Welcome to The Crusades of a Critic, an infrequently updated review blog that's like a drunken hobo stuck in a video rental store. Created in 2009 as a way of solving the boredom of living alone - after the euphoria of near-constant wanking wore off - The Crusades of a Critic focused primarily on shite movies, video games, and music. Since then the increasingly redundantly named blog has expanded its approach with reviews of my favourite media.

Recurring elements in my reviews include surrealism, cynicism, nihilism, misanthropy, and obscure references that most people probably have to Google. The Crusades of a Critic officially celebrated its fifth birthday in July 2014. Making it almost as old as some of my t-shirts.

Need more Iron? Then you should probably see a dietitian! Bad jokes aside, I created and used to edit an alternative music webzine, which finished its run in 2014. From 2012 - 2014 I also wrote for What Culture.

For archived posts visit the categorised links above, or for the latest post(s) scroll down:

The Crusades of a Critic © 2009-2017 by Iron Criterion.
This material may not be reproduced without permission, lest I throw you in the Sarlacc Pit.

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story Review - All Your Base Are Belong to Us

The Star Wars saga’s opening theme and text crawl is one of those ubiquitous moments of cinema that even my mum (who doesn't 'do' films) recognises. I often find myself humming the said theme during innocuous tasks such as showering, or washing the pots, or sacrificing others in pagan rituals designed to appease Shub-Niggurath. So imagine my consternation when I went to see Rogue One: A Star Wars Story only to find it does away with the iconic opening and replaces it with…nothing. An act which rubbed me the wrong way; unlike wearing a pair of ill-fitting jeans while watching Women's Tennis.

Rogue One's lack of the iconic opening sequence serves as the perfect indicator of the producers' intentions. This film is what we in the business call filler an interquel - the support band sandwiched in between your mate's band and the band everyone actually came to see. It's the first of the (presumably) many spin-off Star Wars films ordained by Disney; a litmus test of sorts for them as they attempt to shake down the franchise for all the Pablo Escobar-esque stacks of money it can produce.

Well, three paragraphs in and you'd be forgiven for thinking my cynical tip-toeing around Rogue One means I didn't like the film. But I actually enjoyed Rogue One more than any other Star Wars film - including The Empire Strikes Back. I know, I'm losing my lunch money to some alpha-nerds tomorrow.

Set in the nebulous period between the Prequel and Original trilogies, Rogue One tells the previously unseen story of the rebellion's campaign to steal the Death Star plans from the Empire. A story we all already know will end with Alderaan's annihilation and the eventual destruction of the Death Star - or not if you're that girl I once dated who had never seen Star Wars. When dealing with such a well-established story, the term 'previously unseen' sets off all manner of alarm bells; like finding a camcorder, boxing glove, and a magazine about fisting hidden in a motel room.

Fortunately Rogue One is the good kind of spin-off; one which uses the source material as a launching point but ultimately does its own thing. Funny how that excuse never worked with any of my teachers.

The film has perhaps one of strongest opening scenes of the series. Some time after the end of Episode III: Revenge of the Sith the galaxy is at war, the Empire are feeling like Donald Trump on Inauguration Day, and the fear that Jar-Jar Binks may show up at some point permeates proceedings. Imperial officer Orson Krennic (Ben Mendelsohn) arrives on the planet where young protagonist Jyn Erso is hiding with her family, hoping to force Jyn's scientist father Galen (Mads Mikkelsen) into aiding the Empire's work on the Death Star.

Much like a giraffe giving birth on Space Mountain proceedings get rather messy quickly: Jyn's mother is killed, Galen is taken prisoner, and Jyn is forced to flee with Rebel extremist Saw Gerrera (Forest Whitaker). It's a surprisingly effective sequence which, like the opening from Inglorious Basterds, is far tenser than the rest of the movie itself.

Fifteen years later and Jyn (Felicity Jones), like all Star Wars protagonists, has become a scrappy Dickensian underdog who gets continually pissed on by society - as though she's a traffic warden about to hand out a ticket - but is destined to become the designated hero. Jyn's captured by the Empire and is en route to a slave camp when she's accidentally rescued by the A-Team a Rebel Alliance squad led by lovable rogue Cassian Andor (Diego Luna). Learning that the Rebels' plan to prevent the activation of the Death Star will give her a chance to rescue her father, Jyn decides to join the rebellion. Because Jyn was once asked what she was rebelling against and "what have you got," had already been taken.

