No i znowu wychodzi na to, ze #Netflix ostatnio prawie nic nie potrafi zrobic porzadnie... Jesli dziennikarze i naukowcy musza "prostowac" to, co sie dzieje w serialu, a do tego powstaja takie artykuly jak ten to wiedz, ze cos poszlo mocno nie tak... 🤦♂️
Po co wprowadzac takie zmiany? W imie czego? Naprawde nie rozumiem
https://marcinkaminski.pl/olowiane-dzieci/ 🚨 "Ołowiane dzieci" na Netflixie. Serial, który boli jak śląski pył w płucach 🚨
Obejrzałem "Ołowiane dzieci" i nie mogę przejść obok tego obojętnie. To historia o lekarce, która w latach 70. odkrywa ołowicę u dzieci z Szopienic. Huta truje, państwo tuszuje, matki walczą. Brzmi znajomo?
TL;DR: Śląsk lat 70. Smog, czarna maź na wszystkim. Walka z PZPR, dla którego czarny przemysł był dumą ponad zdrowie. #film#recenzja#netflix#kino#serial
"Brandon Sanderson nie tylko doczeka się adaptacji swoich najgłośniejszych utworów, ale w bezprecedensowy sposób zachowa prawo do akceptacji najważniejszych decyzji kreatywnych. Zaplanowane filmy i seriale będzie ponadto współtworzył jako scenarzysta i producent."
Po obejrzeniu ostatniego odcinka drugiego sezonu serialu Fallout (włącznie ze sceną po napisach) stwierdzam, że udało się im. Po pierwszych odcinkach miałem poważne obawy, które dosyć szybko się rozwiały, a na samym końcu czuję wręcz żal, że to już koniec (mam nadzieję, że tylko sezonu, i że zapowiedziany trzeci dojdzie do skutku).
Obejrzałem w końcu do końca czeski serial „Tajemnice Pragi” na Amazonie. Bardzo polecam, w stosunku do polskiego „Breslau” to jest szczyt elegancji, jakość i bardzo, bardzo eleganckie sprawy.
Zero wulgaryzmów, chamstwa i przemocy. #film#serial#czechy
#serial#film#netflix
"Zasada jest prosta: fabuła musi być zrozumiała nawet dla kogoś, kto zerka na ekran telewizora raz na trzy minuty."
"Problem tzw. second screen to sytuacja, w której konsumpcja treści wideo (oglądanie TV, streaming) odbywa się przy jednoczesnym korzystaniu z urządzenia mobilnego. Dla przedstawicieli Generacji Z i Millenialsów jest to już niemal naturalny stan skupienia, a raczej jego braku. Nasz mózg, wbrew popularnym mitom, nie jest bowiem wielozadaniowy. Jesteśmy w stanie szybko przełączać uwagę, ale nie potrafimy równie efektywnie przetwarzać dwóch narracji jednocześnie."
Ostatnio rzucil mi sie w oczy plakat serialu Netflixa "Olowiane dzieci" - historia doktor Jolanty Wadowskiej-Król, ktora w latach 70 XX wieku (czyli calkiem niedawno) zaczela badac zwiazek miedzy chorobami dzieci w katowickiej dzielnicy Szopienice a znajdujaca sie tam huta olowiu (nota bene, teren po hucie do dzisiaj jest uznawany za mocno skazony).
O ile serial na pewno obejrze (premiera 11 lutego), o tyle pewna rzecz mi "chrupie" - na plakacie widac bylo budynek, ktory wydawal mi sie mocno znajomy... sprawdzilem dokladniej i okazalo sie, ze na potrzeby serialu, za nieistniejaca juz hute robi... zabytkowa elektrocieplownia w Zabrzu 😅 A gryzie mi sie to, bo zabudowa huty byla stosunkowo niska, a elektrocieplownia to kolos ;)
Ponizej kilka kadrow z serialu i sama elektrownia.
Rozdzielenie przebiło wiedźmina. Jak pierwszy sezon sztos, to drugi szoruje dno na całej linii. Cliffchanger całosezonowy, tylko prosto w dół w przepaść. #seriale#serial
Obejrzałem trzeci odcinek serialu Fallout na Prime i niestety potwierdzają się moje obawy. Nie mam pojęcia jak to możliwe, że twórcy upychając kolanem wątki potrafili zrobić odcinki, które momentami graniczą wręcz z nudą.
Nie jest tragicznie, nie jest nawet źle, ale zapowiada się kolejny serial, którego potencjał będzie zmarnowany. Autentycznie przykro mi.
