I love good guys

To no one's surprise, yesterday's Nintendo Direct ended with an official announcement of the long-rumored (and leaked) The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time remake. Watch the official Nintendo trailer (1:37). To some surprise, we learned that it will come out later this year, presumably in time for the winter-holidays gifting season, not only in time for the run-up to the live-action movie next year.

The official tagline is that this is OoT "reborn" (not remade, rebooted, reimagined). OoT is one of the most beloved, influential, and respected video games of all time (#1 on Metacritic). Original in 1998, it got an extremely faithful remake (tech glow-up?) in 2011, and is available for play today via Nintendo's subscription service. Some folks long for Nintendo to add to the story and world; others dread any alteration.

From the very little we saw in yesterday's announcement, the art style seems reminiscent of years of Unreal Engine fanworks. I imagine that the Nintendo business mucky-mucks directed that the Switch 2 must be put through its visual paces, probably gesturing at the competition, and this is how the team responded. Some fans are thrilled with the realism; some would have strongly preferred a new stylization. (I think pretty much everyone knew that the Wilds era art style had had its day: 2 epic main series games, 2 side games.) I'll wait for a real trailer, but in defense of the realism choice: (1) the original OoT was lauded for its realism in its day, and (2) the live-action movie audience may find realistic art an easier entry point than stylization. Nintendo won't want to repeat Wind Waker's [undeservedly!] poor reception in the US.

(Some details from the preview: I spotted Link's cap on his bedpost. I imagine the blue leathery armor over Link's classic green tunic is meant to evoke the blue Champion's tunic for all the Wilds-era fans (and given that Skyward Sword Link flopped down in chainmail and boots, we should all accept that Link can sleep in anything). I think that KokiriTheory is right about the tapestry being a narrow top-to-bottom sequential telling of the whole story; kudos to her. And of course Zeltik is right to call out that the opening narration is emphatically in the past tense ("Long ago, there was..."), which is key to those of us who have fun with timeline lore.)

I saw Masters of the Universe (2006) at the theater light night. I had a lot of fun! I don't know exactly what I was expecting, but I did not expect what they made, which is a joyous campy subtly-clever romp that got me smiling soon, and smiling more and more the longer it continued. Children and adults who never knew this IP can have a fun time fully as much as those of us '80s children who somehow still know, say, Queen Marlena's origin, or who Teela's mother is, or the name of every action figure in our brothers' and cousins' and neighbors' toyboxes.

Never has watching a movie felt so much like playing with action figures.

The folks who wrote and directed this movie clearly watched the cartoon, loved it, and somehow made something based on it that is stand-on-its-own-feet separate while also resonantly truer to the half-hour-toy-commercial show than reverently solemnly recreating it could have done. They don't mock the original; they don't justify the original; they open its toybox and play. (Thank you, Greta Gerwig, Margo Robbie, and the rest of the superlative Barbie team for making this lesser-but-also-worthy movie possible.)

And of course the story has a moral and they make it really hard to miss. Just as they should!

Stay for all the post-credit scenes. If you watched the cartoons, they all pay off big. If you are a rare remember-er of the 1987 Dolph Lundgren and Frank Langella movie, the final one has an extra spark.

Here are some recent fannish things I've happened to see and would like to share!

Spotlight: In May, I finished The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword on Switch 2. I haven't been sure how to sum it up. On the one hand, it's great; if I could have played [my way] longer than the ~120 hours I did, I would have. The story and characterizations really are among the best in the series, the painterly art style is inviting and comfortable, and several dungeons felt amazing. On the other hand, I couldn't play my way any more at a certain point, and at that point I felt almost glad to flee out through the finale. Spoiled by open-world-ness, perhaps? ( Read more... )

Ficathons, fests & communities

• Create & engage
  • beagoldfish, a "microbang" fanwork celebration, runs 7/01-8/31.
  • fkficfest, the annual Forever Knight event, comes due 7/18.
  • launchtheship, the annual challenge to write the first story for a relationship, comes due on 7/20.
  • allbingo's June theme is "Pride Month."
  • trope_of_the_month's June theme is "historical AU."
  • pinchhits is a community for needed fills for exchanges. For example, worldbuildex is currently seeking pinch hitters.
  • whenisitdue tracks many more events than I note here!
• Enjoy & share
  • fancake (themed fanfic recs); June theme: "just like canon"
  • gensplosion (gen fanfic recs)
  • het_reccers (m/f fanfic recs)
  • fanart_recs (fanart recs)
  • recthething (fanwork recs)

