The eighth season of Curb Your Enthusiasm has almost nothing special about it; Larry goes to New York for most of it, but the show has had much stranger season-long conceits than that, to the point that it barely registers. So what I want to mull over now is the show’s attitude as a professional work crafted specifically to entertain people. In spite of its sporadic output – next season will have a six year gap between seasons, the longest the show would ever do – there is a definite sense of professionalism here, continued (maybe even developed further) from its antecedent Seinfeld.
Admittedly, it’s kind of funny to say that because of the show’s improv-heavy approach. This is literally people dicking about until they find something funny – I think you can often see Larry David deliberately escalating a conflict quickly when he thinks the scene isn’t funny enough to pull something out of the other performer. David famously imposed the semi-improv conceit so he could retain the famous plotting of Seinfeld but not have to bother actually writing dialogue.
But I do think there is a solid base of a professional ethos here. Good art is about making things up, but great art is about knowing what to throw out; dramatic structure provides a good base for storytelling by tossing out everything that doesn’t cause or is caused by something else that happens in the story, and indeed Curb draws heavily on this in a farcical context. It reduces its world further by focusing almost exclusively on Larry himself; there are almost no scenes without him.
And that world becomes even smaller with Larry’s limited behaviour. He’s not quite as simple as, say, the Gang on Always Sunny (the way Dennis will hit on women, especially young women, or Charlie will do gross things without question) – mostly because these actions are taken from reality – but his behaviour is pretty predictable. Most episodes will have him trying to do someone a favour, try to steal something that doesn’t belong to him, or get angry about someone trying to flout a social convention (even if he has to make one up).
(This season does have a gag that’s almost poignant in how it expresses the little world Larry wants to live in, when he and his friends leave a show, someone asks if everyone had fun, and Larry sadly remarks “Not really.” This is a guy who only leaves his house when he’s forced to, even by himself. This also shows how he’s completely freed by getting divorced.)
Indeed, this is what opens up the world enormously and allows the show to explore otherwise contentious topics. The one episode that doesn’t completely work for me is “Palestinian Chicken” because it reduces the conflict to being between two teams (although having Larry not care at all and just want a sandwich is classic Curb). “The Bi-Sexual” works a lot better because it’s reduced to Larry’s petty behaviour and increasing, unnecessary rivalry with Rosie O’Donnell, and Larry’s rivalry with Michael J Fox over his use of his Parkinson’s is also great.
There’s also what different performers bring to different scenes. You can actually see how most people work because the day players brought in tend to fall back on the same things; mainly, matching Larry’s energy and giving back what he puts out. Most of them initially try to keep the peace, but Larry resolutely refuses to give in, and they’re forced to be just as stubborn back until the original point was lost.
More experienced and talented performers usually bring something of themselves. Paul F Thompkins is one of my favourite performers of this season, mostly because the concept of being annoyed to discover your lawyer isn’t Jewish is killer, but I also enjoy how he doesn’t really try too hard to fight Larry, continually trying to de-escalate without trying to defend himself (also, that episode has an incredulous Marty Funkhauser (Bob Einstein) give the immortal line “I went over to his house for Yom Kippur!”).
To put it another way, Curb Your Enthusiasm is the kind of show that doesn’t need an imaginative premise to work; rather, it’s a nice addition to what we came here for. Art is the opposite of science in that repeating something will always yield different results (keep that in mind when lifting ideas from somewhere else), and it’s fascinating to see that play out across a single work over time; you keep hitting the same note, and that will be what we come here for.
About the writer
Tristan J. Nankervis
Tristan J Nankervis (aka Drunk Napoleon) has been a writer, pop culture critic, dishwasher, standup comedian, waiter, potato cake factory worker, gamer, TV worker, and various other things. You can find him in Hobart, Tasmania.
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Department of
Conversation
What did we watch?
