#the most uncomfortable scenes are often also the most brilliantly written

[empty-movement]

you know the stereotype about utena fans

well

let's take a specific sequence and compare the four primary translations of Utena that I know of. why this one? because i know we changed it and also sequences with these two had a lot of minor telling differences from one effort to the next

Revolutionary Girl Utena, Episode 25, Our Eternal Apocalypse

1998, UTP fan project:

Touga: You're driving quite fast. Akio: She's purring nicely, don't you think? Care to take the wheel? Touga: What? But I still don't… Akio: You're too strict… Touga: That was a rather indecent proposal, Mr. Chairman.

2003, Central Park Media DVD:

T: We're really flying down the road... A: The throb of the engine feels good, doesn't it? A: Care to take the wheel? T: Hm? But I'm not old enough.. A: Such a strict boy. T: That wasn't a fair proposal, Mr. Chairman.

2011, Nozomi Blu-ray, edited from the CPM translation via a fan led project that was us and you and it was awesome:

T: We're really flying down the road... A: The throb of the engine feels good, doesn't it? A: Care to take the wheel? T: Hm? But I'm not old enough.. A: How upright of you. T: That was an indecent proposal, Mr. Chairman.

2023, Some-Stuffs fan translation project:

T: You're flying down the road. A: Exquisite vibrations, no? A: Care to take the wheel? T: Huh? But I'm still not... A: Well, aren't you stiff? T: That was rather inappropriate, Board Chairman.

Do you like what you see? Is this level of ridiculous exactness interesting to you? Do you think these decades-spanning comparisons add anything to the discussion?

Well join our forum, Something Eternal, then. Because in the time it took for me to type this up for the Tumblr post, forum member xenofem dropped this in the thread about comparisons of the text with other examples already there broken down by color look just go

Looking at that exchange in episode 25 line by line: Touga: 随分飛ばすんですね。 The subject of this sentence is elided, which is what's leading to the discrepancies around we vs. you. The verb, "tobasu", is literally "to make something fly" or "to send something flying", but can also refer to driving a vehicle fast, or moving fast through things. The object is also elided, the literal meaning is clearly the car but there could also be room for innuendo here.

ok no but seriously, so much amazing stuff has already happened on this babby ass forum that I can barely keep up, we have birding threads and Baldur's Gate 3 threads and new fans posting their reactions as they watch for the first time threads and terfs are banned on sight

#utena #revolutionary girl utena #empty movement #utena forum #utena translation #utena analysis #utena meta #apparently the 'well aren't you stiff' one is the most accurate #which figures because it's also the worst #in utena #the most uncomfortable scenes are often also the most brilliantly written

[yurimother]

LGBTQ Manga Review - Killing Me!

Yuri being employed for comedic effect is nothing new. Frequently this is done by having one character irresistibly attracted to another female and make inappropriate advances on her for laughs. Yuri manga Killing Me puts a spin on this trope by having the other girl like the pursuer back. The yuri is front and center in this hilarious romantic manga. Of course, love may have to wait for a little bit, the protagonists are busy trying to kill each other.

Killing Me by Akiyama centers on vampire hunter Saki Fujimiya and her relationship with Miyoko Kujou, who is both her classmate and the vampire she is tasked with killing. The two of them live double lives, in the classroom Saki is poised and popular while Miyoko is constantly flirting with her and professing her love, making her the only person that can get under Saki’s skin. However, at night and in the moments between classes, they engage in brutal conflicts. Saki attempts to kill Miyoko who, just as she does in school, flirts and toys with the hunter. 

The dynamic of school life and combat between the two girls is incredibly well executed and hilarious. I openly laughed numerous times at their misadventures and battles. The two have a lot of chemistry and the dialogue of the outlandish combat scenarios is well written. However, the most interesting aspect of the conflict between the two is that, no matter how many times she has the opportunity to, Saki does not kill Miyoko.

Saki struggles to comprehend her feelings and relationship with Miyoko through the manga. Yes, she attacks her with intent to kill frequently, but, she is never able to go through with it. She begins to display affect towards Miyoko, such as when the vampire attempts to drink someone else's blood and Saki gets jealous. On more than one occasion they socialize outside of class or battle, even going shopping together. There is a constant back and forth conflict in Saki between her duty as a hunter to kill Miyoko and her feelings for the vampire. This conflict is excellently portrayed with constant rationalization and brilliantly illustrated confusion on Saki’s part. Her feelings and their relationship progress excellently throughout the manga, which is a great plus, considering that it easily could have just relied on replaying the same gag of the two fighting without either growing or the plot advancing.

I do have some complaints about the story, mainly in its resolution. Saki never seems to sort out her feelings entirely. Although she does come to accept her love for Miyoko, she does not give up her resolve to murder the girl. This feels incomplete, which is a shame considering that the rest of the plot is so engaging and builds on the girls’ dynamics incredibly well. However, at the end of the day, the ending is not bad, just disappointing. 

The characters of Killing Me are not quite as good as the story. As previously mentioned, Saki has some fantastic and riveting inner conflict about her relationship with Miyoko. She also undergoes emotional growth throughout the volume as she struggles with her feelings about their relationship. However, a bit too often she displays characteristics of the typical “tsundere” characters. This has been done so many times before far better. These instances are played for some of the cheapest laughs the volume has to offer.

Unlike Saki, Miyoko does not have much of an emotional or character arc. She remains the same flirtatious, playful, and two-dimensional character throughout Killing Me. When compared to Saki the contrast is so striking that sometimes Miyoko feels like more of a prop or gag for the hunter’s arc, rather than a character. This can occasionally mean that the manga becomes less about their relationship and more about the individual character. However, the scenes in which Miyoko and Saki are together and interacting as equals the series is at its best. The chemistry between the two girls sells the series’ laughs and its romance.

Akiyama’s art is at its best during the fight scenes of Killing me. Although brief, these scenes are as dynamic and detailed as the best shonen manga. Outside of battle, the art is still high quality. I appreciate how background characters and details make the world of the series feel full. However, I am put off by the awkward faces in the manga, especially the inconsistent spacing of the eyes. Too often they are far too wide, especially when shown straight on. Fortunately, the characters are usually shown from the side or at angles which make the awkward eyes far less noticeable. The manga also includes several amazing color illustrations by Akiyama and several prominent guest artists at the beginning and end of the volume. These are a wonderful addition and I am even considering buying the digital release just to grab a few of them as wallpapers for my smartphone.

While I first expected the yuri elements of Killing Me to consist mostly of service and humor, there is a real romantic and sexual connection between the characters. Miyoko’s constant exclamations of love initially got on my nerves almost as much they did Saki’s, but the series later won me over with the flirtations between the girls. The few moments when Saki makes advances on Miyoko, a change from the girls’ usual dynamic, are especially riviting. Saki is also territorial of Miyoko, which, while off-putting in a real relationship, can be adorable in the comedic confines of the fantasy. While the girls do express their affection for each other repeatedly in their own, occasionally homicidal, way, there is no defined relationship between the two. While it would have been nice to see a hunter and vampire declare themselves dating, readers will have to be satisfied with their continued game of cat and mouse as the core of their romance.

