#Revenge for Jolly fan fiction

[princeescaluswords]

If Peter Hale defenders truly want to run with the "he was MAD!1" excuse, then they have to commit fully to it. Gosh, isn't it strange that Peter shows absolute zero remorse for his actions in that state? That instead of being horrific and racked with guilt, he continues with his murder spree and manipulated his nephew and even impaled him on his claws? If he's prone to fits of madness where he slays his own flesh and blood, why do they insist he'd be a good alpha?

You ever have those questions to which you know the answer but you're hoping that there is a different one? When it comes to the Teen Wolf fandom and particularly Peter-stans, I have plenty.

I truly believe that no Peter fan actually believes that Peter Hale was out of his mind in Season 1 in the sense of he was unaware of what he was doing. They echo Peter's disproven excuse because what they really mean when they say Peter was out of his mind is that they don't believe that Peter did anything wrong.

They didn't spend any time getting to know Laura, so they don't really care about her death. They don't care about whether Garrison Myers fudging an insurance report for money makes him a murderer or an accessory after the fact. They don't care about the indescribable horror of Peter shoving Unger alive into a burning trash barrel. They don't care that Peter was fully prepared to kill Allison even though she was eleven and didn't even know werewolves existed when the fire happened. They think that it was entirely just for Adrian Harris to have been torn apart because he talked to a good-looking woman about arson while drunk in a bar.

That last one always gets me, because they're so adamant that fiction =/= reality so they can get their jollies writing stories where a white male millionaire serial killer gets his revenge on seventeen-year-old Latinos and not consider what it means about their value system, but they don't see anything wrong with a chemistry teacher being executed for talking hypotheticals after a few shots.

There's no need for Peter to show remorse for killing the innocent janitor because who the hell was he? There's no need for Peter to show remorse for luring Laura into an ambush because we see her for like five seconds, and the fandom can always manufacture crimes for which she can be guilty. There's no need for Peter to show remorse for what he did to Derek because ... mumble, mumble, mumble. The fandom has a problem there, because Peter never shows remorse for what he did to Derek -- not about lying to him, not about stabbing him in the back, not about sending him to kill Jackson, not about the long hours when Derek thought he was alone in the world. Why doesn't this behavior bother them?

And here's one of those answers that I know that I wish I didn't: because Peter's the alpha.

They think that Peter Hale would make a good alpha precisely because he uses Derek repeatedly and doesn't feel bad about it at all. Because he's smart enough to turn Lydia into his backup plan while using that same event to force Stiles into helping him. Because he stuffs Creepy Nurse Jennifer into his trunk with a sassy quip. Because he's willing to do what it takes "for his family legacy," which is just a bullshit excuse to take power again. I think the term is BAMF.

Think about it -- when did Peter's focus ever be anything but his personal pleasure at any given time? Even in Season 6, he wanted to win Malia's affections because she was something that should have belonged to him.

To them, the purpose of power is power. Just like Cersei Lannister, just like Kylo Ren, just like Klaus Mikaelson, just like any number of fictional characters who employ their political or physical or supernatural might to get what they want and damn everyone else.

It might seem contradictory because those characters always state that they have a reason to pursue power for power's sake, such as her children, or galactic order, or his vampire family, but the key thing is that they don't recognize a moral imperative to care for anyone else, it's something that is emotionally satisfying for them to do . In other words, something special to their own emotional satisfaction. That's why Peter stans always produce this content where he is cruel or ruthless to everyone but Self-Insert With a Stiles Name Tag. Being loved by someone who loves everyone doesn't give them that special tingly feeling. Being protected because it's the right thing to do doesn't make them feel like they've won something. They desire the regard and affection of villains because it means they're better than everyone else.

It's why anti Scott haters despise that Scott put stopping Jackson and Gerard above Derek's feelings or tracking down Stiles in Master Plan. They may or may not recognize that Scott's actions were entirely for the benefit of other people, because they realize that Scott wouldn't let people burn for them and only them.

It's privilege. It's a means to be considered more valuable than everyone else, more special, without having to obey silly things like rules and mores or actually work for it and that is most effectively demonstrated by being loved by an immoral monster. I so often couple it with racism because it serves the same function -- reward for existing.

#anti peter stans #fandom problems #teen wolf fandom problems #moral decadence

[obisgirl]

Happy Father’s Day Killian Jones!!

Happy Father’s Day Killian Jones!!  

I haven’t written a meta to Killian Jones in a long time but I thought on this Father’s Day, it would be a good time to reflect on the fact that Killian has always been a good father figure before becoming an actual father himself 6 seasons later.  

