“Nothing can beat the music of hundreds of voices screaming in unison!” — Kefka Palazzo
(spoilers)
When you think of great villains (especially rpg ones), you usually picture brooding pretty boys with giant swords or ancient, unknowable evils lurking in the shadows. Kefka Palazzo from Final Fantasy VI completely breaks that mold the second he steps onto the screen. He’s a walking, talking clown with a shrill, maniacal laugh, brightly colored clothes, and makeup that makes him look like a demented circus performer. Honestly, that’s exactly what makes him so instantly memorable and charismatic. He doesn’t sit in a dark castle brooding over a tragic past; he’s out in the dirt actively causing chaos just for the sheer fun of it. Right from his first appearance poisoning a kingdom’s water supply, you realize this guy is operating on a completely different wavelength than your standard bad guy, and it’s impossible not to be hooked by his sheer audacity.
Kefka’s charisma also heavily relies on his incredibly distinct presence and dialogue. He doesn’t speak in deep, philosophical riddles or stern, intimidating commands; he speaks in cackling, immature outbursts, frequently dropping his iconic “Uwee hee hee!” laugh. He’s intensely petty, throwing literal tantrums when things don’t go his way, yet he’s terrifyingly lethal when he gets mad. He constantly mocks the heroes and even his own boss, Emperor Gestahl, right to his face. This blend of childish absurdity and genuine menace creates a bizarre tension. You never know if he’s going to tell a bad joke or commit a horrific war crime, and that whiplash keeps you completely engaged every time he’s on screen.
What really makes Kefka so mesmerizing, though, is his total lack of a traditional villainous motive. In Final Fantasy VI, the Emperor wants world domination, which is pretty standard stuff. Kefka, on the other hand, realizes halfway through that ruling the world is actually kind of boring. His philosophy boils down to pure, unadulterated nihilism—he looks at life, sees no inherent meaning, and decides that if everything is pointless, he might as well burn it all to the ground. It’s a surprisingly dark and mature concept for a 90s video game, especially coming from a guy dressed like a jester. He doesn’t want to be a king; he wants to be a god of ruin, and his complete rejection of the usual “I want to rule the world” trope makes him stand out even decades later.
Another huge part of his undeniable charisma comes from the fact that he actually wins. Long before the Joker was reimagined in Nolan’s The Dark Knight, Kefka was the nihilistic jester who wanted to watch the world burn, and burn it he did. Usually, you stop the villain right before they can enact their master plan, but in Final Fantasy VI, Kefka actually succeeds in reshaping the entire planet into the apocalyptic World of Ruin. He knocks the heroes down, scatters them to the wind, and sits on top of his literal tower of garbage as a deity of destruction. Seeing a villain not only achieve their goal but hold onto it for the entire second half of the game makes him feel incredibly dangerous. You aren’t fighting to stop his evil plan; you’re just trying to survive in the miserable aftermath of the world he already broke.
The sheer scale of his ascent to power is another detail that makes him so fascinating to watch unfold. Most villains spend the whole game sitting on a throne waiting for the heroes to come to them, but Kefka is highly active and proactive. When he reaches the Floating Continent and finally gets his hands on the power of the Warring Triad, the shift in his character is palpable. He doesn’t just defeat the Emperor in a grand duel; he casually betrays him and kicks him off the edge of the world. Absorbing the statues’ magic physically mutates Kefka into an angelic, six-winged monstrosity of divine power. It’s a crazy visual progression from a goofy, mocked court mage to a literal, untouchable god who reshapes the planet’s geography with a thought.
You could argue that Kefka has a tragic backstory since it’s revealed that the Empire’s magical Magitek experiments essentially broke his mind and stripped away his humanity. But what’s brilliant about his writing is that the game never uses this as an excuse to make you feel sorry for him. It just explains the mechanics of why he’s so completely detached from reality. He’s a walking cautionary tale of what happens when absolute power is given to someone with absolutely zero moral compass. Because the story never tries to justify his actions with a sob story, he avoids becoming a tired, sympathetic anti-hero. He’s just irreparably broken and completely embraces the madness, which makes him wildly unpredictable and fun to watch.
