Original: As-Yet-Unnamed Writing Exercise (2015)

I know - catchy title, right?  This is what I came up with based on a writing exercise given to the students in an English class I interpret.  Make of it what you will.

*          *          *

Allyson:
It means meeter of life as it comes,
Pursuer of justice in every shape and shade,
Devourer of ecstatic stories with her bare hands.
It is the number mathematicians call imaginary.
It is like the color of autumn
Bleeding into a leaf before its end.
It is standing in a small, wind-blown cottage in Ireland,
Learning the ideals of a man who battled a giant
For the right of his people's tongue to persist.
It is the memory of Alice Paul,
Who taught me ferocity and truth
When she found food a poor substitute
To being allowed an equal voice in her own country.
My name is Allyson –
It means that love isn't limited
To labels, boxes, or meet-cute couplings,
And well-chosen words can make
A world on which to stand.

Favorite Characters: Capt. Steve Rogers a.k.a. Captain America (The Avengers)

Seriously, how much does Cap rule?  The greatest strength of The Avengers franchise is its richly varied cast of characters – there’s so much to love about all of them, and the highest Avengers in my estimation are often the ones who I watched most recently.  But despite all that excellence, I think Cap might be my favorite of them all (some Cap-related spoilers.)

Steve Rogers, the asthmatic weakling who lied on enlistment form after enlistment form, desperate to do whatever it took to join the fight against the Nazis.  One military scientist looked at him and saw, not a shrimp, but a brave man with a good heart – a man who would always understand the value of strength because he knew how it felt to be weak.  One super-soldier serum later, he was Captain America.

I really love the idea that it had to be Steve, because more so than being strong, Captain America had to be good.  The serum amplifies everything about a person – physically, of course, but more than that.  If that person is cruel or self-serving or reckless, the serum makes them more of that than they were, and Dr. Erskine gets that so much power has to be in the hands of someone who won’t abuse it.  That’s why, even as Steve struggles in his initial training, he continually proves why he’s the one for the job.  Whether he’s risking his life for others or using his smarts to make up for his physical shortcomings, everything he does shows that he’s the right choice.  Tony, shortly after meeting Cap, calls him a “lab rat” and declares that “everything special about [him] came out of a bottle,” but he completely misses the point.  It’s not until he really gets to know him that Tony understands why the world needs Cap.

Some find this to be dull, feel that Cap is a boy scout who’s always right and never forgets to floss.  Next to “grittier” heroes like Tony or Black Widow, Cap might come across as flatter, less complicated.  Not to me, though.  I see Cap struggle plenty – even though his moral compass is in good working order and he doesn’t generally hesitate to do the right thing, it’s still tough to do it.  Frequently, what Cap feels is his responsibility doesn’t mesh with the orders he’s given, and for a soldier, that can be a problem.  Both of his solo films feature him veering off and doing his own thing, with varying levels of pushback (and Civil War obviously looks like it’s going to continue that trend.)  Besides, good doesn’t have to equal boring.  Not that I don’t enjoy grayer characters, because I do (all my love to Black Widow,) but “good” characters can be just as engaging.  Sadly, in the midst of the current antihero craze, it seems there’s not much interest in putting forth the effort to make them so.

One of the things that impresses me most about Cap is his incredible resilience.  He has had a rough time of it.  He lost friends in the war, and he lost his entire world when he got trapped in the ice and woke up in the 21^st century.  Now, he’s in an unfamiliar time where so much is unknown to him and the woman he loved is slipping away under dementia.  He’s seen his best friend suffer horrific mental violations and been forced to fight him, endeavoring all the while to remind him who he really is.  And in the face of all that, Cap just keeps going.  He fights, he reaches out, he honors the past, he makes new friends/allies, and he dutifully chips away at all the history and pop culture he missed.  He doesn’t give up or turn bitter.  He doesn’t insist that the world owes him a break.  He takes all that pain and sublimates it into something good.  Now, that’s a hero I want to follow.

Hamilton: Songs 44-46

Here we are, at the end of our Hamilton song posts.  Looking at the final three numbers of Act II today – after more than two months of listening to this album to the exclusion of nearly everything else, it still excites, wows, and stirs me with its incredible music and lyrics.

