The Top 10 Star Wars Musical Moments

Having just completed my most recent semimonthly rewatch of the Star Wars trilogy (that’s the Original variety, naturally), and in anticipation of The Force Awakens this December, I present another Top Ten list.  No, not a Top Ten ranking of the films in existence – the correct answer, by the way, is 5, 4, 6, 3, 2, Clone Wars, 1 – but a more musically minded listing.

The task was arduous, though, and I couldn’t bear to throw that many children to the wolves. Rather than rank the ten best tracks from 797 minutes of movies, I’m going to break this down by film. Here we present the first in an ongoing series of lists, “The Top 10 Star Wars Musical Moments!” (Look at it this way, you’re getting more posts – one for each movie!)

A note on sources:  we’re talking, of course, about the music composed by John Williams and performed by the London Symphony Orchestra. For source/cue division, I’m using both the 1993 four-disc “Anthology” box set and the 2004 two-disc “Special Edition” reissue editions, so track listings may vary for those playing the home game.

10. “Imperial Attack”
 Before we had “The Imperial March,” we had to “settle” for this motif for the evil Empire. And I say “settle” in scare quotes because even when John Williams outdoes himself as he would in Empire Strikes Back, the original ain’t bad, either. Bassoons and trombones – the lower end of the brass section – dominate, with the occasional four-note punctuation mark indicating a transition to the Death Star. Those four notes also herald the first appearance of Darth Vader on screen, so it sets the tone wonderfully for the antagonists of the film.

9. “Destruction of Alderaan”
 Here’s perhaps an offbeat choice for a Top 10 list, but I’ve always found it deliciously effective in its place. At the moment when Princess Leia is asked to betray the Rebellion to save her homeworld of Alderaan, the music spirals into confusion before the militaristic notes of the Empire take over and blast the planet to smithereens. It’s a small moment musically – only about a minute long – but Williams smartly conveys the murderous power of the Death Star in the construction of the score.

8. “The Little People Work”
 I’ve always been partial to this, ostensibly a theme song for the Jawas. Played on reedy instruments with a swirling and ambling quality, this is a crystallized example of Williams’s ability to communicate musically, one of those moments that works equally well without dialogue – indeed, the film has none, aside from the occasional nonverbal jabber and cry of “Utinni!” It tells us so much about the Jawas, implying a life of scavenging and work-as-play while inviting us just what awaits our repossessed droid companions.

7. “The Throne Room”
 This wonderful announcement of accomplishment fits just brilliantly at the end of a grand epic as at the conclusion of a long night of paper drafting (take it from someone who’s experienced both). It’s impossible not to recall the wry infectious grins of Luke and Han as they receive their medals, nor can a listener not feel a swell of pride through this ostentatious reworking of the “Force theme” (see below). Its reuse at the end of Revenge of the Sith’s soundtrack suggests that Williams regarded this as proper ceremony for the end of a long journey.

6. “The Battle of Yavin”
 You might think it cheating to put a ten-minute action cue on a Top 10 list (honey, wait’ll you see what I do for The Empire Strikes Back), but the entire climax of the film succeeds on the back of Williams’s score. The fighter pilots’ run on the Death Star is tense enough with death-by-turbolaser lurking around every swoop and dive, but it’s the Williams score that draws out the tension, kindly pausing to mourn the death of a fighter with an honorific fanfare before giving us that relentless bum-bum-bum as the final moments of the battle are decided. Finally, a wonderful breath of relief when the Death Star explodes is announced by the piece’s twinkling last notes. And it works just as well without the visuals – in your car, for one.

5. “Rescue of the Princess”
 Here we’ve got a collision of motifs – Luke’s theme, Leia’s theme, and the Imperial fanfare – in a medley that communicates the entire plot of the film. Luke’s theme creeps into the Empire’s, encounters Leia, and blasts back through the Empire to freedom. That Williams conveys this as well as, if not better than, the film proper is testament to his genius. It’s a nice climax of sorts for Luke’s heroic journey – he rescues the princess in a sweeping moment of majesty – but ends with a reminder that the real battle is yet to come.

