​When you think of Halloween media iconicism, John Carpenter's 1978 namesake film starring Jamie Lee Curtis will likely come to mind (the latest major installment of the franchise was released in 2018). Friday the 13th, Nightmare on Elm Street, Child's Play and Scream would probably follow. Children's movies for the holiday are rarely stamped as classics because they aren't bone-chilling enough. Moreover, they often struggle to be more than a piece of nostalgia as their first viewers age. Disney's Hocus Pocus is an exception. A comedy about three minors conquering resurrected sister-witches from the 1600's, it's religiously played on television from September through November. Fans have clamored for a sequel for years, and every milestone anniversary is abundantly celebrated. Costume shops have entire sections dedicated to the film. Nothing speaks to its cross-generational power like a product-line that includes toys and teen costumes, as well as shot glasses and home-ware.
 
The joke is on screen critics from 1993, who lambasted Hocus Pocus and predicted it was doomed for obscurity. They were too busy being their usual fault-finding and cantankerous selves, they missed what would make it eternally bewitching. Senselessly looking at a youth movie through an adult lens, they made a bevy of irrational complaints and observations. For instance, some said it was "too silly;" there's no such thing as that with kids. Others would accuse it of being perverse, revealing their own warped mindsets. One reviewer supposed that the dainty way witch Sarah Sanderson (Sarah Jessica Parker) laid on her broomstick was sexually suggestive (I shook my head and rolled my eyes as I typed that sentence). Parker and the then teenage Vinessa Shaw (who portrayed Allison Watts) were the primary targets of venereal comments, but more on that problematic and unsettling aspect later. Assessments more grounded in logic deemed the film unorganized and conflicted for its contrasting comedic styles and character setups. Its variation enabled it to engage a wide audience though, which is the source of its longevity.  
 
With Hocus Pocus' humor and concepts, many writers took issue with the macabre and mature surrounding lighter fare. Slapstick hijinks and G-rated giggles were alongside moderately sophisticated sarcasm, locker-room references to women's breasts and repeat mentions of virginity. A touching moral about cherishing and protecting your siblings (to the extent of self-sacrifice) is the B-plot to witches stealing children's souls to live forever. Within the first 30 minutes (or less) alone, one child is lured away with a spellbinding lullaby and murdered, another is turned into an immortal cat, and the witches are hung (with a promise to return of course). We see the nooses around their necks, and then a cut to their dangling feet. Nothing too serious, haha.
 
What seemed like terrible, irresponsible and chaotic storytelling to the critics was actually pretty strategic and intentional...and ultimately effective. 
​
Oil of Boil, and a Dead Man's Toe (The Method to the Madness)
 
The Hocus Pocus crew explained the method to their madness in commemorative interviews with the Freeform channel last year. Writer and producer David Kirschner developed the plot with Mick Garris, seeking to break open the market for family movies in the adult-centric Halloween genre. 'House of Mouse' ideology was their compass. "Disney used to say you had to have darkness to have light. The film embraced that," soundtrack composer and long-time Disney collaborator John Debney detailed. Garris described his screenplay (co-authored by Neil Cuthbert) as "dark" and "scarier" than the end result. Moves to brighten and balance the work included making zombie Billy Butcherson (Doug Jones) "one you could date," instead of be frightened of. Choreographer and director Kenny Ortega was recruited to ensure the illuminations translated on tape. "It was a spooky comedy for sure, but it became much more fun than I had ever envisioned, and that's Kenny. He just brought a joy to it," Kirschner reminisced. 

​Warning: This review contains SPOILERS.
 
Film remakes already have plenty to live up to without having to make up for the shortcomings of a previous reboot. Knowing this didn’t keep me from expecting more from Disney’s live-action version of The Lion King, after their endeavor with Aladdin let me down though. The Guy Ritchie-directed Aladdin offered an empowered Princess Jasmine, but other changes and missed CGI (computer generated imagery) opportunities left me feeling annoyed and discontent (you can read my full review here). The Lion King had the added task of setting things right.
 