“Best of Wives and Best of Women” – Eliza wakes to find Hamilton preparing for his duel with Burr.  Unbeknownst to her, he’s writing a goodbye for her in case he doesn’t make it.  It’s such a short number, but it weaves in threads from “It’s Quiet Uptown,” “Non-Stop,” and “That Would Be Enough” to fine effect.  There’s dramatic irony everywhere, and Hamilton’s tenderness with her is beautiful.

Best lyric:  “Why do you write like you’re running out of time?”

“The World Was Wide Enough” – What an all-around wonderful song.  Most of it borrows its melody from “The Ten Duel Commandments,” although Burr gorgeously reprises “Wait for It” at the end, and Hamilton’s final monologue pulls in elements from numerous points in the show – not precisely life flashing before his eyes, but reminiscent of that idea.  From start to finish, a stunning climax for the story.

Best lyric:  “Legacy.  What is a legacy? / It’s planting seeds in a garden you never get to see. / I wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me. / America, you great unfinished symphony, you sent for me. / You let me make a difference.”

“Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story” – It can be hard to end a show in which the main character dies, but Hamilton does a lovely job of it.  The meditation on life, history, and being remembered is of course relevant to Hamilton’s story, but it’s applicable to anyone, great or small.  I really love the way the focus settles on Eliza, giving us the opportunity to hear about the (many) amazing things this woman did in Hamilton’s memory.  When she asks to show us what she’s “proudest of,” and the ensemble comes in so softly with, “The orphanage,” I get chills every time.

Best lyric:  “Every other Founding Father story gets told.  Every other Founding Father gets to grow old.”

Neighbors (1920)

This short just screams Buster to me.  It’s one of my favorite shorts of his – so funny, so imaginative.  The mechanical gags are fun, the circular gags are topnotch, and the human-ladder climax is a positive showstopper.

Buster is hopelessly in love with the girl next door, but their feuding fathers threaten to keep them apart (not unlike Our Hospitality and Steamboat Bill, Jr. – Buster really liked Romeo and Juliet stories.)  Passing notes through holes in the fence that separates them and using their families’ shared clothesline as a means of transport, they make every effort for love to win out.

The gags in this short just sparkle, coming hard, fast, and funny throughout.  There are some fantastic creative touches, like Buster getting strung along the clothesline by his girl’s father, and the human-ladder getaway has to be seen to be believed.  The dialogue gets in some fun zingers, too.  It kills me when Buster’s dad, trying to get him unstuck from the mud, angrily dismisses his neighbor’s advice with, “He’s my son and I’ll break his neck any way I please!”  More points for the human fly-swatter, the beltless wedding (oh my goodness, so funny,) and Buster’s ability to baffle a police officer by only wiping half his face clean of black (brown?) paint.

Speaking of police, this isn’t Buster’s earliest short dealing with cops – that would be Convict 13 – but it’s the first to feature his patented pursued-by-officers-of-the-law street chases, which he later employs so well in The Goat and Cops.  Some of the cop gags are excellent; my favorite is Buster’s break into a “don’t mind me, nothing to see here” jig when he accidentally stumbles upon one of the police he’d thought he evaded.  This whole sequence is a bit of a detour as far as the story goes, but each part is so fun and flows so well into the next that I don’t mind.

However, I should mention that this short has some of the most racial humor to be found in Buster’s work, and, since this was 1920, that can get uncomfortable.  For the most part, I’m okay with the cops mistaking Buster for a Black man when his face is covered in mud or dark paint, because the joke is on the cops rather than Black people.  The (Black) man originally nabbed for Buster’s unintentional thwacking of a police officer gets away, and he later watches in amusement as Buster confuses the cop with his half-and-half face.  For me, the most insensitive part comes later, when Buster hides in a Black woman’s laundry.  As he rises, still covered by a white bed sheet, the woman and her family all run away from the “ghost.”  To be fair, the number of people, white or Black, who appear to believe in ghosts in silent comedies seems to be wildly disproportionate to the actual numbers, and Buster himself does his own “ghost fright” double-takes in some of his movies, but doing the same gag with a Black family feels stereotypical and uncool to me.