I know he stumbled a lot in the beginning, finding his good heart but I always knew, once he did that we would finally see the true Killian Jones, and I was right. 

What’s interesting about Killian’s story is that his journey towards becoming a better person and ultimately, a father, has been about his capacity to love.  Killian is the type of man who loves with his whole heart.  He’s also fiercely protective of the people that he loves, and good father’s have to be like that right? 

He wanted to protect Baelfire from Pan during his Neverland days, and I know he might have felt conflicted about doing so, because he wanted his revenge  but I think ultimately, that flashback showed that he needed someone to give him a second chance at a true happy ending.  He needed someone to love and accept him as he is.  If Bae had agreed to stay on the ship, I believe that he would have given up his vengeance for him so he could be this child’s stepfather.  Because that’s what Milah wanted.  

Bae refused him and he had no choice but to give him over to the Lost Boys.  

Then, you parallel Killian’s relationship with Henry centuries later,  (in 3B),  Killian continues to look out for Henry and Emma continues to place him in his care when she’s hunting the Wicked Witch.  She trusts Henry to this pirate because she already knows from past history with him in Neverland, that Hook would protect Henry with his life.  

Later in season four,  I know Rumple wants Killian to get Henry and escape the town during the Snow Queen’s curse and was trying to make the best of the situation,  but I really believe he was trying his best to protect him and get him to safety.  I wish we had seen more of Killian and Henry’s relationship in the later years.  

Later in the season 4 finale,  even though Killian didn’t remember Henry, a part of him still managed to break through and tell Emma to protect Henry from Evil Snow.  That was still within him, regardless of what the author wrote about him being a coward.  

Again, in season 6,  Killian puts Henry first when trying to escape the Nautilus.  He gives him the only escape gear, so at least one of them will get back to Emma.  Killian sacrifices himself so Henry will be safe.  Could he be anymore perfect? Henry thankfully comes back for him because he realizes that he loves Emma too and accepts him into his family.  

Look,  Killian did not have the best father himself.  Brennan Jones abandoned Killian and Liam as boys; not only that, he sold them into slavery in exchange for his freedom.  He already has the worst fictional dad in history. 

I think that’s why Killian wants to be better for those that he truly loves.  He has every reason to hate his dad, and you just know once he learned that Emma was pregnant in season 7,  he was probably at the library, reading up on everything you needed to know about being a first time father.  

I know some Captain Swan fans probably still feel a little cheated that we don’t get to see what Killian is like as a father, but I already know that he’s always been a father and has shown on different occasions the type of man and father he is.  He’s loyal, protective,  sacrificial, loving.  

This is something that Emma knew in season 6, when she watched Killian making doggy faces at Alexandra in Granny’s diner.  She already knew that he was going to be a great father one day, but seeing him be that like, only cemented for her that she really wanted a child with him.  

I also like to think that this Father’s Day, both Killian’s are spending their days with their daughters, perhaps taking turns teaching them to sail The Jolly Roger and Alice and Hope should be proud to be pirate’s daughters.  Or maybe Alice makes a special surprise with Hope to surprise both Killian’s and show them their appreciation for being their papa’s.  

Killian Jones was always a father, it was always within him to be a father; he just needed someone to give him that chance to be a great father.   

#killian jones meta

[hollyethecurious]

CS GTKY 1

Thanks to @cat-sophia for being an A+ Cs Shipper and keeping the fandom a fun, happy place! Thanks to @branlovesouat and @tomeandflickcorner for tagging me!

1. Your favorite CS team work moment.

When Hook turned his ship around and offered his ship and his services to help Emma get Henry back. He took her up on the offer to be a part of something, even to the point of laying aside his revenge and welcoming the Dark One aboard. Though Neverland included the greater group of Nevengers having to work together as a team, I loved all the little moments that paired Hook and Emma together as a team within the team - two people who understood each other.

Steering the Jolly together during the storm

“Hook’s lived here before, so if says hiking up is the best way, then we listen.”

Emma going straight for Hook when the map revealed itself.

Emma looking at Hook for confirmation when Snow blurts out that Neal is alive, and her looking back at him before she crosses the bridge to free Neal.

Hook accepting that magic is a part of who Emma is and not questioning it when she uses it in Dark Hollow (unlike a certain someone...).

Emma seeking out Hook’s knowledge about dreamshade to try and find a way for David to leave the island. Hook remaining silent and allowing Neal to deal with his father about the cure because he knows how important it is to Emma and his involvement wouldn’t help matters.

Emma always turning to Hook for Neverland expertise, even when Neal is there to ask.

