Poem: A to Z (2014)

At work, the students in a language arts class had to write "autobiographical alphabet poems," coming up with 26 words to describe themselves arranged in alphabetical order.  Incurable nerd that I am, I had to do it as well.  Here's what I came up with - I had fun playing around with a different style, that highly-rhyming, stream-of-consciousness list poem stuff.

*          *          *

A to Z

I’ll try not to stress or obsess

As I stand before you and confess
The portrait of the poet
As a young mess.
I’ve taken the time to compose myself
In unschemed rhyme,
And though I’m far from fully actualized,
I’m alphabetically summarized.

You may not believe or conceive,

But I wear my ACE of hearts
On my sleeve.
I’m a voracious BOOKWORM
With unconfirmed ambitions,
A CYNICAL DREAMER
With oxymoronic
Self-definitions.
I walk other people’s miles
In EMPATHETIC shoes,
And I refuse to choose
Between literary FREAK
And sci-fi GEEK,
Because either way you lean,
There’s too much to lose.

I’ll gladly share for those unaware

That my quick-fingered HANDS
Can paint language in the air.
I’m INTROVERTED
But not disconcerted –
A bit of alone time,
And crisis averted.
A sardonic JESTER
Now and again,
And nine times out of ten
A KEEPER of others’ woes;
I guess I have one of those faces
That tends to indicate
Open ears to LISTEN
And open hearts to relate.

When I can’t sleep,

I sink deep
Into a bed of MELODY,
Taking a dose of strong music
As a natural remedy.
When I can’t think
And I’m a chronic NEUROTIC,
I pull back from the brink
By braiding my OTHERNESS
Into ribbons of slick,
Self-spun, black ink.
I can be ironic sometimes,
At others, laconic,
And I’m a solo-flyer
'Cause I’m strictly PLATONIC.

I’m a QUESTION-ASKER,

A RIDDLE-UNMASKER
And I multitask
With stunning mediocrity.
Come flock to me,
And I’ll sing you a story
Of a procrastinating,
SELF-BERATING being
Of untested steel
Who’s fond of self-doubt
With a nice takeout meal.
I’m a THINKER of far-flung thoughts,
A weaver of plots
In an overstressed head
With the unspoken wants
Of my own private haunts.

I’m a work in progress,

UNFINISHED,
And yet undiminished –
I’m just one half-written poem
In the tome of my life,
And I’m rife with the potential
Of a 400-pager.
Some days,
I’m VARIATIONS on myself
In E major.
At my best, I see even more;
When my soul starts to outpour
And I open the door
On a WOULD-BE WORD WARRIOR.

What else is there to be?

I wonder, I roam,
I keep the Sabbath at home,
And I’m a XX chromosome.
In the morning light,
I think I’m all right,
Though I know I could do better.
I’m built from all my YESTERDAYS
While my tomorrows
Draft next-phase blueprints
In invisible letters.
I’m too ZEALOUS perhaps,
But when you live without maps
And come to a lapse,
You have to find something
To fill in the gaps.

Now that you’ve heard my ABCs,

Please do me a favor
And don’t put too much stock in it –
Give it a minute or two,
And I’ll rewrite myself anew.

Relationship Spotlight: Henry Tilney & Catherine Morland (Northanger Abbey)

 

Lizzie/Darcy is of course the heavy-hitter, and I’ll admit particular fondness for popular pairings Anne/Wentworth and Emma/Knightley.  However, when it comes right down to it, gun to my head, if I had to pick a favorite Jane Austen couple, it’d be this fun duo without a doubt.

 

Off the bat, I’ll confess that these two don’t provide as much dramatic fodder as your Lizzies & Darcys and the other couples listed above.  They don’t get intp brutal arguments simmering with buried passion and there are no knockout declarations like Capt. Wentworth’s gorgeous letter to Anne.  Similarly, there’s no fabulous wealth for anyone to come into.  Catherine is one of ten children of a country vicar, and though Henry comes from a very well-to-do family, he’s a second son and will need to make his own way in the world.  And to top it off, they’re not even that luscious!  Austen describes Catherine as “almost pretty” and Henry as “very near to” handsome.

