#by fans and himself. (in reality he's just. Not A Great Actor Or Storyteller in those contexts as admitted by himself lol) while I'm def not | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zandracourt · 4 years

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And now for something completely personal...

I have unfollowed Misha on social media, which makes me sad. I appreciate anyone who wants to keep talking, but I had to turn it off because Misha’s words tonight were hard to hear from someone I thought had a better understanding of the community he is advocating for. And perhaps what we are seeing is just the reality of being an ally versus actually being part of the community. In the same way that whites just end up sounding defensive and tone deaf when trying to explain why something racist really wasn’t.

My story is of being bi. I have a daughter who is pan, and I am het-married because that happened before I fully understood my bisexuality. I’m out now and I have had F/F experiences, but I have not moved in the world with a full-time female sexual partner, so I don’t know the full weight of queer oppression and I think that is important for people to know.

But what I do know really, really well is what it’s like to not fully understand being bisexual until my late 30s-early 40s because of falling for my best friend. I understand that it takes time to process and even believe in the feelings you have. It can take years. I understand having to come to terms with queerness when you’ve lived your life very convincingly heterosexual. I understand the sense of hypocrisy and denial you feel inside. And I understand what it means to know that a life you might idealize just can’t be the life you live. So I profoundly understand Cas making a confession of love and having Dean not be able to reciprocate, whatever his reason. What I don’t understand is why you took a situation that could have been a true gift to the queer community and literally salt and burn it to ash.

The damage SPN did was in being unwilling to operate from any kind of queer perspective while deliberately using queer tokenism to manipulate a fanbase for profit and longevity. The problem the show cannot escape is that the world has changed tremendously in 15 years. Queer viewers no longer have to accept scraps. We have shows that give us queer characters right up front in many genres. Not saying they all do them well, but representation is higher than it has ever been. And that is exactly why all this schlock by the CW, the desperate attempts by the actors to smooth it all over, and their repeated comments that they just have no idea why everyone is so upset just feels like they are reacting to not being able to continue to use queerness for profit and not out any actual caring for queer people. They just don’t want the bad press and they don’t want to be called out for their homophobia because that damages their reputations. They had a chance to be a landmark in queer storytelling and ended up as a enormous example of everything wrong with homophobic storytelling and queerbaiting.

Destiel is not new. It’s not fringe. And it’s not our fucking imaginations. It’s not. And if you can’t see it, chances are you are hopelessly, painfully straight. You will never get queer stories and I feel bad for you honestly, because the depth and vitality that queer characters and queer romance brings to storytelling is incredible.

Cas loved Dean, yes. And he finally got the courage to say so and promptly died. It DOES. NOT. MATTER. Why he died. It doesn’t matter that we got word he was brought to heaven or that it was written by a gay writer. It IS a bury-your-gays, devastating, repressive, horrible message because Cas never got to be fulfilled as a queer character. He never got to discover how to be queer and find happiness even if Dean doesn’t love him back. He became canonically gay and died within seconds. That is NOT supporting the queer community or queer stories. It’s literally killing them.

As for Dean and whatever he said or didn’t say, again, the conspiracy theories around it demonstrates exactly why people are so upset. Because they were cowards. They were cowards in an era when everyone is fucking done with those who cannot take a stand and instead flounder in the “there are great people on both sides” ethos. It is the same level of GTFO attitude I have for any one who says “gays are fine, as long as they are not gay here”: be that church, a restaurant, on a television set, or any where else. To echo Justice Ginsberg, there will be enough queer stories on TV when they all are. And it is exactly SPN’s fear of “going there” with Destiel YEARS ago that brought them to this miserable end. Destiel only became a risk worth doing when they believed there was no cost to them; when they could kill everyone and never show anyone being queer so they never had to actually deal with queerness at all. After all, Buffy didn’t truly love Spike, but she still told him she loved him and held his hand as he sacrificed himself for her in the final episode. *That* is the trope of a sacrificial romantic death. And now they are paying the price for their lack of integrity to their own show and story telling.

As a final note, I’ve been thinking about the fact that as a fic writer, I’ve had no desire to fix this ending, despite having written many Destiel fics over the years. The embers were still burning on the McDanno dumpster-fire last April when I started to write that fix-it fic and that was my first ever fic in that fandom! That’s how badly I needed to change that ending for myself. After Endgame, I needed better closure for Steve, so I wrote one. But after SPN, I’ve had no desire to write Destiel at all. I haven’t even wanted to read any SPN fics. I have lost my joy for the show and everything attached to it.

I don’t give a shit about CW or most of their programming. I *have* cared about the actors and the fan spaces because there are amazing people there and Misha has been an incredible role model in so many, many ways for not just the fandom, but for human beings in general. Until tonight.

Nina Simone said we all have to learn to get up from the table when love is no longer being served. That was exactly how I felt when I saw Misha’s message on Facebook. He is so much more than this fandom and after some time, I know I will probably follow him again in the future because he is a truly fine person who is doing incredible things in this world. For now, though, I can’t.

So to the network, showrunners, and as painful as it is to say, actors, here’s the hard, cold, truth: Destiel fans have not caused any of this. The show did. And sadly, there is nothing you can do to repair the damage you have done. That is your legacy now and we all have to live with it.

#SPN #Destiel #Misha Collins #TheySilencedYou

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sometime-in-1995 · 3 years

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GAYA SA PELIKULA

Beautifully and properly done PH BL Series I've ever seen.

Of course, it is very relatable and my connection to the series is stronger than all the other BL Series I've seen before because it's proudly Filipino made. The culture and language is their and it's definitely a huge factor. But honestly, more than that, it is really well-made. I wasn't really expecting much from it and I honestly thought it's gonna be awkward and cringey but the actors did their roles sooo well. 💯

The story didn't have much character or actors in it. There's only 8 actors (Vlad, Karl, Ate Judit, Anna, Tito Sants, Sue, Karl's Mom & Dad) which we see play their respective characters on screen and 2 characters which we're portrayed behind the scenes (Vlad's mom & ex). Another thing was that the series was only composed of 8 episodes with running time of less than 30mins each. At first, I wondered about how they're gonna properly portray such story and build conflicts and character development with a very limited span of time. But they proved it and made it so aesthetically beautiful. A masterpiece.

As a Filipino and as a BL fan, I've seen lots of other series from other countries. And I've always wished for a PH BL to happen. I know there are other PH BL Series that was aired first like My Husband's Lover but I haven't seen that one yet or any other PH BL series before. Gaya sa Pelikula is my first and I have to say, I am quite pleased and it defnitely exceeded my expectation. I'd say, it's something to be proud of. I know it's BL and not everyone's comfortable with that genre. But if the only reason you're not watching it is because it's BL, then you're definitely missing out. It's not even an overstatement when I say, "Gaya Sa Pelikula is one of the best produced PH Series ever". To my fellow Pinoy BL Fans out there, especially to my followers, if you haven't seen Gaya sa Pelikula yet, you gotta see it. It's a must watch. And to my foreign BL fan followers or if you're just coming across this post, I encourage you to watch it. It's 💯 chef's kiss.

Juan Miguel Severo's really a master storyteller of his generation. I've always been at awe by his brilliance ever since I knew about him. He's able to touch on the very significant aspects of BL genre. Each episode was so poetic. The end quotes on each episode was so beautiful. The script was so well written. And the actors aren't your mainstream idols, but they're very effective and honestly, they are such great actors. The series was a low cost production with high quality product results.

Gaya Sa Pelikula is honestly a revolution in the PH filmmaking scene and maybe even in the TV series scene. As I could remember, BL in the Philippines is mostly portrayed in the sexy indie movies. They focus so much on the sexual part of it and forget or even ignore to portray the more significant part of being in the LGBT+ community. And I actually didn't like that. Or maybe it's just the frustration of not seeing a healthy relationship being portrayed in a BL Series especially in the Philippines without it being sexualized.

That's why the society is still not that quite receptive of the community. It's true, Philippines is becoming open than ever it was before and compared to other countries. We're open about it but the reservation is still there. The law and the church is still navigating on this matter. It's still an ongoing fight. What I'm saying is, the media also plays a huge role in this battle.

Karl's dilemma is valid the same way as Vlad's. Karl just realized about his gender, his preference, his identity. He's just discovered something essebtial about himself and it isn't something so easy to accept and tell the whole wide world. He's still navigating through everything. Even for Vlad or even Tito Sants who has known about their identity a looong time ago is still navigating their way in this harsh reality. If there's any character in the series which I could say I was able to relate to, I'd say it's Judit and Anna. I can relate on Judit being a sister

and Anna as a true supportive friend.

We're both a Scorpio, btw Honestly, I'm glad that Vlad & Karl has Anna, a common friend who knows about the truth of the special thing they have.

Okay, I'm just gonna leave it here. I don't wanna spoil you guys so go and watch it. But before that, I'm leaving this here:

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365days365movies · 3 years

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February 24, 2021: Annie Hall (1977) (Part 1)

Well...Woody Allen.

I, uh...OK, look, I could get into the whole Woody Allen thing, but INSTEAD of me doing that, I’ll just say this: look into it. Because there is a LOT on this subject, and it’s controversial as HELL. At the end of the day, I’ll recommend this upcoming series on HBO, and just recommend that you look into it.

Because, uh...yeah, it’s not great. That’s all I’m gonna say, because I need to educate myself on it more as well. Instead, let’s talk for a few seconds about divorcing the art from the artist. But ONLY for a few seconds.

I understand why some of you might be surprised I’m doing this one. Because, again...Woody Allen. But, yeah, I always try to do my best to divorce the art from the artist. Because some people suck, but they still make nice things, or at the very least, things that should be open to interpretation and appreciation.

“Superfreak” is a classic song of 1981, and everybody’s heard at least some of it, but Rick James fuckin’ kidnapped two women and kept them in his basement, WHERE HE TORTURED THEM. Edgar Degas made beautiful paintings of ballet dancers, and was also A MASSIVE ANTI-SEMITE. And before he was (RIGHTFULLY AND JUSTIFIABLY) outed as a roofie-ing piece-o-shit...I grew up with - and genuinely enjoyed - this guy’s comedy.

And you can judge me for this, but...I still think his stand-up was and is genuinely funny, and I still appreciate the cultural impact that The Cosby Show had on society’s perception of African-American families, divorced from the stereotype of the ghetto. Fact of the matter is, works themselves deserve to be separated from the artist who made them. That’s my philosophy, and I’m sticking with it Entirely fine to disagree with me, by the way, I get it.

But in that spirit, I’m watching Annie Hall, despite its creators likely transgressions. After all, this is technically his magnum opus, and it’s a good look into the man himself. And so, with that in mind: Annie Hall! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

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Alvy Singer (Woody Allen) is talking directly to us about his outlook on life, and his view on the potential future. He tells half of a joke, then an amusing anecdote, and a bit more until telling us that he’s broke up with Annie, and he’s still thinking about it, trying to figure out exactly where things went wrong. He goes back to the beginning, which is punctuated with flashbacks.

He grew up in Brooklyn in World War II, and a young Alvy (Jonathan Munk) is with his mother (Joan Newman) at the doctor’s. He’s depressed after learning that the universe will one day end after a period of expansion, and is having his first real existential crisis. I had mine around the same age, actually, went I learned that the Earth will one day get swallowed by the sun. And THEN came the realization that I’d be dead by that point. AND THEN came the realization that I’d die one day, and that was a WHOLE NEW crisis to...anyway.

He grew up under the Coney Island rollercoaster according to him (although his analyst says that he exaggerates), and that’s what he blames for his “nervous personality. He’s also got an active imagination, often blurring fantasy and reality. His Dad ran the bumper cars on Coney Island (a place that I’ve never been, but desperately want to go).

He continues on talking about his former schoolmates, and not really that well. While in class, young Alvy kisses a...little girl...ahem. And then, when reprimanded by the teacher, current Alvy notes that he was always...like that...and he also says this to the little girl, and they talk about Freud’s latency period, and Alvy said he never...had...one...that’s uh...that’s fuckin’ SOMETHING, now isn’t it?

OK, well, shoving that forcefully aside as hard as I can, Alvy wonders aloud on where his classmates now, and one of them says this:

This also involves a little girl saying she’s “into leather,” which is...awkward as FUCK, but WE’RE GONNA MOVE THE FUCK ON. Alvy recounts his paranoia, and was so even after he became a famous comedian (which we say after a VERY good joke about qualifying for the army as a hostage). He speaks to a friend, Rob (Tony Roberts) about potential anti-Semitism from a person in a passersby meeting, then heads to meet Annie.

Annie Hall (Diane Keaton) arrives at a movie theater, late and in a bad mood. The two are late to their intended film, argue briefly, then head to another film that they’ve already seen, The Sorrow and the Pity. In line, they’re in front of a man loudly soliloquizing on film, much to Alvy’s annoyance.

Annie and Alvy continue to argue a bit, while Alvy openly berates the casual film critic. In the middle, he talks to the audience about it, only to be followed by the crtiic himself, who also acknowledges the audience! Huh! Anyway, he’s a professor at Columbia, and starts continuing his line speech, this time on the work of Marshall McLuhan, one of the most important early media theorists ever. And then, Alvy brings out Marshall McLuhan (Marshall McLuhan) to debate him on it, only for Alvy to turn to the audience and wish aloud that life could really be like this!

I’m beginning to understand why people like this film. It’s metacontextual before metacontextuality was really a thing in film. It’s a fourth-wall breaking movie in some fantastic ways. But will it still hold its muster after breaking the fourth wall’s become so commonplace? we’ll see, I guess.

After a showing of the film, the two return home, and Alvy tries to initiate sex. But Annie’s not really into it at the moment, and Alvy complains that they used to have sex all the time, and it’s been a while since. So, I guess that retroactively awkward scene at the school was meant to foreshadow Alvy’s high libido, that will probably cause some conflict in the film. Anyway, Annie notes that Alvy once went through something similar with Allison, his first wife. Who’s Allison? Flashback!

Allison Portchnik (Carol Kane) is a graduate student in political science, working for a campaign that Alvy’s about to perform for. He’s nervous, as he’s going on after another comedian. She comforts him by saying that she thought he was cute, and he does well. But we flash-forward to a night after they’re married, shortly after the death of JFK, which Alvy’s obsessing over, entertaining various conspiracy theories.

However, Allison rightly points out that his obsession is simply a way for him to avoid having sex with her, which mirrors the present-day situation him him and Annie. Flash forward TO Alvy and Annie, and there are just lobsters...everywhere, on the floor in their kitchen. After that commotion, they talk about Annie’s past romances.

And by talk about, I mean they LITERALLY WALK THROUGH her memories. And I gotta say...I fuckin’ love this method of storytelling. One of her previous boyfriends is an actor (John Glover), and his over-dramatic prose sickens Alvy. We see a second marriage of Alvy’s to New Yorker writer Robin (Janet Margolin), who’s dragged him to a stuffy high society party of intellectuals that he has no interest in going to. Same her, Alvy. I bet the caviar’s canned.

He tries to initiate sex with her - in the middle of the party, mind you - and she turns him down. later, when they get to it in their apartment, she’s unable to, uh...reach satisfaction. From there, we flash-forward after that marriage ends to a tennis match with Rob, where he meets one of his mutual friends: Annie Hall.

And for the record, Annie’s pretty obviously got a crush on him, and she’s adorable as fuck. Also, that outfit, real talk...that outfit rules. She offers to give Alvy a list, during which he’s quite worried about her driving, but the two still get along well enough. Annie’s an amateur photographer, during a time period where photography is considered a relatively new art form. The two go to her apartment, and share familial anecdotes and personal stories about themselves. And as they talk, we also see a set of subtitles on top of each of them that betray their inner feelings and thoughts.

