Poem: The Epiphany (2013)

 

The Epiphany

 

 

 

Once I staggered in unknown darkness,

Unaware of my unsight.

I strove ahead,

Heedless of the surrounding

Formless void.

I was a preliterate child who,

Dragging her finger

Across the words of a page,

Thinks she reads.

 

Then a sudden spark

Tore through my unused eyes

And illuminated all the hollow places

I hadn’t known rang with echoes.

It howled like a song

I’ve never heard

That was plainly written

In hopeful anticipation of me.

It streaked across my inner sky

With a comet-fire flash,

Littering my sunless self

With sacred detritus

As it continued on its blazing way.

 

I cast my gaze about

And tried to blink away my wonder;

So this is what it is

To see.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly: Parlor, Bedroom and Bath (1931)

 

Now that I’ve dipped my toes into Buster Keaton’s MGM years, I’m of course saddened and angered that they wasted his talent and intelligence so incredibly, but it’s not entirely tortuous.  I’m heartened to find that not everything is Free and Easy – as a fan of Buster’s, I’m interested in his work, but I don’t know how many Free and Easies I could take.  Going forward with the MGM talkies, I may hate review some, I may lump some with others into more general reviews, and some, like this one, I’ll divide into their good, bad, and ugly qualities.

 

Parlor, Bedroom and Bath, plot-wise, is a bit of a Prohibition-era Taming of the Shrew.  It concerns young Virginia, who doesn’t feel she can get married before Angelica, her strong-willed, extremely picky older sister, and the Virginia’s fiancée Jeff sets out to find Angelica a man.  Enter Reginald Irving, Buster’s character.  A timid sign tacker, Reggie comes into their lives when Jeff accidentally hits him with his car (Reggie, captivated by Angelica’s beauty, wanders doe-eyed into the street – oh, Buster) and he’s brought to the house to convalesce.  Angelica takes it upon herself to look after Reggie, and Jeff tries to stoke the fire by giving Reggie a reputation as a notorious womanizer – why that appeals to Angelica, I don’t know, but she eats it up.  Schemes, misunderstandings, and naughty-for-the-30s shenanigans ensue.

 

The Good – For a talkie, this film has tons of physical comedy.  Buster gets to do some fine tumbling, there are a few good chase scenes, and there’s a sequence of Reggie learning and then practicing the art of seduction that’s an absolute scream.  The last item might seem out of place in the same sentence as tumbles and chase scenes, but it’s in the right spot, trust me.  The “seduction” scene is incredibly physical and athletic (no, not like that,) and Buster is hysterical in it.  He’s especially good with Charlotte Greenwood, who plays a woman enlisted to help Reggie learn the ropes.  Beyond that, the movie has a lot of callbacks to Buster’s silent classics that, while not as funny as the originals, are lovely.  The train scene from One Week is repeated (albeit with a car instead of a house,) and one shot is a pale-but-delightful echo of the standing-on-shoulders sequence from Neighbors.  Finally, if you’re interested in Buster’s real life, this film is neat in that it was largely shot at the Italian Villa, his gorgeous Beverly Hills mansion.

 

The Bad – Reggie isn’t a very strong character; while not as bad as Elmer in Free and Easy, he’s easily pushed around and often at the whims and machinations of others.  Save for a few moments, he doesn’t cause much of the action to happen.  Rather, the action happens to him, and he’s just sort of along for the ride, stumbling along as best as he can.  Another sticking point is that the movie has a somewhat schizophrenic tone.  As I said, the physical comedy is terrific, but the film seems to shift between near-silent visual sequences and stretches of talk-talk-talk joke dialogue.  Not that wordy humor can’t be funny (love me some Fry & Laurie,) but the mix doesn’t feel organic.  The two types of comedy aren’t integrated well – it’s like the movie has a “joke switch” that it flips on and off at random.

 

The Ugly – One word:  stupid.  There’s a long, painful scene of Jeff instructing Reggie how to woo a woman, and as Reggie takes notes, we discover that he can’t spell, among other things, the word “coat.”  That happens.  And it’s supposed to be funny, but it’s just ugly.  (Especially since, though Buster was perfectly literate and a smart cookie with a flair for engineering, he had no formal education and was always self-conscious about it.  Way to be jerks, MGM.)

Doctor Who: Series 8, Episode 6 – “The Caretaker” (2014)

 

This episode totally and completely did not work for me – honestly, if I were making a list of worst Who stories, this one would probably be on it.  It doubles down on everything that’s been bugging me this season, it acts like having to show all this boring adventures-in-time-and-space stuff is an irritating chore, and after a couple episodes that seem to get the Doctor pretty right, he’s insufferable and dickish here. 

