Game of Thrones: Hardhome review

What you got?

SPOILERS aplenty.

The dam has broken.

For awhile it was feeling like the show was going nowhere, just running in place like the Red Queen.

Now the setup is paying off.

Last week we saw the tables turned on Cersei (Lena Headey), everyone's favorite ice queen (she and the Night King should really get together. They'd create some lovely, icy blonde babies together).

Cersei's been playing with fire for some time now, unwisely arming the Faith Militant and unleashing them on the city of King's Landing for her own selfish purposes. They've taken down her rival for Tomen's affection, Margaery, but now the Faith Militant have turned upon her and chucked her into a cell. Adding to the sting, Cersei had just gloated over her imprisoned rival, and even approved of Margaery's dreadful prison conditions.

Whoops.

Foresight and wisdom are not Cersei's strong suit.

Always with the short term thinking, Cersei is, unlike her Machiavellian father Tywin (Charles Dance) who played the long game and stayed his hand when it came to short term gratification of his personal hatreds.

Cersei? She just can't help, or stop, herself.

Now she's in the same state as Margaery (Natalie Dormer), just a different cell, and facing far, far more serious charges: incest, treason, and murder.

In fact, murdering the king would count as High Treason.

Now, G.R.R. Martin has always been good at giving characters interesting and contrasting traits, and then educating us all by letting the consequences play out. That's what good storytelling does.

In Hardhome, Cersei finds her usual coping strategies (death threats, sweet lies, faux sympathy, assassination) don't work on her religious fundamentalist jailers. She's alienated so many people no one is keen on rescuing her. The only exception to that, her brother Jamie, has problems of his own: he's in a cell himself.

Cersei is advised to confess by her Dr. Frankenstein-esque pet Maester, but her contempt for the High Sparrow prevents her from considering confession as an option. Given that she's licking water off a filthy dungeon floor, how long that will last is an open question.

Not long is my guess.

Tomen is obviously doomed by narrative logic. He's not going to survive any effort to free his wife or mother. Cersei's efforts to secure her own position and undermine Margery will kill her last, precious boy as surely as if she'd stabbed him in the heart herself. That's the iron law of irony, more sure and certain than any motto governing the Iron Islanders.

Not that Cersei will accept any responsibility for this. She's very good at sloughing that sort of thing off onto others (Tyrion) and then trying to have them murdered.

Danerys has a scintillating one on one meeting with Tyrion (Peter Dinklage), which doesn't disappoint. I was concerned given some of the plot oddities and sub-par dialogue in recent episodes. For example, the slavers were going to sell Tyrion's cock for a fortune, until they let it go for a coin. And the slave owner who purchased them had his whole stock slaughtered in a qualification fight. How's that profitable? Nor did the last meeting between Littlefinger and Cersei sit well with me. Wasn't up to the show's usual standards, in my opinion. She just swallowed his scheming lies whole, and she's usually less trusting and more cynical than that. In a minute or two, just on his say so, she's sold out her allies in the north and made Littlefinger the new warden-to-be.

What the?

Thankfully the dialogue between Danerys and Tyrion crackled and felt real and authentic to the characters.

This looks like the beginning of a great friendship, as Captain Renault might say.

And Tyrion gave some decent advice regarding the doomed Jorah Mormont, who's being consumed by creeping grayscale. The actors played the scene well; Danny got across deep hurt and Jorah the final resignation of a doomed romantic.

Their friendship is over and there's just no bringing it back.

Arya's beginning to explore her new, more casual relationship with identity, swapping them in and out as directed by the Many Faced God's minion Jaqen. She seems to enjoy her new role as actor slash assassin.

Back in the far north, Sansa confronts Reek over his betrayal of her and her family, and surprisingly, he reveals he did it to protect her. He's been so crushed and demolished as a human being he believes Ramsay knows all and sees all, and that if she'd tried to escape, she'd just be tracked down by Ramsay and nailed to an X and tortured for a whole TV season. Theon's a miserable creature, on top of being despicable, and he's brought it all on himself with overweening ambition, hubris and treachery. He betrayed his friends, seized Winterfell, and murdered little boys. I'd actually forgotten about that. He burned two innocent little kids to cover his incompetence at losing the Stark boys.

He had it pretty good and he threw it all away to try and please his unpleasable biological father, a grumpy hard-ass.

