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Tag: movies

  • “Thunderbolts*”: A Deep Dive into the Psyche of Marvel’s Anti-Heroes

    In a refreshing departure from the multiverse-spanning sagas and often lighthearted banter of recent Marvel Cinematic Universe entries, “Thunderbolts”* emerges as a surprisingly grounded and emotionally resonant film. Directed by Jake Schreier, this ensemble piece brings together a collection of anti-heroes and morally ambiguous figures, forcing them to confront not just external threats, but the profound psychological scars and memories that define them. Critics have largely lauded the film for its bold dive into mental health, trauma, and the complex inner lives of its characters, signaling a potentially new direction for the MCU.

    The film’s premise sees Yelena Belova (Florence Pugh), Bucky Barnes (Sebastian Stan), Red Guardian (David Harbour), Ghost (Hannah John-Kamen), Taskmaster (Olga Kurylenko), and John Walker (Wyatt Russell) ensnared in a dangerous mission orchestrated by the manipulative CIA director Valentina Allegra de Fontaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfus). What initially appears to be a standard team-up quickly unravels into a fight for survival that compels each member to confront the “darkest corners of their pasts.”

    Unpacking the Psyche: Trauma, Loneliness, and Redemption

    “Thunderbolts*” distinguishes itself by making mental health and trauma central to its narrative. Reviewers consistently highlight how the film “plunge[s] so deeply into its characters’ mental health issues,” treating them with a “sincere and heartfelt” approach. This is not merely a plot device but a fundamental aspect of who these characters are and how they operate.

    • Yelena Belova (Florence Pugh): As the film’s emotional anchor, Yelena’s journey is deeply rooted in her past as a Black Widow assassin. She grapples with the grim memories of her indoctrination, including a particularly haunting flashback where she was forced to lead a friend to their death. Her coping mechanisms, like throwing herself into work and alcohol, are depicted as a desperate attempt to avoid her pain, leading to a “psychological dissociation” and a sense of “emptiness.” The film beautifully explores her search for connection and redemption, portraying her as a “broken figure” who yearns for purpose beyond her violent past.
    • Bob / The Sentry / The Void (Lewis Pullman): Perhaps the most psychologically complex character, Bob embodies the film’s exploration of mental illness. He is a former addict with immense power, but also carries a “deep inner pain” from an abusive childhood. His alter ego, The Void, is a literal manifestation of his “depression and insecurities,” capable of trapping people in “pocket dimensions based on their worst memories.” The film delves into Bob’s internal struggle, showing how his avoidance of traumatic memories leads to his destructive tendencies. The climax, where Yelena enters Bob’s consciousness to confront his past, is a surreal and impactful sequence that visually represents the battle against internalized trauma.
    • Red Guardian (David Harbour): Alexei struggles with feelings of inadequacy and being a “failed father” figure. His desire to restore former greatness and his complex relationship with Yelena add layers to his character, showing a man stuck in the past yet striving for connection.
    • John Walker (Wyatt Russell): The film delves into the fallout of Walker’s past actions, revealing how untreated trauma has led to his boastful demeanor and the dissolution of his family life.
    • Ghost (Hannah John-Kamen): Her struggles with her artificial origins and the fear of never being complete are also touched upon, adding to the ensemble’s collective sense of brokenness.

    The film uses Bob’s unique ability to access others’ darkest memories as a narrative device, forcing characters to relive their past regrets and traumas. This not only provides audiences with a deeper understanding of their motivations but also highlights how “past traumas can be detrimental long after they’re over.”

    A Shift in the MCU’s Emotional Landscape

    “Thunderbolts*” is praised for its willingness to embrace “dark human emotions” and explore themes of loneliness, grief, and the importance of companionship. It’s a film that suggests “human connection really was powerful enough to save the world,” emphasizing that even the strongest individuals “sometimes need help.” This focus on the “human elements” over excessive CGI spectacle marks a welcome shift for many critics, who see it as a return to the character-driven storytelling that defined earlier phases of the MCU.

    While the film is not without its minor flaws – some critics note an “unwieldy jumble” in its initial act, a “drab” visual palette, and some “formulaic” plot points – its commitment to exploring the psychological dimensions of its anti-heroes makes it a “refreshing misfit hit.” “Thunderbolts*” is lauded as “one of the best MCU movies in a long time,” offering a “genuinely emotional story” that resonates with audiences and provides a compelling look at what happens when flawed individuals are forced to confront their inner demons and find strength in unity.