Red vs Blue, Season One, Episode Seven
A thing that’s been fascinating me as I dive further into really analysing comedy specifically is how many of them operate on what I’ve been calling ‘genre plot logic’ – that is to say, not dramatic cause-and-effect (although that’s almost always an element) but a more complex set of, effectively, Chekhov Guns. The original meaning of Chekhov’s Gun is that if something is introduced into your world, it better push the story forward – you hang a gun on the wall in the first act, and your audience will wonder why exactly you put it in there if it’s not used at some point. I do believe most fans of fannish works tend to interpret it more broadly; that is to say, they believe that a work must always be an intricate system of connected devices, and as a rule those connections can be more esoteric than cause-and-effect.
With genre works in particular, those connections tend to be either a specific moral statement or, at least, a question-and-answer approach – I notice fannish types in particular strongly prefer the latter, getting very antsy with ambiguous situations that are not explained. Game of Thrones and The Good Place are both works that live and die on this approach, and the collective response to LOST (which was a drama that used mystery as a coat of paint) led to clearer mystery writing.
The thing is, this actually fits pretty well with comedy, indeed running under the exact same logic – a setup and a punchline. Red vs Blue is sliding pretty well into that logic itself; within this episode, Tucker discovers that Red and Blue are both advised by the exact same guy and gets blown up before he can reveal it, O’Malley is filled with hints about what he is and where he got his vehicle, that sort of thing. It’s interesting actually, because there are a lot of works that fall into this thinking; I think as audiences our natural impulse is towards cause-and-effect, even if we don’t realise it (see all those times I watched old works and was like ‘oh, I cared so much because it’s structured dramatically) but our impulse as creatives is to keep making shit up, which mystery is intimately connected to – and comedy too, considering the source of comedy is surprising information.
This episode also delves further into the character. Pretty much any of the characters can be smart or stupid depending on the moment; Church is the clearest straight man in the group, and even he gets lots of gags about things like not knowing how military time works (“Is that six o’clock or six hundred minutes?”). On the other hand, individual characters are building up personal running gags, like Simmons being a cyborg (“Uh, Simmons? Why is there paper coming out of your ass?”) or Doc being a pacifist (“I took track in high school! It was the least directly competitive sport I could find!”). There’s even specific characterisation in a traditional sense, when Caboose and Donut not only get along famously when left alone, but Caboose manages to nearly get Donut to spill all the Red secrets with a game of Truth or Dare.
“He is taking advantage of her, because she is young and naive. And delicate.” The long pause before that last sentence fragment is what makes Hyneman’s performance genius.
“I could be Double-O Donut!” / “You mean like Doonut?”
“Shiela and Lopez are now leaving to form their own robot army. They said no one would dare oppose them.” / “What? Did you try to talk them out of it?” / “No way! I wouldn’t dare oppose them!”
“They will all taste oblivion! Which tastes just like Red Bull! Which is disgusting.”
There’s a really funny stupid gag where the Blues try to fake-surrender, only for the Reds to refuse until they actually attack and shoot one (thus giving them a reason to surrender).
Church gets increasingly irritated when Tucker questions the name ‘circle of confusion’ (“Fine! Triangle of Confusion! Rhombus of Terror! Parabola of Mystery! WHO CARES?! Get the goddamned show on the road!”).
There’s a two hour period where the characters argue over what would be ironic.
Trap
Only a little uneven. I’d heard this loses steam halfway through after they drop the premise, but I disagree; if it’s weaker, it’s because Girl Shyamalan isn’t a strong enough actor to carry that part of it. Dramatically, I think it holds up all the way, and Guy Shyamalan’s direction is a tight and interesting as ever; I particularly love a late shot of Hartnett sitting at his kitchen table with a bit of cupboard in the way, just being annoying and uncomfortable.
Rambo III
Stallone has a really strong understanding of archetypal power and melodrama (Metal Gear Solid runs away with this aspect and few other of the things these movies influences did). It’s a smart move to have ‘rescue of Trautman’ be the plot of the film; it’s cool to see him in action with Rambo for a change. Mostly this is violent carnage, of course, and there are some ludicrous kills here – my favourite is the guy who effectively gets hanged and exploded.