At the end of the day, Kefka’s legacy boils down to how incredibly entertaining he is from start to finish. His final battle, set to the legendary, chaotic track “Dancing Mad,” is the perfect capstone to his character—a trippy, terrifying, and almost absurd confrontation with a monster who has literally given up on reality itself. Even his final words, questioning why people keep rebuilding when life is just going to end anyway, leave a weirdly haunting impression. Kefka Palazzo remains one of the greatest villains in gaming history not because he’s the strongest or the most deeply complex, but because he is a perfectly distilled, unapologetic force of pure chaos that you simply can’t look away from.
Welcome to Late Night Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Tuesdays, I will be reviewing Pacific Blue, a cop show that aired from 1996 to 2000 on the USA Network! It’s currently streaming everywhere, though I’m watching it on Tubi.
This week, TC goes surfing!
Episode 4.9 “Cutting Edge”
(Dir by Terence H. Winkless, originally aired on October 18th, 1998)
When an up-and-coming surfer named Kenny Slaughter (Reed Ferichs) is pressured by a corrupt surf board salesman named Rip Cutter (Matt Battaglia), TC befriends Kenny. He and Kenny go surfing. They discuss the philosophy of catching a great wave. “Are you sure you’re a cop?” Kenny asks.
Uhmm, Kenny …. are you kidding? TC is the most uptight guy on the beach. Everything about him screams “cop.”
This episode is an example of something that happened quite frequently with Pacific Blue. One of the bike cops would befriend someone and the viewer would be left to wonder how that could have possibly happened. Friendship usually requires a modicum of likability and that’s something that no one on this show seems to have. Whether it’s Chris saying, “Just doing my job,” after nearly running someone down with her bicycle or Cory rolling her eyes every time that she has to deal with anyone younger than her, there are literally no likable bike cops. Even this episode features Cory complaining about the attitude that Kenny gave her when she arrested him while he and Rip were having a fight on the beach. It’s hard not to notice that almost every episode features Cory complaining about someone’s attitude. It’s a bit of a cliche but it’s true. If everyone you meet is a jerk, that means that you’re the jerk.
TC assigns Monica to work undercover in Rip’s surf shop. This means that Monica has to frequently come over to TC’s apartment to give him updates. Because TC can’t tell anyone that Monica is working undercover, Chris gets suspicious about why Monica is always coming over. Chris and Cory being paranoid about Monica has been going on for nine episodes now and I think that, narratively, it might be a good idea to just move on from it. It wasn’t that interesting to begin with and, at this point, Chris and Cory are just coming across as being overage mean girls.
Anyway, this episode actually felt like an abandoned Baywatch storyline. TC’s no surfer.
Welcome to Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Tuesdays, I will be reviewing Saved By The Bell: The New Class, which ran on NBC from 1993 to 2o00. The show is currently on Prime.
This week, Rachel’s boyfriend returns.
Episode 2.8 “Rachel’s Choice”
(Dir by Don Barnhart, originally aired on October 1st, 1994)
Oh, Hell, we’re back at the country club.
Rachel and Brian are now dating but Rachel still hasn’t told her long-distance boyfriend, football star David Conrad (Kevin Bell). In this episode, it’s mentioned that Rachel has been dating David for two years (so why was she going on out on a date with Scott during season one?) and that David is the “local boy made good.” Mr. Belding acts as if David is the only good football player that Bayside ever had, which is definitely A.C. Slater erasure.
(It’s weird how Bayside went from being the most exclusive school in Los Angeles during the first series to apparently just some throw-away slum school in the New Class.)
David told Rachel that he would be spending the summer in Europe but — surprise! — he comes home early for Rachel’s birthday. (David immediately recognizes Screech as someone he went to school with so David is at least 20. Rachel appeared in the first 4 seasons of The New Class and, when she left, it was because she transferred to another school. So, Rachel is around 14 or 15 here and has been dating David for two years, which means that David should probably be in jail.) Rachel has to make a choice between David and Brian. Now, that could make for some serious drama if both Brian and David were portrayed as being two nice guys who both liked Rachel. Instead, David is portrayed as being such a soulless snob that there’s absolutely no doubt who Rachel will eventually pick. Indeed, the whole episode makes Rachel seem shallow and stupid for going out with David in the first place.
Meanwhile, Mr. Belding is concerned that some of the members are joining a different country clubs. Why does Belding care? This is just a summer job for him. Belding assigns Screech to make a video about the club. Shouldn’t Belding have run that past the actual owner of the club?