  • “Y2K”: A Nostalgic Trip into Tech Chaos with Mixed Results

    As the clock ticks down to the new millennium, the anxieties surrounding the infamous Y2K bug take a hilariously absurd and unexpectedly violent turn in A24’s latest offering, “Y2K.” Directed by Kyle Mooney (“Saturday Night Live”), this action-comedy-horror hybrid plunges audiences back into the last night of 1999, where a New Year’s Eve party devolves into a battle for survival against an uprising of sentient, homicidal machines. While the film delivers on its promise of nostalgic charm and some genuinely funny, gory moments, its uneven tone and underdeveloped plot leave it feeling like a promising concept that never quite finds its full groove.

    The premise is simple: two high school juniors, Eli (Jaeden Martell) and his outgoing best friend Danny (Julian Dennison), crash a New Year’s Eve party. Eli, nursing a crush on popular tech wiz Laura (Rachel Zegler), hopes for a memorable night. Instead, the dreaded Y2K bug becomes a terrifying reality, as household electronics and various machines spring to life with murderous intent. What begins as a typical teen party movie quickly transforms into a frantic, often bloody, fight for survival.

    “Y2K” is undeniably a film steeped in ’90s nostalgia, and for those who lived through the era, it’s a delightful trip down memory lane. The production design, costumes, and pop culture references are spot-on, from JNCO jeans to Limp Bizkit. Fred Durst even makes a notable, surprisingly effective cameo, leaning into the film’s self-aware absurdity. Reviewers highlight that the nostalgia feels “earned, not forced,” creating a genuine sense of time and place.

    The film’s strength lies in its horror-comedy balance, particularly in its inventive and often darkly humorous death sequences. Director Kyle Mooney, with his SNL background, demonstrates a knack for impeccable comedic timing, leading to some genuinely laugh-out-loud moments of “splat-stick” violence. The practical effects for the killer robots, reminiscent of the 1999 cult classic “Virus,” are praised for their effectiveness and physicality, blending seamlessly with minimal CGI.

    However, “Y2K” struggles with its tonal consistency and narrative depth. The film oscillates between teen rom-com, horror, and melodrama, often without fully committing to any one genre. This can lead to a scattershot feel, where emotional moments don’t always land, and the humor, at times, feels “toothless” or “over-the-top.” The plot, while offering a neat concept, is criticized for being “flimsy” and “predictable,” with some subplots feeling underdeveloped or abruptly dropped. Key character deaths, particularly early on, are noted as potentially undermining the emotional investment in the remaining cast.

    The performances from the young ensemble, including Jaeden Martell, Julian Dennison, and Rachel Zegler, are generally seen as admirable, with Dennison’s “supernova levels of onscreen charm” often singled out. However, some critics felt the script confined them to “90s-high-school-movie types,” limiting their ability to push beyond narrow parameters.

    Ultimately, “Y2K” is a film that offers a fun, chaotic, and nostalgic ride, especially for those who appreciate its specific brand of absurd horror-comedy. It’s a testament to Kyle Mooney’s unique vision and the cast’s commitment to the premise. While it may not be a perfect film, its blend of retro charm, creative kills, and unexpected laughs makes it a watchable and often entertaining experience for audiences looking to relive the anxieties and eccentricities of the turn of the millennium.

  • “Love Hurts”: Ke Huy Quan Charms in a Flawed Yet Fun Action-Comedy

    Ke Huy Quan, fresh off his triumphant, Oscar-winning return to the screen in “Everything Everywhere All at Once,” steps into his first major leading action role in “Love Hurts.” This action-comedy, directed by stunt coordinator Jonathan Eusebio, attempts to blend high-octane fights with a quirky romantic premise. While the film has its share of narrative stumbles and tonal imbalances, Quan’s undeniable charisma and impressive physical prowess elevate it into an enjoyably campy, if imperfect, cinematic experience.

