Psychology

Dogs In Space Season 2: A Risk That Paid Off

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

Previously, I reviewed Dogs In Space (the Netflix show, again, not the movie on punk).  I was surprised at how good this Sci-Fi parody was, enjoying the family-friendly adventures of uplifted dogs trying to “fetch” a new home for humanity.  Though it had erratic moments, it was well-done, built a continuity, and had some gut-punch moments exploring its premise.  When I saw that Season Two had dropped, I watched it immediately, finishing it in two evenings.

The choices made surprised me -pleasantly so – and are not only good but show the importance of choices writers made.  Sometimes there’s funny, but then there’s funny with meaning.

Season One was a mix of shenanigans parodying Sci-Fi tropes, and continuing plot, ending in the cast of genetically-engineered dogs going through some personal changes.  How would the show deal with so many repercussions in Season Two?  For the writers, the answer was lean the into repercussions full force.

Season Two was almost all about the results of characters’ actions in Season One (and Season Two) having effects, often serious ones.  There was no happy reversal of fortune to establish a norm, no reset button to deliver more of the same.  In fact, parts of Season Two and its entire climax made no sense without having seen Season One.

It was still funny, at times very funny, but it was humor in the context of a developed setting where actions have consequences.  Much of the humor, indeed the theme of the season, was repercussions.

Season Two also explored backstory of the characters and how their personality quirks mean real trouble.  Some of this built the world, some seemed to tie up “spent” plots, and others explored unsavory repercussions of character traits that would otherwise be one-note jokes.  It was as if the authors were saying “that thing you laughed at in Season One is funny in a darker way if you think about it . . .”

Pleasingly, this wasn’t just characters being in a setting pinball machine.  Characters are explored, make choices, and deal with results.  Side characters weren’t forgotten and get to reappear for critical moments – and they just came in and dig their thing with no big “hey, it’s them” fanfare.  The elements of the show’s world mattered.

(I was thrilled one of my favorite side-side characters, the friendly but butt-kicking Saint Bernard Duchess got a moment.  If you want to see a humanoid dog go sword-swinging anime heroine, this is your show.)

I found this continuity-focus a very bold writing choice, and it tells us something about parody.  A good parody (which Dogs in Space is) can keep leaning on its jokes and get a lot of mileage out of that.  But meaningfully embracing the continuity you’ve built and being funny is the real challenge, and Dogs in Space pulled it off, making the show meaningful (while still keeping some dog jokes, of course).

There was still some uneven plotting as Season One had, but this time it seemed to be due to the challenge of having a continuing plot.  A few early episodes just aren’t that interesting, and the final story arc ties heavily into Season One, but it didn’t get foreshadowed well.  I’m sure there were a lot of plates to spin, while keeping the show both funny, serious, and family-friendly.

The emotional bite was also different.  Season One’s gut punches really came more and more near the end of the season, but Season Two spreads them out.  Though the end was quite dramatic, I was never quite sure when an emotional swing would come at me – which made the experience more enjoyable!  All the winding character arcs, backstory, and more were surprising, making the serious elements matter even more.

Dogs in Space Season Two showed courageous writers embracing continuity heavily, understanding it was a strength of what they’d created.  It’s a reminder that even when you’re doing funny, doing funny in a good setting with repercussions gives the audience a deeper experience.  Humor that matters is humor that hits harder and makes the darker jokes more thought-provoking.

Plus, kudos to Season Two’s cliffhanger ending.  It not only expands the universe, but promises even more complicators for our heroic canines . . .

Steven Savage

A Certain Intimate Dissatisfaction

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

I’ve felt a disinterest in media lately.  It was only after some analysis that I understood how much media lacks intimacy.

Something has been itching at the back of my mind lately, a dissatisfaction with most media.  It wasn’t  hatredjust a sense of being unfulfilling.  I’m not saying the media were even bad, but I felt something was missing.  Instead of trying to scratch this itch, I leaned into it to learn it’s nature.

This sense of unease was tied to a recent interest in old alternative music radio shows, strange zines, audio ephemera, sound collages, etc.    Those things were unique, with passion for once-obscure (and still obscure) bands, remixing techniques, personal interests, and so on.  Each one was a little ball of itself.

Compared to that, many movies, television, etc. seemed so sterile.  Oh, it might be good, but the market is filled with works that look alike, everything is overhyped, and it’s impersonal.  There was a lack of connection there.  I could enjoy some crappy B-movies more than the big thing I had to see, with a few exceptions (Everything Everywhere All At Once, for instance).

This ‘itch” didn’t apply to video games, which was another clue.  I love Early Access games, being able to give feedback, and be involved in the process.  I also loved digging up strange, obscure, and unique titles to play, those visions giving form.

I understood then – I craved the intimacy of media involvement.  Of being involved in the creation and sharing it (like Early Access games, or Zines).  I missed things that were personal experiences with that sense of craftsmanship (Zines, alternate music, strange films).  With this in mind, I’m finding my interests again, often in the strangest places – of which I may write more in time.

I think our modern media, which often produces things that can be good, also creates works that are mass-marketed, polished, and targeted.  Things may be optimized, but optimization isn’t personal.  When you’re just caught within a statistics range, you know.

I suspect this is an unappreciated part of fandoms as well.  Some fandom experiences are intimate, with fanfic, art, cosplay, conventions, etc.  The flawed or over-engineered creation can bring people together, who then transcend the original work.  Fandom can add something to the experience of a media, a something I don’t think is fully appreciated by many.

So now I have a grasp of this itch, this sense of dissatisfaction.  I miss work that is connected, personal, and above all not over-engineered.  I miss media that helps me connect with people and indeed to the “bigger picture.” 

I’m not sure where this will take my tastes, or my own creative works, but it’s going to be an interesting trip.  You’ll be along for the ride and plenty of blog posts – and what’s sure to be a connecting experience.

Steven Savage

A Certain Sustaining Fire

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

As I crawl back to some form of normal creative pacing after the last few weeks, I got annoyed with how I spent some time.  When I found myself too tired to write, I’d do some graphic experiments with photoshop.  Was this a waste of time when I could write?  Why did I do it.

Then it struck me, it wasn’t a waste of time at all.

The creativity for my projects was dampened by being overloaded, but my graphics experiments were expressions of creativity that wasn’t snuffed out.  It wasn’t as demanding, but it was a sign that my creativity was still there and active – it was just playing more than working.

It was a flame that kept itself going, if not as bright as I wanted.  There was the chance it would blaze forth yet again (and it has been, slowly).

I realized that when you’re a creative under stress, any creative output of any kind is probably good.  It keeps the flame of creativity going – and reminds you it’s there.  There’s still part of you being you.

It’s easy to write off things like writing silly stories or making goofy modifications to family photos, but those are creative acts.  They’re just play, and when you’re tired play can both energize you and bring yu back to yourself.

As a creative, give yourself time to mess around – there are days it will be all you can do.  But it keeps enough of you going so you can create what you want to, eventually.

Steven Savage