The Stinger

Interludes with in-universe or concept-aligned audio

Having interludes doesn’t necessarily make an album a concept album. However, many concept albums have interludes that contribute to the world-building aspect and the development of the overarching concept and themes of the album. The interludes should also be situated within the album to provide structure to the concept. 

An example of this is the interludes in the “Long Lost” album by Lord Huron, which is an album following the rediscovery of an old musical act. One interlude is called “(One Hellava Performer)” in which we hear a host introduce a performer and the audience clapping, and in the interlude “(Sing for Us Tonight),” we hear that same host ask the performer: “What would you like to sing for us tonight?” These audio clips are positioned throughout the album to remind listeners to go through the album sequentially to uphold the concept throughout the listening experience. We’re taking in the songs along with the crafted universe. 

“Dreamland” by Glass Animals also employs a similar technique. This album deconstructs childhood and adolescence in a dream-like, reflective haze. Throughout the album are “home movies,” which feature audio from home movies that the lead singer’s mother videotaped during his childhood. These home movies are scattered throughout the album to evoke nostalgia and to remind viewers of the central theme of growing up that the album is centered around. 

Thematic Visuals and Supplemental Materials

Many concept albums utilize thematic visuals through album covers, posters, concert designs, merchandise, music videos, and more. The best concept albums find a creative way to tie their concepts into creative elements for devoted fans to follow the threads and connect the stories together. 

Lord Huron has employed incredible supplemental materials and merchandise for several of the albums to support the story told through their concept albums. For their “Strange Trails” album, they produced a comic detailing the characters mentioned in songs throughout the album. They also produced a series of videos called “(Alive From Whispering Pines),” which is a variety show that features performances that appear in the “Long Lost” album.

In Glass Animals’ “How to Be a Human Being,” there’s a lineup of characters on the album cover, and each song on the album is dedicated to a separate character. Though we don’t know most of the characters’ names, we know the person in the center of the album with the camera is Agnes, whose song is last on the album. The music videos for the album all feature the characters to highlight their unique stories.

My Chemical Romance, a band with one of the highest-concept discographies ever, in our opinion, created a whole world in which their “Danger Days” album fits. This wasn’t entirely deliberate, as Gerard Way will tell you himself: “The Killjoys project is an interesting thing because it evolved and grew into this other thing. It was the thing I was most obsessed with, creatively, so it bled into the music. And then, it became a concept album and a comic. And I was hesitant to marry the two things because I felt like I had done such a good job of separating the two things.” The band’s 2010 album tells the battle of art vs. profit and how commercial success can hinder artistic expression and freedom. The comics that would later be released flesh out the characters of the Killjoys even further and build a world that properly contextualizes the songs and the tracks that feature Dr. Death Defying, who is seemingly a radio DJ telling the audience where they are in the story and catching them up on the characters’ journeys. In one interlude titled “Jet-Star and the Kobra Kid,” he tells us, in slightly coded language, that Killjoy members Jet-Star and Kobra Kid had a run-in with the antagonists of the story, Better Living Industries that had gone south and killed them. While there are slight deviations between each iteration of the story, the comics, album, as well as the music video for “Na Na Na” and “Sing,” which feature all members of the band playing different characters, establish a somewhat cohesive storyline.

Perhaps the most committed a musician can be to a concept is to create a series of interconnected music videos that, when watched together, tell a story complete with character arcs and a message, and that’s exactly what Fall Out Boy did on their first album after their infamous hiatus, “Save Rock and Roll.” Comprised of 11 tracks and videos, the concept album follows the band as they fight against a few gangs that want to eradicate music for different reasons, and it’s a crazy watch. A bonfire full of the band’s older memorabilia is set on fire by a flamethrower-wielding 2 Chainz. The band’s lead singer, Patrick Stump, gets his hand cut off and is conditioned to become violent when he hears music. The rest of the band dies off one by one as the series continues. Courtney Love, Big Sean, Foxes, and Elton John, who all feature on the album, also appear in the series (with Mötley Crüe drummer Tommy Lee making a cameo as the devil to Elton’s god). The entire series is interesting and plays like an independent short film with a stacked cast, and most importantly, showing the band’s determination to fulfill their album title to save rock and roll. 

Interconnected lyrics and songs

Arguably, this is the important part of any concept album. Having lyrics and songs that relate to one another is the most seamless way to uphold a concept during the listening experience. Lord Huron does this point masterfully, but considering that we’ve spent a lot of time already praising them, we’ll highlight some other notable albums and artists in this section. 

Bastille’s “Doom Days” album follows a party celebrating the end of the world. The song titles are all interconnected, following different points in the night. For example, the first song is “Quarter Past Midnight,” which marks the start of the party and the exact time it starts. Towards the end of the night is the song “4 am,” which is another marker for the time and indicates that the night is coming to a close. 

The narrative throughline of Tyler the Creator’s “IGOR” may not be evident upon first listen, which is fine – as a listener, the album is just as fun without knowledge of the story as it is with it. However, those who kept an eye out for the lyrics and are particularly good at putting things together can glean that the album tells the story of a character stuck in a love triangle when he starts dating a man whose relationship with both him and a girl he’s seeing is uncommitted, and how the main character moves on from the situation. The relationship is introduced in the opening track, “Earfquake,” and the story's conflict is established in “New Magic Wand”, where the main character tries to devise a plan to get the woman his sort-of boyfriend is also sort of seeing out of the picture. Character development occurs when the main character realizes his relationship is bad for him, as conveyed in “What’s Good.” Interspersed between these songs are quotes from comedian Jerrod Carmichael, who explains why the events of the story and the conflicts in the relationship are happening. This is an incredibly condensed retelling of the album as a complete work – if you want to dig deeper into the nuances of the narrative of this album, this article is a gold mine of analysis and information.

When I was younger, I remember having a hard time trying to describe the type of videos I watched. I did enjoy a good gaming video every now and then (yeah, they were mostly Markiplier videos), and I indulged in some sketch comedy channels, but most of the creators I watched just created content generically labeled as “Lifestyle” or “Culture.” Yet, I was relatively dissatisfied with that label because I didn’t think that label did any of the channels I watched justice. These “Lifestyle” creators often created videos in which they talk directly to the camera as if talking directly to the viewer, thus fostering an intimate sense of connection. The viewer then feels a sense of trust and loyalty in the creator and, therefore, why it was far more common for people to follow certain creators rather than watch certain content as people do nowadays. Additionally, the length of the videos around the time of the “Lifestyle” creator boom of the 2010s often ended up being around 10-20 minutes, which allows people to connect to these creators in bite-sized pieces or all-at-once binge-style, all up to the viewer’s choice. Thus, this creator becomes an “internet personality,” a character larger than life and a more curated version of the person behind the screen. 

