I’m going to make an effort to be more assiduous in tracking my non-book entertainment here. We very much enjoyed two TV series made last year which we watched this year, one SF on Apple TV, one historical on Netflix.

Plur1bus is a tremendously well implemented vision of a future where some alien force has has merged humanity into a single group consciousness, and our protagonist, romantasy novelist Carol (played very effectively by Rhea Seehorn, who I had not seen before) is one of a very small number of people worldwide who are immune.

Carol hates people in general – her lover is killed off in the first episode – and she hates her own writing, describing her new book as “like a bad episode of Star Trek“. But she eventually becomes motivated to try and find a way back for humanity, and by the end of the first series is talking to another of the survivors about how to do that. (Great Guardian interview with Rhea Seehorn.)

The Economist has a piece looking at the show as a parable on economics:

What the Plurbs cannot replicate is true rivalry. Its absence no doubt spares their economy from waste, redundancy and foolishness. But it also limits the scope for progress. However much wisdom they collectively possess, the Joined will also need to learn from trial and error. Although they can presumably run polite, collegial experiments to test alternative economic strategies, none of them can pursue a strategy with the kind of blinkered, eccentric conviction that characterises many of capitalism’s most successful entrepreneurs. The economy often makes progress through rare, successful attempts to defy collective wisdom. And to defy collective wisdom, it helps to be immune to it.

Most of it is set in Albuquerque, with excursions elsewhere, and a filming dynamic that totally reinforces Carol’s isolation among the rest of her species. The merged humanity is incapable of cruelty, or of lying, but also incapable of creativity; so the food starts running out (apart from the Soylent Green solution), and Carol’s novels become the only new art produced in the world. (There is a grimly funny moment when Carol asks the collective brain what her spouse really thought of her writing, and gets an honest answer.) Some of the details are better not examined closely, but in general it’s a thought-provoking as well as an entertaining story.

Here’s the trailer.

I expect to see the series as a whole, or perhaps just the first episode, “We is Us”, on the Hugo ballot.

I don’t expect to see Death by Lightning on the Hugo ballot. It is a solid four-part Netflix series about the campaign, presidency and death of James Garfield, who served from March to September 1881; more especially it’s about his assassin, the deranged Charles Guiteau, played by Matthew Macfadyen with effective creepiness and passion combined.

Garfield is played by Michael Shannon, a completely different character from the evil colonel in The Shape of Water (he was also one of the sons in Knives Out). The other notable performances are Bradley Whitford, a welcome return from The West Wing, as James G. Blaine, Garfield’s Secretary of State; Betty Gilpin as Garfield’s wife Lucretia; and Shea Whigham as corrupt New York senator Roscoe Conkling, who enables Garfield’s rise and then wishes he hadn’t.

A special shout for Nick Offerman, in a great performance as Chester Arthur, who starts as Conkling’s sidekick, becomes Vice-President due to Garfield’s political necessity and thanks to Guiteau ends up in the top spot himself. He gets the best character arc of anyone, moving from boozy sub-boss to penitent reformer. In real life, Arthur had never fought an election before 1880, and may have been born in Canada which would have rendered him ineligible if it had ever been confirmed (the original Birther controversy). His father was from Cullybackey in County Antrim.

Macfadyen is mesmerising as Guiteau, but the ensemble is necessary to support the role. The script is terrific, somewhat updated to modern discourse (by which I mean that the characters all say “fuck” a lot) but also with knowing reference to the interaction between popular culture and politics today. Also Hungary puts on a very good act as nineteenth century America

Betsy Gilpin as Lucretia Garfield gets the last word, in a (totally fictional) visit to Guiteau shortly before his execution:

America may mourn him today, but as the years pass by, they’ll forget. And I can feel him waning away even now. In no time, he’ll just be another face on the wall. Lost to history.

But then again… So will you.

Here’s a trailer.

Those were both 2025 productions. In between watching them, we sat down to the 2003 remake of The Lion in Winter, starring Patrick Stewart (aged 63) and Glenn Close (aged 56). Of course, a director should feel full creative power to make the film they want to make, but I was a bit thrown by the change in dynamic compared to the original 1968 version with Peter O’Toole (aged 36) and Katherine Hepburn (aged 61). In 1183, when the story is explicitly set, Henry II was 50 and Eleanor of Aquitaine 59, so Peter O’Toole was 14 years younger and Patrick Stewart 13 years older than their historical counterpart. O’Toole always acted older than he really was (playing the older version of David Tennant in Casanova, he was only 72 but does a good mid-eighties), but Stewart always acts his exact age.

It is also difficult to surpass the supporting cast of the 1968 film, which included Antony Hopkins, in his first major film role, as Richard the Lionheart; Timothy Dalton, in his first ever film role, as Philip of France; and Nigel Terry as future King John. (And Jane Merrow as Alais and John Castle as Geoffrey are good mid-ranking actors too, Castle is particularly good in this.)

The 2003 version has Jonathan Rhys Meyers (Henry VIII in The Tudors) as King Philip, but the others are more mid-range: Andrew Stewart as Richard, John Light as Geoffrey, Rafe Spall as John and Julia Vysotskaya as Alais. Shining in a bit part is Clive Wood as William the Marshall (the solid Nigel Stock in the original).

Given the relative balance of talent, the 2003 film is dominated by Glenn Close, who has good chemistry with Patrick Stewart but is also magnetic on her own.

Of course he has a knife! I have a knife. We all have knives. It’s 1183 and we’re all barbarians!

Of the others, I felt Rafe Spall played John a bit too much for laughs, and it was difficult to see why either of his parents might want him to inherit. On the other hand, Julia Vysotskaya was a very believable Alais. (Her character is the lover of King Henry, almost thirty years older than her; in real life, she was and is married to the film’s director, Andrei Konchalovsky, who is thirty-six years older than her; perhaps this helped.)

It looks good; the music is good; but it’s not as good as the original. Here are the traiers; judge for yourself.