Tuesday, January 2, 2018

Derp Blog Into Darkness #33: Legends of the Fall

In Derp Blog Into Darkness, I take a plunge into the deep with movies I’ve never seen or (in some cases) never even heard of, with the only common thread throughout being that they were purchased by my partner in the years after the break with her religious upbringing. This gives me a wide variation in movies to explore, ranging from mainstream comfort food to more daring, “rebellious” stuff.

Now here's that rare type of movie that I had definitely heard of, knew many of the main players involved, knew what kind of movie it was... but had absolutely no idea what it was actually about.

Being an Edward Zwick movie, I was expecting LEGENDS OF THE FALL to have some kind of liberal moral to the story, most likely with a comforting-to-90s-audiences White Savior theme.

But... what would the actual plot be about?

The title wasn't any help. What legends about the fall was the movie going to address? Were the characters themselves the legends, and would their legendary actions mostly be autumnal?

Who knows, and how lovely a feeling indeed!

The movie starts out with an old Cree named One-Stab (Gordon Tootoosis) reminiscing on the travails and woes of the Ludlow family as they settled on the Montana plains long decades before, together with hired hand Decker (Paul Desmond) and his Cree wife Pet (Tantoo Cardinal).

All this table setting is relayed in a montage narrated by old man One-Stab, giving some of the more dramatic events a dryly funny "oh and btw this happened" feel. Mama Isabel (Christina Pickles) leaves them because the outdoors life fuckin' sucks! Goodbye! She just totters off in a car as the dad (Anthony Hopkins) and his three sons look on. Welp... guess we're gonna have to cook our own meals now, lads...

This gives middle boy Tristan (Keegan MacIntosh, later Brad Pitt) a serious chip on his shoulder, to the point where he literally goes to POKE A SLEEPING BEAR

He manages to escape to the great misfortune of pretty much every other character in the film, and even succeeds in taking a bear claw trophy, possibly blessing him with delicious lunches for the rest of his life.

As the boys grow up, young femme Samuel (actual ET boy Henry Thomas) meets Susannah Fincannon (Julia Ormond) on a visit to his mom in the city. This immediately turns Tristan and Alfred (90s man Aidan Quinn) into cyclopses, as their boners at seeing a white woman not their mom poke their eyes out right away. But even in their one-eyed state they have fun times, playing cricket and teaching Decker and Pet's little girl Isabel Two (Sekwan Auger) about France-land classics.

It was at this point I thought I was getting a handle on the movie, as Susannah certainly wouldn't be able to keep it dry around wild woodsman adonis Tristan whose adult form is literally introduced driving horses, blonde hair borne aloft on the winds of the plains. Oh no, romantic drama!

Not entirely! Turns out poetry bumbler Samuel is also a true idealist, and wishes to go fight in World War One, and he and Alfred give Daddy Colonel William a good chewing out for not wishing to be involved in this conflict. Even Tristan ends up enlisting to fight the Kaiser, but mostly to protect his brothers who didn't get the bear-wrestling XP earlier, but mostly mostly to not be alone with horny Susannah whom he totally had some steamy hand-touching with.

Samuel does not have a good WWI, unfortunately! He gets stuck in some barbed wire and two Germans calmly deploy a gatling gun and get on their bellies so they could really take their time with this one, extremely trapped American six feet away from them on an even plain that they could have just shot with a sidearm and moved on.

Samuel's carefully executed death extremely upsets Tristan, and Brad briefly turns into an Aldo Raines avant-la-lettre who goes on a natsee-scalp-huntin' spree that mostly happens off-screen. This would have been disappointing but for the fact that we are one World War too early and they're not actually natsees so the visceral thrill of seeing them scalped just wouldn't have been there.

Alfred returns home and attempts to propose to Susannah in one of those "well I'm yer husband's single brother so why not" dealie-o's, but she declines him, which he just knows is all about that dreamy damned Tristan. He vows to make his name as a City Boy(tm) and leaves the movie.

When Tristan returns, it's fuccin time, and they fucc in different locations. But Tristan has dark thoughts that even buxom Susannah and a bear paw talisman cannot drive away. His brother so carefully shot... he wasn't there... TIME TOO RUNNOFT

Tristan engages in a montage of globetrotting adventures, while Susannah gets better and better at ranch life with Daddy Hopkins to the point I was almost expecting THEY were gonna get married. She waits for years, until she gets the very specific letter that she should marry someone else from Tristan at his lowest, unironically smoking opium.

Susannah who does need dick at some point (and Hopkins has a stroke) decided to marry respectableman Alfred after all.

But oh no! Tristan returns!

Don't worry, Tristan - we got some totally non-awkward consolation waifu for ya! That's right, Isabel Two is now a lusty young lady ("The L Word"'s Karina Lombard, very much taking me by surprise here) who is totes down to make good on her little girl promises of marrying Tristan. They don't just FUCC they also WEDD and PROCREATT, resulting in two little kids, the elder named Samuel after our favorite well-executed WWI casualty.

Tristan needs monies though, and since it is Prohibition now, he starts to do some bootlegging, to the annoyance of upright politicsman Alfred. But oh ho ho! Some of Alfred's moneymen are boozechaps themselves! The O'Bannion brothers (Robert Wisden and John Novak, playing basically Daredevil villains in the third act of this here romantic epic) aren't happy with Tristan musclin' in on their territory and start intimidating him... resulting in a roadside ambush that ends with Isabel Two dying of the world's first insta-kill shoulder shot.

Tristan and Decker organize some good vengeance for their shared womanproperty, and Politicswife Susannah decides to eat a gun because her Cucksband Alfred would never do such good vengeance for her.

As Tristan and Alfred mourn their wives, Alfred expresses his secret admiration for wildman sex god Tristan. "All my life I followed these rules... and yet I have nothing to show for it..."