Hook taking the lead from Emma, even on his own ship, when she declares they get the hell out of Neverland.

And probably a dozen others that I’ve missed...

2. Close your eyes. What place do you see when you think about your happy, peaceful place. What do you do there?

My brain doesn’t work like this... 

3. Recommend us TV show currently in TV that you love to watch (or two or three…)

Timeless. I’m a history nerd, so that grabbed me right away. I love the historical content, the characters, the humor, and the premise. Y’all need to give it a try!

4. Do you have TV show you want to see? Maybe based on your favorite books?

Hmmm... nothing comes to mind. I haven’t read a work of fiction that wasn’t fan fic in a very long time. 

5. Your favorite fruit?

Blackberries

6. Your favorite movie?

Clue! Love that movie so much. One day I’ll figure out how to morph it into a OUAT/CS AU

Tagging a few friends: @artistic-writer @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @best-left-hook-jones @cocohook38

#cs gtky #fandom fun

[man-creates-dinosaurs]

BIGFOOT JOINS THE RANKS OF AMERICAN CHRISTMAS ICONS

When did Bigfoot become a Christmas icon? I’m sure that question sounds strange to most of you, but I can’t be the only one to have noticed Sasquatch’s gradual induction into the pantheon of modern American Christmas characters. Right now you can buy Bigfoot Christmas tree ornaments, sweaters and stockings online, while a retailer as mainstream as Wal-Mart currently has a pair of yuletide Yeti shirts for sale in stores. If you need more proof just pull up Netflix and check out the new film Pottersville (2017, Dir. Seth Henrikson); an indy Christmas comedy with some major league talent including Michael Shannon (The Shape of Water), Judy Greer (Jurassic World), Ron Perlman (Pacific Rim) and Ian McShane (American Gods) – the latter doing his best impression of Robert Shaw’s character from Jaws (1975, Dir. Steven Spielberg). The film revolves around the small town of Pottersville – from the Christmas classic It’s A Wonderful Life (1946, Dir.  Frank Capra) – which has fallen on hard times economically. The residents gets an unexpected Christmas gift however in the form of a series of Bigfoot sightings which instantly transforms their forgotten hamlet into a must-visit tourist attraction!

Naturally, some people will scoff at the idea of Bigfoot becoming a part of the American Christmas holiday, but personally I’m all for it. I’m a big fan of Christmas monsters, ghosts and goblins – all of which were a part of the season long before Frosty the Snowman and Elf on the Shelf came along and something which I spoke about at length with John W. Morehead of Theofantastique last year. But still, the question persists, when exactly did Bigfoot get in on the holiday scene – or has he always been here?

When looking for Bigfoot’s entry point into the Christmas season the most obvious starting place is Rankin/Bass Productions’ 1964 holiday classic Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (Dir. Larry Roemer & Kizo Nagashima) featuring stop-motion by underappreciated Japanese animator Tadahito Mochinaga. As anyone who has experienced this timeless piece of Christmas Americana knows, Rudolph and his friends spend much of the movie being menaced by a giant Yeti referred to by the various characters as either the Abominable Snow Monster of the North or just the Bumble for short. Perhaps the only true Christmas kaijū, scholar Jason Barr sees the Bumble as one of the many thematic descendants of King Kong, which corroborates author David Coleman’s observation, as found in his encyclopedic The Bigfoot Filmography (2011), that no single film has had more impact on the pop-culture perception of Bigfoot and the Yeti then King Kong (1933, Dir. Merian C. Cooper & Ernest B. Schoedsack).

Of course, King Kong is a work of paleo-fiction, specifically the ‘Lost World’ sub-genre and as a result retains elements of the colonialist worldview which gave rise to the literary and cinematic tradition of stories concerning white explorers traveling to distant exotic lands where – unlike back home – “time stands still” and primitive beasts and people exist in Eden-like bliss; or at least until our intrepid adventures decide it’s their god given right to run roughshod over the place killing and/or capturing the animals and conquering the indigenous inhabitants.

As Barr writes in his book The Kaijū Film (2016), Rudolph’s Bumble is no exception to this tradition as we see the fearsome Snowman “is not only outwitted by the gathered cast” but also reduced to literal “toothless subservience” and subsequently put “to work decorating Christmas trees” in Santa’s workshop. Truly a sad fate for any once ferocious Christmas monster.

But in more recent years the Bumble’s kith and kin appear to be getting their revenge!