In the (unlikely) event that you have no idea what The Lion King (1994) is about, it’s kind of a coming of age tale with lots of anecdotes about life stages and how we’re all connected (so, imagine a child-appropriate NBC’s This is Us). Cub Simba (JD McCrary) is the heir to his father Mufasa’s (James Earl Jones; I'm so glad he was able to do the project, no one else would be right) throne, and his disgruntled uncle Scar (Chiwetel Ejiofor) is far from thrilled. Scar concocts a murderous plot with exiled hyenas, so he can rise to power. Simba narrowly escapes, but it’s assumed he’ll die in the wilderness. Meerkat Timon (Billy Eichner) and warthog Pumbaa (Seth Rogen) care for him until adulthood. Simba’s old friend (and eventual spouse) Nala (Beyoncé) crosses his path and relays how Scar ravaged the kingdom of natural resources. Simba (then voiced by Donald Glover) is resistant to the idea of returning home, and feels responsible for Mufasa’s death. Various happenings lead to an identity wake up call for him, and he ultimately challenges Scar’s rule.
 
Director Jon Favreau’s 2019 The Lion King (screenplay by Jeff Nathanson) is mostly faithful to its root text. Many revisions have a clear objective and/or magnify story elements. If there was going to be any similarity to Ritchie’s Aladdin, it could be with strengthening the presence of female leads. Nathanson gives Nala a more nuanced and empowering arc. We see her develop and hash out a grudge with principal hyena Shenzi (Florence Kasumba), and ascend to primacy among the lionesses. She tries to respect the elders in the pack, but becomes impatient with their docility with Scar. She arouses them to fiercely take back their land. Beyoncé does surprisingly well blending in with the rest of the voice cast (Shahadi Wright Joseph portrays young Nala). I’ll admit I doubted her ability to do this, considering her distinctly deep and American Southern accent. There are times where you can tell she’s being careful with her enunciation, but it isn’t distracting.
 
Scar and Shenzi were given extra shading. 1994’s Scar is venomous, but his haughtiness and facetiousness put an attracting glimmer around his shadows. In 2019, he’s reserved, less saucy and his quips are bitter jabs, as opposed to humorous. Ejiofor brings Scar’s acidity and boiling resentment to the surface with his breathy and distressed delivery. Unreciprocated affections are tacked on to the list of things Scar is peeved about, as an infatuation with Mufasa’s wife Sarabi (Alfre Woodard) is intriguingly included. Previously, Shenzi was ill-intentioned, but too uproarious (as only Whoopi Goldberg, who was behind the mic then, can be) to hate. Her update is decidedly diabolical, and no matter is a laughing one. What prevents these character modifications from being a total buzz kill is their apparent purpose. Scar and Shenzi (and her troupe) are unmistakably ominous and scary. The hyenas are convincing as a threat, whereas before, you couldn’t take them seriously. This effect is why you might tolerate Scar’s divo snobbery and some of the hyena banter going missing.

Warning: This review contains SPOILERS.

​One by one, Disney’s given live-action makeovers to their classic films, and 1992’s Aladdin is the latest to get that treatment. Each adaptation announcement stirs up excitement from audiences, but there’s also an anxiety and skepticism that expectations won’t be met. When it comes to remakes, viewers tend to look for three things: 1) nostalgia, 2) improved story-telling, and 3) application of today’s technology and/or cultural atmosphere. The 2019 edition of Aladdin (directed by Guy Ritchie; screenplay by Ritchie and John August) fulfills all three criteria a medium amount. That said, you’ll likely leave the theater content, but it’s equally likely there’ll be an undercurrent of disappointment.
 
Not that you’ll need this plot summary, but just for good measure: Aladdin (Mena Massoud) is an impoverished young man, whose life turns around when he finds a mystical lamp that inhabits a Genie (Will Smith). He’s allotted three wishes. He hopes to woo his city’s (the fictitious Arabian Agrabah’s) Princess Jasmine (Naomi Scott), who has her own problems. She’s regularly monitored by palace guards, and is being made to marry to retain her sovereign status. Meanwhile Jafar (Marwan Kenzari), her father’s right hand man, is secretly determined to reign.
 