Oh okay, was this the central relationship of the movie? The framing and dialogue sure would seem to suggest it here! But Alfred has basically been mostly absent for a good hour of the running time, and Tristan was really not thinking about him? Before this scene -- hell, before Susannah's out-of-nowhere suicide -- I would have surmised that Tristan/Susannah was the dramatic focus of the movie, with maybe Tristan/Poppa as the secondary one. Yer really catching me off-guard here, Zwicky!

When I voiced this disbelief to my partner, she rather hilariously went "Oh no, this is a MAN's movie!!!" which I found extremely hilarious. These deep dives are always at their most amusing when Ella revisits a thing from The Old Days and deems it Fucking Shit without expecting it to be. This was one of the best examples I'd come across so far!

As for me, I didn't hate watching it -- it hit a perfect balance of being a movie I had no knowledge of and also being extremely episodic so I was constantly on my toes as to what was going to happen next -- but I also wouldn't actually recommend it. They make opulent epics all the time, and this one isn't a particularly innovative or supremely competent one. I don't know if I'd ever seen Julia Ormond in anything before, but she was perfectly charming and engaging here.

Post-stroke gimmick acting Hopkins was Topkins -- really not that far from TRANSFORMERS: THE LAST KNIGHT type of shit once he got to that part of the movie.

Brad Pitt was the weirdest thing: I'd seen quite a few Brad Pitt movies before, but SE7EN the only one where he played a (relatively) normal guy. Ironically, I never saw any of his star making sex symbol performances, which made Tristan a weird character I was constantly expecting to bonk himself on the head by walking into a beam or launch into idiotic diatribes... but no, we had to take this tormented beautiful man 100% seriously at all times!

I dunno mang... can you?

Friday, September 22, 2017

Trans Merlin: Legend of the Headcanon

The character referred to only as "the Mage" in Guy Ritchie's 2016 film KING ARTHUR: LEGEND OF THE SWORD, portrayed by Astrid Bergès-Frisbey, is in all likelihood neither trans nor Merlin. I know this full well.

The text of the film is ambiguous about her backstory: she claims to have been sent by Merlin to help the exiled Arthur (Charlie Hunnam, of course) to reclaim his throne from his uncle Vortigern (Jude Law). Said uncle had, at the start of the film, entered a secret alliance with evil mage Mordred (Rob Knighton) to overthrow Arthur's daddy Uther Pendragon (Eric lollin' Bana).

This is told to the audience in a montage (Ritchie gonna Ritchie) with a VO split between the Mage and Sir Bedivere (Djimon Hounsou), one of the late Uther's knights turned resistance leader. The montage details the origins of Excalibur, Arthur's magic sword forged by Merlin from the KING OF THE MAGES' staff after Mordred's hostile take-over.

This is an ADR'd-up montage that FOLLOWS another montage of Arthur proving himself in THU DARKLANDS, after Arthur had an exceedingly long section of "I ain't no King, mate..." call-refusing. In short, it absolutely reeks of re-shoots.

In this montage wherein Merlin forges Excalibur (which in no way resembles the creation of the One Ring), his face is obscured. The only visible feature we see is long, brown hair.

Considering the movie hadn't been terribly concerned with the tenets of fluid-at-best Arthurian myth (Vortigern as the big bad, Mordred relegated to a prologue, cutesy 'ard lad names for everyone), I was starting to get my hopes up for a proper mix-up in the reveal that one of the most famous greybeard wizards of all time was a girl in this one, kind of like the Liam-Neesons-isn't-just-working-for-Ra's-Al-Ghul twist in BATMAN BEGINS.

No such reveal came. We never learn her identity, even after a scene where the cutesy nickname 'ard lads are revealed to be such-and-such recognizable Knights of the Round Table. The movie follows this with a swooshin' helicopter shot to a mounted Mage mysteriously looking down upon Camelot from a nearby hilltop.



No "And I am MERLIN!" reveal here? After like five "btw this guy is this guy" reveals? Nope! Just a mysterious/ominous gaze upon newly liberated Camelot and credits.

No doubt this would-be franchise launcher would have delved deeper into the Mage's identity* and perhaps gotten a Big Name for Merlin (Size of Name dependent on box office performance of the first one). But yeah, that didn't happen and this is the only one of Guy Ritchie's King Arthur movies we're likely to be getting.

Given all the above information, the Mage being Merlin herself is not a reading that contradicts anything the movie presents. Why trans? Well shit, Merlin is a long-lived magic-usin' motherfucker, and since the movie posits that times are dangerous for mages in general and Merlin in particular, so in a pre-HRT world a cool person like Merlin would be like "time to present femme for a few centuries!"

I don't even particularly think that the Mage is a super cool character -- she's a pretty standard mysterious powerful mage. She does some cool shit, but she's "stoic and silent" mostly.

Why do I choose to read the movie like this then?

Think of all the trans characters you've seen in recent popular media. Chances are:

  1. You haven't.
  2. Their story** was about
    1. discrimination
    2. dreamin' of THE SURGERY

You will probably not see them as powerful wizards like my personal reading of this movie.

Nor as special forces operatives, brilliant scientists, scumbag CEO villains, ... any old stereotype that our genre movies are full of.

Remember when the lead characters in Star Wars for decades were:

  1. white
  2. cis
  3. straight
  4. male
  5. traditionally attractive
  6. able-bodied
  7. neurotypical
And then they COMPLETELY flipped the script on THE FORCE AWAKENS by having a lead that was:

  1. white
  2. cis
  3. straight
  4. female
  5. traditionally attractive
  6. able-bodied
  7. neurotypical

Holy shit, what a complete inversion of expectations of what a Star Wars lead looks like! I sympathize with all who felt discombobulated about everything they thought they knew about this saga... and I applaud the incredible risk Disney took when they relaunched one of the most succesful (critic-proof) sagas of all time with a lead that was SO DIFFERENT from the standard. 