4. “Ben’s Death/TIE Fighter Attack”
 After a kind of musical prologue representing the tragic moment in which Luke witnesses the death of his mentor, this smaller action cue gives us a relentless sense of impending danger and nonstop science-fiction action to underscore the well-directed attack sequence. It’s worth noting that when Family Guy did their spoof of Star Wars, they really didn’t have a joke to go with this scene other than Peter Griffin as Han Solo singing along to the score. This has always been my favorite action cue from A New Hope, in part because of its appearance during the Death Star run of Star Tours.

3. “Cantina Band”
 The mere fact that you’re already hearing this infectious Benny-Goodman-in-space tune in your head justifies its presence on this list.

2. “Main Title”
 From the epic fanfare blast that opens the film, John Williams’s score sets the stage for the saga to come. With the equivalent of a brass drumroll building to the instantly iconic main theme, the “Star Wars” theme defined for a generation what science fiction scores ought to sound like. It would, of course, go on to recur in each subsequent installment, but never to such great effect as upon its debut. When Marvel Comics unveiled their new Star Wars comics, they did so with a full page of “A long time ago...” followed by a two-page spread of the “Star Wars” logo over a starry background; while some might have found that a waste of three pages, I felt chills move up my arms because the comic captured precisely what the film did, and as I heard the John Williams score in my head I murmured to myself, “This is Star Wars.”

1. “Binary Sunset”
Naming the main title my #1 moment might have been a bit too predictable, but I can safely say that no musical moment defines the first film – and perhaps the entire saga – better than “Binary Sunset.” Utilizing the “Force Theme” to great effect, Williams captures the longing of Luke Skywalker and the promise of the great adventure that awaits him. It’s combined poetically with the image of the eponymous twin suns setting, allowing the genre atmosphere to collide with the plot mechanics and the technical splendor. The Force Awakens needs a “Binary Sunset” moment, a single image with a piece of music that distills the entire filmic experience.

Hit the comments section to tell me your favorite Star Wars musical moment! And be sure to subscribe up above to make sure you don’t miss my “Top 10 Empire Strikes Back Musical Moments!”

Inside Out (2015)

There was a joke going around the Internet a few days ago that Pixar began its career by asking, “What if toys had feelings?” before turning to bugs, cars, and fish. Now, the punchline claims, Pixar is turning their gaze inward to ask, “What if emotions had feelings?” Every good joke, of course, has a grain of truth to it, and the fact of the matter is that Pixar has always been rather good at probing the emotional depth of the quotidian, and going meta is an inevitable move. What’s also inevitable is that writer/director Pete Docter (of Up and Monsters Inc. fame) has done a first-rate job of it.

When Riley turns eleven and her family moves from Minnesota to San Francisco, the emotions in her head go along for the ride too. At the helm is Riley’s dominant emotion Joy (Amy Poehler), in charge of regulating Riley’s mood and creating her “core memories.” Also manning the buttons are Fear (Bill Hader), Anger (Lewis Black), and Disgust (Mindy Kaling), but it’s Sadness (Phyllis Smith) who seems to be influencing Riley more than Joy would like, leading the emotions into disagreement as Riley begins a new life on the West Coast.

Let’s get the preliminary advisory out of the way – yes, I cried. It didn’t seem like I would, for the longest time in the film, which was not to Inside Out’s detriment at all, but then that trademark Pixar sucker punch arrives right at the climax, and blimey. If the film doesn’t strike that chord with you, I worry for the state of your emotions; honestly I do. It’s interesting that this has become the benchmark of success for me in evaluating a Pixar film, and I suppose it’s due to the apparent distinction between “kid’s movie” and “proper film” that I notice (but reject out of hand) the older I get. Take, for example, the smattering of trailers presented before my showing of Inside Out – Minions, Hotel Transylvania 2, Shaun the Sheep, Pan, and Peanuts. Aside from my Charles Schulz nostalgia, I didn’t feel anything but boredom; there is a caliber of storytelling that Pixar films more often than not inhabit, stories told without room for cynicism or cheap gimmicks.

One senses, for instance, that a great deal of thought has gone into Inside Out, with its surprisingly nimble adaptation of how our emotions and memories operate within our own headspace. Though there is little by way of scientific precision in the film, there is a great deal of “truthiness” to the proceedings, as when the film offers an imaginative explanation for why we forget some things but spontaneously recall others. I almost wonder if Inside Out, by deftly portraying certain truths about our interiorities, will help young viewers understand those things about themselves that we adults have already had to learn for ourselves. (For one, the film acknowledges the way that our dreams are reconstructed from our memories – what Freud called “day residues.”) We may not have emotional sprites living in our brains, though we might be better off if we did.