These country club episodes are stupid. By running them concurrently with the high school episodes, NBC created a situation where one episode would feature Brian and Rachel as a couple and the next episode would feature Brian still trying to work up the courage to ask her out. It’s as if no one at NBC cared. That’s a shame because the late Christian Oliver was a likable actor and Brian and Rachel were a cute couple. (In real life, when this episode aired, 22 year-old Christian Oliver was about 8 years older than Sarah Lancaster but let’s try not to think about that.)
Anyway, the country club sucks. I hope everyone gets a better job next summer.
Some songs just get stuck in your head and I think this is definitely one of them. This is also a song that always used to play in the background at one of my favorite used bookstores. I associate One Headlight with searching through old books and learning about history.
Yesterday was Janet Leigh’s birthday and today is Pat Hitchcock’s birthday so it seems appropriate that today’s scene that I love should feature both of them. From 1960’s Psycho, this scene features Leigh and Hitchcock as office co-workers who meet the very wealthy Mr. Lowry (played by Frank Albertson).
“He was flirting with you. He must have seen my wedding ring,” remains one of the greatest lines ever written.
4 Or More Shots From 4 Or More Films is just what it says it is, 4 shots from 4 of our favorite films. As opposed to the reviews and recaps that we usually post, 4 Shots From 4 Films lets the visuals do the talking!
Today the Shattered Lens wishes a happy birthday to director Robert Eggers! It’s time for….
4 Shots From 4 Robert Eggers Films
The Witch (2015, dir by Robert Eggers, DP: Jarin Blaschke)
The Lighthouse (2019, dir by Robert Eggers, DP: Jarin Blaschke)
The Northman (2022, dir by Robert Eggers, DP: Jarin Blaschke)
Nosferatu (2024, dir by Robert Eggers, DP: Jarin Blaschke)
Whale was a Swedish alternative band, made up for Gordon Cyrus, Henrik Schyffert, and Cia Berg. During the mid-90s, they were big in Europe while, in America, they were best known for this video.
When this video was first released, there was a lot of confusion as to what was meant by Hobo Humpin’ Slobo Babe. Everyone knew what a hobo and a babe were. Everyone understood humpin’. But what did slobo mean? According to the band, they misheard the British term “sloane.” A sloane is a type of fashionable, upper class person. How that ties into hobo humpin’ is open to interpretation.
Mark Pellington won the inaugural MTV Europe Music Video Award for best video for Hobo Humpin’ Slobo Babe. Whale broke up in 1999, though all three members remain active on the Swedish entertainment scene.
Roland Emmerich has a reputation that precedes him, and it’s not exactly a glowing one. When his name pops up as the director of a new blockbuster, it’s easy to let out an audible groan. He’s not quite in the same league as Uwe Boll for sheer cinematic atrocities, but he gives Michael Bay a serious run for his money in the “most frustratingly inconsistent big-budget filmmaker” category. This is a guy who once showed real promise with cult sci-fi action flicks like Universal Soldier and Stargate, then hit his commercial and creative peak with the wildly entertaining Independence Day. But ever since that 1996 high point, Emmerich’s films have followed a disappointing trajectory, each one seemingly more bloated and less satisfying than the last. Godzilla was a mess. The Day After Tomorrow had its moments but collapsed under its own ridiculousness. So when 2012 rolled around in late 2009, expectations were, to put it mildly, low. Yet somehow, against all odds, Emmerich delivered his most purely enjoyable disaster flick since Independence Day—a film so gleefully, unapologetically over-the-top that it transcends its many, many flaws.
2012 takes the idea of apocalyptic cinema and cranks it up to eleven, then snaps the dial off and sets it on fire. The premise is simple: the Mayan calendar wasn’t just a quirky ancient artifact—it was a warning. The world, as we know it, is set to end in the year 2012, thanks to a series of cataclysmic events triggered by solar neutrinos heating up the Earth’s core. The film spends its first act methodically setting up this global doomsday through two very different perspectives. On one side, you’ve got Dr. Adrian Helmsley, played with quiet intensity by Chiwetel Ejiofor, a scientist who discovers the impending disaster and tries to warn world leaders. On the other, there’s Charlie Frost, a conspiracy theorist radio host played by Woody Harrelson with the kind of manic energy that suggests he might actually believe the world is ending—or at least that his next cup of coffee is. These early scenes are a mix of pseudo-science and doomsday preaching, but they serve their purpose: by the time the first real disaster strikes, you’re primed and ready for the chaos.
