Poem: A Memory (2012)

A tragic fable.

*          *          *

A Memory

I still recall

The day she came to lie beneath me.

I pretended not to notice

The ocean waves

The wind made of her long, loose hair;

I could see she wasn’t there for me.

Firm-planted, I stared at the sky.

It wasn’t until I heard the laments

Rip-tiding within her

That I cast my gaze down

To where she muffled her sadness into the earth.

I made no sign;

I simply stood,

A stock-still sentinel,

That she might avail herself

Of my quiet protection.

She touched me as she rose,

Her scrabbling fingers finding the crags

In my rough and wizened skin.

I confess that in my deep-rooted places,

I curled with excitement and fear

At her soft attentions.

Lonely things feel such a thrill at being touched.

Without even giving her name,

She grappled me,

Clutching and grasping,

Gasping as her sobs broke over

Her poorly-constructed levies.

Did she know that already,

I could have lived

On her glance?

In one of my outstretched arms,

I rocked her,

Like the soft back-and-forth

Of a pond post-storm.

She clung to me,

And I naively planned

A forever of holding her.

She took in long, unconfident breaths

As the raging current slowed within her;

She no longer watered me.

I shivered

With a peaceful, whispering rustle

And supposed that this

Was how we’d go on.

I didn’t see her face.

Though I would keep her from stumbling,

I didn’t know she’d let herself fall.

The knot she tied with her tear-wet fingers

Seized me in a taut embrace,

And the ground

Seemed to wash out beneath me

As her grip receded

And she cascaded down

With a sickening wrench.

Even then,

With the life wrung from her,

She held fast to me still.

She rippled in the breeze

On the end of the death cord

That bound me to her.

I folded inside myself

And tried not to wither.

She’s long gone now,

But cut me open

And you’ll see the atrophied rings

That were choked

By her embrace.

The Dark Knight Rises (2012, PG-13)

The Dark Knight Rises really hammers home how much the trilogy is, in fact, a trilogy.  It’s not a series that just happens to have three films in it.  Viewed together, the story they tell of Batman is a self-contained one, and the final installment is most definitely an ending.  (Some basic premise spoilers.)

We open on a Gotham that, in recent years, has been policed by the actual police force rather than the caped crusader.  The events of the last film have served a twofold purpose:  1) they’ve enabled stronger legislation to give Gordon and other cops a fighting chance at cleaning up the streets, and 2) they’ve shaken Bruce to the point that he’s hung up the cowl.  But as the saying goes, just when he thinks he’s out, he’s pulled back by the arrival of Bane, a mysterious figure with immense power, warped ideals, and tangential connections with Bruce’s old friends/adversaries the League of Shadows.  As he breaks out the old Batmobile again and starts tentatively getting back in the game, he tests the waters of a few potential allies – namely, a passionate young cop, a determined philanthropist, and a clever cat burglar who may have a greater propensity for good than she realizes.

As always, the cast is to die for.  Christian Bale does a marvelous job as a rustier, more guarded, banged-up Batman.  As for the newcomers, Tom Hardy is a great Bane, a sort of hulking comic-book Robespierre (and all but unrecognizable – I know he’s got the mask and everything, but still.)  Anne Hathaway brings a neat mix of self-interest, calculating misdirection, and cat-and-mouse playfulness to Catwoman.  Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Marion Cotillard both do well as Blake and Miranda, respectively.

The plot, while more than a little on-the-nose, is enjoyable.  Bane’s vision is greatly influenced by the French Revolution (the DVD should probably come with a spoiler warning for A Tale of Two Cities,) and it’s really neat to see how that dynamic is realized in a place like Gotham.  Meanwhile, it’s cool to see Bruce rejoining the fight after being out for so long.  He sort of has to rebuild himself from the ground up in order to take Bane on, and the side of good is a real team effort here, more so than any other film in the franchise.  I like watching Batman working with others, as well as watching how the rest of the good guys get by on their own when he’s not around.  In a way, his temporary retirement/refusal of the call forces those like Gordon, Blake, etc. to step up their own capabilities, which is good, because in this fight, Batman needs all the help he can get.

Like all the films in the trilogy, it’s definitely too long.  This one is a whopping 2 hours and 45 minutes, and especially on rewatch, it can feel like a beast of a movie.  It could’ve easily stood to lose half an hour.  However, it’s an undeniably fine film that brings the series to an excellent close.  It reminds me a tiny bit of the Breaking Bad finale in that, before I saw it, I couldn’t have told you what I was hoping for, but afterwards, I was decidedly satisfied.