Rogue One's writers (John Knoll and Gary Whitta) try hard at making the Rebel Alliance actually interesting this time around. I've always felt the Rebellion in the other films was a bit too Bob Geldof, rather hippy-dippy and operating entirely on good intentions. This was fine in the original trilogy, which had a setting lifted from old samurai movies and placed into a moral pluralist world of virtuous space-knights and evil space-wizards.

But Rogue One is the gritty older kid who once saw a dead body by the tracks; its world exists as a melting pot of criminals, outlaws, rogues, and desperate individuals forced together by the regressive rule of the Empire. We get to witness the Empire in action as oppressors of regular people a fair bit in this film (most notably the sack of holy Jedi city Jedha). Orson Krennic shulks around like the unholy offspring of Nigel Farage and Cancer Man from X-Files, being needlessly dickish to everyone he meets. Between him and CGI Grand Moff Tarkin war crimes are committed like they're going out of fashion.

So it makes sense that the Rebellion would be this morally ambiguous force. The Rebellion is filled with angry extremists and those who would do anything to stop the Empire, all forced through the crucible of war and oppression. Whitaker's Saw Gerrera character and his merry band of terrorists are exactly what the Rebellion should have been all along. They're a desert-cave dwelling guerrilla force willing to use any means to progress their cause, including torture via elder tentacle things. In essence, they're the Fremen from Frank Herbert's Dune - a novel the franchise has been cribbing off for decades.

The focus on the Rebels themselves allows Star Wars to finally emphasise the war part of its title. Maybe in the next one we'll finally find out why these stars are having fucking wars. A lack of Jedi characters means that The Force can't be used as a crutch - like whenever you had pretend fights at school and that one kid would use his everything proof shield -  so Rogue One plays out like a more conventional war movie. The finale in particular. There are a few tightly pitched skirmishes between Jyn's group and the Imperials throughout the movie, and more than a few references to the Storm Troopers lack of accuracy. You know how it goes: White men can't jump, Asians can't drive, and Storm Troopers can't shoot.

Aside from some of the most gratuitous cameos this side of The Hobbit films, Rogue One organically expands the Star Wars universe in a manner that the prequel trilogy simply didn't. For one thing the film attempts to provide an explanation for one of the most long-standing dubious plot points in Star Wars: the Death Star's unnecessarily obvious weakness.

Fans of A New Hope will know that movie ends with the Rebel Alliance engaged in an epic space battle with the Empire, as the Rebels attempt to destroy the Death Star via a vulnerable exhaust port. It may have been an iconic moment of the series but it didn't make a lot of sense. What kind of exhaust port sucks instead of blows? Maybe some kind of whore exhaust port, working the red light district trying to raise money for its sick kid's operation.

The writers for Rogue One explain this plot hole away by having this as a deliberate design choice by Galen; a simple act of defiance that's a bit like when you really hate your job, and instead of simply quitting you decide to just half-arse everything. As far as cementing over plot holes goes, Rogue One's writers are as smooth as a Tory MP trying to force his turgid nob down a rent boy's throat. But in the grand scheme of things, Rogue One is about small acts of defiance against an overwhelming power. Most of the movie is about the Rebellion acting secretly and defying the Empire however they can.

Overall, Rogue One sets a promising precedent for the Star Wars spin-offs. It's a strong entry in its own right, but it also complements the existing films. One can imagine that this will fit naturally during the obligatory May the 4th marathons, in a way that I just don't think the Han Solo film will. Rogue One's characters are particularly strong. Even Darth Vader, the series' recurring protagonist-cum-antagonist, gets his definitive scene in this movie, where he finally gets to demonstrate his unrelenting power. The new characters are three dimensional enough to serve a 21st Century movie, and yet with the usual sassy Star Wars style. There's even a snarky robot to serve as the comedy relief. In Star Wars films, the robot is basically the fat girl from an Eighties comedy.

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Crystal Castle Review (Guest Review) - Humming the Crystal Maze Theme

It’s rare that a book jumps out at me and goes straight to the top of my ever-increasing 'stuff to-read' list. At this point, I'm pretty sure that list is going to outlive me. However about a month ago, the release of a book called Crystal Castle came to my attention. I gave it a read, and as you, my ever attentive reader, value my opinion so much (feel the sarcasm), I thought I'd give my two pence.