I do genuinely like the stylings of the movie, goddamn. This conversation leads to Alvy asking her out on a date, although they end up scheduling it after Annie auditions at a nightclub as a singer. And while it doesn’t go great, Alvy tells her she was fantastic, and they share a kiss before they head to dinner. They head to her place afterwards, and we cut to later that night, post-coitus.

And then, we get a flash-forward back to the next day, where the two are at a bookstore, and Alvy speaks on his personal philosophy of life.

I'm obsessed with uh, with death, I think. Big - big subject with me, yeah. I have a very pessimistic view of life. You should know this about me if we're gonna go out. You know, I - I feel that life is - is divided up into the horrible and the miserable. Those are the two categories, you know. The - the horrible would be like, um, I don't know, terminal cases, you know, and blind people, crippled. I don't know how they get through life. It's amazing to me. You know, and the miserable is everyone else. That's - that's - so - so - when you go through life - you should be thankful that you're miserable because you're very lucky to be miserable.

Iiiiinteresting.

Shortly into their relationship, they admit they’re in love (or “lurve”, as Alvy says). She moves in with Alvy, which he initially isn’t the biggest fan of, having been burned in two previous marriages And already, their relationship is showing a few bumps. Alvy’s also always trying to push her to take college classes, while she uses mariuana whenever they have sex, which Alvy doesn’t agree with.

But as they have sex one night, without the marijuana at Alvy’s urging, Annie’s mind wanders - LITERALLY.

This film...this film has a VERY unique style of visual storytelling, and I am HERE for it! Seriously, I genuinely love this method of storytelling and comedy, it’s extremely engaging to me.

Soon enough, Alvy gets an interview to write for a talk show host, which he ABSOLUTELY despises. But in doing so, he decides to go into stand-up for himself, and is actually quite successful at it! But before we get to that, we’re at the halfway point! See you in Part 2!

#annie hall #woody allen #diane keaton #tony roberts #carol kane #paul simon #shelley duvall #christopher walken #romance february #romance movie #romcom #romantic comedy #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year

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itsuhtrap42 · 3 years

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The Last Jedi and Nonviolence

Peace and Purpose:

The Philosophy of Nonviolence in Star Wars: The Last Jedi

Evan M. Banks

Spring 2019

“And where we had thought to find an abomination, we shall find a god; where we had thought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves; where we had thought to travel outward, we shall come to the center of our own existence; and where we had thought to be alone, we shall be with all the world.”

-Joseph Campbell, The Power of Myth

“Death is a natural part of life. Rejoice for those around you who transform into the Force. Mourn them do not. Miss them do not. Attachment leads to jealousy. The shadow of greed, that is.”

-Yoda, Revenge of the Sith

“Let the past die. Kill it, if you have to.”

-Kylo Ren, The Last Jedi

“Your weapons, you will not need them.”

“What’s in there?”

“Only what you take with you.”

Yoda and Luke, The Empire Strikes Back

Studying religion and philosophy in the Star Wars universe has been a time-honored tradition among eccentric scholars with a penchant for all things geek since the first film debuted in 1977. What is widely regarded as one of the best qualities of the franchise is that it follows relatable characters and tells relatable stories in a fanciful and faraway place. Moviegoers from all over the globe identify with these characters as they face Earthly problems—love, betrayal, slavery, loyalty, devotion, religiosity, pain, loss, anguish, and triumph. It is in this reality that the developers of the franchise discuss complex philosophical, religious, and moral questions that humanity has struggled with since time immemorial. However, what sets these conversations apart from the human condition as we know it is the ever-present existence of the mysterious energy field that is commonly referred to by Star Wars’ pantheon as, “The Force.” At no period throughout the experience can a viewer reasonably argue that in the Star Wars universe, the Force does not exist. Yet, to what degree does the Force affect itself upon actors within the universe? This is a question that, throughout the stories, the creators of this morality play try and tackle—or at least use to explore the possibilities of what truth is. The existence of an interconnective power that may or may not influence actors’ decisions, thoughts, and actions comes with it the necessity of religions and philosophies within the universe itself that attempt to explain or interpret this phenomenon. These in-franchise vehicles are necessary to characterize the feasibility of the otherwise impossible feats carried out by benevolent or nefarious space-wizards who can harness and observe this powerful Force.

For over forty years fans and scholars have discussed the subtle and overt nuances in Star Wars and it does not take much to get two fans together to begin arguing about the nature of the Force, the role of government in society, what makes goodness and evil, and even the intrinsic value of a life, i.e. was Han justified in shooting Greedo in Episode IV? But by 2017, forty-one years later, the narrative started to take a turn. Filmmakers were criticized for rehashing the same old stories over and over again—which is wholly ironic considering that George Lucas derived a great deal of his inspiration from Joseph Campbell who posited that many of the Earth’s great myths were of independent invention yet held the same truths, and every great epic story since their advent were variations and derivations of these same morality plays. In light of these criticisms it was essential that the filmmakers explore new ideas and communicate a new message—at least one they had not communicated before. And in Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, that message pertains to how effective nonviolent action can be in the face of extreme tyranny. To discuss this relationship, a foundation in established Star Wars philosophy is essential.

There is no better place to start than Joseph Campbell. As a prominent and influential scholar, Campbell posited many theories regarding the nature of myths and their relationships with culture and even one’s own being. George Lucas is known for utilizing Campbell’s mythological models of storytelling.

Star Wars became an immediate, global phenomenon in large part because it portrayed a cosmic struggle between good and evil that was vivid enough to resonate with the audience but general enough so that any person, from any religion or background, could identify with the heroes and root for their struggle against the villains. This universality was completely intentional; George Lucas, adhering to Joseph Campbell’s concept of the mono-myth, believed that all moral teaching share certain core messages about good and evil. Lucas envisioned Star Wars as a galactic version of this one mythic story that would crystalize the basic truths that he believed resided in the heart of every religion or philosophy. For Lucas this was the idea that we all face an internal struggle between kindness, selflessness, and compassion, on the one side, and greed, corruption, and cruelty, on the other.[1]

Campbell himself even cites Luke Skywalker specifically as a mythic hero that the audience is to learn with.[2] Campbell illustrates that aspect of humanity—the need for society to have rightness modeled for it, what that rightness looks like, and how good and evil interact with that rightness. In Star Wars, evil and good are elements brought upon by actors but evil does not exist within the Force itself. Nature does not have the capacity for evil. Nature just is. The Force is. But when individual actors or actors en masse begin to learn to manipulate nature—manipulate the Force, that power is capable of being abused. And out of that abuse, a perversion of the nature of The Force is born—an Evil that is not only physical, but structural, and spiritual. This perversion must be combatted. How best to combat it, not whether one can win against it, is the question posed in TLJ.

Star Wars presents a dilemma in how one associates themselves with power balances and the role of an individual within these power structures.

Darth Vader has not developed his own humanity. He’s a robot. He’s a bureaucrat, living not in terms of himself but in terms of an imposed system. This is the threat to our lives that we all face today. Is the system going to flatten you out and deny you your humanity, or are you going to be able to make use of the system to the attainment of human purposes? How do you relate to the system so that you are not compulsively serving it? It doesn’t help to try to change it to accord with your system of thought. The momentum of history behind it is too great for anything really significant to evolve from that kind of action. The thing to do is learn to live in your period of history as a human being. That’s something else, and it can be done.[3]

Considering this, Campbell comments on the accessibility of such a humanist philosophy and states that Star Wars asks the question, “…are you going to be a person of heart and humanity—because that’s where the life is, from the heart—or are you going to do whatever seems to be required of you by what might be called ‘intentional power’?”[4] In this question lies the heart of the nonviolent argument that Rose in TLJ articulates. She states plainly explaining the moral lesson of the film, “That’s how we win, not by fighting what we hate, saving what we love.”[5] Campbell argues further that this idea of the “heart” is what is effective at challenging the machinations of evil, or in the case of TLJ, an extrajudicial tyranny. That positive change starts from within oneself and only once one achieves this balance and contentment with humanity and its role in love against tyranny can evil be triumphed over and redemption had.[6]

Campbell is very clearly speaking in the vein of nonviolent resistance much in the same way that Gandhi purports that the means and ends are one—that in order to truly achieve peace through nonviolent means one must embody the principles they preach. “We but mirror the world. All the tendencies present in the outer world are to be found in the world of our body. If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him…We need not wait to see what others do.”[7] This concept of embodying change through a personal and in an inwardly-focused fashion is rife throughout TLJ. This message of inward change permeates throughout the franchise but reaches its most tumultuous as Luke Skywalker suffers a crisis of self when he turns from nonviolent means for a fleeting second as he stands over a sleeping Ben Solo with an ignited lightsaber assuming he can deny his nature and take a life in the interest of goodness. Luke had already learned the effectiveness of nonviolence from his encounter with The Emperor in his quest to change the Satyagraha—Gandhian “Soul Force”—of his father, Darth Vader. When Luke fails his own humanity, his own nature, and betraying his love, the galaxy is once again occupied by a systemic evil promulgated by a betrayed and confused power figure. While Luke fails in this respect, what he has passed on from his experiences with Vader, continue throughout the leadership of The Resistance in Leia.

It is important to note that The Resistance is not a state-sponsored entity but one that stands in protest to The New Republic’s appeasement of The First Order. The aptly named, Resistance’s primary focus in the films has been to flee as they work to destroy weapons of mass destruction. While not entirely nonviolent, these fighters do not entirely belong to the order of the Jedi and are thus not required to adhere to the tenets that Luke Skywalker purports. Which means there are elements of evil among them. Scholar Charles C. Camosy in, Chasing Kevin Smith: Was It Immoral for the Rebel Alliance to Destroy Death Star II, argues that it is a matter of motivation in determining whether taking lives in the interest of removing a WMD from the arena is moral. Essentially, the difference is that while Grand Moff Tarkin in A New Hope, and thus like the First Order in The Force Awakens, is pleased with the destruction of whole planets as a symbol of power with the intention to subdue whole populations to the will of The Emperor and the machine, the Rebellion akin to The Resistance are primarily concerned with the saving of lives and indeed mourn the mass death that came from the destruction of these weapons. In the opening sequence in TLJ, Poe takes out the deck cannons of the dreadnought and as soon as the evacuation is complete, Leia commands that he returns—intending only to secure the escape. A disarming tactic. Poe is to learn that engaging with violence beyond what is completely necessary is unjust. But doing violence even as a defensive countermeasure comes with it some intrinsic badness in that there is harm done. In this line of argument, Camosy is supporting the notion of Just War Theory. Yet, he does acknowledge the conflict inherent to Just War Theory in that there are no clear distinctions between good and evil on Earth as there are in Star Wars.[8]

From the opening scenes of A New Hope, the “culture” of Star Wars conditions us to root for the Rebels. Looking at the movies through this lens can blind us to the questionable decisions of those we are told are the “good guys.” The ability to challenge the dominant cultural lens through which most of us look at the world and ask critical questions of our own “side” is as rare today as it is important.[9]

And here viewers can see the crux of the argument in TLJ. The unnamed Benicio Del Toro character, “DJ,” very blatantly demonstrates to the protagonists Finn and Rose that The First Order does not have the monopoly on evil. Evil permeates society and even their own organization—the Resistance. Finn and Rose had just escaped from the casino city of Canto Bight that that was filled with arms dealers flaunting their spoils. Its not enough that they harm in business but even these arms dealers’ hobby involves enslaving children and harming animals.

After Rose communicates a personal connection to the harm that developing weapons can cause, she shows Finn the dangers of the military industrial complex—a true perversion of nature: metal twisted to destroy as quickly and efficiently as possible. As viewers are enraged with the idea of these developers testing weapons on the same people that built them, they are momentarily ripped from the idea of “good guys” and “bad guys” when DJ illustrates that The Resistance has been buying weapons from these same people, thus perpetuating the cycle of violence. “Good guys? Bad guys? Made up words…Finn, let me learn you something good, it’s all a machine partner, live free, don’t join.”[10] Barry Gan in Violence and Nonviolence takes an in-depth look at “The Myth of Good Guys and Bad Guys.”[11] He deconstructs the notions of the two types of individuals and illustrates that as one perpetuates this myth, they feed a beast that treats others as less than human and in turn justifies the maltreatment of individuals who are, more than likely, just like themselves. And in an interest of defending groups against a “bad guy” that does not actually exist in logic, “we become convinced that it is wiser to spend money on arms rather than education, on training people to destroy communities instead of build them.”[12] By choosing to juxtapose arms with education, Gan is demonstrating that society’s most powerful tool in the promulgation of nonviolent interests is education. This is something that the Jedi religion and indeed, Luke Skywalker’s crisis touches on extensively during the experiences he has in TLJ.

The morality and nature of myth explored throughout Star Wars is typically dichotomized between two entities in conflict with each other wherein either persuasion is plainly categorized as “good” or “bad.” The goodness and badness of entities and actors is more or less hand-fed to the viewer. It is clear who one is supposed to root for in the story. Yet, as the characters become more complex through their story arcs, so does the philosophy and differing opinions on the nature of the Force and its relationship with goodness and badness or good and evil. Indeed, they vary in opinion regarding the nature of good and evil itself. The Last Jedi attempts to bridge gaps in conflicting interpretations of the Force and brings with it the approaches to violence supported by two competing cosmological arguments—cosmotic and acosmotic.

These concepts lend themselves to the conversation regarding evil itself in such a way that is quintessential to Star Wars’ in-universe philosophies that support or denounce the use of violence. In “Balance through Struggle: Understanding the Novel Cosmology of the Force in The Last Jedi” Terrance MacMullan characterizes cosmotic beliefs as holding “that there is really only one true thing or order in the universe, that is morally good and that evil is just a corruption of this one true thing.” This is best demonstrated by the fact that while the Jedi submit to the will of the Force, the Sith harness The Dark Side. The Jedi do not submit to the will of the light side but just the nature of all that is The Force. The Dark Side is a delineation of the natural and thus requires a modifier. Never once has the term “the light side” been mentioned in the films. Service to the Force is understood by the old Jedi Order to perpetuate the continued dominance of good. This is opposite of the acosmotic.

Acosmotic beliefs consider good and evil both being natural phenomenon and while not necessarily diametrically opposed but exist in tandem as encouraged by Daoist beliefs surrounding the Yin and the Yang.[13] So what does this have to do with Star Wars? In the cosmotic interpretation of Luke’s new Jediism, the struggling Jedi Master is attempting to come to terms with the idea of balance between good and evil instead of inherent good. He is moving the conversation away from the inherent goodness of the Jedi and the inherent badness of the Sith and discussing a more nuanced balance of the Force. “…And this is the lesson. That Force does not belong to the Jedi. To say that if the Jedi die, the light dies, that’s vanity.”[14] Luke is demonstrating that as actors within a violent system, the promulgation of Star Wars’ equivalent of the Yin, as if the Jedi have agency over it, has resulted in their hubris and this their diminished ability to affect good on the galaxy. That in this, the Yang would also require agents. Supreme Leader Snoke mirrors this sentiment when he encouters Rey aboard his flagship, “Darkness rises and light to meet it.”[15] But the film does not end on this notion of balance; it takes a turn to a different lesson.