Warnings

Heavy comic-book violence, a little sexual content, drinking, swearing, and thematic elements.

Top Five Buster Keaton Stunts: Independent Shorts

More fabulous Buster Keaton stunts!  In general, I’d say the Fatty Arbuckle stunts are more impressive physically.  These, though, are more impressive creatively.  In his own work, Buster’s style and imagination really shines, and it’s that inventive flair that comes through here.

One Week

Okay, so the originality here is more set than stunt – I just love the mishmash house.  The stunt itself isn’t too wild, and you can see the ground give a bit where they dug down to hide a slightly softer landing.  This one gets points for sheer nerve.  Yeah, there’s a bit of a cushion, but this is Buster’s can-do philosophy in a nutshell.  What does he do if he wants his character to fall from a second story?  He goes up to the second story, opens the door, and falls out, “simple” as that.

Neighbors

A tag-team effort here, with Buster pulling in some acrobat pals as ringers.  The walking human ladder is just utterly wonderful – a visual spectacle, an athletic wonder, and so blame funny!  While Buster’s best stunts in the Arbuckle-Keaton shorts are more like Easter eggs, just dropped in for a bit of fun, the human ladder sequence is well incorporated into the story and nicely augmented with extra gags.  Plus, I can’t believe how long Buster stays perched atop the other two and all he gets up to while he’s there.  Amazing!

The Goat

This is a small moment, but I love it.  The buildup is great, as Buster and the police chief both slowly rise from their seats and Things Look Bleak for Our Hero.  Then, out of nowhere, bam!  Buster springs into action, leaping onto the table, onto the chief, and through a small, high-placed window.  I feel like if Buster were alive today, they’d have him making action films.

The Boat

This is similar to the famous water wheel scene from Daydreams, but I like the version in The Boat better.  As the Damfino constantly overturns in a revolving barrel roll, Buster is tossed around the cabin like popcorn.  While the Daydreams scene hilariously evokes the idea of a hamster wheel, it’s much more absurd here in that it’s an entire room, the cabin of the Damfino, that’s rotating end over end.  I also love when he finally decides enough is enough and nails his shoes to the floor, which keeps him rooted to one spot as the boat continues to flip.

Cops

Comic and athletic masterpiece all the way through.  Buster’s deftness on the ladder, twisting his body and shifting his weight to teeter it onto one side of the fence or the other, is staggering.  I can’t imagine the precision that went into getting the ladder to pivot exactly how he wanted it.  And when he goes full-on seesaw with it, camping out on the fulcrum while more and more Keystone Cops start trying to yank it down at either end?  Fantastic.  I love everything about it.

Doctor Who: Series 9, Episode 2 – “The Witch’s Familiar” (2015)

Is “The Witch’s Familiar” a better-written, better-plotted episode than “The Magician’s Apprentice?”  Hard to say.  It has its share of slapdash storytelling, it teases yet another unappealing-sounding prophecy, and there’s one reveal at the end that’s just straight-up silly.  Also, it doesn’t quite feel cohesive as the conclusion to what came before it, like the two episodes are pieces of the same picture, but each is from a differently-cut puzzle.  However, I was completely along for the ride with this one and enjoyed it immensely.  Goes to show how willing I am to love all things Who when the characters are relatively on-point.

I feel like I can say even less about the plot than last week.  Basically, big Doctor-Davros heart-to-heart with some accusations, some rebuttals, some moral questions, and some subterfuge.  Meanwhile, demented odd-couple team-up featuring Clara and Missy (who calls Clara the canary to Missy’s miner.)  The episode expands a bit more on the make-up and workings of the Daleks as well.

I love the Doctor here, which is maybe weird, because he doesn’t technically do much.  This whole story is strangely light on things actually happening, and in this episode in particular, Clara and Missy get almost all the action.  That leaves the Doctor to his discourse with Davros, much of which is pretty great.  The Doctor has evidently thought long and hard about the “Who am I?” question since last season, because he has some terrific things to say about it, and the history between him and Davros really comes through.  Both last week and here, the prickliness seems severely reduced.  Not sure if this is due to extenuating circumstances or if it’s a revamp of the Doctor’s character.  Hopefully, it’s the former – as I’ve said, I don’t like it when he crosses over into dickish, but I love me some cantankerous Twelve.  He can be compassionate and love adventure and get grumpy about things, which I love about him.  It wouldn’t be a deal-breaker for me, but I don’t want him too ironed out.

