VOTARIES OF HORROR

Fun with Language: the Power of Connotation

2012-01-27T13:07:00.006-05:00

The English language is filled with words that have double and triple and quadruple meanings, words that change meanings within a generation, and words that alter connotations within a few years.

For instance, in the fifth installment of Mr. B Speaks! Mr. B describes lurking in a closet to spy on Pamela. This closet would not be the type of closet we have in our houses today--complete with shelves and clothes on hangers. Rather, as Leslie Quinn will tell the judge later, "A closet was a small room like a breakfast nook. With a door. It often contained books and a desk."

An 18th century prostitute:

what "sauciness" led to in the 18th century.

Another word that reoccurs over and over again in Richardson's Pamela is the word saucy or sauciness--to describe Pamela. In modern parlance, the word means nearly the same thing it did in the 1700s: cheeky, pert, flippant, bold, impudent.

What has changed is the word's connotations--the emotions and images associated with the word. The connotations for saucy in the 18th century were far more negative than they are now.

Changing connotations is an unique, lingual phenomenon that has occurred--in the modern world--with words like handicapped. The word's meaning hasn't changed in the last twenty years; rather, the word has accumulated negative feelings; in an effort to dump the negative feelings, handicapped became special (very briefly) which then became disabled. The problem, of course, is that being handicapped/disabled (and even, frankly, "special") kind of stinks, so the replacement words will continue to accumulate negative meaning, no matter how often they are changed (however, this is less true than it is used to be since there are fewer social stigmas associated with being disabled than there used to be).

Likewise, racism unfortunately exists whether someone is referred to as Negro, black, or African-American. A change in terminology cannot single-handedly effect a change in attitude.

The introduction of new terms to counteract negative connotations often leads to confusion over the current courteous and/or politically-correct term. As P.J. O'Rourke writes in All the Trouble in the World, regarding a discussion of Huckleberry Finn in a college classroom:

There was a great deal of fumbling with racial terms, among white and nonwhite students both. No one seemed exactly sure whether or when to say "black" or "African-American." How much better if we just called each other by our names.

An interesting example of reverse negative association is "Indian." I was taught in school to say Native American rather than Indian. Now the terms are used interchangeably by Native Americans and non-Native Americans alike. (It does get confusing when one is actually talking about inhabitants of India.)

My own practice is to be polite and call people what they want to be called. (I have black friends who don't like "African-American." After all, I don't refer to myself as "Anglo-Celt-American.") And also to give people a break when they get confused.

* * *

To return to Pamela: by describing Pamela as saucy, a somewhat loaded adjective, Richardson opened up the door for portrayals of Pamela as a seductive harlot out for all she could get.

Now-a-days, of course, the term has a far more positive, and youthful, connotation: "The little girl was saucy to her mother."

When it came time for me to describe Pamela, I relied on Pamela's explanation of her behavior from Pamela II. In answer to a letter from her sister-in-law, Pamela describes her faults, including her sauciness:

I am naturally of a saucy temper: and with all my appearance of meekness and humility, can resent, and sting too, when I think myself provoked.

What would you expect, she goes on to write, from someone like me who has to defend herself against so many detractors? (Richardson wrote Pamela II partly in response to criticism and partly to defend himself against plagiarists who were capitalizing on the first novel's popularity by printing "false" sequels: copyright laws were close to non-existent in Richardson's day).

In other words, Pamela gets provoked and lashes out with witty barbs before she remembers herself/her station and retreats. This is the characterization I utilized, making Pamela neither as flirtatious nor as manipulative as detractors often paint her to be.

I should note that despite (or because of) the word's negative associations in the 1700s, Mr. B enjoys Pamela's sauciness, even when he is exasperated. Whatever society's views, a writer--in this case, Richardson--can make the language work for him: at least, within the confines of the text.

Where are All the Cars? Not Getting Around in the 1700s

2012-01-20T09:24:00.005-05:00

A common argument against Pamela's innocence is "If she really is so upset about Mr. B's advances, why doesn't she just leave?"

In the fourth installment of Mr. B Speaks! Mr. B defends Pamela's failure to act by explaining that Pamela didn't have access to transportation. How was she supposed to get home?

Gentleman with His Horse

This is another difference between us and the world of the pre/early-Industrial Revolution, one so blatant yet so easily by-passed, it rather staggers the mind. So many moderns are hung up on the idea that (1) life in the historical past used to be simpler; (2) the separation between rich and poor just keeps getting bigger and bigger.