Sidelight: The Nintendo eShop has a sale through 6/09 that, unusually, includes a few first-party games (all Mario, it looks like). I picked up Spiritfarer (2020) by Thunder Lotus Games for a 90% markdown to just $2.99 USD (!) (Wikipedia entry). Its storyline is about Stella and her cat, who take over as psychopomps from Charon. Yes, it is indeed a cozy management game about dying, and I've had it on my wishlist since I learned about it.

Before I donate it to the library, I want to share a quick observation about the storytelling in the short Regency romance novel A Matter of Class by Mary Balogh (original 2010, my copy 2024). For context, Balogh is a reliable, respected, bestselling author in this genre.

(The observation that I came to share is not that the cover illustration is painful: a nose-to ankles photo from behind of a woman in a costume so glaringly period-inaccurate that it has a very prominent zipper, shimmers with the syntheticness of its fabrics, and basically looks like it was purchased at Spirit Halloween. No, I'm compelled to add this only because the cover is sitting in front of me blaring its sad wretchedness and making me feel for the model, the photographer, and the actual illustrator who could have been employed and wasn't.)

What I wanted to share is that this story is structured such that the protagonists throughout know something essential that the other characters and audience do not. This is kept from the audience until the end. Once the story performs its reveal, that the protagonists were in cahoots pulling an elaborate "Please don't throw me into the briar patch" gambit by pretending to despise each other, it recasts everything that has come before, and is a relief, because it transforms the protagonists from pretty unpleasant people to pretty typical protagonists for this genre. I think that it is supposed to be amusing and cheeky, and I bet that it would be on a second read. But I almost didn't read to the end because the protagonists felt so unpleasant and doomed, being maneuvered into a marriage that apparently they did not want; knowing that this genre always ends happily, I was increasingly tense with dread that this was a kind of especially misguided execution of enemies-to-lovers. Was I supposed to have figured out their secret? If so, there were not enough clues. The only thing that kept me reading was the flashbacks to the protagonists' childhoods.

I think that the contemporary convention of this genre always being from the perspective of the hero and heroine really tripped up this idea. The same story from the perspective of a relative, friend, or employee could have been a compelling journey with clues and concerns, not a parlor trick. Perhaps ironically, a story written in the period could have pulled off this plot better (though it would not likely have ever imagined this plot) because it would have had more narrative options.

Recently, I saw the last episode of season fifteen of Call the Midwife from PBS, and learned only after viewing that it was the series finale, not just the season finale. (Sort of. We'll get to that.)

This should not have surprised me. The historical setting had caught up to 1971. The Anglican sisters from the memoirs on which the series is based -- which I read back when the first season of the show was so amazingly well-made -- moved out of Poplar about then, when the UK's National Health Service phased out such midwifery. Our characters kept swinging for their patients, community, and mission throughout, but they went down in the end, as history says they must. (Also, the series just isn't as good as once it was. It used up the original memoirs material long ago. And successive waves of writers have seemingly had less and less feeling for important aspects, particularly religious faith, but also class and even historical accuracy. Bleah.)

Yet what made it such a surprise was that I knew the series had been renewed! What? It turns out that the renewal is for (1) a movie (feature film, not TV) set in 1972, (2) a new prequel series set during WWII with younger versions of the elderly sisters we know, and (3) a dedicated concluding "season 16" with a heavily modified premise, probably built around the lay characters adjusting to the new system -- and, I imagine, the sisters being absent entirely, or occasional cameos -- but we'll have to see the movie first, won't we?

I hope that the new things will be good. Winding back time for the prequel series appeals to me highly, but I'm concerned that without writers who understand history and faith, it will be a sad, threadbare experience for me, because I will see only what's missing. I will give them every chance.