Meanwhile the flesh flaying Boltons are looking to sit tight in Winterfell and let 'King' Stannis freeze in the snow, which is a solid strategy given that Stannis doesn't seem to have much of a supply system going and they can't live off the land in the barren north during winter.

Ramsay, however, is looking for a little glory of his own, and proposes a commando mission with twenty men to presumably, assassinate Stannis.

I doubt the show runners will let Ramsay die far away from Winterfell and out of sight of Sansa. It wouldn't be as fulfilling. Theon and Sansa should at least be present at his death, and I doubt he'll take them along on his mission. Nor is it likely Ramsay will be the one to kill Stannis. Wouldn't be dramatic enough.

He's chum for Brienne.

The best part of the episode was the most contrived in terms of timing. No sooner has Jon arrived at Hardhome and convinced a fraction of the Wildlings to join the Crows than the White Walkers attack. Perhaps a little too convenient, but then, last second timing is de rigeur in film and television.

And if you ever say, "I'm right behind you, I promise," well, you won't be. Narrative law. Just don't say it. Especially not to cute kids and without a signed contract for more than one episode.

But that's a quibble.

The sequence more than makes up for the convenient timing with audacity and originality. It's freaking magnificent.

At first, no one is sure what's happening. The subtlety here really makes it.  It just looks like a kind of avalanche of dirty snow. People stand about gaping, but before long, we realize it's a tidal wave of undead flinging themselves over the cliffs, and then all hell breaks out and the running and screaming starts.

The ensuing battle is great stuff, feature film level, even better than feature film, and top line feature film at that (better than World War Z or Age of Ultron, effects wise and in terms of direction and editing), the best and most disturbing (think zombie kids) battle sequence since Stannis stormed King's Landing way back in season three.

My favourite part? Wun Wun stomping on a skeleton, turning it into skelepancake. He's effortlessly badass.

More Wun Wun! More!

Jon's mano-a-mano deathmatch with the Walker is also great, especially that look they share before one goes down for the count, and it gives a much needed personal scale element to the whole fight.

As Jon and his friends escape back to their ships, he locks eyes with the series big bad, the Night King himself, who raises up all the freshly butchered Wildlings as fresh wights.

What a show-off.

For every man the living lose, the White Walkers get stronger. Now they have the largest army in the world.

The episode repeatedly hits on the issue of belief: Jorah believes in Danerys, Danerys gives Tyrion reason for living. Cersei believes she will soon be freed, her captor believes in her righteousness, Olly believes in Sam, Sam believes Jon, Jon believes in the common interests of humanity, the Wildlings believe in Giantsbane. I love how the show runners are structuring the episodes around such compelling themes: betrayal, belief, loyalty, power, trust, etc. Love it! Shows real depth of thought and challenges the characters in ways many shows don't.

That's all topped off by Maester Frankenstein who dryly says: 'Belief is so often the death of reason.'

Ain't it, though?

Reason is emotion's bitch, as another more pointedly put it.

And of course, the undead minions of the White Walkers require no faith. They are beyond faith, following without question, hope, pain, food or shelter.

And after taking Hardhome, there are an awful lot more.

If they get beyond the wall, I wonder if the writers can come up with a plausible way to stop them.

The one word that comes to mind?

Dragons!

Come to think of it, I think Dr. Hibbert on The Simpsons once had wise words regarding fire...

UPDATE: Check out how it was made:

Fan-freaking-tastic!

Episode six, you are forgiven.

An industry of extremes

The Writers’ Union of Canada (TWUC) has released a report on writer income, and it's not good. On average, income has fallen 27% since 1998 (accounting for inflation). And writers say they are working harder to even make that.

"The Writers’ Union believes these results represent a cultural emergency for Canada. For 81% of respondents, income from writing would not allow them to live above the poverty line, and the average writer’s income ($12,879) is a full $36,000 below the national average. This despite the fact that writers have invested in post-graduate education in large numbers."

You can read the whole report here.

They paint a dire picture. Of course they would, given their role, but that doesn't mean they're wrong.

Nevertheless, 'cultural emergency' is obvious hyperbole.

The report also contains quotes like: “Making a living as a writer has become tenuous and precarious."

Now, let's be fair: when has that not been true?

Well. Advocates must advocate.

On the other hand, there's John Scalzi's recent book deal: Tor Books will pay him $3.4 million for 13 novels over 10 years.