While we’re on the subject of the emotions, it must be said that Amy Poehler is perhaps the best cast of any Pixar protagonist. While the Pixar casting department hasn’t really made any significant bumbles, Poehler is downright inspired as the embodiment of Joy. A kind of manic pixie Leslie Knope, Joy’s relentless enthusiasm is matched perfectly with Poehler’s breathless whimsy and at times infuriating cheeriness. It’s impossible to imagine another voice that would have worked quite so well, but she’s also complimented by a surprising turn by Phyllis Smith as Sadness. Smith turns in a nicely understated performance, playing up not deep sorrow but the exhaustion and defeat that comes with despair. Honestly, the voice cast is all around very strong, but it’s worth noting that the film succeeds largely on the chemistry between Joy and Sadness.

It’s a wonderful relationship, one that doesn’t pander to the simple good-guy/bad-guy narrative to which a lesser film studio might have resorted (heavens, could you imagine Jack Black voicing Disgust, with all the inevitable flatulence jokes that would have accompanied him?). Instead, Docter gives us something much more interesting, a movie about a relationship rather than a movie with an antagonism. There are no bad guys here because it’s all about Riley, about the complex and competing emotions within us and how we navigate our own psychological terrain. It’s surprisingly smart, a kind of “Disney’s Inception” in a way that shows off none of its brilliance because it’s too busy working to get you to feel. And on that account, Inside Out succeeds, one of the more moving entries in the Pixar canon and indeed the film community at large within recent memory.

Inside Out is rated PG for “mild thematic elements and some action.” Do with that what you will – aside from a scary clown and an entirely inoffensive joke about looming puberty, I can’t think of anything really objectionable in this movie. The theater of surprisingly well-behaved kids seemed to agree with me.

Bonus review! As always, Pixar has preceded their main feature with a short that is both whimsical and romantic. Lava is the story, narrated in Hawaiian ballad style, of a lovesick yet lonely volcano who turns his envy of happy dolphin couples into a wistful song of romance. Though not long on story, Lava manages to do that Pixar feat of distilling a host of emotions into one poignant moment that made this grown man realize, “Wait, I’m getting misty-eyed over a volcano?” Sung by Kuana Torres Kahele, Lava is beautiful and powerful and a delightful surprise to those of us who genuinely didn’t know what Pixar would have on tap before Inside Out.

The Top 10 Books (On My Shelf) That Ought to be Movies

I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately, more so than watching movies. In light of that fact, and in recognition of the fact that I’ve only been watching Game of Thrones these days, The Cinema King proudly presents “The Top 10 Books (On My Shelf) That Ought to be Movies!” (We present the books in publication order.)  Hit the comments to weigh in on my choices and to offer your own.

1.  The Violent Bear It Away (1960) by Flannery O’Connor
 Despite there being a film version of O’Connor’s first novel, Wise Blood, her masterpiece remains untouched by Hollywood. The young Francis Tarwater is sent to live with his secular uncle Rayber, where his calling as a prophet is called into question by Rayber and by a devilish lavender man in a cream-colored car. The spectacle of Tarwater’s visions, juxtaposed with the classic good-vs-evil battle for Tarwater’s soul, would make for powerful cinema, though O’Connor’s uniquely Christian themes might not fly over well with mainstream Hollywood.
Cast: Asa Butterfield as Tarwater, Dylan Baker as Rayber

2.  Jack Kirby’s Fourth World (1970-1973) by Jack Kirby
 Amid the ongoing vogue for superhero films, this wildly imaginative mythology by the King of Comics has everything – high-concept science fiction, brilliantly colorful costumed characters, lofty monomythic archetypes, and the reassuring promise that freedom will always triumph over tyranny. Most of DC Comics’ most interesting characters came from the pen of Jack Kirby in this four-year cycle of comics, including the evil god Darkseid, hellbent on conquest and death; escape artist Mister Miracle and his bride Big Barda; the Forever People, a team of hippie teens who can morph into the singular soldier Infinity Man; and Orion, the warrior god with a temper and a dark past. Come to think of it, in the wake of Daredevil and the anticipation of the rest of Marvel’s TV projects, the Fourth World could comprise a wonderful set of Netflix series!
Cast: Clancy Brown (voice) as Darkseid, Liev Schreiber as Orion, Michael B. Jordan as Mister Miracle