Virginia Fox is cute as a button and a real delight as Buster’s girl.  Big Joe Roberts plays her dad, and art imitates life with Buster’s actual father Joe playing his dad here; their comic roughhousing together doesn’t miss a step.

Warnings

Slapstick violence and some racially-insensitive humor.

Doctor Who: Series 10, Episode 0 – “The Husbands of River Song” (2015)

Christmas romp!  River!  Hijinks!  Heads in bags!  What more do you want on Christmas, right?  I’d say this episode isn’t quite as good as I (naively?) hoped it would be, but it delivers on the most important levels.  (Light spoilers.)

The Doctor’s solitary Christmas is interrupted by what appears to be a by-now-familiar summons from River.  Upon being brought together, however, River shows no signs of recognition.  Is she playing dumb for some strategic reason, or does she not know Twelve?  That’s what he finds time to wonder somewhere in between the demands of the whirlwind adventure in which River is embroiled.  There’s trickery, thievery, and archeology, along with idyllic Christmas snow, homicidal headless robots, and a veritable bevy of sonic devices.

I’ll start with my cons and move on to the pros.  There’s some definite slapdashery going on, nonsensical developments and twists that don’t seem in service of much of anything.  River herself feels weirdly out-of-character for a sizable chunk of the episode, and I can’t really make heads or tails of it.  I kept waiting for the other shoe or the act to drop – I may need another viewing to see if I can get a better handle on it. 

The worst for me, though, is how long it takes River to twig that Twelve is the Doctor.  On some level, I can understand it, and the scene in which she does figure it out is excellent, but going into this episode, I was most excited to see the dynamic between River and Twelve.  We got that, and the show didn’t disappoint on that front – not by any means – but we could have had considerably more of it.  As it is, I feel like the episode wasted too much time dangling the prospect of what I was really there to see.

Because once that’s taken care of, the Doctor and River are basically magic.  They’re fun and funny and insane, but also smart and take-charge and absolutely lovely.  Peter Capaldi and Alex Kingston play splendidly off of one another, bringing comedy, drama, and adventure in equal measure.  There are nods to the past alongside discoveries in the present and questions about the future, and the nature of their relationship is explored in a few fantastic scenes in the last third of the episode. 

We haven’t seen her for several years now, but even though River seems off in the first section of the story, I don’t fault Kingston for it.  In the parts where River is written like River, she’s note-perfect – hasn’t missed a step.  And the Doctor is fairly glorious here.  His recent hardships are addressed, in a slightly roundabout way, and he’s earnest about some tough emotions, but he also gets to smile and have fun for a change, to just enjoy the life he leads.  Additionally, we get a few delightfully-cranky Twelve moments (ah, bless,) and the Doctor shows off his considerable snarking talents.  There’s a scene of him playing around in the TARDIS that’s worth the price of admission.

Fun and pathos, side by side.  That’s the Who I love best, and I know the show is still capable of doing it.  Throw in well-crafted storytelling that makes sense, and I’m the happiest of campers.  Next season, let’s keep the momentum going on the first two and work on consistently delivering the third.  That’s what topping my Whovian Christmas list.

Unfortunate Relationship Tropes: Anything for Love

I haven’t done Unfortunate Relationship Tropes since I introduced the feature, back when I discussed Amy (later Clara’s) unfortunate habit of preferring death to carrying on without their beaus on Doctor Who.  Today, the trope in question has copious offenders, but in exploring it, I’m primarily looking at Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel.  (Spoilers for both shows.)

The premise is simple.  One character is in danger, possibly on the point of death.  While everyone panics on their behalf, their love interest goes for the full, “This is X we’re talking about, and you can’t begin to know how I feel!!!  Why are we just standing around when we should be bending the heavens to rescue them, consequences be damned!!!!”  And since both series frequently deal with apocalypse-level events, those potential consequences can be pretty far-reaching.  It’s tricky, because it’s not cool to have the heroes all-but-literally say, “The world can go to hell as long as I can save him/her.”  Surely, our heroes should be able to recognize that, no matter how painful it may be, the world has to come first (not to mention, the imperiled love interest is part of the world that risks destruction if the heroes don’t intervene.)  Yet, even though we want the heroes do the noble thing and prioritize the good of the world, we’re personally invested in the imperiled character.  So, for the hero to say, “Good luck, babe – I gotta focus on the big picture.  Hope you don’t die in the meantime!” doesn’t really engender support, either.