While it is true that the rich now-a-days are richer than the rich of the past, simpler is not automatically better--or fairer. The level of poverty experienced by every-day, supposedly well-off people in the 1700s is incomprehensible to just about everybody in the modern, Westernized world (and yes, I am including people who depend on soup kitchens).

There was no RTP. No buses. No bikes. Pamela couldn't climb on her moped. She couldn't call a taxi. She couldn't get a lift from a friend (not if that friend answered to someone who didn't want her to leave).

And she couldn't just go get herself a horse.

Because horses are unmechanized and bucolic and cute, many moderns (and unfortunately too many historical writers) assume that horses are also easy and cheap to care for.

Not at all.

Horses, then and now, are expensive. Remember poor Jane, sent on a soggy horse ride to visit Bingley's sisters? How her father wasn't sure if the horses were available to take her in the family carriage?


Mr. B and Pamela later go for a ride in a carriage like this one.

The horses wouldn't be available because letting even one horse sit around in a stable, doing nothing, was something only an exceptionally wealthy man could afford. Darcy can afford to keep extra horses in his stables at Pemberley, but note that Darcy doesn't bring his carriage and horses to Netherfield. He brings his horse, nothing else. Gallivanting around in a carriage is something Darcy keeps for special occasions and emergencies, not for visiting a friend.

Pamela's best hope is to get a ride with a servant--performing an errand for Mr. B on one of Mr. B's horses--or with a farmer. And neither of those options are readily available, partly because of Mr. B's influence and partly because farmers work. In fact, a truly stunning portion of the book is spent trying to figure out HOW to get hold of transportation (and then pay for it).

Compare that to the 21st century kid who works at McDonald's to pay his car insurance--because he's got to have a car. Not that I have a problem with this, any more than Eugene--cheap, easy transportation that allows one to MOVE, rather than tying one to a parcel of land, is the true democracy.

Pamela could, naturally, walk home, but circa 1740, Romantic imagery promoting the supposedly untouched, peaceful countryside was a few decades in the future. London may have been more dangerous; that didn't make the countryside safe.

Pamela has principles, but she doesn't actually want to end up raped by a highwayman. Much better to hold off her master with her wits.

Recent Publications: Fantasy, Romance, History (Sometimes Altogether!)

2012-01-18T12:25:00.001-05:00

Check out these publications!

*Just Published* "Grave Bride," a short story by Katherine Woodbury about Vikings in Northern England. These particular Vikings still practice ancient rites, such as sending a chieftain to the after-life with a bride still living.

Barely.

The magazine is Cicada, part of the Cricket Magazine Group.

*Just Released in Print* A Man of Few Words by Katherine Woodbury--my retelling of Pride & Prejudice from the perspective of the hero, Darcy.

*Recently Released* Serpent of Time by Eugene Woodbury--a fantasy novel set in authentic medieval Japan, starring a princess heroine who goes head to head with an otherworldly controller of time.

*Recently Released* Monsters & Mormons, including the short story "First Estate," a science-fiction retelling of the Book of Ruth, by Katherine Woodbury, replete with winged civilians and human aliens. This anthology is also available in print.

*More Eighteenth Century Fun*
Mr. B Speaks! by Katherine Woodbury--my satire of academe/retelling of Pamela by Samuel Richardson, told mostly from the perspective of the rogue hero, Pamela's stalker/boyfriend/fiancé/husband, Mr. B. I am currently posting chapters of this novella through Votaries of Horror with weekly historical notes.

Also check out Eugene's translation of Demon City Shinguku: The Complete Edition (Publisher: Digital Manga)!

Illegitimacy 18th Century and Now

2012-01-13T10:56:00.002-05:00

In the third installment of Mr. B Speaks!, Mr. B gets annoyed when the issue of his natural daughter's illegitimacy is openly discussed.

This reaction is almost incomprehensible to members of the modern Westernized world. So much so that within the past few years, several books have been published about how awful it was that women in the 50s were forced, by mean-spirited prejudice, to give up their children for adoption.

I can't speak for children adopted during the 50s, but I can say that from Mr. B's perspective, his refusal to openly acknowledge his out-of-wedlock daughter as his daughter-by-blood is an attempt to protect--not punish--her.