3.  Kindred (1979) by Octavia Butler
 The film sells itself – think science fiction meets Toni Morrison’s Beloved, and you’ve got a crossover hit. Through forces beyond her control, Dana Franklin is thrown into the past to the antebellum plantation where her ancestors were held as slaves. Between the ongoing national conversation on race and recent cinematic efforts like Django Unchained and 12 Years a Slave, Butler’s moving novel is ready and waiting for someone to breathe life into this beautiful story about how our past and our present are more closely conected than we permit ourselves to recall.
Cast: Kerry Washington as Dana, Domnhall Gleason as Rufus

4.  Middle Passage (1990) by Charles Johnson
Another slave narrative, Middle Passage ought to appeal to Pirates of the Caribbean fans for its portrayal of the illegal slave trade on the high seas, of freeman Rutherford Calhoun’s voyage with the mad yet thoughtful Captain Ebenezer Falcon in the latter’s attempt to enslave a lost African tribe, the mystic Allmuseri, and their god. The blurred line between reality and insanity, combined with the wild storms at sea, make Middle Passage both a page-turner and a deeply affective novel, and it’d be a spectacle to see.
 Cast: Chiwetel Ejiofor as Rutherford Calhoun, Peter Dinklage as Ebenezer Falcon

5.  Bone (1991-2004) by Jeff Smith
 Honestly, how this long-running fantasy comic hasn’t been adapted into a trilogy of children’s movies is beyond me. The exaggerated linework of Jeff Smith creates radiantly fun characters like Fone Bone and his cousins Phoney and Smiley while populating the setting with a rich mythology and backstory that unfolds over the story’s 1,000 pages. Plus, think of the merchandizing to be had from plush Bones and quiche recipe books! You could do Bone as an animated feature or as a live-action/animated hybrid, but the youthful wonder of Fone Bone needs to be felt by as many people as possible.
 Cast: Billy West as Fone Bone, Bradley Cooper as Phoney Bone, Frank Welker as Smiley Bone, Emma Stone as Thorn

6.  The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay (2000) by Michael Chabon
 This might be my favorite novel of all time, so I’m especially biased about this one. Chabon’s novel is a tour de force – think Moby Dick but with superhero comics, as cousins Sammy Clay and Joe Kavalier create their own superhero in 1930s New York while the specter of war looms overseas. Kavalier & Clay is a modern epic animated by the fervor surrounding the birth of the American superhero comic book. What’s more, Stan Lee makes a cameo! This is a book that demands to be read, and a film would reach a wide audience; Michael Chabon’s had some box office success before, and his greatest novel deserves the same attention.
 Cast: Miles Teller as Sammy Clay, Andrew Garfield as Joe Kavalier, Natalie Portman as Rosa Saks

7.  The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao (2007) by Junot Díaz
 Another entry in the canon of “comic book realism,” Oscar Wao is a beautiful novel about a self-proclaimed nerdboy who, like Sammy and Joe above, finds escape in superhero comics and fantasy literature. But Díaz’s greatest narrative strength is in the way he blends past and present, high and low culture, in a novel that demonstrates how inextricable we all are from each other. The witty narration by Yunior would make me rethink my policy on voiceover narration, especially if it manages to capture Díaz’s sense of humor and wonder.
 Cast: It’s got to be a cast of unknowns, to capture the novel’s slice-of-life universality

8.  Eleanor & Park (2013) by Rainbow Rowell
 Rowell’s debut novel is the story of two outcasts who find love on the school bus, facilitated by Park’s comic book collection and Eleanor’s longing for a life other than the one she has. There is something of John Green’s The Fault in Our Stars here in this star-crossed romance, though without the weepy sentimentalism or the throngs of cult-like devotees. Rowell displays a gift for turns of phrase that capture the quotidian majesty of true love, “how she went from someone he’d never met to the only one who mattered.” You can see the tagline now.
  Cast: Another cast of unknowns, because the youth of the characters is so important