I also discovered the ‘brave Muhajideen fighters’ dedication was a myth, apparently.
Hothead
My favourite thing about Tubi are these no- and low-budget American movies from the Fifties and Sixties. This one is a slice-of-life drama about an angry teenage boy whose father is in jail for murdering his mother (forcing him to work crappy jobs) who picks up a sleazy hitchhiker and ends up projecting his father issues on him; the movie as a whole is mediocre but it has a delightfully demented finale actively pursued by the protagonist.
The Magnificent Ambersons
Rewatch. It’s incredible how alive and modern Orson Welles’s films look. There’s nothing wrong with ‘40s direction—I love a lot of these movies—but there’s still something jaw-dropping about seeing ’60s-style direction in one. It’s so kinetic.
Of course the studio forcing a particular kind of happy ending in place here hurts it—especially given how awkwardly it’s done—but George’s eventual “comeuppance” and transformation is affecting, and you get the full arc of it even with a botched ending. (I don’t buy George and Lucy’s romance for a moment, but I care that George is sacrificing himself for Fanny, and that’s what matters.)
Incredible Agnes Moorehead. I first came across Moorehead through her radio work—she’s incredible in “Sorry, Wrong Number”—and the vibrancy of her voice always stands out to me. It’s used especially well here, especially when Fanny is living at the edge of her nerves.
Kedi
Possibly the best cat movie of all time, certainly the most cat movie of all time; I’m glad this came up here so that I knew to look for it. This is a lovely appreciation of cats, people, and Istanbul, and it would pair well with Ursula Le Guin’s essay collection Cheek by Jowl, especially when it comes to the discussion of how people benefit from interacting with non-human species. It’s really moving to hear about the people who feel like they’ve healed deep mental wounds by taking care of the city’s cats.
It’s also fascinating to look at this as a passionate but unobtrusive thesis on why cities need mixed urban and green spaces and how too much development threatens everything: there’s the looming possibility here that these older parts of the city, where pavement sometimes cracks open to dirt and where wildlife can thrive, are going to be bulldozed over for high-rises, bringing an end to the cats’ free-range life and also to the lower-income human lives we see and also to the city’s sense of distinct character. All this gorgeous architecture! All the soul! All the cats!
Many, many beautiful cats here. I love them all. My cats, Boots and Bobo, also seemed engaged by the screening: Bobo watched the majority of the documentary, while Boots came in late but immediately hopped up on the coffee table to gaze avidly at the screen, blocking my view.
Hell yeah, Kedi. Definitely my pick for best non-fiction cat movie.
I’m sure the problem is me but I saw absolutely nothing great in Magnificent Ambersons, much as I probably shouldn’t side with 1940s studio bastards, I’d have chopped it to pieces in desperation as well.
Ha, well, I watched this with my mother-in-law, who wanted to see it in light of a recent Amazon announcement about them using generative AI to “restore” it (i.e., create a bastardized horror), and her verdict was, “This should not be made longer,” so you’re in good company.
Hahaha, excellent.
*cigar-chomping 40s studio bastard vomas* Agnes Moorehead? I need Agnes LESShead! Get rid of this footage FOREVER!
Hell yeah Kedi! And the boat guy talking about the cats he takes care of is lovely stuff (I also really enjoy his boat dog, that is one chill pup).
The boat dog was beautiful! I may have praised him a lot just so he knew he was also loved even though he wasn’t the focus of the documentary.
Of what I’ve seen, Welles’ movies always feels at least ten or twenty years ahead of whatever decade he’s making a film in, it’s uncanny. And I assume you’ve also seen the Twilight Zone Moorehead episode?
Yes, it’s one of my favorites! And a perfect subversion of some of her most famous roles by making her wordless–she has such terrific physicality in that.
