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The Mandalorian Season 1 has been a huge critical success for Disney . One of the key factors for the series's success was the lack of prior Star Wars knowledge that was necessary for viewers of the series. The series was largely accessible to new audiences who may have never watched Star Wars film before, though it still contained many references and connections for long time Star Wars fans. For season 2 (which debuts October 30th), there have been many rumor circulating that the series will include characters from other Star Wars books and animated series. Rumored among the cast include characters from The Clone Wars and Rebels like Mandalorian warrior Bo-Katan and former Jed Ahsoka Tano. While these characters are popular among Star Wars fans, their appearances may required more complicated explanations/exposition for those who have only watched The Mandalorian. Should The Mandalorian remain largely separated from other Star Wars stories, or it should it integrate characters from the wide Star Wars universe, at the risk of losing some of what made the first season so refreshing and distinct?

In almost every 'which is better, book or movie?' debate, the book wins. For a plethora of reasons, from intense detail to unique character-building, books are almost always dubbed better than their adaptations.

But what about the film adaptations that are better than their original book?
Offer several examples of adaptations better than their original. Discuss what they do so correctly that allows them to win this battle.

Do they take away the difficult language of a book to make an important story more accessible? Are the characters better rounded and more realistic? Does the film cut out unnecessary details that are included in the book? Is there a changed detail that improves a film — different setting, different main character, different conclusion, perhaps. Is it simply a case of visuals portraying the content better than words can (say, an intense action sequence for example).

There could be ANY number of reasons and ANY number of films to be discussed.
This topic does run the risk of coming across as too subjective though, so ensure that sound analysis is offered to justify your claims.

In past decades, situation comedies and dramas were often known for their "very special episodes." These stories took a break from more lighthearted fare to discuss serious topics or issues, often those facing young audiences of the day. Special episodes could often be categorized thus:
-Featuring "special" characters (often disabled), who rarely if ever appeared again but existed to educate audiences and teach the main characters lessons about compassion and tolerance
-Analyzing the dangers of teen life (peer pressure, drugs, drunk driving, child/teen molestation)
-Focusing on particular current events (the explosion of the Challenger space shuttle, the AIDS epidemic, 9/11, etc.)
-Teaching young audiences when and how to give or seek help in serious situations (eating disorders, abuse, CPR, etc.)

Pick a few "very special episodes" to focus on from sitcoms or sitcom/dramas (Diff'rent Strokes, Punky Brewster, Seventh Heaven, Full House…) How has the "very special episode" evolved? Why are they often mocked, even by those who enjoyed their affiliated shows? Is the "very special episode" still around now, and what does it look like?

My article investigates touchable art and introduces artists who recover in their practices the bodily needs for physical contact. Amongst the restrictions imposed by COVID-19 are ‘no touch’ policies and the closing of art institutions for unlimited periods of time.
But our crave for touch grows with the passing of time, and so does our need for seeing new, beautiful things.
My article suggests different ways in which the public can soothe their desire for physical contact by experiencing art in the virtual space. It engages with the works of British artist Lucy Clout, Berlin-based Americans Claire Tolan and Holly Herndon and American artist Julie Weitz. Most recently, Australian artist Michelle Vine was awarded a residency with Museum of Brisbane for which she produced work that brought together touchable art and participatory art forms.

Besides HIV/AIDS, there has been no wide-reaching pandemic since the 1918 Spanish Influenza and, from a movie point of view at least, it's pretty boring to live through. Despite what zombie movies might suggest, viruses are relatively slow moving and the deadlier a virus is, the less transmissible it tends to be. And the vast majority of people remain uninfected. It doesn't make for great storytelling. However, up until now, the majority of people had no firsthand experience of living through an epidemic / pandemic and so could more easily suspend reality while watching these types of movies. But what happens now? Will the genre move away from the thriller type movie towards to personal suffering, either in lock down or the loss of loved ones?

Buddhism teaches that we can let go of illusion by letting go of “our story,” i.e. letting go of our insistence on seeing reality our way. Many literary classics teach us the same lesson, sometimes through characters metamorphosing by undergoing evolutionary cycles including tragic moments. We see this struggle and more or less successful letting go performed by protagonists such as the Buddha, Oedipus, Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Henry James’ Maisie, Edith Wharton’s “Ethan Frome,” Ishiguro’s characters in The Remains of the Day, Toni Morrison’s Sethe in Beloved, and Murakami’s un-hero in The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle who learns to let go of all his stories by sitting in a dark well for a long time.

The common theme in these fictions as well as in many others is letting go of illusion by letting go of one’s story, all unfolded in fiction. What sort of fiction must one invent to not add to the world of illusions? Does something distinguish these fictions in addition to the theme, something that makes them resist becoming part of our illusions? Or is it impossible not to add to the illusory? Where do commonalities between letting go of one’s story end and differences in consequences thereof open up, according to whatever works of fiction we decide to look at? What do these fictions have to say about what stories we rarely let go of? How does this theme of letting go of story in story speak to the story-telling during the global pandemic in 2020, specifically about the stories we tell of the “before-the-pandemic” world? Are we, like Murakami’s character, in the well, or are we emerging? How can we tell? Tell us.