9.  Ms. Marvel (2014) by G. Willow Wilson and Adrian Alphona
 In a genre where it often seems like all the good ideas have already been taken, Ms. Marvel is an amazing breath of fresh air. Kamala Khan, superhero fangirl and all-around likeable lass, is empowered by a mysterious mist which allows her to transform into her idol, Ms. Marvel. Kamala’s journey of self-discovery, combined with Wilson’s wry and peculiar humor, remind us that the best hero to be is yourself (even if her high heels are “politically incorrect”). Though Alphona’s drawings are much of the fun of Ms. Marvel, the character’s spunky personality ought to transfer easily to film, especially given the Marvel Cinematic Universe’s proven track record and gift for the comedic.
 Cast: I plead ignorance for Kamala Khan (Hollywood, you must not whitewash this girl)

10.  The Sculptor (2015) by Scott McCloud
I’m a smidgeon too late on this one, having just read it’s been optioned for a movie already – then again, so have most of the books on this list, at one point or another. Either way, McCloud’s latest work of fiction is a heartrending story of ambition and the very human need to make life significant as artist David Smith trades his life for greatness before falling in love with Meg. While Meg borders on manic-pixie-dream-girl, her relationship with David draws out the clever subversion of that trope, and the staggering visuals of David’s art would look glorious on a big screen.
 Cast: Dane DeHaan as David, Shailene Woodley as Meg

Thanks for joining us this Monday! What are your favorite books that haven’t been made into films just yet?

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004)

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, the third of eight films in the Harry Potter series, represents in a lot of ways a changing of the guard:  Alfonso Cuarón takes the directorial reins from Chris Columbus, Michael Gambon assumes the role of Albus Dumbledore, and a general mood of darkness falls over the franchise.  And really, only one of these things is less than ideal, because Azkaban feels the most accomplished of the three Harry Potter films thus far.

Though the wizarding world at large is content to conceal the truth from Harry, Ron, and Hermione (Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson), the recent escape of Sirius Black (Gary Oldman) from the wizard prison Azkaban puts them all in great danger – Black was imprisoned for betraying Harry’s parents and facilitating their deaths at the hands of the dark lord Voldemort. With soul-sucking Dementors prowling Hogwarts in search of the escaped convict, Harry must confront the untold secrets of his past, while new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor Remus Lupin (David Thewlis) teaches him to repel the Dementors.

Cuarón, who struck gold two years ago with the breathtaking Gravity, is perhaps an unlikely choice to take the helm on a major kid-friendly franchise; though well-known at the time for his hard-R Y tu mama también, he had already acquitted himself well with the fantastical The Little Princess (the VHS tape of which still holds fond memories for my sister and me, worn out though it may be). In fact, one might be forgiven for thinking that Azkaban was directed by Tim Burton, for Cuarón replaces Columbus’s austere candlelit corridors with dark and angular shadows, winding passageways, and a color palette more night than day.

It’s a marked difference from the style Columbus worked to cultivate, a style that fit the source material quite well, but I appreciate Cuarón’s decision to innovate visually and take Hogwarts in a moodier direction. It helps the franchise feel less like a kiddy-movie and moves it into a more mature and, I think, more interesting direction. As much as I appreciated it in the first two films, there is only so much wide-eyed wonderment that Harry Potter can be allowed before he grows up and accepts the wizarding world as his new normal. Cuarón’s play with shadows and his modified colors give us the sense of a world being lived-in, being inhabited.

The elephant in the room here is, of course, the recasting of Dumbledore after the unfortunate passing of Richard Harris. It’s important to recognize that Gambon is doing something different with Dumbledore – a more knowing, more wearied headmaster to Harris’s kinder, gentler Dumbledore – but I have to concede that it is not to my liking. I’d have preferred Peter O’Toole inherit the role (as, I understand, Harris’s family lobbied), for there is something about Gambon’s temperament that strikes a false chord for me, something almost perplexingly youthful in a character who shouldn’t be. Gambon isn’t patently bad as Dumbledore, and for that reason the revolt will have to wait for now.