The issue in the eighteenth century was not illegitimacy per se. It was status. The illegitimate sons and daughters of kings often rose to prominence and married quite well. And nobody much cared about the illegitimate sons and daughters of peasants, who were held to a far less rigorous set of social standards by their "betters" (this wasn't out of any belief in the intrinsic merit of sexual freedom, by the way: the upper-classes overlooked peasants having illegitimate children because they thought the peasants weren't human enough to know better; one of the biggest criticisms of Pamela at the time of its publication was that Richardson would actually, gasp gasp, give a servant girl such high-falutin' ideas as wanting to wait until after the wedding--for religious and pragmatic reasons--to have sex).

However, the known illegitimate sons and daughters of the merchant, gentry, and independent farming classes of this time period had a terrible time marrying respectably (the measure of social acceptance).

Mr. Knightley chewing out Emma.

Consider, for example, Jane Austen's Emma in which Emma is convinced that Harriet is the bastard daughter of a noble person (giving Harriet the right to marry "up") when it is far more likely that Harriet is the bastard daughter of someone far lower on the social scale. When Mr. Knightley tells Emma that Harriet would be lucky to marry a prosperous farmer like Mr. Robert Martin, he isn't being cruel; he is being honest about the world he, Emma, and Harriet live in.

American society was more relaxed on this topic almost from its inception, partly because American society was composed of the merchant, gentry, farming classes (their children didn't need to marry "up") and partly because the Protestantism of early America almost immediately produced a belief in innocent childhood (in both the moral and legal sense).

English society, however, was far less kind for far longer.

Consequently, one of the nicer things about Richardson's Mr. B is the lengths he goes to to protect his natural daughter: first, he keeps her rather than sending her off with her mother to a distant country: she is given into the guardianship of his sister whom she believes to be her aunt; later, she is placed in a decent boarding-house. Her mother, who has moved to Jamaica, marries there, allowing the fiction of legitimacy to continue. In time, Pamela adopts Mr. B's natural daughter (in a non-literal sense). The girl, Sally, does eventually marry well. Does she ever guess who her father really is? Probably. But so long as the fiction of her birth is maintained, she will succeed in the social milieu her father wants for her (which milieu was substantially better than the milieu she might have ended up in otherwise).

Speaking as a modern, human product of the Westernized world, I proclaim it a very good thing that parents and children no longer feel the need to go to such lengths to avoid Mr. B's fears. Speaking as a history buff, I believe historical personages (and characters) should be judged by the difficulties of their time rather than the relaxed understanding of our time. Consequently, I've never really "bought" regency romances in which the mother reveals the truth of her natural-born child's birth to that child "out of love." My guess is the writers don't understand the internal and external burdens the natural-born child would then operate under within that society and time frame. For good and for ill, the social pressures of society--even when accompanied by absolutely no legal ramifications--are tremendously powerful.

Having written the above, I think that social pressures are accepted without constraint or feelings of betrayal when they are consistent between generations. It never occurs to Richardson (or Mr. B) to "fight the system." The issue with 50s babies is that the social pressures changed so rapidly--from less pressure to more pressure to considerably less pressure--within a single generation. The social pressures were never completely assimilated and therefore became objectionable in a way that much earlier generations would never have felt.

Sliders v. Stargate: Why Stargate is Better, Part II

2012-01-12T12:45:00.003-05:00

As stated in my previous post, I will be comparing a Sliders episode to a Stargate episode:

Sliders: "Prince of Wails"--the gang shows up on a world where the British won the Revolutionary War, and the Sheriff of San Francisco is trying to overtake the throne (think Robin Hood). The gang stops him, helped by American Revolutionaries and a repentant prince.

Stargate: "Beneath the Surface"--the gang is trapped in a world where they have been brainwashed to believe they are part of a society recovering from an extreme Ice Age when actually they are slave-workers.

(a) The Slider world entails a greater suspension of disbelief .

From the descriptions above, this doesn't seem likely. But it is. Even if the Brits won the Revolutionary War, British society was already moving towards a constitutional democracy in the 18th century. A British America would be more like, well, Canada, than some medieval throw-back.

Now, I will grant that the "underground workers" motif is also rather overdone and slightly ridiculous. Where the Stargate writers come out ahead of the Sliders writers here is that they give their bad guy reasons that are entirely sensible within the bad guy's narrow worldview. He doesn't want to create problems with Earth; he also doesn't want to change his society's structure. After all, what would his society do with all those workers if they were let out?

(b) The gang convinces the terrorist rebels in Sliders to follow Quinn.