During this boom, YouTube knew how important internet personalities and creators were to the platform. Popular creators were invited to be a part of the now-discontinued annual tradition of YouTube rewind, and some, such as Joey Graceffa with his “Escape the Night” series, had their projects supported monetarily through YouTube’s now-defunct premium streaming service YouTube Red at the time. At one point, there was even a Creator Store, a permanent installation in London that sold merch by British YouTubers until it closed post-pandemic. 

Nowadays, there’s a larger culture on YouTube around longer video essays and commentary that doesn’t necessarily require creators to share stories about their personal lives, so the need to establish creators as an “internet personality” isn’t inherent to the success of a creator. This can also be seen through the changing cultures around supporting creators; for example, Vidcon was a huge event where attendants could meet YouTube’s biggest creators in the 2010s, but now, most mainstream YouTubers don’t attend the event or engage with it in the same way many YouTubers were doing meet-and-greets at Vidcon in its early years. 

The decline of the prominence of internet personalities isn’t necessarily a bad phenomenon. The toxic side of perpetuating internet personalities resides primarily in the parasocial relationships viewers can form with creators. While most fans respected creators’ privacy, some people took their desire to grow closer to the creators much further and would often try to ship YouTubers or invade their privacy to confirm rumors about their personal lives. Though this sounds similar to how celebrities are treated, internet personalities tend to be more accessible via social media and through engaging with them directly on the videos’ comment sections, giving many people a false sense of control over these creators. It’s clear that these relationships become harmful for the creator, who can have difficulty untangling their personal life from the life they put online, especially when much of their content comes from sharing their life online. These relationships can also be unhealthy for the viewer, as the viewer builds an infallible trust in a human being who will inevitably make mistakes. 

One thing the show so great in its first season but has since abandoned for its second, is good and consistent pacing. The second season’s stories move at hyperspeed, leaving audiences little time to take any of it in before jumping to the next one. This is made even worse by the aforementioned rollout schedule. Two episodes that move at breakneck speeds every week is just not a sustainable way to maintain an engaged audience. To make things even worse, the characterizations of everyone on this show also fall victim to the atrocious pacing; no one had any actual room to grow and develop further, leaving the crew less like an ensemble of characters and more like cardboard cutouts of the characters that they used to be, often giving these ensemble characters lines that could easily be interchangeable between all of them. 

In addition to the pacing, the individual character development was confusing and inconsistent. For example, what the hell was going on with Oluwande and Jim? Jim’s new love interest, Archie, is underdeveloped and barely introduced, and the dynamic between these two characters that drew audiences in during the first season just somehow disappeared. To make matters worse, fan favorites such as Roach and Frenchie are nowhere as fleshed out as they were in the first season. For a show that claims to be ensemble-led, it sure seems like most of the crew members are mere cardboard cutouts of themselves – they feel like stand-ins for the characters that viewers had come to know and love in the first season, and not much development occurs with them. Sure, Frenchie becomes Ed’s second in command, but even that wasn’t treated with much fanfare. The only character that seems to get a full character development throughout the season is, surprisingly, Izzy, and even he dies in the end. So much of the experience of watching television is watching beloved characters adapt to situations and grow from them, and it was so frustrating not to have any of that this season. 

Here’s the point in the piece where everyone’s going to boo and throw tomatoes: we don’t think there needs to be a season 3. Season 2 left off on a pretty solid note, with all the storylines wrapped up, and getting the pirate crew back together for nostalgia and another season would feel superficial. Famously, shows that involve the central crew breaking apart and then deciding to make more seasons and thus scrambling to reconnect all these characters never perform well. Think about the last season of Parks and Recreation or season 3 of Mythic Quest. 

Also, we would be amiss if we didn’t address the Izzy Hands situation. Personally, we’re not the biggest fans of Izzy Hands as we see the centering of his storyline in attempts to appease fans as a pandering to white favoritism in a show that supposedly centers around queer and trans characters of color. His death in season 2 marks an important end to a storyline in the show, one that includes a resolution for Ed’s conflicts with his identity, and considering how intense fans can be about Izzy Hands, making a season 3 without him would piss a certain demographic of fans off. However, even if Izzy returns in flashbacks or visions or whatnot, it’d mostly be nostalgia-bait and feel inauthentic. 

I will admit that I’m guilty of buying into bare minimum queer representation, but so is the majority of online queer spaces. For example, I recently found out that Maeve and Aimee from Sex Education aren’t actually a sapphic couple as people on Twitter had somehow convinced me through their fancams. I recently had a similar realization with Loki and Mobius with the release of the new season of Loki. 

Look, I know I said that I’m not the biggest fan of Loki, so it was surprising that I gave the show a second chance. The main reason why I watched the first season in the first place was more out of obligation to keep up with the MCU, but for the second season, I only watched because I heard tons of people calling Loki and Mobius “queerbait” and pointing out the codependent nature of their relationship. However, three episodes into the new season, I noticed that it seems like, somehow, compared to the first season of Loki, the queer rep is abysmally lacking. 

Part of the reason could be that the first season of Loki was directed by Kate Herron, who identifies as queer and didn’t return for the second season. But even when she was at the helm, the only moment that canonized Loki’s bisexuality was a single line in which he said that he enjoyed the company of both princesses and princes. Lines like these is where the problem with a lot of mainstream queer representation lies: the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it phenomenon, coupled with the confirmed-in-external-interviews incidents. 

This has been a common debate for queer representation in media for a very long time and across many franchises, though they all noticeably, but unsurprisingly, seemed to be linked with Disney. In Star Wars, Lando’s pansexuality was only confirmed off screen and the scene of two women kissing at the end of Episode 9 was definitely a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment. Even in other Marvel media, America Chavez’s mention of her two moms and Valkyrie’s attraction to women were barely touched upon, merely throwaway lines that almost no one will remember once they leave the theater.