 

There’s something non-terrestrial and deadly lurking near Coal Hill School, so the Doctor goes undercover to investigate, posing as the school’s temporary caretaker.  Since Clara has been running herself ragged trying to balance her TARDIS life with her home life (particularly the dating-Danny part of it,) everything builds to an inevitable head when her two very different worlds come face-to-face with another.  A tag-team effort by Moffat and Gareth Roberts, this should have been in a similar vein as Roberts’ “The Lodger” and “Closing Time,” a.k.a. the Craig episodes.  “The Doctor, undercover, integrates himself into a 21^st-century Earth setting and badly tries to pass himself off as a human” fits seamlessly with those stories, but “The Caretaker” has none of the charm, fun, or heart of those earlier Roberts venture.  In fact, it hardly seems to have any interest in showing the undercover Doctor-plot, preferring to focus on Clara’s horrified reaction to having the Doctor in her workplace, meeting Danny, and doing goodness-knows-what while she frets worries about Danny discovering the secret of her other life.

 

The only bits from the episode that I really enjoy are a few moments that do focus on the Doctor’s interactions at the school.  There’s an amusing scene of him trying to correct something Clara tells her class about Jane Austen, and he has a couple of nice scenes with a flippant-but-curious “problem” student.  Like with “Into the Dalek,” I’m inclined to give Roberts the credit for these – the rest of the episode feels like an utter waste of his talents.

 

It’s not that I’m looking to blame Moffat for the things I didn’t like.  It’s just that my problems with the episode are so Moffaty that I can’t picture anyone else having written them.  Here, we have haphazard plotting, character consistency sacrificed for the sake of pithy lines, the Doctor criticizing Clara’s appearance, and the same jokes repeated over and over.  The Doctor comes off particularly bad in this episode.  He’s rude and ineffectual, and his prejudice against soldiers (and apparent inability to even process the idea that a former soldier could teach math rather than PE) goes way overboard.  It’s bad, Ten-telling-Jack-he’s-“wrong”-in-“Utopia” bad.  I don’t understand how anyone could think this is a Doctor people would want to travel with.  It’s seriously makes me feel sorry for Peter Capaldi, to get every Whovian’s dream come true and actually get to be the Doctor, and then to be saddled with such sorry writing. 

 

I don’t need the Doctor to be romantic or adorkable or young-looking.  I don’t need the Doctor to be infallible.  I actually like the idea of a more abrasive Doctor who’s removed in an alien way.  But when I see him, there really should be a sense that he’s bigger, that he walks in eternity and protects worlds and still savors the wonders of the universe.  His companions should grow as people during their time with him, and watching this show should make me want to do something outlandish and marvelous.  I know PC can play that, and I’ve seen enough glimpses that I know the show can portray that with Twelve, but episodes like this make me feel like the series is actively fighting against it, and I don’t know why it’s squandering so much potential.

Favorite Characters: Rumpelstiltskin (Once Upon a Time)

 

Yes, I know the show spells it “ple,” not “pel,” but what can I say – I like the traditional spelling.  At any rate, Rumpelstiltskin is a stellar character.  Unlike Emma or Snow, while he occasionally aligns with the good guys and flirts with redemption, he’s more villain than anything else. 

 

One thing I like about Rumpel is his utter devotion to the long game.  In flashbacks, his fingers are in countless pots, showing the myriad ways in which he orchestrates Regina’s casting of the curse.  At the heart of it is his desire to correct a mistake and recover what’s been lost to him – a sympathetic motivation perhaps, but it becomes an obsession that spans centuries and ruins lives.  All across the Enchanted Forest, he carefully nudges others into place, sometimes subtly, sometimes overtly.  Random, seemingly out-of-character actions in one episode become mammoth dozens of episodes later.  Seeing how he uses the entire realm as his personal house of cards is endlessly entertaining and shows he has brains and patience to go with his magic.

 

Along with that is his generally cavalier attitude toward his villain status.  He doesn’t spend a lot of time agonizing over how people see him.  He’s embraced his identity as the Dark One, the monster, the demented dealmaker – in fact, he’s thrown more when someone views him like a person – and this avoids much of the woobifying that drags down many villains.  Rather, he regards his evil actions as utilitarian means to far-off ends or treats them like a twisted game.  It’s an intriguing, unflinching approach that works well.