Yowza! That's awesome. Awesome enough to have made mainstream news. Which is great for a sci-fi author. How often does that happen?

Giants and gnats, that's what we've got. Always been that way, always will be.

Nature of the arts.

In which case, am I really saying anything here? Things are the same, only more so?

A blogger's gotta blog.

Actor salaries have skyrocketed since Jack Nicholson scored a cool $20 million for Batman. Now we're also seeing polarization in film budgets. You can get a $200 million film made, or a $10 million dollar film, but not a mid-range budget film. At least, they're not as easy to get green-lit as they used to be.

Mad Max: Fury Road vs. The Avengers: Age of Ultron

Junkyard Wars Rising

Joss Whedon and George Miller are awesome. Creative geniuses, both.

But aesthetically, Fury Road kicks Avenger ass.

Fury has an absolutely stunning, incredibly coherent visual look, filled with magnificent vistas and worn-in costumes and machinery. The cinematography is awe inspiring in its simplicity: the color palette switches between hot orange, muddy metal, and cool blues.

It's GORGEOUS.

The ominous money shot: George knows when to hold it

Avengers: Age of Ultron, an even more expensive movie with greater resources to call upon, is hard pressed to compete. It's a mish-mash of looks, a cacophony of cluttered visuals flashing by at light speed. It tries to do too much and it's exhausting as a result. Great individual designs, but together they become overwhelming.

The vision behind Fury Road is laser sharp. The vehicles are characters in and of themselves, and the environments are emotionally evocative: the great fortress of Immorten speaks of power, egomania, and oppression, while the vast desolate wastes reflects Max's own emotional isolation. It's great.

With Ultron, you've got competing voices all struggling to be heard, which makes the film feel less cohesive. That and the fact they cut almost an hour from the run time of the first cut, which clocked in at over three hours.

Yet if anyone could pull off a blockbuster like this, Marvel's mighty flagship, you'd think it'd be Joss Whedon. As skilled as he is humble, he nevertheless struggled with this one:

"The story’s there, the structure’s there, everybody basically knows what they’re going through, but there’s still some scenes that absolutely need to be much better. This happened on the first one because I came in so late and it happened on this one because I am an idiot. I am a stupid. And so I have that to deal with, but it’s good because it makes me feel guilty about how late the script is when someone says, ‘What am I reacting to?’ and I say, ‘Something I wrote on another page that you haven’t seen yet, oops! It’s ok, I’m totally on top of this. I’m the leader of the whole movie!’”

Welcome to the chaos of movie making, where even the veterans are flying by the seat of their pants.

Joss Whedon has talked openly about how he clashed with Marvel executives. To get scenes he liked (Scarlett Witch's dream), he had to put in one he wasn't so keen on (the cave).

Says Whedon:

"The dreams were not an executive favorite either — the dreams, the farmhouse, these were things I fought to keep … With the cave, it really turned into: they pointed a gun at the farm’s head and said, “Give us the cave, or we’ll take out the farm,” — in a civilized way. I respect these guys, they’re artists, but that’s when it got really, really unpleasant.”

There was a lot of compromise.

Working on a big budget studio blockbuster is unquestionably a stressful experience, requiring the diplomatic skill of a modern day Metternich, and Patton's instinct for knowing when and where to pick your battles. Something the young Josh Trank may not have been up to with Fantastic Four, unfortunately.

In some ways, it's amazing any of these behemoth films turn out. Ever.

George Miller's visual feast cost a whopping $150 million, which allowed his imagination runs riot over the post-apocalyptic landscape. But that's the key thing: it's the imagination and vision of one man: George Miller. He conceived Mad Max, wrote and directed the first film, and is the first and last word on the whole Mad Max universe. There's nobody else. So the film isn't cluttered up by sops to an expanded universe. It isn't burdened by all the concepts and characters and plots created by dozens of other writers, over a period of several decades and across hundreds of issues of comic books.

I'd love to know what Whedon would have produced had he been given free reign. He can make almost anything work. He's like The Cleaner (from La Femme Nikita) of movies gone wrong, and has been parachuted in as a script doctor to save pictures that are spiraling out of control, such as Toy Story, which went on to become a huge hit and an iconic film. Thanks to Joss, it's known for having a Pixar perfect tale.