This film is not only Luke teaching Rey, it also has a component of him learning that he does indeed, as an actor in The Force, have the ability to affect change in a positive way. And he calls upon his past experiences to draw wisdom. Yoda, when Luke attempts to burn down the tradition of the Jedi, appears as a teacher, and in standard Yoda fashion, delivers yet again, a very powerful lesson—that he need not try to uphold the traditions that he believes damaged the galaxy but simply, “pass on what [he] has learned,” and strongly consider his failures.[16] As Luke reconnects himself with the Force it is possible that he looks back on his greatest successes—times when he was present, yet takes no violent action at all. For instance, when he destroys the first Death Star, he allowed the Force to do it for him. When he defeated The Emperor through Darth Vaders’ redemption, he did nothing but throw his weapon away. These occurrences demonstrate that the nature of the Force is interested in the vanquishing of evil and Luke’s greatest victories came when he released control of his weapons and turned his mind to the Force. But Yoda required he consider his greatest failures. Every time he failed, the Force seemed to very obviously return the harm back unto himself. When Luke turns to weapons and conflict as a means by which he could do good, such as confronting Vader in Cloud City and losing his hand, and when he takes up arms against Ben during his training and loses everything, The Force is telling him that courting violence comes with consequences. It is during these realizations in TLJ that Luke seemingly retracts from the acosmotic and embraces yet again the cosmotic with a newfound understanding of how effective his nonviolent actions can be. So Luke astral projects himself in front of the First Order army and performs the greatest feat ever displayed by a Jedi on screen. It is one of extreme nonviolence and in so doing humiliates those that would do harm and removes entirely the value the First Order places in violence and destruction. This story is the last thing that the next generation of freedom fighters tells—one of “peace and purpose.”[17]

As Rey says those final lines while she and Leia consider Luke’s broken weapon, Leia responds to Rey’s concern about how to move forward suggesting that with the weapon broken, “we have everything we need” thus mirroring Yoda’s warning to luke when he enters the dark side cave in Episode V when he tells him, “your weapons, you will not need them.”[18] While it may have taken 37 years for Luke, Leia, Rey, and the rest of Star Wars fandom to actually heed Yoda’s powerful words, it seems that the overwhelming message in Star Wars: The Last Jedi is that active political resistance through nonviolence and the destruction of weapons is the best way to resist tyranny and promote peace and justice throughout the galaxy. Indeed, that only the Force should be the deciding factor on whether a life is to be taken, or harm done. There is no telling whether this narrative will continue in December 2019, but it is sincerely the opinion of this author that this message needs to be carried through to its ultimate conclusion and that peace come not at the hands of destruction and death but by the promulgation and promotion of passive political resistance.

[1]Terrence MacMullan, “Balance through Struggle: Understanding the Novel Cosmology of the Force in The Last Jedi,” The Journal of Religion and Pop Culture 31, no 1, Spring 2019, 103.

[2] Joseph Cambell, The Power of Myth: With Bill Moyers, Apostrophe S Productions, 1988, 23.

[3] Ibid, 178.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Johnston, The Last Jedi, 2017.

[6] Ibid, 23.

[7] M.K. Gandhi, “General Knowledge About Health,” Indian Opinion 13, chapter 153, New Delhi, India, 1913, 241.

[8] Charles C. Camosy, “Chasing Kevin Smith: Was It Immoral for the Rebel Alliance to Destryo Death Star II,” in The Ultimate Star Wars and Philosophy: You Must Unlearn What You Have Learned” ed by Jason T. Eberl and Kevin S. Decker,” 2016, John Wiley and Sons, 67.

[9] Ibid

[10] Johnston, The Last Jedi, 2017.

[11] Barry Gan, Violence and Nonviolence: An Introduction, Rowman and Littlefield, Lanham MD, 2013, 25-38.

[12] Ibid, 37.

[13] Terrence Macmullan, “Balance through Struggle: Understanding the Novel Cosmology of the Force in The Last Jedi,” The Journal of Religion and Pop Culture 31, no 1, Spring 2019, 101-102

[14] Rian Johnston, Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Los Angeles, 20th Century Fox, 2017

[15] Ibid.

[16] Ibid.

[17] Ibid.

[18] Irvin Kershner, Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, 20th Century Fox, 1980.

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Star Trek Discovery Season 4: What to Expect

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Yes, we’re already looking forward to Star Trek: Discovery Season 4. Season 3 saw the show go where no Star Trek has gone before – literally. Flung almost a thousand years into the future after saving all sentient life as we know it, Michael Burnham and her crewmates had to navigate a new and alien reality that bore little resemblance to the one they left behind.

Yet, the decision to send Discovery to the future is possibly the best decision the series has ever made, giving the show a much-needed narrative reset that cut ties to things like Klingon wars and The Original Series legacy characters and sends it off to blaze its own path, unencumbered by the strings of existing canon. But now that Discovery is firmly established in the 32nd century, what can we expect from Star Trek: Discovery‘s upcoming Season 4? We have a few educated guesses…

Michael Burnham Finds Her Feet as Captain

Despite her colorful history as an officer – replete with mutiny, insubordination, and general recklessness – it’s been obvious for a long time that Michael Burnham was destined for the Discovery captain’s chair. The only question was a matter of when. But now that she’s there – what kind of captain will she be?

She could very easily turn out to be one of the Starfleet greats. Despite her flaws, Michael has proven time again that she is smart, capable, and brave. A risk-taker who always comes through in the clutch, she has saved her crew more times than most of us can count and she is a shining example of someone who absolutely believes in the mission of the Federation and the good it can do.

But she’s also often rash and impulsive, and just a few short episodes ago wasn’t even all that certain that she belonged in Starfleet anymore. Granted, many successful male Starfleet captains (cough cough James Kirk cough) are remembered as great precisely because they weren’t huge fans of following the rules, either, so there’s certainly precedent that generally refusing to play things safe is a workable leadership strategy.

Yet, Michael has always found her greatest success as a character when she has an authority figure or structure that is set in opposition to her, so it will be interesting to see how she evolves now that she is the authority she once pushed back against.

What’s Next for Saru?

At the conclusion of “That Hope Is You, Part 2,” Saru took a leave of absence from the Starfleet to go with the young Kelpian refugee Su’Kal back to their home planet of Kaminar. What’s next for him is unclear, but there’s no way Discovery’s planning on writing off this character completely – or losing the talents of actor Doug Jones.

So what’s next for Saru? If he does return to the Discovery, what role can he fulfill now that he’s no longer captain? Does his future lie in the Federation hierarchy somehow, possibly working for Admiral Vance or serving as some sort of ambassador to his people?

A third option could involve Saru taking on an entirely different kind of mission, one that looks a lot like fatherhood of a sort. Ever since his arrival in the 32nd century, Saru has longed to reconnect with his people. Perhaps showing young Su’Kal the stars he’s missed out on all his life is something that might allow him to do just that on a smaller, more intimate scale. (And indulge his dorky dad vibes at the same time.)

Gray Will Return Somehow

During Adira’s trip to the dilithium planet to ferry medicine to Saru and Culber, we learned that the holodeck program on the abandoned Kelpian ship could extrapolate Gray’s consciousness and give him a holographic form. This allowed him to be seen by the other Discovery crew members present, which means that the technology clearly exists which can bring Gray back to life again. Sort of, anyway.

Because, of course, Gray is technically dead and his consciousness only exists as part of the Tal symbiont inside of Adira, which raises many questions this subplot will eventually have to answer, including how much agency and sentience post-Burn holograms even have to begin with. (Eli the Federation lie detector hologram certainly seems independent enough.)

Culber has promised both Adira and Gray that he will find a way for him to be seen again. But what that will ultimately look like, we don’t yet know. There is precedent for the idea that one part of a Trill’s symbiont memories can live outside it, but does that mean Gray will become a hologram himself permanently? Or can his consciousness be housed in something that has a more physical form?

What’s Book’s Actual Job Now Anyway?

Now that Cleveland Book – and we’re still waiting for the story behind that name, btw – is officially a part of the Discovery crew, it’s time for the series to define his role in this universe beyond his relationship with Michael. Is he technically part of Starfleet now? Is he an officer on Discovery? Does Grudge get a tiny decorated insignia collar? (Please say yes!)

Much of Book’s role in Season 3 was to support Michael in one way or another, whether that meant to literally help introduce her to the new rules of the 32nd century or to provide emotional and tactical help when needed. And don’t get me wrong, Book and Michael have somehow managed to form one of the most functional, normal relationships in Star Trek history. They’re honestly great together. But David Ajala is a tremendously appealing actor and if he’s going to stick around – which I think we’re all in agreement he should – Book needs a meaningful story of his own.

Tilly’s Promotion

Following Michael’s promotion to the Captain’s chair, it certainly looks like Tilly is getting some sort of command-level promotion in Season 4.

Technically she was still an Ensign when serving as Saru’s Acting First Officer, and while she conducted herself admirably during, well, everything, if she’s going to be Michael’s legitimate First Officer – which that last scene would definitely seem to indicate – she deserves to at least become a lieutenant.

Stamets and Michael Will Have to Work Out Their Issues

One of the lingering unresolved plotlines from Season 3 is the massive rift that formed between Paul Stamets and Michael following her decision to physically jettison him from Discovery while it was under Osyraa’s control. To be fair, her choice was completely the correct one, as he was the only one capable of operating the spore drive, and removing him from the equation meant that the Emerald Chain couldn’t just jump back to the Verubin Nebula and all its dilithium.

But, Stamets basically took that decision to mean that Michael was fine with condemning his family to horrific radiation deaths, and that’s going to be a hard thing for him to get over. If you notice, he’s the only person who doesn’t exactly look thrilled at Captain Burnham’s promotion, and we don’t see the two interact again once the ship is reclaimed.

There’s also the question of the spore drive itself. Stamets has tied his own identity – and his worth as part of the Discovery team – pretty tightly to his ability to communicate with the Mycelial network. Now that Book can do the same thing, how will this change things for him?

We’ll Probably See More Episodic Storytelling

Solving the mystery of The Burn and battling the villainous Emerald Chain were both season-long arcs that helped establish Discovery’s place in the future, and allowed Discovery the show to set up the new rules and players of its universe. But now that both those tasks have been accomplished, don’t be surprised if we see a shift toward more episodic storytelling in Season 4.

After all, with a fresh new supply of dilithium to distribute and the entire future to explore, isn’t it time we spent some time seeing what the 32nd century looks like? Some of the most entertaining moments of this season came when Michael and the rest of the Discovery crew found themselves on new planets or adjusting to changed cultures (including their own). Since Discovery purposefully removed itself from all known Star Trek canon, isn’t it time the show got about really establishing some new ones? The revelation that Vulcan and Romulan reunification has indeed happened feels like it should be just the beginning of the surprises this universe has in store for us. What has happened to other species such as Klingons or the Borg? Wouldn’t it be fun to find out?

The Grudge Content We Deserve

One of the few things Discovery fans of all stripes can agree on: Grudge is amazing. And we deserve to see more of her. Whether that means all our initial speculation turns out to be true and she’s actually the secret god of a planet full of telepathic felines we’ve yet to visit or just that she gets her own bridge-safe cat basket so she can hang out with Book and Michael next season, just give the people what they want.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Can we at least find out how she and Book ended up together? Throw me a bone – or I guess a cat treat – here, show. (Truly, if we don’t at least get a Short Treks episode about Grudge what are we even doing here?)

The post Star Trek Discovery Season 4: What to Expect appeared first on Den of Geek.

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twentiethcenturymoviesandtv · 4 years

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Growing Pains: The Characters

No matter what medium, characters are an integral part of storytelling. Whether it’s a book, stage play, movie, or a television show, the audience will likely not stick with it if they should happen to think the Eight Deadly Words:

“I don’t care what happens to these people.”

While it’s important to develop good characters in every form of storytelling, it is perhaps the most crucial to get them right on television.

While a film can distract from it’s lackluster characters with interesting visuals, a fast-paced storyline, and some neat twists and setpieces, television rarely has that luxury. Produced with a smaller runtime, on a smaller budget, television episodes tend to be character-based. With the exception of anthologies, most television shows have a set number of cast members that the audience follows through multiple episodes. This means that the characters in shows must be versatile enough to be interesting in multiple stories, and multiple types of stories, and be able to grow and change at a slow, but steady, rate. As a result, writing for characters on television can be hard.

Even when the said characters are a family from a Domestic Sitcom.

Like I said, characters are a vital ingredient in television. They are the people that we come back to every week, and often, they are the reason we keep watching. The characters make or break a television show, and as such, it’s incredibly important to create a main cast that the audience enjoys spending time with.

Luckily, the way to do it isn’t as hard as it might seem.

I’ve mentioned before that the secret to creating main characters (especially for television) is to mix two components: relatability and entertainment.

As with all fiction, television is an exaggerated version of reality. Even the slice-of-life sitcom scenarios have to be a little bigger, a little more extreme than our normal lives in order to be entertainment. But the audience tends not to buy it unless there’s that dose of reality, that relatability within the stories and characters in that we can see ourselves reacting in similar ways, or recognize elements in our own lives. This is true of writing for plots, but it’s also true of writing for characters.

Which brings us to our question:

Are the Seavers good television protagonists?

What a great question, I’m so glad I asked! Let’s take a look.

The Seavers are, to some degree, a family that any of us might know, or in some ways, be. They fight, make up, grow and learn as much as any family does, and as such, the audience identifies with their dynamic. They react to events, not as a unit, but as individuals within a family unit, and their separate personalities and interactions with one another make for engaging stories and development.

But, like I said, they are individuals, not a unit, and we have to look at them as such, starting with the patriarch of the family: Jason Seaver.

Jason is a psychiatrist, a dad, and a Reasonable Authority Figure. While not infallible, Jason does whatever he can to be fair with his kids, and, being exposed to them often, combined with his practice gives him an edge on knowing how to get them to behave. He’s interested in knowing the roots of the behaviors, and tries very hard to understand his family. He’s more likely to concoct an ‘outside the box’ method to reign in his kids, but he’s always respectful of their feelings, and tries to bring the family together. He is the heart, ready to take charge when necessary.

Of course, being a ‘grown-up’ does not automatically make him a complete person. Jason also grows and learns throughout the series, and comes with struggles of his own. There are plenty of episodes where he deals with decisions like whether to go back to work, or stay at home to support his wife’s career, or is forced to contend with things like his mother’s second marriage. As such, he’s a relatable character, more than just ‘The Dad’, but a person in his own right. This element is shared by his wife, Maggie Seaver.

Maggie is a reporter, a mom, and, surprisingly, another Reasonable Authority Figure. Again, not infallible, but in a different way than her husband. Maggie is a little more prone to laughing at her family’s antics, and being a little more quick to jump to action than Jason’s “Wait for the teachable moment” strategies. She’s more of the disciplinarian between the two, a devoted career woman, and is on the more cautious side.

She has her share of problems too, such as dealing with an unexpected pregnancy, harassment in the workplace, and her father’s death. Again, she is more than ‘The Mom’, and continues to grow throughout the series. She’s a more rounded character, a person for the audience to relate to.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about the parents on the show is how they work together and interact. As it turns out, the show was originally going to be more focused on the parents, until Mike turned into the Breakout Character of the show. The ‘grown ups’ don’t always agree, and approach parenting in different ways, but they endeavor to work together as a team, with a genuine relationship. Sometimes they fight, but they are typically supportive of one another, and handle problems in a mature way that tends to more closely reflect real life rather than other ‘zany’ revenge or ‘lesson teaching’ plotlines of other Dom-Coms. They do genuinely want what’s best for their kids, and the audience gets to watch them watch their family grow up and expand in a way that’s resonant with how real parents deal with their own families.

As a result, Jason and Maggie work well as sitcom protagonists, being different enough from each other to spark conflict and struggle, but affectionate and loving enough to patch it up before it gets too ugly. Their relationship comes across as genuine, and they grow enough as individuals that it’s satisfying to watch them throughout all seven seasons of the show.

But, of course, there’s a lot more to the Seavers than the parents. Let’s talk about the kids.

We have to start with Mike.

The oldest kid and the Breakout Character (similar to Michael J. Fox’s character, Alex P. Keaton, on Family Ties, except a polar opposite personality), Mike Seaver is most parents’ mildly annoying nightmare. Not bad enough to be a ‘bad kid’, but nowheres near good, Mike was a middle-of-the-road teenager. He got into trouble, came home after curfew, lied, attempted to cheat, and was overall, kind of a self-centered brat early on, but he typically knew where to draw the line (see the drug episode, “Thank God it’s Friday”), and didn’t get away with the bad things that he did do.

