#i know this film has detractors but i simply am not one of them

[vaultlucy]

last days (2005), dir. gus van sant

#i know this film has detractors but i simply am not one of them #last days #last days 2005 #gus van sant #kurt cobain #michael pitt #filmedit #last days of jesus christ etc etc #nirvana

[brightbeautifulthings]

Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace

"'What if sometimes there is no choice about what to love? What if the temple comes to Mohammed? What if you just love? without deciding? You just do: you see her and in that instant are lost to sober account-keeping and cannot choose but to love?'"

Year Read: 2014, 2020

Rating: 5/5

Context: It's hard to know where to begin writing a review for this book. I read it for the first time in graduate school in about five weeks (alongside everything else I had to do in grad school, so I don't recommend that), and it basically blew my mind. At the same time, it's hard to imagine tackling it any other way for the first time. Despite its difficulty, there are things obsessive and immersive and, appropriately, even addictive about it. Full immersion might be the only way to read it for the first time, and I obsessed about it for months afterward. Since I'm not on any deadlines, I took it more slowly this time (21 weeks) so I could enjoy the writing and the nuances without the pressure to finish. For my less coherent weekly updates in real time, see my blog posts. Trigger warnings: Everything, everything. Death (on-page), child death, animal death, suicide, suicidal ideation, rape, pedophilia, possible incest, child abuse/abusive households, graphic violence/gore, eye horror, severe injury, drug use, addiction, alcoholism, mental illness, depression, OCD, grief, racism, ableism, transphobia, sexism, inexplicable hostility toward Canadians.

About: If it's difficult to know how to write a review, it's equally hard to describe what Infinite Jest is about. It's about so many things, tennis, addiction, communication (failures), and entertainment among them, but I'll do my best. Beneath all the numerous characters, timelines, and subplots, the main plot is about a film so entertaining that it kills anyone who watches it, robs them of all desire to do anything but watch it until they die, and what a faction of Canadian assassins will do to possess it. The auteur is James Incandenza, a suicide whose son, Hal, is a prodigy at Enfield Tennis Academy. Next door to E.T.A. is Ennet House, a drug rehabilitation center where Don Gately, former thief and Demerol addict, is taking it day by day to stay sober. Though they don't know it, Hal and Gately are connected, and the deadly Entertainment and those who seek it draw their paths closer and closer together.

Thoughts: It's rare to find a book that is actually as smart as it claims to be, but IJ is--certainly much smarter than I am, despite all my attempts to make sense of it. It starts off strong and doesn't let up for several hundred pages, which is a huge achievement all by itself. Wallace excels at writing extremely polished sections that could almost function alone as short stories, and the first chapter is one of my favorites in all fiction. It's reassuring, I think, to start the book off on a strong note, in case we worried we were in for a thousand pages of tedious slog. It can be both, but it's often heartfelt, insightful, and funny as well, and the payoff is well worth the effort. I don’t know how Wallace manages to pack every page with so much meaning. Anybody can put tedious lists in their books or make reading purposely difficult (and I have attitude about writers who do this for no reason), but there’s nothing haphazard about this book, despite its size and varied focus. Everything seems utterly intentional. The conversations are really top-tier; Wallace has a great ear for how people talk, and it's a fascinating look at how communication works and doesn't work.

Thematically, I think the book succeeds on more than any other level, including plot or structure. If we could say this book is "about" anything, we would almost certainly start with the themes and not the plot, which is often secondary to whatever point Wallace is trying to make at the moment. It takes an in-depth looks at things like addiction, depression, loneliness, failed communication, sincerity v. irony, critiques of postmodernism and metafiction (while being very meta itself, at times), and the very specific selfishness of an American culture that insists on freedom even to the point of self-destruction. At times, it feels a little heavy-handed or like it was yanked right out of an intro to philosophy course, but I suppose something in a thousand pages has to be obvious if we're ever going to pick up on it. A lot of these themes resurface in his other work, from "This is Water" and "E Unibus Pluram" to Orin Incandenza's Brief Interview style Q and A (and he would be a perfectly fitting character in that book).

The characters are some of my favorites in literary fiction as well, particularly the Incandenza family and Don Gately, and to a lesser extent Joelle Van Dyne (although Wallace typically doesn’t write female characters very well, and she comes with some issues). Hal and Gately couldn't be more different; Hal excels at everything he's ever done, and Gately has a record that includes accidental homicide on it. Hal is the hero of non-action, since little that happens in the book is engineered by him, while Gately is closer to the more typical hero of action, who defends the undeserving at great cost to himself. Yet their struggles with addiction are similar, and they both manage to be incredibly sympathetic characters. In my opinion, the book is always at its best when we’re with Hal or Gately, but I’m strongly driven by good characters. Despite being dead, James Incandenza's presence is also felt all over the book, from the Entertainment he created to his haunting ETA and sticking beds to the ceiling (probably the weirdest ghost I've ever seen in fiction). He's a tragic character in a book full of tragic characters. The others are too numerous to name, from the other tennis players at ETA and recovering addicts at Enfield, to the various bystanders populating Boston. We get brief glimpses into almost all of them, and while they may not all feel relevant at the time, most are memorable or heart-wrenching or slapstick funny, or all three. It's a book that contains multitudes.

That's not to say it's always on point though, and it isn't. There are a number of very serious problems with representation in this novel, and they're as bad as its detractors claim. A lot of the 90s humor aged very poorly, but that's not an excuse for some of the unabashedly racist depictions of African Americans, the uncharitable descriptions of Steeply's and Poor Tony's cross-dressing, or--however much I love him as a character--the fact that Mario Incandenza’s descriptions are ableist in just about every possible way. Wallace thinks he's capturing "voice" when he's really encouraging harmful stereotypes. The humor of the novel often doesn’t depend at all on these stereotypes and would in fact, be a lot more funny if I wasn’t spending so much energy cringing at it. So many of the little racist and ableist asides could have easily been edited out of the entire novel to make it less offensive. There are also sections where he seems at pains to be as gross as possible for its own sake. There are plenty of things grim or uncomfortable or flat out distasteful about this book, but sometimes the graphic violence kind of jumps out and stabs you in the eye, say, with a railroad spike.

If there are times when I was totally absorbed in the little tragedies of the Incandenza family or Gately's struggles, there are plenty more where it's like pushing something heavy up a hill. No lie, some of it is slogging through tedious minutiae and various experimental writing styles (some more successful and less offensive than others). Wallace has a gift for purposeful tedium; it’s at its peak in The Pale King, but he gives it a nice warm-up round here. The novel is difficult and meant to be, since Wallace maintained that some of the best pleasures are the ones we have to work for, and he's not totally off base. There's something very satisfying about living, for a time, in a book that spans a thousand pages, that demands focus and perseverance, and manages to give back (almost) as much as it takes. The book is always structurally interesting, but it starts to get more complicated toward the end as various characters and plots begin to almost slide into one another. I forgot how frustrating it was to near the end and realize--again--that it wasn't going to wrap up with any kind of satisfaction; the various plots slide, but they don’t meet. I thought if I paid closer attention on a second read that I would pick up more of the plot things I’d missed on my first, but I think the problem is that those answers simply aren’t to be found in the actual text. Of course, they can point us toward various conclusions, and the novel certainly encourages us to speculate and make connections, but I don’t think the actual answers are there.

That brings me to some of my final thoughts, for now. There's no doubt that this is a hugely successful book, and I believe it accomplished exactly what Wallace meant it to do. He jokingly referred to it as a failed entertainment, much the way Jim considered his lethal Entertainment a failure, but I have the sense that Wallace, unlike Jim, failed on purpose. The book purposely pays more attention to structure and theme than it does to plot or character, yet the plot and characters are hugely compelling for what we see of them. Imagine the book it could have been if he had paid equal attention to all of them. Wallace attempted to create a book that people wouldn't want to stop reading. Reaching the end certainly encourages us to begin again, as the first chapter is actually the last in chronology, but that trick only works the first time. By my second read, I realized that starting over wouldn't help me fill in any of those blanks or answer any of my questions, and I was content to let it go. On the one hand, IJ depends upon its structure to tell the story it's telling. On the other, think of the book it could have been if it spent more time telling a story and developing its characters and less time belaboring a point. It's one of the best books I've ever read, and the tragedy is that I think it could have been even better.

#book review #infinite jest #david foster wallace #literary fiction #adult fiction #5/5 #rating: 5/5 #2020 #bookoween

[onlythehours]

On Hillary...

It seems to me that one of the most obvious statements of the 21st Century is that Hillary Rodham Clinton is a divisive figure. But to unpick this divisiveness raises many questions, and cracks open the tides of contradictions that swell within the Hillary discourse. Nanette Burstein’s new four-part documentary Hillary (available on Sky in the UK) goes a long way to capture what makes HRC such a compelling figure, someone who seems to be at once ‘ahead of her time’ and behind the times. The documentary is structured in a way that offers glimpses of her 2016 presidential campaign woven through a chronological telling of her early years; Bill Clintons’ gubernatorial and presidential campaigns; her role as First Lady; her tenures as senator for New York and Secretary of State; and, her ultimately unsuccessful presidential campaign.

I really should say that I have long been a fan of Hillary. I’m not objective (who is?). I find her inspiring, funny, charming, endearing, and yes, likeable. I know these statements alone will raise the ire of many, and perhaps justifiably so. Hillary, like many politicians, straddles a very tricky chasm – one’s personality and persona as a living feeling person, and their role(s) in global political decisions which adversely impact many people. Part of what makes Hillary such a complicated figure to explore is the way her life is a metaphor for so much. She is so many things to so many people: feminist hero, political maverick, betrayed wife, knowing accomplice, hard-nosed career woman, corrupt career politician, dedicated public servant, and the list goes on. The point I find interesting, that I really want to capture, and that Burstein’s film settles into is the fraught relationship between Hillarys’ role in history and her role in the present.

The ways in which we can observe generational, social, and historical changes through the stages of Hillary’s life (as well as observe how Hillary herself played an instrumental role in shaping American consensus, and dissent, on many of these very topics) reveals much of what makes Hillary’s legacy so complex. Hillary is in the unique position of being both one of the many women who lived these changes, as well as having the public notoriety and fame to be a ‘historical context map’ for these changes. Her persistence to not exist in history makes her very difficult to grapple with. We are used to exceptional woman who shaped history, remaining just that – figures in history. We are less accustomed to these women continuing to live their compelling lives publicly and presently, and with little regard for their detractors. It is often easier to view problematic figures more favourably in retrospect, one wonders if the temptations to view them more harshly in present tense is also true? Maybe not, but it’s an interesting thought in Hillary’s case. Whether said outright or not, I think a reason behind much of the venom directed at Hillary is a response to the ingrained, implicit bias we (read western, specifically American) as a culture have for women who demand to be heard, and not only that, but women who have the audacity to want to lead – to desire to build, shape, and remake the very apparatus through which voices are heard and decisions are made.

As Burstein’s documentary shows, Hillary did forge paths (alongside a sea of exceptional women). However, the course of Hillary’s life pushed her to the front line in terms of exposure. I am not blaming internet culture, social media, and advances in technology and news media for the problems Hillary faces. But I do think there is something to be said for the inadequate ways in which we can incorporate the past of someone’s life into their present endeavours. Burstein captures so clearly this tricky paradigm – Hillary spent the better part of two decades navigating attacks that painted her as ruthlessly politically liberal and radically feminist (effigies of her were burnt), to then have to spend the most recent tenure of public life proving herself as liberal enough, feminist enough. As the final episode suggests in its title “Be our champion, Go away”, Hillary faces a unique problem (possibly created through such a protracted time in the public eye, and a determination to continue to rise higher): she doesn’t fit well in the current media discourse. The vastness, and notoriousness, of her history seems too unwieldy to be handled in a consumable way that allows her to not just represent the past but also play a role in the future.

Burstein’s documentary highlighted another specific problem Hillary faces – the perception of herself as false, scripted and performed. For instance, at their rallies both Bernie Sanders and Trump scream, shout, their voices course and determined. The documentary, nor Hillary make this defence, but it is clear through so many micro-aggressions and misogynistic rebukes that Hillary (like so many female leaders) is not permitted the same performance of anger and frustration as her male political counterparts. Hillary has to moderate her performance in ways others simply don’t. It seems the consequence of this male/female double standard is the view of Hillary as false. Hillary’s own team highlight her apparent ‘lack’ with public speaking. Hillary herself remarks that her relationship with the press and public was inevitably worn down as a result of years of media controversies.[1] Her awareness that she will be attacked for a raised voice or spontaneously chosen word cannot not have an impact of her public performance, and as such its reception by the audience. In a scene from the documentary one of Clintons aides describes how one of Hillary’s biggest strengths is also her biggest weakness. He uses her vast knowledge of policy as both a pro and a con. He gives the example of healthcare. During debates when Bernie and Hillary are asked about healthcare, Bernie’s response may be ‘free for all” and “universal”, whereas Hillary’s response may be a twenty-sentence-long description of her healthcare policy that she knows inside and out. A policy formed with the knowledge of how difficult it is to pass legislation. But this doesn’t read as well.

This brings us to one of Hilary’s biggest problems, her pragmaticism. This pragmaticism is also noted when a young woman attending a rally asks Hillary if elected president would she ban fracking. Hillary replies ‘No I would not do that. A president can’t just ban fracking, that’s not how our system works”. These moments typify a problem with Hillary. In the current media landscape, adoration for leaders not always based on articulated policy comes a misunderstanding of how certain legislative systems work (which is not a defence of these systems). One could argue there isn’t much difference between Bernie Sanders blanket commitments to bans, and Donald Trump’s executive orders. Yes, their intentions, and ideological views, are entirely different, but the ideal that any political leader is the fixer of all is shared, it seems, by both the right and the left.  In 2020, and indeed 2016, Hillary’s pragmaticism was never a positive.  I am trying hard not to make this a Hillary vs Bernie debate. I’m not a fan of Bernie (and that’s fine), I think his 2016 and 2020 campaigns did a great deal of damage[2], not just to Hilary’s chances of beating Trump after she secured the democratic nomination, but also to political discourse in general. But that is a debate for another time.  

I think Hillary will be a difficult watch for people who feel they are aware of her political leanings and regard her as a war-monger, bought-and-paid-for corrupt politician and Wall Street conduit.  The documentary does defend some of these charges, but it doesn’t fully engage with Clinton’s political choices, especially on foreign policy and her tenure as Secretary of State under President Obama’s administration. Hillary’s ideologies, while not uncommon in the American political landscape, are observed with a different rigour, and tone, compared to her male counterparts (Obama, Bill Clinton, Joe Biden etc). Hillary, according to media discourse and online opinion is something of a war hawk[3]. Burstein’s documentary doesn’t spar with Clinton’s policy stances. It doesn’t explore her ideological viewpoints. It is focussed on her as a woman. It wants to paint as comprehensive a picture of Hillary as a woman, and how her life fits within a series of social and political changes throughout her more than three-decade role in public life, as possible. It of course goes without saying that politicians cannot be excused of their harmful decisions based on the fact we like them alone. I accept Hillary is a problematic figure. I also accept I am no expert. I have little comprehension of the global political challenges that underpin many political and military decisions. It is worth pointing out, not as a defence of Hillary per se, but rather as added context regarding the way gender is embedded in supposedly straightforward profiles, that decisions taken by President Obama are often laid at Clinton’s feet. The men who have supposed ‘good’ public images, like Obama, face less scrutiny than Hillary.[4] This brings us to a key point visited upon in Burstein’s documentary Hillary, and a woman’s, apparent need to defend, be complicit in, and take undue responsibility for, the actions of men.    

The baggage of Bill Clinton’s affairs is never far from discourse on Hillary. Burstein’s documentary explores this and offers some critical insight into the ways in which women are exploited in media discussion in ways men are not. The requirements are different. This leaves Hillary in a difficult situation – on one hand she is at times defined by the men in her life (the media and public demanding her response and rationale), and on the other the actions of men are used against her, or as representative of her. It is a lose/lose double standard.