And oh, what chaos it is. 2012 isn’t just a disaster movie—it’s a full-blown disaster epic, a nearly three-hour spectacle of global annihilation that feels like Emmerich finally decided to stop holding back. This is a film where entire continents are reshaped, where cities crumble into the sea, and where billions of people meet their end in the most visually inventive ways possible. The destruction of Los Angeles is a particular standout, a sequence so relentless and well-executed that it’s hard not to watch with your jaw hanging open. John Cusack plays Jackson Curtis, a limousine driver and failed novelist who finds himself in the middle of the carnage while trying to pick up his kids from their mother’s new boyfriend’s mansion. As the ground literally splits open beneath him, Curtis has to outdrive an earthquake that’s turning the San Andreas Fault into a real-life game of Frogger. Buildings collapse, freeways pancake, and the entire city slides into the Pacific Ocean in a scene that’s as thrilling as it is absurd. It’s the kind of moment that defines 2012: completely ridiculous, yet undeniably impressive in its sheer audacity.
But Los Angeles is just the appetizer. From there, the film takes us on a world tour of destruction. Yellowstone National Park erupts in a supervolcano explosion that turns the American Midwest into a smoldering wasteland. Mega-tsunamis, some as tall as the Himalayas, crash over entire landmasses, swallowing cities whole. Air Force One gets caught in a pyroclastic flow. And through it all, Cusack’s everyman hero is trying to get his family to safety, which in this case means boarding one of the massive arks built by the world’s governments to preserve humanity—or at least the rich and well-connected. The arks, a last-ditch effort to save a sliver of civilization, become the film’s most fascinating and frustrating element. On one hand, they’re a clever narrative device, forcing the characters into a high-stakes race against time. On the other, they highlight the film’s most glaring ethical and logical inconsistencies. Why are only certain people allowed on board? How did they build these things in secret? And why does Danny Glover’s President Wilson, a man who seems perpetually one step behind the crisis, get to be the moral compass of the story? The answers, of course, are “because the plot demands it” and “who cares, look at that explosion!”
The cast of 2012 is what you’d charitably call an ensemble, though “B-list all-stars” might be more accurate. Cusack is fine as the reluctant hero, though he’s never fully convincing as a man who can outsmart the apocalypse. Amanda Peet plays his ex-wife, Kate, a woman so perpetually exasperated by her former husband that you wonder why she ever married him in the first place. Their kids, played by Liam James and Morgan Lily, are mostly there to scream and look terrified, which they do adequately. Chiwetel Ejiofor brings a much-needed dose of gravitas as the scientist trying to sound the alarm, though even he can’t sell some of the film’s more outlandish scientific explanations. Danny Glover’s President Wilson is… well, he’s Danny Glover as the President, which is about as convincing as it sounds. And then there’s Woody Harrelson, who steals every scene he’s in as Charlie Frost, the conspiracy theorist who may or may not be onto something. Harrelson’s performance is so delightfully unhinged that it almost makes you wish the film had focused more on his character and less on Cusack’s family drama.
And that’s the thing about 2012: the human elements are almost uniformly the weakest part of the film. The dialogue is often clunky, the character arcs are predictable, and the emotional beats frequently fall flat. But none of that matters because Emmerich and his team have crafted a film that’s so visually stunning, so relentlessly paced, and so committed to its own absurdity that you can’t help but get swept up in it. This is a movie that understands exactly what it is: a guilty pleasure, a spectacle, a chance to watch the world end in the most extravagant ways possible. It doesn’t ask you to think too hard or invest too deeply in its characters. It just asks you to sit back, grab some popcorn, and enjoy the ride. And on that front, 2012 delivers in spades.
What’s most impressive about 2012 is the sheer scale of its ambition. This isn’t a film content with destroying a single city or even a single country. Emmerich wants to tear down the entire planet, and he does so with a level of detail and creativity that’s hard not to admire. The visual effects are top-notch, and the film’s destruction sequences are some of the most memorable in the disaster genre. The mega-tsunami that crashes over the Himalayas is a particular highlight, a moment so awe-inspiring in its scope that it’s easy to forget you’re watching a movie that’s otherwise filled with groan-worthy dialogue and one-dimensional characters. And then there’s the final act, where the arks become the stage for a last-ditch effort to save humanity. The sequences aboard the ark are a mix of tension and spectacle, as the characters navigate the chaos of a world literally coming apart at the seams.