    The plot centers on Marvin Gable (Ke Huy Quan), a seemingly mild-mannered and relentlessly positive real estate agent in Wisconsin. His idyllic life, however, is shattered when his past as a deadly hitman comes knocking. Specifically, a crimson envelope arrives from Rose (Ariana DeBose), a former partner-in-crime he believed he had left for dead. Her reappearance, coupled with the sudden emergence of various eccentric assassins, pulls Marvin back into the dangerous underworld he desperately tried to escape. His crime-lord brother, Knuckles (Daniel Wu), also complicates matters, forcing Marvin to confront not only his violent history but also his lingering feelings for Rose.

    One of the film’s most significant strengths lies in its action sequences. Produced by 87North, the team behind hits like “Nobody” and “Bullet Train,” “Love Hurts” delivers well-choreographed fights and impressive stunts. Quan, who showcased his martial arts skills in “Everything Everywhere All at Once,” gets ample opportunity to shine here, transitioning seamlessly from affable realtor to formidable combatant. Reviewers frequently highlight his “charm and skill” in these sequences, noting a blend of slick choreography with a slightly goofy, almost “Kick-Ass”-like imperfection that adds to the film’s unique flavor. The creative use of everyday objects as weapons – from cookie cutters to boba straws – adds a fun, distinctive touch to the violence.

    However, the film’s narrative and comedic elements receive more mixed reactions. The story is often criticized for being cliché, simplistic, and lacking depth. At a lean 83 minutes, “Love Hurts” feels rushed in its pacing, with some subplots feeling underdeveloped or abruptly cut. The humor, while aiming for over-the-top absurdity, sometimes falls flat for reviewers who found it unfunny or forced.

    The romantic subplot between Marvin and Rose, despite being central to the film’s title, is a point of contention. Many critics found the chemistry between Ke Huy Quan and Ariana DeBose unconvincing, with some noting a significant age difference that detracts from the believability of their connection. Interestingly, a secondary, more offbeat romance between Marvin’s assistant Ashley (Lio Tipton) and a poetic assassin named The Raven (Mustafa Shakir) often resonated more with audiences, leaning into the film’s inherent silliness with greater success.

    Despite these flaws, Ke Huy Quan’s performance is consistently lauded. He brings an earnest sincerity and lovable quality to Marvin Gable, making him a character audiences can genuinely root for. His ability to convey both Marvin’s mild-mannered present and his dangerous past is a testament to his acting prowess. The film also features a delightful mini-“Goonies” reunion with Sean Astin as Marvin’s boss, a small but welcome nod for fans.

    “Love Hurts” is not a groundbreaking action film, nor is it a deeply profound romantic comedy. It’s a brisk, often chaotic, and undeniably campy ride that serves primarily as a vehicle for Ke Huy Quan to further cement his status as a leading man in the action genre. For those seeking a straightforward, action-packed flick with a dose of absurdity and a charismatic lead, “Love Hurts” offers a fun, albeit flawed, escape. It’s a testament to Quan’s star power that he can make even a messy script an enjoyable watch.

  • “Soul”: The Symphony of Everyday Living

    Pixar has long been a master of blending heartfelt storytelling with profound philosophical questions, and their 2020 animated feature, Soul, is no exception. Directed by Pete Docter and Kemp Powers, this visually stunning and emotionally rich film takes audiences on an existential journey that challenges conventional notions of purpose and happiness, ultimately celebrating the quiet beauty found in simply living.

    The story centers on Joe Gardner (voiced by Jamie Foxx), a middle school band teacher with a lifelong dream of becoming a professional jazz pianist. Just as he finally gets his big break, a sudden accident sends his soul to the “Great Before” – a fantastical realm where new souls develop their personalities and “spark” before heading to Earth. There, Joe reluctantly teams up with 22 (voiced by Tina Fey), a cynical soul who has yet to find her spark and has no desire to go to Earth. Their unlikely partnership forms the core of a narrative that explores life, death, and everything in between.

    One of the most powerful messages Soul imparts is about not being hung up on a singular purpose in life. Joe’s entire identity is wrapped up in his dream of being a jazz musician. He believes that achieving this one grand goal is the only way he can truly live and find fulfillment. The film masterfully deconstructs this idea, showing how such an intense focus can blind one to the richness of existence. Through his interactions with 22, and his own unexpected journey, Joe begins to understand that a “spark” isn’t a predetermined life purpose or a specific talent. It’s not about what you do for a living, but how you live. The film gently suggests that while passions are important, defining one’s entire worth by a single ambition can be a limiting and even dangerous path.

