MS. MARVEL & The Daunting Disney Plus Question: How Do You Keep Something Special Forever? (Patreon)

THE QUESTION

The success of the MCU is perhaps unlike anything in cinematic history. Sure, the James Bond franchise maybe has it beat in terms of longevity and I think Star Wars media empire perhaps takes it if scaled for inflation. But both of those franchises have gone through peaks of popularity and relative dormant periods along the way. But the MCU is the comparative upstart. And they have spent the last 14 years rip roaring to the summit of Mt. Hollywood. With nearly 29 films they’ve now made over 26 billion dollars and have even more coming up the pipeline, along with a whole slew of television shows that have been appearing on Disney Plus. But at this dizzying acme, this point of saturation, it feels like the MCU is also finally facing those daunting questions that come with any franchise. When will the popularity start to dip? When will they stop attracting new audiences? And when will established fans simply decide to tap out from exhaustion? It is with that last observation that we realize that the thing that makes the MCU unique is also the thing that puts them in a unique crisis: because it has become so much easier for an audience member to be weighed down by the sheer size of these interconnected offerings.

It’s also important to remember the way Endgame potentially affects all of this discussion. I admit that I kind of gave the MCU a tough time for the slooooooooow burn toward Thanos and the seemingly endless confrontations over the infinity stones over a whole three whole phases. But however I felt about the prolonged tease, it’s hard to argue with the results. Becuase it really did give a sense of direction with the overall universe. Specifically the idea that we were building to something massive, which, love em or hate em, Infinity War and Endgame definitely were. But now that it’s over, the downsides of that approach perhaps start to feel more apparent. Without the constant tease to a singular big bad entity, phase four has felt oddly directionless. Sure, we’re getting more threats and more characters, all a part of a vast ever expanding universe(s), but what’s truly bringing it all together? Are these multiverse team ups enough? Does everything have to be like No Way Home to sustain interest? Or will the endless teaming up only stretch it more thin?

This feels like it reveals the other downside of the Thanos approach, which is how little the MCU has prepared us for big transitions. During the first three phases there were no real giant losses, nor startling consequences, nor big shifts in direction (especially, when, say a movie like Ultron would have been a perfect spot to have meaningful goodbye, along with creating new paths). Instead they held on so tight to everyone involved. And now that we’re finally in a Steve Rogers-and-Tony Stark-less universe, we’re hitting those questions they’ve put off for so long: can they move us forward with real purpose? Or, given the sheer glut of new material, perhaps the question for the MCU is more existential…

“How do you keep something special forever?”

It’s an incredibly difficult thing to do, after all. All part of why other franchises often like to find their natural endpoints. But to their credit, I think the MCU has at least tried on a conceptual level to expand into something different. After coming up woefully short on diversity for much of the first few phases, the incredible Best-Picture-Nominated Black Panther rightfully broke the damn door down. And films Captain Marvel, Black Widow, Eternals, and Shang-Chi (which is probably my favorite of the most recent crop) made good on said efforts to make their superheroes actually look like the spectrum of the world. But the “keeping it special” question still hits so much harder with the Disney Plus element involved. Because it’s far easier to create a sense of a “big event” when it’s a tentpole film. But television is smaller by its very nature. It’s a medium where the whole goal is to welcome something into your living room for the weekly bit of excitement and comfort. Plus, it brings new challenges whether it be budget limitations, being on a channel not everyone has, or the fundamental changes of narrative understanding in order to tell longer stories. Heck, you really need to understand what an episode of television even “is” in order to make it really compelling. But - and this is critical - there is also the huge opportunity to use the format's advantages to make something that feels distinct, different and deeper. You just have to really commit.