 

It’s not all “mwa ha ha,” though, and like I said, the show sometimes offers more sympathetic glimpses of Rumpel, chiefly in his love for the few important people in his life.  Yet, it usually avoids suggesting that love trumps any terrible things he does.  Additionally, his consuming need for power (his magic, yes, but also just a need for control) constantly damages these relationships he cares about, but he continues to choose power.  I like seeing how his choices have cost him, and I hope the show keeps that up.  (His romantic relationship – I won’t say with whom, for spoilers’ sake – is hugely problematic and unsettling, though, and one major area where he consistently remains unpunished.  Hopefully, he’s heading toward a reckoning in season four.)

 

Since his nefariousness tends to be goal-oriented and he doesn’t have any big projects in the pipeline, a large-scale redemption arc may be coming.  Though the outwardly-evil Rumpel is definitely the most fun to watch, I’m not oppose to the idea.  Yet, given the show’s track record with Regina, I’m apprehensive.  Redemption for villains has to be handled so carefully, or you get Regina complaining that people don’t trust her and don’t applaud her efforts to change, and me saying, “Shut up – you murdered people.”  If the writers are looking to redeem Rumpel, it’ll require a steady hand and probably an ultimate choice of good/love/something over power.

 

Also, the acting is impeccable.  Rumpel in his flashback imp form is scenery-chewing perfection.  An odd compliment perhaps, but with over-the-top acting, there’s a thin sliver of audaciousness that plays, not as hammy, but as fantastically eye-catching, and Robert Carlyle’s performance hits it every time.  I love his weird, affected voice and the playful way he delivers horrific lines.  I love his flourishy, theatrical gestures, simultaneously funny and creepy.  I love his psychotic little giggle when his pieces fall into place and he’s the only one to see it.  Gleeful, bedeviled, or enraged, he’s held my attention from his first moment onscreen.

Favorite Characters: Snow White (Once Upon a Time)

 

Of the three characters I’m writing about this week (why only three?  Because nothing interrupts the Sunday Who review,) Snow White has received the shortest end of the stick.  Despite a fabulous start, the writing for Snow has floundered since the middle of season 2; a lot of her character’s coolness has been sacrificed, first for the sake of Regina’s ongoing redemption arc and later for an across-the-board IQ reduction for many of the heroes in order to prolong the central villain story at the tail end of season 3.  So in terms of characterization, the latter episodes have squandered a lot of what made me love her, but since those original qualities are excellent enough that I’ve mentioned Snow every time I’ve written about this show, today’s post celebrates all that I like about her.

 

I’ve already said that this Snow White does not resemble the baby-voiced wilting flower of the Disney movie.  She has a steep learning curve when she’s on the run after the unfortunate stepmother-tries-to-have-her-heart-cut-out incident, but she quickly builds the skills she needs to survive.  Soon, she’s climbing trees and shooting arrows like a pro, breaking into castles for daring rescue missions, and holding her own against unsavory trolls.  She’s a woman with an incredibly powerful adversary (both magically and politically,) and she’s still standing:  not bad.

 

And, like my favorite Strong Women, she does more than kick butt and take names.  She’s needed to have tremendous emotional strength to deal with all the crap she’s been through, she believes in True Love and the ultimate victory of good over evil, and she fights fiercest for the people she loves.  With Charming at her side, she’s been the benevolent ruler of a kingdom, and even when pursued by a vindictive sorceress, she takes time to make friends and help others.  (I realize that sounds super-Disney, and it is, but I actually like that about her.  Though I’m all for darker characters like Walter White or Frank Underwood, it’s nice sometimes to see good people just trying to do the right thing.)

 

The love story between Snow and Charming is emblematic of why I love her.  In the movie, Snow White idles in a walled garden, singing “One Day My Prince Will Come,” and sure enough, her prince catches sight of her and falls head over heels.  To the best of my memory, they never actually speak, and the next time he sees her, she’s in a coffin and he saves his dead girl whose name he quite possibly doesn’t know with a well-planted True Love’s Kiss.  By contrast, while Snow and Charming are immediately taken with each other in the show, it’s a fascination born out of the spark of their personalities, and over the course of an adventure, they gradually fall for each other.  True Love develops as they get to know one another – what they’re about, what struggles they’ve had, what they can do.  Their connection leaps off the screen, and it’s the best kind of fairytale, because they love each other rather than simply each other’s faces.

 

And yes, she eats the apple, she needs True Love’s Kiss to wake her, and Charming comes riding to the rescue.  But even when she’s a victim, she retains her strength of character, and she’s more than just a prop in her own story.  Plus, Charming needs to be rescued sometimes, too, and she’s happy to oblige.  More than that, she fights, vanquishes, and rules alongside him, taking more of the lead if anything.  After my years-long hatred of the simpering Disney princess, I was flabbergasted by this superb, vibrant character, and it’s disappointed see how she’s paled over the years.  Here’s hoping the new season returns her to the fantastic character she can be.

