Favorite Characters: Johnnie Gray (The General)

Like Willie from Our Hospitality, Johnnie is a rather unique Buster Keaton character in that he’s never really all that fumbling.  He’s an unlikely leading man, to be sure, an underdog, but he doesn’t go through the same “hapless to heroic” journey that many of Buster’s arcs follow.  (Side note:  picking Willie and Johnnie as the first Buster characters I’ve singled out in no way indicates that I prefer characters that subvert Buster’s usual arc.  More than anything, it just indicates the films I’ve mostly recently rewatched.)

Early in the film, Johnnie is perhaps framed as fumbling or hapless, but it’s just a perception.  He’s physically smaller than most of the other men enlisting in the army, and when he tells Annabelle Lee that they wouldn’t take him, she assumes he’s lying to hide his cowardice.  In truth, though, just as Johnnie does try to join up, his size isn’t the reason he’s rejected.  It’s actually that he’s considered more valuable to the Southern cause as an engineer than a soldier (not that the army tells him that, of course.)

Once the main story gets started and Johnnie goes after the Yankee soldiers who stole his train, he certainly slips up and does some clumsy things, but his overall progression is always toward getting the job done.  There’s no scene where, despite his best efforts, he makes a mess of everything, like Willie’s first attempt to drive the boat in Steamboat Bill Jr. or Friendless’ effort to milk the cow in Go West.  Instead, Johnnie consistently works through his missteps and manages to stay afloat.  When he accidentally knocks the cannon loose so it points at him instead of the Yankees, he avoids blowing himself up, and when the train takes off without him, he (eventually) catches up to it.  I like this, that he’s simultaneously klutzy and effective.

There’s also the fact that he’s a civilian singlehandedly taking on a group of Union soldiers.  They have weapons that he doesn’t, not to mention training that he’s never had, but he never backs down.  He keeps at it, continually coming up with creative ideas to gain the upper hand and using whatever’s on hand to his advantage.  Plus, he’s recently been hit with the misplaced revelation that the army doesn’t want him and been jilted by his girl, so he’s not exactly coming at this from a place of confidence.  Does that inform his determination, a need to prove the doubters wrong?  It certainly helps to bring things around full circle in the end, but the narrative doesn’t really sell it that way.  More than anything, it shows us a guy whose self-esteem has taken a few knocks but who steps up to be a hero without any real thought of himself.  Very cool.

For whatever reason, I find it so endearing that he originally goes on this mission because the Yankees have stolen his train, the General.  True, they’ve kidnapped Annabelle Lee as well, but Johnnie doesn’t actually realize that until the second half of the film – at which point, of course, he sets out to rescue her.  Similarly, when he overhears the Union plan to sabotage Southern rail and telegraph lines, he hatches a plan to stop them.  But the whole thing starts with the theft of the General.  That’s the reason he risks his life, why he initially chases after them in a handcar, and why he doesn’t give up.  That’s his train, and he’s not letting anyone else take her; bless.

Doctor Who: Series 9, Episode 5 – “The Girl Who Died” (2015)

A.K.A. Winter is Coming to Doctor Who.  Guest star Maisie Williams (Arya Stark) has been hyped for ages, and she’s finally here.  This is the first episode of the season that hasn’t really worked for me.  Though I wouldn’t call it bad, it’s uneven and feels kind of half-written.  It’s sad, because Jamie Mathieson was hands-down my favorite writer last season; however, the episode is co-written by Moffat, and as with Phil Ford and Gareth Roberts last year (with “Into the Dalek” and “The Caretaker,”) my problems with the episode seem more in his wheelhouse than Mathieson’s.  (A few spoilers.)

The Doctor and Clara land in a Viking village beset by raiders of their own – the Mire, a group of alien warriors masquerading as Norse gods, have come to cherry-pick their best assets.  Being Vikings (death before dishonor and all that,) they decide they want to fight a hopelessly outmatched war against their enemies, and it’s up to our heroes to come up with a plan that will actually allow them to survive it.  Maisie Williams plays Ashidr, a Viking girl whose characterization feels sort of all over the place, but her strong performance grounds it pretty well.

