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Michael Steele's avatar

When I describe why I’m so fond of Jenny Nicholson, my argument almost always ends in Vampire Diaries. I don’t care about Vampire Diaries; I have no plans to watch Vampire Diaries. But when Jenny Nicholson talks about Vampire Diaries for 2.5 hours, I am enthralled. Her affection leaps off the screen thanks to the intricacy of her expertise. Nobody scrutinizes and yarn-boards and researches a show with that level of fervor if they don’t love it. Another creator, Jeffiot, recently did a massive tier list of SAW traps. His dwindling charity toward the low budget horror franchise takes only a few movies to perceive. He stops hiding it by movie five.

In both cases, I watched their corresponding videos fully aware that I would never watch the media that inspired them. My only engagement with Vampire Diaries will be Jenny Nicholson’s narration; Jeffiot’s eyes watched SAW so I don’t have to. It’s almost a relief: because they spoil everything, I’m never tempted to watch. Why bother? I know what happens, I know what to watch for, and I know all the primary whys that would otherwise string me along like Pavlov’s pooch. I don’t need to watch what has thoroughly been dissected already.

That’s how I approached your piece. I read it like every person reading my dissection of Wicker Park: with no intention to watch it. I had no idea what Alien Stage was, what platform it played on, how long each installment runs, even what language it played in. I would read, find a few details to chew on, champion an incredible line like “This song's like coffee to my nose. Bitter, aromatic, and caffeinating.” and then watch some video essay on YouTube chasing the same high another person’s exhilaration and analysis offers me a hit on.

But unlike those videos I mentioned, yours wasn’t a hmm and scram; it was like listening to my favorite critics endorse a movie they eventually give an A-. There was so much there that intrigued me from the thematic implications to the world building to why you were capitalizing the showrunner(?)’s name that way. The construction of a tournament like Masked Singer that runs not as mindless entertainment but a musical, emotional reality TV clash staged for sadistic aliens who almost literally crave our tears? That’s fascinating! Your description of the art and the efficiency of its storycraft intrigued me. I clicked on a link, which is one click more than Jenny Nicholson or Jeffiot got from me.

And I watched Round 1. I knew everything that was going to happen. I didn’t need any world-building to understand the stakes. I saw darkness through the beautiful song and idyllic setting the opened it. I knew the blood would splash eventually.

I teared up before the violence. I gasped when red streaked her face. I felt this knot of bitter,

dread when she crumpled to the stage, and it twisted into anger when I saw the laughing monsters in the crowd. The video was four minutes; at some points it’s barely animated. Yet that was incredible, tense, economical storytelling. Your guide certainly helped, but it included the exact details it needed to tell what I might argue is a chillingly complete story touching all of the themes you highlighted. When her collar locks, with the benign innocuous click, my heart sunk even lower as I felt her futility. It was no different than collaring a dog.

I plan to watch the other rounds later. I’m letting this one sink in for the moment.

Bravo on convincing me to actually check out an object of second-hand affection. Rare are the voices capable of getting that out of me.

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