Misguided casting is often the first thing to threaten a recreation project. In this case, the characterizations of the fictional alter egos were the trouble. Many Disney tales include talking animal friends with splashy personalities. They carry the humor and compliment their human companions. They’re usually positioned peripherally, but they’re essential. In Aladdin, these pet pals were the petulant and mischievous monkey Abu, and the devious and obnoxiously loud parrot Iago. Part of the thrill of a live-action rendering is seeing fantasy elements (like a mouthy monkey) become tangible. Ritchie squandered the opportunity for this. He and his team heavily focused on aesthetic realism, sucking the pizzazz out of Abu and Iago. There was a similar effect in 2017's Beauty & The Beast (you can read my review here).
 
Royal vizier Jafar is an antagonist in name only. His presentation is entirely too subtle, having none of the menacing or magnetic qualities of his cartoon predecessor. When I was younger, I had nightmares about Jafar for years. Kids now are more liable to be scared of Santa Claus than Kenzari’s copy. The character’s allure lies within his shady wit. He does things like deliberately mispronounce Aladdin’s name, and use the guy’s signature song (i.e. “Prince Ali”) to expose and humiliate him. You wonder if Kenzari's’s incarnation is even capable of making a chicken joke. 

If my memory serves me correctly, TV Guide and/or People magazine used to have a feature series called "The Best Show You're Not Watching." Of course, it was to draw attention to exceptional programs that somehow went under the public's radar. If those plugs existed today, primetime drama Nashville would certainly fit the profile. It had critical acclaim, prestigious award nominations and successful off-shooting music/tours, but it was beleaguered by lukewarm ratings and various production obstacles. Premiering in 2012, its highest overall ranking by 2016 was 54. After consecutive years "on the bubble," it was cancelled by its originating network, ABC. It's evidently niche, but fervent "Nashie" fandom pounded the digital pavement with #BringBackNashville, until the fitting CMT came to the rescue with a pick-up. It still wasn't all quiet on the western front, though. Leading lady Connie Britton would get out of Dodge, and CMT eventually opted to axe the serial in a move from scripted broadcasts (sorry for the cheesy western sayings; I couldn't help myself). When Nashville's sixth and final season concludes this month, it will likely be to little hoorah. It's anyone's guess if it will be mentioned years from now. Maybe when Hayden Panettiere (its other prima donna) does a string of blockbusters, or Lennon Stella becomes a household name (if you don't know her yet, you will), it will finally get the interest it deserved. People can print their first "Shows We Should've Watched" piece. For now, it's up to the Nashies and I to light the candles and bid our show proper adieu.
 
I remember the pilot trailer like it was yesterday: seasoned country diva Rayna Jaymes (Britton) has to play industry chess to keep from being put to pasture by the latest "it" girl, Juliette Barnes (Panettiere). Political scandal, and messy familial and romantic entanglements are around the corner. The music nerd, soap-opera lover and Panettiere fan-girl in me was sold; you didn't have to tell me twice to tune in. The press swore it was a parallel to Reba McEntire and Taylor Swift; that still makes me laugh hysterically. They weren't going off anything but the stars' hair color. The vehicle was a better version of Empire (2015), before there was such a thing (ironically, Empire supporting actress Kaitlin Doubleday would join the cast in season five).The narratives were more evenly paced, grounded and detailed, including the business commentary (I especially appreciated the annotations on sexism). As for the weekly soundtrack? Oh my goodness, it was infinitely superior (beneath my commentary is a list of my favorite songs). First-rate production and thoughtful lyricism prevented it from sounding 'made for television.' The pulse of "Music City" authentically beat through, as the content was crafted by local talent (it was sung by the cast). With storytelling being country's supreme trait, the songs exquisitely accented the layered plot lines and characters. Let's delve into all of it, shall we?
 