Thus far, there seems to have been positives and negatives with every MCU show (many of which I wrote about under this tag). WandaVision managed to cryptically tease its way into the zeitgeist, but I argue it ultimately collapsed under the weight of its own intrigue. But however I felt about the writing and sitcom integration, I admit it really did get to offer that “different” thing and show its great performers having fun. Falcon and Winter Soldier on the other hand tried to tell its story, but often seemed to be positively running from the solid buddy cop chemistry of their two leads and ultimately sunk itself with mush-mouthed, woefully-status-quo-centrist politics in a story that should have been anything but. Hawkeye had the real advantage of telling a straightforward story that played into the fun and games of it all (boosted by a fun appearance by Florence Pugh Pugh), but it too got trapped in underwhelming Kingpin shenanigans that highlighted a whole lack of setups and payoffs in getting there. But the one that sticks out in my mind is weirdly Loki, which descended into the all-too-familiar tactics of withholding and teasing, all before actually paying off with the finale that I thought was damn great and full of consequence. Better yet, it felt like giving a sense of direction and establishing the multiverse story architecture that the rest of the movies would follow. I even wrote about such a prognostication here. I was delighted that instead of the MCU waiting for the big bad to wreak havoc, “the storm is here.” Unfortunately, the storm never showed back up. And while we’re on the subject, is the fact that the multiverse rules are DIFFERENT in every story going to get dealt with meaningfully or hand-waved like so much else?

But more than anything there’s this sense of letdown that comes from the cumulative nature of all of it put together. You want there to be this sense of building, but instead it feels like a lot of treading water. For instance, I know it’s the “safe” choice in drawing viewers, but none of these shows actually feature NEW characters. In fact, some are so well established and have had complete character arcs (like Loki) so they’re only telling stories that are about recycling the same sense of purpose. I mean, Past Loki literally had to watch a screening of his life play out so the audience could cheat and be like “he’s that guy now too I guess.” Again, the opportunity of all of this is to go distinct, different, and deeper. And I haven’t really felt much joy in “the new” that was promised in all this. And whether it’s fair to the MCU or not, I got so burned out by that OTHER franchise with the release of The Book of Boba Fett and especially Obi-Wan Kenobi, that I had to take a break from Disney Plus on the whole. It’s an essential problem with branding your service around event franchise storytelling. Because nobody wants to write about “big time” beloved things from the place of burnout. You want to be fair and excited, if not at least curious. But now that I’ve had some time, I felt ready to come back. Especially because I had heard good things about Ms. Marvel. And I’m glad I did come back. Because it’s hands down the best show they’ve done yet. And probably the best thing of this entire phase four?

And as always, I want to talk about why.

But before I get into one bit of appraisal, it comes with a consideration of the fulcrum that definitely exists when watching a show like this…

THE BUTTON

I find that I’ve been writing more and more about the subject of who a movie is “for” because Hollywood finally seems to be cluing into the fact that there is a mass audience for people who aren’t white males. I know! Who woulda thunk! But this is also important because younger audiences are genuinely interested in art that represents all different kinds of people across the spectrum. But it’s at this particular intersection that you realize just how much popcorn fare of the past is designed to satisfy a certain audience member with an indulgent sense of reward. I don’t really say that cynically, it’s just acknowledging there’s this little button of personal satisfaction that gets hit in our brains when we watch something that makes us feel empowered. It’s why superheroes make us feel good. And this is where the 1:1 of feeling truly connected to a certain character comes into play. Cue the seeming revelation of how many women found themselves crying during the Wonder Woman fight scenes because you realize how few movies actually do fights in a celebratory heroic way (as opposed to “badass” female side character with zero personality or something). I also remember tweets being like “is this how guys feel all the time?! I WANT TO FIGHT A HUNDRED DUDES!” Yes, this is about that proverbial button. This empowering emotion of popcorn action is a very real thing. And it plays into the discourse in a very real way.