The first novel by John D. Ashton, from West Yorkshire, England, is a fantasy adventure wherein a handful of strangers find themselves in a strange land where they're led into battling a great evil. I don't read much fantasy, not since my family were killed by Orcs, but I thought it sounded like a pretty rad premise, and it's good to delve back into the genre once in a while, like how Rambo occasionally delves back in the The 'Nam.

The eponymous castle is the main evil, and the book opens very strong with one of the troupe recounting some legends of it. The castle is shrouded in mystery and some doubt it even exists.  That is until the castle shows up, drops from the sky, and crushes the kid to death. That's right: castle lands on the kid and kills him in the opening chapter. It's mental. I had to see where this rabbit-hole went. After Johnny's death, we're introduced to Janice and Jason, who also die by the end of their respective chapters. They all find themselves alive again and in the middle of a desert with a man named Gabriel waiting for them. This man's the selling point of the whole book, their guide through this world, and ours, and while not the progenitor of their transportation, the fates guided him to them the same way they were guided to him.

Over the course of the adventure they face off native monsters, environmental dangers, and evil abominations. The kind of evil they encounter has a 'sword and sandal' feel to it: giant elephants, giant man-eating birds, and a skeleton army straight out of Jason & The Argonauts. Though not exclusively, the world of New Earth has a post-cataclysmic, western feel to it. Like what civilisation there was collapsed long ago as the Crystal Castle absorbed the very life from the ground, drying it up into a husk.

The story does a good job of keeping pace. There are moments of stillness where the troupe sit around and chat, but it doesn't drone on so long it becomes a chore. If anything, I want to know more about the characters and the world they find themselves in, but the narrative doesn't get bogged down with reams of Dickensian garbage and over-description. At no point are there any florid sentences or big words thrown in just to make the author feel good about himself, thankfully.  It tells me what it is, and what it looks like. I can colour the rest in myself, which I can appreciate, because I hate being coddled by the narrative. It comes across a little formal at times, and sometimes overstates characters' actions, telling me what a character does, then why they did it, when I can figure out the why for myself. This is only on occasion though, as majority of the time its straight to the point.

As I said earlier, Gabriel is the main character. He's native to New Earth and he comes across as a lone gunslinger-type, a bearer of struggle who's no stranger to violence, similar to Roland Deschain from The Dark Tower. In fact, a lot of Crystal Castle reminded me of The Dark Tower: people from our world going to a dying otherworld, led by a lonely gunman on a quest to thwart mythical evil, but thankfully the similarities end there. John Ashton doesn't appear in the book as the crux of all creation, and he doesn't try to plagiarise just about every piece of everyone else's work that the 20th century put out. I digress.

Gabriel's a mysterious one. His past is only hinted at, but it’s clear that he's seen shit. He's gotten about. I'd have liked to have known more about his past: What he did for a living before his quest for the castle, how that mutant ended up with a piece of paper with Gabriel's own handwriting on it, and any previous adventures he may have had, but his intrigue is in his mystery-like that goth chick you saw in a nightclub once and you never had the balls to talk to.

Like Gabriel, the Crystal Castle is kept in mystery too. We learn very little about it. Why it exists, who, or why it was created. All we know is that it is evil. As we near the castle we are shown that it roots itself into the earth like a parasite, which is what I think explains the desolation of the world, and explains why it needs to be destroyed. While the lack of origin helps add to the mythical nature of it, it would have been nice to hear more legends, campfire tales from different characters maybe.  Something that adds to its sense of menace.

It's very subtle, but there's talk of fate in there too. The small coincidence of the band's names all starting with J, and them magically showing up, post-mortem, at Gabriel's camp. It hints that there are larger forces at work, and they do all decide to take it as a sign from on high, but what those signs are, are a mystery.

All in all the characters are interesting, and the variety of challenges they face is wide enough so that you never guess what's coming. There's a lot of depth in the story that, while it may not be on the surface, because the narrative doesn't shove it down your throat, you get a sense of the grander scale of things as you get further through the story, and closer to the Crystal Castle.

Buy the book here.