It seems as though, when comic books (Japanese or Western) get adapted into movies or TV series, they become less over-the-top and stylized. The visuals may be toned down, for instance, and some of the characters may talk, act, or even look more like real people would in their situations. For instance, many of the characters in the "Deadman Wonderland" anime talk and act much more realistically than their manga counterparts did. The Netflix adaptation of "The Umbrella Academy" is also supposed to be more realistic and restrained than the original comics, and makes more of an effort to flesh out the characters' personalities and motivations. Are most comic book adaptations like this, or does it depend on the individual adaptation? If indeed it is a trend, what are some of the factors driving it? For instance, do characters simply have to become more realistic once a real person is charged with bringing them to life?

This is a topic that could apply to either movies or television. Disclaimers range in purpose. Sometimes they exist in order to lessen chances of physical discomfort in the audience (and thus potential lawsuits), as with seizure warnings for flashing lights (i.e. a scene in Incredibles 2) or motion sickness warnings with 3D or IMAX films. Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ was flagged for its graphic depiction of Jesus’s crucifixion. However, disclaimers have extended their reach beyond the physical realm into the psychological.

For instance, the ratings system that differentiates between what is appropriate for certain age groups can sometimes be misleading. Often in preface to cast and crew interviews, there is a text that states “the views and opinions expressed are those of the individual and do not represent those of [insert company name here].” When the Netflix series 13 Reasons Why first premiered, there was controversy it would romanticize and therefore increase the likelihood of suicide in tweens and teens. When Joker was released, there was a fear that burgeoning mass shooters would be emboldened by the film’s protagonist into taking the law into their own hands. Stanley Kubrick’s film adaptation of A Clockwork Orange was banned because of its depictions of hedonistic violence.

Just recently, the classic Gone with the Wind was briefly removed from HBO Max and then reinstated with disclaimers for fear of its depictions of the antebellum South. Disclaimers step in as “gatekeepers” of sorts, where films or T.V. shows must pass a certain purity “litmus test” to gauge not only their potential offensiveness to audiences but their ability to corrupt their audience’s minds. In what ways does this “moral panic” manifest itself in the form of media disclaimers? The threat of exploring or even simply acknowledging so-called “dangerous ideas” is oft-treaded territory, such as with George Orwell’s notions of ”groupthink.” How does the struggle to protect an unsuspecting audience devolve into a form of thought control? In what ways have such disclaimers proved beneficial?

Is it significantly harder for disabled actors to gain roles in films or television shows? How many disabled characters in film/TV are portrayed by disabled actors, and is their portrayal realistic/accurate? What do disabled people in the screen industry think needs to be done to improve disability representation/equality in the screen industry?

What can be considered a new classic? Writers like John Green and Stephan King boast quite a large fan base (and literary output), but will they go down in history? Does fame equate to immortalization in literature? After all, many writers were unbeknownst while they lived, but others (such as Shakespeare) received wide fame amid their careers. Whose work can be considered literary? Are they losing ground in the shadow of these modern, famed "genre writers"?

I've been watching That 70s Show recently and noticed that their small town has a bad reputation, the after-graduation goal is to get out of the dead-end town. 'Being someone' means moving away from home. Then, I got to thinking, there are elements of this thinking in many other shows I have seen, Daria, Gilmore Girls, Community.
Is this prolific enough in TV shows to be considered a trend? Is there reason for this? Does the same 'I need to get away from here' thinking occur in characters born and raised in the city? Is this specific to American TV shows, or other countries' shows too? Perhaps an article on this topic could offer a suggestion as to why the city is so romanticised?

I'm really interested in the evolution of language across literary movements. We saw the quickening and shortening of literary language during the Beat era, and I'd argue the lengthening of language in the decades before. How are we writing today? What will become of modern-day style? I think it's interesting to try and interpret our tendencies in real-time, rather than decades after they've happened. Have we even further shortened words/sentences as a result of the fast-paced digital moment we live in? Is there a niche that has done the opposite (ie. tend toward longer, flowing sentences as a kind of reaction to memes and media)? Have we changed the way we speak and write in some other fundamental way?

In the wake of recent global uprisings on the Black Lives Matter movement, people have turned to books about and written by black people to further educate themselves on the subject. Perhaps the article could talk about a list of books that sheds light on the topic, and why the book is relevant today. While I can think of a list of authors such as Alice Walker, Zora Neale Hurston, Toni Morrison, James Baldwin and a few others, it might be interesting to see a list of both classic and contemporary books that are worth reading and why. It might also be interesting to do a research on lesser known authors or books/short stories published by anonymous sources and look into why you think they were anonymously published or why you think the author/the work did not recieve as much attention as it should have.