This leads us to our second possible point of origin for the modern Christmas Bigfoot; researcher Phyllis Siefker’s 1997 tome Santa Claus, Last of the Wild Men. Here Siefker challenges the conventional notion that America’s Santa Claus is merely a modified version of Europe’s St. Nicholas. After all, asks Siefker, why would Protestant immigrants to the New World bring with them the tradition of an extremely popular Catholic saint? As an alternative explanation Siefker proposes that Santa – with his great beard, furry coat, and habit of nocturnal prowling – is really based upon the ancient pre-Christian figure of the Wildman as outlined in such excellent scholarly works as Richard Bernheimer’s Wild Men in the Middle Ages (1952) and Roger Bartra’s Wild Men in the Looking Glass: The Mythic Origins of the European Otherness (1994).

The idea that Santa isn’t actually a “right jolly old elf” and instead a hairy, savage Bigfoot-like monster must have been at least part of Finnish filmmaker Jalmari Helander’s inspiration for his fantastically bizarre 2010 film Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale in which plucky child protagonist Pietari discovers that “the Coca- Cola Santa is just a hoax” while the actual Kris Kringle is a Kong-sized goat-horned monster who “tears naughty kids to pieces” until “not even their skeletons are left.” Unfortunately for Pietari and his friends, a rich oil tycoon from America – possibly inspired by real-life American oil tycoon Tom Slick (d. 1962) who spent much of his fortune hunting for Bigfoot and the Yeti – has come to unseal the tomb buried beneath the Korvatunturi mountain range where the Saami people imprisoned Santa long ago.

Of course for cryptozoologists like Loren Coleman who entertain the possibility that there might be some truth behind such worldwide Wildman tales, Siefker’s work represents more than just a radical rewriting of Christmastime folklore, but rather the tantalizing – though unlikely - possibility that a character as iconic and beloved as Santa Claus may have been inspired by a relic population of anomalous-primates!

More recently a different kind of yuletide Wildman has been making his presence known here in the US. This, of course, is the Krampus; a kind of shaggy demon with curled goat horns, a lolling red tongue and a talent for punishing naughty children with switches and chains. As outlined in Al Ridenour’s excellent The Krampus and the Old, Dark Christmas (2016), Krampus hails from Austria where in small remote mountains towns such as Bad Gastein and Öblarn the day preceding the Catholic Church’s feast in honor of St. Nicolas sees the celebration of Krampusnacht (“Krampus Night”) in which children of all ages anticipate a visit from St. Nicholas and his posse of Krampus. These house visits are enacted by local Krampuspass (“Krampus Troupes”) composed of men ranging in age from their late teens to early forties who prepare all-year by sewing heavy wool suits made from sheep and goat’s hair and carving handcrafted wooden masks – called klaubaufkopfe (“Krampus heads”) – which along with chains, bells, switches and baskets will be worn by the performers as they accompany St. Nick – typically played by the tallest member of a troupe – throughout the town to distribute rewards and punishments. In addition to these house visits many towns also feature a Krampusumzüge (“Krampus-Run”) in which dozens of individuals dressed as the Krampus run through the streets threatening and menacing children as well as occasionally smacking a pretty young girl on the rear with their switches all while consuming copious amounts of alcohol. All of this makes for a festival that is equal parts Christmas, Halloween and Mardi Gras.

Since the early 2000s Krampus has begun an unassailable assent through mainstream American pop-culture gradually, and now undeniably, situating himself among other time honored holiday icons. According to reporter Christopher Bickel as of 2014 there are annual Krampus runs, bar crawls, parties and other related events being help in over thirty US cities nationwide while Krampus’ likeness can be found on a huge number of products including Christmas sweaters, stockings, ornaments, playing cards, plush and vinyl toys, decorative figurines, t-shirts, books, comics and in cartoons ranging from Scooby-Doo to American Dad. In 2015 Hollywood unleashed two theatrical Krampus flicks with the William Shatner staring anthology A Christmas Horror Story (Dir. Grant Harvey, Steven Hoban & Brett Sullivan) and Legendary/Universal Pictures’ Krampus (Dir. Michael Dougherty). There’s even a company selling an 11-foot-tall animatronic toddler swinging Krampus which you can put in your front yard! Krampus may also have played a part in inspiring another popular 20th-Century American Christmas monster: The Grinch. As artist Jeffrey Vallance – who via several essays has picked up the torch lit by Phyllis Siefker and continued exploring the possibility of Santa’s Wildman roots – has observed: “Over the ages, the brutal Wildman figure evolved into a character more like a clown or holiday fool. How the Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr. Seuss follows a classic Wildman scenario: The Grinch is a hairy, Bigfoot-like creature that lives in an alpine cave in a mountain similar to the Matterhorn.”