Killing Me has a fair amount of lewd content in it. There is some light service such as kissing, hugging, and seductively leaning over each other while gazing into uncomfortably spaced eyes. However, it is not afraid to get a bit heavier at times, such as when Saki throws Miyoko onto a bed and offers the vampire her blood... and cleavage. Fortunately, there is a lack of weirdly shaped free-floating boobs flying around the pages and even the more scandalous outfits, such as the Gothic dress Miyoko fights in, are realistic and not too gross.

Killing Me is a fantastically funny manga with a great setting and an engaging plot. Vampire hunter Saki and vampire Miyoko have a fantastic dynamic that brings laughs and some great character moments. Occasionally the series blunders as it tries to balance its main characters and struggles to find a real conclusion. However, the spicy romance and fun to be had more than make Killing Me worth checking out. Hunters, vampires, and yuri fans alike will adore Akiyama’s work.

You can purchase Killing Me! digitally and in paperback today: https://amzn.to/2Z5uPGg

Ratings: Story – 8 Characters – 6 Art – 7 LGBTQ – 3 Lewd – 4 Final – 7

Review copy provided by @yenpress

#yuri #reviews #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtq+ #manga #vampires #girls love #wlw #gay #queer #anime #comic #read #literature #killing me #yen press #gl

[gamingandeducating]

Life Is Strange 2: Episode 2

While Episode 1 started off the Diaz brothers absconding from the law, meeting everyone’s favourite fictional travel blogger, getting captured by a weird old guy, learning which berries to eat and to avoid AND owning a puppy, you would expect episode 2 to follow up the bumper episode with more action and start driving the plot forward, sadly not.

So straight out the gate, what the fuck guys? Really? Mushroom? Life is Strange has also been good at giving you ownership of your choices and made the characters contingent on your decisions, or at least given you the illusion that this was the case, but within about 10 minutes your dog dies with (from what I can tell) no way for you to avoid this. I am not against these set piece events that are unavoidable in order to have the narrative impact and give the motivation to characters to move forward, but this had no impact for me. Mushroom is introduced late in episode 1 and killed in the first chapter of episode 2 and this leaves me to ask the question, is this here for shock value? And sadly my answer is, yes. It feels unnecessary, almost like the worst parts of the walking dead or GOT, the idea that the devs need to be hard-arsed and hit you in the gut unrelentingly. The choice that they gave was semi-interesting but for me the whole thing smacked of needing a hook for the episode and this was the choice they made. 

The episode moves on and we meet Sean and Daniel’s grandparents. They are written and acted brilliantly. They are quite clearly not your classic warm and cuddly grandparents who wrap you up in warm blankets and pull at your cheeks, but the week you spend with them does offer them an opportunity to grow and develop this side. In this section we also meet Chris, AKA Captain Spirit. I didn't play Captain Spirit and after some reading about what happened I am really glad I didn't. I thought Chris was a normal kid, not unlike myself at that age, making up stories, running around, falling off shit and his dad was just a guy going through relationship problems, however the metaness of the whole thing would have lead me to play this whole sequence differently. While I was uncomfortable in Chris’s dad’s truck as he told me about how hard he finds life, it was because I was a teenager who didn't know how to deal with this random guy spilling his heart to me and not because this guy beats his kid. For me this was a better theme to hit on. The idea that behind normal family issues might be bigger, darker problems and I think I will go back to Captain Spirit now (although like I said, I think playing CS first would have ruined this experience rather than adding to it). I also enjoyed the scene at the market, it was pleasant and I felt safe for myself and my brother. So safe in fact that I spent money which I had been hoarding the weeks prior. The interaction with Cassidy was meh and I couldn't help but feel how superficial and manufactured this interaction felt, but we did pick a Christmas tree, so its not all bad.

The last act was pretty dumb as well and I hated most of it. The “breaking in” to your mum’s room was boring as hell and when you got in there all the advice about being careful just goes out the window. I get it, you’re kids, but actually Sean is surprisingly mature and knows his way around the cautious brother routine, and yet doesn't keep an ear out for the grandparents returning from church and instead gets stuck reading a letter that seems to be a paragraph long for about 2 minutes. Its just a bit ridiculous and my emersion was completely shattered when Sean couldn't say (the writers didn't provide me with) anything that could have shown how absurd it is that my grandparents hide my mother’s presence from me. Where LIS excels is that it’s dialogue feels pretty real, sure the hella’s and cool kid speak is not frequent in my everyday conversation but the content of the conversation is fair and they normally present me with a choice that I would say in that situation, however this time they didn't. I was always defending myself as opposed to attacking the lies and secrecy and that didn't feel right for a 16 year old full of idealism. I am in two minds about the final choice as I am not sure what the consequences of it truly were but that is when games of the genre work best. When the decision you make doesn't have obvious consequences or when we look back and say “X happened because I did Y” but the subtle ripples are often the most satisfying. 

This episode felt like filler in all of the worst ways. There was little to no character progression, little backstory and remarkably little consequence. I think most worryingly of all I still dont know what the point of Season 2 is and we are 40% through and I hope that it will gain some focus in the next weed filled episode. 

#xbox one #xbox one x #ps4 #ps4 pro #video games #video game review #life is strange #life is strange 2 #choose your own adventure #captain spirit

[wheatbeats]

2018 is over and I feel compelled to write a retrospective of sorts, but since I don’t feel like talking about myself I’m gonna talk about Every Anime (Series) I Watched in 2018. Each one comes with a numerical rating out of 10 and a short blurb of what I thought about it.

Recovery of an MMO Junkie - 9/10 - Incredibly sweet and heartfelt, with mature adult characters who act as such. Drama and comedy both are mined from real issues rather than petty miscommunication, and is all the more compelling for it.

Land of the Lustrous - 10/10 - A delightfully unique setting with an enrapturing story and fantastically constructed characters. The moments of levity and sweetness only serve to make the deeply engrained sadness and loneliness more poignant. The CGI animation is shockingly gorgeous, and a triumph of the medium.

Kino’s Journey: The Beautiful World (2018) - 5/10 - Certainly entertaining in spots, but ultimately rings rather hollow. Not really an improvement on the original in any respect.

Princess Principal - 8/10 - An absolutely gorgeous setting brimming with atmosphere and style, and a fun ensemble cast. The series-wide arc is a little hard to follow or understand, but each individual episodic plot is really enjoyable and engaging.

The Vision of Escaflowne - 8/10 - A well-built fantasy that’s occasionally ridiculous but never not fun. The new dub is really slick and helps the series go down nice and smooth.