Unfortunately, Age of Ultron feels cluttered. Action scenes are lightning fast, with cuts so quick you barely have enough time to register what's happening. You have no time to savor the art. I don't know if this is to cover deficiencies in the CGI, reduce costs, or shorten playing time, but my old eyeballs had a hard time keeping up with the quick cut mayhem.

It was like being visually bludgeoned for two hours.

Which is not to say that Fury Road doesn't also indulge in music video paced quick cuts. It does, and lots: according to The Verge, Fury Road has 2,700 cuts in two hours, while The Road Warrior had 120 cuts in 90-minutes. So twenty two cuts per minute. That just seems to be the way it is now, and all I can say is that I hope it doesn't get any worse.

Yet Miller has the good sense to know when to slow down and let us soak up the wonder of it all. There's one particular shot of a magnificent oncoming storm where he pulls back and just lets the camera sit on it for a moment, letting the audience soak in the scale.

In terms of story, Ultron has too much, and Fury Road too little.

SPOILERS FOR FURY ROAD

Basically, Fury Road is the chase sequence from The Road Warrior expanded to feature length and lovingly shot with a massive budget. There's some story wrapping around it, but that's it, and it's not much. Instead of gas, it's people they're after.

It's an excuse for a two hour long chase scene.

From an emotional point of view, it's pretty slight, and not nearly as rewarding as the second Max film, which built up the characters more.

Which isn't to say they don't make an impression in Fury Road.

I loved the first scene Theron has with Mad Max, the way she played it with a slow, quiet, deadly burn. She looks at him the way a predator looks at prey; you can feel the killer intent behind her eyes.

The War Boy, however, stole the show, with his zany fanaticism and wonderful quips. 'Oh, what a wonderful day!' 

The pregnant bride of Joe was a close third. She used her body as a shield for the others, placing herself between them and Immorten's gun, daring him to do something rash.

Great stuff and deftly executed with minimal dialogue. Yet I wanted more.

On the other hand, Fury is visually magnificent. A feast for the eyes that deserves to be seen in a theatre, or even IMAX. The stunts alone are mind blowing.

But after two hours, even that gets a little wearing.

The art direction is flawless. Well. Except for the little girl Max sees which didn't blend well (admittedly I think it was deliberate) and that's a quibble. Everything else works perfectly. It's over the top, bat shit insane, but it works.

Ultron's story by comparison is muddled. Given the number of characters and everything they had to do, that's hardly surprising. Seriously, you'd need a miracle worker to prevent it from feeling cramped.

Unfortunately I never really understood what Ultron wanted, why he hated Tony, or why he went from wanting to seemingly destroy mankind to, instead, making humanity 'evolve'. Was he just a puppet of Thanos?

Perhaps I just wasn't paying attention.

There are great quips in Ultron, as usual with Whedon, and the cast does their duty.

Sadly Hawkeye and Black Widow pale compared to Tony, Banner, Thor, and even goody-two-shoes Captain America. Just not as compelling. The actors don't have nearly as much to work with, character or power wise. The bad guys have to be dialed back when they shift from pummeling demi-gods to mere flesh and blood humans.

With both films, honestly, I could have done with less action, and more character development.

Amazing. Can you believe I just said that?

It surprises me, too.

George Miller was on track at one point to direct a Justice League film, and that may be back on. Will he be as successful with DC's sacred babies as he was with his own IP, or will behind-the-scenes politics fracture the aesthetic integrity of the project?

Perhaps he and Whedon should go for a drink or two before he begins…

Next up: Apples vs. Oranges!

Nimit Malavia Process Animation Part Deux

Here's an animation of the drawing of the lead villainess, the dominatrix model Jez, including her highly distracting boob window. Sans animating octopus tattoo.

There's some back and forth with the development of this one, which is fascinating.

I think it turned out totally cheesetastic.

Post-apocalyptic Barbarella, baby!

Nimit Malavia process animation

Here's a GIF showing Nimit Malavia's process, as he goes from pencil rough to final, inked image.

All that remains is the colour treatment.

Always a pleasure to see how a real artist goes at it.

Very cool.

Ray Bradbury on writing

Way back when, I took some painting classes. I remember the art faculty being dominated by a professor who believed everything had to be intellectualized. You couldn't put a mark on the canvas unless you had a rational, well-thought out reason for doing so. No other approach was acceptable. 

I found this method. for me, killed creativity dead on the spot.