The Characters
Of Nashville's fictional figures, Juliette, Deacon Claybourne (Charles Esten) and Avery Barkley (Jonathan Jackson) are my top three loves.
Juliette is completely intoxicating, with her sass, irrepressibility and how much of a living train-wreck she can be. Dissecting the complexities of her psyche can become an obsessive compulsion. She's a great example of what meets the eye isn't always the whole story. On the surface, she's a destructive narcissist, but it's not that simple. Having to survive successive traumas (ex. a manipulative mother who struggled with substance abuse, sexually predatory record executives) she developed a self-loathing and maladaptive preservation skills. She doesn't know how to identify or treat something of value (ex. her career, her caring husband) because she's hardly had that. Between her history and many nagging naysayers, you want to see her win (especially because her gloating victory laps are a thing of beauty). Roles like this can be difficult to write for. The question of how to evolve them without making them a 'bore' gets raised. A natural, built-in transition was available for Juliette, but the writers still strangely lost her in seasons five and six. She had post-partum depression, went to rehab, was inadvertently involved in her manager's death (i.e. Jeff Fordham) and was in a plane crash by the end of season four. Recovering from these events (ex. therapy, healing, PTSD, relapse) to come out a better person would've lasted to now. Instead, they had her accusing people of man-stealing, snatching songs from teenagers and accidentally joining a cult. Further, her background was unnecessarily revised to incorporate her mother, Jolene, allowing someone to rape her for money. This nullified the resolve brought by Jolene's sacrificial suicide, after she murdered Juliette's extortionist. The main 'JB' scenario I hated during the ABC run was her sleeping with Jeff. He did everything he could to control/destroy her career, and said she was "trailer trash covered in rhinestones." She'd fight someone like him tooth and nail. She'd never let him in her pants; it wasn't true to the character.

Deacon was the other tortured soul on canvas. He too sprouted from a hard knock life, and inherited his abusive father's battle with the bottle. It hindered his career and "love for the ages" relationship with Rayna for many years. Often, alcoholics are diabolized in media and their afflictions are depicted as choice-based. Much like the persona of Jack Pearson on NBC's This is Us, the portrayal of Deacon Claybourne humanized the addict. It showed crapulence for the ruling illness it is, and how it has a life of its own. To do this, clear division was made between Deacon and his demons. Inherently, he's a gentle and benevolent spirit you can't help but be enamored with. When alcoholism pulls him out of body, he's frigid and tempestuous. The tangibility of his duality is substantially in credit to Esten. His elegant, intricate and arresting work takes you inside each of his alter-ego's emotions. Him shedding a single tear will leave you bawling on the floor. I particularly enjoyed his channeling through his eyes and voice. Those piercing baby blues can be steely, just as easily as they can make you feel overcome with serenity. His vocal cadence is sonorous in a moment of decisiveness or seduction. It's swinging in a congenial exchange, hoarse and howling at a breaking point. Esten's performances are so gripping, you wonder where he's been this whole time. I tell ya', he's Hollywood's best kept secret.

15 years ago this month, Focus Features released Deliver Us from Eva, a film about 3 guys who try to wrangle their overbearing sister-in-law (Gabrielle Union). It was funny, entertaining, and had a bomb R&B soundtrack. Union was spectacularly brilliant in the title role. Her quirky facial expressions, bodily twitches and pronounced delivery of the rapid-fire script brought the eccentric and hyper-intelligent Evangeline Dandridge to life. Eva is a no-nonsense natural born leader. She cut her teeth at this raising her younger sisters: Kareenah (Essence Atkins), Bethany (Robinne Lee) and Jacqui (Meagan Good). They all became orphans years prior. To stay afloat and start "The Dandridge Fund," Eva dropped her horse-training dreams for more practical work as a restaurant health inspector. Her siblings naturally look up to her, but they extensively hang on her every word. This is to the exasperation of their respective mates, who feel her opinions and advice block their personal desires. Kareenah's husband, Tim (Mel Jackson), has baby fever. Bethany's boyfriend, Mike (Duane Martin), wants to move in and get his hands on the fund. Jacqui's spouse, Darrell (Dartanyan Edmonds), isn't happy she spends so much time on her college studies. The men resolve to pay someone to sweep Eva off her feet. That someone is Ray (LL Cool J), a rolling-stone playboy. His fee? $5,000. His task is "not just to distract her, but make her fall hard," and get her to relocate with him. Then, he can dump her. When he ends up liking her and she passes on an out-of-state job promotion, the fellas stage his death. Ray exposes the entire scam and chases Eva until she forgives him.
 