 

So why do I like them so much?  For this very simple reason:  they go together so well.  From the moment Catherine meets Henry, even though he’s far more used to Bath society than she is, he makes it clear that they don’t have to worry about it.  Rather than insisting upon the expected social conventions, he makes light of them, conducting small talk in an arch and ridiculous manner before assuring Catherine that it’s over and they “may be rational again.”  His irony nicely complements her earnestness, and she’s sweet enough to round out his more satiric moments.

 

Throughout the book, we see the shared interests between the two.  At first, Catherine is a little sheepish about her love of novels – in Austen’s day, “novels” were distinct from “literature,” considered cheap thrills mostly intended for silly girls – but soon discovers that Henry likes a good, sensational yarn just as much as she does, and they enjoy discussing stories they’ve both read.  Henry and his sister Eleanor, avid drawers, help Catherine develop her artistic eye, and when Catherine visits the Tilney’s at Northanger Abbey, their time is spent going on walks and rides and playing games together.  With so many fictional couples, I can be at a loss as to what they actually talk about or do for fun (ahem! Leonard and Penny ahem!,) but with Catherine and Henry, I don’t have to wonder.

 

Speaking of Eleanor, I also like that it’s not this all-consuming connection that blots out everything else.  Though it’s clear from the start that Catherine has a pretty massive crush on Henry, she gets to be very good friends with Eleanor as well.  When the three of them hang out together, Eleanor isn’t painted as the second fiddle, and when it’s just the two girls, there’s no sense that Catherine is dissatisfied and would rather be with Henry.  Plus, Henry’s affectionate relationship with his sister mirror’s Catherine’s own with her brother James. 

 

In short, they seem like a couple that would truly “work.”  You can talk all day about chemistry and spark and excitement, and I’m not saying those things don’t merit consideration, but in the end, a couple needs to get along.  They need to make each other happy, they need to enjoy one another’s company, and they need things they like doing together.  If not, what’s the point?

The Amazing Spider-Man 2 (2014, PG-13)

 

My weekend of Pride and movies continues with The Amazing Spider-Man 2.  I’d been one of the people who cast dubious glances at the new Spider-Man franchise when it was initially announced.  Surely we weren’t in need of a reboot already!  But I was colored wrong when the first film came out two years ago.  Sure, the movies are rougher and a little more haphazard than the Dark Knight trilogy or the Avengers franchise, but they’re highly entertaining.

 

As with its predecessor, The Amazing Spider-Man 2’s best asset is its superb lead characters.  Andrew Garfield is a fantastic Spidey/Peter Parker, giving a performance infused with charm and likeability.  What’s more, he’s greatly helped by the writing, which maintains Peter’s nerdy knowhow and endearingly silly snark.  Whether he’s performing DIY web-shooter improvements in a garage or tossing a cocky rejoinder at a bad guy, he feels true to Spider-Man in a way that the last franchise never really achieved.  Likewise, Emma Stone’s Gwen Stacy is clever and compelling.  She and Garfield have sweet chemistry peppered with witty remarks, and most importantly, she contributes to the plot in meaningful ways that amount to more than just getting captured.  (It’s sad that that’s so noteworthy, but it is.)

 

This movie also introduces Harry Osborn, Peter’s best friend and heir to the monolithic Oscorp.  Though this plot is a bit underwritten, relying mainly on the fine performance from Dane DeHaan (who I’d not seen before) and the strength of his connection with Garfield, it’s utterly watchable.  Harry is equal parts spoiled rich boy, desperate young man, and resourceful magnificent bastard, but all the parts feel cohesive and fitting for the character.  The basic Osborn/Green Goblin origin is tinkered with in unexpected ways that made it more interesting for me.  It seems that the Spider-Man movies tend to like their villains to have motivations other than basic greed, power hunger, or evilness.  It’s not always successful (see Electro below,) but it really works here.

 

The other major threads of the story are unfortunately less riveting.  Electro (Jamie Foxx) is coolly rendered and has some excellent action sequences, but his motivation is sketchy at best and leans too heavily on “unstable loner” clichés.  As fabulous as Peter and Gwen’s scenes are together, their conflicts here feel like a retread of problems dealt with at the end of the first film, and there are an awful lot of daddy issues that threaten to overwhelm the narrative.