How many terrorist organizations do you know simply accept a new bunch of people with no prior credentials or previous terrorist behavior and put them in charge?

Yes, the answer is zero.

Any closed, paranoid system is riddled with rivalries, inside politics, and ladder-climbing. New people--including in the U.S. Senate--rarely walk in and just start running things.

In Stargate, SG-1 are the rebels. They don't convince anyone to follow them; they just convince each other.

(c) The rebellion in Sliders is enthused by Quinn's idealism: rob the rich to give to the poor.

In Stargate, on the other hand, the other workers don't want to rebel, and they treat SG-1 like undependable mavericks. When the SG-1 members do rebel, they don't rebel in terrorist ways. Their goal, for most of the episode, is to keep the underground society working: survival is more important than idealism.

SG-1's dissatisfaction with the system begins when brainwashed Samantha Carter suggests to the higher-ups a way to make the equipment run more efficiently. After she is turned down for, unbeknownst to her, political reasons on the surface, she becomes suspicious. Her suspicions fuel the other SG-1 members' questions and their eventual rebellion.

In other words, if this really was an underground society recovering from an extreme Ice Age, SG-1 would eventually take over anyway, just because they are the most competent people in the society.

(d) All tension in the Sliders episode is due to the team needing to save the rebels before they slide. It is entirely external.

In contrast, the Stargate tension is caused by the behavior/interactions of SG-1.

If the SG-1 members just accepted their brainwashing and went on working, there would be no main plot. There is a respectable subplot in which General Hammond becomes more and more suspicious about the disappearance of his team, and, perhaps, eventually, SG-1 would have been found. But the actual episode is less about the imposition of an external problem (evil bad guys) and more about the team members dealing with an internal problem (who are we? why is this society so badly run? are we actually meant for something better?).

In other words, the friendship of SG-1 is the main material of the episode, not rallying the troops to fight back! Working through the problem matters more than confronting the bad guy who isn't confronted until the very end in an extremely short scene.

To summarize, in general, Stargate episodes are more about the problem and less about the chase. And that I like.

Here are some not bad Sliders episodes--although the concepts behind some of these are extremely silly, the episodes focus on the problem (mostly), not the chase:

"Eggheads" (1.6)
"The Weaker Sex" (1.7)
"The King is Back" (1.8)
"Luck of the Draw" (1.9)
"Love Gods" (2.2)

You may note the episodes are all from Seasons 1 and 2 when John Rhys-Davies was still a powerhouse on the show. He is one of the most excellent aspects of Sliders!

Sliders v. Stargate: Why Stargate is Better, Part 1

2012-01-10T13:06:00.004-05:00

I recently started watching Sliders again after many years. As with Stargate, I enjoyed Sliders when it first came out, stopped watching (probably because I lost access to a television), forgot about it, then resumed watching over a decade later.

The difference: I'm now a Stargate fan; I re-lost interest in Sliders after a dozen episodes.

On paper, this shouldn't be so. Both shows involve single-stories for most of their initial season episodes (I prefer single stories to ongoing arcs). Both shows have a fairly enjoyable scooby gang. Both shows' devices deliver both fantasy and science-fiction plots.

However, there are differences, and ultimately, those differences account for my lack of interest in Sliders.

The listed differences below all refer to Sliders:

(1) The overuse of the "save civilization through revolt" premise.

Every other, if not every, Sliders episode goes something like this: the gang shows up in a world that is corrupt in some way; the gang finds the underlying rebel group, supports it, and somehow leads it to victory.

Now, to be fair, Stargate includes a fair share of these episodes although, in general, the Stargate writers are rather better at implying things aren't that easily fixed; bad guys just don't fold; they do need to be blown up.

Still, SG-1 does spend a tremendous amount of time encouraging people to revolt against the Goa'uld.

The major difference: a Stargate episode concentrates on the discovery of the problem rather than on the revolt. Idealistic people being lead to revolt is, frankly, rather boring. Les Miserables' plot of Jean Valjean and Javert is two billion times more interesting than the leader of the students being stupid and getting everyone shot. (What makes the American Revolution so interesting, in my mind, is how surprisingly hard-headed and pragmatic the "rebels" were. The French Revolution, on the other hand, just makes me tired: idealism, corrupt idealism, more corrupt idealism . . . Napoleon. Okay, can it stop now?)

(2) Wade being in love with Quinn.