I suppose the root of Hillary’s issues is that she has lived life so publicly and with such a period of time that she has gone from being a scary liberal, to a right-of-centre moderate, without her views necessarily changing that much. Her pragmatic approach may not have changed, but the contexts surrounding it undoubtedly has. I’m unaware of many other western political figures who have enjoyed (although Hillary may choose a different word) such a duration of not only public notoriety, but also political influence, and power. There is such a gulf between who many see Hillary as (split into vociferous ‘for’ and ‘against’ camps) and who Hillary sees herself as. Ultimately, I think these conflicting ideas of Hilary are so firmly built that many won’t go near this documentary. I suspect it won’t persuade Hillary detractors, and it certainly won’t dissuade Hillary fans. It may, however, provide extra context for this compelling and clearly trailblazing figure. It might remind many, or indeed show for the first time, the remarkable achievements HRC made (and continues to make) throughout a lifetime of work. Even if it doesn’t provide enlightenment, it could calm the choppy waters surrounding the brand of Hillary Rodham Clinton, allowing for a brief moment an acknowledgement of her and towering achievements, and the determination and resilience that accompany them.

[1] Her ‘Tea and Cookies’ scandal a prominent example. https://qz.com/762881/the-blatantly-sexist-cookie-bake-off-that-has-haunted-hillary-clinton-for-two-decades-is-back/

[2] https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/commentisfree/2017/apr/03/the-destruction-of-hillary-clinton-sexism-sanders-and-the-millennial-feminists

https://www.wsj.com/articles/the-damage-bernies-hillary-bashing-may-do-1460995155

[3] https://foreignpolicy.com/2016/07/27/hillary-the-hawk-a-history-clinton-2016-military-intervention-libya-iraq-syria/

[4] https://www.nytimes.com/2016/04/24/magazine/how-hillary-clinton-became-a-hawk.html

#hillary clinton #doc #documentary #Film Review #review #criticism #hillary rodham clinton #us politics #documentary review

[timeagainreviews]

Five-ish Possible Showrunners for Doctor Who

It’s nothing new that people are displeased with Chris Chibnall as showrunner for Doctor Who. Throughout his tenure, he’s consistently been the weakest link in the chains holding the show together. That being said, people weren’t very happy about Steven Moffat either, and I’m sure even Russel T Davies had his fair share of detractors. It seems that no matter who is in the role of showrunner, someone will always find something to complain about.

After last night’s episode, I’ve seen the usual wingeing about Chris Chibnall. People have been calling for his removal as showrunner. Personally, I feel like Chibnall has actually progressed as an artist since he first took the reins. Series twelve was a marked improvement upon series eleven. But all of this talk got me thinking about who might be better suited to for the job. What people would I like to see in the hot seat? Let me reiterate- this is not me calling for Chibnall’s removal from the show (kinda). This is simply a thought exercise. Feel free to comment your picks as well!

1. Edgar Wright

When devising this list, Edgar Wright was the first person I thought of for the job of showrunner. With such titles as "Shaun of the Dead," "Hot Fuzz," and "Scott Pilgrim vs The World," under his belt, it's easy to see why. Already established as a great British director, writer, and producer, he clearly has the chops to take the job. This is the man who was too weird for the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and they once put out a movie about a talking raccoon with tree friend and love for heavy artillery.

My only reservation is whether or not he would actually take the job. It's not as though Mr Wright is in low demand. Would he be interested in taking what is most likely a pay cut while also working on the BBC's tight budget? If the Beeb could be smart enough to let the man have artistic freedom, we could easily end up with one of the best series of Doctor Who in years. Even if it only was just for one year.

2. Ben Wheatley & Amy Jump

This one may seem like a bit of an odd choice, but maybe not as odd as you would imagine. Coming from a more art film background, this husband/wife duo are more than capable of bringing the goods. Having both worked in film and animation I could see their skills put toward Doctor Who with great success. Neither one of them is a stranger to the process of writing, producing, or directing.

You may find them a bit of an odd choice as their black comedies like "Kill List," and "A Field in England," are anything but family-friendly. However, I might remind you that Wheatley himself has already directed two episodes of Doctor Who during the Capaldi era. Once again, it comes down to the basic question as to whether they would actually want the job. Had Wheatley never taken the job directing Doctor Who, I doubt I would have even considered them as a choice. But when you consider the dour sadfest that is "Broadchurch," suddenly they don't seem so strange.

3. Lawrence Miles

I know, I know. Lawrence Miles is easily one of the more controversial figures in the Doctor Who fandom. Outspoken and sometimes downright rude, he's burned his fair share of bridges. I myself have been at the receiving end of his snakiness via twitter. Even with all of these things factored in, I still want to see it happen. He's just that good of a writer. Also, this wouldn't be the first time a non-show writer has become showrunner. Remember Russell T Davies? Though I will concede that he did have a proven track record in television.

Listen, I get that this will never happen, but hear me out. When I first started getting into Doctor Who novels, I began with the Eighth Doctor Adventures. As with most book series, I began reading them in release order. I found some of the books to be fairly entertaining, and some were downright a chore to get through. And then I started reading "Alien Bodies." It was like a light suddenly went off in my head. This wasn't just good, it was brilliant. My enthusiasm for the entire series was given a jolt of energy.

He hadn't just written a good story, he gave the entire series some actual direction. Before "Alien Bodies," it felt as though most of the writers were still wishing they were writing the Virgin Media books. He even managed to breathe life into the companion Sam Jones, who I had found rather dull up until that point. His ability to write even the cheesiest of villains (such as the Krotons) in new and interesting ways was a breath of fresh air. He also introduced us to his Faction Paradox, which would go on to become its own cult favourite series of books. The fact is, the man had vision, and for that, he'll always be one of my favourite Doctor Who writers. If they were to hire him as showrunner, I would not complain.

4. Noah Hawley

Recently in an interview, writer Joe Hill recounted his brutal rejection letter from the BBC pertaining to his Doctor Who script submissions. Their response was basically "We would never hire an American, and if we did, it certainly wouldn't be you." Harsh. First off, that's a bit silly. Saying never to a group of writers based on their nationality is a bit myopic. Furthermore, the damn show was devised by a Canadian! I'm a firm believer of "the right person for the job." I am also of the belief that Noah Hawley could be that person.

Having produced both "Legion," and "Fargo," Hawley is a heavyweight in prestige television. Not only does he grant a degree of artistry to everything he touches, but he also adds a hint of surrealism. One of the things I've touched on in my reviews of the First Doctor era is just how surreal things can be at times. A British police box that travels through time is certainly not your run of the mill concept. Often times I think the showrunners forget just how weird Doctor Who actually is.

Hawley is also no stranger to the concept of science fiction, as Legion is actually a show based off of a Marvel comic book. It contains action, sci-fi, superhumans, strange prosthetics, and a healthy dose of surrealism. In this way, he elevates the source material while finding new and exciting ways to present it. If the BBC wanted to really put Doctor Who on the road toward BAFTA heaven, they would do well to consider someone like Noah Hawley.

5. One of the current writers

Out of all of my choices, this is the one I feel the least confident about. I say this because, well, I don't know much about their capabilities as producers. And when I say "their," I mostly mean Pete McTighe, Ed Hime, Vinay Patel and Joy Wilkinson. While there are plenty of good writers on the Doctor Who staff, these four have easily had the most stand out episodes in the last two series. McTighe is a massive Whovian geek who has shown his capability as a writer. Hime is a bit of a wild card with a penchant for the unusual. Patel has shown himself capable of writing strong drama and action. And Wilkinson, while having the least number of episodes under her belt, wrote what I consider one of the best episodes of series eleven.

Furthermore, it sticks with the convention of sticking to previous show writers as in the case of Moffat and Chibnall. As I said above, even RTD had a history with writing Doctor Who in the form of novels and audios. Having a person from the writer's room on set would be beneficial as they have already been steeped in the process. There's a pre-existing work relationship with not only the other writers but with the cast and crew as well. Out of all of the Doctor Who writers from the past few years, these four newcomers stand out among the rest. I would be intrigued by any one of them getting the job.

#doctor who #showrunner #chirs chibnall #list #edgar wright #noah hawley #lawrence miles #ben wheatley #amy jump #ed hime #pete mctighe #vinay patel #joy wilkinson #bbc #TARDIS #Time and Time Again #legion #kill list #fargo #alien bodies #faction paradox #shaun of the dead #hot fuzz #scott pilgram vs the world

[joyfulprincessdragonlover54]

How to Train Your Dragon to Me (Edited) 

I would like to start off by saying thank you to @hello-em75 for creating this awesome project for the fandom on Tumblr.  I think it’s truly wonderful how it’s being encouraged for all of the fans to share why this franchise is so special to them as individuals.  I also appreciate how it was encouraged for everybody to do it in whatever way they feel the most comfortable. Mine will simply be by the “Text” page of Tumblr.   I’m afraid I’ve never had the unique talent in fan art or tribute video making.  Yet even before I found out about this fantastic HTTYD themed project.  I always hoped to create a post in which I could share my love for this franchise with other devoted fans.  And why it means so much to me. So once more, thank you @hello-em75 for conceiving this brilliant idea. It’s not about competing against other fans. Instead it is about everyone diving into their personal stories with the franchise and keep supporting all the fans who are shy about their love for it to speak out. We all want to hear what everybody has to say.  No pressure to be concerned it won’t be good enough in comparison to anybody else’s level.   Only share how you feel. I just love it! 

My story in being introduced to How to Train Your Dragon was back in February 2010.  I was 21 at the time.  Always been an animated film lover.  I won’t deny that my fiber stemmed from mainstream studios. Even still, I was always up for traveling off the beaten path.  Found some spectacular hidden gems. DreamWorks has quite a few of those.  Be that as it may, I never would have predicted the film I was about to see would create such an impact on my life.  I saw the trailer and thought to myself “ What an interesting film. I wonder if it will share the same DNA with another DreamWorks film? Spirit: Stallion of the Cimmeron.”  

Needless to say it became far more then an “interesting film”.  My soul was re-awakened! I say that without of any kind of irony or exaggeration.  I’ll first address that this was the film that introduced me to the value of 3-D format. Nope it was not another famous  record breaking box office hit.  How to Train Your Dragon was the one who changed my perspective of how this can benefit a story on screen.  Rather then manufacture it as the sole reason to see a film.  I was engaged from beginning to end. 

One of the main reasons the story appealed to me was how it synonymously displayed it’s lead character as someone who was identifiable and admirable. There were uncanny traits Hiccup and I have in common.  Sometimes it felt borderline identical.  It was as if the filmmakers had been clandestine in studying many of my struggles and displayed them on screen for the world to see. A medium that has done a swell job at bringing to light self identity issues people from all walks of life grapple with.  Yet his resilience and resourcefulness despite being an outcast in his society is commend worthy.  And that was well before we even reach the middle of the first film.  This was already becoming a consolation piece of fiction for me. 

Then they bring in Toothless.  A character that in it’s roots is exceedingly difficult at earning sympathy from the audience.  Animal driven films in animation have a notorious history of dividing movie goers.  If they talk it seems cliche.  The redundant corny trademark people roll their eyes at.  If they don’t talk, the audience sees them as mere props for the human characters in their story.  They can’t resonate with the audience as they don’t know how exactly to relate to their plights if it is not verbally stated.  It becomes even more staggeringly challenging as he is a dragon.  For fiction has a long history for interpreting these fantasy creatures in the villain bracket.  Even author G.K Chesterton made a significant point on what their role was in literature.  “Fairy Tales don’t tell us dragons exists. We already know they exist.  But that they can be beaten and killed.”  The filmmakers of this franchise took a bold risk at turning this classic notion on it’s head.  Hoping the audience would be willing to surrender to their story.  That by using a different but equally classic adage of “The eyes are the window to the soul” the audience would understand and sympathize with Toothless as much as any human character.  Now Toothless to this day still has his detractors from professional critics and amateur movie buffs alike.  Regardless of that, he has touched my heart beyond compare! He is a fully realized character who is multifaceted and has his own dilemmas. 

Book series author Cressida Cowell, directors/screenwriters Dean DeBlois and Chris Saunders are so brave for taking this chance in creating a dragon themed narrative that is not about conquering a monster as a ritual in transitioning into adulthood.  But about the obstacles of earning trust from a creature that is long ingrained in everyone’s mind is apart of evil forces who live to bring humans emotional torment.  Sure this franchise is not the first to explore this theme.  And nobody on the creative team tried to take credit for it.  They all openly acknowledged their inspirations and thanked them for it allowed them to take a closer inspection of why it is rarely explored in text or on screen.  What they did though was unconventional (in terms of mainstream studio features)  in it’s own right.  

At it’s core is a love story.  Not the typical owner and pet fictional iteration.  A genuine brotherhood team love story. One that requires slower pacing.  Another risk the creative team was willing to gamble on.  Earning trust is not immediate.  Mainly being Hiccup’s goal to prove he is not a social leper. He initially intends to kill Toothless. His own unique empathy for Toothless leaving him conflicted.  He does not grasp why he is ashamed of what his tribe does despite all of the rules and regulations drilled into his conditioning.   But his conscious tells him otherwise. It is wrong to murder this frightened creature. He deserves to be released unharmed.  A travesty to the Viking culture he grew up in. Hiccup freeing Toothless then Toothless sparing Hiccup’s life is a shocker! Neither quite comprehends why they just gave their sworn enemy a second chance at life. But this question is an internal odyssey Hiccup is willing to take. 

Hiccup did not dive in head first expecting  Toothless to cuddle up to him and offer him a ride on his back.  This had to be a gradual process.  Trial and error. Repetition and reinforcement.  Compassion and respect.  All of these features were crucial of guiding their story about strangers who met under negative circumstances and would later become brothers in arms.  The filmmakers shamelessly display every bit of this.  Hiccup and Toothless unexpectedly become dependent on each other.  Hiccup needs to brainstorm and invent contraptions as to feel worthwhile as his upbringing as has gone awry.  Brute strength and fast reflexes are not in his being.   Toothless needs to fly to survive. Navigating from island to island in the archipelago.   They each believe their purpose is to make it by in a society that wishes to subjugate them.  They just want as little confrontation as possible.  The chance encounter of Hiccup trapping Toothless with his own version of a catapult and him later venturing into the forest of Berk to find him was the beginning of their “Forbidden Friendship”.  Hiccup and Toothless alike always knew they were misfits. But neither ever dreamed of having the agency of seeking someone or something out who could potentially be like them.  They both believed they were all alone in the world. That is why I find their journey so rewarding to watch! 

They never expected to find one another.  Let alone feel so joyfully fulfilled.   This in turn was why I was so emotionally caught up watching the films.  In particular the first one.  Pretty much everything they do contradict’s their society’s dictation.  Their lives are literally in danger by merely engaging with the other presence.  Their secret of knowing and allying with one another is a secret that casts as much liberation as it does a burden.  They can be themselves when alone together. Exploring new ideas and places. Yet Hiccup’s tribe is acutely aware something is off.  Initially believing that he is inadvertently discovering dragon weaknesses that could lead to concocting a plan to eradicate all dragons.  Hiccup’s time with Toothless runs dangerously low.  My heart was in my throat with dread they would be separated from each other.  Hiccup and Toothless together gives them a purpose to live! I wanted them to live happily together and in harmony in their society. 

Such a love story is often over hyped and I could care less as is has their characters saying a bunch of frivolous dialogue with empty gestures.   Love is proven through consistent actions.  The hardships Hiccup and Toothless would have to painfully face head on to reach a happy end was not glided over.  The creative team was not shy about offering it’s share of agonizing lows.  Hiccup’s self-esteem dropping to practically zero.  Same goes for Toothless.  I still can not get over how blatantly the filmmakers do that to these precious characters. It’s so harrowing it hits me every single time.  Yet these emotions happen in reality.  These fantasy animated films are a mirror to it.   No happy ending is worth getting if  the characters don’t hit rock bottom.  

This is precisely what this entire franchise stands for and why it has become my all time favorite piece of fiction. It is as emotionally draining as it is fulfilling.  And I want to keep returning to them.  Both films have this in spades!  For me personally this is is so rare to watch a film that has all three of these qualities.  But the HTTYD franchise still had unexplained factors I can’t wrap my mind around  that it stands above anything else I have ever come across.  All I know for certain is that it is special.   And I am forever grateful to have discovered it.  

Also a huge shout out to Animation screencaps for these! They alone can define this beautiful under-rated love story.   :)  

#httydtome #How to Train Your Dragon Franchise #Under-rated Love Story #How to Train Your Dragon Fandom #How to Train Your Dragon Trilogy #Hiccup and Toothless #Share Post

[boiledleather]

‘The Last Jedi’ Is the Worst ‘Star Wars’ Movie, but Its Haters and Stans Are Both Wrong About Why

Star Wars: The Last Jedi mind-tricked its audience. As if in homage to the galaxy in which the film is set—divided as it is between the Dark Side and the Light—Rian Johnson’s 2017 installment in the saga sparked the most preposterously binary set of responses to a franchise film in recent memory. Read about this continuation of the Disney-owned sequel trilogy (begun and soon to be ended by J.J. Abrams) and you’ll quickly feel the pull of two opposing Forces, demanding allegiance. Broadly speaking: Is it a heartbreaking work of staggering genius that redeems the Star Wars concept by having the courage to toss it aside, or is it a million childhoods suddenly crying out in terror and then suddenly silenced…by incipient white genocide?