 

So, it’s far from perfect, but it’s so enjoyable that I can’t complain too much.  It’s fast-paced and funny, with exciting action and strong character work.  I know I’ll watch as long as they keep making these movies and have a consistently great time.

 

Warnings

 

Lots of comic book violence and some scary scenes.

Belle (2014, PG)

 

I’m in the Cities for Pride, and I thought why not make it Pride and a show (or two?)  Saints be praised, the movies I missed are still in a few nearby theaters.  Let’s kick things off with Belle.

 

This lovely film is based on the true story of Dido Belle Lindsay, the illegitimate biracial daughter of an aristocratic British naval captain in the 18^th century.  After the death of her mother, Dido’s father officially acknowledges the young girl, giving her his last name and bringing her to be raised by his aunt and uncle while he is at sea.  She grows up alongside her white cousin Elizabeth, who is also illegitimate but unacknowledged by her own father. 

 

As you might imagine, the historical context gives Dido a vast and complex social system to navigate, especially when her father is killed at sea and leaves her his fortune.  Her great aunt and uncle love her dearly, and Elizabeth is like a sister to her, but from the start, she’s given a laundry list of rules that she alone must follow:  guidelines that dictate when she is and isn’t allowed to show her face.  She also lives in an England that is growing increasingly divided on the issue of slavery, a debate that her great uncle strives to keep her from hearing.

 

Dido is played excellently by the gorgeous Gugu Mbatha-Raw, who was Martha’s sister Tish on Doctor Who.  She’s intelligent and curious, sensitive and passionate, proud and willful.  She carries herself with a haughtiness that she wraps protectively about her, a coping mechanism against her situation.  She knows, for example, that the “mere” son of a vicar would be invited to her great uncle’s dinner table before she, a lady of the house, would be granted the same honor.  So, she pulls rank with others before they can do so with her and clings to the conventions with which she’s been raised, even though they stifle her at every turn.

 

So many fascinating layers are at play here.  Watching young Dido (no more than 6 or 7) play with Elizabeth, her great aunt and uncle decide that she will never marry; any man who would “overlook” her skin color and deign to marry her wouldn’t be of sufficient class for her father’s bloodline.  Meanwhile, Elizabeth, who, unlike Dido, has no inheritance to provide for her, is unable to find anyone to marry a beautiful and lively – but penniless – girl.  Additionally, Dido has no guide to contextualize her own blackness.  She only has her family’s contradictory “some animals are more equal than others” rules to go by, as well as the family portraits that show black slaves in subservient, diminished positions beside her white ancestors.  She doesn’t even know how her curly hair needs to be combed; it isn’t until her family arrives in London for the season that a black maid teaches her the proper way (shades of Suzanne on Orange is the New Black.) 

 

Joining Gugu Mbatha-Raw are Tom Wilkinson and Emily Watson as her great aunt and uncle.  Miranda Richardson and fellow Who alum Penelope Wilton (Harriet Jones!) are also in the film, and Matthew Goode, who I loved in A Single Man, makes a brief appearance as her father.  Plus, there’s Tom Felton, a.k.a. Draco Malfoy, who seems to be making a career out of playing slimy, bigoted little creeps – lucky him.

 

Warnings

 

Thematic elements, some language (including racist remarks,) and a little smoking/drinking.

Top Five Stories (Sort Of): The Eighth Doctor

This one’s tricky, because Eight never had a real televised run.  Until the recent pre-anniversary short, the TV movie was his only onscreen appearance.  Like all Doctors, Eight has had numerous novel, audio, and comic adventures, but since most of my non-TV Who consumption so far has been focused on New Who, I’ve only checked out three of them.  So, less “Top Five” and more “Only Five I’ve Seen So Far.”  Still, Eight is a great Doctor, and he deserves his turn.

 

“Doctor Who:  The Movie”

 

Obviously, we have to start with Eight’s big foray.  Don’t get me wrong – the TV movie has massive problems, ranging from the half-human nonsense to Eric Roberts’s insanely hammy Master.  But Eight is just magnificent in it.  Kind, exuberant, romantic-ish, and an odd Doctory mix of scatterbrained and laser focus, he’s every inch the Doctor, and his interactions with Grace pave the way for the not-always-platonic Doctor-companion relationships of the new series.