All jokes aside, I thought Daisy Ridley did a great job as Rey and I cried a little the first time I saw a girl fire up the lightsaber in the climactic duel of a Star Wars.  

But consider the reactions to her: I'm not talking about "SJW bullshit not my old Star Wars", nor am I talking about the backpatting about representation. I'm talking about the nominally progressive reactions that say "Oh well, representation is good and all, but this is just a rehash of Old Star Wars... soulless..."

I didn't particularly care for the 2016 GHOSTBUSTERS, but I acknowledge that it is rare to see movies that feature four women in action/adventure situations, two of which are fat, one of which is fat AND black. As sure as I cried when that girl fired up that lightsaber and started flailing against that gut-shot goth, I'm pretty sure many big gals (of color) had that same feeling of empowerment when they saw the new Ghostbusters cleanin' up the town.

I don't believe in my lifetime I will see a canonically identified trans wizard summon and telepathically control a giant snake*** to attack an evil king's castle. So I read that into it, and it made an alright movie a little more special to me. 

Music was real cool, btw!  

*early reports on the movie listed Bergès-Frisbey being cast as Guinevere, but nothing in the film states that, and she isn't credited as such

**if they have a story and aren't just present to make the cis characters look good 'n liberal

***that's what happens in the movie, forgive the subtext

Thursday, September 14, 2017

9 Worlds Con Report V: Inferno

It is a complete coincidence that "Inferno" should be the subtitle for this long-delayed con report from Nine Worlds 2017, and has no bearing on it also being the subtitle of the fifth entry in the Hellraiser series - the point in which they all seemed to be films made from unrelated scripts, retrofitted into a Hellraiser setting to get them made and/or distributed.

When it comes to Nine Worlds con reports, I have talked in the past about learning to realize what privilege is, and how best to check yours; how social justice is more than just pointing at The Bad Thing and going "I Have Spotted A Racism!"; how narrative tropes shape a common consciousness and can reinforce outdated modes of thinking; the necessity of feminism despite it having been the 21st century for quite a while now. 

On a more personal level, it has been where I met (and was introduced to) quite a few dear friends, and slowly but surely started questioning my own gender identity. Nine Worlds has been, no kidding, quite a formative experience in my life. 

This year, however, the very concept of "privilege" was addressed in a far more meta sort of way than I could have guessed. Ever since the first con in 2013, my partner and I had been flying in to help a friend out who was part of the organization. For the first few years, content was organized along "tracks", themed rooms that had a person/persons at the helm. Our friend Andrew (of The Lost Cat fame) had a screening room and was in charge of the "Cinema" track. Though the categorization of content into tracks was already a thing of the past by that year, 2016's edition still saw our friend in charge of a screening room and generally being left alone.

2017, however? A full reorganization of all content into purely crowdsourced material. More democratic and in the spirit of the con, absolutely. But on the other hand, also a far bigger risk for my (romantic) partner Ella, (writing) partner Travis and I, who put some effort -- financial and otherwise -- into getting to London from THE CONTINENT and THE COLONIES respectively. As a result, we wouldn't have a screening room to fall back on in case nothing in a particular timeslot appealed to us, showing stuff organized by a close friend and therefore somewhat catering to our tastes.

In other words, the system was no longer rigged in our favor. In other, other words, our privileges were REVOKED! I cannot deny that we actually left with some trepidation this year because of this, which just goes to show how quickly one gets used to being a privileged party in even the slightest of ways.

Strange as the experience was, we did get some proper good stuff in front of our eyeballs. Howard Hardiman's BSL interpretation of ancient Greek myth was a surreal and eye-opening (no pun intended) simulation of media experience by deaf people. A reading of a text fragment was followed by a clip with deaf actors portraying the snippet we'd just heard, so the (mostly hearing) audience would know what was going on. Besides the empathy for deaf people, another goal of this project was to recontextualize the level of distance we usually take for granted when ancient Greek texts are translated into English.

Privilege lulz: one of the first audience questions was a chap who wanted to ask if they would be putting these out with subtitles. Cuz frankly hearing people want to enjoy this too!

I would be remiss not to use that to segue into Travis' solo-outing at Nine Worlds, namely "Ghostbusters Forever"; a celebration of all things Ghostbusters from the earliest show to carry the name to whatever crossover fanfic IDW Comics is currently paying licensing fees to publish. A fine, light-hearted sort of history of Ghostbusters with one awkward moment*: one male audience member asking if anyone didn't like the new movie? I actually didn't particularly like it myself, but I like to think of myself as someone with enough presence of mind and lack of ego to not start that discussion in a room where a good 30% probably has a crush on Holtzmann. Let people have their safe-space fun. Luckily Travis nipped this in the bud by heartily saying they weren't going to go there and to keep the atmosphere fun and light-hearted. The chap defended himself by saying "Well, I liked it!" which admittedly changed the tenor of the question. Hilariously, another guy piped up with "What if you thought it was good but not as good as the old one?" because it's important to get your not-sexist cred reinforced. Some more watermelon-watermelon grumbling and shit was moved past. Kudos to mah boiii Travis for navigating the dangerous waters that Ghostbusters has become in 2017!

A talk about Jordan Peele's debut "Get Out" and the horror of race was among my favorite items of the whole con this year, with the lady holding it reducing many in the room to tears with her righteous screed on the tragedy of Grenfell Towers, wherein she had lost people.

For sheer laughs, the absence of the Duke Mitchell Film Club was somewhat softened by a nice little grab bag of VHS oddities, hosted by Bunny Galore (last of the UK horror hosts!) and Ash Fairbrother, whose name I remember cuz he was also relatively involved with previous years' cinema offerings. If nothing else, it introduced me to RESSHA SENTAI TOQGER -- a Super Sentai show focused on trains, and one of only two Super Sentai shows that were not imported to the West to form the basis of a Power Rangers show.