    This leads directly to the film’s most resonant theme: finding the beauty in everyday living. 22, initially resistant to life on Earth, slowly begins to experience the simple wonders of the human world through Joe’s eyes (and senses). A perfect slice of pizza, the feeling of wind, the taste of a lollipop, the warmth of a hug, the sound of leaves rustling – these seemingly mundane moments become profound revelations. It’s in these small, unassuming details that the true “spark” of life is discovered. The film argues that happiness isn’t found solely in monumental achievements or grand purposes, but in the accumulation of these quiet, sensory experiences that make up the fabric of our daily lives.

    From my perspective, Soul is a profound and necessary film for our achievement-driven society. It’s a beautiful reminder that life isn’t a checklist of accomplishments to be completed, but a journey to be experienced. The film’s animation is, as expected from Pixar, breathtaking, with vibrant colors in the “Great Before” contrasting with the gritty realism of New York City. The jazz score is also a character in itself, perfectly complementing Joe’s passion and the film’s soulful atmosphere.

    In conclusion, Soul is a poignant and deeply moving exploration of what it means to be alive. It encourages us to release the pressure of finding one definitive “purpose” and instead embrace the countless small joys that make life worth living. It’s a film that leaves you with a renewed appreciation for the present moment, reminding us that every day, in its simplicity, holds the potential for a perfect, sparkling experience.

  • Final Destination: Bloodlines Review – A Gruesome Return

    The Grim Reaper is back, and critics are singing its praises. Final Destination: Bloodlines, the sixth installment in the long-running horror franchise, has arrived in 2025 with directors Zach Lipovsky and Adam Stein at the helm, and it’s being hailed as a fresh, brutal, and surprisingly emotional return to form. Moving beyond simple premonitions of impending disaster, Bloodlines delves into a deeper, familial connection to Death’s intricate plan, offering a compelling homage to its predecessors while delivering its signature message: be wary of death, for it always gets its due.

    Reviews indicate a significant shift in critical reception for the franchise, with Bloodlines boasting an impressive 93% on Rotten Tomatoes – a stark contrast to previous entries, and a testament to its ability to win over even skeptical critics. The film reportedly achieves this by blending the gruesome creativity fans expect with a surprisingly emotional core, making the brutal, elaborate kills feel more personal than ever before.

    The core premise remains, with a college student named Stefani (Kaitlyn Santa Juana) plagued by recurring nightmares of a catastrophic tower collapse in the 1960s. She soon discovers these are inherited premonitions, and her family is now on Death’s hit list, their lives intricately tied to an incident decades prior where her grandmother, Iris (Brec Bassinger in flashbacks), saved a group of people from their destined demise. The twist this time? Death isn’t just coming for the survivors; it’s coming for their entire “bloodline,” often in chronological order from oldest to youngest within the family.

    My take on Final Destination: Bloodlines is that it brilliantly pays homage to previous Final Destination films while evolving the formula. The film’s opening sequence, reportedly a “belter” that rivals the franchise’s best, sets the stage with the meticulous, Rube Goldberg-esque death traps fans adore. From rogue coins to precarious chandeliers, the premonition is a masterclass in tension, delivering exactly what viewers come for. Moreover, the film is littered with subtle (and not-so-subtle) Easter eggs and references to iconic deaths from past installments, like a truck carrying logs – a clear nod to Final Destination 2. These nods are not just fan service; they reinforce the idea that this is a connected universe, potentially tying all previous films into a larger, overarching scheme orchestrated by Death.

    Beyond the thrills, Bloodlines truly functions as a film that teaches one to be wary of death. The franchise has always played on the inevitability of mortality, but by focusing on a family bloodline, this installment heightens the stakes and makes the threat more visceral. When the characters aren’t just random strangers but connected individuals, their desperate attempts to cheat Death, and their subsequent gruesome ends, become more impactful. The film is a chilling reminder that no matter how much we try to control our fate, Death is a relentless, unseen force that cannot be truly evaded. The creative and increasingly absurd methods of demise serve as a constant, morbid lesson in the fragility of life.