Karolina Wydra jako Zosia (Piratka) w "Pluribus" wymiata - jestem fanem :)
Rhea Seehorn - to ta blondynka (musiałem sprawdzić jak się nazywa) - to jedna z moich ulubionych aktorek od czasu "Better Call Saul". Ale to Pani Karolina rządzi. Ma przepiękny uśmiech. Mogła by zagrać Matkę Boską. #serial#appletv
Zacząłem oglądać "Jedyna" na #appletv. Ponoć dobre. Oczywiście mam dluga listę filmów do obejrzenia ale ciekawi mnie ten #serial. Na chwilę zawiesiłem oko na paru produkcjach s-f na #netflix. Ale mi szkoda czasu na testowanie produkcji zwłaszcza z tej platformy. Korzystam więc z #filmweb. Jeden poniżej 5 a drugi 6/10. Mógłby się okazać dla mnie filmem roku no ale czas na kinematografie mam ograniczony więc... Zawsze też wolę książkę niż jej ekranizację.
A jak mi serial nie podejdzie to fakt stracę czas ale w przypadku #appletv ryzyko jest mniejsze niż na #netflix. Ale tak - muszę dodatkowo znaleźć czas na pewien świeży film oraz na pewno na jakiś kolejny klasyk sprzed dekad (to zawsze się najlepiej sprawdza).
Note: For those who have been following The Moon’s Hindmost Wound, this story takes place between chapters 11 and 12, before the debriefing.
When Mao got out of the carriage, she was exhausted. The events of the last two days had been draining. First, there was the Mushroom Princess, and then the attempted assassination of the Moon Prince. Everything turned out fine in the end, but Mao would rather live a peaceful life away from royalty and people with wind in their heads.
Speaking of people who were touched, she sighed. The Mad Frank was standing in front of a neighboring brothel, shouting about a guiding star, gifts, and three kings.
At least he wasn’t raving about the end of times. Some of the younger girls got worked up over that. They hadn’t learned yet that someone was always predicting the end of the world. Sometimes, their followers gathered to celebrate when the event was to occur. She had heard of one group that drank poisoned fruit juice when the world failed to end. They were either the Jonesites or the Seven Stars Approach.
Never mind. She was going to get some rest and enjoy her spoils.
“He’s at it again,” said Ukyou, Verdigris House’s bouncer, greeting her.
“Very,” she replied.
“You look tired. I’ll try to steer Madam away from you if she comes looking.”
She nodded in thanks, thinking, “A fool’s errand. Grams is unstoppable, especially if someone tries to deter her.”
She made her way to the shack she called home when she wasn’t at the palace. Luomen was out, which she was glad about. It meant she could do as she pleased.
Before going to sleep, she wanted to look over her treasures. First was the small pot of poison she had received from the assassin. Then came the mushrooms and herbs she had gathered. Of those, the best were the windhead mushrooms and bugbane berries. She carefully put the lemony deathcaps aside.
On second thought, though, she hid them. No point in risking someone eating them or a lecture from Luomen. She wouldn’t sample them, no matter how tempting. And finally, the three roasted #quail she had snagged coming back.
Mao opened her eyes. She felt sick, and the sight of the madam’s face didn’t help. The room spun as she sat up. She kept the thought “Grams leave me alone” to herself. Pleading with the old madam, Yarite Babaa, was worse than wasted breath.
“Hurry, there is someone to see you.” The madam jabbed Maomao.
“Jinshi?” Mao asked and nearly vomited. “I’m too sick for this,” she wailed silently.
Her stomach settled a bit, and her thoughts cleared slightly. “No, it wouldn’t be Jinshi,” she thought. “Maybe one of his messengers. What if he’d relapsed and died? That would mean an excruciatingly slow execution. Better poison, where did I put the Lemony Deathcaps.” Her thoughts whirled. If so, she shouldn’t expect any help from Grams.
“The Moon Prince?” The madam’s sneer was almost a relief after Mao’s thoughts. “You had your chance, girl, and wasted it. No, you’ll have to take what comes to you like the rest.”
It took a full three seconds for Mao to understand what the madam meant. Once she understood, her thoughts raced. “Haven’t I brought you enough wealthy clients?” If the sly old madam was killing the golden goose, someone must have offered a huge fee.
“Pairin, come help the princess get ready.” With those words, the madam left, replaced by the Pairin.
The first princess of Verdigris House looked at Mao with almond eyes, clouded with concern. Her long purple hair was disheveled, as if she too had been aroused from her sleep.
“You look sick, little one. I brought you some herbs. You left them with me when I was ill,” Pairin said, offering an earthen mug.
Mao gratefully drank what she was given. The warmth of ginger tea soothed her throat, and the slightly bitter tang of tangerine peel cut through the soapy taste of zǐsū.