Conservationist Avery Delaney talked about the Jurassic Park series (and World in particular) from the perspective of nature preservation and drew many a parallel to the heart-wrenching doc Blackfish about abused killer whales at Sea World. I enjoyed helping maintain a lively discussion, as the young lad was on the spectrum, and requested any questions to be submitted via #consroarvation. It was also one of those quietly giggle-inducing moments where a lot of time was spent talking about the emotional torment of the Indominus Rex, whereas my opinion of it was always "Cool! They made a proper HEEL dinosaur! Let's shoot it with bazookas!"

Strangely enough, I was also rather fond of the talk on MST3K, a show I've never seen an episode of, nor am I super inclined to. As a bit of sociology, it was pretty interesting, however! Seeing intelligent, well-spoken fans articulate what brought them to the fandom, and what they enjoyed (or didn't) as it evolved and changed was absolutely endearing to me. I suppose that 2017 is the year I understood one can enjoy a fandom without really caring too much about the thing they are fans of!

2017 was also the year where I felt that, besides on political matters, my friends and I are fairly divorced from nerd culture in general. Being pushed out into the wild more, we were all rather taken aback at the uproarious laughter greeting what we often felt were no more than mildly amusing statements. Hit upon a reference or apply a meme template in conversation and you'll get the laughs. I guess it's the age-old adage of looking for security in nerddom translated into humor. "I recognize this thing, I can control it, I feel safe, therefore my emotions are positive! Ha ha!" 

Maybe 2007 me would have been condescending about it, but 2017 me is all "The world is a fuck, enjoy your things, friends!"

This did, however, result in a couple of moments where my friends and I would look at each other and shrug. We discussed our alienation from the non-political side of nerddom over drinks in the evenings, and felt that we were all in the same boat. Were we just... getting old...?

I mean, undoubtedly we are! But here Travis and I are doing a sequel to last year's pretty darn successful Kaiju Kavalcade which... drew less than stellar numbers (probably also due to the fact that we were scheduled late Sunday afternoon and most people were probably packing already). Little did that matter, however, since we had return customers -- the two little kids and their family that won our contest last year had specifically come back. How lovely to know that two people's giant monster related idiocy touched the hearts of some! 

By attending Nine Worlds truly as guests, we had a different -- and not always more pleasant -- experience.** But it did, as usual, bring us all to some realizations. In this case: getting knocked off a pedestal to have the everyperson experience can be valuable and eye-opening. 

And yes, we are working on content submitted via channels like everyone else for next year (ex. "Whedon Was Always An Asshole" and "Captain America & Hydra: Everything You Like Is Fascist Anyway"). See you in 2018!

*Two, but I didn't see this: during his explanation of what Hi-C Ecto Cooler was (European audiences!), Travis joked that it may have single-handedly caused the American epidemic of diabetes and obesity. This caused one person to walk out and quietly flip him off! If that person is reading this, he felt quite bad about it for quite a while but didn't run into you again. Sorry!

**One good tip if you find yourself somewhat recognizant of my feelings above: talks are better than panel discussions. 

Monday, April 17, 2017

Kaiju Kavalcade Special: KONG - SKULL ISLAND


It was a blessing and a curse to have recently seen KING KONG, that ole big daddy of all kaiju flicks, before heading out to see Hollywood’s latest try at the Eighth Wonder of the World, KONG: SKULL ISLAND. A blessing, because while we still have a ways to go, it’s nice to see in these often depressing times how far popular sentiment has gotten towards pretty much anything that’s not white America. A curse because, well, how are you gonna measure up to one of the greatest movies of all time? An unfair comparison that – do not worry, dear reader – I will not be trotting out throughout our whole damned piece. 

I liked KONG: SKULL ISLAND quite a bit! In what appears to be the Kultural Kong narrative’s cyclical nature, it’s back to the 70s for our big ape after our last venture (heh) to the island went all the way back to the thirties in Peter Jackson’s 2005 homage to Merian Cooper and Ernest Schoedsack’s original. I’m sure director Jordan Voght-Roberts didn’t intentionally mean to evoke the oft-ridiculed Dino de Laurentiis produced 1976 version, but it is striking that (non-sequel, American) Kong always seems to go 30s, 70s, 30s, 70s. I suppose that in our ultra-connected world it seems a stretch to ask of audiences that a place like Skull Island and its giant denizens could exist without it being public knowledge, and the most recent version was already set in the 30s so… For my money, the period setting was a winning gamble. After a rousing WWII Pacific Theatre pre-title sequence, we move to 1973 and the “strategic retreat” of the Vietnam war. What’s that, you say? That’s a whole lotta war for a big monster movie? Why, yes it is, and the movie’s all the better for it.

Rather than immerse us into a strange world of government cover-ups, monster sightings and cryptozoological ephemera like Gareth Edwards’ GODZILLA, KONG: SKULL ISLAND uses its credits to give a little history lesson, to remind numbskull (island) 2017 viewers what was happening in the world in 1973. To be fair, I am exactly such a numbskull, because I don’t know if I’d ever heard of the LANDSAT program, where satellites started mapping the entirety of our globe for the first time. It’s a nice twist on the classic “Hey some drunk put a map in my hands let’s mount an expedition” reason for the journey to the island. There’s an inevitability to this particular discovery of Skull Island that I appreciated; the stormcloud-encircled legend is not discovered here by the entrepreneurial spirit/hubris of one man (the original’s Carl Denham), it is mankind itself that is simply growing too big for its breeches. And speaking of growing too big for one's breeches, we haven’t even talked about thu main man himself yet… Travis?