    The film is also notable for the poignant inclusion of the late Tony Todd as William Bludworth, the enigmatic mortician who has been a staple of the series. Reviews highlight his scene as a “quietly powerful” moment, with producer Craig Perry revealing that Todd’s lines were largely unscripted, a personal message from the actor to his fans, making his final cinematic appearance deeply moving. This adds a layer of unexpected gravitas, reinforcing the film’s underlying theme of mortality and the preciousness of life.

    While some critics note a lean into more comedic elements, and perhaps a slight lack of thematic depth compared to its predecessors, the overall consensus is that Final Destination: Bloodlines injects new life into a beloved franchise. It’s a brutal, energetic, and darkly comedic ride that understands its audience, delivers on its patented “inevitable death” mechanics, and offers a compelling expansion of the Final Destination lore. It’s a gory, entertaining reminder that Death waits for no one, and sometimes, the best we can do is enjoy every second we have.

  • “Perfect Days”: A Quiet Revolution in the Pursuit of Happiness

    “Perfect Days”: A Quiet Revolution in the Pursuit of Happiness

    Wim Wenders’ 2023 film, Perfect Days, has captivated audiences and critics alike with its serene, meditative portrayal of a Tokyo public toilet cleaner named Hirayama, played with masterful subtlety by Koji Yakusho (who rightly won Best Actor at Cannes for the role). The film, nominated for an Oscar for Best International Feature, is a gentle yet profound cinematic experience, inviting viewers to slow down and find beauty in the seemingly mundane. Beyond its elegant aesthetics and soothing rhythm, Perfect Days offers a compelling challenge to prevalent social expectations, asserting that true happiness isn’t found in material wealth or societal status, but in the profound satisfaction of a simple, intentional life.

    Reviewers universally laud the film’s almost hypnotic quality. We follow Hirayama through his meticulously ordered daily routine: waking to the sound of a distant broom, watering his collection of small plants, selecting a cassette tape for his morning drive (classic rock and folk, from Lou Reed to Nina Simone, form a beautiful soundtrack), diligently cleaning Tokyo’s strikingly architectural public restrooms, taking photos of komorebi (the sunlight filtering through leaves) during his lunch break, and unwinding with a book. This repetitive structure, rather than feeling tiresome, becomes a comforting ritual, a testament to the beauty that can be found in consistency and dedication.

    My take on Perfect Days is that it powerfully challenges the norms of social expectations. In a world that often equates success with career advancement, high income, and accumulating possessions, Hirayama’s life is a radical counter-narrative. He finds immense satisfaction and dignity in a blue-collar job that many might deem undesirable or lowly. The film doesn’t romanticize poverty or preach asceticism; instead, it showcases a deliberate choice to derive meaning from the task at hand, from contributing to the cleanliness and order of his city, and from the small, overlooked details of his existence. He is not driven by external validation or the need to impress; his contentment is internal and self-sustaining. This is a significant message in societies often caught in a relentless pursuit of “more.”

    The film meticulously demonstrates how the main character finds happiness and satisfaction in life doing blue-collar work. Hirayama approaches his job with a Zen-like focus, transforming the act of cleaning into a form of meditation. He is present in every moment, whether he’s scrubbing a toilet, carefully arranging his tools, or simply observing the world around him. This dedication elevates his work from a mere chore to a meaningful contribution. He takes pride in his labor, and that pride is a profound source of his happiness. This portrayal is a quiet but firm rebuttal to the idea that fulfillment is exclusive to white-collar professions or high-status endeavors.

    Furthermore, Perfect Days profoundly illustrates that happiness is not found in the material but in living simply. Hirayama’s apartment is modest, his possessions few but cherished (his cassette player, his books, his camera). He doesn’t chase fleeting trends or external validation. Instead, his joy stems from the tangible: the warmth of a bath, the taste of a simple meal, the beauty of natural light, the pages of a well-loved book, and the melodies of his favorite songs. The film subtly critiques consumerism by showing how a life unburdened by excessive material desires can lead to a deeper appreciation for the simple, often free, pleasures of existence.

    While some might interpret Hirayama’s solitary life as lonely, as some reviewers have noted, the film subtly suggests a chosen solitude—a space where he cultivates inner peace. Brief, poignant interactions with others, like his young, more boisterous colleague, his estranged sister, or even strangers he encounters, hint at a past and a rich inner life that the film doesn’t fully reveal, leaving much for the audience to contemplate. This ambiguity only deepens the film’s power, allowing viewers to project their own understanding onto Hirayama’s serene, yet sometimes melancholic, expressions.