I saw this movie for the first time at a teenage slumber party. It had just come out on DVD. I was the only girl who actually had admiration for Eva, and thought the four horsemen didn't deserve forgiveness. I always joke I came out of the womb a feminist. I say this because, from a young age, I'd detect ridiculous biases. I'd question 'default' attitudes, standards and archetypes. In the very least, some situations--like parts of this film's plot--just didn't sit well with me. Eva wasn't homicidal, deceitful or malicious, but she was 'evil' the males needed 'deliverance' from. If any of the characters were guilty of these things (minus homicide), it was the guys, but she was villainized over them. There's something really wrong with that, especially when one takes a closer look at what allegedly made her so bad.
 
Eva is purportedly so traumatizing to deal with, an ex developed a speech impediment. Said ex freaks out upon seeing her picture, and repetitively screams "B*tch!" in an open bar. A flashback to their last encounter shows her dismissing him for complaining she was uptight and then lying about it. Oh, the horror! The horror! How 'bitchy' of her. *Rolls eyes* What puts Eva at the top of her field is her precision, but she's constantly criticized for it by others. When she doesn't budge on an inspection citation, she's told she has an ice pump in her chest and is "so damn uncompromising." Later, on her first date with Ray, she repeatedly has to ask him to leave a restaurant with a faulty manager. He further diminishes her concerns and career by accusing her of overreacting and snarkily saying "You're not the FBI." She responds accordingly, but is described as "nasty" and as having an "electric fence with rabid pit-bulls" around her heart.

​I have to admit that when I saw Proud Mary recently, it wasn't because I was pressed to see it. I was more excited about trying the menu at the new local dine-in theater. Come to think of it, I really gambled with my dollars; both the feature and the food could've been horrible. My meal was just okay (not that you care), but the film was better than I expected. The trailers made it seem like there wasn't much to the plot: A single mother named Mary (Taraji P. Henson) prepares to retire from being an assassin. I thought "Stuff will blow up, her last hit job will be particularly difficult, her son will briefly be in danger, and all will end well because she's just Mary." The short 88-minute runtime fed my assumptions. You know what they say about making assumptions, though...
 
With the exception of the awesome action sequences and Mary's change of vocation, I was mostly wrong about the storyline. For starters, Jahi Di'Allo Winston's character Danny is not her son. How she ends up in his orbit is the film's biggest twist, and its unanticipated (though, parts of their initial interaction are written clumsily). Her personal history and collaborative relationships are also a bit more complex than imagined. Alongside her are Benny (Danny Glover) and Tom (Billy Brown), who tread the line between 'ally' and 'enemy.' As usual, Glover brings his master-class skills, easily alternating between the two modes. In this role, he's most delicious when Benny is feeling nefarious. Fans who are used to watching Brown play the harmed good-guy on ABC's How to Get Away with Murder will have fun seeing a different side of the actor. As for Henson, she's as reliable and proficient as always.
 
The 70's style promotional artwork and music made me worry I was in for a campy, new-age take on black exploitation movies. Thankfully, the only calls to that were a black woman kicking butt and a vintage soundtrack that included the Temptations and, of course, Tina Turner. Turner's signature cover of "Proud Mary" was effectively used at the thrilling climax, and into the credits. It was a blast hearing the audience sing along and hair flip in unison.
 
Babak Najafi's Proud Mary is indeed compact, but it doesn't feel stuffy or rushed. The tangled webs, sturdy performances and cool stunts make it a good 88 minutes. It's not the total throwaway it appears to be. 

WARNING: This review contains SPOILERS.
 
Overall: The storytelling is a bit rushed, but it's an entertaining and uplifting "celebration of humanity"

If you haven't heard already, Michael Gracey's The Greatest Showman is very loosely based on the life of P.T. Barnum, the legendary circus ringleader. Looking at the film's inspirational themes, and the vast liberties taken with the facts, it's clear making another biopic wasn't the intent. Instead, screenwriters Bill Condon and Jenny Bicks use the symbolism of Barnum to remind us to dream, show benevolence and focus on what matters.
 