A Place Further Than the Universe - 10/10 - Extraordinarily sweet, earnest and heartfelt. Deftly written, smartly directed, and masterfully executed. I cried really hard, a lot. 

Tsuredure Children - 8/10 - Cute, ridiculous, and eminently relatable. If you’ve ever had a crush, you’re bound to identify with at least one character in this series.

From the New World - 5/10 - Had a glimmer of potential, but mostly ended up fake deep, poorly paced, and fucking ugly to look at. The more I thought about this series the less I realized I enjoyed it.

The Ancient Magus’ Bride - 5/10 - An extraordinarily promising start that’s disappointingly squandered by wildly inconsistent tone, static plots, nonsensical character arcs, excessive cliffhangers, and hollow stakes.

Princess Tutu - 10/10 - An expertly built deconstruction of fairy tales as well as a sweeping, gorgeous love note to ballet, classical music, and romantic storybook heroism. Wonderfully intricate plotting and stunning character work, a true gem.

Kaiba - 8/10 - Brilliantly unique and emotionally engrossing, if not a bit obscure and hard to follow at times. You never have, and probably never will again, see an anime quite like this.

Girls’ Last Tour - 7/10 - Deeply atmospheric and sometimes quite poignant, but also dreadfully, awfully, agonizingly slow.

Haven’t You Heard? I’m Sakamoto - 9/10 - A smooth and even mix between laughable absurdity and actual real emotional stakes. Somehow, I feel like I learned something about myself.

Megalobox - 8/10 - Briskly paced and action-packed, but by far the biggest draw is a classic 90s aesthetic reminiscent of pre-digital legends like Cowboy Bebop. This series lives and breathes style.

Legend of the Galactic Heroes: Die Neue These - 6/10 - Would have the potential to be interesting if it wasn’t so hollow and boring. I wanted to get more engaged in the politics of this complicated war, but the plot is held at arms length and the characters are more like walking philosophy textbooks than actual people. That said, the ship designs are pretty cool.

Hinamatsuri - 10/10 - Sweet, pure-hearted, and gut-bustingly funny. Any moment I wasn’t laughing until my sides hurt, I was near to tearing up from actually caring about these characters so much. Each episode was a joy and I loved every second of it.

Golden Kamuy (S1) - 7/10 - Absurd, charming, and goofy, with a surprising amount of gore. Seems to care more about food than plot, but I’m kind of into it.

Revolutionary Girl Utena - 9/10 - Brilliantly dense, symbolic, and metaphorical. Sometimes hard to understand, sometimes hard to watch, but always excellent.

Dragon Pilot: Hisone & Masotan - 7/10 - Gorgeously animated and undeniably charming, but still a little awkward, garbled, and uncomfortable at times. The most earnest vore anime I’ve ever watched.

Steins;Gate 0 - 4/10 - A total, utter, crushing disappointment. Follows up a spectacular prequel with a nonsensical, contrived plot, inaccurate characters, and piss-poor visuals. This series is only carried by its relationship to the original. I will never trust again.

Princess Jellyfish - 7/10 - Charming, varied characters populating an unfulfilling narrative.

The Big O - 6/10 - Plenty of goofy, stylish fun, but slowly devolves into an inscrutable, incomprehensible mess. R. Dorothy Wayneright is the best part of this series by far. Roger Smith is a louse.

Aggretsuko - 7/10 - Fun and relatable, if a bit simple. 

TOP 3

3. Hinamatsuri - This series came totally out of left field for me. I usually don’t emotionally respond to comedies very well but this one somehow hit all the right buttons. None of the humor was mean-spirited or put anyone down, the situations were absurd but didn’t cripple me with secondhand embarrassment, and on top of it all I really started to care about the cast. I wish I could get surprised like this more often.

2. Land of the Lustrous - As you can tell if you’ve been following me at all recently, this series has been absolutely consuming me from the moment I watched it. The plot is gripping and excellently paced, and I don’t know if I’ve ever been invested in another main character quite as much as Phos. It’s plenty easy to get wrapped up in thinking about the plot and the character arcs and the meta, but then when I go back and watch the series again I’m shocked by how good it is on a technical level, too. The CG animation is beyond gorgeous and the technical grace of each scene, the pacing, the colors, the music, the character animation, the voice acting, are all stellar. If this anime had more of an ending it would absolutely be my number 1 pick, but for now I just have to read the manga (AS SHOULD YOU, YOU COWARDS. IT’S EVERY BIT AS GOOD AS THE ANIME).

1. Princess Tutu - I, like many people, I think, reacted with derision at the title of this series, but by the time I was done I was completely blown away, and every time I thought about it more I was even more shocked. Every inch of this series shows some of the smartest construction I’ve ever seen in fiction, every layer is filled with stylistic flourish, brilliant writing, and metatextual commentary. You can dig as deep as you want and Princess Tutu will always have something to offer you. It’s been less than a year, I’ve already watched it twice, and I’m still discovering new things about it. A story this brilliant would be a once in a lifetime experience on its own, but Tutu is fulfilling on the surface level, too. Even if you’re not diving deep into what the series means you can still be just as enraptured by the characters. Fakir probably has the best redemption arc this side of Prince Zuko, and I could sing the praises of every other major cast member. And the music, the music! I was doomed from the start the moment I heard both The Nutcracker and Pictures at an Exhibition in the score. Princess Tutu takes some of the greatest masterpieces of western art music and builds off them, creating a sense of atmosphere as deep and vast and dramatic as the finest opera or ballet could ever be. Princess Tutu is one of the greatest works of fiction I’ve ever consumed, and absolutely the best I’ve watched this year.

BOTTOM THREE

3. From the New World - Immediately after I stopped watching this series I actually sort of thought I’d liked it, and I think the reason for this is because From the New World tries its very best to engage in ideas a bit deeper and more ambiguous than a lot of other anime do. But the more I thought about it, the more I disliked this series. Everything about the plot was confusing and off-putting, I didn’t find the characters particularly charming, and perhaps most of all, this series is butt-ugly. It might have a high score of MAL. but my advice is to give this series a hard pass.

2. The Ancient Magus’ Bride - I wanted to like this series so fucking bad. I fell in love with the prequel OVA and waited anxiously for each new installment to come out. I even bought tickets to my local Artsy Fartsy Theater to see the first three episodes when the screened there. And I liked them! Finally, an anime engaged in Celtic and English mythology, some of my favorites, and a protagonist with a truly gripping internal struggle. I was certain from the very first moment that this series would sit in my Top 10 list, and that Chise would be one of my favorite protagonists ever. And then it... didn’t happen. As the episodes unfolded I was treated to a series that had no idea how to establish or maintain stakes, how to relate its two main characters to each other, or how to use the wealth of mythology it was referencing and drawing from. How am I supposed to care when Chise gets stabbed in the chest every 2 episodes and then just kind of shrugs it off for the sake of drama? How am I supposed to be interested in the mythology when it’s all just watered-down fantasy archetypes with giant boobs? Don’t even get me started on the main villain. I feel very betrayed by this series and honestly I’m still bitter.