While Theodor Geisel – aka Dr. Seuss – maintained that The Grinch was primarily an autobiographical character, considering the beloved children’s author’s German ancestry one cannot help but wonder if yuletide Wildman characters like Krampus didn’t also play some part in the formation of the beloved holiday humbug.  

Back in November I delivered a presentation at the American Academy of Religions in Boston on the Krampus in which I argued that American’s recent infatuation with the Krampus – and other Christmas monsters, including apparently now Bigfoot – can best be understood as an oppositional response to conservative’s alleged “War on Christmas,” a moment perhaps best embodied by comedian Stephen Colbert’s 2009 declaration that Americans “need to bring Krampus to America to fight the War on Christmas.” While it seems clear that many Americans who desired a more interfaith approach to the season did not initially see themselves as engaged in a “War” the continual insistence by certain factions – and Fox News host Bill O’Reilly in particular – that there was indeed one eventually drove those opposed to a totalitarian Protestant interpretation of the holiday to fight back and call in the cavalry in the form of a monstrous menagerie of older darker Christmas creations. As scholar Joseph P. Laycock has observed monsters are often underappreciated sources of religious meaning, a set of symbols and rituals which can be used to inspire awe in the beholder, be it participating in a Krampusumzüge or catching a brief glimpse of Bigfoot. 

#christmas #king kong #krampus #grinch #rare exports #bigfoot #yeti #rudolph the red nosed reindeer #bumble #sasquatch #santa claus #wildman #cryptozoology #pottersville

[jennaschererwrites]

How Instant 'Black Mirror' Classic 'USS Callister' Guts Toxic Fandom - Rolling Stone

It's a familiar image: a strapping, confident young white guy seated in the captain's chair of a spaceship, blaster at his hip, hair coifed just so, one elbow on the armrest, legs spread wide as if to say, "Mine is no tiny penis you are dealing with." He's a hero we all know, love and trust do the right thing in the end, whether it's James T. Kirk or variants like Han Solo, Peter Quill or Mal Reynolds. This is his story. He takes the lead. He gets the glory, and ever it shall be.

Except when it's 2018. And except when it's Black Mirror.

Charlie Brooker and Annabel Jones' anthology sci-fi series kicks off its fourth season with an episode – "USS Callister" – that begins with what seems to be a loving homage to the original 1960s Star Trek. Then, slowly, methodically, the story starts unfurling its true form: a damning exploration of toxic masculinity and the dark side of fanboy nostalgia culture. Here, the heroic captain is anything but, and the misunderstood "nice guy" is the true monster lurking on the dark fringes of the galaxy.

We open on the bridge of the Starship Enterprise-like USS Callister, where the swaggering Captain Daly (Jesse Plemons) and his trusty crew are fighting a space battle complete with harrowing music, old-school special effects and lots of high-grade phlebotinum ("plasmorthian crystals," anyone?). True to every trope, the good guys win the day.

Naturally, this being Black Mirror – a show that revels in gut-wrenching turnabouts – nothing is as it seems, least of all the hero. Daly is a bit tooswaggering; his crew is a bit too trusty. After he defeats the bad guy with suspicious ease, the men launch into a round of "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow" while the women line up to be kissed by the good captain. Something is deeply wrong with this squeaky-clean scene: The crewmembers' smiles are plastered on, and there's a glint of malice in their fearless leader's eyes.

Cut to gray reality, where we meet the real Robert Daly: a whey-faced office drone with a receding hairline and the stooped posture of the pathologically insecure. He's the CTO of Callister Inc., a company that designs an immersive MMORPG called Infinity, in which players can explore a virtual cosmos in their very own virtual starships. The members of his "crew" are there too, belittling or ignoring him: The USS Callister's bowing and scraping second-in-command, James Walton (Jimmi Simpson), is the ultra-alpha head of the company; the communications officer (Michaela Coel) won't give Daly the time of day.

Our beta male is the brains behind the game, but everyone at his company treats him like gum stuck to the underside of their shoes. His office is decked out with posters and memorabilia from Space Fleet, a Star Trek-esque TV show from a bygone era whose aesthetic we instantly recognize from the opening scene. So is he a put-upon sweetheart, bullied by his peers, who escapes the drudgery of his day-to-day via a rich but ultimately harmless fantasy life?

Not so much. Turns out he's been secretly harvesting his coworkers' DNA in order to create digital clones to populate his own walled-off version of Infinity. We see him enact the process on Nanette Cole (Cristin Milioti), a new employee who idolizes Daly for his coding genius but commits the grievous sin of not wanting to hook up with him. And so he finds a way to possess her the same way he meticulously collects his complete set of Space Fleet DVDs (and Blu-rays and VHS tapes, natch).