My biggest gripe with this episode is that the characters seem particularly driven by the plot, doing things because the story dictates it and not because it actually makes sense for them to behave that way.  The Doctor is really defeatist here; once he realizes the Vikings aren’t down with running from the impending fight, he spends a big chunk of the episode offering no more than halfhearted plans that are obviously not going to work.  He needs numerous pep talks and inspirations from Clara, Ashidr, and other sources in order to get over it and do stuff, which, like I said, feels really forced.

It’s an all right episode for Clara.  She has a nice scene early on where she shows off some clever intuition with the Mire leader, a la “Deep Breath” or “Robot of Sherwood.”  Later, though, she’s mainly relegated to trying to spur the Doctor into action, and while what she does in this plot is fine, the plot itself bugs me enough that it’s hard to appreciate it.  That said, there are a couple of genuinely lovely Doctor-Clara scenes that include him opening up to her about his regrets and her being attuned to what’s going on with him.

I like that there’s another mild reference to the Doctor’s possibly-ambivalent feelings about having received a new regeneration cycle.  A lot of it is general Time Lord heartache about outliving the people one cares about, but there’s a little thread in there that, to me, feels specific to still being alive when he fully expected to die.  After being a bit nihilistic and calling his current regeneration a “clerical error” last week, I see a connection between the two scenes.  That really interests me, because I wish series 8 had explored this idea more.  It seemed at first like it was going there, but it became more about the “Am I a good man?” identity issue.  I hope this thread continues, because I'd really like to know how the Doctor feels about the fact that he’s still here.

Also, I’m so glad the episode brings back (and actually answers) the “Fires of Pompeii”/Twelve’s face question.  While I was hoping for an explanation that was a bit larger, I really like the scene in which it’s revealed, and the old clips it includes are perfect.

Relationship Spotlight: Xander Harris, Buffy Summers & Willow Rosenberg (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

Before there was Harry, Hermione, and Ron, there was Buffy, Willow, and Xander (and yes, I maintain that the Buffy trio was a precursor to the Harry Potter team.  I mean, come on!  The Chosen One, the nerdy girl, and the insecure wisecracker?  Sound familiar?)  For me, Buffy the Vampire Slayer only got better when it expanded its cast – I love Oz, and Anya is fabulous – but there’s something so special about these three.

First, there’s the simple fact that Buffy so quickly becomes friends with Willow and Xander.  Buffy’s new in school and desperate to fit in, and being immediately taken under Cordelia’s wing gives her a chance at the same popularity she had in LA.  However, it speaks to Buffy’s character that she doesn’t even consider joining Cordelia in spurning losers/geeks like Xander and Willow.  Buffy’s conscious of her image and wants to be popular, but her kindness and sense of justice outweigh those desires easily.  And so, even as Willow awkwardly tries to warn Buffy about the social dangers of hanging out with her, Buffy does precisely what she wants and befriends Willow and Xander, Cordelia be damned.

At first glance, just being friends with someone like Buffy probably seems like a big enough change for Willow and Xander, but of course they both radically adjust their definition of “big change” when they get to the real revelation:  Sunnydale is a frequent stomping ground for vampires and other demons, and Buffy has been endowed with superpowers to fight them.  Despite their shock and the very real threat to their safety – now, Buffy is the one trying to warn them off – they instantly fall in line with Buffy, unwilling to sit on the bench when the world needs protecting. 

With Harry Potter, the main thing Harry has going for him is a prophecy of his all-importance, but Buffy is literally capable of things that her friends aren’t.  She has superhuman strength and agility and is generally a lot less breakable than Willow and Xander.  So, she has more of a point when she gets on the “lonely savior” kick and tries to sideline her friends for their own protection.  But despite the disparity, Xander and Willow never back down from the fight.  They do whatever they can to help Buffy, from researching demons to learning magic, from whittling stakes to wielding them.  And that’s the kind of people they are – having learned what’s out there, they have to help, and knowing that their friend stands between the world and hell, they have to stand beside her.