1. Steins;Gate 0 - This series is as much a lesson in betrayal as Ancient Magus’ Bride, but I think this one stings worse because it’s preceded by Steins;Gate, and anime I love dearly. I sincerely believe that the original Steins;Gate is one of the best anime ever produced, and this sequel struggles to live up to even a single aspect of it. As it began I was hopeful- I liked the darker tone, I liked the idea of a story within a failed timeline. But as I kept watching, I realized something awful: I was bored. All of the charm and intrigue was gone. The characters were all acting different, all looked different (why are all the girls wearing skintight winter coats? Why have their chests all inflated three sizes??), and there was no impetus for the plot. Steins;Gate was driven by simple goals; in the first half, it was to build a time-leap machine. In the second half, it was to save Mayuri. In Steins;Gate 0 the impetus is to... watch Okabe be sad. Hope he gets less sad. There’s nothing to keep the plot moving, and this listlessness was so overwhelming that the random bits of unforeshadowed action and unprecedented (for this franchise) violence felt cheap and confusing after the doldrums we just sat through. By the time the plot finally, finally, picks up towards the final quarter of the series, the damage is done. I don’t care anymore, I can’t figure out what’s going on, and I’m just so done with a franchise I used to love. One day I’ll go back and rewatch the original Steins;Gate and remind myself why I cared so much, but for now I’m nursing wounds. If you say the name “Kagari” in my presence, I’ll probably blitz the fuck out.

Here’s to a good 2019!

#princess tutu #land of the lustrous #hinamatsuri #the ancient magus' bride #steins;gate 0

[cardandpixel]

...and 2 I forgot..

Hey happy gamesters, in yesterday’s post I banged on about 8.5 games that I always grab to take to (now imaginary) game evenings, but crucially (and mainly because they were sat on another shelf when my addled brain was listing them) I missed out 2 other games that also (used to) go with us just about everywhere. In some respects, they are probably guilty of their own familiarity, so I’m not entirely to blame....

IN A BIND (now Yogi) - Stuff By Bez  Behrooz Shahriari  Apx £9  In the olden days, if we wanted to get all physically twisty and generally uncomfortable, we’d either go to Yoga run by our sadist friend Nigel, or play the classic game for making folk who don’t know each other well and yet physically engage with them more than on a 5th date, Twister. What Bez has done with the brilliant and hilarious In A Bind is to distill down what was funny and engaging about Twister, and yet strip away that uncomfortable grinding with a stranger. I’ve written much more about the brilliant Bez and her games here, but in essence, In A Bind is a set of cards which demand of the player to make life difficult for themselves, such as “Place this card between thumb and forefinger” or “Cover your left eye” or my most feared one “Elbow above shoulder” (honestly, try it, it’s a nightmare). In the next round, you draw another card (if you still can) and crucially must still fulfill all the criteria of your previous cards. This quickly gets out of hand (NPI) and has in past games led to people getting on tables, under tables, cards in clothing, under glasses, tucked into bra straps - you get the idea.  For the picky, In A Bind does rely on some degree of trust to ensure that everyone is still keeping track of what all their cards say, but honestly - no-one cares. Everyone will be laughing so hard and having so much fun, that it just doesn’t matter. Most folk will take the cards waaay further than they were intending, and strangely often make life actually more difficult for themselves than less. Simple rule, if you drop a card, you’re out. This can be a blessed relief sometimes and so this is the ONE game where I break my golden rule that I hate elimination games. Going out allows you to sit back, relax, rub on your favourite muscular salve and just carry on watching your friends keep torturing themselves more than a session with a physiotherapist called Patricia with a chip on her shoulder about why Brian left her for a dental hygienist. What Bez has created with In A Bind is a stroke of no minor genius. It is a game that immediately engages everyone round the table; doesn’t make anyone feel emotionally uncomfortable (unlike the bumping and grinding in Twister); doesn’t overstay its welcome, and will genuinely leave you with some of the happiest gaming memories you will ever have. The first time we played In A Bind was at UKGE a few years ago: we couldn’t find a table one evening for love nor money and so we ended up with a group of us (some we knew, some we didn’t) in a corridor near the bar, and we just went for it. Very soon we were all doubled up and helpless with laughter and looking like we were all auditioning for Quasimodo roles at Disneyland, and John Robertson (The Dark Room) wandered past. I know John, he’s a lovely and gloriously strange guy, and he looked at the scene, looked me in the eye and quietly said “You guys are weird” - yes, this game prompted John ‘Ya Die Ya Die’ Robertson to call someone else weird. It’s a great game, and deserves to go down as an utter classic. Sidebar: A while ago, In A Bind got picked up by Gigamic and re-released as Yogi, but I have a feeling if you find Bez at cons (and you really should meet Bez, she’s one of the loveliest people in gaming!) you might still be able to win one of the rare original versions with Bez’s brilliant handdrawn artwork. Bez has the best competitions and booths at any con.

COCKROACH POKER - Devir  Jacques Zeimet apx £8 I was first introduced to this devious little whelp of a game again, in the bar at UKGE (why do so many games come from random meetings?) several years ago, and it has become a staple of games evenings ever since. It has also become a nemesis of a game between me and muh good friend Dave. I love that I have friends who know me massively well, but it does make playing games sometimes intensely difficult - especially bluffing games, and bluffing is pretty much the modus operandi of Cockroach Poker. The premise is simple, players have a hand of bug cards and must try and give their cards away. This can be done honestly, or ideally by lying thru your teeth about what you are handing off. Players may call you out immediately, if they are wrong, they keep the card and place it in front of themselves, if they’re right, you keep it. They may also pass the card to another player and so on. If you end up with 4 of any one bug type in front of you, you’re out. It’s brilliantly tense, usually hilarious, and refreshingly short, maybe 10-15mins per game. It’s one of those games you don’t just drop in a bag, but take with you almost everywhere. Dave knows my most hated phrase is “Paul, this is a scorpion” because it always is, unless it isn’t. It’s cheap, it’s hilarious, the artwork is great and sufficiently abstract and cartoon-y that I don’t think I’ve ever known an otherwise bug-phobic player to have a problem, but it’s worth considering. Both these games are brilliant, pack a real game punch for a tiny investment of both money or time, and have years of replayability. I’d recommend both of them highly for pockety goodness. Sidebar: Please note, if you are following the link to my previous article on Bez, since writing that article some years ago, I have become aware of a change in Bez’s personal pronoun and therefore the older article features what is now an error. I must apologise to Bez for this, and if I can find the original article to correct it I will, but apologise for the error until then! Sorry Bez! Happy gaming y’all 