As time went on, Mike grew up and out of a lot of his problematic behavior, becoming more responsible and mature. (Some of that was affected by actor Kirk Cameron’s conversion to Christianity during the show.) Even early on, there were signs that Mike not be so much of a troublemaker, where he did show a hidden heart of gold underneath the cocky, snarky exterior. Typically the funny-man of the kids, Mike was always ready with a quick-witted joke, (usually at someone else’s expense, especially his siblings) which made him a fan-favorite early on. The show is an excellent showcase of his development from problem-child to responsible adult, getting a job and moving out. But he wasn’t the only one of the kids to change.

Carol, second oldest, was the brain of the family, and she knew it. Bright, studious, hardworking, and just as much a Deadpan Snarker as Mike, Carol was typically the Only Sane Man of the kids, the most likely to realize when something was a bad idea. Occasionally suffering from self-esteem problems (being ‘nerdy’ in the 1980s was akin to having the Black Plague, according to teen media), Carol was more cautiously adventurous than her brothers, wanting to see the world and learn as much as she could.

She too grew up. Throughout the series, Carol learned that academics wasn’t everything, and grew into a more rounded individual, taking risks, exploring, and becoming a responsible adult, changing through experiences both good and bad. Occasionally self-righteous, sensitive, and intelligent, Carol was a fine, and relatively realistic example of the high-school smart-kid in the real world.

That leaves only Ben, the youngest.

From a young age, Ben was rowdy, rambunctious, rascally, and (I’m almost out of R words, help) a royal pain to his siblings. Initially rather gullible and apparently insistent on taking lessons the wrong way, the trouble Ben got into in the beginning was mostly due to the fact that he was just naive (Inviting a homeless kid in for Christmas Eve, calling a porn hotline repeatedly, etc.), but as time went on, Ben became more of a problem than Mike had been, getting himself into bigger trouble. As the youngest and the most perpetually childish, more and more lessons were milked out of Ben than any of the other siblings, and as such, he had to screw up more than they did.

He got more than his share of focus episodes too. Episodes like “Birth of a Seaver” included large subplots where Ben had his own big moments, dealing with the death of a stranger, and then the new life of a family member, in a rather interesting way. Other episodes focused more on his learning hard truths, such as the unfortunately accurate Aesop: Sometimes, cheaters prosper, but honesty is better for the long run.

It’s difficult to say that the kids ‘got along’, because for the most part, they didn’t. They fought, squabbled, tattled, and got each other into trouble quite often. By the same token, they also knew when to help each other.

Like I said earlier, the one thing you can say about the Seavers is that they felt absolutely genuine. They deconstructed character types and sitcom plots regularly, and the family’s interactions felt real. They weren’t totally saccharine, and they weren’t unbelievably nasty to one another either. They were different from one another, (different enough to get different stories out of them for seven years) but came together when they needed it. At the end of the day, despite the personality conflicts, disobedient kids, and unfortunate events, the Seavers loved each other, and felt like a family.

And that’s what made the show really work.

The characters had to grow and change, albeit slowly, because that’s how life works. Growing Pains was a sitcom depicting exaggerated family life, and as such, the characters had to be memorable, as well as learn and grow. By the end of the show, these are not the same people that we started out with. Out of necessity, they had to grow up. And that’s a good thing.

Thanks to the familiar format and personalities, the audience enjoyed tuning in every week to watch and laugh along with a family that we related to, that we understood. Almost everyone can find at least a part of themselves in at least one character, and we recognize the interactions in our own lives and families.

In the end, the Seavers are good sitcom protagonists, because they hit that combination of entertainment and relatability nearly perfectly, with just the right consistency to tell stories full of heart, comedy, and tragedy, and to make it work for seven years. They felt real, and after all, that’s the point of good characters.

Thank you guys so much for reading! Join us next time as we discuss Growing Pains and the culture. If you have anything you’d like to say, don’t forget to leave an ask! I hope to see you all in the next article.

#Television #TV #TV-G #Growing Pains #80s #Comedy #Family #Alan Thicke #Joanna Kerns #Kirk Cameron #Tracey Gold #Jeremy Miller

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anotheruserwithnoname · 4 years

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(Belated) thoughts on Picard S1

Due to a mixture of (pre-lockdown) travel and other things, I didn’t get a chance to finish watching the second half of Star Trek Picard Season 1 till this weekend. I have some thoughts, but I’ll put a break here first as I’ll be doing spoilers.

In brief, though: for the most part I liked it and I don’t get a lot of the hate being thrown its way.

Looking at online reviews of Star Trek Picard, both by professionals and amateur YouTubers, you’d think it was the biggest abomination since Enterprise. I mean, I’ve seen hate thrown its way that even exceeds that directed toward Star Trek: Discovery.

I’m not going to turn this into a commentary on Discovery. I’ll just say that I agree with 99% of the criticisms about it and I have no plans on watching Season 3, nor do I intend to watch any of the Short Treks moving forward after being turned off permanently by the awful The Trouble with Edward.

Picard, however, renewed my faith that it’s still possible for good Trek to be made for TV.

Picard is being criticized for a number of things, like violating canon. Yet I didn’t see it. First, the show is the first Trek series set in “the future” of the Trek franchise since Nemesis back in 2002. So anything it establishes about Starfleet, Picard himself, and the fates of characters like Riker and Troi - there is no canon to violate because we’re moving forward. There is nothing in Picard that is of the same magnitude of, say, what recently happened with Doctor Who. We didn’t have them rewrite established history by suddenly finding out Jean-Luc was a Romulan spy, or that he wasn’t really the captain of the Enterprise, or anything to cause decades of storytelling to collapse into irrelevance or be contradicted. Nearly everything I saw was consistent with what I knew and remembered from TNG. They didn’t even try to retcon the appearance of the 1701-D like Discovery did to the original Enterprise.

That’s not to say everything that was done to the characters post-Nemesis was great. I didn’t care or how Seven of Nine was treated, and they did a few things with her that I think were in the “because we can, not because we should” category. So criticism is warranted there. I also felt a few characters were underserved - including Narissa, who is (or was, RIP) arguably the show’s best character next to Picard. She was a classic Trek villain - yet towards the end we started to wonder if she actually WAS a villain, or basically the Romulan equivalent of Jack Bauer from 24. She commits acts of outright savagery to pursue her ends, definitely - but the same can be said of other “ends justify the means” heroes and anti-heroes. I would have liked to have seen her developed more. (Mind you, the way she is killed off by Seven does leave an opening for a return - that was a long way down, with plenty of time to pull some macguffin out of her hat.)

Probably the main thing that I liked about this show is I cared about the characters. I can even remember their names - something Discovery failed to impress upon me. Rios and his crew of holograms were great and in Season 2 I hope they do another meeting sequence where they all interact with each other. Yes, I know Orphan Black did it first and probably did it better - but it ain’t Star Trek.

One of the biggest criticisms others levy on Picard is that Picard was a supporting character in his own show. First, that’s nonsense. Second, Picard is supposed to be a dying man throughout and in his 90s to boot. This is why I think the idea of bringing Shatner back as Kirk isn’t going to work because he won’t be running around with phasers blasting either! Stewart is not the same man he was when he made Nemesis - and they don’t make the mistake of trying to pretend otherwise. Even at the end where they basically make him a nuBSG-style Cylon to keep him alive, they didn’t turn around and make him 50 years old again. If Trek wasn’t a TV show, sure they probably would have, but the reality is the actor turns 80 this summer, and who knows when Season 2 will be filmed.

The big condemnation is about how Starfleet went dark post-Nemesis. People seem to think that Starfleet is always about goodness and light. They forget about the high command plotting the assassination of the Federation president in Star Trek VI. They forget about the black ops division Section 31 established in DS9 - or some of the things Sisko does during the Dominion War. Apparently, one of Picard’s showrunners says the original plan was to make it clear the “darkening” was part of the aftermath of the Dominion War, but this was cut. Yet they don’t need any excuse - the show clearly establishes that Romulans infiltrated the highest levels of Starfleet Command (if you think that can’t happen, go watch the final few episodes of TNG Season 1 when it happens) and were responsible for the Mars attack that set everything in motion.

And the show clearly establishes that there are till bastions of “goodness and light” in Starfleet - starting with Picard himself. And the season ends with the synthetic lifeform ban removed, signifying that Starfleet is returning to its old standards. It works. There were also people concerned that Picard was going to somehow tie-in with Discovery (due apparently to some of the cast members of both shows posing for photos together). Other than a few small references to things established on Discovery, Picard doesn’t go there.

Is Picard perfect? Hell no. Although I appreciated the “slow burn” style of storytelling, which has been adopted by a lot of other shows, it is a tough fit for Star Trek. But I didn’t mind because it was interesting. But I can see others’ points when they say the first few episodes drag a bit.

The show also suffers from the usual “continuity lockout” facing any newcomer to Trek. In this case, you need to know a fair amount about Seven of Nine’s story arc from Voyager, the Hugh story arc from the later seasons of TNG, the movie Star Trek: Nemesis, and have a working knowledge of the Picard-Data relationship from TNG. It also doesn’t hurt to know that Bruce Maddox appeared in one of the key “Data is a person” episodes of TNG as well. Unfortunately, knowing TNG may also result in one of the few major continuity issues of Picard, and that’s the fact Data already had a daughter, Lal, in “The Offspring”. The fact she’s never referenced is puzzling.

Other issue I had: I am not a fan of the use of F-bombs in Star Trek. While I concede they were better handled than the juvenile “because we can” attitude of Discovery, it added nothing other than to justify the TV-MA rating (without the F-bombs the show - eye-gouging included - would have fit under TV-14), which some has interpreted as an intentional attempt at alienating younger viewers (Torchwood ran into the same criticism). I already touched on the mishandling of Seven of Nine (which added in some unnecessary storytelling cliches, especially at the end), and I thought Narek could have been better handled - he vanishes without explanation in the finale and no one seems to care.

They also missed a few bets. I would have loved for the mysterious tech-alien species to have had some connection to Vger from Star Trek the Motion Picture (it makes more sense than Vger being found by the Borg, which is a longstanding theory). And while it was just a destination in the show, and never seen, rather than invoking the name of Deep Space 12, would it have killed them to say Deep Space 9? There was already a visual reference to Quark in one of the episodes, but mentioning DS9 by name, along with Seven’s presence, would have allowed Picard to have connected the three “future” Trek spinoffs.

But I enjoyed Picard, and if they still make DVDs after all the madness currently in the world, I look forward to buying the complete series when it comes out, and I hope they make a second season (it’s been renewed, but these days there is no guarantee when or if renewed shows will resume production and too long a delay risks 80+-year-old Patrick Stewart not being up to it). All in all, quite pleased, yet still puzzled at why so many people hate it. But then I know there are people who cannot understand why I cannot abide by certain shows, so I guess it evens up.

#star trek picard #picard commentary

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thedeaditeslayer · 4 years

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INTERVIEW: The creative team behind DEATH TO THE ARMY OF DARKNESS chats about making multiple Ashes.

Ash Williams is a larger-than-life character, but is the world ready for more than one of him? Readers are going to find out in Death to the Army of Darkness #1 from Dynamite Comics. Taking place just after the Army of Darkness movie, a bad translation of the Necronomicon is at the heart of the problem, leading to versions of Ash such as the female Ashley Williams, the erratic Lil’ Ash, Dash aka Doggie Ash, Skeleton Ash, and Chainy, Ash’s now sentient chainsaw.

At the helm are writer Ryan Parrott (Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, Batman: Gates of Gotham) and artist Jacob Edgar (Savage Tales: Red Sonja), with colorist Kike J. Diaz (Sherlock Frankenstein, Ether) and letterer Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou (Red Sonja, Peter Cannon: Thunderbolt) completing the creative team.

The Beat chatted with Parrott and Edgar about the upcoming comedy-horror book.

Deanna Destito: What inspired the premise of this new series?

Ryan Parrott: My editor, Nathan Cosby, actually called me up one day. He’d read some of my work on Power Rangers and was tossing around the idea of doing a “Team Ash” book. Ash is such an iconic character and I loved the idea of trying to surround him with his own team of misfits. At first, we talked about it being Ashes from other realities, but we realized there was already a precedent set for clones and dopplegangers with “Evil Ash” from “Army of Darkness.” And character-wise, we started to really gravitate toward forcing Ash to come face-to-face with different parts of his own personality and it slowly started turning into a story about responsibility and what it means to be “The Chosen One.”

Destito: How big of an Army of Darkness fan are you?

Parrott: Have I read Bruce Campbell’s autobiography If Chins Could Kill? Yes, I have. Have I been playing exclusively with “Ash” for over a year on the horror game, Dead By Daylight? Yes, I have. I actually saw the trilogy backwards in college because of a friend and, I will argue that to this day, there is no better horror hero than “Ash.” Being able to put words in his mouth and add a brick to the legacy wall of a character I love is an insane pleasure.

Jacob Edgar: I came to it late. Right when I took on this project, if I’m being honest. I’ve been familiar with the franchise for a long time, I had seen a lot of Bruce Campbell’s other work (can we do a Brisco County Jr comic next??) but not Evil Dead and Army of Darkness. So immediately after signing on I got to dive in and binge the movies, the Starz show…it’s been a blast. I don’t have the history with it that Ryan does, but I loved it immediately.

Destito: Where does this fall in the mythology and can new fans jump in easily?

Parrott: My approach to nearly every comic series is to try and make it accessible to both hardcore and casual fans alike. And since you can’t guarantee everyone has seen every movie or read every comic series beforehand, I built this story so a person could pick up the first issue only knowing that Ash was the hero of Army of Darkness. Now, since I’m also a fan, there are definitely elements and Easter Eggs for people who are paying attention… but this one is its own story that simply takes place in the world of Army of Darkness.

Destito: Do you find it easier or harder to illustrate something so well known and played by such a distinct, animated actor like Bruce Campbell?

Edgar: I think it’s easier in a lot of ways. Ash as a character is already built for me, that work is done. I know what he wears, I know what he drives, I know what kind of guy he is which informs set design and character acting. I love Bruce Campbell, and I love how expressive Ash is. That’s definitely something I’m trying to translate into our book.

Destito: What was your process for designing each Ash?

Edgar: For Ash himself, I wasn’t ever interested in trying to make a realistic depiction of Bruce Campbell. I don’t think my style lends to that, but also…you really have to nail that EVERY panel, or the panels that are off are going to take the reader out of it. The other thing I wanted to be conscious of was not exaggerating his chin too much, or his build. I think that’s a pitfall sometimes. Ash is fairly fit, but he’s not Batman.

When it came to Ashley, I really wanted her to have a unique look of her own. Reminiscent of Ash, but with some twists. And those twists were never going to be cleavage and booty shorts, which is another pitfall for something like this. Ashley is probably the most tactical and dangerous of the bunch, that’s what needed to come across.

The others are pretty straightforward. Dash is a Boxer dog and we gave him a blue bandana to echo Ash’s shirts. Bones is based on that famous Evil Dead 2 poster, the skeleton with eyes. But I’m getting to add costuming to him in issue #2, which is making him much more fun (and easier to draw!). Then we’ve got Lil Ash who is an exaggerated and extra crazy version of the Ash gremlins from Army of Darkness. I hope readers will love all these weirdos as much as we do.

Destito: How has it been working with the creative team to bring the series to life?

Edgar: This has been especially fun for me because it’s my first time doing multiple issues of something. Ryan’s scripts are a blast to draw and Kike is going to be a superstar colorist, I love the energy he’s bringing. Hassan is one of the best letterers around and I just hope I don’t make his job harder than it has to be. Nate’s been my editor since 2017 and he always gets the best out of everyone, we’re in great hands.

Destito: Of the Ashes, which clone is your favorite?