“A good mixture,” she thought, as the urge to vomit ebbed, replaced by a gentle warmth spreading through her #chest.
She put down the mug and nodded thanks to Pairin.
“I don’t want to do this.” The grumble escaped her. She knew it was pointless, but she couldn’t help it, and Pairin wouldn’t hold it against her.
“Cheer up, little one,” Pairin said. “It’s not so bad. Besides paying Madam, your guest brought you expensive gifts: A #chest with as much gold as I receive for three nights.”
Maomao went still. Pairin did not exaggerate about such things. What good was gold if she were robbed of her freedom? If all she wanted was wealth, then she could have had Jinshi long ago.
[Continued in Gold I Bring to Crown You Anew – Part II]
[Continued from “Gold I Bring to Crown You Anew: Part I”]
"Your visitor brought you not only gold but a dress too. It's outlandish, but it's made of the finest material," Pairin said, as she laid out a blue dress.
Mao’s eyes widened. The dress was made of soft blue silk layered over cream-toned linen and cotton; every ruffle was cut and stitched with almost obsessive care. Red satin ribbons and a #vivid blue sapphire finished off the opulent dress. It was an absurdly costly foreign gown—clearly the work of someone with far more money than sense.
It tugged at her memory, although she couldn’t say why. No one from Li would ever dream of wearing something so impractical.
Had an eastern prince, with no #regard for common sense, decided to court her?
With Pairin's help, Mao was slowly encased in a monument of silk, linen, and layers of petticoats. Finished, Pairin stepped back and admired her achievement. “Just think what we could sell this for.”
The lack of a compliment would have insulted any other woman. Instead, Mao thought the same thing, picturing the mounds of herbs and medicine she could buy. She hoped she would have the chance to do so instead of being packed off to someone’s harem or taken to a barbarous land to the east.
“Hmm,” Mao wondered. “Or did she mean me?” It didn’t really matter; they were both practical women. Marriage for the inhabitants of Verdigris House was about money first, with love being an afterthought.
“Would you like something to help with your first time? New girls often do.” Pairin produced a small packet. “Just the first time. Any more is bad for you.”
“Poppy paste,” Mao thought. She took it and secreted it away. “But not for this. I’ll save it for when nothing else works,” picturing a maimed soldier. “Or for someone too important to feel pain.”
A smile touched Pairin’s lips as she watched Mao both accept her gift and refuse to use it. “Come, we mustn’t keep the client waiting any longer.”
[Continued in the next post “Gold I Bring to Crown You Anew: Part IIB”]
[Continued from previous post “Gold I Bring to Crown You Anew: Part IIA”]
The two walked to the parlor in the main house, with Mao being careful not to trip on her new, awkward gown. Managing it was a #continuous nightmare. If people had to wear these things every day, they would be useless for anything but decoration. Just something for men to look at. The thought displeased her.
The first thing she noticed upon entering the building was the scent of sandalwood and agarwood with a touch of frankincense. “An expensive waste of precious resins,” she thought. But that was to be expected, given how important this guest seemed to be.
Upon entering the parlor, her eyes were drawn to a man dressed in a lavishly embroidered gown. His clothes were rich with gold and silver thread; no expense had been spared. A gold crown adorned his head.
He rose and called to her, “Niang Niang, at last I can reveal my true identity.”
Mao stopped. “No, no, it couldn’t be!” The thought whirled in her head.
“Tianyu,” she said in complete disbelief. The dissection-mad surgeon stood before her in regal robes, arms outstretched with a besotted look on his face. A less august person was hard to imagine.
[Continued tomorrow in “Frankincense to Offer Have I: Part I”]
Seconds ticked by as Mao stared at Tianyu. Just before the incident with the Shaoh assassin, she had seen Tianyu fleeing Dr. Liu’s wrath. But now, Tainyu stood decked out like an Eastern noble.
Then relief flooded her. It was just Tianyu. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but if the imperial court hears about it, they’ll have your head.”
She turned to the madam. “You'd best see him out or you’ll #draw imperial ire. He is merely a surgeon in the royal court. I have no idea where he found these riches, but they are undoubtedly not his.”
The madam looked between them, concern etched in her wrinkles. A misjudgment could easily mean death.
“I did it for you,” Tianya's voice #wobbled, falling to his knees, trembling hands outstretched toward Mao.
She clicked her tongue in irritation, but said nothing.
“Out with him,” the madam said, turning to their bouncer. “And beat him soundly so no one thinks we're in league with him. Pairin, help Mao take the dress off. If the rightful owner shows up, they’ll want it. I’ll hold on to the gifts until we know for sure.”