The one exception to this frustrating pattern is Phastos from Eternals. A central part of his identity is his queerness, mostly exemplified through his family life with his husband and his son. However, on the account of Eternals being a primarily ensemble movie, he isn’t the main focus and thus his storyline, in countries where LGBT censorship is extreme, was completely cut out. 

The argument for blink-and-you’ll-miss-it queer representation is that queerness shouldn’t be the central focus of queer characters because queerness is only one facet of identity. While this is true, queer representation should be spelled out on screen because queer representation has already been very discreet in the past and it’s time that queer representation is visible and essential to the story. Even if queerness is only one facet of a character’s identity, queerness is an inextricable part of the character that should be part of their development and story, embedded in ways that cannot be easily erased. 

To provide some context, the Star Wars sequel trilogy started with The Force Awakens, which featured Daisy Ridley as Rey, the first woman main protagonist in Star Wars movies, John Boyega as Finn, the first Black lead in Star Wars, and Oscar Isaac as Poe Dameron, the first Latino lead in Star Wars. In the second movie, The Last Jedi, Kelly Marie Tran was introduced as Rose Tico, the first Asian lead in Star Wars. Historically, Star Wars has never been an extremely diverse franchise, so having multiple people of color as leads in the sequel trilogy was a drastic change from the past. However, fan reactions varied as there were some fans who celebrated and happily embraced the diversity, while others resented the introduction of these new characters of color. These reactions intensified after the final movie, The Rise of Skywalker, led to people pointing out how terribly the characters of color had been handled throughout the trilogy.

Speaking personally, my reaction matched the latter – as someone who grew up watching Star Wars, I had always wished to see someone who looked like me in the movies, which is why I was excited when I saw Rose. Yet, when I went online, I found that thousands of people were harassing Kelly Marie Tran for her role, so much so that she had to delete social media. Similarly, John Boyega faced harassment from racist fans and has spoken out about facing mistreatment during his Star Wars experience. What’s more concerning about this situation is that Disney didn’t attempt to protect the actors of color from harassment. These actors had only been able to speak out about the harsh fan treatment and Disney’s mishandling after the series had concluded.

The split between the fandom as a result of the diversity in the sequel trilogy is a funhouse mirror version of the modern political scale. A large majority of people fall somewhere within the scale, and there are small but vocal conglomerates at the extreme ends of the spectrum. Vocal is an extremely important keyword to consider. Most people who watched The Last Jedi and didn’t really like Rose Tico probably weren’t writing angry comments online or making YouTube videos in their basements hating on Kelly Marie Tran, but those who did influenced why Rose Tico barely had any screentime in The Rise of Skywalker despite being a pivotal character in The Last Jedi. The main reason why for this decision, as well as every other decision Disney has made, is money. Attention from fans, whether bad or good, indicates the possible performance of the film at the box office.

This might not seem like a big deal when looking at the fandom up close and examining the individual takes on either side of the spectrum, but pulling back the lens to look at this as a whole, the fact that the reaction of a group of vocal fans can worsen the mishandling of diverse characters affects the movies that reach casual fans. While supporting actors of color and improving diverse representation in the movies might result in the loss of revenue from racist devotees, the positive social impact of supporting diverse would benefit the greater general audience, especially since Star Wars is such a large franchise that has an international reach. Especially considering how Star Wars is a story about fighting fascism and oppression, the franchise’s decision to allow oppressive ideals from scared conservatives to influence the direction of their movies is glumly ironic.

At its core, Good Omens is a show about morality and choice, and this only becomes more obvious during season 2. With the show’s thesis in mind, we can analyze how the entire season 2 has been constructed around these themes, and an additional theme of guilt, to cumulate into Aziraphale’s decision in the finale and how the finale of season 2 makes sense narratively and characteristically.

While this article is meant to defend Aziraphale and thoroughly explain his motivations, it’s also important to remember that this is our interpretation of Aziraphale as a character and Good Omens as a whole. Some people online may have different interpretations, and those can be valid too. Art like Good Omens, which explores a multitude of topics that are easily relatable to people, can be put into different contexts and, therefore, interpreted differently from person to person. The explanation we’re providing is our interpretation of the show from our perspective – we do this not to force people to agree but to offer our two cents into the discussion. We are not here to put down anyone’s theories or opinions (as much as we would love to) but to add more context to the show and engage in the conversation surrounding the finale.

Morality

“Even the children?” is a question that has been asked about Heaven’s decisions in both season 1 and season 2 during pivotal moments that reveal how Heaven may not be as entirely “good” as they claim they are. In the Job minisode, “A Companion to Owls,” the theme of morality is explored thoroughly by investigating the story of Job. The minisode illustrates how Heaven’s perceived benevolence actually brings great grief upon those they believe they are saving, highlighted specifically during the scene where the angels convince Job and his wife that replacing their three existing children with seven new ones is something to praise God for, and not something to mourn. Additionally, God, the all-mighty being who seems to have infallible logic that Heaven must unquestionably comply with, places a bet on Job that requires him to go through ruinous trials to prove that he will forever believe in God, even in the hardest times. This forces the viewers to question the saliency of intention, result, and values on the side that claims they are unequivocally good.

However, the main question of morality addressed in the minisode is told through Crowley and Aziraphale’s actions. Crowley tries to appear tough and ruthless by wrecking Job’s life by destroying everything he has and loves, including his goats and children. However, Aziraphale believes that Crowley isn’t as heartless as he seems. His suspicions are confirmed when Crowley reveals that he didn’t actually kill the goats and children and even goes so far as to ensure that the children return to Job safely. This softer side of Crowley reveals that just because he’s a demon, that doesn’t mean he’s inherently bad and that being evil looks a lot harder when there’s the presence of empathy. It’s up for interpretation whether Aziraphale believes this because of the fact that Crowley had once been an angel, too, or if he simply believes the best in everyone, even if he ostensibly claims that all demons are bad and all angels are good. Either way, this illustrated that the choices people make are not always based on who people think they should be but rather who they actually are, even if it is in defiance of their community’s expectations. The bottom line of Crowley’s character is also said in this minisode. When Aziraphale confronts him about saving the goats and children and asks if he was truly on Hell’s side, Crowley admits that he’s on his own side and goes along with Hell as far as he can. Unlike Aziraphale, Crowley is sure of the extent of his morality and feels liberated by his free will. He has been at peace with the fact that he doesn’t really belong in Hell, which has been established in the show’s first season when he says he Fell for asking questions and hanging with the wrong crowd. While he still insists on upholding his demonic reputation, he still wholeheartedly does good deeds, not because Hell or Heaven told him to, but because he knows it’s right.