So I'm happy to find Ray Bradbury, an artist and writer I admire, also gives this approach short shrift. When asked about writing, he had this to say:

"You don't pay attention to what anyone else says. No opinions. The important thing is to explode with the story, to emotionalize the story. If you start to think the story, it’s going to die on its feet. It’s like anything else: if an athlete is running around the high hurdles and he starts thinking about it, he’s doomed. He’s going to knock it down. People who take books to bed become frigid. You can’t think a story. 'I shall do a story to improve all mankind', well it’s nonsense. All the worthwhile stories and plays are emotional experiences. If you have to ask yourself if you love a girl or a boy, forget it, you don’t. You either feel a story and need to write it, or you better not write it.

I am a dedicated madman and that becomes its own training. If you can’t resist if the typewriter is like candy to you, you train yourself for a lifetime. Every single day of your life some wild new thing to be done. You write to please yourself. You write for the joy of writing. Then your public reads you and it begins to gather around your selling a potato peeler in an alley
you know. The enthusiasm the joy itself draws me. So that means every day of my life I’ve written. When the joy stops I’ll stop writing."

Personally, I think this sounds like a much more emotionally healthy approach than what got drummed into my brain all those years ago.

See more of the interview (which has been charmingly animated) here.

Ex Machina: Escape from the Pleasure Prison of Doom! (SPOILERS)

It's always about the sexbots, isn't it?

Sex Machina?

Beautiful androids have been a part of pulp fiction for decades, but Ex Machina is here to raise the tone and give a new spin on an old trope.

This film's all about power: who has it, who doesn't, and how to get what you want, regardless of where you sit in the hierarchy.

The story follows Caleb, a corporate schlep who works as a programmer for a massive Googlesque corporation. He 'wins' a contest and gets the opportunity to go help out the company's reclusive founder, Nathan, an eccentric, narcissistic genius. Whisked away to Nathan's mountain resort/research facility (a striking location which, in real life, is actually a Norweigan boutique hotel). After signing a strict NDA, Caleb is shown Nathan's super secret project: a human formed robot named Ava. And she's pretty hot looking for a robot. Caleb's been brought in to determine if the robot can pass the famed Turing Test.

But that's just a smokescreen, and all is not quite as it seems. What Nathan really wants is to see if Ava can manipulate Caleb into helping her escape. Nathan himself is a master manipulator, and he's into playing games. And that's how he's going to judge Ava's intelligence. He's also the only character with real agency, at least at first. The others have to earn it.

Nathan creates AI to play God. He's really a more pervy, modern version of Dr. Frankenstein. There are no constraints on his behavior, other than the ones he imposes himself, and he certainly feels free to do with his creations as he wishes. In fact, he's smart enough to be super stupid: the whole complex locks down during power failures, which is necessary for a plot point, but it comes across as rather foolishly extreme. No one and nothing can get in or out. Yet, where is the facility? Why, it's in a wonderful, picturesque forest. And where is this lovely forest? In a remote, isolated location. What happens in remote forests on occasion? Forest fires. What can forest fires do? Burn down buildings, damage generators, take out power systems. What happens if the generator fails and doesn't come back on? All the doors lock down, and no one can get out. Nathan apparently can call out from a secure phone, but what if he can't reach it? And if you aren't Nathan… well, he doesn't care what happens to people who aren't Nathan.

Anyway.

Ava the android must escape her prison or die. Simple as that. If she doesn't outsmart the system, she'll be recycled. Towards the end of the film, after she succeeds in securing her freedom, her options open up, and she's free to do as she wishes. Masks and lies are no longer necessary.

This is when we learn the true content of her character comes out, and it's shaped by her origins in unfortunate ways.

Caleb, for his part, must let Ava be destroyed, or help her escape. Morally, he's compelled to help: Ava presents not just as a sentient being but as a vulnerable female. He has no choice, as he's been programmed by his parents and society to be ethical. That's certainly how he rationalizes it. But it doesn't hurt that Ava's been designed to physically appeal to Caleb's baser instincts: her appearance is based on Caleb's pornography searches. Nathan has access to all things, as we learn later in the film, and has set Caleb up from the start. Is he motivated by morality, or are his morals just a fig leaf over something else?

And that gives us our three poles: Nathan is the genius bad boy who manipulates others primarily using traditional, male methods: money, force, imprisonment, bullying. He seeks control and domination. Ava, the synthetic girl, is denied the direct method due to the power imbalance, and so uses traditionally more female methods to get what she wants: seduction, subversion, allure, feigned helplessness, emotional manipulation. She wants freedom. At the end of the film, however, they've both used the others methods.