I say it’s neither, and man am I tired of having to say it, but before I see Solo I’ll give it one last shot. The Last Jedi is my least favorite Star Wars movie by far, but not for any of the reasons most of its detractors cite, nor for those against which its champions array their defenses. The misogynistic bigots whose response to the film is essentially “Why isn’t there a White History Month” will have to settle for running all three branches of government; they won’t get me to agree that a story driven by vivid and charismatic characters played by natural-born movie stars Daisy Ridley, John Boyega, Oscar Isaac, Adam Driver, and Domnhall Gleeson—the best things either TLJ or its immediate predecessor The Force Awakens have going for them—represent the collapse of the West. Nor am I going to agree to their terms of debate the way so many proponents of the film have, acting as though hidebound nostalgia at best and bald-faced reactionary fury at worst are the only reasons to take issue with this movie. The Last Jedi has its moments, but its faults are many—and too often obscured by the Sith vs. Jedi nature of the debate surrounding it.

Right up front, let’s forget the idea that TLJ represents some bold act of iconoclasm—a creatively courageous attempt to unmoor the franchise from nostalgia. There’s a substratum of angry nerds who think believe this and hate it, and a separate group of critics and critic-adjacent people online who believe this and love it. I really don’t know how either group comes to this conclusion about what is, after all, the ninth Star Wars movie. It’s got dark lords and chosen ones, lightsabers and Star Destroyers, cute aliens and cute droids, you name it. Rey’s parentage may have been rendered a non-issue (in a desultory rip-off of the mirror sequence from The Never-ending Story, but whatever), but Kylo Ren is still the biological descendent of the main characters from both of the previous trilogies. And this is the guy—the bad guy, might I add—who utters the “let the past die” mantra so many critics and detractors alike seem to have taken to heart as the film’s mission statement. Again, this is the ninth Star Wars movie. If you want to let the past die, go watch or make a film that doesn’t co-star characters who debuted 40 years earlier.

To the extent that writer-director Rian Johnson did wipe the slate clean, the effect was not a healthy one. Dispensing with the pattern established by all the other movies, Johnson resumes the action right where The Force Awakens leaves off. Leia, Poe, Finn, C-3PO, BB-8, and the rest of the Resistance core are still on their home base from the previous film; so little time has elapsed that they’re still waiting for the First Order to show up and chase them out of there when the movie begins. Elsewhere, Rey and Luke’s storyline resumes mid-conversation. Because of this, our first images of our heroes take place in places we’ve already seen, rather than dropping us head-first into new ones—not even the familiar desert/forest/ice archetypes of The Force Awakens, which were at least different planets than the ones from the original trilogy, if not different types of planets.

The bulk of the story takes place on Luke’s island, a couple of spaceships, and finally a single patch of a desert planet that simply substitutes salt for sand and adds a little red dust for flair. The plot concerns Rey trying and failing to convince Luke to get up off his ass and Kylo Ren and General Hux picking off Resistance ships one by one, Battlestar Galactica–style (to put the resemblance kindly, though if you called it a knockoff I wouldn’t object). Mysteries aren’t so much solved as canceled: Rey’s parents are nobodies (a theoretically interesting idea delivered in perfunctory fashion) and the mysterious Supreme Leader Snoke gets jobbed out before displaying a single interesting characteristic except being unusually tall and having cool red wallpaper. The film ends with the characters hiding in an abandoned garage some guy’s trying to break into, pretty much.

In short, this is the first Star Wars movie in which the world feels smaller at the end of the movie than it did at the beginning. It’s an attritional film, one that whittles away until only a tiny fragment remains. The manic thrill of discovery and creation that made the original trilogy so culture-changingly compelling—and which makes the much-maligned prequel trilogy, which you can read persuasive defenses of here and here, a gloriously weird work of art on the Speed Racer level if nothing else—is almost entirely absent. (Almost: the trip made by Finn and his new ally Rose to that casino planet has that wild and woolly feeling to it, which paradoxically may be why people dislike it; Leia’s Force-enabled spacewalk is a poor substitute for getting to see her with a lightsaber in her hand but it’s still good audience-rousing fun; the Porgs, of course, are perfection. But that’s thin gruel to spread across two and a half hours of running time.)

This is the first half of my lengthy essay for Decider on why I don’t like The Last Jedi. I just got so sick of seeing the debate, both pro and con sides, framed entirely in terms set by bigots or “my childhood!!!” types, and wanted to open up other lines of criticism and inquiry. Click here to read the rest.

#star wars #the last jedi #star wars: the last jedi #star wars episode viii: the last jedi #episode viii #star wars episode viii #sean t. collins #decider

[permian-tropos]

comparing someone who doesn't like a movie to the alt-right is kinda...mean. considering those very same people might be the victims of the alt-right.

I appreciate your concern, but I’m not talking about people who don’t like a movie. Every single “here’s why TLJ was garbage” post and youtube video and twitter rant is valid (except when it’s bigotry). You watched the movie, you had an opinion, your opinion is real.

Here’s the connection to the alt-right. 1) The alt-right formed a campaign to pull people in and tell them “the things you hate about this movie are because the cultural Marxists want to kill the things you love and promote minorities and women”. People who could be swayed by this are not the bulk of the TLJ antis on tumblr! But their reasons for hating the movie diffuse into the main hate mob and that mob amplifies the alt-right agenda BECAUSE… 2) the alt-right’s tactics have been used, excused, enabled by the specific “people who didn’t like the movie” I’m criticizing. 

Ad hominem attacks on creators, standing by while these attacks happen because they give vicarious pleasure or because one can’t bring oneself to care, victim-blaming (saying Jason Fry and Pablo Hidalgo, who did not write TLJ, “brought it on themselves” for simply being there when the evil Rian Johnson made reylo ambiguous), and not trying to find any good things in the film like

*clears throat* 

the casting of a Vietnamese-American actress to play a character whose backstory reflects the Vietnam War, identifying the capitalist war machine as the real enemy, giving an arc for every POC that wasn’t about them supporting a white character (white characters were supporting their arcs), criticizing elitism and the idea your bloodline makes you special, never sexually objectifying Rey or any other female character don’t argue this okay being in a sexually charged situation is not the same as objectification there are subjects as well as objects and if you forgot what eyecandy for men looks like please refer to Emilia Clarke’s character in Solo, having a female character who isn’t white and also isn’t thin…

You see, none of these individual things deserve to be swept under the hate rug because no movie will replicate everything TLJ did good and everything TLJ did bad. No one has to express any overall love for the movie to make it known that these elements are good and should be repeated elsewhere! 

People think that if they hate the movie loud enough, Lucasfilm will listen to them re: POC, queer rep, depicting healthy romantic relationships, etc. But they are not the loudest detractors, and if LF takes criticism into account, they’ll start with the reactionaries, not with the progressives. They’ll remove the women and POC and push right-wing messages. 

This idea of “you can’t compare them to the alt-right” comes from false equivalency about the morality of people’s causes. It comes from people using allegations of hypocrisy to discredit the oppressed standing up to oppressors. I’m not thinking of this as hypocrisy, and I’m not trying to discredit the cause of social justice. And I will defend victims of the alt-right against the alt-right! Good thing Star Wars Episode 8 The Last Jedi isn’t alt-right. When the alt-right tried to co-opt Marvel’s Black Panther, claiming it was pro-ethnostate, they were obviously full of shit, but it tells me that they see Marvel’s politics as a better entry point. They don’t want to disown Marvel, they want to co-opt it. But they want to disown Star Wars. Disney owns both Marvel and SW so I wouldn’t be surprised if they let one be more overall conservative and one be more overall liberal to rake in both audiences. It’s all a machine, partner. But at the very least we don’t have to get confused about which is left and which is right. 

I spent a lot of time listening to TLJ critical opinions because I thought there must be something I’m missing. But something I could not deny was happening as I revisited the film over and over:

- The movie was making me sympathize with Kylo less, and take less interest in the villains overall. 

- The movie made me more actively appreciative of the Resistance side. 

- I was more intrigued by every character who was “sidelined” or “not treated right”. 

- I was becoming fascinated over and over by ideas the movie seemed to be conveying, and the more I looked for meaning, the more I found it.

- Literally every agenda that the detractors claimed the movie was pushing was the opposite of what the movie was doing to me. Either the movie was having this effect on me accidentally, or it was a good movie that richly conveyed its point. 

No, I don’t intend to be mean to anyone. I intend to critique actions I think are self-defeating. 

None of us should ever assume that all our actions are rational self interest. And besides the fact that the comparisons to the alt-right seem apt here, how else am I suppose to communicate “I think you’re unintentionally doing something wrong here” if I don’t say “people who mean you harm do this thing on purpose”?

You’re basically telling me, and I understand this point, “don’t assume you know better than them, maybe they’re right and you’re wrong”. And you know what, I would hate to act against my own interests here! My interests and most of the liberal TLJ detractors’ interests are aligned. I’m going to assume, though, that I’m not presenting manipulative or well-poisoning or truth-obscuring ideas. Since you’ve come with concerns that my statements have been harmful (ie. that they disparage victims of bigotry as “the same” as their oppressors), I hope this longer post addresses that.

I also think the mentality on tumblr that “victims can’t be victimizers” or “victims can’t make mistakes” is deeply flawed. I think we should all respect and pay attention to what marginalized groups say about their own experiences. But when it comes to solutions, I look to people of marginalized groups who have expertise. I will consider the opinions of random tumblr users but I won’t adhere to them as superior insight. I can’t assume they’re experts because I’m not an expert in things that victimize me!

And I don’t look to Star Wars fan discourse for the most complete picture on systemic oppression.

Call this a wild conclusion but if victimizing groups of people didn’t disrupt their ability to advocate for themselves and have solidarity with each other, and instead made them extremely good at those things, would systemic oppression ever work? 

#my post #asks #no I don't think this ask has a very nuanced criticism but I understand its concern #and I'll take it in good faith #tlj discourse #long post

[nitratestock]

One by one, like a painful slow drip from a finite source, we lose people to time, people who contributed positively to the world in ways political, artistic, scientific. One by one. Considering the sum total is simply too great, we need stagger. For those who share my year of birth by a margin of three years give or take on either side, we’ve been lucky. Lucky in the sense that the stagger has been long and wide. Over the last decade we’ve lost some important people, particularly important to our early life, the exit of our single digits and the early part of our teens. Early on I was crushed by the death of Sidney Lumet, in 2011, a giant of the film community. I wrote about his passing back then, at the point of worst emotional pain, as bad as one can feel without being a family member or close friend. Since then we’ve lost Cimino. We’ve lost Nichols. We’ve lost Varda. We’ve lost Akerman. We’ve lost Hooper and Romero. As we brine in our Gen X jar, we unfortunately transition from sniper fire to machine gun spray. Legato becomes staccato. People of my age group watch in horror as heroes depart. It’s no different of any other age group, perhaps only more enhanced by the increased prevalence of mass media over the course of the last century and into ours. Distance and folklore becomes nearness and screens. In either case we involve ourselves in the lives of others, in ways good and bad. At worst we connect through this urge to pillory those who are guilty of our very same sins. At best, we mourn the passing of a public figure we’ve come to acknowledge, without their knowledge, as a friend. Hopefully out of benevolent interest, that last part.

So I say with the melancholy of a film fanatic that came of age in the 80’s and the heft of a life, if averages count, mostly lived at this point, that the recent passing of one Alan Parker left me despondent. Perhaps not for the fate of the world, but definitely for the fate of film as a malleable form that might struggle with the twin purposes of art and commerce and succeed somehow. Film fanatics, or as I prefer to refer to myself and others, Cinegeeks, often find themselves drawn to figures within the film world considered 2nd or 3rd tier interviews, whose body of work might contain two or three masterpieces amongst a body of mediocrity, or who might have a mostly or even highly successful box office record but never get critical acclaim. Fanatics like to champion the underdog. It’s our nature. To a degree Alan Parker found himself in this category. Partially because his CV didn’t fit neatly into the Auteur Theory folder. Partially because he didn’t play the normal Hollywood game. It’s sometimes overlooked that the boldest outsiders during that New Hollywood era knew how to play the studio/PR angle and did so like sawing a harp from hell. I’m looking at YOU, Coppola and Scorsese.

Parker had artistic ambitions, some would even say pretentious ambitions, and yet I defy anyone to observe his body of work and not see a blue-collar hardscrabble mentality etching away at the base of all his films. He failed sometimes, but in all endeavors he struggled not just to ensure proper light diffusion, but to connect the audience to the scene that was unfolding and the characters within all of that art direction and brilliant cinematography. In his debut feature, the cult classic BUGSY MALONE, he invited audiences to indulge in the lark of basically watching an updated Little Rascals film as whipped-cream St. Valentine’s massacre. With an infectious soundtrack by Paul Williams. And it worked and still works. In MIDNIGHT EXPRESS, he sought nothing less than to put you through the Turkish prison system at its most barbaric. And damn, did he succeed. In FAME, he sought to enroll you in La Guardia High, the School for the Performing Arts, partially ushered in by one Mr. Lumet, and he brought you into the NYC streets to join the dance. In SHOOT THE MOON, he dragged you through the broken glass and nails that is a brutal divorce. Most critics still feel it’s the film that’ll never be topped on that topic. And yeah. It’s punishing to this day.

That’s just his first four films. He followed MOON in the same year with his cinematic distillation of PINK FLOYD’S THE WALL, as ambitious, reckless, insane, obtuse and inspiring as any art film dared to be. He waged one of the bravest, constant battles between the band, their label, his studio and the inevitable lash or backlash from the critics and the crowds as any director dared in that decade, which had now, even by 1992, belonged to Reagan and Thatcher’s crowd. It worked, it was a success on its own terms. It stood with QUADROPHENIA as one of the few successful adaps of a “RockOpera” to screen. And it would serve as an insanely influential piece of cinema/album mashup. I can’t think of another film that’s even attempted to match it to this day.

Parker’s true gift was that of exploration, and this was evinced by his sojourn from cinematic genre to cinematic genre. Like great directors before him, he felt the need to examine and exult in them all. He turned after 1982’s twin trials to what many referred to as William Wharton’s “un-filmable” novel. Parker found a way to film it, and in the process crafted a minor masterpiece, and the first film in his American Gothic trilogy. BIRDY is about so many things; the horror of war, the futility of grand romantic dreams, the last days of glorious, unweighted childhood. It succeeds in all those ambitions, but what it is squarely about is the healing power of friendship, of that bond between brothers that even the trauma of battle cannot best. He accomplished this in two different time periods and two different venues; the 60’s early and late, as disparate as a decade could get from itself; then the wide, economically depressed funland expanse of post-WW2 Brooklyn, against the claustrophobic, chiaroscuro lit cell of the VA, where the only shadow to hide within lies beneath the mottled cot. All of Parker’s CV can be described as character studies of one form or another. Here he began a three film sojourn into America’s pockets, its secret soul and even its original sins. He’d leave the punishing abandonment of what once was the City of Brooklyn as it stood circa 1962, for a far more insidious and painful abandonment, one of a whole swath of the country and of its stolen populace.

ANGEL HEART was ostensibly a mashup of horror and noir, a neat trick that any successful director would’ve been drawn to, especially in the MTV 80’s, a music video era (greatly inspired by directors like Parker, I might add) that found itself drawing on the tropes of past cinema genres in a highly stylized way. The synopsis implies a simple morality tale, a private eye hired by a seemingly nefarious talent agent to track down the client who’s eluded him. Perhaps by supernatural means. Parker expanded on the location by quickly resetting the action from Brooklyn to New Orleans, after a quick trip through Harlem. White culture has to answer to and for black culture in America, and Parker employed this almost caricature smoke-and-topcoat shamus to do this investigation. There is great butchery in ANGEL HEART, which I’ve always believed reps the butchery of slavery and the Jim Crow era. There are bold implications and terrible consequences for what we now term “cultural appropriation”, from Johnny Favorite’s Depression-era crooner stealing from black artists to the Krusemark’s adoption of the patchwork voodoo religion. Above all, there is guilt. There is a clear through line, as clear as Capt. Willard’s river to Kurtz, toward White America’s brutality, ongoing. Harry is our surrogate, should we choose. He goes on his own journey of discovery that becomes, unwittingly and surely unwillingly, one of SELF-discovery. His final manic, desperate denial is the same as any who enjoy white privilege to this day while at the same time being wholly unaware of it: I know who I am. If ANGEL HEART is the one he’s going to be remembered for, I believe it’s this subtext, unplanned or otherwise, that will allow it the test of time well over the brilliant cinematography and perhaps Mickey Rourke’s finest performance. Parker would next attempt to expand on this subtext and present it as text, with very, VERY mixed reactions.