We watch Gracey's Barnum from his youth as a misfit (Ellis Rubin). He copes with the bleakness of his poverty-stricken life with imagination, charm and humor. He hopes to one day show up his elitist naysayers by wowing and entertaining the world. When of age (Hugh Jackman), he marries his childhood sweetheart (Skylar Dunn; later Michelle Williams), who happily leaves her lap of luxury to be with him. "Barnum's Circus" is eventually launched, piquing both interest and protest for making stars out of outcasts. The lineup consists of performers exiled for their physical appearance. To appeal to the upper-class, P.T. recruits a more traditional act: a glamorous singer named Jenny Lind (Rebecca Ferguson). He also enlists the help of a wealthy playwright, Phillip Carlyle (Zac Efron). Phillip's budding romance with Anne Wheeler (Zendaya), a black trapeze artist, tests them both in different ways. Things also get sticky between P.T., his wife and Jenny. It all comes to a head as his obsession with raising the show's profile gets the best of him, and the performers are attacked.
 
As with any proper musical, the songs strike the emotional chords of the story and sharpen its tones. Holding the defiant and aspirational spirit of the characters, each track is stirring. So much so, you'll forget you're watching a movie and will clap by reflex at the end of numbers. This is particularly true with "Never Enough" and the outsider anthem "This Is Me," beautifully led by 'bearded lady' Keala Settle. "Never Enough" marks a 'make or break' instance for P.T. He's hired Jenny by word-of-mouth alone, and has promised awe to cynical crowds with her debut. I myself was prepared to be unimpressed. I thought "I'll accept this for the pivotal scene it's supposed to be, no matter how unremarkable it is." My breath was taken away right with the fictional audience. Recall the first time you heard Adele's "Someone Like You," Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On," Whitney Houston's cover of "I Will Always Love You" or Mariah Carey's "Vision of Love." Those kinds of memories will flash before you. Perfect diva science was smartly applied to create the desired effect. You know the formula: sweet lyrics, stunning vocals and 'just right' structuring to where the song escalates, but never crushes its own tenderness. The chops were provided by Loren Allred, who appeared on season 3 of NBC's The Voice (it's awkwardly noticeable that Ferguson is lip-synching). I think it's unfortunate (and a little strange) that a dual actress/singer wasn't cast as Jenny. This way, the architect of such an wonderful moment was left out of the party.

Note from J.Says: This is just for giggles; don't give yourself a wedgie.
 
20 years ago this month, James Cameron's Titanic sailed into theaters, and boy, did it live up to its name. Everything about it was mammoth-sized. The extensive research, underwater expeditions and top-of-the-line graphics required to make the film created a budget of $200 million; the highest of its age. That was chump change compared to its history-making box office numbers of over a billion. Talk about a return on an investment. This record went unmatched for 13 years, until Cameron decided to outdo himself with 2010's Avatar. Titanic is still tied with Ben-Hur (1959) for the most Oscar wins, with 11 trophies. Though 93% of the soundtrack is orchestral score, it's one of the best-selling albums of all-time. Its lone pop tune, a little ditty by Celine Dion called "My Heart Will Go On," was likely responsible for that. Gorgeously arranged, written and performed to capture the movie's essence, it's no wonder it was immensely popular. Ironically, the popularity (and subsequent overplay) is why it's arguably lost its luster. The last thing anyone thinks about when they hear it now is its quality, but I digress. Titanic also made global celebrities out of its leads, Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet. Their portrayals of star-crossed lovers Jack Dawson and Rose DeWitt Bukater were so convincing, people "ship" them to this day. With Tumblr pages, fan-fiction forums and faux sequel trailers galore, the film's pop-culture iconicism is ever apparent.
 
You know the story: 17-year-old Rose is forced into an arranged engagement with the domineering (and much older) Caledon "Cal" Hockley (Billy Zane), to save her family from impending squalor. They're set to be married following their voyage on the Titanic. Rose quickly falls in love with Jack after he talks her out of committing suicide. He's a destitute sketch-artist, but he offers her fun and freedom from upper-class trappings. Just when she's decided to run away with him at ship dock, Titanic strikes an iceberg and begins to sink. The pair end up in frigid waters, and of course, Jack dies from hypothermia. It's all very sad, haha. Beforehand, Jack makes Rose vow to survive. She goes on to have a life of adventure. Amid all the distress and peril surrounding Rose, you root for her and want to see her win. However, there's something about her that most fans won't admit: she's kind of a butthole. Don't @ me or accuse me of heresy; you know I ain't lyin'. Even Jack clocked it: "Rose, you're no picnic, alright? You're a spoiled little brat..."
 