We discover along with Nanette, who wakes up aboard the Callister in a pastel polyester miniskirt, just how bad things are for Daly's digital prisoners. He's the god of this tiny universe, forcing his crew to LARP along with him using torture and intimidation. He's every disaffected nerd-bro with an X-Box and an ax to grind who delights in torturing NPCs (non-player characters) for the sheer sadistic thrill. Except these are real people, and Daly has knowingly trapped them in his own private Hell.

And to make matters worse, he's pedantic about it, lecturing them about the vintage show's moral code ("It is a belief system, founded on the very best of human nature") even as he brutalizes anyone who defies his will. Daly's rigid adherence to Space Fleet fandom extends to more than just words: Women don't get guns, no one ever really dies and unwholesome genitalia are morphed into the flat, undifferentiated physique of action figures. This is the last straw for Nanette, who declares in a moment instantly GIFed 'round the Twitterverse: "Stealing my pussy is a red fucking line."

And that's when "USS Callister," thrillingly, becomes a rip-roaring space caper in its own meta-narrative. Except the scrappy, charismatic hero isn't Daly, with his posturing and his forced Shatnerian speech patterns; it's Nanette, who's smart as hell and sick to death of putting up with his expectations.

The best Black Mirror episodes – of which "USS Callister" is definitely one – identify issues lurking beneath the surface of the real world and extrapolate them into a future where technology has given them form and heft. In this case, it's the fanboy backlash that's become an all-too-familiar presence in our pop-culture conversation. We're talking about legions of speculative fiction fans on the Internet who feel that, in expanding the worlds of beloved sci-fi properties to include more diverse representation and worldviews, something is being taken from them.

Their complaint, broadly, is founded on the deeply limiting idea that all narratives should center on straight, white men, who have been the unquestioned default protagonists up until very recently. This is an idea that's particularly ironic in the world of sci-fi, which is all about imagining potential futures in which anything is possible. Daly, on the other hand, builds himself a world that is incredibly constricted, based on his devotion to a retrograde narrative. Does any of this sound familiar?

It's only a step from there to the current, very loud backlash against The Last Jedi, Rian Johnson's addition to the Star Wars universe that takes on some of the franchise's sacred cows: It puts a largely non-white, non-male cast at the center of the narrative, takes aged golden boy chosen one Luke Skywalker in an unexpected direction and asks whether the Jedi Order is really all it's cracked up to be. Certain loud, angry corners of fandom hated Jedi so much that a petition was created to have it struck from the canon and a group of alt-righters (surprise!) launched a campaign to lower the movie's Rotten Tomatoes score.

Equal ire has been leveled at Doctor Who, another sci-fi institution that shook off the dust recently when the good Doctor, who's been played by a series of men since 1963, regenerated into a woman (viva Jodie Whittaker!) And then there's Star Trek: Discovery, CBS All Access's long-awaited return to Gene Roddenberry's universe that has faced unabashedly racist reactions for casting a black female lead (Sonequa Martin-Green).

And just like Daly, they're deeply missing the point. What Star Wars, Doctor Who and Star Trek have in common – aside from decades of canon and rabidly devoted fandoms – is a vision of vast, multifaceted galaxies and universes teeming with diverse societies and life forms. All three franchises have taken a great leap forward in recent months to make their central characters reflect that ethos, and it's far past due. There will always be Dalys, but there will also always be Nanettes, too, boldly going where no man has gone before. (Black Mirror itself did, too, in its way — all of Season Four's six episodes feature female leads.)

The denouement of "USS Callister" offers one of Black Mirror's rare hopeful endings — and a low-key revenge fantasy to boot. The Callister has escaped and left Daly trapped in the starless black of his own switched-off bubble universe. (Turns out he was never a god ... just an oversized kid burning ants with a magnifying glass.) Released into the vast, Net-connected cosmos of Infinity, the liberated crew is thrilled to make contact with someone from the real world. But "Gamer691" (voiced by Aaron Paul) turns out to be an all-too-familiar kind of asshole who threatens to "bomb them to shit" if they don't get out of his quadrant.

And rather than bothering to engage in this unwinnable, childish fight, Nanette claims the captain's chair and instructs her crew: "Stick us in hyperwarp and let's … fuck off somewhere." They're off to explore the universe, and Gamer691 is left shouting into the empty vacuum of his lonely corner of the galaxy: "You better run! King of space right here. King of space." But no one is listening to him anymore.