To wit, when it comes to people who dismiss art that’s “not for them,” yes, there are your garden variety racists who hate this shit sight unseen and seem to make a career of hating it. This weirdly speaks to what I’m saying though because as if they literally want to monopolize the empowering nature of popular art. But aside from them, there are still some general audiences who support the expansive nature of popular art, but seemingly can’t get into these “less-general” popcorn stories because on a subconscious level it doesn’t play into their “hit my button!” dynamic. They may not realize that that’s what is failing to rouse them, just as they probably don’t realize how much it is a crucial part of how they consume a lot of popcorn movies. But for some folks, they’ll just never get past that barrier. Especially when a movie like Captain Marvel plays up to the big catharsis of how Carol Danvers actually doesn’t care what a man thinks of her (which hits so many men as subconscious dismissal). But what that means is that it’s a failure to realize how completely cathartic a button push that would be for the intended audience. It, like so many forms of catharsis, is a fulcrum point for two different audiences. And if you are going to be fair in your evaluation in any way, you 1) have to understand how these fulcrums function and 2) have to find catharsis in others having catharsis.

Because these kinds of push / pulls exist everywhere. And I don’t think they reveal some hyper form of abject sexism or racism within a person (though they obviously can). I think these story choices instead highlight the subtle, but important difference between empathy (where it feels like your personal experience) and sympathy (where you take pity on another). For instance, it’s why white straight audiences get really emotional about the misfortune of minorities or gay love stories that end in tragedy. They are watching from a place of sympathy. They get to go “gosh that’s so awful” or even think “I’m better” than that horrible bigo character. And because many of those stories take place in the past, they even get to feel better about how the world has seemingly gotten a little bit better (even if so many core problems remain). In telling stories about minority cultures, they so often defer to sadness because it pulls at the sympathetic heart. But stories about those same cultures with happy endings? Oh, why oh why would the general audience care about their joy? What personal button gets pushed for them if that’s what happens?!? You can see the problem here. And it’s why combating things like the “bury your gays” trope is so important. Because for queer people it means finally getting stories that aren’t telling you that you’re doomed. And isn’t that who it really should be for?.

I think understanding all this matters so damn much. Not just because it deeply affects what is made by Hollywood, but because I think it can be so much more helpful to go from “sympathy watching” to “empathy watching.” We talk about cinema having the power to make you “walk a mile in another person’s shoes,” but that only works if you actually buy into the empathy part. If you can look at someone like, sas, Carol Danvers and even if you’re a dude, you have to find the part of you can watch and think “that’s me.” Because people who are not white males have spent a lifetime consuming media and practicing this. It’s as natural as breathing. And quite frankly, it’s almost absurd that so many members of the general audience never learned to. But now we’re finally getting more subcultural tentpoles in the popular zeitgeist, developing this skill matters more than ever. Which is honestly a part of how revelatory it feels to have genuine superhero stories actually exploring these kinds of joyful, button-pushing catharsis. But in order to celebrate it, you have to understand that fulcrum.

Please know I’m not even trying to pretend like I’m any good at doing this. Maybe I'm getting so, so much wrong here. I just know it’s important to try and talk about it, even if I fall on my face. You have to understand that any conversations about craft are only half of the equation. You have to meet them halfway and get outside yourself. You have to see the way this framework hangs over everything in popcorn filmmaking. You have to try to navigate with as much awareness as possible and constantly try to expand that awareness in turn.  Especially when the craft of the thing is absolutely excellent.

Which finally brings us to …

MS. MARVEL’s GRAND ENTRANCE

Ms. Marvel is honestly so good at just about everything.

But I’ll admit that the first twenty minutes or so are so eager to “wow” you that everything’s operating on overload. To the point that I was kind of worried. It’s just throwing as much energy and goofs and rapid camera movement as possible. Which is an understandable instinct, especially as they’re trying to declare the show’s grand cinematic ambitions from the very start. But the problem is that in all that surface posturing, it’s a little hard to get the initial character dynamics and find our footing with the baseline reality. But the second it calms down halfway through the episode? Hoo boy, suddenly it all starts to unfold with aplomb. And if you want to deep dive into every episode and examine the skill of the storytelling and veracity of the show’s insight into aspects of South Asian culture, there are few better than Siddhant Adlakhah and his recaps right here. And as the audience member on the proverbial “outside,” I’m so blown away in turn.