Ah yes, the King himself. If there's one thing people seem to agree on concerning SKULL ISLAND, it's that this version of Kong is a lean, mean fighting machine that's a joy to watch. His personality is basically the same from previous versions: a tender soul that can be provoked to great violence. The main difference is that SKULL ISLAND gives him a background, and it's a TRAGIC HERO ORIGIN! And you can't have a tragic hero origin without the TRAGIC DEATH OF PARENTS! As Hank Marlow (a WWI pilot who crash landed on the island years ago played by John C. Reilly) explains, Kong is an adolescent belonging to a family of gigantic apes who maintained the peaceful balance of Skull Island by keeping the nasty creatures known as Skullcrawlers at bay. Unfortunately, Kong's parents were TRAGICALLY KILLED by the giant Skullcrawlers, and he remains as the sole guardian. Because of this loneliness, we're treated to a few interesting scenes of him going about his day when not he's not punching something. He eats a big ol' octopus for lunch; he helps lift a log off a trapped buffalo; he even ends his night by staring at the colorful display of the northern lights. Of course, you didn't come to see this flick for ape introspection. You want to see him smash shit up! And boy howdy, he does! Helicopters! Smashed! Humans! Smashed! Skullcrawlers! Smashed! Monster movie fans will definitely not be disappointed by the rowdiness of Kong's fists vs. everything on Skull Island. Plus, if you didn't like 2014's GODZILLA holding back its title monster until the hour mark, don't worry! Within the first thirty minutes of KONG: SKULL ISLAND, we've reached Skull Island, and Kong is already on the scene in full glory.

Now that we've mentioned it, since GODZILLA and SKULL ISLAND now exist in the same MonsterVerse (Legendary Pictures' cinematic universe franchise featuring all kinds of kaiju), we must compare the two of them. The biggest difference is certainly the monster factor, and it feels like the filmmakers must have taken some of the criticisms of GODZILLA to heart when making this movie. Like I mentioned, our hero is introduced in the first half hour, and it's an exciting sequence of Kong knocking down helicopters. Compared to GODZILLA where G first meets the male MUTO in Hawaii, only for the fight to be glimpsed as news footage on TV, you can see where SKULL ISLAND barrels through the action while GODZILLA holds back until the climatic third act. In fact, after the helicopter attack, the movie really doesn't let up its pace and breathlessly throws monster set piece after monster set piece at the audience. Didn't like that GODZILLA only had G and the two MUTOs? Well, this island's full of spiders and stick bugs and vulture/lizard thingies and buffalo and octipi and Skullcrawlers and Kong and what a monster island this is! No wonder the story features an army squadron, because otherwise they'd run out of victims to get picked off! Perhaps though, the movie moves a little too fast. The second and third acts get especially montage heavy, and the human characters (with the exception of the eccentric Marlow) don't really have breathing room to develop. The movie's priorities are to thrust you into the action as soon as possible, and it's definitely a roller coaster trip. The numerous monster scenes are incredibly fun, but it might've been at the expense of everything else. Is that approach better or worse than the restrained nature of GODZILLA? Your mileage and kaiju tastes may vary.

But my kaiju tastes were salivating at the very end though! Like most audiences knowledgeable in cinematic universes, we've been trained to sit and wait for an end credits scene to tantalize us of future installments to come. For SKULL ISLAND, its connection to the MonsterVerse and GODZILLA is made clear when Conrad (Tom Hiddleston) and Mason (Brie Larson) are shown archived footage of cave paintings discovered by the Monarch group. And who do we see etched into the walls as monstrous outlines? Godzilla, Rodan, Mothra, and King Ghidorah! Wooo! And then it cuts to black with dat Godzilla roar! Woooooooooooo! Holy crippity crap, that's an exciting confirmation that G will not only be back, but that he's bringing his old compadres along too! Yay! Funny enough, we laughed at the notion brought up in GODZILLA that creatures just dug into the Earth's crust and hid for millions of years as they were mutated by radiation, yet SKULL ISLAND actually doubles down on the idea. It's geologist Houston (Corey Hawkins) that tells us of the idea of the “hollow earth” where our world contains a large spacious interior instead of thousands of layers of material. In reality, this was an actual hypothesis held in regard by scientists for years until the 18th century, yet writers have continued to use this idea as the basis for many stories from Jules Verne's classic novel JOURNEY TO THE CENTER OF THE EARTH to the modern day video game series GEARS OF WAR. I guess if you want to do some world building, sometimes you have to look deep inside and discover..... how empty it is? Help me out here, Luca.


Yeah, sure! You see, when a man goes off to war… he finds something in himself… and he cannot go home until he knows what that is… but if you don’t, then… you… stay… at war? Look, I dunno, man, that’s what John Goodman’s Monarch scientist Bill Randa tells Conrad when they go dig him up in some Vietnam opium den. The character is weirdly set up as this man who seen some shit in the bush, who doesn’t dare go home because of what he has found out about himself or realized about humanity, and then… he is a perfectly well-adjusted and capable rational adult throughout the whole film? I swear, it’s like they forgot to actually write in a pay-off for that setup! Mason Weaver is an anti-war photographer who goes along because she is suspicious that this Landsat mapping mission is actually a covert military op and she wants to be IN THE SHIT. She’s kinda right but also not? Look, frankly we need a blonde on Skull Island as is tradition… Next to John C. Reilly’s Marlowe, Samuel L. Jackson’s colonel Preston Packard (what a comic book name!) is the one with the most clearly defined set of goals. “Do we get to winnnn this time, sir?” as John J. Rambo said in 1985. Well, maybe not if your opponent is the gawwwd king of Skull Island! 

Sam does a decent job as the Ahab of Skull Island, but amid all this heavy symbolism we are beaten over the head with like a boat’s propeller, something felt a little bit off. Skull Island is revealed due to the inexorable rise of man, his overreach into a world that was not his! Oh merciless hubris! If you rub this theme against a Vietnam setting, aka the most classic example of American overreach of the 20th century, then… well… loath am I to take a paycheck away from a black man, but… here’s one rare instance where I feel like a white dude would have been more appropriate for the story being told. And apparently, this was the case originally, as scheduling conflicts pushed the original Packard actor, JK Simmons, out of the movie. In fact, for more cohesion, I suggest Weaver’s arc should have been combined up with Conrad’s: the tracker who’s seen some beastly shit out in the field, but regains his humanity after making a connection with the noble soul that is Kong. I mean, this kinda writes out Brie Larson, but hey, there were female USMC colonels and Navy Admirals in 1973 so maybe this is Hiddleston getting written out hmmmmm?