#jenna scherer #black mirror #uss callister #rolling stone #toxic masculinity #television #sci-fi #sexism #the last jedi #star wars #fanboys #misogyny #representation #doctor who #star trek discovery #star trek

[mendo-r]

Kenneth Branagh: 'I want you to smell the steam of the Orient Express'

A new article about  Murder on the Orient Express from The Guardian

The actor-director’s latest film, Murder on the Orient Express, boasts a stellar cast, including Branagh himself as Poirot. He discusses magnificent moustaches, moral brooding and the passion of Agatha Christie 

“Women in wild places and mental instability run right through things, don’t they?” says Kenneth Branagh, leaning forward, earnestly. “She’s very, very sensitive, and I see the ghost of her as a heroine in what she writes, in terms of keeping body and soul together, and of being an adventurer.”

He’s talking about Agatha Christie, and giving a reading of the detective novelist’s fiction that is a long way from the more traditional view of her as a comfy West Country matriarch who churned out mysteries to support her family. “I think people have been pretty tough on her,” he adds. “They’re suspicious of the volume of her output. She herself admitted that sometimes she wasn’t proud of a book when she had finished it.

“Personally I admire the prolific nature of what she does … her ability to grab the audience’s attention is really striking. The surface of what she writes has led people to dismiss her as a second-rater. But I think she is far more than that.”

Branagh is talking about Christie as he gets ready to unveil his big-screen versionof her classic Murder on the Orient Express (the first cinematic interpretation since 1974), her story of a group of passengers and a dead body trapped in a luxurious train in a snow storm. He stars as the legendary Belgian detective Hercule Poirot.

“I think people often feel this about Shakespeare – they’re annoyed by his bourgeois credentials,” he says.

“He retires at the normal age, goes back to Stratford, buys houses, gets involved in disputes about rent. It feels as though there’s a sort of middle manager quality in there; he was a businessman, a shareholder, yet he wrote all these plays. That makes people suspicious.

“With Christie, people essentially have her down as a sort of Miss Marple – a sexless, removed, bookish, woolly, very English sort of individual. And they are not aware of the intrepid, pioneering, passionate woman that she was.”

The lineaments of her life back this view. Christie had such a desire to travel – and to keep her first husband, the dashing Archie Christie, happy – that she set off on a year of travel with him in 1924, leaving her daughter Rosalind at home with her mother. She left Rosalind again when she famously vanished for 11 days after discovering Archie was having an affair; she underwent psychiatric treatment in the wake of the incident. After their divorce, she travelled alone on the Orient Express, to Istanbul and then on to Damascus and Baghdad. Her family worried about her on the trip but for her it was a way of discovering new worlds – and, coincidentally, a new companion in life since she met her second husband, Max Mallowan, on a dig in Ur. Despite her writing commitments, she worked alongside him, often in difficult conditions and exotic locations.

Branagh and I talk at Twickenham Studios. He is tired because of an exhausting schedule which is whisking him around the world, but he’s here to put the finishing touches to his film, which boasts an all-star cast: Judi Dench, Michelle Pfeiffer, Daisy Ridley, Olivia Colman, Penélope Cruz, Johnny Depp, Derek Jacobi, Sergei Polunin …

The way the trailer is framed, with captions that reveal the type of character each star is playing, takes both the film and its director back to his youth in the 1970s and early 80s, when the posters for movies such as The Towering Inferno and indeed Sidney Lumet’s 1974 version of Murder on the Orient Express, starring Albert Finney as Poirot, were plastered across the streets of Branagh’s home town of Reading. To the boy who had moved there at the age of nine from his native Belfast, they represented a sense of possibility. “My first encounter was with their sense of glamour,” he says. “I was pretty intrigued by all the names on those posters.”

This liking for good performers coming together to make popular entertainment is perhaps what links the two contrasting sides of Branagh’s current career. There is the actor and director who is regarded as one of the best of his age; an eminent Shakespearean, the first man to film Henry V since Olivier, a talent who can gather a top-flight company of actors to perform a season in the West End which included heavy-weight productions of The Winter’s Tale and The Entertainer. Then there is the Hollywood film director, best known for the comic-book movie, Thor. And Cinderella. He grins when I point out the strange collision between Hollywood and serious stage productions.

“No one, quite frankly, is more surprised than me that I have been allowed to get away with it,” he says. “I had not anticipated or planned for suddenly finding myself in this studio groove. It is unusual, I must say. But it’s fun.”