MISSISSIPPI BURNING was a project begun with noble intent, I believe. In an era where white men still got to tell the black narrative in America. While I forgive a lot of the film’s dramatic license, I fully agree with its detractors as well. 1988 was a tipping point for tone-deafness in the film industry. Had Parker made BURNING a decade or so prior, it might enjoy a better rep in the context of its time. The end of the 80’s demanded better. I’m a fan of this film, as a film, not as a history. In the same way I’m a fan of well-crafted cinematic narratives that have dated very poorly. The tragedy of MISSISSIPPI BURNING is not just that he made so well-crafted a film at a point in the timeline when something more inclusive, honest, and better representative of history was possible, it’s that he chose fiction for fiction’s sake. Nevertheless, it was the second and final Oscar nomination for direction he’d receive.

Parker remained in this wheelhouse of American guilt for 20th century wrong-doing. COME SEE THE PARADISE was an earnest attempt to depict, to REMIND America really, of the awful Japanese internment camps of the WW2 years, the venerable FDR’s greatest sin. At the height of his filmmaking powers he was unerring in his balance between stylistic pursuit and substance. Alas, with this effort and his previous, glow softened suffer, and the heart of the tale proved elusive as a result.

Maybe he had a moment of clarity then, after these ambitious but perhaps stultifying efforts, and decided to return to a genre that had stood him in good stead. Parker turned to the homespun Celtic kick of Roddy Doyle and decided to create a real-life soul/funk/r&b band from scratch for THE COMMITMENTS, which most will agree is his last great film, though his later fare has its champions, and fair play to them. For a director so well known for his meticulous prep and focus he fared incredibly well in filming wild abandon. Maybe it was a mode he needed to consciously shift into gear for, but once there he cooked quite a stew. The film delighted both critics and audiences, and also helped re-start a soul music resurgence, helped in no little way by the film’s pre-fab ensemble, who’d take to the road for a series of live shows with various members of the celluloid iteration in tow. Some might argue that he retreated to a stance that shied from his previous inquiries regarding the separation of cultures white and other, and the theft perpetrated by one on the other, and in doing crafted so populist an entertainment as to render the argument moot. That’s a fair assessment. Some others might argue that a truthful, passionate depiction of people inspired by others different from their living experience, plaintively plying their art, is honest work as well, no matter their skin color. The debate won’t go away. And it shouldn’t. In terms of moviemaking, though, Parker had fired on all cylinders. Perhaps for the last time.

The remaining decade-plus of his work was, in most estimations, workmanlike, with the odd Parker flourish here and there recognizable to his fans. THE ROAD TO WELLVILLE was an eccentric choice as follow-up, and also as navigation through the early days of a new and unsure decade (He’d already travelled the biz director-driven, to producer-driven, and was now in the who-the-hell’s-driving 90’s). It features several fine performances, from recent and deserved Oscar winner Anthony Hopkins to the still-finding-their-way Matthew Broderick and John Cusack, and its huckster-health theme does still resonate, or at least it SHOULD, as well today as then as late 19th century. If it ultimately found no target to spear, it remains a well crafted and intentioned work. EVITA was no sleepwalk-to the-Oscar gig, even though the resulting film is at best assessed as a dreamily-hued mess. Parker took on the challenge of a legendary broadway smash, one that Hollywood had been desperate to film for well over a decade. A lesser director would’ve turned the camera on and yelled “Sing!”. But Parker was one of the few who’d found success in the post-studio era with one of its warhorse genres, the musical, which had diminished, and decidedly felled such giants as Coppola and Bogdanovich at their peak or near-peak. It’s a noble effort, if it comes up short. It’s not quite empty Oscar-bait, but it’s well shy of a film with a purpose. He either directed or was gifted a great Antonio Banderas perf, and he did his damnedest with Madonna, which is sorta the theme of her career don’t send hate mail. He got a hard-won, decent turn out of her, perhaps not the magnetic dying star that the role demanded, but an actor giving her all. That’s still worth something, even if they’re miscast. For further evidence I direct you toward Matt Damon in THE TALENTED MR. RIPLEY.

And here’s the part that I always hate to talk about. Parker was a director who, in my estimation, never sought validation, but always inspiration. It’s the source of his greatest works, and they remain some of the greatest of the post-studio years. He took his best swipe at an unlikely best-seller, Frank McCourt’s wildly successful but impossibly depressing ANGELA’S ASHES. Like EVITA, it had “prestige” built into it. Like EVITA, it was a package deal. Like EVITA, the studio expected some love from the Academy at the end of the day. I feel like Parker was thwarted from the start, tasked with this take of utter poverty and despondency while asked to chase the gold. Had the book come out sometime early in his career, had he discovered it and championed it, and then saw it through production and release, we may have been gifted something along the lines of a Ken Loach or even Buñuel at his most honest. The gilt and geld of the Hollywood studios, especially at that time competing with the newly-found prestige of the indies, precluded any chance at that, despite next-level perfs from Stephen Rea and Emily Watson. It’s a not-unworthy effort to seek out, especially if you're a Parker fan, but in some ways it may have signaled his ultimate abandonment of this art form. Maybe he felt he’d said enough. Maybe he felt he wouldn’t be allowed to say his piece on his terms anymore. Maybe he looked ahead at filmmaking in the new millennium and decided he’d not update his passport to this new continent. For reasons we never fully received, Parker was leaving.

His last film would be THE LIFE OF DAVID GALE, an anti-capital punishment screed that felt out of joint, and not due to the lack of effort from its stars, Kate Winslet and Christopher Plummer. But it’s an aimless effort, deprived of any real bite on a subject molten to a wide swath of the citizenry. It was met with mixed box office and mixed reviews. It left with nary a trace. And then, whether we realized it or not, so did Alan Parker.

It seemed to be a welcome retirement. At least in my following of my filmmaker heroes. I don’t believe I saw one item, one gossip piece, about a new Alan Parker project, about a studio extending him an offer on a prestige or even indie film. He popped up as interview subject and fairly frequently, and seemed to enjoy his status as thus. He’d crafted a remarkable body of work, and by all witness enjoyed remarking on it. He occasionally served as mentor, as when Christopher Nolan reached out to him. He’d definitely serve as defense attorney, especially when the subject of Mickey Rourke came up. He absolutely and most magnificently served as beacon to a whole generation of film lovers and future filmmakers, kids who were desperate in the corporate/production team/CAA 80’s to cling to films of their generation they could call their own. At a time when art and the so-called “auteur” was a dirty word in Hollywood he was able to put the work he’d crafted into your head and into your heart. I’m not sure if we’re gonna see another Alan Parker, and he’d be most upset by that notion, but if you’re reading this, and you find this possibility unacceptable, go grab a camera and be another Alan Parker. We’re waiting.

[kissmyflash]

Belle’s Story - The Misogyny of Devin Faraci, the Alamo & Working as a Female Film Critic

After my story went public I offered my blog to be used for any other woman who was targeted by Devin Faraci, the Alamo Drafthouse, or misogyny within the film community at large. I promised that I would allow them to stay anonymous, and simply print their own experiences in their own words. Today I received an email from a woman asking to have her story heard. It is her hope that by being the first to come forward anonymously others might be empowered to do the same. For the purpose of keeping each story straight they will be given an alias inspired by a character in film.

This story is from “Belle”* (*it should be noted the point of these stories is not to try to name the woman, but to hear her story. Please don’t try to “figure it out”.) I wrote for a number of outlets, more years ago now than I care to count. 

The tale of my days of film journalism are depressing and sordid. Sexism and misogyny isn't just rampant, it defined every interaction.  For example, editor has a plus one, and he offers it to you. "You can come as my date." "Or I can come as your friend?" "You can come as my date." Oh, and he's married. Once, I was very upset at a nasty, sexist comment left in my comment field calling me "a fucking gash." I begged them to delete it, and ban the user. "Sweetie, it's not like it is racism." And yes, I blasted him for calling me sweetie. I put up with it for my entire, short career thinking “Well, it’s just locker room talk and I want people to think I’m cool, so I won’t let it bother me.”  And then you realize no, it’s the reality and when you reject these guys, you’re done.  To confront them was to be told they were joking and be gaslamped into thinking they had harassed you at all. Faraci and I were, I thought, friends. He reached out to me in my early days, and I was beyond thrilled and flattered.  He was a big name. He championed my work, he encouraged people to read me on Twitter and I really thought he was one of the good guys. I constantly defended him against detractors, quoted his scoops and gave him press. In my view, most of my colleagues were unpleasant guys who couldn’t say a nice word about me or my work, routinely harassed me and exposed me to harassment, but were happy to call themselves feminists. Faraci, on the other hand, was a vocal defender who would call out the trolls they wouldn’t.  And we all mimicked his snarky, bully tone. He set the voice for film criticism at that time. Faraci and I hung out at events. Very friendly. He flirted and complimented, and I felt like I saw this sad, sensitive side of him that he didn’t let on to many people.  I remember messaging him and telling him something encouraging about his weight, and he thanked me and said I was very sweet.  Again, I appreciated his support and camaraderie on a very cruel Internet. I already detailed my exceedingly polite rejection of his advances (to the Daily Beast). What I'd like to stress was how nauseated I was the next day -- not only from the alcohol but what almost happened.  I thought well, today will be awkward but I am sure he’ll be cool about it.  We’re adults, we were drinking, it happens and we are friends. But he never spoke to me again. Not on the set visit itself, not after, never again.  He unfollowed me on Twitter. He shunned me.  We could be in the same room together, and he wouldn’t make eye contact or say hi, I was completely invisible.  It was beyond uncomfortable and hurtful. What happened was not rape or assault, but I felt like garbage. I was made to feel as if I'd done something wrong.  Of course, it was nowhere near the level of assault or even harassment, but as a woman, it gets really tiring to feel BAD for not having sex with someone. And it never really went away.  In my last gig,writing for yet another editor who assumed his own female staff was fair game, I was told “Well, see, I was told you fucked Faraci.” I’ve never known where that piece of gossip originated. Devin himself?  The editor who called me up on that fateful set visit, heard Devin in the background, and said he’d tell everyone I slept with him before cackling and hanging up? Even when I myself went to work for a branch of the Alamo, and Faraci KNEW I worked for his same company, he still shunned me. It was a pretty blatant snub, and one that didn’t exactly go unnoticed.  Drafthouse patrons knew me and my work.  I’d be called out at dish pit because they recognized my voice from podcasts.  “Why don’t you write for BMD?”   “Eh, not interested."  It's conjecture as to why, but i felt strongly that one rejection was the reason. Amusingly, he once passed me in the hallway of Drafthouse while I was carrying dirty dishes, and actually said hi, but it was because he didn’t recognize me at all.  I joked about it with some friends — as I recall, I made a Les Miserables joke about having fallen so far into the gutter that my old colleagues didn’t even recognize me. Devin heard about it, and was angry that I hadn’t identified myself. When I reached out and said “Well, it was me, hi Devin,” he never even acknowledged me. There is simply no way Tim League didn’t know about Devin’s so-called dark side, or ever believed he was some sturdy feminist.  Faraci’s work on CHUD was full of T&A and oogling. He proudly shared a video clip of himself gawking at Scarlett Johannson’s butt.  He had a profile picture of himself looking down a Medieval Times wench’s dress — and it was the replacement for the profile picture of himself gaping at a booth babe who was wearing nothing but duct tape. This was Devin.  This is all of online film culture, this is the Drafthouse.  When they introduced their new female programmer, who was set to focus on girl friendly programming, her official Drafthouse photo was of her in tiny underwear/shorts, sucking on a lollypop in her pink bedroom. I should stress that I’ve never interacted with League directly. I worked a franchise, so we had our own GM and owners. There has been a lot of ugliness with the Alamo’s franchising, and just what League will claim to have knowledge of or direct action in.  I do know that Tim seems to have a persistent death wish to keep bad blood around. I had a lot of fun working for the Drafthouse initially.  I started before they even broke ground, and helped them run their outdoor events publicizing their theatre. I loved everything they stood for.  When they opened officially, I applied to work as a server. That’s how badly I wanted in. But, to my delight, my past efforts for them were remembered and I was moved from food to programming. For its first summer, I was basically its creative department, though “officially unofficial." I had confidence this nebulous position would be permanent. One day, the boss calls me up and tells me he is hiring a new Creative Manager, and I’d have a new boss. I was never offered the position, told it was open, nothing. He listed the candidates he'd rejected -- one of whom, he complained, never showed up to the events that were meant to be his audition. These were events I had worked -- I'd organized them! Why weren't they my audition? Now, to be entirely impartial, maybe I wasn't a good fit. Maybe they were dissatisfied with my work. I had never been given that feedback or impression, though. Quite the opposite. The distinct feeling I had was "You're not the bearded guy who is our audience." And sure enough, I walked in one day and I had no job. But, I was still loyal! I happily went to work at box office. And I scrubbed their bathrooms and wood paneling.  Anything to stay within the Drafthouse and hope I could work back up to a creative or programming position.  Not surprisingly, that never happened and due to the abusive management, I quit. Amusingly, when I needed a second chance from the Alamo — and had been promised I would always be welcome  — I was told they would not renew their relationship with me.  Second chances are not, it seems, for everyone. Now, it's probably unfair to say that in that I have no relationship with League. He didn't personally reject me. I’m sure he doesn’t know the particulars.Yet he always knew when our bathrooms were shut down for cleaning, and would fire off an email wanting them reopened within the hour.   But that’s the mystery of League and the Drafthouse. Somehow, no one is in charge when someone is getting hurt, and a lot of people got hurt there.  Somehow League is “above it all,” too big for the daily grind of the Drafthouse, except when suddenly he isn’t. This probably reads like I have an axe to grind…and hey, I do. It has eaten at me for years that one factor that separated me from terrific gigs was that I didn’t sleep with the right people or wasn't the typical Drafthouse dude.  Was it the only factor? No. But it's the one that shouldn't even exist in the 21st century. It makes me angry that Faraci is not the only predator, and that all of these guys still have great gigs while many were forced into new lines of work. It is appalling to me that Faraci's superiors felt that non-movie work wasn't good enough for someone of his stature.  Plenty of talented writers are working food and retail. Many juggled these jobs while writing because the pay was so poor. Why was he better than anyone else? And that is a question that lingers like a stink over the whole field. Look at the female voices in comparison to the male. Ask why so many women, who were so prominent in the early days of online film writing, are gone now.  Ask why the same guys get chances again and again. Faraci is not the only offender, but the fact that he WAS one for so long says volumes about who he is, the world he works in, what the Drafthouse enables.

#film #hollywood #the daily beast #misogyny #feminism #sexism

[bansheemilktales]

Proof You Are A Dummy If You Think Jack Nicholson Is Overrated

          People make too big of a deal about actors, don't they? They call some geniuses on a regular basis. Don't get me wrong, some are amazingly talented. But actors are told where to stand, what to say and what to do. They're people who are paid to pretend, okay? They're like hookers faking an orgasm. So maybe we could calm down on the genius talk. Some are good at it and some are not. It's that simple. And yet, as simple as this concept is, I have noticed most people don't understand it at all. 

      I've heard dumb people of my generation say that Jack Nicholson is overrated a million times. Here is why you are dumb if you say this: MATH exists.

     With MATH, one can use the ancient art of counting the skills a person has at acting to determine whether or not an actor is good without having to rely on feelings which are an invalid way to form an opinion. I know we have a right to feel what we want, guys, but be reasonable. Feelings are for feeling, not for thinking. If you dropped acid this morning you might feel you are an orange. But you are not an orange. If you say, "I think ___ is a bad actor" you must back it up with evidence.

     The reason I hear dummies of my generation (Generation X) give when they say Jack is overrated is that "All he does is use a nasal voice and twitch his eyebrows...he is always the same." And then they give nothing but examples from 1980 and on. Movies like Batman, Wolf, The Shining, As Good As It Gets.

     Listen here, dumb folks. His career begins in 1958. That's when Eisenhower was President. If you only watch movies made when you were alive you are a fucking idiot. QUESTION: Why would Hollywood have waited until you were born to start making movies good? Answer: They didn't. They haven't even heard of you.