The tables turn when Aziraphale is forced to confront whether he’s really as good as he claims he is, especially after he gives into Crowley’s temptation and eats food for the first time and then lies to Heaven about Job’s children, swearing on his angelic status that the three children are not his original children. Then, when Crowley finds him again, Aziraphale believes he’s going to Fall for lying, but Crowley tells him he won’t because he won’t tell anyone it ever happened. Still distraught, Aziraphale asks about what he truly is if he isn’t a pure angel anymore. Crowley echoes what he said about being on his own side, which is a much more isolating and lonely experience than he had made it out to be. Morality has become such a focal point for Aziraphale and Crowley’s existences to the point where they feel a loss of identity due to the uncertainty of whether their actions are morally right if it protects peace, a debate for humanity as old as time but a nonstarter for everyone else in Heaven and Hell. On the rock, facing the sea, Crowley repeats a line he had said the night before, but about Aziraphale: he’s just an angel who goes along with Heaven as far as he can. The loneliness that comes with their position has effectively alienated them from their respective head offices but also becomes one of the reasons why their existences are so intertwined with each other from this point forward.

The theme of morality is continued in the storyline of Maggie and Nina. The question of whether it is right for Crowley and Aziraphale to mess about in their lives even though Maggie loves Nina and Nina needs her gentle love after dealing with a toxic relationship is even explicitly addressed in the finale. Is it right to do something with good intentions and get the end results you wanted but not without putting those involved at stake? That large question remains unaddressed and hanging in the air for season 3 to attempt to answer.

Morality is often presented as black or white, good or bad, when in reality, it is much more like “shades of grey,” in the words of Crowley and Aziraphale in episode 4. They grapple with this during the body snatching minisode, going in circles about whether it’s right to dig up bodies if it's for survival or scientific advancement and what actions are justifiable as punishable. The punishment part is rather relevant because punishing someone is an inherently evil act; yet, if the intentions are good or protective, there is room for justification that it is morally correct. But the fault here is presenting the idea that being morally correct is the same as being objectively correct because perspective matters.

Ultimately, throughout all the flashback scenes and reflections presented in season 2, the show puts forth its thesis that the option of being either good or bad is a false dichotomy that systemically allows the justification of actions without considering the nuances and removing empathy and understanding from the equation. In this series, Hell and Heaven, especially, are the perpetrators of this false dichotomy, while Aziraphale and Crowley are attempting to grapple with the consequences of this polarity and trying to unlearn what they’ve believed all their lives.

Unfortunately, they aren’t quite at the same stages of the unlearning and healing process yet. From an external perspective, Aziraphale’s decision to become Supreme Archangel is harmful because he’s leaving behind the being he loves and possibly contributing to the destruction of the world. But from his perspective, it’s good because it gives him the opportunity to change Heaven’s faulty system and gives Crowley a chance to fully embrace his “good” side without being conflicted about appearing evil. His failure to recognize that this false dichotomy of good and bad is imperfect is the show’s way of proving–with the subtlety of hitting viewers on the head with a brick–that morality is not as simple as it seems.

(And it would be great if fans realized this too and stopped dogpiling on Aziraphale!)

Choice

When we refer to Aziraphale’s decision to return to Heaven, the keyword we need to consider is “decision.” Many fans have already started theorizing that the coffee that Metatron offered Aziraphale was spiked and that Aziraphale was coerced to say yes to his offer because he was essentially drugged. While there’s no saying whether this theory is right, if Aziraphale was truly drugged, it would make his decision to leave less emotionally powerful. What is the most painful part of the whole ordeal is that Aziraphale chose to leave Crowley out of his own will

However, it’s important to discuss how he was still manipulated into his decision. The Metatron knew that Aziraphale wouldn’t say yes to his offer if he didn’t bring Crowley into the equation (Aziraphale even says, “I don’t want to go back to Heaven” before the Metatron mentions Crowley). The glare the Metatron shoots Crowley as he walked out of the bookshop indicates that he knows that Crowley doesn’t want to go back to Heaven either, even if it's with Aziraphale. He essentially sweet talks Aziraphale into accepting his offer by acting as though he and Aziraphale are one of the “good ones” out of the batch of rotten apples when really, Aziraphale has never really been part of that batch at all, and the Metatron is perhaps the most rotten one out of all of them.

People must understand that the Metatron’s five-minute conversation wasn’t the sole reason Aziraphale had been convinced to rejoin Heaven but rather the cumulation of all the manipulation he has experienced for thousands of years; the factor of obligation to a harmful community is something that’s also heavily at play. The term “cycles of abuse” is often applied in a familial context, but it’s not addressed enough in a community context, even if it is just as common. For people to understand Aziraphale’s decision to return to Heaven even though they treated him like shit, they need to first understand what it’s like to live in a toxic community while also loving that community.

Aziraphale fiercely loved being an angel because he felt that was a large part of his identity, and therefore, the community in Heaven was a constant force in his life. Even if they treated him horribly, he always believed that they always did it out of love and goodness. That shouldn’t discount the fact that they always made him feel small or treated him horribly, but in Aziraphale’s mind, he could excuse their behavior if it meant he could belong.

Upon escaping from that community, Aziraphale struggled with finding his identity and what it means for him to no longer belong to where he had always been told he should be. So, of course, if there’s a chance for him to rejoin that community and hold enough power for them to love him without hurting him, he’ll take it because, with cycles of abuse, it’s impossible to fully ever abandon the community that has deeply hurt you without hoping that maybe they’ll change one day to love you and accept as you are. And since Aziraphale has sacrificed so much to appease the angels, it only makes sense to make one last insurmountable sacrifice to finally belong in the place he has always felt alienated from, even though he knows he’ll probably end up getting hurt again.