AMBERSONS, NOTORIOUS, and LETTER FROM AN UNKNOWN WOMEN feel both specific to developments affecting the Hollywood style of the 1940s but also push it thematically into territory beyond what seemed permissible during the era.
From a filmmaking standpoint, the American Cinema of the 1940s hits a directorial high water mark, with Hitchcock, Welles, Ophuls, and Ford at the top of their game.
I really don’t think we see another powerhouse decade like it in American cinema until the ’70s, which I also love.
Slow Horses, fourth to sixth episodes of season three – The end of my Apple subscription, and so I leave off before season four and the forthcoming season five. And I think this is a good place to stop. As well made as the show is, it’s decreasingly fun to repeatedly watch MI5 alternately cover its own collective butt and spend most of its time in power struggles. Realistic, of course, but at some point in a spy show you want someone you can root for and that has gotten harder. Plus these characters seem incapable of even a little change. Never mind that the season ends with a handful of Slow Horses someone outgunning a heavily armed squad of mercs. But overall a pretty good time, though the first two seasons were better. Also, this got a writing Emmy last year, and if this is the best written show, then 2024 TV is not all that much better than 2000 TV, comparing this as its best and The Practice at its best.
The Practice, “Rhyme and Reason” – Bobby is recruited by Helen to defend a 12 year old who killed his mother in a fit of pique, but then Helen decides the boy should be tried as an adult. Eugene has to defend helping a murderer get off on a civil liberties violation to his son, and then loses it when the appeals court decides to ignore the hard evidence the killer did indeed have his rights stepped on. The second season ends strongly as it comes back to its strength of showing lawyers on both sides staring the ethics of what they do in the eye, and blinking. Guests here include Robert Pine as a lawyer who meets with Lindsay about hiring the firm to work on an asbestos case (we never hear about this one again), Clyde Kusatsu as an appelate jugde, William Sanderson as the father of the victims in the case Eugene is trying, and Louise Fletcher as the judge forced to decide if the 12 year old should be tried as an adult. We know Fletcher was a great actress, but her performance here is subtle in a way that her appearances in Cuckoo’s Nest and DS9 were not.
Frasier, “Father of the Bride”/”Radio Wars” – in the former, Frasier first accidentally offers to pay for Daphne’s wedding, and then takes over the planning even though Daphne had already complained about her mother’s interference. Some very funny bits, including a bizarre sitcom moment involving Martin remembering the past and a harpist. But it’s hard to imagine that Daphne’s working class family could pay for a wedding thousands of miles away in an expensive city, or that her successful lawyer fiance would not offer to pay for some of it. (Also, a very funny subplot where Niles thinks he’s met someone from a dating service but it’s really an escort service.) In the latter, a new morning show makes Frasier the literal butt of their gags – they offer a prize for the best photo of his posterier after getting him to say he has a big butt – and Frasier of course cannot take a joke. This one was a dud, since they’ve covered “Frasier is a stuffed shirt” before, including when Bulldog pranked him on the air, and since there really is no way Frasier can get out of this that would be interesting. (Thankfully for us all, the new morning guys hate each other and have an on air breakup and are never seen again.)
The Sandlot — family movie night! Apparently the nephews did NOT like the Linklater Bad News Bears, the characters were “too mean,” but they loved the catcher being a dick to the snob team here so that’s encouraging. This remains a bit eye-rolling (how many times can our narrator use the phrase “ANY OF US had EVER DONE”) and a tad squeaky clean, but that vibe works a hell of a lot better in nostalgia mode anyway than contemporary (or 90s) kiddie flicks. And the baseball stuff rules! As does the Beast stuff, all of the reminiscing being pushed too hard in voiceover is given the right space on screen. I loved this as a kid and if its flaws are easier to see now, it is also really nice to see how kids today still enjoy it.