Parrott: Oh man. I have to tell you which one of my kids is the favorite? This won’t come back to bite me. Oddly enough, it has kinda depended on which issue I’m writing. In the second issue, it was Ashley, Ash’s feminine side because I loved that she wasn’t afraid to call Ash on his tricks. In the third issue, it was Dash, the dog version of Ash, because he started to become the leader, but in the fourth, it became Bones, the walking Skeleton version of Ash, because I started to realize just how in over his head he felt, and that was fun to write. Maybe that’s me dodging your question… but I like the voices of all the characters, it feels almost unfair to choose.

Edgar: At first I was telling everyone Dash, the dog. Because dogs are always best. But I’m really starting to love Bones, the cowardly skeleton. His character is so different from everyone and everything else, he’s really fun to play with.

Destito: What can fans expect in future issues?

Parrott: I think if you love Army of Darkness as much as I do, well… I tried to put in all the hallmarks of the series: Action, adventure, horror and humor. We’ll have Deadite possessions and chainsaw decapitations, and it wouldn’t be complete without a little time travel. For hardcore fans, we’ll get into some of the reasons behind the creation of the Necronomicon Ex Mortis and even the philosophy behind the Deadites themselves. Hopefully, if people like it… this will be the first step into some epic mythological Army of Darkness storytelling, because… we have plans… but if not, I hope people will be happy with a lot of blood, guts and boomsticks.

Death to the Army of Darkness #1 can be preordered at your local comic shop this month. The issue hits shelves in February. For digital, head over to Comixology, Kindle, iBooks, Google Play, Dynamite Digital, ComicsPlus, and more.

#Army of Darkness #Dynamite Entertainment #Dynamite Comics #comic #comics

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starlightinkwell · 4 years

Video

youtube

Fred Astaire's 121st birthday was this past Sunday, 10 May 2020. Astaire died 43 days after his 88th birthday on 22 June 1987. So much ink has been dedicated to Astaire's dapper elegance, his style, but this quote from Astaire says far more about his quest as an artist:

“This search for what you want is like tracking something that doesn’t want to be tracked. It takes time to get a dance right, to create something memorable.”

Thinking critically about Astaire, he has become somewhat a victim of the very style for which he is so admired. He came to fame during a time when want and hunger created a longing in the public to escape into some fantasy world that was completely set apart from the realities of the Great Depression, where characters wanted for nothing more than a calm sea, a polished dance floor, a witty rejoinder, and a well-turned out romantic interest. One could make an argument that he has, to some extent, become entangled and trapped by his top hat, white tie, and tails. A contemporary coming across the bulk of work for which he is remembered could easily find it "of a time": dated, charming, quaint, often cute, always dazzling, but somewhat irrelevant.

Although Astaire did create the choreography for his dances with his sister Adele, and is said to have done most of the choreography for his own dances, he did always work with a choreographer, most notably with Hermes Pan. Perhaps he felt he needed the input of someone else in his pursuit of what was so elusive.

His early success as a dancer did not rely on storytelling; it was all tap and ballroom, joy, grace, and elegance. The characters he played in his films from the 1930s had snark and style, but the biggest challenge they faced was really never anything more than trying to get the girl.

Astaire was an innovator as a dancer, but even in his Broadway career with Adele, the two "performed dances". But the dances were not created to reveal character or further the story. During the entire first half of Astaire's life, storytelling in dance had been the purview of classical ballet, and Astaire never trained as a classical dancer. He and Adele had spent their childhoods saving their family by performing as an act in Vaudeville; fanciful things such as ballet training was simply out of the question.

It is has been written that Astaire had wanted to dance to the song, Limehouse Blues, since it was first presented in the 1921 West End production, A to Z, in London. What his thoughts were about creating such a dance seem to be unknown, but it was not until 1943 when he became sole choreographer for the film, The Sky's the Limit, for which he created the dark and troubled "One for My Baby", that he began a deeper exploration into storytelling and character revelation through dance. One can only speculate that Astaire might have seen a young Gene Kelly's Broadway performance as Harry the Hoofer in Wm Saroyan's Pulitzer Prize and NY Drama Critics Circle Award winning, The Time of Your Life in 1939, How that might have influenced Astaire is a curiosity worth pondering. Kelly created something of a revolution by "dancing the character of Harry" instead of just being a guy in the bar who danced.

Astaire finally got his chance with Limehouse Blues in the 1946 film, Ziegfeld Follies. He dances the tragic character of a Chinese peasant, a "coolie" trying to obtain a fan to give to a glamorous woman, danced by Lucille Bremer, with whom he has fallen in love. But by this time, Gene Kelly had burst upon the world playing the amoral Pal Joey on Broadway, created the alter ego dance in Cover Girl, danced with Jerry the Mouse in Anchors Aweigh, and also received a Best Actor nomination for the character he played in that film. This explosively charismatic young dancer/choreographer from Pittsburgh who had become a Hollywood sensation could not have failed to have a big impact on an artist of Astaire's sensibilities and talent.

As Astaire was well into his 40s and fearing his career was in the descent, he announced his retirement in 1946 while filming Blue Skies. But it was a very short-lived one because he received a call from Gene Kelly in 1947 asking Astaire to please reconsider retirement. Kelly had broken his ankle while he was in pre-production for the film he was working on with Judy Garland, Easter Parade. It took some convincing by Kelly, but Astaire finally agreed to step into the part. The film was one of the biggest hits of 1948, and Astaire's career was off and running again.

In 1954, his adored wife, Phyllis, died suddenly at the age of 48 of lung cancer. Astaire, who was working at the time on the film, Daddy Long Legs, felt as if his life was over. He asked for the production to be shut down and offered to pay the studio out of his own pocket for its lost production costs. But Johnny Mercer and several others, including Gene Kelly, who himself had despaired his career was over when he broke his ankle and had to back out of Easter Parade and who had received great support, reassurance, and encouragement from Astaire, came to Fred and convinced him once again to not withdraw from the thing that was his life--dance. Astaire finished Daddy Long Legs, made Funny Face and Silk Stockings (both of which did not do well at the box office because musicals were declining in popularity at the time), then went on to great acclaim with his television specials with Barrie Chase, and won a Best Actor Emmy in 1978 for his performance with Helen Hayes in A Family Upside Down, a drama about an aging couple dealing with failing health.

The last time Astaire danced on screen was for a 1979 episode in the TV series, Battlestar Galactica. Astaire had asked his agent to get him a role on the series because it was a favorite of his grandchildren's. His last film role, along with Melvyn Douglas and Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., was in the 1981 adaptation of Peter Straub's horror novel, Ghost Story.

Astaire's impact on dance cannot be overstated. His sense of rhythm is legendary, as are his elegance and grace. His place in history is assured. But if what contemporary dancers find inspires them to become dancers, it would seem that they find timeless relevancy in the work of Gene Kelly. In Astaire they find excellence, but a style that now feels somewhat locked in time.

What do you think? Let the arguing and debating begin.

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xwaywardhuntress · 5 years

Text

You’re Not From This World (Part Four)

Summary: Imagine the boys get sent to an alternate reality again without you, which leaves you stuck with the Winchester look-alikes, Jensen Ackles, and Jared Padalecki.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader, Jensen Ackles x alternate world!reader (Catherine, Cat)

Warnings: Jealousy, Awkwardness

Words: 2200+

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. This is fanfiction only. Please do not redistribute my writings on other sites, horrible or not. Thanks!

One, Two, Three

Both Jensen and Jared shot up from their beds as the witch events consumed their dreams. Leaving their separated rooms, they found themselves in rooms across from one another.

“Jens, did we-“ Jared started

“Yeah, that happened.” Jensen finished Jared’s thoughts. “I wonder if Y/N and the others are okay.”

As if on cue, both of the boys heard a conversation from afar with multiple voices involved. They followed the sound. As they got closer, they were able to recognize all the voices in the conversation. The Winchesters. Y/N. Castiel.

“So he was trapped?” Jensen and Jared heard Y/N ask as they entered the war table room. Y/N had been sitting down in one of the chairs next to Sam, while Dean stood behind her chair. On the opposite side of the table was Cas.

“Yes, that is what he said to me.” The angel responded before noticing Jensen and Jared enter the room, causing everyone else to turn their attention in the same direction.

“You guys are awake!” You exclaimed as you stood up from your chair to stand between the Winchesters and their alternate versions. You glanced at your watch, which read about 6:00am. “I’m surprised you both are up, we were actually all about to hit the hay soon. It’s been a long day…and night. How are you guys feeling?”

“I feel completely fine, oddly enough.” Jared questioned as he thought back to all the times he had been thrown against a wall recently.

You chuckled, “Yeah, we had Cas heal you both before we moved you onto beds.”

“Cas really does seem to have that special touch.” The taller actor wiggled his eyebrows at Jensen.

Jensen narrowed his eyes at his friend, aware of what the other actor was hinting at. One fan word: Destiel. Y/N and Castiel didn’t seem to understand, but Dean caught on as he rolled his eyes.

Sam got up from his chair to stand beside Dean and in front of Jensen and Jared.

The brothers looked from head to toe at the actors and vice versa. Both sides thinking to themselves, ‘so these are those other guys’

You couldn’t help but look between the two groups of boys. There were some similarities but Jensen and Jared definitely looked more refresh than Dean and Sam. “Soooo…” You began. “I don’t think I need to introduce you guys?” You squinted an eye and bit your bottom lip, not sure what to say exactly.

“No, they both had the weird names. This one we kind of met under the table already and that one is Polish.” Dean spoke first as he nodded his head towards each actor as he spoke.

Both Jared and Sam narrowed their eyes at Dean’s comment.

Jensen hadn’t exactly ignored Dean, but since he entered the room, a part of him wanted to make sure you were okay too. You looked okay physically but verbal confirmation is what Jensen sought out. He turned his attention to you. “Are you okay?”

Before you could answer, Dean stepped forward answering for you. “She’s fine.”

You smiled awkwardly at Jensen, knowing Dean had gone straight into protection mode due to slight jealousy and there was really no stopping it.

Jensen knew to back off a little as he recognized Dean’s jealousy. After all, that’s how he would’ve acted as Dean if someone like himself appeared before them. “I’m glad to hear that.” Was all that Jensen said.

There was definitely some tension and awkwardness felt within the room by all. You decided to end it as best as you could.

Sliding your hand into Dean’s, you tugged him to follow you, “Alright, how about we continue this great conversation after everyone has had a chance to sleep and rest?”

“I do not need sleep.” Cas chimed in.

You sighed, turning your head in the direction of the angel. “We know, Cas.”

Jared raised his hand in the air like a kid, “I actually have a quick question.” Everyone turned to the tall actor as he continued, “What happened to the witch possessed by the angel?”

The brothers and angel all looked at each other, while you were slowly pulling Dean in the same direction as your shared bedroom. You also had an answer ready for Jared. “Very long story. One that we can go over with you and Jensen tomorrow…err later.” You smiled at him.

Sam yawned, “Y/N is right. It’s been a long night and we haven’t slept at all. Also, our guest needs to recover too before we can even ask him questions.”

Jensen and Jared look confused at Sam’s last comment.

“Again, part of the very long story. We’ll explain tomorrow. You guys can use the same beds in the rooms you came from.” You shared catching the looks they gave each other. “Well, goodnight…err morning. You guys know what I mean.” You said as you dragged Dean with you. He hadn’t said anything, just followed your lead. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he was exhausted.

Sam smiled at Jensen and Jared before heading to his room too.

Jensen and Jared looked at each other, then looked at Cas. They weren’t sure if they could go back to sleep with all the questions they had.

“You think maybe you could help with the sleep part for us?” Jensen couldn’t help but ask. Jared nodded his head in agreement.

The angel sighed as he quickly appeared before them and placed his fingers on their foreheads. He sent them back to the beds where they came from, knocking them out to sleep. Once that was done, Cas left to the room where the guest currently resided in a corner of the room.

---

It was around late afternoon when everyone slowly began waking up and leaving their rooms. Jensen and Jared were the last to get up again. And again they overheard multiple voices down the hallway. Entering the war room table, it was almost similar to how they found everyone last night. Y/N and Sam were seated, while Dean and Cas were standing. The one obvious difference was a man standing beside Cas that Jensen and Jared had never seen before.

The newcomer had a lanky look to him as he fiddled with a pocket watch in his hands. He saw Jensen and Jared and greeted them. “G-good afternoon.”

You tilted your head upwards as if it would allow you to see the Winchester’s doubles. Instead, you ended up looking up at Dean, who had his eyebrows raised but then gestured behind him.

That’s when you turned your body to face behind you as much as you could. “Good afternoon!” You greeted them with a smile. “I know it’s already later in the day, but we brewed some coffee anyways. Have at it and then take a seat.”

Jensen and Jared looked at each other before shrugging as they walked over to the coffee brewer atop one of the counters in the room. There were two empty mugs left and it was easy to assume that Y/N had left it there for them. Pouring themselves some coffee, they eventually joined Y/N and Sam seated at the table.

“So what did we miss? And who is that guy?” Jared jumped straight into asking questions as he took a sip of his coffee.

You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself. “I guess we should start over from the beginning.”

Dean groaned behind you. “I need more coffee.” He shared as he left to go pour himself another cup, only to find the pot empty. “Scratch that, I’ll go get more coffee to brew.” And then he left towards the kitchen.

You looked over at Sam, seeing if he wanted to share what they had found out so far.

Sam just smiled at you, gesturing for you to do the talking.

The stranger in question took it upon himself to speak first, “I-I am Remph, an angel of the lord.”

Everyone looked at the new angel.

You decided to add on to his introduction, “Right. He also goes by Kafziel, but prefers Remph. He’s a really old angel, according to him and Cas. He’s been around for a looooong time.”

“A-as old as God.” Remph commented.

“Uh-huh. He’s also the angel of time. Remy Kyteler, the witch that Jared shot at...” You looked over at the tall actor smiling, showing that you were pretty proud of his actions at the time.

Jensen interrupted. “Where did you even get the gun, man?”

Jared looked over at his friend answering, “On set, we have a prop gun attached near the leg of the big table. It was for fun and jokes with some of the crew, so when I actually found a real one there, I took it and...well used it. The situation seemed to call for it.” The tall actor shrugged.

You took back control of the conversation. “It was actually not bad timing though. Anyways, Remy was a really weak witch. According to her family’s past, she’s a descendant from the Kilkenney witch line. One of her ancestors, Alice Kyteler, was the first recorded witch to be condemned in Ireland. Her ancestor fled the country before they could burn her and…well...her servants paid her price instead. You could say that after Alice, her family became more supporters of other witches/monster/angels. Remy wanted power and became aware of Remph because apparently Remph and her mother had a thing since her mother was a supporter of his. Hence her name Remy.”

Jensen and Jared looked over at Remph, then at each other. Y/N could see the light bulbs turning on in their heads as if they were putting two and two together. It was the same thing the rest of them had thought initially but were told wrong.

“R-remy is not mine.” The angel of time clarified.

Castiel spoke as well, “She isn’t a nephilim.”

You continued, “Anyways, Remy did something to trap Remph and that’s the part we left off on before you two showed up.”

Dean had walked back into the room during the storytelling, this time with a beer in his hand and the empty coffee pot not with him anymore, taking his place behind your chair again. He obviously needed something stronger to get himself through this situation with him and his brother’s alternate counterparts present.

“Oh cool! I don’t think we have anything written yet about meeting a time angel.” Jared shared his excitement.

You smiled, amused at how interested Jared seemed to be with the Supernatural world, despite his most recent run in with a witch who was definitely aiming to kill him not that long ago.

“So he’s like a Doctor Strange. He can mess with time, right?” Jensen asked also sharing a bit of interest in this new angel.