Additionally, Aziraphale conflates forgiveness with love because he’s great at forgiveness but not so experienced with love. When he allows Gabriel to stay in the bookshop even though Gabriel had mistreated him for centuries, Gabriel tells him, “I love you.” Obviously, Gabriel doesn’t mean it in a romantic context (and he may not have even understood what that phrase truly means in the amnesiac state he was in), but it’s likely that Aziraphale interpreted that phrase as “I forgive you,” and that because Gabriel no longer held a grudge against him for stopping the end of the world, he felt like he could be safe in Aziraphale’s presence. Again, this ties in with the idea of obligation to one’s community because even though Aziraphale could’ve easily cast out Gabriel and left him to fend for himself as Crowley suggested, he doesn’t because he has forgiven Gabriel and also feels like he’s finally appreciated by somebody who he desperately wanted appreciation from but only received harm from.

The tragedy of choice in this context isn’t that there isn’t a choice to love but rather that Aziraphale chooses the wrong kind of love believing that it’s the one that’ll alleviate all his past suffering.

Aziraphale also made the choice thinking that Crowley would come back to Heaven with him because he misunderstood what Crowley wants. In contrast to choosing to hold onto an idea of community and hope that there’s a chance of belonging, Crowley completely rejected the notion of choosing sides and chose Aziraphale. He doesn’t face the same disillusionment as Aziraphale because, unlike Aziraphale, he doesn’t have hope in the capacity of either community loving him without hurting him because he’s been a part of both and never belonged to either, no matter how hard he tried. It’s easier for Aziraphale, who’s only known one community all his life, to believe there’s still a chance for him to belong. It’s harder for Crowley to understand that Aziraphale wouldn’t be so quick to abandon his loyalty to “his side,” Therefore, the choices that Aziraphale and Crowley make are understandable in consideration of their pasts, beliefs, and desires because, for them, none of these aspects can align without sacrifice.

The debate of choice is inextricably linked with the discussion of Aziraphale and Crowley’s identity as an angel and demon because when it comes to humans, choice seems like an option for few as the universe appears to be largely determined by Heaven and Hell’s interferences. In season 1, Adam proves to reject the notion of a preconceived fate (though to be fair, he’s not exactly human); thus, in season 2, we conversely see Aziraphale fall into the trap of believing that because of his identity as an angel (as discussed earlier), he must follow through with his angelic duties.

Guilt

Finally, Aziraphale’s decision in the final scenes of the show can be attributed to guilt, not unlike what can be found in those who have strayed away from their faith. In many ways, Aziraphale’s journey back to Heaven and his relationship with it is an allegory for religious indoctrination and the subsequent guilt that comes with refusing one’s duty as a follower of God. Aziraphale’s dilemma and complicated relationship with Heaven can be equated to the all too common struggle people who no longer subscribe to the belief system they were raised on have, especially those who were raised Christian or Catholic.

They, like Aziraphale, were told that they were created in God’s image and brought to Earth to spread goodwill and love, and people who are in high-ranking positions in these churches are told that they have to lead their followers and spread God’s word. Aziraphale is told exactly this when the Metatron says “You’re a leader, you’re honest, [and] you don’t just tell people what they want to hear.” Those who have stayed connected to their religion usually also strive to have importance in their communities in order to serve their God as much as they can. The Metatron realizes this and weaponizes it to get into Aziraphale’s good graces. When he tells Aziraphale’s honesty is what brought Gabriel to him in the first place despite his memory loss, he is really saying that Aziraphale is as close to God or Heaven as anyone can be.

As someone who is reluctant to go back to Heaven, yet still sees its inherent value and importance, being told this meant a lot to Aziraphale. He was cast out of his community for loving and living the way he wants to, and now he’s being told by the leader of said community that not only is he the best out of everyone, but he also is being given the opportunity to improve his community from the inside. While this may seem like blatant manipulation tactics to many, some people who were heavily indoctrinated and later exiled from their communities would also fall for the Metatron’s words. The thing that needs to be remembered is that as much as people who have left their faiths want to forget about that part of their lives forever, a part of them, however small it may be, still longs for the sense of purpose that religion offers them.

The obligation Aziraphale feels as an angel also would fuel the guilt he feels, which ultimately led him to go back to Heaven. Being just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing comes at the cost of not fulfilling his duties as an angel, which must have put a burden on his shoulders over the years. The Arrangement he and Crowley had over the millennia had him not just doing good deeds but also carrying out Crowley’s evil bidding whenever necessary. As an angel who has always been told to be perfectly good at all times, he knows what he’s been doing is wrong. When the Metatron comes to him with the offer, he knows he can’t refuse it. To accept the offer is to right every ‘wrong’ he has done in the past 6000 years and finally feel like he belongs in a community that he hasn’t belonged in for millennia, yet still feels strongly for.

There is also a responsibility that comes with Aziraphale’s guilt towards Heaven, and it shows in the way he tries to get Crowley to come back to Heaven to be reinstated as an angel. Aziraphale feels the need to justify his own relationship with the demon to Heaven, and he thinks the promotion and opportunity to have Crowley back as an angel is the way to do it. In his mind, his responsibility turn Crowley away from the ‘evil side’, even though he’s known since 2500 BC that Crowley was on his own side. He’s even said that Crowley is good deep down, but he was blinded by the glowing praises he’s been given on a silver platter, by a person who he was created to serve.

This is a type of guilt and obligation that only people who have been indoctrinated or frequently told that their worth is contingent on their faith in the Almighty can feel. This is no more obvious than when Adam and Aziraphale’s characters are compared. Adam Young, son of Satan, faced no difficulties in refusing to fulfill his destiny as the catalyst of Armageddon, while Aziraphale lost his internal battle and decided to turn his back on his partner of 6000 years to do a job he didn’t, and still doesn’t, really want.

The contrast between them boils down to the amount of free will they have been given and the guilt they may or may not have when they exercise it. In Adam’s case, because he was (erroneously) raised without Heavenly or Hellish influences, he feels no connection to either side of the holy war and subsequently does not feel obligated to follow Satan’s orders. On the other hand, Aziraphale was created as a fully formed angel, militantly reminded of what his duties were and what happens if he doesn’t fulfill them. He’s even had a constant reminder of the consequences of disobeying God’s wishes, and it has stood beside him for over 6000 years. To Aziraphale, Heaven is still the side of “truth, light, [and] good” because the people he was destined to serve and follow told him so, not because he necessarily still believes it.