     You see, even if you do not like a movie, that doesn't mean it is bad. It simply must succeed at the majority of it's goals to be good. Because you hated "that one part" does not mean the whole movie stinks. There have been good movies being made for over 100 years. Good meaning it succeeded at it's goal. Meaning a comedy that makes people laugh, a thriller that made people feel excited...etc. 

Here is a list of the 5 things a great actor should be able to do:

1) Can they emote well? Do they convince you that they are feeling what their character is supposed to be feeling in the scene? Do they seem angry, happy etc.? Most actors who have been successful for more than a decade can do this at least competently whether we like them or not. People get tired of watching someone who cannot simply pretend they are feeling something. It is a useful skill and perhaps the most common among decent actors.

2) Chameleon Powers: Can they do accents, can they change their body language and physical tics, are they willing to change appearance drastically due to make-up, dieting, etc? This skill is a bit more rare. Good examples of this style of acting are Marlon Brando, Robert De Niro, Daniel Day Lewis, Robert Downey Jr, Al Pacino and Gary Oldman. In fact, Day Lewis and Oldman are probably the best chameleons currently working. De Niro, Nicholson & Pacino in the 70s and Brando in the 50s and 60s. (Yes, Nicholson has done it many times whether you saw the films or not).

3) Do they pick challenging scripts that will force them out of their comfort zone and into new territory as an actor? It is a good thing to do but sadly, dramatic actors and action stars are the worst at this meaning, once they are successful at a genre they tend to stick with it. Jason Statham does not appear to be interested in picking something out of his comfort zone. In the 70s, Stallone showed great range and was compared to Brando, James Dean & De Niro but then he mostly played guys who blew stuff up ever since. So with few exceptions like Copland and Oscar, picking challenging parts is not one of his best attributes. While many enjoy his action films, he desperately needs to do something challenging or his memory will always be as the guy who had a good relationship with the pyrotechnic crew. That gets boring. 

4) Do they ever pick something that is a crowd pleaser? This one is tricky. We want them to pick challenging work, yes, but if they never pick a "fun" movie or a "popcorn" movie, actors come off as self important. For all the money actors make they owe their audience a good time now and then and, let's face it, a movie about babies dying in the congo doesn't cut it for most people. So I am referring to comedy, action, horror, sci fi...some kind of a tentpole picture. Do they ever even try at these things? Daniel Day Lewis for example, will not do a movie unless it has a disturbing death scene, and/or a scene where he yells needlessly. (We heard you say "Now" the first time, Lincoln) Is he good at these things? Hell yes. He is perhaps the best "intensity" actor working today. But since acting is not necessarily always about being intense, Day Lewis needs to lighten the fuck up sometimes. Makes sense, right? If you knew a great chef would you tell him to just make one type of meal all the time? Perhaps you criticize an action guy like Stallone for doing the same "type" of movie repeatedly. Day Lewis, like Stallone, is an great actor who needs a new trick. Look at Gary Oldman. Every bit the chameleon Day Lewis is but he will throw in a Batman or Harry Potter role to mix things up. Gary Oldman delivers to both his "artsy fartsy" fans and his "I wanna see something blow up" fans. Demand more from actors who have shown great skill. Don't let the Daniel Day Lewis types off the hook of responsibility to their audience if you are quick to ridicule the Stallones. Be consistent or you are one of the dummies I'm referring to in this article.

5) Comedy. Virtually every actor says it is the hardest genre to perform in and many people do not understand why. Allow me to show you why this is absolutely true. When watching a really good drama, one can have many reactions, right? You can cry, you can think, you can even become disturbed to a point you have to leave the room. For a comedy to be good, it is forced to try to get one reaction: Laughter. If it does not make you laugh, it has failed. Since the target they are aiming for is smaller, they are taking a more difficult shot. This is why so many comedies suck balls. Serious films are shooting at a bullseye the size of a battleship. Hence, whoever the greatest actor on Earth is, he or she MUST be able to handle comedy. Without some funny, you are at best, in the second tier of great actors.

     So, all one has to do to form an opinion that matters is see how much of this criteria an actor fits. I won't tell you who the greatest actor on Earth is, but clearly they excel at all 5 things on this list. If it is 4, they are damn good, too. Just not the best. 

     Let's look at Jack Nicholson and see how he holds up: #1 is chameleon abilities and yes, if you have looked at his pictures as much as I have you will notice accents and characteristics changing (lesser so in the last 35 years which is why my generation fails to see this talent in him as they tend to only watch movies made after Star Wars. Seriously guys, it is a fact. He changes. Read up on it. He just became so famous after 1980 or so that audiences wanted to see a certain persona from him and won't accept another kind.).  #2- He emotes well. Even his detractors agree about this. The man convinces you he feels what his character feels. #3- He has done every single genre. Seriously. So while I don't know what his comfort zone is, he definitely left it since he has done every type of movie under the sun. #4- Does he ever do one for the audience-a "crowd pleaser"? Yes, he has. Again, he has acted in every genre except perhaps silent. #5- Comedy? He has won Oscars for his performances in BOTH comedies and dramas. Think about that. Whoever you think is the best, did they win in different genres?

You don't have to like him if you don't want to. But he fits the bill. This is a great actor and you are just dumb to say otherwise.

     Again, keeping emotion out of this, let's look at Daniel Day Lewis, who clearly holds up numbers 1 (chameleon) and 2 (emoting) quite well, perhaps better than anyone else alive. But if we are honest, he suffers in the other 3. This is the guy who everybody says is the greatest actor of his generation. Yet, he won't do anything outside of drama and he stays in his comfort zone of playing super intense dudes who make everyone else in the scene nervous. What's that? I forgot about that hilarious comedy he made? No, I didn't. Cuz he didn't make it. 

     But don't worry, Day Lewis fans. I will now go after someone else you probably love to hate. Let's look at Stallone. Yeah, Stallone may have proven he emotes well in films like Rocky, and he may have proven he has the ability to change up his mannerisms and voice in movies like First Blood and Copland, but, let's face it, he fails pretty miserably at #3 by making way too many action movies and he hasn't strayed from his comfort zone since 1997's Copland. What's that? 1997 is a real life date that happened? Wow, you're right. So while it has been too long, he has, in fact, strayed from his comfort zone. Maybe not enough but he has done it. What's that? He just made a comedy with De Niro and was lauded by many as being very funny? And did you just say that half of his lip and jaw and tongue are paralyzed from an accident at birth and this gives him the "snarl-like" smile and slurred speech that you so readily make fun of? So he has given ALL of his performances disabled and he never uses that to sell himself or ask you, the asshole public, to stop mocking his disability? Holy shit. You're right. Stallone is one of the greatest actors on Earth. Writing is a talent, as is acting, bodybuilding, doing stunts, painting and overcoming immense physical obstacles.

     See what I mean? You thought Jack Nicholson sucked because you've seen 5 of his 100 movies and were disappointed. Now you know that he is awesome. You thought Stallone sucked and now, unless you are close-minded and screaming "No, No, No, No" you see that he is a disabled guy who manages to be way more talented than you, a person who judges actors by a "gut feeling". No? You disagree? You think feelings are more real than facts? So you really are an orange when you drop acid? Just a quick FYI: Another great thing about some actors is when they have other talents outside of acting that can inform their performances. Nicholson can write & direct. Stallone is a successful painter, directed 5 of his most successful films, a gifted writer (he wrote Rocky in 3 days and it won Best Picture), a talented body builder who was willing to throw that away and get fat for Copland, and you still are going to say DD Lewis is more talented than him? Is this because he is good at pretending? I agree. He is awesome at pretending. I also used the art of counting and it turns out pretending is only one talent. Sorry. MATH wins again.

Jack Nicholson: 5 out of 5 required skills in acting.

Stallone: 4.5 out of 5. I am taking half a point off because while he has gone out of his comfort zone it has been far too infrequent.

Daniel Day Lewis: 2 out of 5. 

        Dumb people of the world, stop saying people suck when you haven't given it much thought. You might be mocking someone with a disability you didn't even know about. Plus, it isn't your opinion that Day Lewis is the best since his skills end at pretending and being intense. It is your feeling that he is the best. And yeah, he feels like the best to me, too. We hear it being said so much on TV that we tend to believe it. Or some of you feel like agreeing with the masses so you won't get mocked. I have OCD. I obsess about my opinions and analyze them. Then I destroy people who say stupid shit. Seriously, every actor picks a stupid script sometimes. People used to say "Not Johnny Depp". You still saying that lately? It's been like 5 bad movies in a row. Day Lewis did a movie called "9". That movie is a fart of a movie. I am convinced the director was just a butt. Dustin Hoffman did Ishtar. De Niro made 3 movies about the "Fockers", each one more Focking stupid than the last. So, yes. Jack Nicholson and Stallone have made some stupid movies. But so did your favorite actor. And did your favorite actor WRITE his or her Best movie? No? Then shut the fuck up with your hand me down thoughts while the rest of us invent our own. 

written by Michael Anthony (Tony) Santiago, painting by Michael Anthony (Tony) Santiago @BansheeMilk  

#jack nicholson #daniel day lewis #sylvester stallone #funny article #writer

[beabaseball]

beauty and the beast review [’out-of-context spoiler’ warning]

So I saw Beauty and the Beast last night and I actually had some pretty clear thoughts on it! I’m still not fully sure how to get a format for movie reviews, so suggestions would be helpful if you have any thoughts on that!

Overall, I wasn’t super excited about a new Beauty and the Beast ‘live-action’ movie when I first heard about it; it wasn’t my didney favorite as a kid and as much as I liked to defend it, it never really had much for me personally, so I ended up going in without seeing many of the designs or any of the trailers. I just knew the basics that most people already knew when going in: emma watson, cgi, gay lefou, and the story being a ‘darker take’ on the tale.

Honestly, I was very impressed with the changes to the story that this adaption made. The added backstory to the Beast and the Witch were the most key things: showing that the Beast wasn’t a spoiled eleven year old orphaned prince (who honestly wouldn’t have deserved to be turned into a beast and his whole household cursed, no matter who he turned away) but someone older and capable of making his own (cruel) decisions, albeit influenced by the ages and things that had happened to him in life.

Other things that made me quite happen in the story was how the relationship had been changed to make it very clear that it was not stockholm syndrome (something which has been put out-of-context in Beauty and the Beast narratives of the cartoon, when it’s Lima Syndrome if anything) but that Beast and Belle do genuinely have shared interests, and once they are able to talk, they do begin to grow and change as people beside each other. The biggest point to this is the infamous library scene, which detractors say is a false gift because ‘it was already there to begin with, he didn’t actually give her anything except show her where it was,’ and which fans say is Beast trying to cater to Belle’s interest. Instead of it being muddily worded, this time, the Beast simply brings Belle to the library, and upon seeing her interest in books, says ‘well, it’s yours then,’ making it clear this was not planned, but simple surprising correspondence of interest. As much as the servants are certainly in on trying to make Beast and Belle into a ‘thing’ to save themselves (understandably), once Beast and Belle actually do form a connection, the servants quickly lose their control as the two tear off on their own direction.

Finally, one thing that I was very surprised about was the amount of black actors in the movie. The vast majority are background characters, but two prominent servants are revealed to be black at the end of the film, one of them explicitly very beautiful, and the village Father who runs the little library Belle borrows from is black. Several other villages are also black, and there are several end-game mixed romances. Cons where cons are due: most of the black actors were servants which has connotations I don’t think I’m qualified to speak of, I can’t remember if any of the black characters notably spoke to each other, and none of the well known lead characters are black. Still, the casual inclusion of non-white was definitely something refreshing to see, and a trend I hope continues until it’s no longer startling to see multiple named back characters who aren’t playing the martyr-esque perfect magical side character meant to bring out the best in the protagonist/God.

Finally, the issue that I think people were most contentious about: Le Fou.

If you asked our childhood selves, I don’t think any of us would’ve expected walking into a remake of Beauty and the Beast where the character we planned on watching closest was Le Fou.

To get the final verdict out of the way: I personally prefer a Beauty and the Beast that had Le Fou as an explicitly gay character with a flawed portrayal than to have a Beauty and the Beast without a gay Le Fou at all. I think it would have been immeasurably worse to have Le Fou continue to be a gay stereotype bumbling along beside Gaston than to have had Disney not attempt something, but this is my personal opinion, and I do have a lot of reservations.

First of all: I don’t think Le Fou was explicitly gay in the film. We knew from interviews beforehand, but going into the film itself? It felt more like they were trying to hint at it than anything. The only moments Le Fou does anything ‘explicitly’ gay is when it’s played for laughs, particularly in the scene where Le Fou whips up the crowd to praise Gaston. He’s treated better than his cartoon counterpart--he has brains and charisma, and is treated and viewed more as Gaston’s right-hand rather than a bumbling lackey, but the root of the problem still remains that, in trying to keep true to the basic narrative (Belle goes to Beast, Gaston and town follow, Gaston tries to kill Beast) they have also left Le Fou ineffectual and unabe to deviate from his ultimate role as a side character who could vanish from the plot with no consequence. Just because he’s more charismatic and his comedy comes from his snarky muttering than his foolishness doesn’t mean he’s given any more plot weight than before--and that does make me sad.

It also makes me sad that it wasn’t more explicit and the only moments that were explicit were jokes. If I were a child or uninformed adult walking in, I’m not sure if I would realize that Le Fou was in love with Gaston, despite Josh Gad’s admirable acting. I wish there had been more opportunities taken in the movie to make this more explicit, but Le Fou comes across as someone who’s trying to get Gaston to focus on other ladies… not on himself.

And on the level of those outside the movie theater: Howard Ashman was a lyricist for Beauty and the Beast, revitalizing Disney and notably writing the eponymous song featured in the film (Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme, Beauty and the Beast). Ashman was gay and severely ill while working on Beauty and the Beast, dying in 1991 of AIDs shortly after it was completed without ever seeing the final product. For two decades after the death of the man who helped revitalized Disney, in 2017, Beauty and the Beast should absolutely have a gay character in it, and perhaps Le Fou was indeed a good choice for that!

But the fact remains that Le Fou is named “the crazy/insane” one, is the only character in a miserable, abusive relationship, and in a film where we get not one but multiple happy straight couples at the end, the sole gay person is left alone and miserable in the climax except for a single blink-and-you-miss-it scene (that I did almost miss due to being in the middle of blinking and so I didn’t even see his face and I just kind of assume it was him because of costuming) and then is never mentioned again.

So I don’t know what Howard Ashman would’ve wanted. I don’t know how any of his surviving loved ones may feel. I am glad that there was a gay character. But I think that they could’ve given a stronger tribute and homage to a man who helped this company so much, who died a miserable death to a miserable illness, and who created the words to a world that children like him will continue to grow up in.

I know it would be difficult without ‘altering’ the movie’s basic plot too much, but even just little things might’ve gone over well: Belle’s father finding Le Fou afterwards and comforting him, perhaps, both having to leave behind the people they loved for their own good and the good of those around them. Having some background utensils being gay as well to take the entire strain of representation off of Le Fou. Even just lingering with him a little longer at the end would’ve been appreciated.

I’m glad he was there. But I wish he was a little more.

...finally, some things that are closer to nitpicks:

Beauty and the Beast clearly demonstrates the difficulties with having live animals and CGI animals, re: the live action horse being surrounded by all those goddamn wolves and just bein super chill. Because they’re CGI wolves. It ends up looking like the world’s least startle-able horse, even in scenes where you really really think the horse should be just. Screaming.

Emma Watson appears to be in a separate room from all other characters throughout the entire movie. Part of this is because sometimes she is, as she has the most parts in the movie with only CGI characters to act off of, and entire scenes where she’s expected to just sit there looking impressed at the thin air (see: be our guest). The problem comes with what I’m assuming is a directorial decision to also have her act like she’s completely ignoring the townspeople half the time earlier on in the film, and then later saying that she feels like she’s shunned by them. We do have one scene of bullying, but unfortunately it’s overshadowed by everything else, and when you put it together, it looks like she had to film the whole movie but the end in a completely different room from everyone else.

Lastly:

...seriously, you can tell those wolves were not the priority for the animation team, oh holy hell.

TLDR: overall good film, liked the plot changes, conflicted but supported about le fou, i realized I didn’t mention Gaston but that was just because he was so seamlessly in that I totally blanked, y’all did fucking great with Gaston, nitpicks about wolves and CGI that I’m sure the animation dept. would like to Explain Why We Did That, M’AAM and I trust you all i’m sorry. It’s just. The wolves. And please give Emma Watson irl people to bounce off of. Please. She does so much better with that. You can’t just force her to look bemused but affectionate all the time, it doesn’t work.