#cockroachpoker #boardgaming #inabind #bez #poker #fun

[madamspeaker]

Network at the National Theatre

Let me first preface by say that I was rather cynical, more accurately I was doubtful when it came to Network. I never doubted the choice of Bryan Cranston for the role of Howard Beale - once you say his name and the part, you can just picture it, but I was decidedly worried about the overall production right up until the rehearsal photographs were released just under two weeks ago. My main concern was director Ivo van Hove, who has had a rather patchy run of late. A View from The Bridge was amazing, but I detested his take on Hedda Gabler, and his summer run of work at the Barbican was met with somewhat lukewarm praise. Also there was the fact that all most of us knew at the NT about the production for months was that the public would be eating on stage - which frankly seemed to baffle everybody (more on that later). So yeah, I was pretty cagey on Network - I honest to god feared it would be some bare stage arty crap with random people munching through dinner like some pretentious Turner Prize installation. The good news is that it is not. Network is very good, bordering on the genuine great. Yes, it’s a tad over gimmicky, and I would argue that some things should be cut, but overall it’s a rollicking good night of entertainment. Cranston is, to the shock of no one, amazing. It’s no easy feat following Peter Finch into what is such an iconic role, but Cranston makes it his own, brilliantly going through the mood swings of what is ultimately a tormented guy, rudderless and desperately trying to find some meaning to his life, whilst at the same finding this torment exploited - is at times complicit in. There are moments of such devastating pathos that you feel uncomfortable about what’s happening to him, and yet just as quickly you become swept up in his anger - revelling in the entertainment of it. Network is, if nothing else, a bloody timely choice for the world we live in now.

Anyone familiar with the original movie will know that it garnered three acting Oscar wins, and a fourth Oscar for it’s screenplay. Lee Hall who has adapted it pretty much sticks with most of the original script - some of it actually just lifted from the film, but I would be inclined to argue that he’s kept some stuff that perhaps should be ditched, or at least abridged, and jettisoned some of the film that needed to be in the play. For the most part we’re talking minor quibbles here, but there are two scenes, two very famous scenes in the movie that earned Ned Beatty an Oscar nomination and Beatrice Straight an Oscar win, and with the greatest respect to the two actors on stage, neither can carry those two monologues in the way their film counter parts do to justify the time they get. The Beatty monologue from the film is actually one of the most important parts of the movie, it needs to be there in some form as it’s the defining moment in what eventually befalls Howard, but on stage I found myself becoming bored with it. Part of me thinks it needed shortened, made more punchy, because on stage, and whether this is the fault of writing, acting, or direction, it drags, and drags badly. The Straight monologue, actually the Louise Schumacher monologue to be accurate, is just surpurflous to requirements on stage - in fact it’s a bit cringe inducing at one point, to the degree that I heard an odd titter of laughter, which is not what that speech is about at all. There’s a reason Beatrice Straight won an Oscar for it, for what was in fact less than 6 minutes of screen time, but that moment just feels like another drag on stage.

Oscar talk brings me to Michelle Dockery in the role Faye Dunaway won hers for. Dockery is good in the role of Diana Christensen, but as written on stage it’s not really a lead part. I’d be inclined to call her performance and indeed the actual role, Dunaway-lite. Dockery’s mannerisms, especially the hands and the walk, seem at times to be taken from the movie, but the intensity isn’t quite there yet. This was preview four, so there’s room for things to evolve, but whilst we get the character’s ambition and her intelligence, be it morally very questionable, I didn’t quite buy into her emotional need to succeed in the way that on film Dunaway always seemed like she was plugged into the mains - full of energy, bristling with it, her life and what was left of her soul completely wrapped up in ratings and success. I also didn’t quite buy the romance plot either, which I think is either something that should have been ditched, or something that needed to have a few more scenes to develop on stage. As it is, it’s there, but it doesn’t do anything. On film, it provided the William Holden character of Max Schumacher with a further emotional dilemma - falling for the woman who was essentially exploiting his best friend’s breakdown, but as it is at the moment on stage, it seems to come from nowhere, sex is had (a genuinely hilarious scene), wife is pissed, but you never quite get how all this effects Schumacher and his pal, Howard. All this sounds negative, but I’m actually just really nitpicky, because overall the play is damn good. The Lyttelton stage hasn’t looked this amazing in a while. It’s a massive bugger - deep and wide, and often plays and performances can get a bit lost on that expanse, but van Hove and his team have used the entire space so brilliantly. Yes, there is a working restaurant on stage, and yes it is pretty much a gimmick - those audience members serve no real function other than to provide free ambience for the scenes set in a bar - but the rest of the space is used so well. Even the quite heavy use of video projection and screens works terrifically, the countdown clock especially - suiting the TV setting, and giving the whole auditorium a buzz that I’ve not experienced in the Lyttelton before, even during Angels in America. So yeah, Network is genuinely very good. It might well even become great by Monday’s press night. The ingredients are all there, and certainly I think Cranston and the production design team have pretty much secured themselves awards and nominations already. Network is presently sold out for it’s entire run, but some tickets might be available via American Express invites, and there will be a regular allocation of tickets released via the National’s online Friday Rush scheme, and every morning that the show is playing via the Day Seat queue.

#network #bryan cranston #michelle dockery #National Theatre

[arisefairsun]

As someone who's heard that Romeo + Juliet (dir. Baz Luhrmann) was the "most accurate to the screenplay, technically" but also that it wasn't as accurate as it could be, plus all the other pro/con arguments abt it that float around, I was hoping you could tell me why you dislike it? Thank you!

So, I decided to watch the movie again before answering your message (that’s mainly why I took so long to reply! I’m sorry) because the last time I watched it was like five years ago, and I actually loved it this time around? I’ve been fangirling the whole night.

I agree that Luhrmann did a fantastic job in ‘translating’ the society of Shakespeare’s Verona into the contemporary world. The misogyny, the cult of violence and masculinity—all these aspects were brilliantly shown by Luhrmann. Besides, the rhythm of the movie is marvelous. All the scenes are governed by this impulsive, erratic speed. It gives you no time to think; you get carried away by its rash haste. The crazy speed of the play is one of my favorite things because it’s like, a huge emotional rollercoaster.

Still, I’m uncomfortable with the way Luhrmann filmed Romeo and Juliet’s first conversation—Juliet literally has to step back to prevent Romeo’s mouth from touching hers right when he says, “have not saints lips and holy palmers too?”. It looks so self-assertive, it makes me cringe. They’re literally creating a sonnet together, it should be beautiful and not creepy. And then there’s this new scene where we see Romeo arrive at Juliet’s bedroom on their wedding night, which I think is nonsense. I talked about it here.