This same exact contrast can even be seen in Aziraphale and Crowley. They may have had their own side, but Crowley had strayed from Hell’s ways long before Aziraphale even started questioning Heaven. As a demon, it’s easy to chalk up Crowley’s tendency to rebel as something inherently demonic. However, the first scene of season 2 confirms that Crowley really did only ask questions, and his curiosity is what brought him to Hell, a place he never belonged in. The betrayal from Heaven and Hell’s disrespect for his work drove Crowley to carve out his own place in the world, so he has far less guilt abandoning the notion of sides.

Before delving into Shang-Chi specifically, I’d like to acknowledge that historically, Asian American representation in Hollywood movies, in general, has been riddled with controversy. The earliest instances of “Asian American” representation were often a white actor portraying an Asian American character in yellowface. Even as Asian American characters slowly started getting portrayed by Asian Americans, many of these characters remained problematic in the tropes they perpetuated which contributed to the “yellow fever” stereotype of Asian Americans posing a threat to the West. Additionally, there were Asian-specific gendered stereotypes that Asian American characters embodied, a problem that still persists today. Asian American men are often portrayed as effeminate and virginal to the point of suggestable homosexuality, and Asian American women are portrayed as submissive and shy. 

Historically, the fight for Asian American representation has been a desperate cry for white audiences to see us Asian Americans as humans instead of caricatures. Seeing an Asian American on screen was often already considered a victory before the sudden boom in Asian American representation in recent years. With movies like Shang-Chi, it becomes evident that modern Asian American representation focuses less on appealing to white audiences and instead, provides accurate representation that can help Asian Americans develop healthier self-perceptions about their identities from the way we are portrayed in media.

While Shang-Chi is a story about family and trauma, the appearance of dragons and mythology can distract from its main themes. However, the integration of instances of first-generation Chinese American culture in the movie’s first act is done skillfully. Examples include Shang-Chi taking off his shoes before entering Katy’s apartment, both Mandarin and English being spoken in Katy’s household on account of Katy’s 外婆 (grandma) living with the family in America, and Shang-Chi and Katy’s love for karaoke. Even though these all seem like extremely small details in the grand scheme of the plot, they stood out as features of most first-generation Chinese American experiences that aren’t always shown in media. These features are embedded so well into the movie that they add to the story and the context of the themes without distracting the viewers too much from the main focus. 

Everything Everywhere All At Once achieves a similar task in terms of representing intergenerational trauma while also including important aspects of the Chinese American experience. While comparing these two movies doesn’t necessarily make sense since one is a blockbuster that’s part of a multi-billion-dollar franchise and the other is an independent film that unexpectedly took the box office by storm, it’s important to acknowledge that both movies have fantastical elements, but at their core, they both include authentic and honest portrayals of the experience of being Chinese American, whether through their overarching themes or simple karaoke sequences. 

The tenth installment of the franchise was crazy in its scale and stakes, but the first movie built an entire universe at a breakneck speed, and I feel the need to share with you how the first film plays out. Whether you’ve been watching the films since they came out or are just watching them for the first time like I am, this will serve as a good recap for the first movie (though it’s mostly just an opportunity for me to express my bewilderment).

The first movie shows the franchise’s – and the entire gang’s – humble beginnings. The Fast and the Furious opens with a car chase between a truck transporting Panasonic DVD players and a handful of souped-up sedans. These sedans, containing faceless individuals armed with harpoons, take over the truck. We are then introduced to the movie's main gang, all of whom are very superficial in characteristics. “The Family” are introduced as they beat up Brian, the undercover cop, before Dominic – or as those close to him call him, Dom – stops the kerfuffle and sends Brian away with a warning never to return to his establishment. There’s Vince, Dom’s childhood friend and Brian’s #1 hater; Letty, Dom’s girlfriend; and Jesse, the gang’s resident tech whiz who apparently cannot attend college because he has ADHD.

The rest of the film plays out like a police thriller with drag racing montages cut in between. Instead of heeding Dom’s advice after the fight in the deli, Brian shows up at a late-night drag racing event with his own car and a bet Dom can’t refuse: if Brian loses, Dom gets his car, but if he wins, he gets the gang’s respect, which is a big deal as Dom and Co. are treated like The Beatles of racing when they arrive to the venue. Brian loses but gains Dominic’s respect anyway after he saves him from getting arrested and sticking with him as they get ambushed by the movie’s Asian Gang (we’ll get to the gangs later). As a gesture of appreciation, Dom invites Brian to the drag race afterparty at his house, and a friendship is struck between them.

Brian, who is supposed to investigate the series of truck hijackings happening around LA,  uses his newly procured inside knowledge of the racing scene to sneak into the different gangs’ workshops – the first suspect Brian comes across is what I call the Latino gang (the drag racing scene is racially segregated in the F&F universe), who drive Honda Civics – the same cars used in the hijackings. From the very beginning, Vince, Brian’s #1 hater, catches Brian red-handed, and he and Dom hold him at gunpoint to ask if he’s a cop. After lying and saying no, Vince and Dom go with Brian to the Asian gang’s shop because they use the same tires as the hijackers. There, they find a bunch of DVD players pushed to the corner of the shop and a mechanic being tortured by Johnny Tran, the leader of the Asian gang. The police raid and arrest the Asian gang as a result, but everyone is let go when there’s not enough evidence to charge them with anything, just like Brian warned them. At this point, Brian secretly knows it’s Dom doing the hijackings, and his cop colleagues know it too, but he’s too afraid to admit it to himself because, frankly, he’s grown attached to Dom and his family of racers.

The big event of the Fast and Furious universe is called the Race Wars, which is absolutely hilarious when you remember that the race of their members distinguishes the gangs in this movie. Among the many races in the event, the one between Johnny Tran and Jesse is the most important, as it results in Jesse losing and having to drive away without so much as a goodbye to The Family. The Race Wars also sets up the movie's climax, as Dom and the rest suspiciously leave in the middle of the night. Brian suspects they’re going to hijack another truck, and by this point, truckers along the West Coast have started to arm themselves in case they get ambushed by car ninjas, so he tails Dom’s convoy to save them. The film ends not after this car chase but another one between the Asian gang and Brian after Johnny shoots Jesse in a drive-by.