3.5/5 thumbs up. Pretty good but not stellar for my taste, but worth a gander if you’re curious.

#beatext #beauty and the beast #beauty and the beast spoilers #beauty and the beast review #batb2017 #batb live action #film review #long post #'I am a film major' I whisper into the night #le fou #overall positive but I spent a lot of time on the controversies #as a warning

[notbemoved-blog]

#OscarsSoDiverse: “O.J.,” “13th,” and “Negro,” Focusing on the Color Line

#OscarsSoWhite is suddenly SO last year, as The New Yorker’s cover this week announces. Now it’s #OscarsNotSoWhite, as diversely pigmented actors and actresses populate some of the year’s most memorable feature films. From Fences to Hidden Figures to Moonlight, an array of stories about race and its impact on lives both real and imagined filled the screen and have the opportunity to compete for some of 2016’s most sought-after movie prizes—best actor and actress, best film, and even best director.

  For my money, though, the most interesting category from a race-in-America perspective goes to Best Documentary film. Three of the five nominated films in the DOC category try to get at the question of the role of race in American life, and each one succeeds in various ways of pointing out the perennial problem of America’s original sin. I am Not Your Negro, 13th, and O. J.: Made in America—all three made by black film makers—push the boundaries of our understanding of the issues African-Americans face in our society and demonstrate the enduring legacy of chattel slavery, Jim Crow segregation, and the devaluation and twisted logic fraught in the social system based on judgment of human beings based on the color of their skin. 

Perhaps the most fascinating of these three films is Ezra Edelman’s O. J.: Made in America. This seven-and-a-half-hour-epic traces the life and legacy of fallen American hero everyone came to know simply as O.J. From football legend in the 1970s to TV ad man (running through airports for Hertz) and B-grade actor in the 1980s to alleged wife killer in the “Crime of the Century” in the 1990s, O. J.’s story is a cautionary tale about race, class, and privilege in glitzy L.A. and how the lens of racial bias colors all of our judgments, no matter which race you are classified as belonging to. 

This well-worn story of the murder of Simpson’s wife, Nicole Brown, and the unfortunate Ron Goldman—a waiter who was simply returning a forgotten item from the restaurant he worked at—would seem an odd choice for making a film documentary for a contemporary film maker. But Edelman, the bi-racial the son of Marian Wright and Peter Edelman, perhaps had it in his DNA to deconstruct the most talked about trial of his youth and disentangle the threads of racism, sexism, heroism, and any other -ism tied up in this tragic tale of woe-all-around. 

I was not inclined to spend the time watching a series of five 1.5 hour-long episodes to get to the bottom of whether or not O.J. was guilty. I had lived through the “Year of Living Dangerously” as the crime was reported on and sensationalized, and as the trial was broadcast daily by breathy journalists and pondered over nightly by millions of Americans. But while attending the Washington Ideas Forum put on by The Atlantic this fall, I heard Ta-Nehisi Coates call the film the best documentary of the year and then interview Edelman about the making of the film. I became intrigued and wanted to see what all the fuss was about. 

It is not a pretty story. It takes us through the allegations that Simpson, a black man, had killed his sexy and glamorous white wife in a jealous rage one night and then jetted off to a motivational speaking engagement. The details are horrifying, and Edelman does not back away from any of the gore or titillating facts of the case. We are re-introduced to the entire cast of characters: the sly defense attorney Johnnie Cochran (“If it [the glove] doesn’t fit, you must acquit.”), the hapless prosecutors Marcia Clark (white) and Christopher Darden (black); O. J.’s friends and detractors, who regularly were paraded into our living rooms back then thanks to the rise of daytime talk shows; the uber-bad-cop Mark Fuhrman whose reputation and career took hit after the media portrayed his as the fall guy; and perhaps most notably the grieving father of Ron Goldman, whose dogged determination to nail the SOB finally brings Simpson to his knees and knocks that cocky smile off of his face. 

But the film is so much more than a seedy whodunit. Edelman takes the opportunity to explore how O. J.’s family got to California (the Great Migration), how he rose from lower-class circumstances as a result of his athletic gifts to become the classy “new black” role model, one that whites could readily embrace, and how he attempted to erase race from the equation—expecting people to judge him based on his abilities, not on his skin tone. It is also a story of how celebrity culture kills the soul, of spousal abuse and how women’s claims about their abusive husbands are consistently devalued, and how the lived experience of race in America could so completely color the way one looked at the O. J. trial. If you were white, O. J. was obviously guilty; if you were black, there were no end of explanations as to why he was innocent and being framed. 

Most of the players are still around and offer “color commentary” on their roles throughout the trial phase of the film. We see footage of them then and now. We also hear from some of the jurors who (spoiler alert!) found O.J. innocent mostly because they were not going to give their sainted hero up to Whitey after all of the bad things they had experienced at the hands of “the Man” throughout their lives. It is shocking, mesmerizing, absorbing TV (the series aired on ESPN), and I can’t say I’ve ever seen anything like it. Most of all, as Time Magazine called the O. J. story, it is “An American Tragedy,” played out in five parts. 

  Ava DuVernay’s 13th takes as its subject the Thirteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution—the one that outlawed slavery—and demonstrates how what might seem as a throw-away phrase in this two-sentence amendment has become a catalyst for mass incarceration and the ruination of the lives of multiple generations of black American males. The film boasts an impressive array of talented scholars and social commentators, including Harvard scholar Henry Louis Gates, CNN talking head Van Jones (who predicted the Trump victory), New Jersey junior Senator Cory Booker, and 1970s radical activist Angela Davis, to name but a few.

“Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime . . .  shall exist within the United States. . . .”

 13th could be called a more “standard-style” documentary, providing insight and information on a topical subject in about 90 minutes. Documentaries of this sort are the fondue of modern American intellectual life. You can become conversant on any subject by dipping into a melting pot of ideas—stirred regularly by experts on the matter—and emerge feeling satisfied (knowledgeable) but craving more. 

The inspiration for 13th in part comes from Michelle Alexander’s breakthrough book The New Jim Crow, which provided the first mass-marketed insight into mass incarceration when it was published in 2010. The book became a New York Times bestseller and inspired a fresh look at America’s prison industrial complex through a racial lens, leading to a call for criminal justice reform that continues to this day. 

DuVernay features Alexander prominently throughout the film, citing statistics and historical developments that led to our current situation whereby every third black male in America can expect to spend time in jail as compared to every seventeenth white male and where 40 percent of our entire prison population is black. The film is full of harsh facts like this, often presented in stark black and white graphics, almost like a teacher writing notes on a chalk board. It shows how our prison population grew from 370,000 in 1970 to more than 2.3 million in 2014—a vast increase during a time when crime was actually going down. The causes for this development—Bill Clinton’s 3-strikes policy, mandatory minimum sentencing requirements, the militarization and over-funding of the police force—all conspire to take judgement out of the justice system and lock up more of our (mostly black) citizen and for longer periods of time, often for minor offenses.

13th is a whirlwind tour of our “crimigration” system—as young black men are moved from urban blight to prison in a few easy steps. We hear about the school-to-prison pipeline and the prison industrial complex run often by private corporations for profit. We get history lessons, from Nixon’s call for “law and order” to Reagan’s criminalization of drug abuse to Obama’s plea in 2015 for massive changes in how we deal with the growing crisis (and costs) of nearly five percent of our population being locked up—the highest percentage of any nation on earth. All of this is presented to the soundtrack of hip hop, with Public Enemy coming out looking like prophets for calling out these social outrages at the dawn of the rap era. DuVernay’s film is shouting at all of us. “We are tolerating this,” one of her many guests says. We are all, therefore, complicit. 13th is a damning documentary of the American justice system, and no one is spared its fury. 

I am Not Your Negro, on the other hand, serves its bile cold, which makes it all the more difficult to swallow. It chokes in your mouth and you want to vomit. This spoken word documentary, directed by Haitian-born filmmaker Raoul Peck, apparently recounts word-for-word the 30-paged treatment that author James Baldwin created to sell his publisher on his idea for another blockbuster book in the late 1970s when his star seemed to be waning.(Excerpts from Baldwins other works are also included.) The pitch hangs on the fact that Baldwin was friends with the three most lionized American black martyrs of the 1960s—Medgar Evers, Malcolm X, and Martin Luther King, Jr., and works its way through Baldwin’s grieving over their deaths and what each man meant to him and to the American black civil rights movement.  

Though the book was never completed (and McGraw-Hill sued Baldwin’s estate for the $200,000 advance Baldwin received), the treatment itself is its own mini-masterpiece of analysis of the black man’s plight in modern American life. Baldwin was such a character, such a force on our country’s incessantly race-obsessed scene in the 1950s and 1960s. His articles and books were devoured by the literati and bohemian crowd alike for their sharp, acerbic insights into white American consciousness. And the film shows wonderful clips of Baldwin during his heyday, most tellingly when he debated William Buckley at England’s Cambridge University in 1965 and when he appeared on the Dick Cavett show in 1968. Baldwin’s fire proves too much for his white counterparts—the lost look on the face of the typically unflappable Cavett when the incendiary Baldwin lets off a riff about how blacks are treated is alone worth the price of the ticket.  

Actor Samuel Jackson gives voice to Baldwin’s prose as a jazzy aural backdrop infuses the proceedings with a “Birth of the Cool” vibe. But the author’s prophetic vision is what dominates the film as Baldwin tells how his conscience urges him back to America from his Paris expat hangouts as the country begins its long-overdue civil rights saga. And he recounts in detail where he was and what he felt when each towering figure was gunned down and how he felt compelled to visit their wives and families after each assassination. He doesn’t speak of the toll these visits took on his own consciousness. He doesn’t need to. The pain and outrage inform every sentence of this sharp, acid script. It is a wonder that the man didn’t just self-immolate on screen, so full of passionate observation and Cassandra-like foreboding was he, desperate to make white America understand what it was doing to its own citizens and its own self. 

Of course, I was particularly taken by the photographs of Jimmy Baldwin with Medgar Evers and his children. Having now met the grieving widow and daughter, having stood on the very driveway where Evers was executed, having touched the places where the bullet entered his home and rested on the kitchen counter, I was choked with emotion to see those scenes replayed. “Why is our history so sad?” I wondered. “Why must we relive this nightmare again and again?”  

James Baldwin and Medgar Evers in the carport of the Evers home in Jackson, Mississippi, where Evers would be gunned down several months later.

 These are the questions Baldwin seems to wrestle with, as well, and his answers point not only to government policies, but to the culture itself. Baldwin, it turns out, was a film buff from an early age. And this is where the film offers some relief but also some context. We see film clips of such varied fare as Birth of a Nation (the film also makes a brief appearance in 13th), Imitation of Life, Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, as well as Doris Day’s and Gary Cooper’s works (films Baldwin hated for their sickening portrayal of pathetic white innocence). 

Baldwin’s mother and his auntie would frequently take him to the picture shows when he was young to escape their daily drudgery. There, at the age of 5, Baldwin was enthralled by a tap-dancing Joan Crawford and fell in love with Bette Davis, who possessed similar “bug eyes” just like his. He later came under the spell of his white school teacher who mentored him, brought him books to read and took him to various cultural events all over New York City. Because of her, “I could never hate white people,” he reveals, which make his dire predictions of where America is headed all the more heart-rending. “To look around America today,” he tells us from the grave, “is to make the prophets and the angels weep.”  

James Baldwin’s words writ large at the new National Museum of African American History and Culture in Washington, DC.

It's hard to tell which of these films (if any) will be showered by Oscar’s gold tonight. All three are deserving. Perhaps, as often winners are wont to say, “It’s an honor just to be nominated in such good company.” Baldwin’s takedown of Hollywood kitsch may cost Peck the Oscar; DuVernay’s rage at the institutional racism that pervades our current justice system may come on too strong for most Oscar voters (most of whom, as we well know, are not black); so perhaps it’s the languorous, complex, perfectly-attuned-to-our-times O. J. film that Edelman serves up that will win the honors. There’s also the distinct possibility that these three “race films” will cancel themselves out and one of the other two nominated films (one on autism, the other on refugees) will take home the prize.

 No matter. The Academy of Motion Pictures has finally broken through the color barrier and nominated three exceptional studies of black American life. This in itself is worthy of celebration. Perhaps now that we see the problems more clearly we can begin to make some progress? I can hear Jimmy Baldwin’s wry, hoarse, infectious, catty laugh all the way from heaven. “Don’t bet on it,” he’d say.

#James Baldwin #I Am Not Your Negro #Ava DuVernay #13th #Ezra Edelman #O.J.: Made in America #Malcolm X #Medgar Evers #MLK #Martin Luther King #Oscars2017 #OscarsSoWhite #OscarsSoDiverse #OscarsNotSoWhite

[hermanwatts]

Sensor Sweep: Schuyler Hernstom, Ken Kelly, Gardner Fox, August Derleth

Review (Brain Leakage): In terms of pure entertainment, I can’t recommend Hernstrom’s story enough. And if all you’re craving is a dose of pure, adrenaline-filled awesomeness with alien ruins, axe-wielding barbarians, motorcycles, and talking monkeys, then stop reading this review NOW. Buy Hernstrom’s new collection, The Eye of Sounnu from DMR Books, which is where you can read this slice of pure heavy-metal havoc. I promise, you won’t be disappointed.

Art (David J. West): I am positive that Ken Kelly has done more book covers that I own than anybody else – and that’s a lot considering I typically buy every Frazetta I can find. Kelly is such a work horse and has done so many Conan’s and other sword and sorcery related covers that it is staggering. He has done a lot of heavy metal covers too, but I don’t think I have any of those but when it comes to book covers wow -its staggering.

Interview (The Dacian): To kick off the series I asked my favorite living Sword & Sorcery writer Schuyler Hernstrom to be my first subject. Over the weekend Hernstrom took the time to chat and answer a few questions. Schuyler Hernstrom is a fantastic writer of Sword & Sorcery whose recent short story collection The Eye of Sounnu I review here, and made the subject of the first Short Story Bookclub.  You can also read his previous collection Thune’s Vison and he’s been featured numerous times in Cirsova Magazine, including the upcoming summer special.

Forthcoming (Story Hack): I recently annouced that I’ll be publishing a collection of short stories by the ever-entertaining Misha Burnett. It will release on June 15th. This collection features reprints as well as new work. And now, you can preorder the ebook version on Amazon. Paperback will also be available, but there won’t be a preorder. For those of you who do buy a paperback, I’ll make available bookplates signed by the author. Details on that to follow.

Men’s Adventure Magazines (Menspulps.com): Most of the magazines in the war mag subgenre were fairly short-lived (as were many other magazines in the men’s adventure genre in general). The longest-lasting was BATTLE CRY. It was published from late 1955 to mid-1971 by Stanley Publications, Inc., the flagship company of pioneering comic book and magazine publisher Stanley P. Morse. When the puritanical 1954 Comics Code essentially banned violent or sexy images in comics, Morse discontinued his BATTLE CRY comic book and created the men’s adventure magazine BATTLE CRY.

Fiction (Goodman Games): May 20th is the birthdate of Gardner F. Fox. But when people see his name on the list of Appendix N authors, there’s often no recognition of his name as a writer of fantasy. He has passed into relative obscurity for contemporary fans of the genre. It is not surprising considering that he is best known as the author of the Kothar books (discounted by many as a cheap knockoff of Conan) and the Kyric books (a likewise discounted knockoff of Elric).

Science Fiction (M Porcius): A. E. van Vogt has many detractors, and their criticisms are not all off base; you might say the Slan man, Canada’s finest export, is an acquired taste.  You don’t read A. E. van Vogt looking for conventional literary values, like beautiful sentences.  And you don’t read A. E. van Vogt looking for the comforts of standard popular fiction, like sympathetic characters you enjoy “getting to know” who share your values and regurgitate the conventional wisdom.  An A. E. van Vogt story is usually challenging on multiple levels.

Art (DMR Books): However, Angus was painting fantasy art long before he was doing work for RPG publishers. During the 1960s, McBride was creating art steadily for Look and Learn magazine as well as its competitor, Finding Out. Both were aimed at a juvenile/young adult audience, but the art and writing in them were well above what one would find in similar publications today.

D&D (Jeffro’s Space Gaming Blog): Just looking over these old sessions and I have to say, it really takes my breath away: The Hole in the Sky, The Thing in the Sewer, The Big Score, The Drums of the Dog People, Altar of the Beast-women, The Pugs of Slaughter, The Overbearing of the Crystal Men, The Song of Fàgor.