Analyze and compare the various stories of creation through various parts of the world. The stories examined will include Genesis, Aztec Mythology , Norse Mythology, Greek Mythology, Eastern Mythology, African Mythologies, et cetera. Specifically how are they similar? How do they differ? What sort of message do they impart?

Coronavirus disease (COVID-19) has become a huge public health topic that has affected many facets of human life this year. One of the entertainment industries most affected by the virus has been the video game industry, which is a global, interconnected industry. A variety of conferences (like E3 and GDC) have been cancelled or postponed, cancellations of major E-Sports events and even game delays (Virtuos Studios recently delayed the Switch Port of Outer Worlds) due to complications related to the virus. Other thoughts would be to explore how Coronavirus disease will impact the production release of Next Gen consoles that are currently on the horizon.

My Hero Academia is one of the most popular anime and manga series today. While the primary characters are heroes, many important characters are villains. The series creator, Kohei Horikoshi is known to subvert common troupes in the shonen genre. However, it's how he treats his villains that is most interesting. It has been noted that characters like Bakugo and Endeavor aren't quite as heroic as expect. They can be considered to be anti-heroes. The true villains of the series have been given arcs of their own.

Currently, the Meta Liberation Army arc is focusing on the development of the League of Villains as they come into conflict with the Liberation Army. The main antagonist, Tomura Shigaraki is given a backstory, as he and his comrades train to become stronger. Why does Horikoshi focus on villains at all? Shigaraki story mirrors Midoriya's, how's that different from typical shonen series? Will focusing on villains in this manner result in readers caring about them more?

The impetus for this topic started because, during the pandemic, I've become rather hooked on Chopped and its iterations. One thing I've noticed about Chopped though, is a dearth of female competitors and winners. Many episodes have male chefs outnumbering females 3-1, and many episodes have the female chef eliminated in round one. Some fans have noted this happens even and especially if female judges outnumber male ones.

Then I started noticing this trend in other competition shows. For instance, I am a huge Jeopardy fan, and have noticed that men win much more often than women. Also, women can have winning streaks–some, like Julia Collins, have won as many as 20 games in a row. But this is nothing compared to the streaks of Ken Jennings (74), James Holzhauer (30 ), and other male players.

This got me thinking, women aren't the only ones getting shortchanged. It's fairly common, for instance, to see persons of Asian descent on Jeopardy or Who Wants to be a Millionaire, but not other POCs. It's becoming more common to see LGBTQ people in competition shows, but not as common as it could be (and those contestants also often lose). Also, while people with learning disabilities or "invisible" diseases such as celiac or diabetes do appear on cooking competitions, trivia competitions, and athletic competitions, it is completely unheard of for people with visible, physical disabilities or disabilities like autism to appear. (Of course, in the case of athletics, the argument is, "Well, we have Special Olympics/Paralympics," but that's problematic in itself).

Is this trend as prevalent as it appears? Is it changing in a positive or negative way? What could competitions, from sports to cooking to trivia, do to be more inclusive and welcoming? Discuss.

Many villains are fan favourites, some are sassy geniuses, some are sexy temptations, some have tragic backstories and a point of view you understand, some a pure unrelenting evil. A good antagonist can be the highlight, the draw point, of a book, show or movie. But where does loving a bad guy in their role as a wicked character and source of suffering become genuine love and desire by the audience?

As fandom culture becomes more widespread and relevant in social media, it's easier than ever to see peoples opinions. And it's easier than ever to development entitled feelings to media when you can communicate with the creators over the same platforms we reveal our inner thoughts.

So when does love for villains become an issue, a detriment to the enjoyment of the content? When a viewer forgets the character is a bad guy and is devastated when treated as such? When a casual fan posts a tweet about how horrid the character is and gets bombarded with hate?

Think Joe Goldberg from You or Kylo Ren from Star Wars, add whomever you think fits into these categories, and discuss how people's opinions and entitlement have gotten out of hand.

Earlier this year, Hachette Book Group came under significant criticism for picking up the rights to publish writer-director-actor Woody Allen's memoir. Much of the criticism was centred on the seeming hypocrisy of the same firm that published Ronan Farrow's "Catch and Kill," a definitive account of the #MeToo era. This was just the latest in a string of filmmakers, writers, actors and other artists being "cancelled" by the court of public opinion. I propose an article that will address, in a balanced and sensitive fashion, the extent to which people should separate the public work of these artists from their alleged private misdeeds.

Suzanne Collins’ newest book, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, a prequel to The Hunger Games trilogy, is set to release May 19th, 2020. This prompts the question: What benefits do prequels provide for a story? The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes supposedly takes place in Panem 64 years before the original trilogy. By backtracking, not only do audiences lose favorite and well known characters, but any world-building that existed needs to be restructured and changed. On the other hand, it does provide significant details to the history, as well as the opportunity to flesh out backstories. Collins isn’t the only author to do this; J. K. Rowling wrote the Harry Potter series, and then Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, going back 70 years in her timeline. So, analyze the potential benefits and possible drawbacks to prequels for beloved novel series.