Really, this is what sets Buffy apart from so many slayers who came before her.  I mean, yes, Buffy’s amazing and strong and brave, and even though she’s a teenager, I kind of want to be her when I grow up.  But the slayer line is long, and she’s not the only amazing, strong, brave one.  So, when we look at why she’s able to survive so many years and withstand so much, the difference is that she’s not doing it alone.  She doesn’t have to be everything because she has other people’s talents to lean on; Willow has a far greater aptitude for research, and Buffy depends on her insight and research.  She goes into the fray with people at her back, and when things go badly, she has Xander to make her smile and remind her of all that she can do.  Buffy’s the Chosen One, so the burden of holding the demons back is ultimately hers, but thanks to her friends, she’s not the only one shouldering it.

Favorite Characters: Mariana Adams Foster (The Fosters)

When I started watching The Fosters, I wasn’t a fan of Mariana – however, I suspect I wasn’t really supposed to be.  At the start of the series, she’s drawn as a fairly typical shallow teenage girl.  She’s materialistic, does stupid things for boys, and lets her desire to be popular dictate what she does.  To make matters worse, she initially gives Callie, our eyes into the show, the brush-off.  Nothing about her screams “awesome character,” but oh, the characterizations, they are a-changin’.  (Some Mariana-related spoilers.)

Let’s be real:  when the show begins, Mariana is kind of a brat.  In addition to copping attitude with Callie, some of her other shining season one moments include 1) pocketing her brother’s Ritalin to sell at school and 2) backing down from dancing with her moms at the lavish quinceañera they throw for her.  It’s not all hopeless, though.  It isn’t long before she’s more welcoming to Callie, and she instantly regrets not dancing with Stef and Lena, making it up to them later in the evening.  And the money she gets from selling pills?  It’s to give to her junkie birth mother, who has Mariana wrapped around her manipulative little finger – a stupid and dangerous thing to do, yes, but understandable for a girl who, despite her loving family, can’t shake the feeling that she doesn’t belong like she should, that she’s not worth being wanted.

So yeah, Mariana is messed up.  She has issues and flaws, and her flaws have issues.  She pulls brain-headed moves when she gets too gaga over guys (someone told her to put her underwear in a boy’s pocket at a party, and she thought it was good advice – yeah.)  She feels uncomfortable connecting to her Mexican heritage because she feels her only link to it is her aforementioned junkie birth mother who essentially chose getting high over raising her children.  She compromises herself painfully easily in the hope of being better liked, and, along with many of the Adams Fosters, she has a talent for self-sabotage.

However, she’s also pretty great.  Some of it is seeing her learn to brave her flaws and work through her issues, but beyond that, the show has definitely taken her in cooler, more creative directions than where she was when she started.  I initially side-eyed Mariana’s “dance team” exploits in season 2.  My grounds were pretty reasonable.  She joins, not really because she’s all that interested in dancing, but as part of her desire to belong/fit in/be popular.  She attempts to mold herself into a rough copy of the other dance team girls.  When she overhears a teammate telling another girl that she only made the team due to affirmative action, she dyes her hair blond in an attempt to downplay her ethnicity.  Not having proven to be a natural dancer, she’s ready to throw her hands up and write herself off as hopeless.

Yet, in the midst of all that, Mariana keeps going.  She works her butt off, she immerses herself in the routines, and she learns not to take crap from two-faced girls who make assumptions about her.  Around the same time, she joins another school club – STEM.  As you might imagine, this one doesn’t have the same popularity associations.  Nope, Mariana joins because she’s capable, and she codes because she likes it.  By the end of season 2, she’s applying her coding skills to her dance routines to put on an incredible spectacle at competition.  And that’s what I love.  She’s girly and techie.  She’s insecure, but she’s learning to stand up for herself.  She likes to look sexy, but she doesn’t go further with guys than she’s ready to.  She’s damaged and caring, naïve and intelligent.  She’s not just one thing; she’s so much more.

Top Five Songs: Anyone Can Whistle

I haven’t written about the early Sondheim show Anyone Can Whistle before, probably because it’s super ‘60s and weird, and while I like it, so many his others are better – more melodic, more theatrical, more emotional.  However, there are some incredible songs in it.  There’s not much in theatre that’s quite like Anyone Can Whistle, and for me, this is the best it has to offer.

(Pictures are from both the original Broadway production and the 2010 Encores! cast.)

“There Won’t Be Trumpets” – Fay’s fierce but pragmatic belief in heroes is at the center of this number.  It’s the ultimate “All that is gold does not glitter” song, acknowledging that heroes are made by their deeds, not their fanfare.  Maybe it’s a bit too passive, waiting for someone to swoop in and fix things, but her sheer faith shows a kind of strength on its own, and I like that.