For starters, let’s talk about the show’s methodology of subcultural presentation. I love how much Ms. Marvel understands that it’s not just about making in-references for the intended audiences, nor is it about dry explanation to outsiders. Instead, so much cultural representation is layered into conversational jokes, often with simple four line exchanges (even six line exchanges start to feel a bit more like telling instead of showing). For instance, I know Eid generally is, but they play right into an organic joke where the white audience surrogate figure (Bruno) feels like Eid just happened and that’s how he (and I) learn there are two Eids within a year, including a lesser version. It sounds so silly to harp on it, but this is such a good, clean example of how to speak to both audiences in a fun and endearing way. Likewise, the daily reality of the mosque is brought to life with playful, but pointed interactions about hierarchies and partitions (hint hint of future theme) and even the unfortunate realities of shoe thieves.

Even the series' gorgeous, colorful look (thank GOD the MCU finally let this happen) is emblematic of the very cultural aesthetic it is celebrating. Again, they know how to make great jokes about this, like when Bruno asks: “It’s not too bright?”  and the mom deadpans: “I don’t understand that question.” I know I keep using that word “playful,” but it’s such a critical part of the show’s modus operandi. Because it’s light, but it’s also earnest. Even when it comes to self-effacing jokes like how the Pakistani goodbye is to “overstay your welcome and ask if you can take home food.” Even its pointed jokes about how converts are “technically the reverts” seem to come from a place of good nature. So when the more fun overt stylings of calling one of the mosque voting blocs the “the illumin-aunties,” could come off a bit too mawkish, it instead feels so organic because it’s integrated directly into the story. The whole point is that these jokes aren’t distractions, nor delays, nor tone-lighteners. They are a key part of how the authors tell the story and how they share their world.

Moreover, Ms. Marvel implicitly understands that no one person can represent everyone. In a lot of screenwriting, you’re taught about “addition by subtraction” because a lot of times you want to pare down the amount of characters to really focus on the core relationships of the story. But when it comes to these big properties that don’t have to just be entertaining, but seemingly have to represent a culture, as well? Well, this show seemingly takes the same lesson that came from Black Panther and the method of “addition by addition.” In that it strives to give us so many different kinds of characters because no ethnic group or culture is a monolith. Wakanda is just as integral to the story as Oakland, especially when it comes to the diasporas within modern culture. Which is the joy in getting to see so many different kinds of (well realized) characters show up in Ms. Marvel. There’s Nakia, half arabic and fighting for her identity and selfhood while trying to change things within the mosque. There’s Tyesha, who is muslim, but not Pakistani and yet is utterly welcomed as Aamir’s bride to be. There’s just so much joy and love and familiarity and community between the leaders and aunties and Nanis and cousins in Pakistan and, like, so many cute boys that Kamala can flirt with. Here, the over-stuffing is the point. Because it makes the world feel lived in and full and capable of going in so many directions. It’s a perfect example of addition by addition.

And the thing I like about so many of these details is the way they are woven into scenes. Sure, Ms. Marvel is completely uninterested in subtlety. But as I often say there is no more overrated quality of appraisal in cinema than that of subtlety (especially as they are often the mark of an artist trying to hide behind vagaries). Instead, Ms. Marvel showcases a clear, but deft hand. Rarely does it stop to lecture or instruct. Instead, it hits these kinds of insights quickly and often with a funny, conflict filled exchange before progressing the story forward. Especially when dealing with hot button political topics, like the moment all the members of the mosque have their IDs ready to go with government shows up (“this is not our first rodeo”) and the way they use the bomb-assumptions against them in the finale. Because it’s so efficient and assured, it allows lines like “I don’t need anyone on my side” and the discussion of god to hit so much harder. It’s also emblematic of how the show is so smart about being inclusive (in the way that it allows me, an outsider to fully understand), but still ultimately uncaring about satisfying the “white gaze” (as a point of comparison, I worry Falcon and Winter Soldier was way too worried about upsetting the white gaze by the finale). It’s just gonna keep hitting its pointed bullseyes as it goes about its business of telling the story.