 

“The Night of the Doctor” (short film)

 

This little snippet is really lovely, bittersweet and weighty.  After years (decades? centuries? who knows) of the Time War, the Doctor comes to the realization that he must be the one to end it.  Even more so, that he (Eight) cannot do it himself.  He maintains wisps of his old humor and heart right to the end – an excellent coda to a fine Doctor.

 

Destiny of the Doctor, Volume 8:  “Enemy Aliens” (audiobook)

 

As part of the 50^th anniversary Destiny of the Doctor series, the Doctor and long-running audio companion Charley end up in 1935 London, where German spies aren’t the only “enemy aliens” about.  Charley seems like a top-notch character, and she’s great with the Doctor.  Oh, and a worldwide invasion hinges on the frickin’ William Tell Overture!  That’s pure Who right there.

 

Prisoners of Time, Chapter 8:  “The Body Politic” (comic story)

 

Another 50^th anniversary publication – Prisoners of Time is awfully cool, showing companions to each Doctor being kidnapped by a shadowy adversary and culminating in a big showdown for Eleven.  Anyway, this chapter shows the Doctor reuniting with Grace for a proper TARDIS trip.  I like the alien agrarian culture depicted, and the story’s almost fairytale-esque quality.  I also love the Doctor making fun of their shoddy prison when they’re inevitably captured.

The Forgotten, Chapter 5:  “Revelation” (comic story)

 

Like Prisoners of Time, this is a story in which all the Doctors have a featurette.  Ten has arrived in a mysterious museum that seems devoted to his past exploits, and his memories hold the key to getting out alive.  The Eight story is set during the Time War, and we see some of how the war has transformed the Doctor.  Though he hasn’t yet turned to despair, he’s demoralized and beginning to think about possible ways to bring it to an end.  It’s a sobering chapter in an absolutely marvelous story; I really can’t speak highly enough of The Forgotten in its entirety.

Orange is the New Black Wish List

 

With nearly a year to wait until season 3, it’s time to look towards the future and muse about what I’d like to see when the good ship Orange is the New Black returns.  In many ways, the sophomore season improves upon the show’s first outing, but there’s always room for tinkering.  These are my season 3 wishes.  (Once again, I’ll disclaim the possibility of spoilers; some very specific season 2 mentions here.)

 

·    More stories for the Latina inmates – We’ve now seen flashbacks for eight of the white characters (including multiple Piper- and Red-centric episodes) and all eight black characters (thanks largely to the Vee arc in season 2,) but only three Latina characters – four if you stretch to count Aleida’s involvement in Daya’s flashback.  I’d love to learn more about Maria, Flaca, and Maritza, and I’d definitely like more Flores.  That said…

 

·    Less Daya/Bennett – These two bore me; what can I say?  They had sweet interactions in the beginning, but now, they both seem so dumb, and their plots tend to feel a little rinse-and-repeat.  Either shake up their storyline or put less focus on it.

 

·    Someone to help Nicky – I’ll admit it – I’m very worried for Nicky.  I was on pins and needles when she was given heroin, and I had to reassure myself that it’d be too repetitive for the show to kill off a white gay junkie via overdose in the second half of both seasons.  She’s been okay so far, but I don’t like the way she looks at that stash in the finale.  Show, make sure she has someone to help her be strong.

 

·    Overall plot balance – Piper/Alex are interesting to me, so I’m glad it looks like Alex will be back for season 3.  However, I also love the more true-ensemble feel of season 2, with different characters coming to the fore.  When the show returns, I’d like to see it strike a nice balance between Piper’s story and everyone else.

 

·    More humor – Season 2 has terrific drama, but sometimes it gets a bit too heavy.  Orange is the New Black is a dramedy at its core, and means, again, balance – this time between serious and funny.  Let’s be sure to keep plenty of laughs moving forward.

 

·    More of the Sophia-Sister friendship – Sophia felt really sidelined this season, and I love her unlikely friendship with Sister Jones.  More, please!