Favorite Characters: Emma Swan (Once Upon a Time)

 

Since the new season of Once Upon a Time starts this weekend, I thought I’d spend the next few posts on a few of my favorite characters from the show.  I get that the show isn’t perfect, a fact often made stunningly clear by improbable twists, fumbled redemption arcs for the baddies, and a preference for Big!  Shocking!  Moments! over thoughtful storytelling.  Still, I appreciate its creative ambition, and when it’s on, it’s really on.  The series is home to some wonderfully interesting characters who keep me coming back when the writing is questionable.

 

Although today’s character is technically from the Enchanted Forest, she’s not a beloved fairytale figure with built-in story beats.  Rather, she’s our rather splendid, cynical eyes into the show’s world of stories and magic.  Utterly badass bail bondsperson Emma Swan has spent 28 years relying only on herself, jumping between group homes before going off the grid, getting in trouble, and then pulling herself up.  She comes honestly by her job, finding people, because she’s been searching for her parents since she was young.  Unfortunately, when your parents are Snow White and Prince Charming, and they sent you to this world as a baby through a magic wardrobe (to protect you from an evil curse, duh,) there’s not so much of a paper trail.

 

So there’s Emma when we meet her.  Awesome, hardened, clever, BAMF, lonely and pretending not to be, and then, all of the sudden, she’s accosted by an adorable moppet from a magically-guarded small town, claiming she’s the only one who can save these trapped fairytale characters from the curse her loving parents helped her escape.  She doesn’t believe him; how could she?  But she’s softer-hearted than she lets on, and she can’t really let a kid ride the bus from Boston to Maine by himself, so she drives him back to his impossible village of Storybrooke.  And once she has her foot in the door, her spidey senses tingle enough to make her stick around.

 

I know I’ve only been talking about the pilot so far, but it really gives you ample reason to love Emma.  From her savvy, cool-as-a-cucumber collection of a bail jumper to the compassion and concern for young Henry that keeps her in Storybrooke, she’s every inch the amazing but flawed hero.  She’s tough and gutsy, she’s perceptive, and almost immediately, in her own guarded way, she starts to care deeply about Henry and his welfare.  Plus, she’s stubborn, jaded, and sometimes foolhardy in her boldness, and she has trouble believing that anyone would believe in her.  Her emotional damage resonates from her childhood to her present, and it’s both stymied her and made her stronger.  Is it any wonder I was a goner?

 

Because I can’t write up a TV protagonist based entirely on one episode and should touch on the rest of the series, the show benefits greatly from having her as a viewpoint character.  The tug and pull of her “real world” pragmatism against her fantastical destiny makes for great drama (and boy, does Jennifer Morrison bring it – I’ve always been lukewarm on her, but she’s nothing but stellar here,) and you can always count on her for incredulous commentary to let the air of the tires when the fairytale stuff gets too sparkly for its own good.  As the show goes on, I love watching her find her footing in this incredible new world, bring her practical skills and insights to magical crises, and slowly begin to let her walls down with the family she’s never had.  Apart from just being fantastic, I think Emma is instrumental to grounding the show and keeping it from being mere fairytale fanfic.  Despite all the swords and dragons and poisoned apples, it’s really her story.  And it’s a fine one.

Top Five Childhood Rereads

Great books are great books, period.  I became a voracious reader at an early age, taking eager trips to the library and literally checking out as many books as I could carry.  Today, many of the novels and series I consumed are fond pieces of nostalgia, but some are every bit as enjoyable to read now as they were when I was 10, 11, or 12.  Here are five books I still love.  (Note: I didn’t start A Series of Unfortunate Events until high school, so it’s beyond the range of this post.)

 

 

The Giver by Lois Lowry (1993)

 

Cards on the table – I couldn’t bring myself to see the movie in theaters.  The book is too important to me, and the film looks too wrong.  Maybe someday…  This was one of my first dystopian novels, and I was pulled entirely into its world.  I love Jonas’s messy, complicated journey, his gradual awakening to the possibilities of the extremes his gray society has pared away.  The message, that colors and snow and love are worth pain and ugliness, is gorgeous.

 

 

Belle Prater’s Boy by Ruth White (1996)

 

This was assigned reading in 6^th grade, but I’ve read it on my own numerous times since then (don’t bother with the sequel, though – it’s not bad, it’s just not masterful.)  Gypsy and Woodrow are such rich characters, and I adore every bit of their friendship, from the jokes to the secrets to the stories.  The story of Woodrow’s missing mother and his desire to find her fascinates me, and I like the thoughtful way the book deals with Gypsy’s feelings about her beauty.