If I’m sounding like I’m fairly critical of the movie, it’s because something caught my eye (ear) during Kong’s full introduction that you already mentioned, Travis. As he swats down some of the last remaining helicopters our heroes brought to the island, Kong is separated from the soldiers by a napalm-induced wall of flame. As a gust of wind separates the fires, our Ahab and his white whale come face to face in a moment that is expertly set up by Jordan Voght-Roberts – man and beast, locked in deadly confrontation, setting off down a path only one will return from. All sound is reduced to a background humming, Sam Jackson and the good people at ILM/Kong squint at each other, hellfire blazing in their eyes, and the music… barely registers. This is such a modern blockbuster complaint – I found myself sighing during a screening of LOGAN over this very matter but two weeks earlier – that I found my mood dampened substantially. Unfair to the film, perhaps, as I still ended up enjoying it well enough due to its energetic pacing, great effects and the good cheer it exuded, but hey, feelings is feelings! If you’re going to make such an effort of simultaneously connecting yourself with GODZILLA story-wise but refuting its (self)seriousness tone-wise, you’re also going to draw some comparisons to Alexandre Desplat’s solid work on the G-Man’s musical identity. Hmmm those taiko drums and urgent strings… Did you have any misgivings at all, Travis?


Going back to something I said earlier, SKULL ISLAND certainly has a brisk pace. For the most part, this works in the movie's favor, as we're never bored as soon as the characters reach monster territory. It's one kaiju set piece after another; no SIMPSONS-esque “when are they getting to the fireworks factory” complaints here! One way the action speeds along is that the second and third acts use many montages of our heroes (human and ape) walking and surviving in between those “firework” scenes. It mostly works, yet when we get to the third montage of such stuff, it feels like the filmmakers could've cut it out or even maybe let the individual scenes play out and breath a little more. For instance, one of the montages cuts between the three separated groups (Hiddleston & company, Jackson & his squad, Kong) as they watch the Northern Lights in the night sky. It lasts about a minute, and the goal of it is to show a humane side of Kong as he shows the same wonderment of the brilliant light display as the humans. But it cuts away from him a little too briefly for my tastes. We do get the point of it, but perhaps allowing the montage another minute or so for our characters to admire and unknowingly bond over this natural phenomena would've made it sink in deeper than simply prove a point.

Still, despite those faults, SKULL ISLAND is a rollicking good time that bodes well for the future of the MonsterVerse. It didn't occur to until reflecting on the movie that it does a good amount of table setting for its cinematic universe. In this film alone, we see the first expansion of Monarch, the introduction of Kong, the explanation of where the monsters come from, acknowledgments of GODZILLA, and a flat-out viral teaser of GODZILLA 2. And it never feels extraneous! One complaint fans of superhero movies often have is that many of the cinematic universe connected films feature so much set up for future installments that it comes to detriment of the individual film. From IRON MAN 2 to BATMAN V. SUPERMAN: DAWN OF JUSTICE, fanboys like continuity but not at the cost of quality storytelling. Amazingly, SKULL ISLAND does even more world building than GODZILLA, yet it doesn't detract from simply being a fun kaiju flick. If the King of the Monsters proved that kaiju can still mean big business, then the Eight Wonder of the World showed that they're here to stay. Long live the Kings!

Wednesday, January 4, 2017

Sherlock Holmes and the Emotional Apocalypse

This post will contain spoilers for Sherlock s4e01, The Six Thatchers, straight out the gate. Read on at your own peril.

At this point, I'm inured to the fact that a Moffat show killed/depowered/threw aside a female character as gristle on the angst-mill of a cishet white male lead. I might as well be waving placards at a Michael Bay premiere, rallying against glistening bronzed butts. I knew what I was in for, after half a decade of Moffat shit.

Well no, that's not entirely true. After five years of fans critiquing these very tendencies, the Doctor Who and Sherlock showrunner still pulling that old shit does grate.

But if you insist on revisiting such backward patriarchal bullshit, you better do your job properly to make me forgive it. Shane Black reminding me his ex-wife's a bittcchhhhh is at least countermanded by Ryan Gosling and Russell Crowe doing funny pratfalls.

What is death for a mystery?


The mystery tale dangles clues in front of you, shows you paths through a maze that the attentive viewer/reader/listener might choose, hoping to get at the center of it at the same time as the characters do.

Personally, I don't even mind solving a mystery before the characters do (although, even here, there are limits, of course). No, what a mystery can truly never recover from is the viewer coming up with a path through the maze that leads to the center and is more interesting than the path it actually turns out to be.

Episode writer Mark Gatiss -- a lovely actor, competent writer -- spends the start of Sherlock's return retconning Sherlock's exile and murder of a lecherous blackmailing media magnate at the end of last season. This is stuff that honestly could have been done at the end of that particular season, and a good example of stuff not as cool as something the viewer came up with.

Instead of sending Sherlock into exile for 5 minutes, then immediately retrieving him because Poorly Photoshopped Moriarty Frames were threatening London, Mycroft could have just collected Sherlock and John, expressed disappointment at his little brother, and made the bad press go away in a few lines.

Dark ending? Sherlock knew that he had been outfoxed by a sweaty pervert and forced to resort to common, plebeian murder he knew he could get away with being Mycroft Holmes' younger brother; invoking privilege he tried going through life never having to call upon. Now he had, and Mycroft and John both knew it.

That's all stuff that could have happened last season, freeing up some time for this season's case.

Ah yes, this season's case.