This trope plays out numerous times in the Buffyverse.  On Buffy, when Willow is kidnapped by the Mayor, Oz is so bent on protecting Willow above all else that he forces the gang’s hand into giving the Mayor what he wants in exchange for Willow, severely weakening their arsenal against him.  This seems minor compared to other examples, but it’s significant for me because Oz takes everyone’s choice away; while the others are understandably freaked but trying to discuss what they need to do, he unilaterally makes the decision for them.  When Faith poisons Angel, Buffy’s ready to straight-up sacrifice Faith to save him.  This is huge – not only would it obviously result in Faith’s death, but it’s a potentially-damning act that Buffy may not be able to come back from.  On Angel, when Cordelia is taken over by an ancient malevolence, Angel is adamantly against fighting it in any way that would harm Cordy.  In holding back, he exposes the world to incredible evil, and the rest of the season is spent trying to stop the force that’s born that day.  It’s noteworthy, though, that Buffy’s most extreme example involves sisters, not lovers.  When Glory plans to use Dawn’s blood to open a gate to a hell dimension – one that will only close when she dies – Buffy is prepared to kill her own friends to keep them from bringing things to a swift end if Glory succeeds.  Even though unimaginable horrors will be unleashed on the world and Dawn will likely die regardless, Buffy insists that, “The last thing she’ll see is me protecting her.”  In the end, when hell opens, Buffy stops it by sacrificing, not Dawn, but herself.

That said, the shows get points for subverting the trope on rare, important occasions.  There’s Angel and Spike, who, on Angel, let Fred succumb to Illyria rather than allow half the world be infected.  Both of them, though, are Fred’s friends rather than lovers.  If Wesley had been there, what would he have done?  But the greatest example is probably my favorite moment in either series – Buffy stabbing Angel to keep the world from being sucked into hell.  It’s a devastating scene, with Angel just regaining his soul and unsure of what’s going on, and Buffy, wrecked, realizing what she has to do.  But that’s the thing:  she has to do it, and she does, for the greater good, despite how the cost destroys her.  That right there is Buffy’s Biggest Damn Hero moment.

Favorite Characters: Angelica Shuyler (Hamilton)

I’ve raved about her in other Hamilton posts long enough; it’s time to give my girl Angelica a write-up of her own.  Angelica Schuyler, how do I love thee?  Let me count the ways.  (Some Angelica-related spoilers.)

I’ve already talked, multiple times, about the wonderful piece of music that is “Satisfied,” but it bears repeating.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a sympathetic portrayal of a woman deciding to marry for money rather than love.  It isn’t what she wants to do; she wants Hamilton, in no uncertain terms, but she understands that it’s what she needs to do.  While there are other factors involved – concerns that Hamilton is hoping to “elevate his status” by courting her, the clear understanding that Eliza is attracted to him as well – she knows that, despite what she may want, her duty to her family forbids it.  As the oldest daughter, it falls to her to make the advantageous match.  She finds weds a wealthy but unstimulating man, ensuring the family’s future, so that Eliza can do what she couldn’t and marry for love. 

I mean, that’s just gorgeous, and it’s crazy, because everything stories have ever taught us about love and marriage tell us that it shouldn’t be.  They gear us up to believe that Angelica is being selfish, shallow, a gold-digger, but in reality, it’s so self-denying.  What makes it even better is the extent to which she’s doing it for Eliza’s sake.  The love between these two sisters is absolutely beautiful; the most unchangeable fact about Angelica is that she’ll do anything for Eliza.  During the whole Reynolds Pamphlet affair, even though she still cares deeply for Hamilton, she doesn’t even think twice about siding with Eliza over him.