Granted, all of this would simply be “nice” if the show didn’t understand the larger story mechanics of plotting, but that is not a worry here. Because Ms. Marvel always knows exactly where the conflict is between characters in a given scene. That may seem like a small thing, but it’s everything. It’s what gives a scene a sense of purpose and the character / audience a goal of what they want to see happen within the scene. And because of this understanding, so rarely does the show feel like it has to ratchet up the energy with outside pressure or ticking clocks or other artificial conflicts. Instead, it trusts itself. It gets to take its time and actually dramatize character relationships instead of being in a rush to throw them somewhere else. To wit, notice how rarely the show relies on “banter” while they look for a doohicky (an MCU favorite tactic). Even the big familiar tropes of the MCU - like the flashback in episode five - works so much better because it didn’t feel like something I was expecting. That’s because there wasn’t some endless cryptic tease where I felt like they were intentionally hiding something. Instead, we got all the information we needed to understand the train sequence pretty early on - and thus the flashback instead operates as a clever misdirect. It’s all so damn simple and functional on the story level. So while I know people love to point at the overall shape of this season and how it’s kind of like some other show, for the five billionth time, structural writing isn’t about “overall” shape. It’s how we move characters from scene to scene with internal purpose en route to a larger, more satisfying emotional journey.

Luckily for us, Kamala’s journey is so well realized. Actress Iman Vellani brings so much range and depth to the clear characterization that’s on the page. It’s easy to look at popular MCU actors and identify them by their “fastball,” whether it be RDJ’s rhythmic cadence or Chris Hemsworth’s himbo-like lack of awareness, but Vellani’s playing in a space that feels less specialized, but so much more complete. Yes, she has good low-key comic timing, but the devil’s in the details. Note all the ways she often uses underplayed irreverence to avoid conflicts or responsibility, but simultaneously shows the abject willingness to be a huge dork with the things she cares about. Better yet, she’s fallible, whether it’s comic (like the great gag where she’s bad at throwing the knife back) or serious (like when she drops the kid at the end). She gets to play her full range of emotions right on the surface, especially when she’s trying to hide them. So even when she gets to be bashful and shy, her “fastball” is that she’s one of the first Marvel heroes that feels completely unguarded. It's all a part of this critical vulnerability to the character and the pains of growing up.

Most importantly, Ms. Marvel understands that all storytelling is ultimately about relationships and boy are there so many full options to choose from. But it’s her mother Muneeba (played by Zenobia Shroff) who gives my favorite performance in the show, probably because it’s the kind of performance that rarely gets recognized. But she has to carry all the conflict and tension of the story and does so with so many humane glints and glimmers of a person who wants only good and kind things. And like most great stories of familial relationships, the conflict goes back to her own past, to her own mother, and thus their mutual journeys bring them to a place of understanding the wholeness of the other. In the end, it’s the all too common tale about how parents are rarely ready to give up a kid's childhood, so it’s only a question of when they learn to let go. But the way it all gets dotted with beautiful little lines from her Mother and her own pains about leaving home where she says “I found my family and I let them love me,” which reveals a whole adult pathology that’s informative to Kamala’s own journey to come.

I saw someone remark that because the show resolves their relationship in episode five, it makes episode six feel like the usual MCU empty climax shenanigans. And with another show, I may agree. But their resolution in episode five is not only what makes THAT episode so satisfying, it’s precisely what gives Kamala the strength for larger catharsis now. Particularly as it all comes full circle to the moment of her mother making the costume (which is such an earned payoff from the first episode). Moreover, there are so many of Kamala’s own personal relationships that she still has to complete her arcs with. Which is why it’s so smart that it all gets concentrated back in the high school with all the characters in tow and the pointed small stakes of getting one person to safety. There are so many smart little execution things in the process. Like making the Damage Control agent go rogue allows for a heavier threat. And having their big plan essentially be a fun hoodie version of “amigos amigos amigos” allows for so much smart commentary. There’s fights and baseballs and apologies and almost kisses. But better yet, the finale has important resolutions for characters outside of Kamala herself.