    In essence, Perfect Days is a cinematic balm for the modern soul. It’s an invitation to pause, observe, and reconsider what truly constitutes a “perfect day.” Through Hirayama’s quiet dedication and profound appreciation for the unassuming, Wim Wenders delivers a timeless message: that the richest life may well be the one lived most simply, mindfully, and with dignity in every moment, no matter how ordinary it may seem.

  • The Wedding Banquet 2025: A Modern LGBTQ+ Love Story

    Andrew Ahn’s 2025 reimagining of Ang Lee’s beloved 1993 classic, The Wedding Banquet, has arrived, and according to critics, it’s a tender, heartfelt, and refreshingly modern take on a timeless story. While some reviews note a slight shift in comedic tone, the overwhelming consensus points to a film that champions LGBTQ+ culture, showcases remarkable casting diversity, and offers a poignant homage to its predecessor while reflecting the significant progress in same-sex marriage and family structures.

    The original Wedding Banquet was groundbreaking for its portrayal of a gay Taiwanese-American man entering a marriage of convenience to appease his traditional parents. The 2025 version, co-written by Ahn and original co-writer James Schamus, brings this premise firmly into the 21st century. Instead of just one gay couple, we now have two queer couples – Min (Han Gi-chan) and Chris (Bowen Yang), and Angela (Kelly Marie Tran) and Lee (Lily Gladstone) – entangled in a similar, yet evolved, web of family expectations, immigration hurdles, and the very modern pursuit of starting a family through IVF.

    One of the most praised aspects of the 2025 film is its unapologetic championing of LGBTQ+ culture. Reviewers highlight how the film effortlessly tackles issues facing queer communities today, from non-traditional family planning to navigating relationships with parents and grandparents, and the complexities of identity beyond binary labels. As one review put it, the film presents an “expansive and hopeful vision of queer family,” a significant evolution from the original’s more concealed dynamics. This iteration moves beyond the need for secrecy and into a joyful, open portrayal of queer love and the diverse possibilities for happiness.

    My take on this is that it’s precisely what contemporary queer cinema needs. In an era where LGBTQ+ rights are still debated and, in some places, under attack, a film that normalizes and celebrates queer family structures with such warmth is a powerful statement. It’s radical in its simplicity: showing queer couples and families as ordinary, relatable, and deserving of love and happiness.

    The representation of actors cast in the film has also garnered widespread acclaim. With a stellar ensemble featuring Bowen Yang, Lily Gladstone, Kelly Marie Tran, Han Gi-chan, Joan Chen, and Youn Yuh-jung, the film showcases a rich tapestry of talent and backgrounds. Many of these actors, including Kelly Marie Tran who publicly came out as queer during the film’s production, are openly LGBTQ+ and/or of Asian American descent, adding an authentic layer to the storytelling. Lily Gladstone, of Piegan Blackfeet and Nez Perce background, also chose to “indigenize” her character, Lee, further enriching the film’s multicultural fabric. This intentional casting is a major stride in ensuring adequate and layered representation in mainstream cinema. It’s not just about diversity for diversity’s sake; it’s about giving diverse voices and experiences the platform they deserve.

    Finally, the film’s homage to the previous version of the movie is incredibly relevant to the current progress in same-sex marriage. Where the original film grappled with the hidden nature of queer relationships and the fight for acceptance, the 2025 version acknowledges the legal strides made in the U.S. regarding same-sex marriage. This allows the narrative to shift from merely coming out or survival to the more nuanced challenges of building chosen families and navigating commitment within modern queer relationships. The climactic scene at City Hall, where marriage licenses are now legally available to both gay couples, serves as a powerful historical update, highlighting how far society has come while still acknowledging the ongoing complexities of familial and cultural expectations.

    While some critics might argue the film sometimes plays it a little too safe in its comedic edge, or struggles to balance its humor with its more serious themes, the overall sentiment is that The Wedding Banquet (2025) is a worthy and deeply meaningful successor. It’s a film that resonates with genuine emotion, propelled by strong performances and a timely message. It reminds us that while the legal landscape may have changed, the fundamental human desire for belonging, family, and acceptance remains constant, and that love, in all its diverse forms, truly conquers all.