Apart from the way Angelica deals with her mutual attraction to Hamilton and that whole situation, I also like how she’s attracted to him.  In “The Schuyler Sisters,” when the three young ladies head into the city, Angelica tells Eliza she’s “lookin’ for a mind at work,” and that’s what she finds in Hamilton.  Her first description of him is “intelligent eyes in a hunger-pang frame,” and her chief complaint about her eventual husband is that “he is not a lot of fun, but there’s no one who can match [Hamilton] for turn of phrase.”  With Hamilton, she’s finally able “to match wits with someone at [her] level.”  She loves him for his mind, his conversation, and his ideals.  Don’t get me wrong.  There’s strong physical attraction there, too – she notes that, when she first sees Hamilton, he sets “every part aflame,” – and I like that.  I love that this 18^th-century woman is cerebral and physical, passionate and practical. 

What else?  She’s witty, with a winking sense of humor and a slyness that reminds me the tiniest bit of Beatrice from Much Ado about Nothing.  She shuts down men who talk down to and objectify her.  She voraciously reads – and critiques – revolutionary publications and ponders what place women will have in this brave new world the men are agitating for.  After the Revolution, when Hamilton joins Washington’s cabinet, she takes an avid interest in politics and gives him her opinions on how to work with the Democratic-Republicans instead of just clashing with them.  She has an earnestly sentimental side, asking Hamilton if, in a letter, he intentionally wrote, “My dearest, Angelica,” instead of, “My dearest Angelica.”

Basically?  She’s Angelica Shuyler.  She’s hardcore amazing.  Deal with it.

A Few Thoughts on Merlin (Once Upon a Time)

I wouldn’t go so far as to call this a Crimes Against… post.  For me, Once Upon a Time’s Merlin isn’t a beloved character done a disservice by the writers, nor is he a character so badly mishandled that he never really gets a chance to be.  Instead, this featured character on the show’s latest half-season is presented from the get-go as really great and amateur-hour bad at pretty much the same time.  (Merlin-related spoilers for season 5A.)

I think the best way to describe it is this:  I love the way Merlin is, but I hate the things he does.  Does this make anything resembling sense?  Let me start with a little setup, and then we’ll move on to this frustrating dichotomy.  I do really like the general slant of Merlin’s backstory.  His power isn’t innate like Emma’s or Zelena’s, but he doesn’t seek it out like Rumpel, either.  Instead, this 1000-year-old wizard is created through no intention of his own.  An age ago, Merlin is a runaway (soldier?) lost in the desert, and after his companion tries to touch the Holy Grail and is destroyed for his unworthiness, Merlin dares to ask permission to drink from the same cup.  His life is more than saved by its waters – he’s made ageless and nigh-immortal, wielding incredible power.  I like that he’s just an ordinary guy who was given power and immortality without looking for it, and that he really doesn’t have any guidance as to how to use it, instead finding things out for himself.

Okay, so that’s the Merlin we’re given.  I’ll jump to the not-so-good now and work my way back to the positives.  A number of the heroes on Once Upon a Time spend far too much of their screentime unfortunately saddled with the Idiot Ball, and Merlin, it seems, gets more than his fair share.  So many of his actions during his time on the show range from nonsensical to downright baffling.  For someone as long-lived and powerful as he is (not to mention his little gift of prophecy,) he’s remarkably prone to being played for a chump, and I just plain don’t get wide swathes of what he does.  Why does he visit Emma as a child to warn her against reforging Excalibur when he wants her to do just that in Camelot?  Why does he leave a cryptic magical voicemail for the heroes instead of talking to them when they’re right outside, and for that matter, why does he say Nimue is their only hope when that makes zero sense?  Why does he get owned so completely by Arthur, and why is he just randomly cooking up a Dark Curse, sans freshly crushed heart, when things are going south?  For such a powerful, mythic, and long-awaited character, he hardly contributes to the good fight in any meaningful way.

But here’s the thing – when you take out all the brain-dead stuff he does, Merlin is awesome.  Illogical, but true.  Now, a lot of this is down to Elliot Knight’s fine performance (Once Upon a Time has always had a phenomenal casting department.)  Merlin just exudes the presence of a man who has absolutely been around for 1000 years and moves through a more rarefied plain than us mortals.  At the same time, he doesn’t act like he’s above others; instead, he’s a warm, calming figure who works alongside the less godlike heroes with quiet assurance.  I love his easy, clear-eyed command of his magic, and it’s cool that, though he can see the future, he’s still a strong champion of free will.  He believes in the good of others without wearing rose-colored glasses, and he himself has been a force for good for so long despite ample opportunity to use his immense power for ill or his own personal gain.  True – if his actions always matched his awesomeness, he could wrap up the whole half-season conflict in two episodes tops, but surely there’s a middle ground where he isn’t constantly doing stupid, ill-advised things Because Plot.