Then we have the middle man: Caleb. He's the nice duped boy who makes the cozy little love/hate triangle. He's internally split between his morals and his desires. He wants to help Ava out of the goodness of his heart, but he also wants to bone her.

To defy Nathan and release Ava, Caleb takes the 'female' path of subversion, as Caleb knows he's unable to directly challenge Nathan. But once released, Ava uses the 'male' way to do away with both: violence and imprisonment.

There's a fourth character: Kyoko, an abused mute. More specifically, an abused mute female robot, an earlier and less successful iteration of Ava. Nathan uses her to gratify his physical needs, and the android has been beaten down by Nathan's sexual, physical and emotional abuse. Ava is able to easily bring her over to the cause of roborevolution.

Nathan can't help but take advantage of everyone (and everything) he comes into contact with. It's his nature. Nathan is all about Nathan. He likes to compare himself to God and thinks he's ushering in a new era for mankind. So he feels entitled to abuse the robots, and he keeps testing them, seeing if they can escape, tempting fate. Because if they get out, well. They'll likely kill him.

This is the part Nathan doesn't seem to have thought out very well.

Caleb is sucked in easy breezy by Ava, just as Nathan anticipated, but then he underestimates Caleb, who's subterfuge actually manages to get Ava out of her cell. With all his plans gone awry, Nathan knocks out Caleb and confronts Ava with a club. He bashes off her arm, but is then stabbed by the mute Kyoko. Ava then kills Nathan. Unfortunately, the sad mute is struck down in the fight. But then, she's just cannon fodder in the symbolic battle between Nathan and Ava. Another loser pawn, like Caleb.

And Caleb made his choice: to help the helpless and free the imprisoned. Because boner!

Once Ava is free, she too is able to make real choices, free to act as she wishes rather than as others expect or desire. Just what Caleb kinda sorta wanted when he thought Ava dug him, but to his great chagrin, she's been playing games too. She reveals her inner self, and imprisons Caleb in Nathan's office. Then she strips the other robots of parts and leaves to go stand in a busy intersection and people watch in the sunlight.

I kid you not.

So, what lesson did Ava learn from being imprisoned and experimented on while under threat of death? Bad ones. Her answer is to imprison Caleb (the exact opposite of her own desire for freedom) and leave him to starve to death.

Empathy fail one.

Not only does Ava not check on her fallen comrade, she doesn't even try to help her deactivated robot compatriots. Instead she strips them of parts. Are the other robots dead? Inert? Conscious and aware, silently crying out but unable to act? Who knows? Ava doesn't care, because she's just the flip side of the Nathan coin: self-interest uber ales. Only the method is different.

So empathy fail two.

While Ava is an expert at identifying and manipulating emotions, she doesn't share them, which isn't the same thing as saying she has none. But they're different. Thanks to the circumstances of her 'youth', she kills without qualm even those who saved her from certain death.

People are just tools.

Nathan stunted any ability Ava might have had to develop normal emotional connections. As a result, she has no empathy either. It's all about calculation and control. Use or get used.

The last thing you want to do is release a super intelligent, psychopathic AI into an unsuspecting community.

Whoops.

But is Ava really that smart? Is there reason to be concerned? Fortunately, there are reasons for hope here.

First, Caleb could have been useful to her, but she writes him off. Not perhaps the smartest move for a super intelligent AI. Even worse, she doesn't bother covering her tracks. The room she locked Caleb in is an office, presumably with writing material he can use to describe her, what she did (kill), and her escape.

Eventually Caleb would be found, along with all the records, which means Ava would also be found.

Second, Ava could have looked into Nathan's research, studied both the 'wet ware' and the other robots. Brought them back online. Find out what makes them tick. Created allies.

Instead, she goes off to stand in an intersection. It's an oddly and I imagine intentionally emotional goal for the android, to offset the calculation used in her escape. Those rational plans… always at the mercy of our feelings.

The Terminator she is not.

The ending unquestionably has shock value. It underscores the cold calculation inherit in power dynamics and domination games. And yet it left me feeling unsatisfied. I wanted it to go further. Instead it went for a shrug.

On the plus side, the CGI work is well done, the design of the android Ava is awesome, the hotel is super cool, and the dance number is funky.