 

 

Tangerine by Edward Bloor (1997)

 

I bought this one through a book order on a whim, and I haven’t come across anything else quite like it.  The eerie atmosphere of the town is terrific, and the darkness within Erik is startling.  Beyond that, the book is stuffed with vibrant, memorable characters and excellent dialogue.  It’s also one of the most thoughtfully diverse books I read as a kid – Paul, the protagonist, is disabled, and the multiple characters of color feel informed but not defined by their race.

 

 

A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle (1962)

 

So I love the entire Time Quartet, but I picked this one because my memories of first reading it are still so vivid.  It’s unapologetically smart and almost audaciously inventive, fastidiously detailed and beautifully written.  The fantasy shines, the themes are striking, and the characters are odd, rough, and wonderful.  Meg is absolutely a character I needed at that age, and Charles Wallace remains the most compellingly-written child genius I’ve ever encountered in fiction.

 

 

Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson (1977)

 

(I just realize four of my top five are by female authors.  Awesome!)  5^th-grade reading this time.  Like Gypsy and Woodrow, Jess and Leslie’s relationship is spectacular.  I’m captivated by their time together, and of course the world they create.  In a dingy nowhere town, amidst bullies, poverty, and distant fathers, they bring the impossible to life.  What could be better than that?

Relationship Spotlight: Katniss Everdeen & Finnick Odair (The Hunger Games)

 

(It's surprisingly hard to find a picture of these two besides the production shot

of the so-called "sugar-cube scene" from Catching Fire - oh, shippers....)

 

Maybe this is my aceness coming through, but when it comes to The Hunger Games, I’m not particularly invested in the so-called Team Peeta or Team Gale.  Mostly, I just wish both guys would realize Katniss has a lot on her plate trying to stay alive and overthrow oppressive regimes, and she really doesn’t need them making her feel like a shrew for not falling into their loving arms.  While I enjoy her fine with either boy, I greatly prefer Katniss’s interactions with loads of other characters.  This one isn’t necessarily my favorite (it’s hard to beat the warm fuzziness of Katniss and Cinna,) it’s pretty rich and infinitely readable.  Note – I can’t even start to explain these two without spoiling the central plot of Catching Fire, but I’ll avoid major details from Mockingjay.

 

When they first encounter one another during the lead-up to the Quarter Quell, Katniss and Finnick both misjudge each other.  She thinks he’s a shallow, slutty product of the Capitol, trading sexual favors to vapid citizens for pretty much anything he wants.  He in turn thinks her star-crossed-lovers bit with Peeta in the last Games was nothing but a stunt and doesn’t realize the complexity of her feelings.  Their early associations in the Quell are excellent to read, because they’re thrown into an alliance despite a near-total lack of trust.  Through a good chunk of their first day in the Arena, Katniss is trying to figure out when and where to murder him, and Finnick casually holds his trident in an attack stance while talking to her.  There’s electricity in the air as they circle each other while making a show of playing nice.

 

Over the course of the Quell, however, they start to edge toward the oddly profound comradeship that ultimately grows between them.  With Katniss’s small size and Finnick’s much-talked-of pretty face, they’re both easy to underestimate in the Arena, but they prove themselves to one another in strength, intellect, and valor.  And beyond this grudging respect for one another’s abilities, they begin to know each other.  Finnick isn’t the promiscuous heartbreaker he purports to be, and Katniss isn’t the girl who bats her eyelashes at Peeta for the cameras’ benefit.  Finnick starts to come around sooner than Katniss, of course.  She’s practically allergic to trust, and even as she slowly loosens up, she never fully lets her guard down; at the first hint of uncertainty, she’s ready to believe the worst of him.

 

Both, though, are put through the ringer, and it’s when each is brought low that they really come together.  In Mockingjay, broken by the events of the previous book, they’re one another’s unstable shoulder on which to lean.  They grope unsteadily through extreme circumstances at one another’s side, each pushing through the heavy weight of their own despair and panic to provide what small comfort they can to the other.  Some make untrue assumptions about their relationship, mistaking their closeness for heat, but these people don’t get it.  Because they can’t; in this book, Katniss and Finnick are victims of the same cruel mind game, and only someone experiencing the same torture can offer any understanding.

 

In this way, through this new, painful kinship, they really and truly become friends and allies.  They muddle through their shared trauma together, cling to, lose, and regain hope together, fight together, and strategize together with mutual respect and solidarity.  This affinity between them is lovely, and it’s made so much more interesting by the long journey both of them take to reach it.

