On this day, after the one known so well as Christmas, The Beatles beamed a sloppy, surreal cult standout into holiday televisions, confounding many and captivating few.
Nearly two decades (and 40 million viewers) after signal boosts from early adopters like yours truly, Adult Swim reboots Harvey Birdman’s postmodern satire for an intersectional epoch.
Avatar: The Last Airbender and Legend of Korra finally arrive at a compromise, from opposite coordinates.
We have been thankfully kept sane during this apocalyptic epoch by an animated comedy anchored in species solidarity and spirited rewilding. But no longer.
The most powerful woman on television is back on television, where she belongs. We need her, more than ever.
Fifty years ago, The Beatles tragically left us, after changing the world for almost a decade. And what they left us with, like much of what they made, sequenced the genes for the recombined culture to come.
Great news, for an internetworked world locked down, looking for hope. Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts is returning for a second season.
Astounding post-apocalyptic animation with both humor and heart is hard to come by these days, as our burning world exponentially slides deeper into climate crisis. Thank our Mother Earth that Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts is here to soothe that burn.
What I wanted this year was one of the greatest animated series ever, created by one of the greatest animators ever, to blessedly return for a second chance at changing programming as usual.
Once upon a time, The Legend Of Korra’s feminist, elemental superhero was one of the most powerful on television. Male, or female, or other, and/or another.
Miyazaki is a name, and a legend, not to be taken lightly. This historical truth alone is worth a viewing of Goro Miyazaki’s Ronja, The Robber’s Daughter, a rewarding animated adaptation of Astrid Lindgren’s fantastic coming-of-age cli-fi.
One of our most persistent fictions of climate change is that the food industry, whose waste and emissions must be brought under immediate control if we are to survive the Anthropocene, can live without immigrants, whose existence puts the lie to nations and nationalism.
For decades, cooler-headed Canada has helped lead the way in animation innovation and mindful programming. Its rising studio Guru is carrying those goals forward in the fantastic new Netflix series, True and the Rainbow Kingdom.
The fact that Amazon chose to invest a healthy budget in Titmouse and Niko, in search of staying power and cultural relevance, should be a warning shot to the animation business as usual. After all, as Titmouse told me, we’re in a cartoon gold rush.
From director Tomm Moore’s Oscar-nominated masterpieces The Secret of Kells and Song of the Sea, to director Nora Twomey’s The Breadwinner and beyond into the great unknown, the indie studio that was once international animation’s best-kept secret is a secret no longer.
Earth seeds itself. Then we get involved. Then you get what we have, right now: An extinction. From the makers of Queen of the Sun: What are the Bees Telling Us?, another exploration of an apocalypse we manufactured with our own hearts and minds.
A wordless wonder in the tradition of Chaplin, with an eye to rural labor and love, Aardman’s stop-motion masterpiece is for everyone, everywhere.
Last year, I once again interviewed Samurai Jack creator and animation auteur, Genndy Tartakovsky, who told me the samurai’s arrival was imminent. Now here he is, in all of his glory and wonder, when we need him most.
Avatar: The Last Airbender and The Legend of Korra are two of the most ambitious and moving animated series of this still-new millennium. Indeed, pound for pound, they can stand alongside most non-animated series and still hold their own.
It doesn’t take long (at all) for the stubborn and refreshingly frank Tartakovsky to hold forth on his frustrations with the way Hotel Transylvania 2 and Popeye were handled.
Certainly, that seems to be our deep-seated fear, that this kind of violence will become part of the fabric of our lives.
Star Trek’s longest-running television series, which alternately bored and blessed us all with a sci-fi optimism now long since buried, blows out 25 candles
One man’s crap made-for-TV movie becomes another fan’s Pythonesque art trip, and the popular tastes of the ensuing decades makes up the difference. Who’s your Walrus now?
A psychokinetic steampunk upgrade with a fearless female hero leading the charge.
Happy Halloween! Looking for a nicely timed freakout?