Within about two episodes of Sliders, it becomes clear that the writers didn't really think through the whole Wade-Quinn equation. They actually wanted Quinn to be a kind of love-them-and-leave-them type, and having Wade along for the ride--the girl Quinn continually rejects by pursuing other women--makes Wade look somewhat pathetic and Quinn rather confused (since he is also supposed to also be harboring affection for Wade).

In reality, if Quinn were not a Lothario, he would hook up with Wade simply because there isn't anybody else comparably steady on his horizon. The fact that he doesn't . . . makes no sense.

In comparison, Stargate Samantha Carter's affection for Jack--while steadily maintained through several seasons--never gets in the way of her having a life (I consider Carter one of the most together female characters on all of television; yeah, she even beats out Scully and Bones). Also, the reason for the non-consummated relationship make sense: military rules and, frankly, Jack's incredible detachment. Carter may hold a torch for him, but she isn't an idiot. And she's got plenty of other things to do.

(3) Possibly the biggest problem with Sliders is the underlying plot device of the slide. Every episode is a "got to solve the problem before . . ." plot: every, single one.

The irony here is that the writers treated the device of location as a deficiency--when it really wasn't--but not the timing device. In Season 3, the writers changed the underlying location rules to include all of California, not just San Francisco; this actually took away some of the show's coolness--the ways in which a single city can be altered by historical events. Without this ongoing issue, the episodes could be set anywhere: different planets, the past, the future, Mars, someone's mind. The idea of parallelism became a non-issue.

Meanwhile, the "have to slide in X hours" device continued to plague the show. Every episode is about corralling the characters, so they can leap. EVERY EPISODE. This results in lots and lots of running around, lots and lots of chase scenes, lots and lots of rescuing people at the last minute . . .

One or two episodes of this type is fine. Stargate (and Star Trek: TNG) did their own share of "got to get away before the sun/planet/starship explodes" plots--just not every single episode. AND both Stargate and Star Trek: TNG used different solutions to get away. With Sliders, sliding is the solution--every time.

(4) The premise of searching for home is weak.

Yes, I know, this is Star Trek: Voyager's premise, but Star Trek: Voyager's premise makes sense because (a) it is actually possible within the confines of the show--since in Star Trek, space operates in a straight line, if the ship just keeps moving in one direction, it will eventually get home; (2) it is actually possible to shorten the trip; (3) the characters are already under the control of a benevolent dictator--that is, they are already part of an organization controlled by a single authority (Captain Janeway), so her insistence that she knows what is best for them makes sense psychologically.

But the first two seasons of Sliders continually underscore the idea that getting home is practically impossible, and the Earths that the characters encounter are increasingly out of sync with their original reality. Why not just stay somewhere? Why continue to follow Quinn who has no authority over the others?

I understand that at the end of Season 3, the Sliders writers inserted a new premise for leaping: the pursuit of the bad guy. However, this makes the show a serial, which I don't care for. (I endure The Mentalist by ignoring the Red John episodes as non-canon.)

Stargate, on the other hand, has the premise of protecting the planet the characters happen to live on plus the premise of FUN. When Daniel gets all archaeological and Jack starts talking about blowing things up, fun is what they are talking about: let's go explore places because it is a HOOT!

As my reviews of Stargate indicate, the show does become more and more serial after Season 4, and I have less interest in the later seasons. Still, the serial nature of SAVE THE EARTH makes substantially more sense than PURSUE THE BAD GUY. The latter becomes wearisome since not catching the bad guy is boring and almost catching the bad guy but continually just missing is aggravating and manipulative. The Earth, on the other hand, can be saved over and over and over.

In Part II, I will compare a Sliders episode to a Stargate episode.

Getting Married in the 18th Century (and Earlier!)

2012-01-06T12:02:00.007-05:00

In Installment 2 of Mr. B Speaks! Leslie Quinn--the popular non-fiction writer--comments that 12 was the legal age for marriage in the 18th century.

While this is true--despite the wince it causes--innocent teen girls were not married off to grumpy elderly men (or youthful teen boys to robbing-the-cradle elderly ladies) as often as you might think.