The General (1926)

 

The General is the big Buster Keaton movie.  While the iconic shot from Steamboat Bill Jr. is his most famous, this film is his best-known and most well-regarded overall.  The first time I saw it, I wasn’t quite sure why, since it didn’t strike me as nearly as funny as much of Buster’s work.  Like Our Hospitality, though, it has a softer humor that becomes more evident on rewatch, and regardless, it’s an excellent movie that makes incredible achievements for its time.

 

Inspired by a true story, The General is an ambitious Civil War comedy (probably not too many of those around.)  Buster’s character Johnnie Gray is an engineer with two loves:  his girl Annabelle and his locomotive the General.  When war breaks out and Johnnie is turned down by the Confederate army – he’s more useful to them as an engineer, but they don’t actually tell him that, so he’s left wondering why the army won’t take him – Annabelle assumes he simply refused to join up and wants nothing to do with such a coward.

 

Things go from bad to worse when a group of Union soldiers make off with the General in a plan to sabotage Southern rail and telegraph lines.  Having lost his girl, Johnnie isn’t about to lose his train, too, and he sets out to recover it.  If, along the way, he happens to thwart the North’s plan, save Georgia, become a war hero, and rescue Annabelle (come on – like a bunch of Northern soldiers aren’t going to kidnap Buster’s girl,) even better.

 

For a movie that’s about 80% chase scenes (with Johnnie taking turns pursuing and being pursued,) it keeps things fresh with all manner of good train gags.  From Johnnie’s attempt to singlehandedly follow a train with a handcart to tricky business with shifting tracks to the inevitable car detachment with one of Buster’s feet on each car, there’s plenty to entertain.  From the way Buster climbs and runs around all over the various trains in the film, you’d think it was the only way he traveled.  Many of the stunts here are less acrobatic than what we see in his other films, but he makes up for it with the danger of performing them on a moving train.  That Buster, always going the extra mile.

 

But if you know anything about this movie, then you know why it’s the big Buster Keaton film:  it’s the one with that scene.  Buster Keaton’s The General, a.k.a. Buster Sends a Real Locomotive Over a Real Cliff After Really Setting the Bridge on Fire.  It’s the single most expensive shot of the entire silent film era.  The reactions from the actors who see the train go over are genuine, because Buster didn’t tell them what was going to happen (brave move, since he obviously wouldn’t be able to do any retakes.)  In a way, it’s a great image to sum up Buster as a filmmaker.  He had a superb imagination and was wonderfully inventive and mechanically-minded enough to realize his vision.  He did things no one else did, and first and foremost, he was amazingly bold. 

 

Warnings

 

Slapstick violence, mild war scenes, and a bit of unfortunate sexist humor.

Doctor Who: Series 8, Episode 5 – “Time Heist” (2014)

 

For me, this episode is like a sigh of relief.  It’s not mind-blowing or anything, but it really feels like Who, and with the exception of some untidy plotting and one niggling irritant (more on that later,) I can sit back and enjoy it rather than feel like a grumpy killjoy of a Whovian.  This fast, fun romp is probably my favorite of the season so far.

 

The Doctor, Clara, technologically-augmented human Psi, and shape-shifting mutant-human Saibra find themselves unwanted guests in the most secure bank in the universe with their recent memories wiped and a distorted voice on a screen telling them they’ve agreed to rob it.  As they try to follow their scant, piece-meal instructions and figure out how they ended up here, they’re hunted by the Teller, a psychic alien that can hear guilt and turn brains into soup.

 

The central mystery is convoluted but enjoyable, packed with action and quick thinking.  What’s more, it resolves in a fairly satisfying way.  The Teller is good and creepy, and the one-off characters are excellent.  Both Psi and Saibra are clever, brave, and entertaining to watch, and hints of pathos flesh them out nicely.  Saibra, who takes on the appearance of anyone she touches, admits the loneliness of her impressive gift, and while Psi’s augmented mind can interface with any computer, he’s erased certain memories from his hard drive that he yearns to recover.  I really like seeing them interact with the Doctor and Clara, gradually learning to trust and assist each other.

 

Because it seems I always end these episode reviews with a gripe, I’m moving my only major complaint here so I can end on a higher note.  It’s so weird to me that Clara is such a part-time companion.  It was sort of understandable at the end of Amy and Rory’s run, because they traveled with the Doctor for a long time and were at the point where they were getting ready to move on.  But Clara, it seems, has always been an occasional day-tripper, popping off for a quick jaunt across time and space when she’s not too busy with work or her social life.  This episode opens with the Doctor practically begging Clara to go on any one of countless fantastical excursions with him and her basically saying, “No thanks, got a date, catch you later.”  It makes Clara feel a lot less relatable for me, because who does that?  What has the entire universe at their fingertips but only wants to see it when it fits into their schedule?