Of course, 2012 isn’t without its share of head-scratching moments. The science is, to put it kindly, questionable. The idea that solar neutrinos could heat up the Earth’s core to the point of global destruction is pure fantasy, and the film’s explanation for how the arks were built and funded is so flimsy it might as well not exist. The pacing, too, can be uneven. The first act drags a bit as it sets up the various plot threads, and the final act feels rushed, as if Emmerich realized he had to wrap things up before the runtime hit the three-hour mark. And then there’s the film’s tone, which can be wildly inconsistent. One moment, you’re watching billions of people die in horrific ways; the next, you’re supposed to laugh at a joke from one of the side characters. It’s a balancing act that doesn’t always work, but somehow, it doesn’t derail the film either.
At its core, 2012 is a throwback to the disaster movies of the 1970s, films like The Poseidon Adventure and The Towering Inferno that were more concerned with spectacle than substance. Those films were often criticized for their thin plots and wooden acting, but they endured because they delivered on the one thing that mattered: thrilling, large-scale destruction. 2012 is cut from the same cloth. It’s a film that knows its audience and knows exactly what they want. And what they want, it turns out, is to watch the world end in the most spectacular ways possible. In that sense, 2012 is a resounding success. It’s a bad movie, sure, but it’s a bad movie that’s an absolute blast to watch. It’s the kind of film you put on when you want to turn off your brain, crank up the volume, and lose yourself in the sheer, unadulterated joy of watching everything burn.
So, is 2012 a good film? By most traditional measures, no. The plot is silly, the characters are thin, and the dialogue is often laughable. But as a piece of pure, unfiltered disaster porn, it’s one of the best. Emmerich has always been a director who prioritizes spectacle over subtlety, and 2012 is the purest expression of that philosophy. It’s a film that doesn’t just meet expectations—it exceeds them, if only by virtue of its sheer, unrelenting ambition. And in a world where so many blockbusters feel like they’re playing it safe, there’s something refreshing about a movie that’s willing to go this big, this bold, and this unapologetically over-the-top. 2012 may not be high art, but it’s a hell of a lot of fun. And sometimes, that’s more than enough.
Welcome to Late Night Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Mondays, I will be reviewing CHiPs, which ran on NBC from 1977 to 1983. The entire show is currently streaming on Prime!
This week, the computer goes down and Erik Estrada asks, “What’s a computer?”
Episode 5.25 “Overload”
(Dir by Robert Pine, originally aired on May 2nd, 1982)
Reni Santoni and Michael Anderson, Jr. play two thieves who hijack a truck that is delivering computer chips. When the truck is involved in an accident, an old woman named Nettie (Helen Kleeb) spots Anderson hiding in the trailer. She panics and flees from the scene.
Why do the criminals need the computer chips? Reni Santoni’s cousin (Denis Mandel) is a genius who has built a device that allows him to hack into other computers. As a test, he hacks into the Highway Patrol’s computer and rewrites their code. Suddenly, the computers at HPHQ can no longer be used to look up addresses. Bonnie is shorted on her paycheck. Getraer, meanwhile, gets paid a thousand more than usual. Ponch worries because he entered all the numbers in his little black book into the computer and now, he can’t get them out. Listening to him deliver his lines, one gets the feeling that Erik Estrada didn’t have the slightest idea what Ponch was talking about and, to be honest, I get the feeling that whoever wrote this episode was equally as confused. Myself, I’m wondering about the logic of using a work computer for that. I mean, what if he wants to call someone from his swinging bachelor pad?
Eventually, the Highway Patrol does track down Nettie. Nettie turns out to be one of the most annoying old biddies to ever appear on this show. Strangely, everyone at the station is charmed by her, despite the fact that she fled from the scene of a serious accident that was largely caused by her bad driving. Nettie should be going to prison!
This wasn’t much of an episode. Larry Wilcox looked miserable and annoyed from beginning to end and it’s easy to understand why he decided not come back after the fifth season. There are times when it really does appear as if he’s considering pushing Estrada off of his motorcycle. Sorry, Larry, but we all know what show this is!
Only two more episodes to go before we complete this season!