According to G.J. Meyer, writing about the 16th century, during hard agricultural times, merchants and farmers actually married "in their mid-twenties or later." Even amongst the nobility, later marriages were not uncommon. Although Henry VII's mother was married at age 12 and bore Henry VII at age 13, she didn't bear any more children, likely due to complications with Henry VII's birth. Medievals may have been callous (debatable), but they weren't stupid. If you wanted kids, you waited for maturity to hit. (During the divorce between Henry VIII and his first wife, Catherine, those against the divorce argued that Catherine's prior marriage to Arthur, Henry VIII's brother, was never consummated. This is not unlikely: Arthur was sickly and may not have undergone puberty despite Catherine and Arthur both being approximately 15 when they married.)

However, while not condoning the marriage of early adolescents (and not all parents at the time did), the denouncement of the act as perverse would have confused anybody up until the 20th century. When middle-age is 35, old-age is 50, and princes are leading armies at 18, getting married at, say, 13 wouldn't seem quite so strange and icky as it does now.

In any case, as suggested above, marriage, at least for the nobility, was as much a political maneuver as a sexual one. Mr. B's sister marries "up" by marrying a lord despite the fact that Mr. B is far wealthier than all the other characters both in Richardson's novel and in my adaptation. For you Pride & Prejudice fans, Darcy is a step up from Bingley--whose father was in trade--but not as far up the scale as someone with a title.

Even without titles, the landed, untitled gentry of the 18th and early 19th centuries considered themselves--justifiably--to be far more powerful and far more respected in their small enclaves than the average aristrocrat. This would change by the mid-19th century after which dozens of wealthy Americans would pursue English marriages on behalf of their daughters for titles rather than for land or money.

These 18th century ladies, Lady Georgiana Cavendish, and Elizabeth Foster Cavendish both married at 17. When Elizabeth--or Bess's--husband died, she moved in with Georgiana and shared her husband whom she married after Lady Georgiana's death.

The First English Novel

2011-12-30T08:30:00.009-05:00

I recently reread my novella Mr. B Speaks! and, what do you know, I liked it! (This is a very useful reaction with one's own writing.)

So I have taken a "page" out of Eugene's blog and will be posting sections of Mr. B Speaks! (slightly revised) over the next few months accompanied by historical notes. These sections will appear under the MR. B SPEAKS! tab.

The story begins with Mr. B being pulled out of his novel into the "real" world to be tried for his supposed crimes as a rake. He is pulled out just after the birth of his third child. This event is referenced in Pamela, Volume II by Samuel Richardson. Pamela, Vol. II; or Pamela's Conduct in High Life details Mr. B and Pamela's life together as a married couple while the first volume, Pamela; or Virtue Rewarded--upon which Mr. B Speaks! is based--details their courtship and first few weeks of marriage. The two books were published approximately a year apart.

Both books were wildly popular in the 18th century although the first book was more popular and lasted longer (basically, think Star Wars IV: A New Hope and Star Wars V: The Empire Strikes Back). Although Wikipedia claims Richardson wrote his classic (and currently, better-known) novel Clarissa because interest in Pamela was wavering, it would be more accurate to say Richardson wrote Clarissa because he figured out with Pamela what he was trying to do. Clarissa is more novel-like (and much, much longer) than Pamela.

However, Pamela bears the merit of being the first English romance novel and, for many people, the first full English novel, being told from a character's point of view, containing a clear plot structure (rising and falling action) and being its own reward--that is, the story is told for the sake of the story, not to support a travelogue or satire or sermon. Granted, Richardson skirts the line on the latter.

Agatha Christie was Right and So are Romance Paperbacks

2011-12-17T20:14:00.007-05:00

In the recent BBC version of The Mystery of the Blue Train, the rogue husband of the murdered victim does NOT pursue the book's staid, grey-eyed heroine.

He does in the book.

I was disappointed by this alteration and considered it another example of how much the writers of the latest BBC Poirots don't "get" Agatha Christie. Don't get me wrong: I love the series, and some of the movies are pretty good--but like a great deal of television/movies/literary literature in the last decade, the stories are often edited to prevent the rogue from getting the girl.

Which is not in-line with Christie's vision.

It isn't that she was especially devoted to rogues. What makes her so entirely unique (and different from Marsh, who used the same romantic couple over and over and over, and from Sayers, who was only really concerned with one romantic couple) is that she believed in the individuality of love. She was willing to allow (in a very English tolerant way) that every relationship has its own vibe. Sometimes the good guy gets the good gal (4:50 to Paddington). Sometimes the adventurous guy gets the adventurous gal (Cards on the Table). Sometimes a tough strident woman gets a dreamer (Hercule Poirot's Christmas). Sometimes a passionate couple realize that they are actually also friends (Moving Finger). Sometimes the bad husband gets his wife back (Mysterious Affair at Styles). Sometimes the passionate exuberant gal really does want the limp, waffling idiot (Sittaford Mystery). Sometimes the girl-in-love-with-the-aloof-man learns to love someone more compassionate and real (Sad Cypress). Sometimes the taciturn brute gets the matter-of-fact Wren (Taken at the Flood).