What drew me to Sherlock in the first place were the twists on old tales, where they started with a concept vaguely similar to the old short stories concept, but soon twisted it into modern updates with wholly different outcomes, with the occasional amusing easter egg for Doyle fans (my favorite being the spooky flashlight signals on the moors in the Baskerville episode actually being used by enthusiastic doggers rather than shadowy conspirators).

Last season, however, the focus strongly shifted from detective stories to melodrama and family comedy. At first, I found this rather amusing. From its inception, the show had more than its fair share of fans who didn't much care about the mystery side of things, as much as the possibility of Sherlock and Watson (or Sherlock and Moriarty, or Mycroft and Lestrade, ...) hooking up and being catty gay roomies. It was the emotional interplay that was finding strong fan resonance, with Sherlock's emotionally distant "high-functioning sociopath" gently opened up (haha) by gentle everyman John Watson.

This fan-imagined relationship took place in a non-canonical alternate universe and was dubbed "Johnlock". Moffat even acknowledged the shipping fandom in the first episode of season 3, with a shaking fangirl expressing what she thought happened on that roof between Sherlock and Moriarty during the season 2 finale, culminating in a near-kiss.

The fact that it was a near-kiss is important.

Proving beyond a doubt that the creative team was aware of what the Sherlock fandom craved then, were these two things:

1) moving away from a case-based narrative towards one where main character emotional catharsis was crucial;

2) the "crazy fangirl" gag, seeing homosexual relationships where none existed.

Sure, Moffat and co said. We'll start chasing the feelz if that's what they respond to. But hahaha come now chaps... none of that homo shit... this IS a high profile BBC show...

The introduction of Mary Morstan, Watson's wife from the books, and the updating of her character as a special forces operative didn't especially bother me. Nor did the devotion of an entire episode to "Sherlock being cute and awkward at John and Mary's wedding" -- especially rich since a season is only three episodes.

The characters and melodrama coming to the forefront were essentially fair game in my eyes, since Sherlock, like Batman or Zorro or Dracula, is such a cultural archetype at this point that if your particular spin is "silly sitcom Sherlock", so be it.

The Six Thatchers depleted all my patience reserves.

Constant dramatic declarations, preposterously self-involved speechifying, grimly determined walking away from the camera as symbolic effects are overlaid around a character's face... Unlike Doctor Who, that other Moffat show, however, the fate of the universe is never in the balance. Because it works for Who, though, Moffat & co seem to want to employ it here. What such grandiosity turns a show about two characters into, is self-importance. And it would be hilarious... if it weren't in service of a show that has time and again shown its contempt for an acknowledged queer and female fandom.

We will turn it into a soap opera, as that's what you like, but let us remind you that these two men are what's truly important in it.

Sherlock's characterization as an aspie Mary Sue who may not understand all these human emotions but gosh dangit he will protect his loved ones at all costs... would be ridiculously entertaining if it weren't in the service of such heteronormative pap.

John Watson suffers most of all, as at one point during the episode I wondered "Wait, has Watson actually done anything likeable or funny at all so far?" Mind you, this was before we get to know he has a totally non-suspicious affair. Watson cheating on his wife! Because she lied to him about being a hard ops woman! The affair is not with a man, obviously.

Again, melodrama over detective work doesn't phase me in the least. In fact, it could make for a highly amusing show with the right anything-goes attitude. Unfortunately, only one thing goes: the emotional lives of the two cishet white boyz at the center, and anything else must go.

My most cynical self looks at the status quo at the end of The Six Thatchers and sees another middle finger at the fandom: single parent John and guardian Sherlock in an antagonistic, emotionally fraught relationship, calling to mind the more angsty parts of "Parentlock", an alternate universe conjured by fans in which Sherlock and Watson are, indeed, parents. The son, Hamish, is even sort-of canonically agreed upon to be played by actor Asa Butterfield.

You got all that now, sorta! But none of that homo shit tho. Be reasonable.

Sunday, November 20, 2016

A Case of the Not Gays: Hollywood's Subtle Othering

On a rainy Sunday afternoon, my partner, idly browsing Netflix, chose to rewatch TROY. It had been over a decade for her, and nearly as long for me. After a few minutes, I decided to stay put and follow along: the broad acting, telegraphing all emotions for the peanut gallery by (mostly) expert thesps proved too tempting a pide bread to lie uneaten.

Any Hollywood movie set in Ancient Greece (or featuring Greeks) always comes with a bit of a disclaimer: it would be a long shot to ask modern audiences to empathize with characters who engage in educational (!) pederasty, or to face the disconnect that the FOUNDERS OF DEMOCRACY were guys who locked their wives up in the house never to be allowed out.

It's not just the Greeks this happens to: any culture from the past sufficiently alien to ours will experience a moral adaptation. Consider the inspiring Aragorn speech Elizabeth Swann gave to an assembled army of pirates regarding FREEDOM in the third PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN film. Mel Gibson in THE PATRIOT and his salary-receivin' black employees. KINGDOM OF HEAVEN features a 12th century Christian proclaiming on his deathbed that he repented all his sins but one... his illegitimate son who is also the film's protagonist. My friends, I hope you also howl at the idea of a 12th century man saying "I don't regret all my sins" on his deathbed!

On the one hand, I understand. Hollywood blockbusters aren't history lessons, and people just show up to be entertained. Asking someone to experience a -- to our modern eyes -- morally abhorrent culture and empathize with its people is perhaps a mental exercise too great for a relaxing date night.

However, what shouldn't be too out there for a modern day movie is to reflect the diversity of modern day society. It's hard, it's hard, we know. You gotta sell your movie to the fly-over states, to Russia, to China, to India, ... not exactly the most progressive territories. So ya gotta play it safe!