Best line:  “We can wait, what’s another day? / He has lots of hills to climb. / And a hero / Doesn’t come till the nick of time!”

“Simple” – A stunning scene-song, introducing us to the full force of Hapgood’s personality as he separate the sanes from the crazy.  The lyrics are crammed with twisted-logic syllogisms, and the ever-increasing layers of melody nicely parallel the chaos Hapgood is fomenting.

Best line (technically dialogue in the middle of the song, but I like it so much, I’m counting it anyway):  “They threw you out of your pulpit […]”  “Because I believed […] in God – they only believed in religion!”

“Come Play Wiz Me” – Here’s a fun, sexy love song between Hapgood and Fay, the latter of whom has grown considerably bolder thanks to a (French) disguise she’s adopted.  I like seeing Fay, who’s only used to being confident in private, losing some of her inhibitions with her new persona, and you’ve gotta like it when two people show their attraction by trading wordplay.

Best line:  “You like my style, yes? / My brand, yes? / Ze lay of my – how you say? – / Of my land, yes?”

“Everybody Says Don’t” – This solo is to die for; I love it so much.  It’s Hapgood’s anthem, his charge to Fay to stop letting other people’s limits hold her back.  The theme is gorgeous, and the melody builds so well, so triumphantly.  When I need to psych myself up, this is my go-to song.

Best line:  “Everybody says wait around for miracles, / That’s the way the world is made! / I insist on / Miracles, if you do them, / Miracles – nothing to them! / I say don’t, / Don’t be afraid!”

“See What It Gets You” – Up until now, Fay has looked to her hero, Hapgood, to save the day, but this is the moment when she realizes she can’t just sit and wait.  Heroes, she sees, can let you down, and sometimes, when the going gets toughest, all you can count on is yourself.  After relying on others and relying on disguises, Fay finally sees she has to rely on herself.

Best line:  “And if I’m not ready / And lightheaded, / I can’t stand here dumb! / So, ready or not, here – I hope – I come!”

A Few Thoughts on Black Widow in Age of Ultron

After Black Widow was such a highlight of The Avengers (and Captain America:  The Winter Soldier,) many people felt disappointed by the handling of her character in The Avengers:  Age of Ultron.  For me personally, and not to take away from anyone’s feelings on the issue, I find the situation problematic but not horrific.  In other words, at no point have I been prepared to denounce Marvel and/or Joss Whedon, but they don’t get a free pass, either.  My main reaction, like I said, is “disappointed,” not “irate.”  (Natasha-related spoilers for Age of Ultron.)

There are several sticking points responsible for the general dissatisfaction with Black Widow’s treatment in the film.  1)  Her tentative will-they-won’t-they relationship with Bruce.  2)  The revelation, brought about by a Scarlet-Witch-induced vision, that she was sterilized as an adolescent at the end of her Red Room training.  3)  Her capture in the second half of the film, which requires her to be rescued by Bruce.  I’d like to look at all three, separately and together.

Taken individually, each subplot is handled fairly well.  Natasha’s feelings for Bruce don’t alter her characterization – she’s still tough, brave, and wry – and the plot is viewed through both characters’ perspectives.  She’s not treated like an object, and her wants are central to the storyline.  Similarly, while I don’t like the sterilization reveal, I don’t think it’s badly done.  It makes sense for Natasha to dwell on it after the Scarlet Witch has been playing with her memories.  Someone who’s used to hitting first wouldn’t take kindly to having been violated, and someone who’s so self-reliant would hate having her reproductive choice taken away.  It’s unfortunate that she reveals this in the same scene that she calls herself a “monster,” but I think that’s just bad timing; it’s all tied up in her Red Room days, the years she spent killing for the bad guys, and with the monster comment, I see her talking about past crimes, not the fact that she can’t bear children.  Finally, while it’s true she gets captured and subsequently rescued, she maintains her agency throughout, immediately rigging up a signal to the rest of the team so they can find her.  Besides, she only gets caught in the first place because she’s being a grade-A boss and cares more about the mission than her own safety.  Damsel, thy name is not Black Widow.