Mockingjay: Part 2 (2015, PG-13)

I finally had a chance to see the final The Hunger Games installment.  As a movie based on half of a book, I don’t think it weathers the split quite as well as Part 1, but it still delivers strong acting, rootable characters, and some terrific moments.  (As with anything Hunger Games-related, I can’t talk about this movie without bringing up big twists from the previous films.)

In oh-so-many ways, the original book could have the alternate title How Life Keeps Crapping on Katniss Everdeen, and that holds true here.  Her friend, ally, and possible lover Peeta has been rescued from the Capitol as a ghost of himself – after the hallucinogenic mental conditioning he received during his torture there, he’s convinced that Katniss is a monstrous enemy who has to be stopped at all costs.  In light of this most recent devastating loss, Katniss decides that she’s done being just the telegenic face of the rebellion.  She clashes with her politically-savvy but potentially-shady handlers and makes her own plans to join the fight in earnest.

Maybe it’s just because of how often the Star Wars showing in the next theater nearly drowned out Mockingjay’s dialogue for me (seriously, what’s up with that?), but I was struck by how quiet so much of this movie is.  That’s not to say there’s no action – there is, and some of it is bang-up intense – but there’s a far greater emphasis on everything from midnight-watch heart-to-hearts to political tête-à-têtes.  I’m mixed on this.  I like most of the interpersonal aspects of the story, and a number of these scenes are golden.  At the same time, the love triangle gets too much face time for my liking, and there are definitely moments where the film drags and I was itching for some action.

In general, the movie feels true to the book.  As always, things get left out, but I feel like pretty much everything essential got covered.  Although the majority of the supporting characters have pretty minor roles, nearly everyone in the cast makes the most of them.  Donald Sutherland and Elizabeth Banks are absolute gifts to the franchise as President Snow and Effie, Elden Hanson (Foggy!) kills it without saying a word as Pollux, and I’m in platonic love with Natalie Dormer’s Cressida.  Jena Malone/Johanna doesn’t get much to do, but every one of her scenes is gold, and while, overall, I’m a little underwhelmed by Finnick’s (in-my-opinion) flatter characterization in the films versus the book, Sam Claflin makes his screentime count.  Additional shout-out to Mahershala Ali as Boggs – he brings so much presence to a role that could’ve easily gotten lost in the shuffle of the large cast.  My only supporting-cast gripe is, why would you cast the wonderful Gwendoline Christie (Brienne from Game of Thrones) and only use her in one scene?

Nothing really new to say about Jennifer Lawrence as Katniss.  I love Lawrence, and I adore Katniss, and this movie continues to aptly demonstrate why.  However, I want to take a moment to give props to Josh Hutcherson.  I’m a bit lukewarm on his Peeta (more the writing than anything else, I think,) but he’s fantastically effective in his portrayal of Peeta’s “hijacked” mental state.  Superb job; Part 1 gave me hope that he’d be excellent here, and he delivers on all fronts.

Warnings

Violence, war images, and strong thematic elements.

Hamilton: Songs 39-43

Part two of the “crap just got real” portion of Hamilton.  Some dark plot stuff going on, and two of these songs probably constitute the out-and-out saddest moments in the show.

“Blow Us All Away” – The Reynolds Pamphlet and its fallout gives us Hamilton family drama that’s connected to the politics.  This song, though, transitions us to more self-contained Hamilton family drama.  Hamilton’s oldest son Phillip, a chip off the old block, gets into it with someone who made disparaging remarks about Hamilton and is determined to fight for the family honor.  It starts out breezily – Phillip, borrowing lines from “My Shot,” is all cockiness and enthusiasm – but it takes a dark turn that leads us into the next number.

Best lyric:  “The scholars say I got the same virtuosity and brains as my pops! / The ladies say my brain’s not where the resemblance stops!”