Don't worry, owning the truth won't taint your love. The Little Mermaid was a brat too, and an idiot for selling her voice for a prince she didn't know, but Ariel's still my girl. Simba was a disobedient chump, but he's still The Lion King. Plus, it's been 20 years; I think it's safe to be honest now. In case you're in denial, here's a list of reasons why *Andre 3000 voice* "Roses really smell like poo-ooh-ooh-ooh!:"
 
She Was Unnecessarily Rude as Hell
Throughout the movie, Rose makes snarky and rude remarks that are uncalled for. The most boorish of which was during a lunch with ship executives J. Bruce Ismay (Jonathan Hyde) and Thomas Andrews (Victor Garber). To Rose's irritation, her mother (Ruth; played by Frances Fisher) and Cal and were micromanaging her at the table. Instead of letting them have it, she takes her annoyance out on Ismay. When he brags about Titanic's grandiosity, she quips: "Do you know of Dr. Freud?... His ideas about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you." Psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud was known for his sexuality-based theories, including those regarding penis size. Rose basically implied that Ismay had a tiny pecker. Why did she have to humiliate him like that in front of everyone? What did he ever do to her? Sure, he had is part in the sinking, but she didn't know that.

​WARNING: This review contains SPOILERS.
 
When it comes to television fiction, the screen has always loved Raven-Symoné. Her natural charisma and comedic-timing is what made her characters in The Cosby Show, Hangin' with Mr. Cooper and The Cheetah Girls--among others-- so memorable and beloved. Her titular role as psychic Raven Baxter on the Disney Channel's Emmy-nominated That's So Raven (2003-2007) is no different. Rumors of a series reboot caused a gleeful stir, when production for Raven's Home finally began last year. A trailer released in June revealed that, after failed marriages, Raven and her best friend Chelsea (Anneliese van der Pol reprises) are bunking together with their children. Unbeknownst to Raven, her son Booker (Issac Ryan Brown) has inherited her future-telling visions.
 
I have to say, the Booker-narrated trailer worried me. Unlike the Girl Meets World spinoff of Boy Meets World (I don't get why the channel cancelled such a wonderful and popular program), Raven's Home was pushed in the media as a continuation of Baxter and Co.'s story. I think it's safe to say not many were expecting (or wanting) an offspring-focused show that had our favorite screwball BFF's in the background. This is especially true when said offspring is only 11-years-old; teenagers have a better chance at appealing to both youth and adults. However, if the first two episodes (the premiere was July 21st) are indicative of what the entire season will be like, viewers need not be apprehensive.
 
While the youngsters indeed have their focal storylines, the hilarious "Ray and Chels" aren't that far behind. Their adult woes aren't avoided in the dialogue. It's made patent their co-habitation is a course of survival, and being together is a silver lining. After rehashing how her husband cheated on her with an undercover cop who bagged him for tax fraud, Chelsea concludes "We're really lucky both of our marriages fell apart." She and Raven pause before they say "Whoa...that got dark." Their zingers come as they sass and humiliate their kids, and discuss the pitfalls of parenting (like inadvertently picking favorites). Raven's twins, Nina and Booker, are unaware of her gift, so she uses it to get the jump on them. Their shortcomings as parents are also used (and well) for laughs. Raven's good-intentioned trouble-making still spreads like a wildfire and her children get caught in the brush. With Chelsea still dimwitted and her 9-year-old son Levi light-years ahead of her, you wonder who's raising who. The buddies adorably team-up to keep things from totally falling through the cracks. That's So fans who now have their own little armies may find this material relatable. Symoné and van der Pol's chemistry is intact.
 
The kiddies may not be the preferred age, but they're darling and entertaining enough that you don't mind watching them. The matter-of-fact--and sometimes sarcastic--musings of the endearing Levi (Jason Maybaum) make for winsome humor, particularly against Booker's goofiness. Navia Robinson is a light as the sharp, mature and demure Nina, who struggles to find her place amongst her wacky bunch. She and Brown have believable love/hate "sibling" rapport. Sky Katz has a supporting part as their sassy and tough neighbor Tess, but she's a scene stealer. Her funny is unfussy and comes unpretentiously.
 