I’d also like to levy a modest complaint about the underuse of the always commendable Gary Oldman, whose turn as Sirius Black amounts to little more than a cameo. This is a minor grievance, a clash of the role’s smallness in the book juxtaposed with the screen presence of Oldman. He is, of course, cast as a guarantee for future films, but one can’t help but wish Prisoner of Azkaban had just a bit more of said prisoner in the film.

These are, though, as I’ve said, small nits to pick in a film which is otherwise highly enjoyable. My personal favorite of the series (at least, on memory – I’ve only seen the next five films once each), Prisoner of Azkaban is well-crafted and engaging, with a central mystery that holds up on rewatch and a visual style that sells the film even without the ever-capable score by John Williams. On the whole, I’m feeling rather good about reviewing the Harry Potter series.

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is rated PG for “frightening moments, creature violence and mild language.” There are some jump scenes in this one, including an attack from a wolf-like creature and an enormous dog, to say nothing of the appearance of the Dementors (ghostly, soul-devouring prison guards) in a few scenes. The film also includes a hippogriff (half eagle, half horse) which is meant to be gentle once one sees past the gruff exterior, the threat of execution, and an escaped demented prisoner.

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (2002)

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets could go, as a sequel, one of three ways – as good as the first one if not a little better, leaps and bounds better than the first, or a dreadful second coming. The first one, Sorcerer’s Stone, was actually quite good, but the second one improves on the first by jumping straight into the plot, which is:

Harry Potter (Daniel Radcliffe) ignores several warnings not to return to Hogwarts for his second year at the wizarding school, even hitching a ride in a flying car owned by the family of his chum Ron Weasley (Rupert Grint). But upon arrival and reuniting with Hermione Granger (Emma Watson), Harry finds that a dark secret from Hogwarts’s past has resurfaced, and students are beginning to fall now that the “Chamber of Secrets” has been opened.

First of all, I lightly complained that much of Sorcerer’s Stone felt a little plotless, meandering and reveling in the world-building until the somewhat plot-heavy third act. Chamber of Secrets immediately rectifies that and dives headlong into the plot – revealing, in fact, that we’ve already been in the midst of the plot because of the long history of Hogwarts. The film’s opening scene finds Harry being told by the house elf Dobby that he must not return, with the movie containing a dual mystery of the identity of Salazar Slytherin’s heir and what it means for said heir to open the Chamber of Secrets. The mystery angle here is perhaps sharper than in the first one, foregrounded as it is through each of the character interactions and classroom sequences, as when Maggie Smith’s Professor McGonagall provides a mini-exposition lecture on the stakes of the attacks plaguing students.

As a result, the atmosphere is grimmer the second time around, though returning director Chris Columbus doesn’t make it unbearable or inconsistent with the first. There remains the sense of wonderment amid great danger – something key, I think, for a film which is ostensibly a children’s movie but wants to retain that adult audience – and there are several shots of the castle interiors that are frankly beautiful. Additionally, the film is wisely aware of the need to do things differently while retaining many of the familiar trappings; for instance, there’s another Quidditch match (as, I expect, there is in every film), but it’s satisfyingly different from Harry’s first outing on a broomstick.

The best addition made by Chamber of Secrets, about which I cannot say enough, is that of Kenneth Branagh as new professor Gilderoy Lockhart. In what feels a bit like a caricature of his own often self-aggrandizing Bardolatry, Branagh is uproariously funny as the infinitely conceited Lockhart, who quotes liberally from his own collected works, citing his own marvelous deeds, and blustering his way past anyone who so much as intimates he might be slightly full of it. I’ve talked about scene stealers on this blog before, but Branagh practically reinvents the concept and walks away with the film entire with this performance. It bears repeating, because I’m not exaggerating here; every sequence with Gilderoy Lockhart had me in fits of hysterics.  Chamber of Secrets is worth the watch, if only for Branagh’s exceedingly delightful performance.

Fortunately, there are many other elements worth enjoying in Chamber of Secrets. Columbus’s swan song for the franchise is a fine note on which to end for him, the rest of the supporting cast are quite charming in their own way, and the world of Harry Potter feels deeper for all that the film contributes to the larger mythology of the character.

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets is rated PG for “scary moments, some creature violence and mild language.” The plot is darker than the first one, with students frozen in death-like trances; several scary creatures, including giant spiders and an enormous snake, haunt the castle this time around. Again, “bloody hell” is invoked.