“That’s right. How about we give the floor back to ‘Doctor Strange’ now?” Dean interrupted as he set his empty beer bottle by Y/N’s mug. The older Winchester just wanted to know one thing: if the angel could send his counterpart and Sam’s back to where they came from. However, he knew before he could get to that point, Sam and Y/N would want to know how the whole witch and angel possession occurred. So he continued speaking crossing his arms, “Since we’re all caught up, how did you get trapped by the witch if the witch wasn’t even powerful?”

“S-She had a powerful Scottish witch help her.” Remph replied.

Dean, Sam, Castiel, and Y/N all looked at each other. There was only one Scottish witch they knew of that was pretty powerful.

“Let me take a wild guess. Red hair? Carries a big book around? Accent?” Dean asked already expecting the answer they were all thinking.

“Y-yes.” The angel of time replied.

“Of course! See Sam, this is why we need to get that damn book back from her.” Dean expressed his annoyance.

“Rowena?” Jared asked Jensen as Dean and Sam bickered for a moment.

“Yeah, can only be her.” Jensen answered his friend.

You had your arms crossed now, “Wait a minute. How did you not die when I stuck the angel blade in if you were in the witch’s body?”

Everyone’s attention turned to the angel of time. Remph grinned, “T-those angel blades do not affect me.”

“We probably need an archangel blade to kill you.” Dean suggested.

The angel of time just smiled, not exactly confirming nor denying that statement.

“So how exactly did Rowena help Remy to trap you?” Sam asked.

“S-she used a spell that is similar to when an angel takes over a human body, except I had already been in this body, so it took a bit of tweaking as the red witch didn’t have a casting spell to take me out of this body at the time. R-remy was given full control, but even so, could only use a small percentage of my power. T-the power to age humans and the power to send them to another reality. I-I don’t think she knew that she only switched them out with their counterpart from the other reality.” He looked between the Winchesters and Jensen and Jared. “I-i suppose two out of the four of you belong to another reality?”

Everyone nodded their head.

“I-I will fix that.” And then the angel of time snapped his finger before anyone else could comment. The room of seven turned into a room of five in a blink of an eye.

Unfortunately, you noticed right away that there was still a problem.

You placed your elbow on top of the table as you rubbed your hand along your face. Your hand eventually stopped on your forehead. Looking down, you called out, “Jensen? Jared?”

“Yes?” They both answered.

Looking up at the two actors, you took a deep breath in and out. “Son of a –“

BAM!

Next: Part Five

Author’s Note: This part changed A LOT since part three was posted. It was technically supposed to be the last part with what I had originally written, but we’re going to continue on! Stay tuned for part five!

Feedback is welcome!

YNFTW Tag:

@chloe-skywalker @darkswanordie @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @aomi-nabi @damn-sassalecki @right-til-the-end @wingedcatninja @the-real-witch @toews-a-peek @lokilove3112 @tftumblin @calaofnoldor @monkeymcpoopoo @cassiopeia-barrow @nickyrose3123 @icequeen206

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #jensen ackles x alternate world!reader #dean winchester #supernatural lebanon #spn fanfic #jensen ackles #you're not from this world #french mistake imagine

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shaineybainey · 4 years

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Lab Rats: Elite Force – What Exactly Went Wrong?

An Opinion Piece from a Viewer’s (and a Writer’s) Perspective

[written and posted on another site september 2018]

Let me begin this piece by stating one important fact that could or could not affect your acceptance of this piece: besides the finale, I’ve seen none of this show’s episodes. None. I only ever knew what was happening in it through the reports of others who had watched the show and had formed their own opinions about it, most of which were either negative or neutral. Could that have affected my own view of it? Of course. Could those have turned me off from the show more? Sure. But, the fact remains: the project that seemed to be the biggest and most promising in its time only had one season, ran only a few months, and was never renewed. When the show and its cast were first announced, I was admittedly upset. My favorite character was not included. I found it unfair since this spin-off seemed to be a new, exciting arena with a fresh concept. It bothered me a bit to see the five main characters in the promo image posted on Twitter, too. It was a little too...monotonous compared to how the audience had known Lab Rats and Mighty Med to be. But eventually, I’ve learned to accept that Tyrel Jackson Williams, the actor who played Leo, may have wanted to move on to new projects (and he did) and that maybe the creators just thought that the five actors they handpicked could carry the show a lot better. It was all okay. Soon, though, it became apparent that the negative feedback that had surprisingly come from some of the most loyal fans of Lab Rats, Mighty Med, or both were actually a reflection of how the viewers felt in general. When the finale aired on October 2016, the news that it was a series finale rather than just a season finale had already rocked the fandom. Twitter and Tumblr were flooded with complaints against Disney XD for canceling “another great show” in favor of a “trashy one”—which seemed to be an indirect snipe at the network’s then newest program, Mech X-4. Fans took to the actors’ Instagram accounts, asking them when the second season would come or why there wouldn’t be anymore episodes. They were understandably heartbroken over this loss. They tried to save it for months but – it didn’t work. The plea for #RenewLabRatsEliteForce didn’t carry the impact the petitioners wanted it to have, sadly because those left were too few in numbers. Many of the most vocal and most outspoken ones—the viewers whose voice when Lab Rats aired were the most powerful—have unfortunately already left the show long before and could not be counted on anymore for any help. Thus, Lab Rats: Elite Force never came back on air. It may be a wonder to some how that could have happened. Lab Rats, the main ‘universe’ this show played in, still remains as one of Disney XD’s powerhouse shows due to its iconic interracial family, bright and bold sets, and seamless, innovative plots. Meanwhile, the lore and mythology that came with Mighty Med was the most complex and held the most potential. These two combined should have generated a show worth the four-season run that Disney treats their most exciting and popular programs with. So, what exactly went wrong? Below is just a few of the things that I think may have caused the show its demise. The Reasons 1. When the shows combined, they were both stripped of their characters of color (save for one) – which resulted in lack of both visual diversity and diversity in storytelling. When Lab Rats aired in February 2012, there was already a considerable buzz about it. Besides its predecessor, Pair of Kings, Disney haven’t been playing much with the idea of featuring an interracial family. That was why it piqued the interest of many people when trailers of a Black teenage boy finding himself in a new family with his Black mom, White stepdad, and three White stepsiblings aired. It was icing on top of the cake, too, when at the time, it appeared that the main character might actually be of color this time. Mighty Med followed this diversity trend to a degree. The two main characters were both White, but the rest are of other races—two Hispanic and one Asian, to be exact (or Calderan, if we’re speaking of the character rather than the actress). These characters offered different voices, backgrounds, and personalities to their shows. They also served as beacons, lights of hope that maybe, just maybe, Disney is starting to understand that there were also other races and ethnicities they could pick to tell their stories and that they didn’t have to worry about it ‘not working.’ Everything was working, but fast forward a couple of years later, one of Lab Rats’ creators announced that the two shows would merge, and here, they are your new team! To be exact: William Brent, Kelli Berglund, Bradley Steven Perry, Jake Short, and Paris Berelc. Two of the stepsiblings from the Lab Rats fandom, and the three main characters from Mighty Med. Of course, this is not to knock them as actors. They’re all quite good, in my opinion! In fact, Paris Berelc is still unbelievably wonderful in her new Netflix show Alexa and Katie as Alexa Mendoza. Kelli Berglund and Jake Short have new projects they’re currently involved in as well. However, as a viewer, I thought the production could have put together a better combination. Past the shiny and admittedly impressive costumes and cool vibe of the cast, the promotional image and the trailers that subsequently followed lacked the oomph! the other two shows, as separates, had. The characters as a collective weren’t visually interesting anymore because they didn’t reflect the way the viewers saw the world. It was like Disney XD went back to how it was before Pair of Kings aired. It would have been better if they made a few switches. It could have even been somewhat forgivable if there was a recurring minor character of color. Sadly, there wasn’t. Everyone looked the same. 2. There were two Chases, two Brees, and one Adam in the team. Disney has long ago earned the reputation of having repeating archetypes in their programs—and the two shows, even as separates, weren’t safe from this. Still, they were all balanced out. Lab Rats' book smart, shy, sometimes egotistic, but truly kind character Chase Davenport was balanced out by his stepbrother Leo Dooley, who had impeccable street smarts, was rather mischievous, dangerously curious and clumsy, but was also ultimately good at heart. At the same time, Mighty Med’s resident teen doctor Oliver, who was resourceful, introspective, and the voice of reason, was balanced out by his best friend Kaz - his impulsive but loyal partner-in-crime who prevented him from being eaten up by his own seriousness through jokes and lax regard to the rules. When the shows merged, well, things went off-kilter. All of a sudden, the show had two young men (Chase and Oliver) with the leader personality. It was also evident from the sudden changes in the character’s clothing style that Skylar Storm had lost her individuality and her rather funny but genuinely heartwarming curiosity of the world around her. She had adopted Bree Davenport’s style and also, subtly, her treatment of the world and the people closest to her (which, if you haven’t seen the original show, wasn’t stellar at all). Kaz was the only one safe from the character cloning. Kind of. He remained to be the sense of humor in the show, but I can’t help but think when I saw the finale that he essentially served the same purpose Adam Davenport did in Lab Rats’ narrative. This lack of variation in personalities made for a bit of a static storytelling. One fanfiction writer who used to be really into Lab Rats told me a few months into the show that the characters brought out the worst in each other. Gone was the sweet Chase Davenport and was replaced instead by a character who had to constantly assert his dominance over his teammates. Oliver, whose affection towards Skylar had been cute and heartfelt to watch, had become obsessed with her and had turned stalker-ish, reportedly pressuring her into becoming his girlfriend. And the team as a whole had become a bratty bunch, too consumed now by their own importance and their own problems to show warmth and kindness towards one another. Again, this could have easily been prevented by making a couple of switches. The fanfiction writer part of me thought that it would have been better if the team was instead made up of Bree, Leo, Oliver, a new WOC character with a rather stoic personality, and Skylar, who would serve as the team’s leader. That could have offered an interesting dimension to the show: varying voices, potentially initial conflicts that can turn into warm, lasting friendships, and varying strengths and weaknesses that can play well with each other and can definitely move the story forward for a couple of years. Lab Rats: Elite Force was trying to achieve a Teen Titans feel, and those five could have done that. But, reality turned out differently, and there's no undoing what had been done. 3. The Villains in the Mask, Part 3. As much as I love the writers and creators of the Lab Rats universe, I do have a few complaints, one of which is: do the villains always have to be concealed or be wearing a mask? Victor Krane, and now Roman and Riker. All of them were introduced to the show wearing masks! Also, they all had the same reason for doing the villainy they did: revenge. Now, from the outside looking in, that may not be as bad. Revenge is a rather strong motivator, but in comparison to the best ones this show had seen, did it really have to be that again? I’ll give you the best villain Lab Rats had as an example: Marcus Davenport. He was an android bent on destroying Adam, Bree, and Chase—and most specially, Leo—for the sole reasons that (1) that was his order, (2) he hates them, and (3) he hated them because they had their father’s affection and attention, and he didn’t. What made him complex and gave him a nice layer as a character was that despite his manipulative and murderous nature, at the end of the day he just wanted affirmation and affection from his dad. From what had been revealed, the spin-off’s villains had a reason of their own to go after the protagonists. Roman and Riker’s father had been drained of his powers for his own good, but the boys and the rest of their family didn’t see it as such. They saw it as an insult to them, although if I’m not mistaken, the show didn’t really explain why they felt that way. It was just a reason that was just...was. In the finale, they introduced another villain: Roman and Riker’s sister, Reece. Oh, she was manipulative and cunning. She also seemed promising because there was a moment of doubt when she was caught red-handed by one of the good guys. She was torn on whether she should hurt him to make her escape or not (spoiler alert: she chose the former; she blinded him). But, that was as far as it went. As mentioned, the show didn’t come back for a season two—which still haunts the rest of the fandom even after two years of its sudden end. 4. Everything was rushed. Good stories take time. Like flowers, the characters and the plot need time to grow. The writers of Lab Rats understood that when the original show first began. We saw character development and storylines that were quite impressive, mature, and relatable despite the show being marketed for children. There were also plot twists that were actually incredible. It became a memorable show because the writing team took their time. In the spin-off, they didn’t. The best example is the Oliver/Skylar pairing. The two years of slow burn between the two characters quickly changed into a wildfire that was erratic and didn’t make sense. Oliver was strangely out of character, and Skylar only seemed to have agreed to the relationship because she got annoyed. The relationship was awkward because it was handled impatiently. Reece’s introduction was rushed, too. She was maybe shaping up to be the big bad of the next season, but unlike Marcus, whose presence and role were built slowly and surely, she was pushed in. So, maybe she wasn’t going to be the main villain? The ambiguity created by all of these off-paced writing turned off the viewers one by one. At the end of it, I heard more unhappy responses to the show than I did positive. Maybe, somehow, the show-runners knew about that, too. They just didn’t say anything about it. 5. ‘Who’s your audience?’ It’s important to know the answer to that question because if you don’t, it will show. Lab Rats was marketed to children, perhaps in the ages 8-11 demographic. However, it was crafted to also appeal to teenagers and adults who may have been curious about the new project of the That 70’s Show’s former creators. Mighty Med, basing on its writing, appeared to have been meant for ages 6-11. Fans of the show might disagree with me on this, but it’s good to remember that one of its creators also made ANT Farm, which had silly humor oftentimes. (Not a bad thing at all. It’s just revealing of its audience.) Lab Rats: Elite Force seemed to have had problems identifying who it should actually appeal to. Should it be written like Lab Rats had been written? With silly humor here and there but also with jokes that teenagers and adults would appreciate? Or should it be written like Mighty Med, directed to the younger viewers and used laugh tracks more often? Well, the winner remains unclear. The characters’ sudden immaturity suggests they wanted to appeal to the new audience, but their rushed treatment of the Skoliver pairing also showed that they wanted to please longtime viewers somehow. They also gave Bree a new ability, perhaps to keep the interest of the loyal fans, but it didn’t really serve its purpose. It was probably meant to have been a wow factor. Sadly, it was another thing that didn’t work because the people they were trying to direct it to have lost interest—probably because they felt that the writers had ignored them for far too long in favor of newer, younger viewers who didn’t even stick around to watch the show. Concluding Thoughts At one point, I kind of hoped, too, that the spin-off would be green lighted to have a second season. When it finished, the hard feelings I had against it was almost gone, and I was earnestly hoping they would come back. Whatever the real reason(s) may have been for it not being able to, the cast and crew still deserve credit for doing their absolute best to make the show as enjoyable as possible. The finale, in particular, had a few highlights, and the set where the battle scene took place was impressive. The cast also put their best foot forward. The writers, meanwhile, perhaps despite knowing about the impending end, really did craft something special for those who had stuck with them until the final second. Despite its problems and potentials that were not explored, Lab Rats: Elite Force still graduated as a nice show with moments of excitement, dashing costumes, and memorable sets.

#Lab Rats: Elite Force #Lab Rats #Mighty Med #opinion piece

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niennavalier · 4 years

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Okay, belated Star Wars thoughts under the cut; no particular order, just as I think of them. Possibly some unpopular opinions, I dont really know, I'm not all that active in the SW fandom. So maybe I'll get roasted alive but...eh, whatever, this site is somewhere between an void and hell anyway.

Also SPOILERS BELOW (OBVIOUSLY)

[[MORE]]

Okay, so first things first: I enjoyed episode 9. A lot. It was really fun to watch, and just talking in terms of my experience in the theater, it was fantastic. It was so much fun to see the old crew back, all of those appearances were basically like happiness shots in the arm. It was really very cool. The Palpatine reveal and everything around it was pretty damn epic for the obvious reasons. And I absolutely loved seeing the trio bantering and arguing and passing each other - I always love stuff like that. I swear, just give me hours of good character interaction and I'll be happy. Kylo and Rey fighting together/him using the blue lightsaber was also some cool shit and basically like "yaasss heres the payoff for the entire trilogy let's fucking gooo"

Oh, and I need to mention that little droid that Rey fixes. That little guy was adorable and I want merch for him and I will not hear otherwise. (The droids are always great in all the movies fight me)

Also Zorii and Jannah. Badasses, loved watching them and the way they got to interact with the main cast. Just...wanna spill all the love for them in this sentence.