Oldboy — family movie night? Not sure about this, which I had never seen before and did not know the twist of going in, but figured it out fairly early on (and I don’t think it’s meant to be hard to see coming). This works as an anti-vengeance thriller, what does not work for me is the riff on the most elemental family tragedy there is — that tragedy is based on rejection of information and lack of information, this is based on manipulation of information and more crucially manipulation of a person who is turned into an object for the two subjects to fight over. So the tragic balance feels out of whack to me and the resolution eliminates catharsis for a major player. A good watch with some interesting implications for Park taking on Westlake (this is a very Westlakian story in certain ways) but also a bit of a misfire.
Ms. 45 — now this is how to make an anti-vengeance thriller, by making it pro-vengeance. I love Ferrara’s The Driller Killer and this shares a basic vibe of “person going murderously nuts in hellhole NYC” but the Driller Killer is driven insane by city life and his own hang-ups, it is relatable but not “justifiable” (which is what gives the movie its weird ugly charge), Zoë Tamerlis’ attack on attacking men is immediately justified. Tamerlis’ is as remarkable as advertised but her muteness in performance leads to a certain inclination among reviewers to put words in her mouth; the always-perceptive Sheila O’Malley is one of the few people I’ve read to note how much Tamerlis just wants to be left alone and this is the driver in almost all of her killings, how the men are, in a very real sense, asking for it. The one time she is thwarted is her only active assault and Ferrara very pointedly shoots it as a gender-reversed “girl walks home alone at night” scene. And then comes the finale, where men are hunted down and a woman takes phallic action, betraying a sister. But Tamerlis is more than anything herself alone, O’Malley also points out that incredible scene of her with a gun and a mirror, but where Travis Bickle is playing at self-annihilation (which one of Tamerlis’ “victims” goes all the way on in the movie’s most inscrutable scene) Tamerlis is finding herself, or a version of herself. It’s the one time in the movie she smiles.
That’s a good point about one character in Oldboy being turned into a (manipulated) object–it interferes in the pure moral force of the revenge, which I’d noticed before, but I hadn’t thought about how it also doesn’t gel with the Classical parallels and how it therefore gums up the works of the tragedy. (In general, I think hypnotism shouldn’t be a major plot element in tragedies, or indeed in almost anything besides maybe horror; it’s too easy, and it reduces our empathy with the characters, because they’re no longer choosing their own actions. And I say that as someone who’s very fond of this movie.)
I wasn’t too put out by the hypnosis on our lead because he’s been fucked with the whole movie, this is just another thing getting his ass, but yeah — it’s a cheat overall, and a huge cheat for the other person. I am hugely susceptible to manipulations of character that do not make a lot of sense as logical or even possible storytelling (my go-to for this is always Arlington Road) but as goofy as that shit can be it is still based in that choice of action, that is a grounding factor that lets a movie get away with nearly unlimited shit.
Kneecap – I 100% thought this was going to be a lo-fi gritty music doc so my head exploded when Michael Fassbender turned up in the flashy opening sequence. Turns out it’s a fictionalised biopic starring the actual band-members, who knew? Anyway this was a hellraising good time for the most part, I thought the Fassbender family-issues stuff ran out of steam a little towards the end but the music-making and hedonism was consistently thrilling and the performances by the band members are incredibly strong for people with no acting experience. Great music too, although I was very happy that they subtitle a lot of the Irish-language rap so that I could understand what they were on about.
Halt and Catch Fire, episode 4 – I guess I haven’t quite given up on this yet, it’s still triggering some of my “prestige TV” biases but people do seem to say that it gets better as it goes on and I don’t have anything else TV-length to watch this week while I’m prevented from further Seinfeld progress by my girlfriend being on holiday. I liked that this one gets decent tension out of data recovery, this is my kind of nerdy shit.