It’s Nakia taking more ownership of the mosque. It’s Bruno and Kamran making a kind of peace with each other and apologizing for getting his name wrong (and the same will go for cute dagger boy). Note how the show is never trying to put someone in the space of being good or evil. As it outright tells us, “good is not who you are, it is a thing that you do.” And the same goes for evil, too. Najma isn’t uncaring, nor evil. And Kamran is a sensitive soul turned angry, scared, afflicted, and in need of help. They just know Damage Control will not be the place to fix it. In the finale, Kamala makes so many important choices in this episode that it’s critical to her own journey. Because in the end, it’s not a story about Kamala earning her mother’s support. It’s the story of how her mother’s support ultimately gives Kamala what she needs to go out into the world and find for her own selfhood, even if it takes her into the heart of adventure. But it’s a complete, ever moving process. One that evokes my favorite line from Nani about her own growth, even at a ripe old age… Kamala: “Do you think you’re ever going to figure it out?”

Nani: “What’s the rush?”

It’s all emblematic of one of my favorite things in storytelling, which is when a movie or tv show is so in tune to what it’s saying thematically that everything feels like an organic extension of the core ideas. Which is great because Ms. Marvel is absolutely about something in a larger sense and it holds up its main metaphor completely. I know that makes it sound a little academic, but as an audience, it’s something we always end up understanding instinctively. Ms. Marvel tells the story of Partition, something I honestly only had passing historical familiarity with, but this is one of the few times I’ve ever seen it dealt with in western media? (I’d love to hear about any others). But the show sheds so much light on how much this has to do with the Pakistani identity around the world, especially in terms of the scars, lasting trauma, and generational divides that still exist today. As her mother explains, it’s all about “being split between two words.”

In terms of basic life, this doubles as Kamala’s experience as a Pakistani American, having to go in and out of two cultures, often struggling to find the sweet spot in between. It’s an experience that’s likewise true of her mother, moving to a new country. It’s likewise true in other specific ways for Nakia, who implicitly feels like she is viewed as “half” a muslim. Likewise, it’s also true of Kamala’s split life as a superhero. And like most good comic stories, it’s also true of the Djinn AKA The Clandestines (aka “explicit secrets”). This is the thing where the villains represent the toxic way of dealing with the same core struggle that the heroes are dealing with. For them, they cannot consolidate the idea of being in two worlds. For them, the idea of going back home - to the place before the trauma of change - is so desirable that they will do it at any cost, regardless of who gets hurt. Which is why it will literally consume them. It’s all part of the age-old lesson that you can’t go back. Things happen and the world gets split in two and we can do our best to not live with the divides, but make peace with them. For if you try to create even more splits in the name of “being whole” it is only the path of self-destruction. There’s a reason they die the moment they touch the border. Just as they say there’s a reason all these borders are “marked by blood and pain.” And yeah, the moment where Kamran’s mother Najma dies and transfers those powers to him may not be “logical,” but neither is wishing on a star or any other fablistic story device.

What it is, is a thematically clear representation of how one generation will use hate, loss, and self-sacrifice to try and push the power of that hate along to their next of kin. It’s all a part of the clear metaphor of blood will have blood. That is, unless we stop the cycle. Which is exactly why Kamala’s “going back” in time is so thematically important as a counterpoint. She’s not there to undo partition or change inevitable history. She’s there to bear witness. To understand what happened to her great grandmother, to celebrate how she tries to make her life here, and to give her peace in goodbye. And with that very understanding, it helps save her young grandmother in the process. This is closing an essential loop of self-understanding with the family. The telling line of “what you seek is seeking you” isn’t about some fatalistic property, it is the psychological understanding that all these pieces of history and healing are right there with all yourselves. You just have to all really understand (and accept) where you are all coming from. This is the real “magic” of the bangle. And it’s really quite a beautiful way to join the personal stories with the core thematic thrust of the battle at hand.