It’s fun to watch Clara and Missy working sort-of together.  Once again, Missy is used to good effect, being clever and pulling in insights that comes from lifetimes of knowing the Doctor.  I like, though, that she’s still completely evil with a capital “self-serving.”  She screws with people and does horrible things basically because she feels like it, and while she may ally with you if your interests temporarily overlap with hers, don’t take your eyes off her for a second, because she will throw you under the bus when she sees an advantage in it.  That’s good – she’s the kind of baddie that really just needs to stay bad, and too many villains’ characters suffer if they’re neutered to keep them around more conveniently.  On the Clara front, it’s not a big “win” episode for her, but she again demonstrates concern for and understanding of the Doctor.  We’re two episodes into this run, and the writers haven’t made her do anything that really aggravates me.  Has the show turned over a new leaf re: Clara?  Please, please, please!

I will say that the episode drops the ball on what I think was an excellent opportunity.  I won’t go into too many details in the interest of keeping spoilers to a minimum, but there’s a sequence where I was begging for Clara to get a flash of one of her other in-the-Doctor’s-timestream lives.  The comparison seemed so perfect, and I thought sure we were going there – it would’ve been a neat way to give Clara some good emotional material to work with, a bit of a parallel to the Doctor – but nada!  I was disappointed.

More Mulan Thoughts

Since rewatching Mulan, it’s really stayed in my head (and not just “I’ll Make a Man Out of You”!)  I’ve been trying to pinpoint why I love Mulan so much as a heroine, and despite my love for female characters who can throw down – Mulan was likely the first woman warrior I admired – I’m a bit surprised to realize what a small role the action stuff plays in what makes her so great.

At a glance, people might say the film is about a girl proving she can fight with the boys.  There are elements of that, to be sure, and I can see why the theme is touted so often.  It’s a clear, uncomplicated girl-power message that’s pretty accessible.   Which is good – it’s a theme worth presenting – but really, there’s so much more that Mulan is doing, which, for me, is what really elevates the film into something magnificient.

Mulan’s introduction makes it clear that she doesn’t fit in.  She’s awkward and uncomfortable in the ostentatious outfit she’s swathed in to meet the matchmaker, and she really can’t hold her tongue when she has something important to say.  She doesn’t align with the graceful, blandly appealing picture of silent femininity to which the people of her village subscribe.  It’s no wonder she doesn’t truly find herself until she escapes those narrow, gendered expectations.

But that’s not to say she was longing to wear armor, go to war, and do some damage with a sword.  Merida from Brave would’ve been all over that; if she’d been in Mulan’s movie, she’d have joined the army because she wanted to, for the adventure and the chance to show she’s just as good as anybody else.  Mulan, however, isn’t a fighter.  She’s not an Action Girl.  She’s not a “tomboy.”  She becomes a soldier, not for excitement, adrenaline, or a place to belong, but for the love of her family.  Her father is ailing and wouldn’t survive a war.  The whole family knows that, but they also know he won’t refuse the emperor’s call.  Rather than let him go off to fight and die, Mulan takes his place and enters a completely different world where she doesn’t fit in.

Out of the dolled-up frying pan and into the testosterone-fueled fire.  Mulan isn’t herself here, either, and her first day of training goes almost as disastrously as her visit to the matchmaker.  The big difference is that, while the other future brides all seemed picture-perfect, the other soldiers are just as untrained as she is, and unlike the matchmaker, her captain’s job is to teach her, not merely judge her.  Having embraced the army as her last real chance to bring honor to her family, Mulan works her butt off, and she grows immensely in strength and abilities.  It’s not a lark or an opportunity to show off – it’s serious work, and she puts everything she has into it.

I also like that, although Mulan definitely gets her well-deserved share of Big Damn Hero moments, they tend to hinge on her already-established attritube:  her brains.  Mulan fights smart, taking out opponents that are way bigger and more technically-skilled than she is by a) taking stock of her surroundings, b) using what’s on hand to her advantage, and c) keeping her eyes on the big picture.  Similarly, her final triumph involves plenty of (awesome) action, but her biggest personal win has nothing to do with her combat skills.  Again, it comes back to an established trait – her assertiveness – and brings her story full circle.  For her, victory isn’t beating up all the boys.  It’s getting the boys to listen to what she has to say and trust her intelligence and insight, even after they find out she’s a woman.  To protect those she loves, she goes to war in disguise, but when she comes back a hero, it’s finally as herself.