So, while each thread is potentially uncool gender-wise, all three are done in a way that maintains the integrity of Natasha’s character.  So, my qualms aren’t with the specific handling of any one subplot but the cumulative effect of the whole.  My problem is that there’s no way that one of the male Avengers’ main story in the film would have consisted largely of a romantic connection, the reveal that they’d been forcibly sterilized, and being captured/rescued.  You may see them with one (such as Bruce’s feelings for Natasha, of course,) but never all three.  I dare say you wouldn’t see the sterilization plot at all.  You’ll see fertility-issue stories sometimes with men, which generally tie into emasculation, the idea that a “real man” can “put a baby” in a woman.  It’s about prowess, not children, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a plot where infertility is inflicted on a man against his will.   That violation seems reserved for women only.

In this way, it’s not any one thing.  It’s all of them together and the fact that this particular combination of plots would only happen with Black Widow.  That’s what I don’t like, because it makes her less “one of the six Avengers” and more “the girl Avenger.”  Yes, she’s a woman, and yes, that informs who she is, but I feel that Age of Ultron leans far too heavily on gendered plots where she’s concerned.  Here’s hoping for better in her next appearance.

Requiem (2013)

The final book in the Delirium trilogy ends, I’d say, reasonably well.  As I said in my Pandemonium review, I’m not crazy about some of the relationship developments, and for me personally, I think the story here is a bit more generic YA dystopian lit than the first two books, but in general, it hits some good beats, and the split narrative works in its favor.  Spoilers ahead.

Lena’s involvement with the uncured resistance movement is thrown for a loop by some tremendous personal upheaval.  Namely, just as she’s started to open herself to Julian, the boy whose life has been turned upside down and has joined her in the Wilds, she discovers that Alex, the boy she’d given up everything and left her home for, is still alive.  Contrary to everything she’d believed to be true, Alex was captured, not killed, in their attempt to escape, and he’s now made his way back to find her a bit ambiguously with Julian.  Lena has no idea what to do or how to handle her confused feelings regarding both boys, and all the while the rebellion seems to be coming to a head; choices have to be made and stands have to be taken, but Lena’s in a tough state of mind to think clearly about how she wants to align herself.

After splitting the story in time in the second book, jumping back and forth between two points of Lena’s post-Delirium life, Requiem experiments further with the narrative.  Here, chapters alternate between Lena’s usual perspective and that of Hana, Lena’s best friend back home.  Lena was the only character physically carried over from Delirium to Pandemonium, so it’s nice to return to Portland in this book and see characters who weren’t around in the last installment.  And even better, by this point, Hana has undergone the procedure to “cure” the deliria, so we get something entirely different:  a view into the mind of one of the cured.  We see the changes in Hana from book one, the effects the procedure has on her, the bits of her old self still simmering underneath, and her fears that the cure didn’t “take” the way it should have.  Unlike the final Divergent book, where the split narrative didn’t really work for me (if you have two different first-person perspectives, their voices should be distinct enough that I don’t forget whose chapter I’m reading,) the device expands Requiem and lets it explore interesting new territory.

The whole Lena-Alex-Julian mess is less successful.  I get that opening yourself to love involves both the sublime and the painful, so it makes sense for Lena to experience the struggle of liking two boys at once, not wanting to hurt either, and feeling guilty over the whole situation, but it feels much more commonplace to me than where I’d hoped they were going, a story between Lena and Julian about learning to love again.  I’m all but allergic to love triangles anyway, and after thinking the story was going in a different direction, it’s a disappointment to see the overused story-eater rear its angsty head once more.  And it makes me sad that Lena has to go through this crap.  It’s not Hunger-Games-love-triangle unfortunate, but it’s pretty unfortunate.

As for the dystopian side of the ending itself, I think it does a decent job.  With stories like this, it’s hard, because the tendency is to want the big rebellion to culminate in sweeping change, but watching corrupt systems topple doesn’t mean instant fix, and it’s difficult to end a story with all that complication in a way that’s manageable.  Here, the story doesn’t try to wrap up this aspect too neatly; it suggests without stating, and it avoids the temptation to skip ahead and show what it’s like after the dust settles.  The book ends in flux, pointing the characters in a particular direction but not arranging them neatly or orderly.