Another part that I found disappointing was the portrayal of Romeo’s despair when he receives the news of his banishment in the friar’s cell. He should be “on the ground, with his own tears made drunk”, “taking the measure of an unmade grave.” He is so desperate and anxious that he even attempts to kill himself just to destroy his Montague self. However, Leo is too serene. I can’t help comparing his acting with Leonard Whiting’s portrayal, who was cut out most of the lines in this scene but who managed to accurately show Romeo’s anxiety nonetheless. Another thing I’m not sure I like entirely is the “balcony” scene. In the original play, Juliet is locked inside her window and therefore they cannot touch, let alone make out in a pool. I find it very significant that they don’t even touch in the longest, probably deepest conversation they have, but I felt like Luhrmann over-sexualized the scene unnecessarily. And then, as usual, they didn’t make Tybalt come back after Mercutio’s death. It’s quite an important little detail—both the fact that Tybalt came back to Romeo and that Romeo only suggested revenge after Tybalt’s return. (Tybalt would never run away from a fight? He is too arrogant to do so.)

The death scene is most likely what I dislike the most, though. To begin with, I think the scenery, pretty though it is, isn’t really appropriate—it should be dark, scary, the way a “nest of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep” should be, only lightened by Juliet’s beauty and not by pretty candles all around (“Her beauty makes / This vault a feasting presence full of light”). The place should correspond to Juliet’s fears:

Shall I not, then, be stifled in the vault,To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in,And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes?Or, if I live, is it not very like,The horrible conceit of death and night,Together with the terror of the place—As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,Where, for these many hundred years, the bonesOf all my buried ancestors are packed:Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say,At some hours in the night spirits resort—Alack, alack, is it not like that I,So early waking, what with loathsome smells,And shrieks like mandrakes’ torn out of the earth,That living mortals, hearing them, run mad.

It should be that terrifying. And, most importantly, it should specifically be Capulet’s crypt rather than some random church. Basically because by poisoning himself in the vault of his wife’s family, Romeo is destroying the patriarchal system (as well as reinforcing again his rejection of his own surname and the whole feud; he chooses to “set up” his “everlasting rest” in Capulet’s tomb rather than in that of Montague).

I find it very symbolic that they both die alone, surrounded by Tybalt’s and Paris’ corpses—the two men who thwarted their love the most—; I actually think it’s very significant to make them die separately. It reinforces the repressive isolation that they both experimented throughout the play. If you think about it, we not only witness the evolution of their love but also their evolution as individuals. We get to see how their relationship alters their social identities (i.e. Romeo’s willingness to love Tybalt, Juliet’s sexual liberty, etc.), and when their society rejects these new identities, they tragically decide to commit suicide. (More on this here.) I think they not only kill themselves for each other, but also for themselves, and this is something that’s highlighted by the fact that they die alone.

Besides, having Juliet wake before Romeo’s death kind of blurs the Liebestod trope—that is, death is not truly dividing them, but finally bringing them together. They kill themselves because they cannot be together in life, ergo Romeo promises he “will still stay with thee” because death will turn him into Juliet’s husband again. (There are actually lots of references to wedding rituals in this scene.) So when he says “thus with a kiss I die” (“die” meaning both to lose your life and to have an orgasm) he is not really saying farewell. He is kissing her right before dying to “seal with a righteous kiss / A dateless bargain to engrossing death”. However, in the Luhrmann version, Romeo dies thinking that death will separate him from Juliet, and so his last kiss is not a “dateless bargain” but a goodbye. (Overall his death lacks something if Juliet wakes in time. This awesome lesbian version also made Romeo die after Juliet’s awakening, but neither Luhrmann nor the lesbian production dared add new lines and he just stays speechless until he dies and I find it very weak? If Romeo saw Juliet live again, he would surely say something. If Shakespeare had wanted Juliet to wake before his death, he would have written it like that, but he didn’t. I feel like Luhrmann is changing the meaning of the scene just to increase the dramatic effects of it.)

I also think it’s highly important to make Friar Lawrence enter the scene between Romeo’s and Juliet’s deaths—he gives Juliet a very suitable option in terms of religion:

Come, I’ll dispose of theeAmong a sisterhood of holy nuns:Stay not to question, for the watch is coming.

Juliet is breaking the rules again by refusing to hide at a convent and spend the rest of her life devoting herself to God and mourning her dead husband. She prefers to commit suicide. But what’s even more irritating about Luhrmann’s version is that Juliet doesn’t say a word after Romeo’s death, which weakens the character a lot. Their conversation ends with Romeo’s “thus with a kiss I die”. It’s a pity, because her last words are really potent, especially considering that daggers were seen as a masculine form of suicide (whereas poison was often attributed to women. My kids love burning down gender roles): “O happy dagger! This is thy sheath: / There rust and let me die” (with another pun on “to have an orgasm”). By introducing Romeo’s dagger into herself she’s again claiming her right to be sexually active. This metaphor is weakened by making her use a gun instead (AND BY CUTTING OUT HER DEATH SPEECH LIKE!!! HOW DARE YOU!!!).

Another thing that I wish were included in the movie is Capulet and Montague’s reconciliation. I find it vital for the message that the play wants to transmit. After all the violence, the prejudice, the social oppression, Romeo and Juliet’s death puts an end to the war between both households (I say households and not families). The patriarchs admit the wrong they did, and it’s just so satisfying to hear them apologize. I think this is kind of the whole purpose of the play—I would dare say this last conversation is the reason the whole story was told in the first place. The prologue focuses on the households’ violence, and it actually mentions Romeo and Juliet to express that their death ceased the violence:

Two households, both alike in dignity,In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.From forth the fatal loins of these two foesA pair of star-crossed lovers take their life,Whose misadventured piteous overthrowsDoth with their death bury their parents’ strife.

However, in Luhrmann’s version, Capulet and Montague only stand side by side without saying a word while the Prince reprehends them, leaving up in the air whether or not they will take their children’s advice and replace hate with love.

But apart from that, I actually did enjoy it!

#answered #thoughts #Romeo + Juliet #Romeo and Juliet #Romeo and Juliet 1996 #Shakespeare #I'M GOING TO WATCH IT AGAIN TONIGHT #fuckingbiblicalmate

[how2to18]

The next issue of the LARB Quarterly Journal is dedicated to Genius as a theme, question, and potential problem. You can become a member and receive the print issue here.

See the table of contents at LARB Quarterly Journal: Genius, No.18

¤

  “So What” or “Kind of Blue,” […] they were done in that era, the right hour, the right day, and it happened. It’s over; it’s on the record.

— Miles Davis

I WAS IN the car when the call came: the MacArthur Foundation, requesting a confidential conversation. I was running late for a meeting and had a friend in the passenger seat, so I asked if I could call them back in one hour. I imagined the caller was requesting a recommendation or fact-check for one of their next class of Fellows — after all, they wouldn’t notify recipients of one of the most prestigious awards an artist can receive through a simple phone call … Would they?