Relationship Spotlight: Jaye & Sharon Tyler (Wonderfalls)

I wrote about Jaye and Aaron ages ago, and they remain my favorite Tyler sibling duo, but Jaye and Sharon are pretty fun, too.  As with Jaye and her brother, the two sisters’ relationship is wildly dysfunctional but, at the same time, oddly compelling.  The character interactions on this show really take it beyond a quirky curiosity about a young woman who hears inanimate objects talk to her and make it real.  Jaye and Sharon are a prime example of that.

Jaye and her sister don’t have what you’d call a warm relationship.  They’re not close – Jaye tries to avoid everyone in the family as a rule, but when she and Sharon are in the same sphere, Jaye’s sarcasm starts working overtime.  As a type-A immigration lawyer, Sharon is light years past slacker Jaye (a retail clerk) in terms of grown-up pursuits.  Sharon has worked hard to get where she is, and not just in her professional life; she frequently casts herself in the martyr-ish role of the family savior, the one who bends over backwards to accommodate the others and cleans up the messes of more wayward members like Jaye.  This career and familial pressure – and extreme closetedness – have left Sharon tightly-wound, practically brittle.

Jaye, meanwhile, has cultivated an “expectation-free zone” for herself.  Unlike her family of overachievers, she prefers to live well below her potential.  She enjoys the way she exasperates Sharon; however, there’s also a little part of her that kind of resents how seemingly put-together Sharon is, which complicates their interactions.  Although Jaye is determined to keep her life from moving forward, she doesn’t like her sister looking down on her and wears her retail vest with a surly chip on her shoulder.

Of course, Jaye’s days of inaction are coming to a close.  Everything changes when the inanimate objects around her start pestering her to do things, and this is when Jaye and Sharon’s relationship starts to soften, little by little.  Some it comes from external prodding; it’s one of Jaye’s tchotchke consciences who first urges Jaye to say “I love you,” to her sister.  The fact that Sharon is accidentally outed to Jaye also plays a part in their relationship.  While Aaron is the only one in the family who learns Jaye’s secret, Jaye is the only one who knows Sharon is a lesbian.  As self-involved as Jaye can be, I think having a secret of her own allows her to empathize, at least a bit, with Sharon’s situation.  She’s supportive in her own snarky Jaye way, and even though I daresay Sharon sometimes wishes Jaye had never found out, it’s good for her to have someone in the know.

Even though Sharon and Jaye continue to clash, sometimes enormously, Jaye pretty consistently turns to Sharon when she needs help, and Sharon rarely disappoints.  Whether it’s a way out of a legal jam or some coaching through a difficult conversation, Sharon is there for her little sister (often complaining throughout and pointing out that she can’t just drop everything because Jaye can’t sort her own crap out.)  Aaron is more of an emotional support for Jaye, trying to get her to open up about what’s going on with her, and Jaye and Sharon definitely don’t have that kind of relationship, but Sharon provides support in a different way, serving as a reluctant-but-dependable protector/advisor/lifeguard.  Though Jaye isn’t the best at reciprocating (she usually needs a push to go out of her way for anyone,) she at least starts to recognize all that her sister does on her behalf and begins to understand why Sharon acts so uptight.  Baby steps, but considering where they are at the start of the series, not bad at all.

Equilibrium (2002, R)

I really like this movie.  It’s a cool, stylish dystopian film with good heart and great performances, and though its main plot is fairly dystopian-standard, the premise is compelling and well-executed.  I recently watched it again and was reminded how much I enjoy it.

Equilibrium is a bit similar to the Delirium series in that evil government’s goal is to numb the submissive population, but instead of focusing specifically on love, all emotion here is regarded as dangerous subversion.  Every citizen injects themselves daily with a drug that inhibits their emotions, and an elite police force called the clerics is devoted to rooting out the “sense offenders” who secretly forego the drug.  Our protagonist, John Preston, is a dedicated cleric whose entire worldview is scrambled one day thanks to an accidental missed dose, a tiny window of time just long enough to let in the emotions that have been held back from him his entire life.

I previously singled out Preston as one of my top five Christian Bale roles.  His performance here is stunning.  Preston is at first wholly unfeeling – and not just unfeeling, but unable to even comprehend the idea of feeling.  His existence is so paltry and half-lived, but he hasn’t the slightest idea what he’s missing.  Then, when his emotions are accidentally unlocked, it’s remarkable to watch this insensible, highly-controlled man get knocked over by the strength of feelings he’s never experienced.  He has no context for what’s happening, and even as it terrifies him (both for the illegality of sense offense and for the power of his unsuppressed emotions,) he can’t bring himself to go back, because he realizes there’s something so ecstatic about being able to feel.  I especially love his private moments of reacting for the first time to beautiful things.  A big part of the clerics’ job, a la Fahrenheit 451, is finding/destroying sense offenders’ secret hordes of forbidden objects – paintings, music, and poetry, but simpler bric-a-brac as well – and Preston’s first experience hearing Beethoven on a confiscated record is gorgeous.  But of course, Preston is now a sense offender in a field specifically trained to uncover sense offenders, and so Bale’s performance shifts again, this time showing the second, emotional Preston trying to disguise his demeanor and pretend to be the earlier, unfeeling Preston.  Just fantastic all around.