Live Music – on Friday evening, an under-attended gig with (once again) Australian touring acts and a local opener. The headliner (Dez Dare) was a one-man garage punk kinda thing that was just OK (some solo acts just feel like they really need a band, and this was one of those), but the other Australians – Lunar Dirt – were a fantastic electronic duo, drums and synths, and they got the biggest reaction that the small crowd could manage, you could tell everyone was so into it. Sunday night was a sell-out even though it only offered a single Australian and she’s lived in the UK for years – excellent powerpop band Fortitude Valley, putting on a great show. Really enjoyed both supports too, Precious Metals were a little ramshackle but very charming and openers Big Other had a tighter post-punk / slightly gothy sound and a ton of energy.
Woooo live music! Wooo Australians!
Woooooo live under-attended Australians!!
My Altman journey continues
While being of wildly different genres, BREWSTER MACLOUD and MCCABE AND MRS. MIILLER share thematic links. Both deal with the desire to rise above one’s mortal station: Brewster, kind of a Herzogian romantic, wants to liberate himself through flight, but his more earthly passions, stemming from an stunted, adolescent temptation to get laid that tempers the purity of his quest. McCABE is less platonic (it is set primarily in a cathouse, after all) but seems focused on the cost of striving for personal success and how one compromises love and community from vanity.
The films, when viewed side by side, show two aesthetic sides of Altman’s personality. BREWSTER foreshadows NASHVILLE in its depiction of cityscapes as constructed for the integration of private space with public spectacle, with its protagonist living in a lost storage room in the Houston Astrodome as its chief metaphor. The directorial signature of using cars and roadways to connect the subplots otherwise linked by associative images through cross cutting, is introduced here as well. McCABES’s plot, on the other hand, conflates the private and public in an outdoor exterior stage seemingly built as the film’s production is in progress. It feels closer to MASH in the function of community than weaves itself through the personal story of the rise and fall of Presbyterian Church’s leading citizen.
I with I could declare BREWSTER a better film, but the absurdist comedy is more grating than humorous–it tends to underscore a certain sketchiness to flesh out the tone beyond the symbolism attached to flight and the one dimensionality of its characters. Despite a rough start, McCABE evolves into what is perhaps Altman’s most poignant film, finding a cockeyed way to reframe the tropes of the Western without mocking them for cheap topical irreverence. The final gunfight, spread out over an entire small town in the midst of a blizzard, might be one of the most beautiful sequences caught on film.
I wrote about McCabe last year, god what a beautiful movie. The gunfight is merciless and so perfectly staged.
I think you’re onto something with McCabe’s construction/evolution — I had a similar reaction of a slow beginning becoming incredibly powerful by the end, and it feels different from other filmmakers who more actively seed their structures. The metaphor for those movies is how things lock into place, but Altman’s movies feel more natural in their growth, in that it is right that the movie builds this way but it was not planned for the movie to build THIS way, if that makes sense. And yet stuff like that final gunfight doesn’t happen by accident.
Manny Farber and Patricia Pattinson’s essay on 70s cinema explores the dispersal of narrative clarity and the atomization of imagery in McCABE, likening it to post-impressionism transforming representational painting in the 1880s. I partially agree with this assessment, since much of the film’s effectiveness involves how the environment compresses multiple narrative events into confined spaces, each edited into various compartments. That attention placed on the winter climate also lends a physical naturalism to the way people, machinery, and gunmen operate. I think this is why the first 40 minutes or so feel rather confusing, but in the end, as you state, it feels necessary, as to explain the quality of mercy that graces the last shot.
What did we play?
Draw Steel
We’ve been playing this for a while, and I gotta say, I’m impressed. The game is not only perfectly balanced, it’s actually built so that players are always looking for ways to contribute to each other outside of their own turn; my character can amp up another character’s attack, so I’m constantly weighing up when would be a good time to drop that (because often characters can amp up their own attacks, so my contribution would be a waste). On top of this, I also gain my personal resources by other character’s action (like gaining resources when another character deals elemental damage). So basically, it’s impossible to figure out when to take a piss.