One of the most insidiously abhorrent ways modern movies "play it safe" is establishing a Case of the Not Gays for its male leads. "A Case of the Not Gays" is a term coined by Red Letter Media in their video review of JJ Abrams' Star Trek reboot. In it, they claim the romance between Spock and Uhura is shoehorned into this new continuity so as to dispel any notions that the logical, soft-spoken, page-boy sportin' Spock could possibly be a homosexual. With Kirk, they simply showed him mackin' on a green lady et voilà. Bones? Introduced complaining about his ex-wife! Do not worry my Iowan/Russian/Chinese central government friends... no debauchery here...

JACK REACHER introduces its Reddit fedora hero waking up next to a thong lady. She is an unnamed character who does not appear in the movie further. Reacher is kind of an asexual throughout the rest of it, even refusing sex at some point. But don't worry, he's not, you know...

TROY has Achilles waking up covered in wenches, to reassure everyone that although he's one of them Old Greeks and we're going to lovingly film his semi-naked waxed and oiled torso. But don't worry...

Establishing a Case of the Not Gays is especially evil in my opinion, as it manages the double whammy of objectification of women to serve the purpose of gay erasure. This movie may not feature this character in any sex or romance but believe us buddy he is nothing but straight! Look! A hot chick he just banged that will have no further bearing on the plot!

DR. STRANGE did it masterfully, as all relationships with any story-weight the main character has, are with men. Whoops, better toss in a chick cuz this guy already sorta looks like Liberace!

Like all things patriarchal, Establishing Notgays doesn't just hurt women and queer people, it's bad for cishet young lads as well. By making absolutely sure that every male protagonist in every mainstream movie is not only straight, but also a ladies man, but also monogamous when it "counts" aka when they are with the female lead, perpetuating the bullshit myth that there are "good" women and disposable ones.

Rare is the case where a female character is introduced having sex with an unimportant male character to establish her seduction/libido bonafides (one that comes to mind is Anya Amasova in THE SPY WHO LOVED ME -- that's right, James Bond, of all franchises) without having her be demonized somehow.

The solution? As ever, more women and queer people in decisions of creative power, producing stories where such folk have agency in the plot. But ayyy y'all probably already knew that.

Establishing Notgays: not just funny, actively evil! Please keep this in mind next time you see a movie. Bring it up in conversation. Be obnoxious about it when someone jokes that you're "overanalyzing" things, or you're being politically correct.

Don't back down, my friends.


Wednesday, November 16, 2016

The harsh light of scrutiny

When I first met my dear friend Travis Kirkland, there was but one conclusion I could draw. I drew it laughing, though with nothing but love in my heart as I did. The inescapable summation of our first encounter was this:

Travis is an American.

His nigh-Gilliamesque accounts of bacchanals at Denny's and Arby's and Wendy's, his encyclopedic knowledge of the Plastic Kingdom of Disney or Jim Henson's Creature Workshop and suchlike are just one side of that equation. His exuberance, his openness, his irreducible enthusiasm, his wonderful sense of humor and his kaiju-sized heart: All of those add up to a person I am honored to know and undeserving to call my friend.  And indeed, a quintessentially American one, no less.

Now, coming from a smug Eurotrash non-binary funny cigarette smokin' socialist, that might mean precious little upon first glance. However, before I became the unbearably ironic internet hipster you all know and love, I was, believe it or not, an earnest child. It's true!

The discovery of World War II narratives around the same time that Peter Jackson's LORD OF THE RINGS trilogy came out seemed like a cosmic serendipity solely intended to maximize my wide-eyed belief in absolute goodness vanquishing absolute evil. If there was any moral imperative inherent to all mankind, surely it was the duty to oppose hatred wherever it appeared.

And oh man, were Americans ever good at that. Nearly every story I grew up watching, reading, experiencing showed me a good old two-fisted blue-collar Joe with some common sense wisdom and witty banter out to stop the baddies who were just out to ruin everyone's good time and take their shit.

The world was essentially okay, but these assholes? Man, they just wanted to ice-skate uphill. Luckily, 90 minutes later, the Bad Things would more or less be removed from the equation and things would be Good again.

These stories were always outsized and simplistic and hilarious and reductive and awesome and, well, American.

"Esagerazione!" I remember my late grandfather exclaim at a toppling and exploding army truck in RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, an altogether fairly small-scale gag in a -- by modern standards -- fairly subdued movie. This was over the top enough to have nonno exclaim "exaggeration"?

 It has always stood in my mind as the perfect juxtaposition of the Old World vs. the New. My European reality vs. the American fantasy: a raspy-voiced old workman expressing disdain at some guileless fireworks, a decadent entertainment far from the comfort of sausages, cigarettes and greasy playing cards. Any wonder young me chose to escape to the fireworks factory whenever possible?

 The 00s and the Iraq War did their damnedest to disabuse me of any notions of American exceptionalism, although I hope that the sheer weight of growing up brought some sense in itself.

In Garth Ennis' comic book Preacher, an old nazi war criminal in hiding in the small town of Salvation, TX says the myth of America is that she would be a place where everyone could shed their old grievances, their ridiculous hates and begin again.

"Under the harsh light of scrutiny, that myth is false. But it is a good myth to live up to."

Last week, America lifted a rock and shone the light of scrutiny upon a bed of diseased roaches who now scurry about in deluded victory, believing they have forever extinguished the light of decency from their shining city upon the hill.

Yesterday, a cancerous amoeba told my friend to "go back to his own country."

I say he's already there.

I say it is people like him, and all those Americans I am honored to know and count among my friends, that make up whatever fiction or collection of ideals made America that odd, irresistible, glorious melting pot people like me fell in love with.

Under the harsh light of scrutiny, the myth of America is false. No nation could withstand such idealism, arbitrary geographical constructs of an aristocratic 18th/19th century elite as they are.

It is only upon individuals that this light may shine and reveal not a stunted, wretched, hateful thing, but a reflection of ideals worthy of conservation.

To Travis, and to all of you, my friends across the pond, thank you for being just that.

Now join a union and hoist a placard.