The main reason for my wanting to see this film was the cast and they did not disappoint. Hugh Grant, Chris Pine, Michelle Rodriguez, Justice Smith, Sophia Lillis, and Regé-Jean Page were all hilarious in the film. All of their characters had something unique to offer to the film, but as great as they all were individually I think what really made me fall in love with the ensemble was how each character interacted with each other. The chemistry between everyone was great, and even further there were some great duos in this film. Chris Pine and Michelle Rodriguez’s characters were especially fun to watch interact and they had some really great moments. This movie is such a family/team-oriented movie, which is very fun to watch on screen.

Aside from the cast, this film felt different from movies that have come out in recent years. I think it is so different from what audiences are used to because it isn't aiming to win Best Picture or be this great achievement in cinema, it’s really just aiming to be an enjoyable watching experience. Movies recently have felt this need to be masterpieces and the quantity of just fun movies is decreasing. However I think they are slowly making a comeback with films like Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves, and Cocaine Bear, in just this year already. I myself really enjoy these types of movies and hope filmmakers don't shy away from making them.

This movie was also surprisingly hilarious. Hugh Grant’s character was incredibly funny and very different from what you would expect Hugh Grant to play. There were so many absurd moments in the film that aided even more to the fun watching experience, including but not limited to an enormous pudgy dragon talking corpses, and Bradly Cooper as a Halfling (a fictional race in the Dungeons and Dragons world known to be about 2x smaller in scale to humans). These elements of the film just make the watching experience even more of a good time.

There has also been a common trend of sitcoms centering around family. Some great examples include Arrested Development, Home Economics, Fresh Off the Boat, and Kim’s Convenience. One sitcom that could be argued to be a family sitcom is It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, but it could be argued that the sitcom falls into the found family category. The found family category, referring to a group of friends who have become so close that they’re like family to one another, is my personal favorite category of sitcoms. Arguably, this could encompass sitcoms with romantic relationships as many of the sitcoms mentioned at the start are sitcoms that feature a large group of close friends who treat each other like family.

However, if we’re talking about sitcoms with found family with the exclusion of a relationship between the two main characters, there are plenty of sitcoms that fall into that category, such as Veep, Silicon Valley, Seinfeld, and Community. While there are romantic relationships featured in the show occasionally, they aren’t the main focus of the show. TV show genres have even evolved to the point where sitcoms aren’t expected to focus on stories because there are other shows that are comedy adjacent or are even referred to as dramedies that have become story-centered shows that still include comedic material and moments. Examples include Hacks, Reservation Dogs, Insecure, and Atlanta.

There isn’t anything wrong with a sitcom centering around a relationship, but the fact that the premise of storylines in popular sitcoms is often reduced to one main relationship points to the fact that perceiving the sitcom through the lens of a relationship is the easiest way to compartmentalize a multi-season long story. Of course, every sitcom approaches relationships between characters differently, but for many sitcoms, the initial will-they-won’t-they phase tends to last the longest, often including tropes related to jealousy and pining. But the issue is that it’s difficult to keep the relationship interesting once they actually start dating, so many shows turn to the option of letting the characters get married. These relationship patterns are very common in sitcoms, and the simple explanation for this is that it’s comforting. For a lot of people, relationships, especially romantic ones, is a difficult topic to deal with, and having a sitcom address this topic in a simple way makes it easier to deal with. This is the same reason why some people might prefer watching family sitcoms or found family sitcoms and find those more comforting.

To contribute to the large, ever-expanding pool of thematic interpretations of the film, I’d like to discuss Everything Everywhere All At Once exploring the idea of home. In a physical sense, the Wangs live on the upper floor of the laundromat they own and operate, forcing Evelyn to intertwine her work life and personal life. Their living space is clustered with their belongings, leaving little space for the family to separate themselves from one another. This crowded environment contributes to each family member feeling trapped: Waymond with his marriage, Evelyn with her work, and Joy with her family. That’s part of the reason why other universes are so expansive, both literally and figuratively. In the universe of rocks, Evelyn and Joy are simply rocks, overlooking a vast canyon that stretches out to the horizon and doesn’t seem to ever end. In another universe, Evelyn is a successful actress. The other universes that Jobu Tupaki shows Evelyn pinpoints a desire to escape the monotony that’s associated with home.

Though the film shows how home can be a difficult space that can trap people within their fears and doubts, it also acknowledges that it can be even harder to leave. In the climax of the film, Evelyn tells Joy to stop running, and Joy breaks down into tears in the parking lot of the laundromat, begging her mother to let her go. At this point, Joy associates home with her family and can’t stand to be around either because it reminds her of how her identity seems to contradict her identity as a first-generation Chinese American and could disrupt her relationship with her grandfather. To Joy, her family and the laundromat aren’t home because, just like her, they’re ideas that Evelyn tries to project her own desires onto them in hopes that she can rectify her past disappointments to her father.

When Evelyn realizes this and seems to let Joy go, the audience sees that Evelyn has let all these expectations go. But, we’re suddenly pulled back into the parking lot again where Evelyn tells Joy to stop and reveals that out of all the places in the world she could be, she wants to be with her daughter, living a mundane life. Even though Evelyn can access these universes via a simple Bluetooth headpiece or by falling through the creases of a couch in her own apartment, she chooses to stay in her reality and make the best out of it because her family is worth trying for, despite all the hardships. This is where the idea of home shifts from the one of a physical location, or even a possible alternative universe, to a concept sustained by love for family and others. The movie never tries to separate home and family but rather chooses to reframe it to show that creating a safe and loving home is a choice that families make, breaking the cycle of associating home and family with suppression and unreachable expectations. Ultimately, Joy learns to accept her family too and shirks her own expectations for her family and what they could be. And Waymond – well, Waymond, who has always seen the best in people, finally realizes the value of his kindness through his support of Evelyn during the multiversal tribulation and learns to do the same as well.

Everything Everywhere All At Once leaves the audience with either an aching for home or an appreciation of people who make them feel at home, especially first-generation Asian Americans. Many of us have a complicated relationship with our identity because we often feel disconnected from our cultural identity. While we may speak the language and celebrate cultural traditions, we’re also deeply immersed in American culture – yet, non-Asian Americans often see as us Asian before American. This leaves us feeling lost, often having trouble confiding in our immigrant parents who are also going through the same conflict but often refuse to explicitly acknowledge it. The film references this diasporic struggle by showing clips of Evelyn debating on whether to move to America with Waymond and start a completely new life. Furthermore, Joy being a lesbian in addition to being Asian American extends this consideration by bringing into question whether these identities can co-exist without constantly fostering a clashing internal conflict that manifests itself in the form of nihilism.