 

·    More interracial queer interaction – Despite Suzanne’s initial interest in Piper, the LGBTQ stuff has been pretty segregated.  I get that Litchfield is pretty segregated in general, and it wouldn’t bother me so much if the QPoCs didn’t seem so separated from one another.  There’s no sense of solidarity between Suzanne, Poussey, and Sophia, nothing like the tight-knit subculture between the white queer inmates.  I’d like to see more between them, and more cross-cultural interactions.  There are some great, brief interactions this season (Nicky and Poussey, Suzanne and Morello,) but there’s a lot of room for more.  And along those lines…

 

·    A girlfriend for Poussey – Seriously, she’s a catch.  She deserves better than a crush on her best friend.  A new character seems like the best bet right now, although, of the existing characters, I’m a little intrigued by the possibility of Poussey/Nicky.  I can’t quite picture it, but it’s probably the healthiest of all their current options.  Either way, I’d love to see how Taystee reacts to Poussey being with someone.

 

·    Something good for Suzanne – Anything, really.  Season 2 was hard on her; she went down a bad road and was used by a despicable person.  Let’s see some redemption for her actions as well as something that allows her to be genuinely happy for a little while.

Top Five Songs: Parade

More Parade!  As I said yesterday, the show’s lovely score needs more praise devoted to it than I had space for in my last post, so we’re back to look at the music.  Here are my absolute favorite songs from this show.

“The Old Red Hills of Home” – This opening number drops us right into the world of Parade, first through the history that informs its people and then fading into the “present” of 1913.  I love the way it opens with a young soldier going off to fight in the Civil War and segues to the same man, now an old veteran, taking part in the Memorial Day parade.

Best Line:  “We gave our lives for the old hills of Georgia, / The old red hills of home. / Not much survives of the old hills of Georgia / But I close my eyes and hear / All the treasures we held dear.”

“It Don’t Make Sense” – The shared grief of an entire community at an unexpected tragedy is poignantly realized in this number.  The people of Atlanta mourn the loss of 13-year-old Mary Phagan and ask how such a horrific thing could have happened.  Led by Frankie, who’d been sweet on Mary, it’s both universal and deeply personal.

Best Line:  “And no, it don’t make sense / The way the world can let you fall - / I swear it don’t make sense to me at all.”

 

 

“The Factory Girls” – In Leo’s trial, three of the girls who work for him are called to the stand to lie about him, claiming he’s made lascivious advances toward them.  The subject matter is monstrous, but the music is just unbelievably beautiful.  The resulting song is haunting and evocative.

Best Line:  “I’m in the hall / And then he’s there, / He passes much too close. / I change my clothes, / Put up my hair, / And somehow, I’m sure he knows.”

(I couldn't find a single picture of this song from the original Broadway cast.  This one is from a production in St. Louis.

“A Rumblin’ and a Rollin’” – I mentioned this one yesterday.  After Leo receives his guilty verdict, people in the North rush to defend him and fight for justice.  Meanwhile, the black citizens of Georgia take the whole conceit to task, wondering where the outcry is against the racism that informs their lives.

Best Line:  “I can tell you this, as a matter of fact, / That the local hotels wouldn’t be so packed / If a little black girl had gotten attacked.”

“This Is Not Over Yet” – When Leo finds out there’s a possibility his death sentence may be commuted, he clings to it desperately.  His wife Lucille is responsible, and Leo sings her praises as he contemplates his chance at life.

Best Line:  “It means the journey ahead might get shorter; / I might reach the end of my rope; / But suddenly, loud as a mortar, / There is hope! / Finally, hope!”

Parade (1998)

 

I adore all three cast recordings I own from Jason Robert Brown shows, but this one remains my favorite.  While The Last Five Years is masterful storytelling and some of the sequences in Songs for a New World are simply breathtaking, Parade tells its searing story pretty remarkably through its music.

 

Parade is based on true events; in 1913 in Georgia, a factory owner named Leo Frank was put on trial for the rape and murder of one of his young employees.  Frank was an outsider among his Atlanta neighbors, a wealthy Jewish man hailing from Brooklyn.  He was convicted of all charges on scant evidence, and when his sentence was commuted to life imprisonment, he was killed by a lynch mob.