 

Twelve feels well and truly Doctory here, a fine blend of perceptive, funny, and inquisitive while maintaining his sharpness and alien detachment.  And even better, he gets to be effective.  Far too often this season, it seems the Doctor hasn’t been terribly involved in solving the mysteries or saving the day, and I’m not sure why that is (sure seems like a strange way to get the audience invested in a new Doctor!)  In this episode, though, his tactical skills and knowhow back up his take-charge attitude, and he has a lot of cheer-worthy moments.  All I can say is, “Thank goodness!”  It’s the Doctor’s show, after all, and regeneration or no regeneration, I still want him to be the mad and brilliant Time Lord we all love.  With this episode, I’m pleased to report that I see it.

 

Warnings

 

The Teller’s “feasting” on people’s minds is incredibly gross.

Gender in Once Upon a Time

 

Early in Once Upon a Time’s second season, there’s a multi-episode Enchanted Forest subplot that involves four people on a quest.  As I was watching this arc play out, I had to stop for a moment at marvel that all four of these characters are women.  How often on non-Sex and the City shows do you even see four female characters together at once, let alone making them all heroes?

 

Now, I’m not saying that Once Upon a Time is without gender problems.  The female villains have a greater tendency than their male counterparts to be spurred on by petty motivations, and some of the Storybrooke versions of the season 1 women are pretty painful.  (I realize it’s intentional – since the curse was designed as Regina’s revenge against Snow, it makes sense that, under the curse, the tough and capable Snow becomes the rather wan and milquetoast Mary Margaret – but it still bugs.)  Nevertheless, from a gender perspective, this show does a tremendous amount right.

 

For starters, there are scads of strong women, and the strength of each is characterized differently.  The basically-just-men-with-boobs Strong Women archetypes are avoided, and we instead get a fantastic mix of women who bring different skills to the table and present their gender in different ways.  Not all of them have to kick butt, those who like to wear flowy dresses aren’t in any way diminished by their femininity, and being girlfriends, wives, or mothers don’t take away their qualities as individuals or make them any less strong.

 

I already mentioned Snow, who, in addition to being an excellent fighter, exudes indefatigable warmth and strength of character (I get that the writers have let her drift from what she was in season 1, but I’m talking about all of these characters at their best.)  Red has had to face up to incredible darkness within herself and has learned to use it to help her friends.  Mulan is an undaunted warrior who uses brusqueness to mask her vulnerability.  Belle attacks problems by doing research and searching for hidden answers.  Ariel crosses worlds to find the human she loves.  Aurora stands up to a sorceress against whom she’s clearly unmatched, because she refuses to be made a pawn.  And from our world, Emma is guarded and damaged but perceptive, smart, and brave. 

 

It really reminds me how excellent most of the Disney princesses are.  There’s a tendency to think of Tangled, Frozen, or Brave as a new era of strong princesses that young girls can look up to, but the girls in those movies don’t spring from nowhere.  Disney has a long list of female characters who use their minds, their determination, and their bravery to accomplish their goals.  Once Upon a Time does well to draw from these characters, and it does a fabulous job building up those like Snow, whose source material do them no favors.

 

And generally, the show does a fine job gender-wise with their male characters as well.  Heroes like Charming and gradually-reforming black hats like Hook are allowed to be emotional and strong, and they recognize that their emotions don’t make them weak.  Charming is also one of several devoted, involved fathers on the show, and the men who love these heroic women don’t feel their masculinity threatened by their wives’, friends’, daughters’, or girlfriends’ awesomeness.  Sad as it is to say so, that’s incredibly refreshing.

Thor (2011, PG-13)

Imperfect as this film is, I think it’s my favorite of the pre-Avengers movies.  I know that the tone is sometimes jarringly uneven, the third-act fight isn’t anything to write home about, and, as far as love interests go, Jane can’t touch Pepper or the incredible Peggy, but I’m okay with it.  I’ve talked before about Thor’s growth in this film, and that’s where this story really succeeds – weaving the ripe-for-drama tapestry of Thor’s world, his friends, and his family.  

 

It isn’t the typical superhero movie, because Thor isn’t a superhero.  He’s an alien, but not like any of the assorted species we meet in Guardians of the Galaxy.  Thor is from Asgard, a warrior culture where magic and science are the same force, primitive societies worshipped his people as gods, and wormhole is the preferred mode of travel.  He’s the eldest son of a king, and as such, his film tells a lofty story full of war, betrayal, ascendance, duty, and exile.  It’s great to watch him mature from a brash, arrogant prince hungry for war into a future king sworn to protect those weaker than him.