Balance and connection between these two age clusters is made by having Raven and Chelsea mother their progeny through their shenanigans. It's a smart way to follow through on continuation promises, as well as and cater to a new generation. Given Symoné and van der Pol's abilities though, they're a surer bet to appeal to both audiences. It wouldn't be risky to split the spotlight down the middle. Lucy and Ethel have more antics in them.
Watching Raven's Home, there's a comfortable, familiar energy. It's as if things picked up right where they left off, which is a relief. You can catch the series Fridays at 8pm EST on Disney Channel.

WARNING: This review contains SPOILERS.
 
Two years ago, someone at the Disney Channel had the brilliant idea to do an original movie about the children of classic villains, with Hocus Pocus and High School Musical 's Kenny Ortega directing. In case you haven't already gathered, it was aptly titled Descendants. To give you a semi-brief synopsis, all "V.K'S" (a cute, villainous spin on the acronym for "preacher's kid") and their parents are banished to the Isle of the Lost, created by Belle and Beast (yep, that Belle and Beast). Their son, Ben, invites 4 V.K.'s to participate in his reform program of sorts, in the celestial land of Auradon. Maleficent (played by the always magnificent Kristin Chenoweth) sees this as an opportunity for her daughter, Mal (Dove Cameron), to attain Fairy Godmother's wand to break the isle's barrier. Evil Queen (Kathy Najimy) encourages her appearance-obsessed teen Evie (Sofia Carson) to find a prince, while Cruella De Vil (Wendy Raquel Robinson) urges her son Carlos (Cameron Boyce) to stay away from dogs. Jafar (Maz Jobrani) wants his thieving spawn, Jay (Booboo Stewart), to come back with some goodies. Each youth feels immense pressure to live up to their parent's iconic wickedness; Mal in particular. Executing Maleficent's plan runs accordingly, but the kiddos warm up to Auradon. Mal develops feelings for Ben, Evie learns she can rely on herself, Jay successfully channels his aggression into sports, and Carlos grows an affinity for dogs and explores his aptitudes in technology. The so-called "good kids" antagonize and snobbishly turn their backs on them though, including those that seemingly befriended them. This gives the quartet affirmation in their plot, and you're ready to see them succeed. However, they choose Auradon when push comes to shove. Mal goes on a tangent about how amazing love is, which whiffs of Disney's history with problematic romance tropes. To boot, she turns her mother into a small reptile. The rest of the parents are left watching their offspring party at a coronation on television. This is supposed to be the "right" outcome, but it doesn't feel that way. You're a little disgruntled the kids abandoned their parents and neutered themselves to stay where they weren't wanted. Then, before Mal's eyes glow green, you hear the hopeful final line: "You didn't think this was the end of the story...did you?"
 
Descendants 2 (written also by Josann McGibbon and Sara Parriott) opens with our V.K.'s turning Auradon's citizens out with "bad" apples, but it's just a daydream of Mal's. Her trademark purple hair has been dyed blonde and her leather duds have been swapped out for frilly, bright-colored dresses. Her high-profile romance with Ben has escalated to her impending status as a Lady of the Court, which is described as an "engagement to be engaged." She tries to confide in her friends that it's all making her skin crawl, but they've blissfully assimilated. Evie even admonishes Mal for not handing over her spell-book to the local museum, like Evie did her magic mirror. The museum...where there's an exhibit dedicated to the exile of their parents. *Shakes head* Instead of making mischief, Mal's been using the book to shape herself into a cookie-cutter Stepford girlfriend, but that doesn't matter to Ben. He makes it clear he wants no part of "Mally from the Block:" "I was giving you props for fitting in so well...this isn't the Isle of the Lost!" Prince Not-So-Charming doesn't realize how condescending his remarks were until he gets Mal's "Dear John" letter, relaying that she's gone back to her 'hood. He enlists her squad to help him find her and apologize. Mal ends up having to save his tail, as he's been kidnapped for wand ransom by Uma (China Anne McClain). Uma's the daughter of Ursula, and she has a long-standing beef with Mal. Her henchmen--I mean, pals--are the sons of Captain Hook and Gaston, Harry (Thomas Doherty) and Gil (Dylan Playfair).