 

If that doesn’t say Broadway musical, I don’t know what does.  I jest, of course, but it’s a powerful show, examining the intersection of anti-Semitism, racism, classism, and sectionalism at work in these events and the devastating effect it has.  To the people of Atlanta, Leo is the obvious suspect because he isn’t one of them.  He’s a northerner with no true loyalty to them, no ancestors who fought for “the old red hills of home.”  He follows a “foreign” religion with words and customs unknown to them.  Perhaps most damning, he’s a have among have-nots.  When the horrific violation and murder of a 13-year-old girl is thrown into that crucible, people are quick to embrace the vicious rumors circulating around him. 

 

What I really appreciate about this show is that it doesn’t paint Leo as a wronged saint.  Although the above social issues are important considerations, Leo’s manner and carriage also have a hand in the witch hunt.  He doesn’t like his neighbors any more than they like him; in social settings, he’s haughty, stiff, and standoffish.  He’s brusque and dismissive of his employees, and his own wife regards him as a cold fish and doesn’t know how to relate to him.  When even he’s arrested and things are looking bleak, his pride won’t allow her help or comfort.

 

This is important, because Leo can be innocent without being a likeable or admirable person.  Not everyone falsely accused of a crime is in actuality a paragon, not even those falsely accused due to bigotry.  However, that doesn’t mean his treatment or his fate is any less undeserved.  It makes for a richer and more complex tale.  And beyond Leo’s story, the show further challenges our reactions.  In “A Rumblin’ and a Rollin’,” the working-class black characters resent the outpouring of northern support for Leo when “There’s a black man swingin’ in ev’ry tree / And they don’t never pay attention.”

 

That last bit leads naturally into the music.  Goodness gracious, the music!  Simply gorgeous modern Broadway melodies infused with Southern flair and accompaniment.  The score is by turns soaring, haunting, and tragic, and the lyrics beautifully tell the story.  The characters lay themselves bare in song, revealing themselves in profound ways.  Another post might be in order; I’ve already rambled for a while, and the music here deserves further examination.

 

Warnings

 

Some swearing, violence, sexual references, and very dark subject matter.

More thoughts on Orange is the New Black

 

Season 2 of Orange is the New Black offers up plenty of twists, revelations, and conflicts to keep fans busy, but it also provides some nice narrative food for thought.  Today, I want to examine two characters and how race and culture are at play to create different results in similar scenarios.  (Again, a disclaimer:  I’ll be getting into season 2 stuff, especially flashback info from episodes 2 and 3.)

 

We found out last season that Suzanne (a.k.a. Crazy Eyes) is the daughter of two well-to-do-looking white parents, with the obvious implication that she was adopted.  Similarly, Taystee has a line in season 1 about having been a ward of the state until adolescence.  The new episodes give us more information about both of their backgrounds, paying special attention to their experience with adoption or lack thereof.

 

Taystee’s story is sad but undeniably familiar.  It’s unclear how old she was when she was first put up for adoption, but at some point she clearly aged out of a desirably adoptable age.  The smart, spirited girl grows up in group homes, being passed over for those younger, lighter-skinned, straighter-haired, and less forceful.  Her yearning for a “forever family” makes her a prime target for Vee, an opportunistic drug dealer.  Like Fagin before her, Vee preys on cast-off children, grooming them to work for her and offering them the parental figure they’re missing in their lives. 

 

Superficially, Suzanne’s situation appears far better than Taystee’s.  She’s adopted into a well-off, loving family at a young age, raised in suburban comfort.  However, Suzanne’s upbringing has left scars as well.  Her well-intentioned mother loves her dearly and fights tooth and nail for her happiness and inclusion, but Suzanne remains an outsider in her own community.  She grows up among white people (probably exclusively, or nearly so,) where no one quite understands her.  Even something as simple as her hair – when she’s young, her parents leave it large and wild, presumably because they don’t really know what to do with a black girl’s hair.  It’s not until her baby sister is born that it’s first styled, a treat from a black nurse who manages Suzanne with an ease her own mother never achieves.