But there are a lot of other things I have to say about the movie - especially the more I think about it and the trilogy as a whole. Dont get me wrong; I still really loved watching the movie. There are just...certain things that feel like missteps or missed opportunities?

(Not counting how badly Oscar Isaac wanted Finn and Poe to be boyfriends, which I just discovered is a thing. And reminds me a lot of anytime anyone mentions Julian Bashir to Andy Robinson and his response is always "oh Garak wanted to have sex with him from the start". Which I literally love so much, this man is a treasure, and I'm glad that apparently the same thing is happening here. And it's not that I'm not gonna talk about it here cause I dont think Poe and Finn should've been boyfriends, but I'm pretty sure Oscar Isaac has much more to say about it than I do)

Gonna start where I always start when I have problems with writing: romance. Because IMO badly written/unnecessary romance can ruin any good story real quick. I'm talking about the kiss at the end. I'm not saying this to bash on the Rey and Kylo shippers. Generally, I dont care what you ship so long as you dont start harassing everyone else; I care even less when it comes to this fandom cause I just participate in it so little. So this isnt me bashing on the ship itself or the fans, but I just think that, in the context of the movie itself, the romance was really poorly handled. To the point that I saw the scene going that way and all I could think was "oh god please dont kiss, I'm begging you". And well...we all know where that went. But I just never got a romantic vibe from the two of them in terms of what was shown on screen. The chemistry always felt familial, at least to me, across episodes 8 and 9 in particular. I dont know if that's just the chemistry between the actors or what, but the tension between them never struck me as romantic - more like two people desperate for someone who understands the chaos around them, not lovers.

Again, granted, maybe that's just the way I read stuff, especially considering I really appreciate movies that don't feature romance arcs. I'm not sure how it read to other people, and I'm not gonna bash on the shippers who like it. I may feel like JJ Abrams didnt write a convincing romance - or just stuck the kiss in there at the end to fulfill some plan from episode 7 that didnt actually pan out - but I have no problem with the ship itself, or the people who ship it. (Because at the end of the day, this is all fiction, and I couldnt care less how anyone chooses to interact with it)

(And this isnt an entirely rated point but because I've seen it around:

In all honesty, I'm starting to think that the romance thing was just a symptom of a bigger problem with this trilogy: it doesnt feel cohesive. It's like JJ Abrams and Rian Johnson had two separate sets of notes and just refused to actually look between them. Two separate sets of ideas that they were too stubborn to compromise on.

And I have a feeling (at least, talking to my little brother, who definitely feels this way) that a lot of people are pinning this fragmented feel to the trilogy on Rian Johnson and The Last Jedi, but I honestly don't think that's fair. Because, and here's the unpopular opinion: I really don't think Last Jedi is that bad. At least, not bad enough to deserve all the flak it gets.

Won't get into that entirely here because that could be a whole separate post, but that's my opinion. Sure, it's not perfect, there are definitely a lot of parts that are pretty irrelevant and not really necessary, but that's true of everything. Frankly, its biggest problem was that it was written for the wrong audience. Which is a major problem, yes, but taken for what it is, it's perfectly decent. As I said before, I could write a whole thing on this movie and why it's not that bad (because I have my brother's points as to why it's terrible for me to argue against) but overall, my reading of 8 is that it's a movie meant to introduce wider ideas and concepts to the universe - particularly this very gray and murky area of morality and character - through stories that are closer to the characters and tied to harsher realities of war. Things aren't always black and white, people are complex, sometimes our heroes can be gravely wrong in ways that aren't glamorous.

Frankly, it feels somewhere between a super deep indie movie and Star Trek (particularly DS9, at least to me, because I love when that show gets to twisty moral stuff). So yeah, wrong audience, yet he decided to stick with his storytelling despite that. No matter I personally might fall into the audience that movie resonates with, it wasnt gonna resonate with most of the fandon.

Again, Last Jedi is far from perfect in other ways too, but it sets up some great ideas that I was really hoping to get some closure on. Honorable mention here is when Rose saves Finn when he's speeding out to sacrifice himself and because of the desire to save the people they love, which I always end up likening to the "we dont trade lives" sentiment. Mentioning this cause my brother always complains about it, but I was thinking this would be one of those virtues that separate the good guys from the bad guys and ultimately allow good to triumph. Yknow, sorta like how Voldemort's lack of understanding of love contributed to his downfall, to liken it to HP. I was under the assumption that would be the concept at some turning point in the climax, but...guess not.

Big one though, which was actually a pretty big disappointment IMO, was the whole neutrality argument, the existence of a grey area. The most interesting thing from Rey and Kylo's scenes in 8 was the notion that the Jedi and Sith could be left to die, and the two of them would essentially find a way separate from those two sides, walking a path down the middle. I know I'm not the first person to bring this up, especially because of how the Force just...works. That the scales need to be balanced. And so, given that, to have the Jedi always destroy the Sith - that's not balance. Give it a few more years and the same problem is gonna happen; if there are Jedi, there will be Sith and war is gonna break out. That's hardly resolution, so neutrality is the way to go. And, personal opinion - I loved that this ended up in 8. It's just a lot more nuanced than "good vs evil, good is victorious" and brought in new ideas to this universe that I really wanted to see explored.

But that just...never happened. Sure, Rey has that yellow lightsaber at the end, but it's really very little more than the barest hint of lip service to that entire concept. Because it's never built on throughout the movie. Kylo's insistence that they look for a different way turns into a demand that she basically become his Sith queen. Which isnt playing with the gray area - it's more firmly dividing light and dark. And as she's fighting Palpatine, he's all the Sith, while she's all the Jedi; doubt that needs further explanation. Sure yeah, she's dealing with the revelation of her bloodline throughout the movie, but that interaction with the dark side is very different than in 8; she's afraid of it (a character arc I love, dont get me wrong), not lured by it. The Sith are very clearly evil, and despite her family, she comes to embody the Jedi as a whole. The opposite of what was laid out in 8.

Which actually just makes her choice to take the yellow lightsaber make even less sense? Because...she has no reason at all to turn away from the Jedi and every reason to keep using the Light side. The only possible reason by that point is if she knows about the balance and makes that choice intentionally to prevent the rise of a Sith lord. But that choice is never shown, so I dont give that a pass. It just feels like the lamest nod to something from 8 - no buildup, no explanation, just there because it technically should be.

And that fucking sucks. What a waste. Puts so much space between these movies.

The romance might be another aspect of that - 8 didnt really give me a strong romantic vibe, and then 9 tried to benefit off of buildup of romantic tension that just wasnt there. And that romance isnt the only other one. Just the existence of Palpatine at all? Like, awesome plot yes, but not at all foreshadowed. The banter between the trio at the start? One of my favorite parts to watch, but it comes out of nowhere, and I guess we just have to live with the idea that all of the development happened off screen. Lame. The return of the fucking helmet? Fuck, i actually have more i can say about the way i interpreted the helmet, but this is getting long. So point being: it's like we just got zipped right back to episode 7 all of a sudden and didnt even get a symbolic moment of him losing the helmet in 9 (at least, not that I remember).

Really, on the whole, JJ Abrams basically did the beginning of 9 such that most of 8 could be made irrelevant. Because that's how I felt throughout the whole movie; like 8 didnt matter. And I know a lot of fans are honestly happy with that (so maybe if was actually the right choice on that front) but god does it make the whole trilogy clunky. Literally nothing flows.

And I think that's my main problem with the trilogy as a whole - or, rather, with the production behind it. It's like JJ Abrams and Rian Johnson were just so goddamned married to their ideas that they wouldnt budge from the story they wanted to tell. Like they put their individual creative visions above the quality of the story as a whole. Like they weren't willing to deal with any changes that they didn't put into play themselves. And the trilogy suffered for it.

Which is really so obnoxious to me. Because it is very possible to be flexible and improv and incorporate other ideas into what you already had; just look at D&D. That's the job of a DM. You can plan everything out perfectly, figure out the story you want to tell, decide how you want everyone to interact with your world, but the players will invariably fuck those plans over. And you just have to roll with the punches. But beyond that, those changes can be for the better, because those are ideas you never thought of, and incorporating those makes for an even richer story than anyone expected. All because the people involved are willing to see where the story naturally takes itself.

Just wish these directors could understand that.

(Also...what was Finn gonna tell Rey? I mean...? This is honestly the strangest thing about the movie because it literally felt like the writers just...forgot they ever had this plot point after halfway. Which just feels like sloppy writing, and I feel Poe when he seems to be really curious what Finn wants to tell Rey. Because...me too!)

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simonjadis · 5 years

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Your post on subversion was intriguing. My friend and I were similarly wondering if fans take "fanon" too seriously as it warps their perception of "canon." As in the direction taken, be it by different writers or the same one, goes someplace fans just don't like. What makes it "bad writing" or "fans who just didn't like what they got" exactly? It can feel so... mixed up honestly.

refers to this post [X]

Thank you!!!

I think that fanon has so many definitions that it can be difficult to discuss without being specific

a not-particularly-safe-for-weenies example is Transformers fandom has a particular way of describing cybertronian genitals, in terms of their form, function, and terminology, that is widely (though not universally) used in fic, despite not being part of the established lore

that’s what happens when fanon is created to be lore-conforming but to address something that is not (or cannot be) directly discussed within the media itself

sometimes, fanon is about taking a hammer and fixing canon because it’s broken

for example, though it’s frankly the least of her problems when it comes to worldbuilding, JK Rowling can’t do math. it’s never clear how many students attend Hogwarts, but her overly simplified small number of magical schools throughout the world really shows that she just … didn’t crunch the numbers

I could go on about how to figure out proportions of mutants/wizards/vampires etc, but the issue here is that fans basically have to ignore this new lore because it’s absurd. that doesn’t mean that there’s a newly established fanon for HP international schools, but one day, there might be

sometimes, fanon takes a very different turn, when fans far and wide commonly accept what’s called “woobification“ of a character

Snape, Loki, Kylo Ren, Damon Salvatore. these are all fine characters to like if you so choose (I’m obsessed with Sheev Palpatine; I get it), but sometimes people will try to justify that fondness by pretending that the character is someone wildly divorced from their actual morality

I don’t want to talk about any given character, and inconsistent writing can also be a factor, and also not all of the characters I just listed are on equal moral footing by any means. but sometimes the fanon version of a character is unrecognizable because they’re a much better person than their canon counterpart

fandom expectations can be extremely difficult to manage and even to predict. if fans come up with their own ideas about how a story should end or what sort of dynamic a pair of characters have, that can come into conflict with what ends up happening in the story

unfortunately, there’s no single, hard-and-fast rule for what makes a good story vs what makes a bad one

in my previous post (linked to at the top of this post), I talked about how telling a good story is like setting up a marble ramp or a series of dominoes, where all of the pieces should be in place to get you to the ending you desire. if you have to flick over a second domino or pick up the marble and deposit it somewhere else – that is, force characters to do something that neither personality (marble) nor circumstances (ramp/obstacles/etc) support – then you’ve made a mistake. audiences will usually notice

sometimes, fanon ideas of who a character is can influence fans, which lead them to do the pikachu-surprise-meme when a canon portrayal remains consistent. but sometimes, there are other factors, such as a likeable actor. Alan Rickman was a good guy, but Severus Snape was not

this may seem like a tangent, and perhaps it is, but sometimes authors and other storytellers try to impose their own, incorrect, moral view of the world in their stories.

Jolkien Rolkien Rolkien Tolkien himself used Gandalf to tell the Frodo (and the reader) that it would be morally wrong to simply execute Gollum rather than kill him in self-defense or battle. this pays off later when Gollum’s avarice destroys the One Ring and saves Middle Earth (spoilers!). this only works out this way because JRRT, who is catholic, told that story, not because it’s always the case that the person whose life you spared will accidentally save the day later.

another great example is JKR declaring that Snape is a hero. I won’t get into her odd treatment of Slytherin, and this may fall under the I Will Fix Canon With Hammer type of fanon, but I think that we all know that she bent over backwards to vilify Slytherins just as she did with fat people (except the ones who were just foolish)

nothing that JKR says can make Snape a good person unless she tells us that the dialogue that he spoke and the actions described on the pages were just … lies she told us for some reason. writers can control the very laws of reality of their worlds, but right and wrong are what they are

anyway, I absolutely agree that what fans want to see can come into conflict with what the storyteller gives them, and that it can create an unfair backlash

by that same notion, sometimes storytellers will dismiss fan concerns over bad writing (inconsistent characterization, rushed storylines, etc) and blame “fan entitlement.” that’s a real thing, but it’s the people who rage angrily and lead review-bombing campaigns – not the people who hate seeing their favorite characters murdered by the writers (and sometimes, by other characters) because it was poor writing

I love-love-love Mass Effect Andromeda, but I know that some fans of the series did not. that does not make them bad fans. sending hate to a developer or to people who enjoyed it would make them a bad fan

bad fan behavior comes from actual behavior, not what they think about a piece of media

and as for telling the difference between bad writing and fans disappointed by a solid narrative? I mean, my marble example shows one part of what I think defines good vs bad writing. mostly, we just have to figure out for ourselves if a choice made us sad or if it was actually bad

#writing #fanon #storytelling #I hope that this is helpful anon sorry that it's so long #anon ask #anon #ask

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eclisseacontextforfilm · 5 years

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why should we be here talking, arguing? Believe me Anna, words are becoming less and less necessary; they create misunderstandings

eclisse inspirations, vol. IV Michelangelo Antonioni’s Trilogy of incommunicability part. 1 - L’avventura, 1960

When Michelangelo Antonioni’s L’avventura arrived in 1960 – amidst a tumultuous reception in Cannes that saw some disturbed audience members wanting to throw something at the screen – cinema was already changing in fundamental ways. The makers of individual, handmade films that had been institutionally kept out on the fringes (Stan Brakhage, Shirley Clarke, Norman McLaren, to name but three) were starting to draw more viewers and critical attention. The narrative feature film underwent a revision, from inside the nouvelle vague (Godard’s Breathless) and out (Agnès Varda’s first films, Alain Resnais’s Last Year in Marienbad). Meanwhile the Italian film world had already seen the old codes of neorealism swept away – much of it Antonioni’s own doing – and had moved towards a post-neorealist cinema liberated from melodrama and political ideologies, perhaps best exemplified in 1959 by Ermanno Olmi’s first feature Time Stood Still.

A new, maturing modernity became widespread in cinema. The years 1959 to 1960 can be identified as a world-historical moment for film. In line with the development of lenses, film stocks and new and smaller cameras (including a more ubiquitous use of 16mm), the modernism that took hold showed yet again the time lag after which cinema typically comes to embrace changes that have occurred first in other artforms: for instance, the radical overhaul of jazz by bebop; the transformation of the sound world of music by such figures as Edgard Varèse and Harry Partch; the abstract-expressionist movement in painting from Pollock to Rothko; the ‘new novel’ invading literature (on which Marienbaddrew, courtesy of a script by novelist Alain Robbe-Grillet).

In this exceptional moment, some of cinema’s old props were being kicked away, including Hollywood’s genre formulae, the three-act narrative structure, the privileging of psychology, the insistence on happy and ‘closed’ endings. But what did it mean to free oneself of the securing laws and traditions of genre, its capacity for creating worlds and codes? What did it mean to reject a storytelling architecture that had served dramatists well since Aeschylus? What kind of moving-image experience with actors could exist beyond psychology – which, after all, was still on the 20th century’s new frontier of science and society? What if endings were less conclusive, or less ‘satisfying’? These are the questions Antonioni confronted and responded to with L’avventura, the film that – more than any other at that moment – redefined the landscape of the artform, and mapped a new path that still influences today’s most venturesome and radical young filmmakers.