An hour later, they proved me wrong. Sitting alone in my car, the group on the other end of the line congratulated me on being named a Fellow. The rest of the conversation was something of a blur, as if I were recovering from a lightning bolt strike. But one thing came through clearly: I had to keep the news top secret until the public announcement, some four weeks later. I could tell only one person of my choosing (my mom, naturally).

Those four weeks of secrecy were surreal. After the initial euphoria of the phone call wore off, I found myself facing an anxiety that friends who are MacArthur Fellows later confessed to sharing: Why does my work in such a niche genre — experimental opera! — merit this generosity? What makes me worthy of such an honor? And most anxiety inducing of all: how do you deal with the “g-word”? In the literature that accompanied all my post-phone call paperwork, I was happy to see the Foundation decline to use the name most journalists ascribe to the fellowship: “the genius grant.” “We avoid using the term ‘genius’ to describe MacArthur Fellows,” according to the Foundation’s FAQs, “because it connotes a singular characteristic of intellectual prowess.”

The Foundation probably takes pains to say this because so many people find something deeply uncomfortable about the concept of “genius” — its exclusionary implications and air of elitism; a Romanticism that seems out of step with contemporary (let alone everyday) life; the affirmation of canonical standards set by … who exactly? Any person mature enough to strive for self-awareness finds the moniker embarrassing, and only an unstable narcissist could ever self-apply the title without shame.

When classical music is your field, the term “genius” carries another layer of historical baggage. All of us who have dedicated our lives to an art form we see as a vital and fundamental expression of the human soul struggle against the forbidding images of the people who came before us. In classical music, those people were often tortured white men, largely misunderstood and unrecognized until their deaths. This is a mausoleum approach to music that promotes an involuntary social turn toward the reactionary, as every performance of a classic work is accompanied by a lament: “Alas, this masterpiece of a bygone era, when men were great and created like gods, only makes our own time seem all the more fallow.” It’s an attitude we wish were more of a cliché, less of a majority opinion, because the centrality of a concept like “individual genius” makes it all the harder for new voices to take risks, to experiment, and attempt to expand the definition of some of the most hidebound words in the art lexicon: “opera,” “oratorio,” “symphony.”

But I believe there is a way of thinking about genius that could powerfully encapsulate the creative process. It begins by no longer applying the term to individuals. If calling an individual “a genius” sounds pompous and grandiose, describing some thing as “genius” is commonplace. “That was a genius move,” I find myself saying too often for it to actually mean very much. Or, “I wasn’t crazy about the last season of Mad Men, but the final scene was genius.”

Moments, ideas, a single poem in a collection — a work of genius, no matter how individually wrought — is never the product of a single individual. We should stop thinking of genius as an attribute and instead start to think of it as a condition, a circumstance.

This may come across as false humility, but in fact it’s a fundamental aspect of my own creative process. As an opera director, my work is never a solitary act; it is inherently social and dialogic. One aspect of my work is conceptual — imagining the visual and philosophical implications of production choices — but even the best idea would be useless if it were not brilliantly realized by a team of specialists. Another aspect is practical — making and communicating plans down to the minutest level — but the execution of those logistics relies on a faultless chain of doers. Yet another aspect is inspirational — motivating the best possible performance, which is an inherently transitive quality. I could cheerlead until I’m blue in the face, but it won’t do me any good if the performer does not answer the call and rouse their own virtuosity.

In short, my work consists entirely of creating the conditions for genius to flow. I am not in possession of it — it resides in that flow of output, which everyone participates in. “Genius” is the oxygen that those in a shared space breathe in and are transformed by; it allows them to reach their full potential. In this way, “genius” returns to its original Latin meaning of an “attendant spirit.”

I’m currently preparing a production of Richard Wagner’s opera Lohengrin in the theater he built in Bayreuth, Germany, with a working methodology that might be considered highly anti-Wagnerian. Wagner, after all, was the ultimate Capital-G Genius, an autodidact who “did it all himself”: compose the music, write the text, direct the production, and on and on. His concept of Gesamtkunstwerk, the “total work of art,” implies a lone artist as the unifying spirit who builds worlds like a divine being. He created the template for Genius, which has since been used as a model for conductors, composers, directors, and dictators to follow — the vision (illusion?) of a solitary auteur. My team’s working process has been more multi-headed: the sets, costumes, and visual art for the production were actually developed autonomously, before I was even brought on to the project. For some directors, this is an affront to their sovereignty. I say: Why bring on board such brilliant artists only to consider them hired help? My preparations involve responding as much as creating. This is what I mean about genius as a circumstance or a set of conditions. We are not replicating Wagner’s way of working but setting up the conditions for its original genius, its truth and abundance, to flow.

When genius is considered circumstantial, it becomes contingent — precarious, rare, and magical. Nothing becomes predictable: genius is a river, and to ride it, we must build a vessel specific to the circumstances we find it in. For me, this means I will not know if the conditions for Lohengrin truly came together until the production opens this coming summer. All I can do is endeavor to use everything I’ve learned and experienced to perceive how the circumstances are speaking, and to make the passage as favorable as possible. It’s why I call directing my practice, rather than my craft.

But even for artists whose work is not as inherently collaborative as mine, the circumstances around a new creation are always their co-author. What would Hamlet be without the author’s fear of rejection by the unruly, uneducated audience that occupied the stalls? Could Ulysses have come into the world if Dublin never existed? Could The Making of Americans have been written anywhere but in Paris? And how many ingenious works were born not in the spirit of harmony with their surroundings but as a show of defiance against them — acts of protest that revealed new potentiality in a seemingly hopeless situation? Shouldn’t those original circumstances, dire as they may have been, be given some credit for their offspring?

This is genius as the spirit of circumstance — an environment, socially created, not an attribute of an isolated individual. I believe most artists who truly contemplate how and why they create ask themselves the question: “Does the work I do even belong to me?” Here I must think about Ortega y Gasset’s great study, Meditations on Quixote: “The reabsorption of circumstance is the concrete destiny of humanity […] I am myself plus my circumstance, and if I do not save it, I cannot save myself.”

When the four weeks of secrecy about the MacArthur were over, my anxiety gave way under the avalanche of joyous well wishes. Several friends and collaborators, either directly or indirectly connected to the circumstances of the works cited by the selection committee, wrote me to share their baffled reaction of self-pride: “I somehow feel as if I had won it!” Nothing made me happier than hearing this.

I spent part of the day reading about the other Fellows in my class and found myself feeling so inspired by their dedication and accomplishments in fields far removed from my own. The world seemed bigger. This may be where the “genius” moniker is still useful: by calling out examples of how and where the endlessly searching attendant spirit still visits the world. Because anyone, anywhere, can participate in it.