 

So, in a way, Suzanne is looking for family, too.  Taystee makes friends in prison easily; there’s a common vernacular and cultural bond, and she fits in seamlessly.  Meanwhile, Suzanne struggles to find her place.  In Litchfield, prisoners live according to a “tribal” system in which they mainly associate with members of their own race.  Granted, we don’t know much about what her adult pre-prison life was like, but it seems Suzanne has had limited time socializing with other black people.  I wonder if she was excited when she first discovered a black community at Litchfield, if she finally felt like she belonged somewhere. 

 

But here, too, Suzanne is out of place.  With her Standard American English diction, privileged background, and love of Shakespeare and figure skating, she doesn’t have the shared experience that binds together many of the black inmates, and they tolerate her without really accepting her.  (Note:  Suzanne’s clear but unspecified mental health issues definitely have something to do with it as well – the others tend to treat her more like a “special” mascot than anything else.)  When Vee returns to Litchfield, it’s no wonder she quickly recognizes Suzanne as an easy mark.

House of Cards (2013-Present)

*Disclaimer: I wrote this review in 2014, before the allegations against Kevin Spacey came out. I remember it was a hard one for me to process initially, because I’d been a big fan of Spacey, and I had a kneejerk reaction to half-want to make excuses. It was a short-lived reaction, but that doesn’t make it better. Since then, I’ve taken more care to interrogate my responses to allegations against people I’ve liked. As for Spacey, he’s one that I’ve really been unable to watch at all since I came to terms with the allegations; I can’t see his face without thinking about what he did to Anthony Rapp and the others.*

 
 I took a bit of time off for Orange is the New Black’s second season, but I’m finally caught up on this other Netflix original series.  A dark, slick drama from the Breaking Bad or Mad Men school of antiheroism, House of Cards weaves a complicated tale of political scheming and Machiavellian ambition.  It’s a show that plants the seeds of overarching plots and draws them out slowly over multiple episode, but it also has Big! Shocking! Moments! that leave you staring goggle-eyed at the screen, wondering if you actually saw what you just saw (episode 1 of season 2, just sayin’.)

Frank Underwood has spent years in Congress as the Democratic Whip, but when the new president passes him over for the expected position of Secretary of State, he decides that enough is enough.  He undertakes a brutal long game in a quest for power and retribution, setting myriad fires through crafty manipulation.  He wages covert wars on numerous fronts – he drives legislation, woos journalists, blackmails colleagues, and, ultimately, casts a large and impressive shadow.   

I’ve heard comparisons to Richard III.  I’m planning on reading it later this summer – working my way through the Henry VI trilogy first – so I’ll probably have more to say on the matter then, but even now, “Shakespearean” is the word that often comes to mind when I think of this series.  The relationship between Frank and his wife Claire has shades of the Macbeths, though the comparison is imperfect; while Claire is ruthlessly determined and resourceful, she’s not the unscrupulous seducer whispering in the reluctant Frank’s ear.  Rather, they’re birds of a conniving feather, working together to see their aims come to fruition.

Othello is another play that bears mentioning.  Frank’s machinations are positively Iago-esque; it’s not enough for him to simply best, outwit, or even defeat someone.  He greatly prefers to lay clever traps that they wind up springing themselves, forever playing the spider as he lulls them into a false sense of security.  Just as Iago resents Othello for making Cassio a lieutenant over him, Frank is motivated in part by the slight he feels at the hands of the president.  Again, it’s not an exact parallel, because Iago doesn’t seem to have any particular goals beyond his revenge.  As much as Frank wants to scorch the earth beneath the president, he also has larger aspirations, and every movement is calculated to simultaneously drag someone down and pull himself up.

As Frank, Kevin Spacey delivers a masterful performance.  He’s commanding, sly, and chameleonic, one minute a chivalrous good-old Southern boy, the next a steely-eyed cutthroat.  He regularly addresses the viewer in asides to the camera – it’s especially effective when he merely gives us a look, offering a glimpse of his true intentions in the midst of a charade.  There are a number of other excellent performances in the show, including Robin Wright Penn’s icy Claire (Buttercup herself!)  It’s a fantastic, engrossing show that’s very good at leaving me wanting more:  the final shot of season 2 left me ruing the months-long wait for new episodes.

Warnings

Swearing, sexual content (including nudity and sex scenes,) drug use, drinking, smoking, scenes of violence, strong thematic elements, and incredibly shady behavior.  This isn’t one for the kids.