If I have a problem, it’s that the game is almost too balanced. There’s a very clear delineation between combat abilities and skills, with each never crossing over with the other. It can feel a little too video-gamey and I end up missing the messiness of, for example, D&D 5e. But then I play D&D and end up missing the simplicity and smoothness of Draw Steel. Such is life.
Still plugging along on Don’t Starve, with the Reign of Giants DLC turned on. The Dragonfly burned most of my base, which was discouraging–fucking summer! The worst season, in this game and in real life!–so I decided to go ahead and fuck off into Adventure Mode, which is where you actually have the game-ending conditions. I have played many, many hours of Don’t Starve, and I have never won Adventure mode. I have never even made it through three out of the five levels of Adventure mode. And I certainly didn’t on this most recent try, either.
I’m enjoying this, as always, and it’s great for podcast-listening now that I’m making my way through so many old Screen Drafts episodes, but I’m beginning to suspect that I’ll have to cut back any video game time–maybe even cut it out completely for a while–to keep up with things I technically need to prioritize (Magpies essays, money book) and things I should prioritize (reading, non-money writing).
Hollow Knight: Silksong – this continues to be infuriating and wonderful, I’m apparently about 16 hours into it and have managed to make significant progress into some new areas and various new skills / tools, although I’m still in Act 1 and it feels like there’s still a ton of stuff to do before I move on. I regularly get dispatched so quickly by a boss fight that I turn the console off in horror, but I’m often back for another go within a few minutes, haha.
It may just be that I don’t have as much experience with this yet as I do with Hollow Knight, but I definitely think the boss battles are harder. I’m about 40(!) hours in, and I think there are at least six bosses I can fight now, all of whom have kicked my ass multiple times, so I’m trying to decide if I want to take any of them on or try to find more upgrades elsewhere.
I’ve mostly spent this evening revisiting areas to find upgrades because the next major boss I think I need to fight – Widow – appears to be absolutely horrifying. But then I’ve thought that about several other bosses and I know I’ll eventually figure it out. And pushing on into the next unmapped area (Blasted Steps?) seems just as brutal so I guess I need to get back there tomorrow and try again (20 times)…
I do remember Widow being tough and I may have done more exploring before taking her on. But I don’t really remember.
Blasted Steps was definitely tough my first time through, though it’s mostly platforming… until you get to the end, where you’ll meet one of the bosses everyone really hates! Probably took me a couple dozen tries, at least (and those were just the times I completed the runback successfully without taking damage, which happened about half the time).
DOOM on Nintendo Switch
I actually have never played much of this and I had some free time over the weekend, so I played past the third level for the first time. Surprisingly classical, like an 80’s top down game that just happens to be in first person. Very clever level design from the start. Solid visuals that hold up great and very impressive sound effects. That bit in the third level when you get a key, the lights go out, and a bunch of guys show up out of nowhere still got me. And it’s a bit funny how the big objective at the end of every level so far is just pushing a bit button.
Hell yeah… hell?
You damn right.
Dos
We played one round of this, the sequel to Uno, with the nephews during the week. The big twist is that you put two cards down to match instead of one (and you have to yellow when you’re down to two, not one), so you can put down two cards per turn, or even more, since you can add up cards to match the number down. We didn’t try that last thing because we opted not to enforce some of the rules that we don’t understand yet, and just get the basics for the time being. We’ll get there eventually but as it is, it seems a faster game than its predecessor, though actually getting a winning hand remains as tricky and rewarding. Also, I won the game, so we’re off to a great start.
I can’t believe I had no idea there was a sequel to Uno.
“Guess who’s getting a divorce?! Martin Funkhauser!!” is one of my favorite scenes in the show for many reasons: (1) it really captures that freeing feeling when you’re out of a bad relationship/marriage, (2) Leon repeatedly saying “You used up that ass” while Marty tries to demur, and (3) Jeff being genuinely bummed he cannot join in the fun.