It’s not a perfect movie.  It can be kind of heavy-handed (I mean, of course he winds up in a situation where his fellow clerics are executing a bunch of puppies, pretty much just cuz,) and some of the twists in the last act don’t quite work for me.  However, it’s still a fine film that does some pretty neat things.  I also like the cool-looking “gun kata” combat style used in the movie, and it gets further bonus points for using a Yeats quote that isn’t from “The Second Coming.”  Don’t get me wrong; I like “The Second Coming,” but it’s the one you hear every time pop culture references Yeats, and I love the poem quoted here and how it’s incorporated into the film.  “Be careful, Preston.  You’re treading on my dreams…”

In addition to Bale, the movie features Taye Diggs as a shrewd, ambitious cleric and Emily Watson as a sense offender.  We also get a little from the always-reliable Hey It’s That Guy! William Fichtner, and Sean Bean is terrific in a small role.

Warnings

Violence and thematic elements.

Favorite Characters: Bazil (Micmacs)

Micmacs is a wonderfully fantastic movie, and Bazil has a lot to do with that.  He’s such a fun, kooky oddball, but he’s also a brave, resourceful man with a talent for creative vengeance, and his story has fine moments of heart.  If you put together Sam from Benny & Joon, WALL*E, and a few choice Buster Keaton characters (and taught them all to speak French,) you get someone who looks an awful lot like Bazil. This is a leading man who makes it easy to adore his movie.

If you saw Bazil for the first time, you might make the mistake of assuming he’s a sad sack.  It’s a reasonable enough conjecture – after all, he’s a guy living in a junkyard, after getting dismissed from his dead-end job, after a near-fatal accident left him with a bullet lodged in his head.  He has plenty to be disheartened about, and his default expression tends toward the slightly melancholic (shades of Buster Keaton?)  In truth, however, the term “sad sack” couldn’t come within spitting distance of Bazil.  He’s a lot of things, but in no way is he a man sitting around counting his woes.

While Bazil very clearly has woes, he shows a remarkable ability to make the best of things.  He manages living on the street all right (he finds some pretty clever ways to earn cash,) and he settles quickly into life with the scrapyard misfits.  That said, making the best of things doesn’t mean surrendering, and when Bazil discovers the two arms manufacturers whose products caused him a lot of grief (the land mine that killed his father and the bullet that upended his life,) he decides to go on the offensive.  He’s not malicious of destructive; rather, he acts more like a force for karmic justice, righting the scales by serving up just deserts to a couple of despicable, self-serving characters.

Like Amélie before him, Bazil takes to inventive retribution with whimsical aplomb.  He dedicates himself to rooting out the weaknesses of his opponents, turning their greed, obsessiveness, and delusions of invincibility against them.  He concocts wild, intricate stratagems in which each movement sets off a new chain reaction, a million little acts that destabilize corrupt companies and nudge their avaricious CEOs toward self-destruction.  He’s an exacting but appreciative leader to his friends and accomplices, recognizing the manifold potential for mischief within their diverse skill sets.

Despite the big vendettas, though, Bazil isn’t all work and no play.  Like the others at the junkyard, he enjoys indulging in a bit of levity, and I like how wonderful and weird his little amusements are.  Whether he’s hamming it up with a nonsense language, sending a helium serenade down a chimney, or playing a little dueling monkey-see, monkey-do, he’s tremendously entertaining in a way that you rarely find.  Normally, you’d need a Manic Pixie Dream Girl for that level of charming whimsy, but Bazil isn’t a construct or an object lesson in Living! for the benefit of an actual dynamic character.  He’s a real character in his own right with his own goals and story, and his oddities are simply part of who he is.  And the fact that this goofball is the man who wants to take down two heavy-hitters in the arms industry, men infinitely wealthier, more powerful, and better equipped than himself?  That his quirkiness isn’t something that gets pushed aside when the work begins, but is a consistent trait even through his most proficient moments?  That just makes it even sweeter.  Bazil is an unlikely hero and an unlikely leading man, and his means of coming out on top is just as unlikely.