However, while the protagonists are both perpetrators and recipients of harm, other characters fall more squarely into the second category. Namely, Kendall’s children (especially Iverson) take no part in the high-stakes corporate crimes, yet they are both dragged into this world by virtue of their lineage. We receive hints about the troubled lives of the third-generation Roys (such as Kendall leaving cocaine on his children’s tablets), but within the show, it becomes especially palpable.

Being an autistic child casts Iverson as arguably the most vulnerable on-screen character in Succession. In Season 1, Iverson’s autistic behaviors (his difficulty with transitions and group socialization) lead to him being mocked, and eventually hit by his grandfather.

Kendall does little more than stand on and tolerate the abuse. In a later episode, Kendall himself angrily yells and curses at Iverson when he mistakes him for someone else – for an autistic child with sensory issues, this was likely a deeply traumatic experience. Iverson’s on-screen experiences with his father paint the image of someone who has been continually hurt by Kendall.

While Iverson is relatively absent in Season 2, he reappears in Season 3, in dramatic and troubling circumstances. Logan drags the unwitting Iverson into his sick games with Kendall, using Iverson to taste his food to see if it’s been poisoned. If Logan had believed that there was any real risk of poison, then Logan deliberately endangered his grandson (if it had been poison, it’s possible that it would be even more dangerous for a child.) If he hadn’t, then he made Iverson a pawn in his game to disturb Kendall. Either way, Iverson is victimized by his family in their endless power struggle.

Aside from Pearl and X, Jordan Peele’s third directing project, Nope, was a critical darling and gave Peele a hat trick of having his films cross the $100 million threshold at the box office. The cast, consisting of Keke Palmer, Brandon Perea, Steven Yeun and Get Out alum Daniel Kaluuya, all gave stellar performances and had an on-screen chemistry that audiences found endearing, even in the circumstances the characters had to endure. Beyond the incredible acting and onscreen chemistry, this film stood out among the crowd for its sound design. The sound in this film is, for a lack of a better term, haunting. It almost becomes its own character as the film progresses, and as a viewer, it is not just a warning that something scary is about to occur, but also a complement to the disturbing imagery and effects. Many films can be watched on mute and have their quality remain somewhat the same, but Nope is not one of those films. This may sound like a critique, but it’s actually praise for how well-rounded and thought-out everything is. Music and sound can sometimes be thrown in as an afterthought, but with Nope, you can really tell that Peele wanted the music to serve the way that it did. The result is a harrowing, atmospheric, yet at times claustrophobic feeling that envelopes the entire film. Most of all, Nope and the Pearl franchise have something to say. Nope is a commentary on the sensationalism and commercialization of shock and controversy that seems to plague the entertainment industry (though some people didn’t understand this), while Pearl comments on the ‘American Dream,’ and how it’s set up to have its most vulnerable citizens fail or succumb to exploitation.

Obviously, having a profound message or a poignant commentary in a film isn’t a prerequisite to bagging an Oscar nomination – Top Gun: Maverick’s six Oscar nominations are proof of that – but it means that important films aren’t being regarded in the way that they should. The themes present in horror films like Nope could be present in a drama and that film probably would have garnered more attention and Oscar buzz. Even films with less strong messaging like Smile, Barbarian, Bones and All, and many more that have garnered positive reviews both from audiences and critics aren’t getting the attention they deserve. The issue isn’t that these films are too political, not political enough, badly acted, or even badly produced, it’s simply that horror films are still not being taken seriously enough. At least Nope did get a few wins in other, if smaller, award shows, such as Keke Palmer’s Best Supporting Actress win from the New York Film Critics Circle Awards, but it’s disheartening to see that the award show that supposedly matters most won’t even provide them a chance to get their dues.

Gothic architecture’s origins are closely tied to European politics in the Late Middle Ages. It was a way for Louis VI of France to portray himself as a leader that was uplifting the community, which was necessary because they were coming out of the Black Plague. Despite the connotation of the modern interpretation of Gothic, the architectural style was meant to represent hope and light. This contrasted Gothic architecture’s predecessor, Romanesque architecture, which primarily aimed to guilt the viewer into being devout –not uplifting the community in times of distress. By stepping into a gothic church, the viewer was to be transported into a heaven-like place. One of Gothic architecture’s main goals was to replace as much of the wall as possible with windows to allow as much light into the church as possible. Light was seen as a literal manifestation of god, thus allowing the viewer to be surrounded by the light of god within the church. It was important for the churches to reflect a more positive outlook on the world in times of constant suffering in the community.

One of The Batman’s main themes is renewal. At its core, Gothic architecture is all about renewing the old to make it modern and better serve the present times. It’s implied Thomas Wayne begins the renewal program and moves the family into the Wayne Tower around the same time. It's quite a contrast between the two homes and that's no accident. Thomas Wayne was trying to reform the city and that's no exception for him and his family. Although Thomas Wayne wanted to renew the city, Gotham’s political system remained corrupt. The Riddler even critiques the system for having the two richest families be the main people in control of Gotham. The Gothic tower pays homage to the French monarchy of the Late Middle Ages, to further critique the corruption within the system. Thomas Wayne on the surface was seen as someone that would help the people but still reached this point through his family lineage and money. Bruce is constantly haunted by his father’s shadow and the tower is just one of those shadows left behind. The Riddler uses the “sins of his father” to expose the Wayne family and persistently reminds him of this.

Even on a surface level, the Gothic-style tower gives so much insight into Bruce Wayne as a character. As pointed out before, Gothic architecture was designed to let an abundance of light into its interior. This is quite the contrast to Batman’s dark, brooding character. Matt Reeves’ depiction of Batman strays from the path of previous Batman generations by omitting Bruce Wayne’s playboy persona. However, the bold, elaborate Gothic-styled Wayne Tower shows a sliver of that side of him and what he could be like. He is not seen in the tower often but when he is, he reflects a sense of uncomfortableness and looks out of place. He shows such a distaste for the light inside and even squints at bright light being let in, putting on sunglasses to avoid it. Batman is primarily, if not exclusively, seen in the shadows and the Gothic style of his home really helps to emphasize that aspect of his character.