    Comic Books (Messages From Crom): Ablaze Publishing THE CIMMERIAN: PEOPLE OF BLACK CIRCLE #1 Coming in August! Robert E. Howard’s Conan is brought to life UNCENSORED! Discover the true Conan, unrestrained, violent, and sexual. Read the story as he intended! In the kingdom of Vendhya, the king has just died, struck down by the spells of the black prophets of Yimsha. The king’s sister, Yasmina, decides to avenge him…and contacts Conan, then chief of the Afghuli tribe.

Science Speculation (Pulprev): In the world of Singularity Sunrise, where robotics and AI threaten to replace humans in every major field, one of the few things that cannot be quantified, mechanised and reproduced by machines is psychic powers. Don’t expect Hollywood-or anime-type powers here. In this universe, psychic powers are the outgrowth of research projects like Project Stargate, investigating the potential of the mind to gather information through extra-sensory perception.

Video Games (Kairos): The Internet Archive even has every back issue of Nintendo Power, so the re-creations of those long-lost after school decompression sessions  with a new kart slotted in my SNES, a crisp copy of NP flopped open on the couch, and a bowl of popcorn in my lap are almost perfect. Archive.org doesn’t call its old web site search feature the Wayback Machine for nil. One thing that hits you over the head when you go back and play the old 2D sprite-based games is the real craftsmanship behind the bright colors and pixels.

Fiction (Paperback Warrior): Esteemed author Max Allan Collins is a heavy contributor to the gritty hard-boiled line of mystery fiction. His well-respected creations include Nate Heller, Nolan, Mallory and the subject at hand, Quarry. The Thrilling Detective blog cites Quarry as the first hired killer series, predating Loren Estleman’s Peter Macklin and Lawrence Block’s Keller. Collins released the debut, The Broker (aka Quarry), in 1976. After four more novels, and a ton of fan mail requests, the author began releasing series installments again in 2006.

Poul Anderson (Mystery File): POUL ANDERSON “The Martian Crown Jewels.” Short story. Freehatched Syaloch #1. First published in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, February 1958. One reason for the story’s popularity, I think, is that there really aren’t many examples of combining traditional detective stories with hardcore SF, and this is a good one. The detective on the case is Martian private detective Freehatched Syaloch, but this seems to have been his only appearance in print. Missing are the Martian crown jewels, which have been on display on Earth, but on their state secret return to Mars, via Phobos, one of the planet’s moons, they have completely disappeared.

Horror (Grady Hendrix): Wilson’s The Keep  deals with Judaism more obliquely and in the guise of the big, fat,  international thrillers authors like Robert Ludlum were popularizing in the early Eighties. A swaggering, World War II adventure story full of  warring immortals, sneering Gestapo officers, magic swords, and Weighty  Questions about Faith, The Keep  arrived as the smaller novels of the Seventies started giving way to the massive blockbusters of the Eighties. Painted in broad strokes on a big canvas, The Keep fits comfortably into a decade that would make literary rock stars out of authors like Anne Rice and Stephen King.

Weird Tales (Dark Worlds Quarterly): August Derleth takes a lotta crap. Some of it is deserved but some of it isn’t. Like when people say Derleth wouldn’t have been in Weird Tales without Lovecraft. That is simply not true. August’s first Weird Tales appearance was “Bat’s Belfry” (Weird Tales, May 1926), eleven years before Lovecraft’s death. His first Mythos tale was “The Lair of the Star-Spawn” (Weird Tales, August 1932) with Marc R. Schorer. This story appeared during HPL’s lifetime. Derleth had written forty stories previously to Star-Spawn. He wouldn’t write a posthumous Mythos tale until his seventy-second, “The Return of Hastur” (Weird Tales, March 1939), the year Arkham House began publishing. Of Derleth 132 appearances in WT, only 15 were Cthulhu Mythos (with one other appearing at Strange Tales). That means Derleth appeared in 40% of all issues.

D&D (Goblin Punch): The most interesting part for most of you will probably be the Advice for DMs section, but I’m posting the whole thing here since it’s a good explanation of (a) old-school dungeoncrawls, as I see them, and (b) the style of gameplay that I’m shooting for in the Lair of the Lamb.

Writing (Amatopia): A corollary to my recent post about villains who may have had a point after all: I am not advocating for the “sympathetic villain” trope. In fact, I generally dislike that trope. But I have a theory that a lot of new and new-ish writers can’t help but write villains like this because they forgot how to make heroes actually heroic. This is not because our traditional culture is bad and out if step with the times. It’s because a cadre of nihilistic relativists hijacked the culture with the intent of changing it to suit their own spiritual and psychological hangups. It’s a tale as old as time.

Cinema (Giant Freakin Robot): Starship Troopers should have been a gargantuan hit. With a $100m+ budget and the director behind sci-fi triumphs like RoboCop and Total Recall, the adaptation of Robert Heinlein’s 1959 novel was poised to be a smash hit both financially and critically. That’s not what went down in 1997. We have to understand that the movie-going public was very different in 1997. Films were sold on their stars more than their premises. If you look at the biggest earners of the year, you’ll see movies whose marketing campaigns were structured around their lead actors: Men in Black, Liar Liar, Air Force One, My Best Friend’s Wedding.

Sensor Sweep: Schuyler Hernstom, Ken Kelly, Gardner Fox, August Derleth published first on https://sixchexus.weebly.com/

[trickypath]

An Evening with the Jordanites

‘Why do those feminists go on about the patriarchy?’ - This was an overheard conversation in a pub after an evening watching a documentary film called the ‘Rise of Jordan Peterson’ at the Camden Odeon. I went there out of respect for a friend who asked me to go and also on some level to break the spell around Peterson that the online world has created. Jordan Peterson was a little known Canadian psychology professor until 2016 when he made a series of controversial stands on trigger issues like transexual pronouns and the position of masculinity in 21st century society. These views launched him onto the global stage of public intellectuals. His notoriety has been sustained by both his fans and detractors.

I personally have always felt a queasiness about the man and until tonight I couldn’t place my distaste. It isn’t so much that he pursues a very unoriginal socially conservative agenda under the mask of intellectual rigour, or that he seems to confuse, the accommodation of the vulnerable into society with authoritarianism, or even that like many self-help gurus before him mistakes personal revelation with universal truth - in fact my principle objection is all about instinct. That instinct is located in his general demeanour. There something in the pinched humourlessness and barely repressed anger that has echoes of past intolerant voices. His annoyance has two forms: his coquettish piques and then his more eruptive rants that seem to come from deep personal animus rather than considered analysis.

It’s always hard going to watch something with the fan boys because the audience is not there with open minds to the spectacle before them. I know this from my own bubbles of adoration for any film made by David Lynch or Jonathan Glaser I want it to be excellent. I am willing the experience to fulfill the expectations I have brought with me.

It was interesting to sit amongst the converted and feel their adoration from outside the circle. I could feel that every word uttered by the films subject would be a further building block for the belief system.

It’s also mystifying for the outsider to hear laughter in the audience to comments I could see no humour in. But I also realised that sometimes the laughter is a shared signal, an in-group reinforcement, from a shared meme I wasn’t party to. What I personally saw and felt was clearly so different from the reverence around me.

The film took a fairly conventional arc of describing the rise of Peterson through a series of set pieces and in fairness to the film makers there were a number of contrasting voices present, including transsexuals opposed to him and some fellow academics who had some clear points of difference to his world view but by and large the film operated as a biopic love-in. Starting with his early years teaching in Harvard, the publishing of his first book ‘Tracks of Meaning’ through to his more recent, internet ‘phenomenon’ status.

It’s focus seemed to be on exploring the human face of Peterson. Spending long periods at home with him in discussion with his wife and children and getting up close and personal with his daily routine and his huge oppressive collection of totalitarian propaganda painting. He waxed lyrical about these outsized socialist realist paintings of Lenin in his study, blanketing the walls. Apparently put there to remind him of the evils of socialism. He seemed happiest when he was picking away at the faults

of Lenin and Marx, yet a brief cut away revealing a painting in another room of a figure in Nazi regalia was not mentioned or discussed. In this collection of art I saw something of the obsession of the man, a mammoth project of immersing what seems a sensitive soul (long bouts of depression are mentioned frequently) in a cave of fury, where everything the left represents is simplistically reduced to the disastrous consequences of Russian communism and yet the dangers evident in his own attempts to harangue the marginal is never linked to the rise of fascism. The demagogue is always blind to the dark extremes of his own views .

I didn’t see Peterson as a committed right winger but as the film rolled on I saw a fragile ego becoming emboldened. His escape from the ‘black dog’ depression through personal discovery and his wife’s yoga is illuminating but too short. The delicate soul of the man is glimpsed but like his Nazi paintings never truly explored for fear of a soft underbelly being revealed. But this to me is the real source of his zeal. Tracking the classic new age hero’s tale, Peterson like Deepak Chopra or Eckhart Tolle before him has experienced a personal epiphany that lifts the cloud of anguish and reveals a path to redemption through a method. Peterson has converted his own personal salvation into a series of lessons to save humanity with his reflections . Suddenly the college professor with the righteous argument is exposed as simply another self help salesman. Leveraging his psychology background and Harvard tenure as respectable cover in a hum drum campaign for the hearts and minds of the emotionally fragile.

The clips of him signing books and greeting his fans (in largely empty venues) shows Peterson gleeful as his converts echo his divisive language, hugging a young fan as he talks of ‘neo Marxist’ take downs. Peterson uses the mantra of ‘personal responsibility’ to bring a set of political values into sharp relief. Rather than correct his awkward followers at their lack of intellectual inquiry he bolsters their shallow world view and plays the daddy role with dandyish aplomb.

What bothers me about Peterson is the fact that he does not want to question the needy assumptions of his fan base in the same way that he would his inquisitors on university campuses because he is a snob who knows his audience are followers, like all remedy sellers he doesn’t want to stop the consumption of the snake oil. Despite the fact as a professor he should be there to challenge young minds not play up to unhelpful language that boxes us all in.

This is a thread of conservative thought that dates back to the late 80’s. Peterson creates a set of pigeon holes to force the opposition into - ‘Political Correctness’, ‘neo marxist’, ‘social justice warrior’ all these are terms created by the right to define and target a series of affirmative actions undertaken on American campuses at that time. They are divisive and yet used repeatedly by a man who claims to be frustrated by both the right and the left. I agree that left wing pundits also bandy around terms like ‘fascist’, but if you choose to use these terms you choose a partisan position and it’s clear which one he has chosen.

I find his stand in transexual pronouns particular repugnant. My disquiet stems from his standpoint that a very small minority group (0.6% of the US population) and their desire for recognition in legislation is akin to a slide into authoritarianism. This in my view is particularly disingenuous. The outrage that is fanned by pundits like Peterson and Adam Shapiro is outrage at a non issue. The fact that cisgender white men may very rarely have to address a person by the pronoun ‘they’ or ‘them’ and feel some discomfort in negotiating this space is not a righteous argument it is just getting aerated by someone else’s business. They don’t have to like it, but they should accept it because essentially this helps transgender people negotiate their day in a hostile environment 24/7, so the fact it makes a white guy uncomfortable in the few small occasions when they have to talk to a transgender person is not a breakdown of civil society it is a reordering of who is included in our democracy, in the same way that language and law was adjusted to include women, gay people, and racial and religious minorities. Just as what name I call my child and which I then expect the world to address them by, is none of anyone’s business neither is how a transgender person wishes to be addressed. There is no history of transgender people creating fascist dictatorships. This is picking a fight with an enemy that does not want to fight or be your enemy. It is the kicking of the prone body just because it’s easier than taking on the real source of power in the world. There are deep philosophical questions about the root causes of our disintegrating political institutions and the co-opting of public life by corporations, that at least an eighth of the world’s money is stored in secret offshore vehicles for the benefit of a minuscule minority and that we face an existential collapse of all living systems as a direct result of this mismanagement of our economies. That is something for conservatives as well as progressives of all stripes to be concerned about. But that requires a mind with a more expansive outlook, a mind more embracing of complexity than Peterson’s. A man who’s narrow mind is not up to the task and I feel that will come to pass. I suspect that even as I leave the cinema his influence on public discourse is fading slowly from the public imagination so that at last, he can return to the bosom of his family and friend to carry on something he is competent at, the teaching of psychology at Toronto university.

[mjowatkins-blog]

An evening with the Jordanites

‘Why do those feminists go on about the patriarchy?’ - This was an overheard conversation in a pub after an evening watching a documentary film called the ‘Rise of Jordan Peterson’ at the Camden Odeon. I went there out of respect for a friend who asked me to go and also on some level to break the spell around Peterson that the online world has created. Jordan Peterson was a little known Canadian psychology professor until 2016 when he made a series of controversial stands on trigger issues like transexual pronouns and the position of masculinity in 21st century society. These views launched him onto the global stage of public intellectuals. His notoriety has been sustained by both his fans and detractors.

I personally have always felt a queasiness about the man and until tonight I couldn’t place my distaste. It isn’t so much that he pursues a very unoriginal socially conservative agenda under the mask of intellectual rigour, or that he seems to confuse, the accommodation of the vulnerable into society with authoritarianism, or even that like many self-help gurus before him mistakes personal revelation with universal truth - in fact my principle objection is all about instinct. That instinct is located in his general demeanour. There something in the pinched humourlessness and barely repressed anger that has echoes of past intolerant voices. His annoyance has two forms: his coquettish piques and then his more eruptive rants that seem to come from deep personal animus rather than considered analysis.

It’s always hard going to watch something with the fan boys because the audience is not there with open minds to the spectacle before them. I know this from my own bubbles of adoration for any film made by David Lynch or Jonathan Glaser I want it to be excellent. I am willing the experience to fulfill the expectations I have brought with me.

It was interesting to sit amongst the converted and feel their adoration from outside the circle. I could feel that every word uttered by the films subject would be a further building block for the belief system.

It’s also mystifying for the outsider to hear laughter in the audience to comments I could see no humour in. But I also realised that sometimes the laughter is a shared signal, an in-group reinforcement, from a shared meme I wasn’t party to. What I personally saw and felt was clearly so different from the reverence around me.

The film took a fairly conventional arc of describing the rise of Peterson through a series of set pieces and in fairness to the film makers there were a number of contrasting voices present, including transsexuals opposed to him and some fellow academics who had some clear points of difference to his world view but by and large the film operated as a biopic love-in. Starting with his early years teaching in Harvard, the publishing of his first book ‘Tracks of Meaning’ through to his more recent, internet ‘phenomenon’ status.

It’s focus seemed to be on exploring the human face of Peterson. Spending long periods at home with him in discussion with his wife and children and getting up close and personal with his daily routine and his huge oppressive collection of totalitarian propaganda painting. He waxed lyrical about these outsized socialist realist paintings of Lenin in his study, blanketing the walls. Apparently put there to remind him of the evils of socialism. He seemed happiest when he was picking away at the faults

of Lenin and Marx, yet a brief cut away revealing a painting in another room of a figure in Nazi regalia was not mentioned or discussed. In this collection of art I saw something of the obsession of the man, a mammoth project of immersing what seems a sensitive soul (long bouts of depression are mentioned frequently) in a cave of fury, where everything the left represents is simplistically reduced to the disastrous consequences of Russian communism and yet the dangers evident in his own attempts to harangue the marginal is never linked to the rise of fascism. The demagogue is always blind to the dark extremes of his own views .

I didn’t see Peterson as a committed right winger but as the film rolled on I saw a fragile ego becoming emboldened. His escape from the ‘black dog’ depression through personal discovery and his wife’s yoga is illuminating but too short. The delicate soul of the man is glimpsed but like his Nazi paintings never truly explored for fear of a soft underbelly being revealed. But this to me is the real source of his zeal. Tracking the classic new age hero’s tale, Peterson like Deepak Chopra or Eckhart Tolle before him has experienced a personal epiphany that lifts the cloud of anguish and reveals a path to redemption through a method. Peterson has converted his own personal salvation into a series of lessons to save humanity with his reflections . Suddenly the college professor with the righteous argument is exposed as simply another self help salesman. Leveraging his psychology background and Harvard tenure as respectable cover in a hum drum campaign for the hearts and minds of the emotionally fragile.

The clips of him signing books and greeting his fans (in largely empty venues) shows Peterson gleeful as his converts echo his divisive language, hugging a young fan as he talks of ‘neo Marxist’ take downs. Peterson uses the mantra of ‘personal responsibility’ to bring a set of political values into sharp relief. Rather than correct his awkward followers at their lack of intellectual inquiry he bolsters their shallow world view and plays the daddy role with dandyish aplomb.