¤

Yuval Sharon founded and serves as artistic director of The Industry in Los Angeles. Sharon conceived, directed, and produced the company’s acclaimed world premieres of Hopscotch, Invisible Cities, and Crescent City. He also devised and directed the company’s two “performance installations”: In C at the Hammer Museum and Nimbus at Walt Disney Concert Hall. He has directed productions of John Cage’s Song Books, Peter Eötvös’s Three Sisters Cunning Little Vixen, originally produced at the Cleveland Orchestra, and original setting of War of the Worlds.

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[dweemeister]

The Nutty Professor (1963)

During my childhood, my only knowledge about Jerry Lewis was rooted in his annual Labor Day telethon for those struggling with muscular dystrophy. His comedic career was secondary to me, having never seen his movie or television work. Going into The Nutty Professor – directed, co-produced, and co-written by Lewis, who died on August 20 – I realize that my contemporary knowledge was informed by a young teenager’s opinion that slapstick humor after the silent era just isn’t funny. The Nutty Professor (parodying Robert Louis Stevenson’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde) did not transform my opinion of post-silent slapstick movies, but I saw how – to numerous generations – Lewis provided not only laughter, but comfort to those seeing themselves as outsiders, those who may never see themselves as anything but an outsider.

Lewis’ outsider character here is chemistry Professor Julius Kelp, quietly mocked and derided by his own students outside of the classroom, and whose pocket protector, lab coats, buck teeth, and nasally voice embody all stereotypes of scientific nerdery. Kelp, loquacious to a fault and never failing to shudder when threatened by a more physically imposing individual, wants to change. Not only does he go to the gym – imagine if this movie was instead set around the time Zack Snyder’s 300 (2006) premiered – and find himself flustered with the equipment, Kelp also creates a concoction that turns him into Buddy Love. Love is a sexy, sexually-driven, self-centered skirt-chaser that has his eyes on Stella Purdy (Stella Stevens), who just also happens to be Julius Kelp’s crush. When Buddy Love reverts back to Professor Kelp (being in the Jekyll and Hyde tradition, only he knows of the transformation), Kelp retains all the memories of his alter ego and understands how destructive that character is. Nevertheless, Kelp – excited by the thrill of being Buddy Love – continues to take the serum.

Also appearing in The Nutty Professor is Del Moore as Kelp’s boss/department chair Dr. Warfield and Kathleen Freeman as Millie Lemmon.

Whatever The Nutty Professor’s messages are (and I will address those in a later paragraph), they are buried underneath the romantic attraction that will develop between Professor Kelp and Stella. I profess ignorance to societal norms in the early 1960s regarding non-platonic professor-student relationships, but I found myself quite uncomfortable regarding how The Nutty Professor objectifies Stella as the blonde bombshell of the classroom – sitting at her desk, speaking in near-seductive tones, framed by soft lighting effects. This is not an age difference issue, as Lewis and Stevens’ ages are separated by eight years. Instead, my ideas of professor-student relationships are strictly academic, professional. The approach taken by Lewis and co-screenwriter Bill Richmond to have such a relationship weakens The Nutty Professor by denying the character of Stella of having much agency or interest outside of her pursuing a romance with Buddy Love or Professor Kelp. Stella Stevens’ performance is sufficient, but it matters not when her character is a bore to watch. Yes, this might be a Jerry Lewis vehicle, but the best comedies evolve beyond a single punchline, idea, or concentration on a specific character.

This is Lewis’ best-known performance, and is often considered his finest film work. Beneath the bowl cut and despite the hunchbacked posture and ill-fitting clothes, slight twists in the face and the loneliness expressed just through body language and the eyes, there are some parts to the portrayal of Professor Kelp that make it impossible for the audience to laugh all of his anxieties and pains away. He is a breathing cartoon character in the best possible sense, and oftentimes it is easy to dismiss such figures as fiction, warped in their wacky world of illogic and comical misunderstandings. But for the introverts among us, we recognize our societal inhibitions immediately, what we believe to be our personal weaknesses and failures immediately. That even includes the scene – relating to the previous paragraph – where Kelp is practically drooling over Stella, picturing her in a swimsuit, as well as a prostitute’s clothing. His desperation for what he believes is love is evident; not even Lewis’ best performance can make this comedy any more consistent.

As Buddy Love (historically rumored to be a hyperbolic representation of Lewis’ comedic partner, Dean Martin), Lewis accepts – perhaps only for the purposes of this movie – the idea of a man-eat-man world. After Love’s hilarious introduction, brilliantly captured with point-of-view camerawork and gaping mouths across the nightclub, the complete passiveness of Professor Kelp dissolves and is replaced by the hypermasculine jazz singer:

STELLA PURDY: And I always say that to love yourself is the beginning of a lifelong romance, and after watching you, I know you and you will be very happy together. BUDDY LOVE: Just a minute, sweetheart, I don’t recall dismissing you. STELLA PURDY: You rude, discourteous egomaniac! BUDDY LOVE: You’re crazy about me, right? This morning, looking in the mirror, I enjoyed what I saw so much, I couldn’t tear myself away.

Stella’s inability to tear herself completely away from Buddy Love is toxic, subjecting her to his insulting behavior. She cannot look away. Nor can we. This difficulty in understanding, recognizing, and disowning this unhealthy sexuality (that last phrase may cause a ruckus from those advocating completely liberated expressions of sexuality of all types, but I stand by this description) towards a fantasy – from within and from others – is realistic, but when the character of Stella is as undeveloped as she is, it becomes sickening.

Aside from the troublesome sexual politics, The Nutty Professor understands and sympathizes with those lacking in self-confidence, devoid of self-acceptance. In the process of personal reinvention, the opposite of what an individual (lacking in the aforementioned qualities) is might not be as meaningful or worthwhile once that opposite is achieved. The film’s climax, featuring both Professor Kelp and Buddy Love, is an effective conclusion – honest, though banal and as garrulous as the former character can be. Maybe Jerry Lewis, given his personal life, is and was an imperfect messenger for The Nutty Professor’s overarching moral, but his attempts are genuine and this film is certainly his most personal work; viewers and fans should note that Lewis’ less noble half is closer to Buddy Love than his virtuous half is to Professor Kelp.

Single moments of hilarity and interest are also present throughout in Lewis’ best movie, earning a spot in the Library of Congress’ National Film Registry –  marking it for preservation – as part of the class of 2004. The Nutty Professor is rife with thematic contradictions, like all lives worth living, and harmed by various elements now dated. Other gags are extended beyond their expiration date. Nevertheless, The Nutty Professor is as close to being a cartoon as any Hollywood live-action comedy ever released.

My rating: 7/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found here.

#The Nutty Professor #Jerry Lewis #Stella Stevens #Del Moore #Kathleen Freeman #Med Flory #Bill Richmond #TCM #My Movie Odyssey