“Stay Alive (Reprise)” – Phillip’s duel doesn’t go as planned, and Hamilton and Eliza race to the bedside of their mortally wounded son.  Not much to say here.  It’s sad, and the music, lyrics, and Anthony Ramos’s performance all do a nice job of showing that Phillip is fading.

Best lyric:  “Even before we got to ten - / I was aiming for the sky.”

“It’s Quiet Uptown” – The show’s biggest “excuse me while I go sit in my room and cry” song.  More so than Phillip’s death itself, this number, which examines Hamilton and Eliza’s attempt to pick up the pieces of their lives, is so powerfully affecting.  I love the repeated description of this particular type of grief as “the unimaginable,” a theme from “That Would Be Enough” is used to fine effect, and the ending is just stunning in its beauty.  Absolute knockout.

Best lyric:  “There are moments that the words don’t reach. / There is suffering too terrible to name. / You hold your child as tight as you can / And push away the unimaginable.”

“The Election of 1800” – “Can we get back to politics?”  This song borrows elements from “Washington on Your Side” and adds new melodies of its own as the 1800 election mainly becomes a race between Jefferson and Burr.  Burr openly campaigns against his fellow Democratic-Republican and sidesteps actual issues while Jefferson realizes he may need an endorsement from Hamilton to win.  I love the “Dear Mr. Hamilton” refrain so much, and the snark at the end about the country’s original procedure for becoming vice president is awesome.

Best lyric:  “Talk less! / Smile more! / Don’t let them know / What you’re against / Or what you’re for!”

“Your Obedient Servant” – The conflicts between Burr and Hamilton bubble over in this series of letters, which vacillate between accusatorily raw and stiffly polite.  I love Hamilton, but he was also a handful, and, in this song, you can totally see why he infuriates Burr.

Best lyric:  “Even if I said what you think I said, / You would need to cite a more specific grievance. / Here’s an itemized list of thirty years of disagreements.” – “Sweet Jesus.”

The Love Nest (1923)

This was the last short Buster Keaton made before making the switch to feature films.  Overall, I’d say it’s a fairly good midrange short – Buster’s fatigue with the format can be felt (he was definitely ready to move on to bigger and better films,) but it also offers up some good gags and has a lot of fun.

Buster, jilted by his girl, has decided to take his broken heart on a ‘round-the-world boating excursion.  Of course, it’s only a few days before his little motor boat is short on supplies, and, in dire straits, he’s rescued by a whaling ship (the titular Love Nest.)  The main bent of the short comes from the captain, a notorious hothead who deals with minor screw-ups by throwing the sailors in question overhead.  Now, since Buster is obviously clumsy and disaster-prone, he has his work cut out for him in terms of staying alive aboard the ship.

The short’s best bits are those that deal with this central idea.  The captain himself (played by frequent Buster collaborator Big Joe Roberts) has some fun running gags surrounding the whole “the punishment is always capital” system; I like his routine of crossing off the names of deceased crew, and the short mines some fine humor from his abundant supply of wreaths on hand for eulogizing those who’ve displeased him.  Along with that, Buster’s attempts to avoid getting thrown overboard are all pretty enjoyable, whether by running away, fighting back, or trying to disguise his executionable offenses. 

As usual, his methods are inventive and silly.  Having seen one crewman thrown to his death for spilling hot coffee on the captain, Buster is determined not to make the same mistake.  He also pulls off a terrific save when he accidentally points a gun at the captain (don’t you just hate it when you do that?), and there’s a fantastic scene with a lifeboat in which he pretty decisively makes the mountain come to Muhammad. 

On the less-stellar side, the short feels sort of meandering, especially towards the end.  While nearly everything aboard the Love Nest is a winner, the jokes aren’t as sharp and the story isn’t as focused whenever we stray away from the ship.  The last few minutes are the worst offenders – the short seems to have about three different endings, like Buster realized the second reel wasn’t long enough and kept adding on to fill out the remaining film.  Considering what a punch Buster’s final scenes can pack, that’s a little disappointing.

I wouldn’t say it seriously drags down the short, however.  The stretched-out endings are still amusing (Buster trying to kick a fish will never not be funny!)  They just don’t come together as cohesively as the main segment of the story, which is where the short’s highlights lie.

Warnings

Slapstick violence and presumed offscreen deaths.