For some that film would instead be Breathless. Godard’s accidental discovery of the jump cut (courtesy of his editor) helped him rejig a more conventional yet sly imagining of the crime movie into a piece of radical art, a way of fracturing time as important as Picasso’s and Braque’s Cubist fracturing of space and perception. It’s also arguable that Godard had the more immediate impact, especially through the 1960s, since his taste for pop-culture iconography, graphic wordplay and politics positioned him a bit closer to the centre of the period’s cultural zeitgeist than Antonioni (despite the Italian’s subsequent ability to capture swinging London and The Yardbirds in 1966’s Blowup, and Los Angeles counterculture in 1970’s Zabriskie Point). Even a movie with huge pop figures and crossover attraction like Richard Lester’s A Hard Day’s Night (1964) would have been unthinkable without the example of Godard.

Yet I’d argue that L’avventura and Antonioni’s subsequent films – perhaps most importantly L’eclisse (The Eclipse, 1962) – have exerted a greater long-term impact (his effect on the generations after the 1960s is something I’ll consider later). One of L’avventura’s many remarkable qualities to note now is its staying power – its ability to astonish anew after repeated viewings. Many great films are of their moment, yet lessen over time. Here, the entrance of Monica Vitti, with her classically hip black dress and sexily tousled blonde mane, amounts to an announcement that the 60s have arrived; a lesser work with her in it would be no more than a key identifier of that moment.

It’s the film’s subtle straddling of an older world and a new one still in the process of defining itself – reflected immediately and perfectly in composer Giovanni Fusco’s opening title theme, alternating between nostalgic Sicilian strummings and nervous, creeping percussive beats – that establishes its rich, unending landscapes of physical reality and the mind. This is part of the film’s timelessness, within an absolutely contemporary / modern setting. The early images of L’avventura trace a parting of the generations, as Anna (Lea Massari) – seemingly the film’s central character – tells her wealthy Roman father that she’s going away on a holiday to Sicily with girlfriend Claudia (Vitti), then seen very much on the periphery of the action, tagging along. But after Anna inexplicably disappears during a boat trip to an uninhabited island, it is Claudia who moves to the centre of the narrative – and into the affections of Anna’s architect boyfriend Sandro (Gabriele Ferzetti) – as attempts to find Anna gradually peter out.

What makes L’avventura the greatest of all films, however, is its assertion, exploration and expansion of the concept of the ‘open film’. This had been Antonioni’s great project ever since he started out as a filmmaker after an extremely interesting career as a critic (like Godard). His early documentaries, such as The People of the Po (Gente del Po, 1947), and his earliest narrative films, such as the astonishing Story of a Love Affair (Cronaca di un amore, 1950), suggest an artist pulling against what he perceived as the constraints of neorealism towards an openness based on a heightened perception of constant change – a dynamic that was for him the fundamental quality of the post-war world.

A NEW QUESTION

For Antonioni, the issues of neorealism were essential, in that they gave him an aesthetic base from which to launch. The People of the Po is an early neorealist work, both in its submersion in unvarnished realism and its interest in the lives of working people, but it also works against the predominant tendency in neorealism to project sympathy and sentimentality. By the time of Story of a Love Affair, teeming with characters from the upper and middle classes, his was not a class-based cinema; it offered instead a broader perspective – observant, distanced, occasionally unsympathetic. It reached into a more modern realm than neo-realism, a realm that had no name for it – and in fact still doesn’t.

Antonioni was never a leader – nor even part – of a movement. That’s partly because with each successive film he constantly redefined his approach. Roland Barthes, in his profoundly perceptive and concise 1980 speech honouring Antonioni, identified the process this way: “It is because you are an artist that your work is open to the Modern. Many people take the Modern to be a standard to be raised in battle against the old world and its compromised values; but for you the Modern is not the static term of a facile opposition; the Modern is on the contrary an active difficulty in following the changes of Time, not just at the level of grand History but at that of the little History of which each of us is individually the measure. Beginning in the aftermath of the last war, your work has thus proceeded, from moment to moment, in a movement of double vigilance, towards the contemporary world and towards yourself. Each of your films has been, at your personal level, a historical experience, that is to say the abandonment of an old problem and the formulation of a new question; this means that you have lived through and treated the history of the last 30 years with subtlety, not as the matter of an artistic reflection or an ideological mission, but as a substance whose magnetism it was your task to capture from work to work.”

L’avventura builds on the work and experiences of Antonioni’s previous decade, which saw him working through his doubts about genre (film noir in Story of a Love Affair, backstage drama in La signora senza camelie, 1953); about narrative form (the counter-intuitive three-part structure of I vinti, 1952); his love of writer Cesare Pavese (author of the source novel for 1955’s Le amiche) – as important a literary voice to Antonioni as Cesare Zavattini was to the hardcore neorealists. And add to this his growing interest in temporality, the emptied-out frame, the composition that maintains both precision and an expansive gaze that treats bodies, buildings and landscapes with equal importance.

With only a few filmmakers (Mizoguchi, Renoir, Dreyer, von Sternberg, Resnais, Olmi, Kubrick, and more recently Costa, Alonso and Apichatpong) is there such a visible, constant seeking of artistic purpose through the process of each successive film – a striving, a refinement. Antonioni’s 1950s work represents one of the most fruitful directorial decades to watch of any filmmaker. Already in some ways a master in 1950, he proceeded to question his own positions with each film, as if the doubts he had about the state of the post-war world resided, originally, in himself, and then fanned out to the making of the work itself, so that the expression of mortality (most explicitly conveyed in a Pavese adaptation such as Le amiche) inside the film was part and parcel of the director’s own tentative stance. (Tentato suicido/Tentative Suicide is the title of Antonioni’s segment in the 1953 omnibus film L’amore in città.)

These were not only cerebral matters – though the intellectual currents running underneath these films and under the neorealist movement preceding them were crucial to their fecundity – but real concerns rooted in the hard factors that faced any Italian filmmaker trying to get a project off the ground. Antonioni’s tentativeness – a constant fascination to his supporters in the French critical community, and an irritation to many of his Italian contemporaries – was partly based on the tentativeness of Italian film production itself. In almost no case during the 1950s did he encounter a smooth pre-production, firm financial backing or drama-free production periods. The typically poor performance of his films at the box office did little to enamour him to distributors and producers, though in the then nascent world of the auteur film business, it helped enormously that his films did well – even smashingly well – in Paris.

After the commercial failure of Il grido (1957) and an initially limp critical response, Antonioni seriously considered abandoning the cinema altogether, and returned to the theatre, where he had worked in the early years of his career. Even when he did come back to film, to shoot L’avventura, all of his worst concerns came back to haunt him. Already shaky producers bailed out mid-shoot as their company, Imeria, went bankrupt, leaving the crew literally high and dry on the desert island of Lisca Bianca, without sufficient food and water, in a hair-raising episode that makes Coppola’s misadventures filming Apocalypse Now in the Filipino jungle sound like a stroll on the beach.

SURPASSING MYSTERIES

This context, in all its intellectual and practical dimensions, is crucial to comprehending the massive achievement that L’avventura represents. How a film of such constant perfection could even be made under such dreadful conditions is, for me, one of the surpassing mysteries of film history. Viewed in isolation (and aren’t almost all films, even more now in our isolated viewing environments?), L’avventura can superficially be seen as magnificently beautiful in its constant chain of stunning black-and-white images from cinematographer Aldo Scavarda (with whom Antonioni had never previously worked, and never would again).

L’avventura is populated by good-looking actors oozing sex appeal. Monica Vitti, for one, had never had a starring film role before, but with her smouldering presence it was she – as much as Sophia Loren or Ingmar Bergman’s ensemble of intelligent and worldly actresses – who set the standard and the look for the new, sexualised European movie star that was key to the successful foreign-film invasion that hit English-language shores (and was perceived as such a threat by LBJ and his White House crony Jack Valenti that they set up the American Film Institute as a nationalist bulwark against the foreigners supposedly taking over US cinemas). For New York downtown hipsters, London cosmopolitans and Paris cinephiles alike, the combination of serious cinema and sexual beauty was simply too much to pass up.

All that may be why L’avventura had its immediate impact. (A special jury prize from Cannes, after all that booing and hissing, also didn’t hurt.) But the endurance of the film, residing crucially in its conceptual openness, describes a pathway that cinema has been exploring and testing ever since. Much as Flaubert’s novels and Beethoven’s symphonies, concertos and string quartets are continually regenerated by way of the new directions they paved, and the new generations of work following such directions, so Antonioni’s work – and L’avventura in particular – is regenerated by the subsequent cinema that came in its wake.

As Geoffrey Nowell-Smith observes in his essential study of the film, the periphery in Antonioni is of absolute importance, for this is where the sense of drift in his mise-en-scène and narratives resides – a de-centred centrality. No filmmaker before Antonioni, not even the most radical visionaries like Vigo, had established this before as a part of their aesthetic project. In the early scenes when Anna visits Sandro, or when they join their holiday boating group, Vitti’s Claudia remains for a long time on the outside looking in, marginalised, seemingly unimportant. And yet there is something in her nervous gaze, her subtle physical gestures, that makes her impossible not to notice, especially in contrast to Anna’s inner tension and outward unhappiness – an unhappiness she can’t identify, even in private to Claudia.

These are most certainly not Bergman women, forever examining themselves, forever able to articulate the exact words in whole spoken paragraphs about their state of mind, their relationship with God. For one thing, in Antonioni, God doesn’t exist. The state of the world is one of humans searching for some kind of connection amidst a disinterested nature; the island on which the floating party lands is both exotically remote and barren, like a volcano frozen during eruption. The landscapes in L’avventura have been interpreted in a number of different ways that testify to the film’s Joycean levels of readings: from Seymour Chatman’s insistence on metonyms for his reading of what he calls Antonioni’s “surface of the world”, to Gilberto Perez’s more valuable view of the work in his extraordinary film study The Material Ghost, across a whole range of possible interpretations, from the literary to the visual. For me, however, it’s always tempting to see these people – on this island, at that moment – as the last humans on earth.

In L’avventura, more than any film before it had ever dared, the centre will not hold. The open film is a fluid thing, pulsating, forever changing, shifting from one centre to another, not quite beginning and not quite ending (or at least beginning something new in its ‘ending’). Anna, the centre, vanishes, with no visual or verbal clues to trace her by, except rumours of sightings. She was in effect the glue that held the party together, having helped bring Claudia in closer to her circle of friends – and to Sandro. But with Anna’s disappearance, the film alters shape in front of us; a sudden absence actually expands the film’s eye. Individual shots become more extended and prolonged, the sky and land grow larger, the elements become more tangible (clouds, rain, harsher sun).

HERE AND NOW

What’s even more disturbing is that nothing happens – no discovery, no evidence, no detective work and, finally, no memory. L’avventura is, in part, the story of how a woman is forgotten, to the extent that long before the film is done, Anna is less than a trace on a page, a ghost or a photo in an album. A more sentimental filmmaker or a Hollywood studio would have ensured that Anna lived on through Claudia and Sandro’s love affair and possible union. But here, after a while, they don’t speak of Anna anymore. She gradually fades, which is what happens to the dead as regarded by the living (not that Anna is necessarily dead; the film neither encourages nor discourages the suggestion). Although their joint actions ostensibly trace an effort to collect any information on Anna’s whereabouts, Antonioni suggests that the activity of Claudia and Sandro isn’t nearly as important as their time together in this moment, in this or that place.

About those places. The greatness of L’avventura is multivalent, situated in many realms at once: cinematic, aural, existential, literary, architectural, sexual, philosophical – all of them of equal importance. The open film, beyond its fluidity, is amoral in the best sense, or at least unconcerned with a hierarchy of values. Almost all films of any kind privilege certain artistic values above others, and the great ones do it for several: Singin’ in the Rainhonours the body, the sounds of showbiz, the fresh memories of Hollywood at its height; Vampyr celebrates the psychological effect that optical dislocations have on the viewer’s psyche, the spiritual possibilities of the horror film, the blurry line between genres and those alive and dead.

But L’avventura marks a new kind of film, not made before, in which the story that launched the film dissolves and gives way to something else – a journey? a wandering? – that points to a host of possible readings beyond what mere narrative allows, and yet at the same time is too specifically rooted in a form of acting – in situations, episodes and events – to ever become purely abstract. (Though this was an area Antonioni did address in various ways, including the semi-apocalyptic ending of L’eclisse, the visualisations of madness in 1964’s Red Desert and the slow-motion explosion near the end of Zabriskie Point.)

For Geoffrey Nowell-Smith, “L’avventura is a film about consciousness and its objects, the consciousness that people have of other people and of the environment that surrounds them.” It is a film that’s also about a change of consciousness – what that looks and feels like: for instance Claudia’s move from the edges to the centre and, in the final passages, back to the edges. This change of consciousness is realised in terms that encompass Antonioni’s grasp of a vast range of materials: Sandro’s relationship with architecture is framed with the couple’s bodies, both above buildings and nearly swallowed up by them, their shared sexuality first shared in open space and then further and further contained within smaller rooms; the sense of new possibilities (new towns, new relationships) seen in the curve of a highway, a train hurtling down the tracks and through tunnels; the insistence on the Old World in the hulking presence of churches, formal dinner parties, rigid bodies against Claudia’s free and easy one, always in motion; the sounds of creaky nostalgic ‘Italian’ music against Fusco’s disturbing atonalities and unnerving syncopations (in one of the greatest film scores ever written).

Antonioni, as Perez often notes, infuses his cinema with doubt – a doubt that extends to his questioning of psychology as a basis for cinematic drama (let alone his doubt in the value of cinematic drama). But doubt is not an end point in this or his other films; instead it represents the beginning of new possibilities. Thus the open film’s mapping of changes of consciousness – through the tools of mise-en-scène, temporality, elliptical editing, a matching of sound to image combined with a de-emphasis on actors’ faces presiding over scenes (close-ups are fewer by far in L’avventura than any of his previous films) – is a picture of a post-psychological topography of the human condition, a radical effort to find a cinema grammar to express inner thought with photographic means.

This is a map that did (as Perez has noted) go out of style for a time, perhaps during the period of postmodernism, and definitely during the period when Fassbinder ruled the arthouse. But the map has been opened again by a new generation. Its influence can now be seen in films from every continent – to such an extent that the Antonioni open film can be said to be in its golden age. Here are some examples: the work of Apichatpong Weerasethakul, from Blissfully Yours to Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives; Lisandro Alonso’s La libertad through to Liverpool; Uruphong Raksasad’s Agrarian Utopia; C.W. Winter and Anders Edström’s The Anchorage; Ulrich Köhler’s Sleeping Sickness; the entire so-called Berlin School, of which Köhler is a part; Albert Serra’s Honour of the Knights and Birdsong; James Benning; Kelly Reichardt; Kore-eda Hirokazu; Ho Yuhang’s Rain Dogs; Jia Zhangke’s Platform and Still Life; Li Hongqi’s Winter Vacation. The list goes on…

Some of these filmmakers may disavow any Antonioni influence – but we know that what directors (including Antonioni) say about their films can’t always be trusted. Besides, the ways in which L’avventura works on the viewer’s consciousness are furtive and often below a conscious level. In Apichatpong’s fascination with characters being transformed by the landscape around them; in Raksasad’s interest in dissolving the borders between ‘documentary’ and ‘fiction’, or the recorded and the staged; in Alonso’s precision and absolute commitment to purely cinematic resources and disgust with the sentimental; in Köhler’s continual refinement of his visualisation of his characters’ uncertain existences; in Reichardt’s concern for what happens to human beings in nature – especially when they get lost: in all these and more, the open film is stretched, remoulded, reconsidered, questioned, embraced. A kind of film that was first named L’avventura.

[by Robert Koehler, from BFI. November 2016]

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