escape the claustrophobic life in the flats. The dull residential buildings, bustling with families, with stale graffiti on the walls and paint chipping away everywhere, becomes an oppressive character in itself, courtesy the simple, straightforward cinematography.

Both girls love each other, but Jane begins to wonder if her possessiveness over the beautiful Ann is simply sisterly affection found in childhood friendships or something more. She is more confused when she starts to have a small crush on older cop Tong, who starts to play badminton with the girls. Tong however, seems to gravitate towards Ann more. The heart of the story lies in the emotional ups and downs the girls experience in their friendship and budding romance.

Earnearn Fatima Dechawaleekul is relatable as the fragile, hard-working, Ann, portraying the character with a tender earnestness that makes her the stand-out star of ‘Flat Girls’. Ann is forced to play mother to her siblings, while their mother spends most of her time gambling or creating trouble for them. Ann’s friendship with Jane is her primary source of comfort and escape, but with Ann’s mother constantly borrowing money from Jane’s mom, she begins to feel the friendship becoming unequal, while Jane remains blissfully (and annoyingly) unaware of her feelings.

At first, Boy Pakorn Chatborirak’s portrayal of Tong is endearing. However, the character’s evolution becomes questionable in the second half of Flat Girls. Tong, who is clearly in his early 30s or older, while the girls are barely 18, is introduced as a friendly guiding figure for the teens. But eventually, his character becomes an unwanted adult intruder in their lives – a confusing presence whose intentions aren’t clearly spelled out and are left to the viewer’s interpretation. Tong ultimately comes to symbolize how adulthood disrupts the carefree innocence of teenage life.

The climax of ‘Flat Girls‘ adds a small twist, revealing that Jane’s life isn’t as smooth or carefree as Ann had assumed. However, the last-minute complications in Jane’s family feel unnecessary: an overly forced attempt to drive home the “everyone has their own struggles” message. While its slowburn pace is leisurely delicious in the first half, the story’s scattered focus makes it lose its emotional edge.

However, the film finally with an open-ended climactic twist, again, leaving the events opens to interpretation, which depending on one’s view could seem like a happy ending or perhaps slightly tragic. Regardless, it marks the end of adulthood for the ‘Flat Girls’, as they leap towards new uncertainties in their life.

Rating: 7 on 10. ‘Flat Girls’ is on Netflix.

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Outer Banks Season 1: Thrilling, Sun-Soaked Adventure!

Rating: 4 out of 5.

Sunita (Twitter | Instagram)

Outer Banks Season 1 delivers a thrilling mix of teen adventure, treasure hunting, and class conflict set against the backdrop of the sun-soaked coast of North Carolina. At its heart is a group of teenagers — the “Pogues” — who stumble into a centuries-old mystery involving a missing father, a sunken ship, and $400 million in gold.

What makes this series so addictive?

1. Fast-Paced Storytelling

The season kicks off with high energy and keeps the momentum going throughout. Each episode builds tension and ends with gripping moments that make it a binge-worthy must-watch.

2. Strong Chemistry Among Cast

The friendship among the core group Chase Stokes (John B), Rudy Pankow (JJ), Madison Bailey (Kiara), Jonathan Davis (Pope) feels natural and heartfelt. Their bond gives emotional weight to the series. The show masterfully balances intense survival drama with lighthearted moments of friendship and romance.

3. Stunning Visuals

The show is beautifully shot: beaches, boats, and backwaters offer a constant sense of summer adventure. The stunning beach backdrops, pulse-pounding chase scenes, and shocking twists make it hard to stop watching.

4. Engaging Mystery

The treasure hunt isn’t just about money; it’s tied to legacy, love, and betrayal. There’s enough plot twist to keep you guessing, without becoming incoherent.

So those were the factors that made ‘Outer Banks’ season gripping and entertaining. But here’s what Could Be Better

1. Some Stereotypes

The “rich vs. poor” divide (Kooks vs. Pogues) is a central theme, but at times, it’s painted a bit too black and white.

2. Unrealistic Teen Behavior

The Pogues often act beyond their age – taking on criminals, outwitting adults, and surviving nearly everything thrown at them. Fun to watch, but not always believable due to the exaggerated twists.

3. Soap-Opera Melodrama

Romantic entanglements and emotional betrayals sometimes feel overly dramatic, but hey, that’s part of the charm for many.

Final Thoughts

Season 1 of Outer Banks hits a sweet spot between teen drama and action-packed adventure. Think The Goonies meets The O.C. with a splash of National Treasure. It’s escapist, addictive, and surprisingly heartfelt, perfect for viewers looking for a fun and wild ride.

Rating: 4 stars on 5. Outer Banks is on Netflix.

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