Mao clicked her tongue again. That was money she would never see.
[Continued tomorrow in “Frankincense to Offer Have I: Part II”]
[Continued from “Frankincense to Offer Have I: Part I”]
Mao was #falling into darkness. The ground neared, sprinkled with red warty wind-head mushrooms. “If you hit bottom, you die,” she thought and woke with a start.
“Ugh,” she was clammy with sweat and her stomach twisted. “Bile,” she labeled the taste in her mouth.
Like déjà vu; she saw Gram's face in the fog surrounding her bed. “Wake up, lazybones,” the wraith said.
“Tsk,” Gram clicked her tongue. “Sleeping in that dress. If you’ve spoiled it, you’ll deal with Lady Ah-Duo.”
That made no sense to Mao. “Had Tianya stolen it from Lady Ah-due? Why would she have such a monstrosity?” Her thoughts tumbled chaotically.
Mao sat up to the sounds of crickets and cicadas. When she #turned her head to look for them, the world whirled by like a kaleidoscope with the madam’s face distorted and looking like an evil cicada at the center.
[Continued Tuesday in “Frankincense to Offer Have I: Part III”]
[Continued from “Frankincense to Offer Have I: Part II”]
The world settled, and the madam’s face was as it should be, wrinkled and sardonic.
“A trick of light,” Mao thought. “And there are no crickets, only the dress crinkling.”
“He brought you this,” the madam said, tossing an elaborate Frankish crown of silver and rubies into Mao’s #lap.
Then she disappeared into the fog, replaced by Pairin.
Pairin smiled uneasily. “Come on, you can’t look bad in front of your guest. Drink this.”
Mao was grateful for the ginger tea, but the sense of déjà vu returned. Hadn’t she already done this?
“Feel better?” Pairin took the cup from her and then smoothed her hair, a half-mocking smile on her face. “Then let’s get ready; we must look to your autumn. The jasmine flower loses its fragrance in summer.”
“Who would sniff wormwood and expect jasmine?” Mao’s voice was sharp.
“The night-blooming jasmine longs to entwine you. He arrived with his entourage. He’s livid about your last caller.”
“Jinshi, the Moon Prince,” the name instantly sprang to Mao’s mind. “And he should be livid!”
"I wish he’d warned me so I could have prepared. Doesn't he understand how lotuses bloom?"
“Wait!” A thought occurred to her. “What is he doing out of bed?” Just yesterday, he was recovering from a near brush with death. There was no way he should be up and around—let alone feeling amorous.
"I don't know, but we’d better hurry." Pairin shrugged and stepped back to assess the situation. The sight was less than pleasing, and she grimaced.
[Continued Thursday in “Frankincense to Offer Have I: Part IV”]
[Continued from “Frankincense to Offer Have I: Part III”]
“I should slap you,” Pairin scowled. “Look at that dress! The cat #shed, and you slept in it. Even you should have more sense!”
Mao remained silent and let Pairin scold her. Pairin didn't often slap Mao, but there had been times when she'd deserved it as a child. This was like one of those times. It wasn't like Mao to potentially spoil a valuable item that she could trade for rare medicinal herbs. No matter how tired or sick she was.
Pairin fell silent soon and touched Mao’s face. “I’ll help you get ready, child.”
When Pairin finished straightening the dress, she began on Mao’s makeup, carefully hiding the dark circles under her eyes. Then finally, she moved on to styling Mao’s hair.
All the while, #distant sounds echoed from outside the room. Several times, Mao thought she heard someone calling out things like: “Baneberries—they’re poisonous; don’t eat them,” “These will have the most wonderful flavor of mild lemon or vanilla,” and other nonsense. She even imagined replying: “If you must destroy yourself, continue consuming wind-heads” and “When they reduce your brain to congee,” along with other caustic comments. The words were familiar, but from where?
Her brain refused to settle on a rational answer; instead, it buzzed with energy. It ran in circuits through her body, rising from her toes and blooming in her head like a lotus. She wanted to dash out of the building and escape to anywhere: away from the voices, the suitors, and the illness that threatened to overwhelm her.
Each time, Mao took slow, deep breaths and reminded herself: “I'm ready for this,”“It won’t be so bad being his concubine,” and “He’ll give me lots of ingredients.”
This last thought reminded her of something important, and she asked, “Besides the crown, did he give me anything else?”
“I think he wanted to surprise you with two handfuls of frankincense.”
The thought of two handfuls of the rare resin sent her pulse racing—no, being the prince’s concubine wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe she could even make him rest when he was ill if she had that position.
[Continued tomorrow in “Frankincense to Offer Have I: Part V”]