What bothers me about Peterson is the fact that he does not want to question the needy assumptions of his fan base in the same way that he would his inquisitors on university campuses because he is a snob who knows his audience are followers, like all remedy sellers he doesn’t want to stop the consumption of the snake oil. Despite the fact as a professor he should be there to challenge young minds not play up to unhelpful language that boxes us all in.

This is a thread of conservative thought that dates back to the late 80’s. Peterson creates a set of pigeon holes to force the opposition into - ‘Political Correctness’, ‘neo marxist’, ‘social justice warrior’ all these are terms created by the right to define and target a series of affirmative actions undertaken on American campuses at that time. They are divisive and yet used repeatedly by a man who claims to be frustrated by both the right and the left. I agree that left wing pundits also bandy around terms like ‘fascist’, but if you choose to use these terms you choose a partisan position and it’s clear which one he has chosen.

I find his stand in transexual pronouns particular repugnant. My disquiet stems from his standpoint that a very small minority group (0.6% of the US population) and their desire for recognition in legislation is akin to a slide into authoritarianism. This in my view is particularly disingenuous. The outrage that is fanned by pundits like Peterson and Adam Shapiro is outrage at a non issue. The fact that cisgender white men may very rarely have to address a person by the pronoun ‘they’ or ‘them’ and feel some discomfort in negotiating this space is not a righteous argument it is just getting aerated by someone else’s business. They don’t have to like it, but they should accept it because essentially this helps transgender people negotiate their day in a hostile environment 24/7, so the fact it makes a white guy uncomfortable in the few small occasions when they have to talk to a transgender person is not a breakdown of civil society it is a reordering of who is included in our democracy, in the same way that language and law was adjusted to include women, gay people, and racial and religious minorities. Just as what name I call my child and which I then expect the world to address them by, is none of anyone’s business neither is how a transgender person wishes to be addressed. There is no history of transgender people creating fascist dictatorships. This is picking a fight with an enemy that does not want to fight or be your enemy. It is the kicking of the prone body just because it’s easier than taking on the real source of power in the world.

There are deep philosophical questions about the root causes of our disintegrating political institutions and the co-opting of public life by corporations, that at least an eighth of the world’s money is stored in secret offshore vehicles for the benefit of a minuscule minority and that we face an existential collapse of all living systems as a direct result of this mismanagement of our economies. That is something for conservatives as well as progressives of all stripes to be concerned about. But that requires a mind with a more expansive outlook, a mind more embracing of complexity than Peterson’s. A man who’s narrow mind is not up to the task and I feel that will come to pass. I suspect that even as I leave the cinema his influence on public discourse is fading slowly from the public imagination so that at last, he can return to the bosom of his family and friend to carry on something he is competent at, the teaching of psychology at Toronto university.

[citizentruth-blog]

Is Sacha Baron Cohen's New Show Bad for America? - PEER NEWS

New Post has been published on https://citizentruth.org/is-sacha-baron-cohens-new-show-bad-for-america/

Is Sacha Baron Cohen's New Show Bad for America?

Is Saron Baron Cohen’s new show bad for America? Maybe, maybe not. Maybe he’s just a comedian playing tricks on people for entertainment value, and we should just leave it at that. (Photo Credit: Joella Marino/Flickr)

He’s baaaaa-aaack!

Sacha Baron Cohen’s new show Who Is America? premiered this past Sunday on Showtime, the first episode in a seven-episode series that sees Baron Cohen return to the world of donning disguises and accents, and continuing to dupe people of influence into interviews and supporting positions publicly that undermine their credibility.

Ahead of its release, few details were released about who or what would appear on the show, save for Dick Cheney signing a “waterboarding kit” (which amounted to little more than a jug of water) in the promotional materials. Also, Sarah Palin copped to being played by Baron Cohen, although not without calling him “evil and sick” for tricking her, and Roy Moore threatening to sue Showtime over his chicanery. Clearly, the man has already struck a nerve.

At this writing, reviews are yet sparse, with only a handful having been aggregated by the likes of Metacritic. Having seen the premiere, I can say that Republicans are not the only targets of his comedy, although whether these figures are the jokes or whether Baron Cohen’s send-ups of American culture are tends to vary more as we move more leftward across the political spectrum. Bernie Sanders appears in a segment with Baron Cohen’s character Dr. Billy Wayne Ruddick, an Alex Jones-style conspiracy theorist, engaging in an absurd conversation where “Ruddick” engages in some warped math involving the one percent and 99 percent before Sanders confesses he has no idea what Ruddick is talking about.

As Rick Sherman, meanwhile, an ex-con who paints portraits with bodily fluids, Baron Cohen also meets with Christy Cones, a fine art consultant for Coast Gallery in Laguna Beach, who praises the bravery behind “Sherman’s” story and work. Since finding out about the ruse, Cones has evidently expressed a desire to meet face-to-face with Baron Cohen as “compensation for his underhanded tactics,” criticizing him for “pretending to be someone who suffered when he probably hasn’t suffered a moment in his life.” To what extent Cones may have “suffered” in her own life, who knows, but for someone who seemed a willing participant in the throes of the filming, certainly, she is not taking it all in stride after the fact.

Sacha Baron Cohen’s “art”—some might say I am being generous in calling it that—relies on deception and making people feel uncomfortable, both on screen and off it. It’s not a style for everyone, particularly those who feel victimized by their encounters with him and his portfolio of personas. In terms of perceptions of its quality, as noted, reviews are still being written or are in the waiting, but from my estimation, while entertaining, some segments play better than others. Baron Cohen, in his sit-down with June Page Thompson, a Trump delegate from South Carolina, and her husband and fellow Trump voter, Mark Thompson, as Dr. Nira Cain-N’Degeocello, a liberal Democrat who apologizes for his identity as a white cisgender male, tells accounts of raising his children that are obvious caricatures of liberalism taken to an extreme. The Thompsons don’t bite, though, or not to the extent that they angrily ask him to leave. It’s as if Baron Cohen is slow-playing them for a reaction he never gets, and the final product seems flat as a result.

The payoff proves larger for a segment in which Baron Cohen, as Col. Erran Morad, an Israeli anti-terrorism expert, convinces numerous gun rights advocates/Republican lawmakers to lend their support to an initiative that would arm children with guns as a means of curbing gun violence in schools. Rep. Matt Gaetz of Florida does not take the bait, but others, including Rep. Dana Rohrabacher of California, Rep. Joe Wilson of South Carolina, and former U.S. Senator Trent Lott, appeared only too happy to endorse the measure. It’s both funny and terrifying, and the most redeeming value is that these men consented to appear as they did and reading from prepared materials. That is, they can’t claim this is “fake news” because the tape doesn’t lie.

Whether or not the show is subjectively “good” or “bad” as a comedic creation does not approach, however, the subject of whether or not Who Is America? is a show that real-world America needs in the current political climate. This topic is at the heart of a recent piece by Aja Romano, Internet culture reporter for Vox, who believes Baron Cohen’s “prankster provocations are a bad match for our current cultural climate.” Declaring them “exhausting” and “dangerous,” Romano attempts to quickly poke a hole in the liberal balloon of giddiness in delighting over the trickery and debasement of conservative figureheads:

On the one hand, all this may seem like the beginning of a glorious sublime parade of politicians owning themselves. But on the other hand, these politicians were tricked into appearing on the record as themselves, in a way that further perpetuates and entrenches not only the cultural ideological divide, but the idea among conservatives that “liberal” media, including entertainment media like Baron Cohen’s production, is a constant and perpetual trap to be distrusted at all costs.

Not only that, but the mileage Team Reality will get out of Baron Cohen’s performance-art antics won’t be nearly as potent as the validation Team Fake News will get out of claiming that Who Is America? represents a new low for liberals. And that’s because Team Reality was losing its hold over a single dominant reality paradigm long before Baron Cohen cycled back onto the scene.

As Romano would have it, it’s not so much that Sarah Palin et al. allowed themselves to be deceived, but that someone like Baron Cohen, who may or may not have an ax to grind, is doing the deceiving and providing cannon fodder for conservatives in the ongoing “culture war” coloring much of political interaction today. In other words, the right does not need any more material, not when they are especially good at creating it—out of thin air, if need be.

The problem, as Romano tells it, is that Baron Cohen is an “old comedy dog with old comedy tricks.” Back in 2006, when the Borat movie was first released, his comedy was still fresh and novel, and YouTube and the 24-hour news cycle had yet to really explode. Now, YouTube pranksters are numerous, outrage over news is Twitter’s currency, and it’s getting harder and harder to tell what is the genuine article and what is a meme designed to provoke hysteria. As such, in an era when real news seems like a parody of itself, exposing celebrities as Baron Cohen does loses its (shock) value.

Romano also cites Ted Koppel, who reportedly was also interviewed for the show. While dealing with his being duped better than others, Koppel expresses real concern about whether or not the whole exercise is productive, saying that “if there’s one thing we don’t need any more of in this particular era, it’s people posing as documentarians,” and that “to undermine whatever tiny little bit of confidence might be left by pulling a stunt like this” may make for good comedy, but at the same time, might not be terrific for the “overall atmosphere.” When so much focus is levied on the cultural “divide” and people adhering to their social media “bubbles,” as a seasoned journalist, Koppel knows full well what is he talking about when he refers to such an atmosphere.

In all, as Aja Romano sees it, Sacha Baron Cohen is not adding to the national dialog, “but…gleefully poking at it and watching everyone — politicians and onlookers alike — get upset.” To wit, I am not familiar with Romano or her work, though that doesn’t mean her commentary is to be dismissed. It’s not like she is the only one concerned about where Who Is America? fits into the whole modern political conversation, either.

While any number of celebrities and humorists have extolled the show’s virtues — presumably because they genuinely enjoy the show and not merely as a show of solidarity—not everyone is as keen on labeling it “essential” viewing. Indeed, Charles Bramesco of The Guardian, for one, finds much of the program’s content “inconsequential,” and Mike Hale of The New York Times prefaces his review of the first episode with the tagline “Should We Care?” When Romano speaks to a larger exhaustion at having to deal with real politics, her assessment of Baron Cohen’s comedy as exhausting might just hit the nail on the head. Certainly, not everyone affixed to the “liberal media” is so amused by his antics.

Then again, it could be that the program is but one amid a glut of comedic programming devoted to the state of political affairs in the United States. With so many competing voices, perhaps it’s natural that Baron Cohen, delivering material in a format not dissimilar from his previous efforts, loses his appeal in light of all the alternatives. In a sea of angry (or wryly amused, at least) voices, maybe he was bound to be unable to add anything to our discourse before he began.

In asking whether or not Sacha Baron Cohen’s new show is “bad” for America, it should be stressed that, while this question is phrased in terms of a yes-or-no binary, a fitting answer may be simply that it is neither bad nor good for America — it just is. Even if Who Is America? isn’t deliberately provoking outrage from detractors on the right, therefore — already, it’s evident that it is provoking outrage, so the remaining debate is whether Baron Cohen should shoulder the lion’s share of the blame or whether his victims should for allowing themselves to get so PO-ed in the first place—and assuming, as Ms. Romano insists, that the program doesn’t add to the discussion but only entertains, might this be a counterproductive creation in that it keeps us stuck in place when we should be making progress on bridging the divide? That is, if we’re not moving forward, are we essentially moving backward?

In considering the utility (or potential lack thereof) of Baron Cohen’s show, I’m reminded of the media’s attempts to grapple with The Daily Show‘s popularity in the Jon Stewart era. At its peak, about 12 percent of Americans cited The Daily Show as a place where they got their news, according to an online poll by Pew Research in 2015. That didn’t make it a leader in news, of course, but it put the show roughly equal to sources like USA Today and Huffington Post. Stewart, ever self-effacing, has always been quick to downplay the show’s influence, at least as much as he brought to it, and even the results of the poll suggest most respondents watched for the entertainment value during his tenure rather than for in-depth reporting, the latest headlines, or views and opinions.

Any inherent limitations as a news source aside, Stewart’s 16-year stewardship of Comedy Central’s flagship program was admired for his being tough on public figures when the occasion arose, notably Barack Obama and Tony Blair, the latter for his insistence on military solutions to a war on terror which was becoming increasingly apparent could not be fought purely on military terms, but also had to confront the underlying ideologies.

Accordingly, while interviews with various entertainers seemed comparatively lightweight, the show’s regular dissection of the motives of established political figures and aspiring candidates alike, as well as the agendas of authentic news media outlets, was seen as meritorious. As with Michelle Wolf’s takedown of the news media alongside the political elite in the most recent White House Correspondents’ Dinner (Wolf herself is a Daily Show alum), comedy was a tool for Stewart and his confrères to cut through the bullshit and hold the objects of their critical lenses accountable.

And while Stewart downplayed this aspect of the show, too, his measured, rational approach to confronting the issues of the day prompted favorable responses, not to mention this column in The New Yorker from Amy Davidson Sorkin entitled “Jon Stewart, We Need You in 2016.” In an era in which more traditional news sources are either losing customers (newspapers) or credibility (cable news), The Daily Show seemed less like an escape from reality and more like a bastion of sanity, capped off by its trademark closing “Your Moment of Zen.” By this token, antipathy from the FOX News wing of political belief systems was considered more of a badge of honor than a legitimate admonishment to be honored or feared, with the conservative network billing itself as “fair and balanced” guilty of more than its fair share of biased “reporting.”

Besides, it is not as if Jon Stewart hasn’t been critical of Democrats. In fact, since ending his run as host of The Daily Show, he arguably has reserved his harshest rebukes for figures outside the GOP fold, as if to express his dismay and disapproval with a party that has appeared, at times, to lack a unified message or to act in accordance with its stated values. In a notably tense exchange in a live podcast taping with David Axelrod for The Axe Files, Stewart blamed the Dems, in part, for the rise of a demagogue like Donald Trump by not doing their part to make government more effective and efficient for their constituents. There was still plenty of humor to be enjoyed throughout, although perhaps not as irreverently told as when he was host of The Daily Show — and not without plenty of harsh words for “man-baby” Trump.

This is where I’m a little unsure how to regard Sacha Baron Cohen’s latest act. The backlash from the Joe Arpaios, Roy Moores and Sarah Palins of the world is to be expected, and deceiving them, one might argue, is going after some low-hanging fruit, politically speaking. Then again, when has the provocateur suggested he is interested in anything else but entertainment? If the first episode of Who Is America? is any indication, everyone is fair game, including liberals, so allegations of bias might be deemed overstated.

What’s more, this irritation at Baron Cohen’s humor seems indicative of a larger trend of conservatives reacting negatively to jokes made at their expense, either because of their inability to take a joke, their frustration with having drastically fewer comedians at their disposal in alignment with their ideologies, or both. Liberal humor panning conservatives seems rooted in poking fun at people like Sean Hannity, Sarah Palin, and Donald Trump who carry themselves so seriously and yet merit none of the respect they crave.

When the script is flipped, meanwhile, stabs at comedy feel predicated on lazy stereotypes, if not real contempt for the objects of the joke-maker’s gaze and/or resentment of the perceived snobbery of the left. Or it could be that so many people who enjoy humor with their political news tend to be younger, and by association, more liberal. Or it could be that conservatism is about preserving the status quo, and is therefore fundamentally at odds with comedy, the milieu of the underdog. Or, as comedian Dean Obeidallah would aver, it’s that conservatives want desperately to be funny, but just aren’t very good at it. While humor indeed is subjective, statistically speaking and for what it’s worth, it’s hard to come up with many examples of successful right-leaning comedians. You can fill in the blanks herein as you see fit.

Is Who Is America? a great show, or even among Sacha Baron Cohen’s best work? Probably not. Is it good for America? Maybe, maybe not, though having already outed a number of GOP lawmakers for supporting the right of kindergartners to bear arms, it feels like Baron Cohen has already done fine work. But at the end of the day, perhaps it’s not Baron Cohen’s job to provide hard-hitting commentary, much as it wasn’t incumbent upon Jon Stewart to be a clarion call amid the static of the cable news cycle and the entropy of the social media sphere. Let the funny man play dress-up and prank people, calls for civility aside. There are those in Congress, in the Supreme Court, and the White House who are specifically tasked with upholding major American institutions, and are thereby more deserving of our scorn. No kidding.

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#Bernie Sanders #Dick Cheney #Jon Stewart #Roy Moore #Sacha Baron Cohen #Sarah Palin #Who Is America show