 

One of the film’s biggest assets is of course Thor’s relationship with his brother Loki, the most memorable Marvel baddie to date, and they’re at their best here.  Loki rises as Thor falls and vice versa, and despite everything that goes down, it’s obvious that Thor still loves Loki.  This, by the way, helps Loki’s continued existence in the franchise make sense beyond his character’s popularity.  I get why Thor is so conflicted about going up against Loki and never stops wanting to believe there may be a shred of good in him.  (Side note:  as much as he resents Thor, a manipulative trickster like Loki must love having Thor for a brother.  He’s so ruled by his emotions – easy to read, easier to exploit.)

 

Speaking of the silver-tongued one, it’s no secret that Loki is a stellar villain.  His intricate manipulations are hugely entertaining to watch, and he makes an especially dangerous adversary for Thor, who, again, is susceptible to Loki’s tricks and is much more at home wailing on a foe than outsmarting them.  This forces Thor to stretch and adapt, never a bad thing in my book.

 

And hey, maybe it’s a bit corny, but I get a kick out of the fish-out-of-water comedy during Thor’s time on Earth.  Thor approaches his new surroundings with an amusing mix of defiance (ranting about his mightiness just before getting tazed,) rolling with the punches (demanding sustenance for his new “mortal form,”) and trying to fit square pegs into round Asgardian holes (trying to procure a horse from the pet store.)  Given all the high drama going on with his family, it’s a nice way to defuse the tension now and again.

 

The acting is just fantastic.  Marvel couldn’t have found anyone better than Chris Hemsworth or Tom Hiddleston.  Hemsworth brings just the right combination of charisma, nobility, and fun to Thor, and Hiddleston is perfect as the scheming, tormented Loki.  Jane is a rather thin character, but Natalie Portman brings what she can to the role, and both her sidekicks and Thor’s are engaging and well-played.

 

Warnings

 

Comic book violence, some drinking, and a little swearing.

Relationship Spotlight: Troy Barnes & Abed Nadir (Community)

 

This friendship is such a no-brainer, it’s taken me this long to get around to it.  Like so many Community fans, I was won over by these two during their Spanish rap in the show’s second episode.  After that scene, they only grow in awesomeness and awwwsomeness (“homing pigeon” still makes me think of them,) earning a well-deserved claim to one of my favorite TV friendships of all time.

 

The basic building blocks of the Troy-Abed friendship is not unlike many memorable sitcom friendships between men; Abed is geeky and neurotic while Troy is much more obviously cool.  This is the same general template from which J.D. and Turk from Scrubs, Cory and Shawn from Boy Meets World, and Chandler and Joey from Friends, among others, are cut.  As with the other examples, Abed is somewhat more prominent a character than Troy, which makes sense.  A lot of TV writers and, let’s face, a large portion of many fandoms, probably identify more with the geeky, neurotic character than the cool one (plus, such characters are easier to write conflict for.)

 

Troy and Abed take a different tack, though.  While all these relationships place the primary focus on the geekier characters, with most of them, there’s a sense that the cooler character is there partially to show him the ropes – to coach him on talking to women, being more masculine, fitting in with the “guys,” etc.  Though it’s obvious that both care deeply about each other, there’s this slight power imbalance, this idea that the geekier character should be grateful to the cooler character for being friends with him.  But with Troy and Abed, Abed is the clear instigator in almost everything they do.  He spearheads a lot of their silly and/or nerdy pursuits, like Kickpuncher marathons or extended sessions in the Dreamatorium.  Troy frequently defers to Abed – when the study group is being wooed by Greendale’s glee club coach in season 3, Troy even tells Abed, “You know I’d do anything you did” – and, after some reluctance in the early episodes, begins to embrace his own geeky side.

 

And so, they have fun.  They enjoy being weird and goofy, building forts, making costumes, and watching Inspector Spacetime.  They’re not without drama, most noticeably in season 3 when Abed stops being his and Troy’s natural leader and starts dictating what they do, but for the most part, they’re a blast.  They’re also entirely in each other’s corner.  Troy looks out for Abed when his aspie-ish tendencies are causing him distress, and to the extent that Abed expresses his feelings, he expresses them for Troy.

 

Something else that I really like about Troy and Abed is that the show usually avoids the bromance jokes that are often so plentiful in guy-guy sitcom friendships.  They’re incredibly, at times almost ludicrously, close, but the show doesn’t frame it from a “ha, ha, they’re acting like a couple!” way.  I’m not a fan of excessive bromance jokes, partially because it suggests that male intimacy is inherently hilarious, and partially because there are already enough romances on television, and there’s no reason to use romance tropes to convey friendship.  So, I really appreciate that Troy and Abed’s relationship is tight and incredibly important to both of them while still being written distinctly as a friendship.