Which all brings us back to the question Ms. Marvel and Kamala’s understanding of her own place in the world. I admit, I’ve had a lot of problems with the “big fan” talk in a lot of the latest MCU properties because it feels… odd? Like I get that they’re superheroes, but the second you do it on screen it hits the inevitable intersection of the military of it all and it feels like the modern parable is like being a “big fan” of a cop or someone on an elite seal team or something??? I dunno if that makes sense. But what works about this version is how much Kamala’s adoration of Captain Marvel is ultimately about her own growth into someone rather different. Early in the show they spent so much time putting a button on how characters view themselves within some larger narrative that the world has set for them (often with funny lines like, “you’re the lead character and I’m Meryl Streep”). They are made to be seen as outsiders, the kind who could never be heroes. But the thing that I love is how much every supporting character operates from their own internal space of wants and needs. They aren’t pure extensions and reflections of Kamala. It’s a show full of main characters, showing a worldview that is so much bigger than the hero herself. Which is why backs up that notion with lines like “that bangle is made for something bigger than you,” which is something I feel Tony Stark would take as an insult, but Kamala would understand implicitly.

Which speaks to the show’s sense of distinct, different, and deeper storytelling. To wit, I often ask a certain question of properties like this, which is “what’s the story if the [genre thing] doesn’t happen?” To Ms. Marvel’s credit, I think it would be a terrifically entertaining story of a young girl, coming into her own, navigating family trauma and new love and getting to the same point of growing up and understanding that “there is no normal” in our adult adventures, whether it’s following Jon Bon Jovi on tour or joining The Avengers. For that, and for so much more…

Ms. Marvel is something I truly adored.

THE ANSWER

Look, if you didn’t like Ms. Marvel, that’s fine. Really. I’m certainly not going to cast aspersions. I’ve long realized all I can do in criticism is present the big whole case of why I loved it and hopefully that knocks something loose. Sometimes it even just helps clarify your own disagreements and that’s great, too. But a lot of times I write these things because I’m doing it for me, too. It’s all about digging a bit deeper, or putting alternative answers together, especially if what hangs us up tends to be about logic (when we get hung up on certain logic things it tends to be an indicator of deeper feelings we have going on). Or hey, maybe it was part of the same cumulative burnout that prevented me from seeing the show for so long. But with its rousing success, it all brings back to that essential question…

“How do you keep something special forever?”

Well, the simple incontrovertible truth is that you can’t. You can’t make something special forever. But if you are lucky enough, and surrounded by talented artists, you can make it good. In a world full of fickle audiences, it’s the one thing you can control. Or at least try to control. And then hope every ounce of love and thoughtfulness comes through in your work. To that, I must say what creator Bisha K. Ali and a whole slew of writers and directors have done with this show is something remarkable. You can feel all that love so succinctly. And while it’s perhaps too hard to make a whole genre or franchise feel special again, they absolutely succeeded in making their own little thing feel as special as possible. So I’m happy to say that Ms. Marvel lit a fire back under me and the upside potential for all of this stuff.

So yeah, I’ll be catching up on She-Hulk and gonna watch MoonKnight. Even when it comes to Star Wars, I really am hoping that Andor is going to be good. As much as cynicism and fatigue can come for us all, I want these popular things to be good. I really do. Because, as I always say, I like to connect to things that a lot of people watch and keep the watercooler thing going (though I just realized watercooler talk probably has as much relate-ability in 2022 as the save disk icon has on the toolbar). To that, I’m just happy that Ms. Marvel was great. It’s one of the few Disney Plus offerings where I can genuinely say that…

I wish I had watched it sooner.

<3HULK