Shot on 70mm film, his version of Murder on the Orient Express gleams as the camera dwells on the crisp table linen, the polished wood and the glistening glasses. “I wanted you to feel the snow and smell the steam – I wanted to have all the advantages of classic material and none of the disadvantages of over-familiarity,” he says.

For Christie fans, there are some changes – to characters, to locations, to motivation – that may surprise. But all the essential ingredients are faithfully reproduced, and Branagh has added considerable depth to his portrayal of Poirot, making him more active, more passionate and more lonely. “The screenplay caught a hurt and a more tangible isolation in Poirot,” Branagh explains. “There is a kind of vulnerability about this man who appears in The Mysterious Affair at Styles with a touching gratitude to England for looking after Belgian refugees. There’s the sense of someone who has already felt the bruises of the world.”

Did he not feel any trepidation about taking on a character who has already been portrayed by 20 actors, including Orson Welles, Peter Ustinov and, on TV, David Suchet? “It’s a lot isn’t it?” says Branagh with that disarming smile. “I guess that’s where my thickish skin comes into it. You do understand that the reason so many people have played him is because he’s a fantastic character.”

He stopped watching other incarnations when he knew he was about to deliver his own (“I wouldn’t want to get caught copying the other boys”), but recognises the various ways that the detective has burrowed into the collective consciousness. “With the amount of source material in the novels every actor is going to bring something unique and unusual, in the same way as would happen with a famous classical part. David Suchet is a fantastic Poirot, so is Finney and John Moffatt on the radio is excellent.”

Discussion about his own characterisation will, I suspect, be dominated by conversations about his moustache – grey and flourishing and twinned with a natty beard. “We probably spent about nine months on it. We started with something thinner than Charlie Chaplin’s, then something that went up, that went down. We looked at famous moustaches in movies and paintings. The luxury as an actor – and I had this before when I was playing Wallander – is that you can go back to the books and trawl for details.

“I loved Christie’s phrasing – ‘the most magnificent moustaches in England’ – and I enjoyed the fact that the risk you were taking was that you would potentially produce the impact that the moustache has on characters in the novels, who often dismiss or ridicule Poirot, or are embarrassed by him.”

That mention of Wallander – whom Branagh portrayed in the British television adaptation of Henning Mankell’s detective books, feels significant. Christie wrote Murder on the Orient Express in 1933, on an archaeological dig at Arpachiyah in Iraq. Published the following year, it was rapturously received, though the audacity of its plot caused Raymond Chandler to remark that it was “guaranteed to knock the keenest mind for a loop. Only a half-wit could guess it.”

His damning view of the British golden age detective novel – “futzing around with timetables and bits of charred paper and who trampled the jolly old flowering arbutus under the library window” – and his preference for psychologically based novels where a “perfunctory mystery element [is] dropped in like the olive in a martini” underlines the division in the thriller market that has existed ever since.

But the dichotomy between the advocates of clever plotting and the lovers of a story that reveals a deeper truth about society or character is misleading when applied to Christie. She may write in simple sentences, but it is the way she imagines character that has ensured the longevity of her books.

Branagh, a fan of both schools of thriller, points out that there is not so much difference between them. “I enjoyed the meditative qualities of what the Wallander novels were doing. But there’s quite a moral brood in Murder on the Orient Express as well.

“There are not only the questions of who did it, how did they do it, and why, but also the question of what now represents justice. And that issue of what justice is – when concerning crimes born out of revenge – goes quite deep in analysing whether an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth ultimately is a way to order civilised behaviour.”

He worked on the film at the same time as he was directing Hamlet, starring Tom Hiddleston, as a fund-raiser for Rada. “Curiously, both stories seem to me to contain the poison of deep grief, and that idea of loss and the death of innocence. I think there is a passionate depth to Christie, even though she sometimes said her writing is merely entertainment.”

Sensing that darkness beneath the surface sheen means that he has been anxious to avoid what he calls “heritage movie-making”. “I wanted to remove excessive theatricality – a sense of the sort of fluting, shrill shriek, of so called ‘larger than life’ characters. I wanted to feel that people were talking not much louder than we are now.”

Assembling his cast – consisting of old friends and colleagues and young talent – was a moment to remember.

“When they all met for the first time, they were very shy and excitable. And one of the things I was determined to do was to try to capture that energy as soon as possible. I wanted a quiver of real guilt and uncertainty when they are interviewed by Poirot, to feel as if they were people for whom the prospect of him getting it wrong and accusing them was a matter of life and death.”

Murder on the Orient Express is in cinemas from 3 November.

#Kenneth Branagh #Murder on the Orient Express #agatha christie