And sometimes the rogue gets the princess.

I have found it downright refreshing how much the latter is allowed to happen lately, even in Disney. A perusal of teen fiction will tell you that not only is the rogue alive and well, he is flourishing, and nobody is being apologetic about it. Books like Jane by April Lindner (based on Jane Eyre) and The Hollow Kingdom by Clare Dunkle don't reform the supposed rogue-villain to be the "right kind of guy" but rather use him in all his roguery.

Now, I admit that like many people I find rogues such as stalky Edward somewhat problematic--although my problems with Twilight have always been more about the boringness of the heroine, rather than the bad-boy behavior of America's best-known vampire. However, the plot solution is for the rogue to grow up, not for the rogue to stop being himself.

The wrong solution (the rogue stops being himself or else) was one (of several) mistake made by the Buffy writers towards the end of Buffy's run: Spike is a bad-boy, ooh, we don't want to send the wrong message to teenage girls: Buffy and he mustn't have a real relationship!

Yeah, just check out the fan-fiction and see how well that little message of good behavior went across.

The truth is, a rogue without compassion and loyalty--a Flynn who actually does sail away--would be completely unappealing to any woman/human being (one hopes). But--and this is why the terribly insightful and human and well-lived/well-loved Agatha Christie rises above all other writers--creating a relationship where the gal is completely willing to take on the rogue with all his roguery . . . that works.

The solution is not to make the rogue less masculine or less clever or less edgy or less prone to hit people or less aggressive or less assertive or less insert-quality-usually-associated-with-rogues-and-men but, rather, to create couples that complement (not "compliment," as Bones points out to Booth though that is nice too) each other.

I will grant that not all writers can pull this off. Stalky Edward needs to get a new, more interesting, hobby. But some can. And nobody gets tired of it.

Which is why romance paperbacks will never, ever, ever die.

Ruminating on Animal Experimentation while Reviewing Project X

2011-12-02T13:16:00.005-05:00

In keeping with the current list on the Mike-Kate Video Club, I recently watched Project X with Matthew Broderick (two of the films on the list star Broderick: War Games and Ferris Bueller's Day Off).

The movie surprised me, mostly for how much I got invested in the fate of the chimps.

For those of you who don't remember, the plot of Project X is that chimpanzees are being trained to fly machines, then exposed to lethal amounts of radiation to see how much longer they will keep flying. Pilot Jimmy Garrett decides to save a particular chimp, Virgil.

I should state now, upfront, that I am not opposed to animal experimentation. I think it is kind of pointless with things like cosmetics. I think it is downright meritorious with things like cancer research.

I should also state that I have never been a huge fan of anthropomorphizing animals in fiction or real life. In fiction, I run out of interest. In real life, I think it is unfair and disrespectful to the animal. A cat is a cat, not a human in fur. Chimpanzees, no matter how many genes they hold in common with humans, are chimpanzees.

By the way, the respecting-animals-for-being-animals-not-cute-humans ideology doesn't prevent me from eating steak.

So I basically anticipated that Project X would be a long screed about how bad and immoral and evil animal experimentation is blah, blah, blah. (I saw it when I was younger but had forgotten everything except that monkeys--well, chimps--were involved.)

It isn't a long screed. Yeah sure, that message is in there. But the message relies not on stoic idealists spouting their opinions but on the viewer becoming invested in the chimpanzees' fate.

This actually works. I was stunned. I was sad when Goliath died--I think I actually cried. I was worried about the chimps getting away. I wanted them to be free!

This is all due to how the story is told--from the inside out. The audience learns things as Garrett (Broderick) learns and experiences things. He gets interested in teaching Virgil. He sees the radiation test. He is uncomfortable with it. The entire story unfolds as a slow emotional web that gets you invested without telling you to get invested.

The one off-note is when Broderick tries to stop the second test (on Virgil) by breaking in on the head honchos and arguing against it. In terms of plot, the scene makes sense. Garrett isn't put forward as an orator or a protester. He just doesn't want the animal he trained to die.

And he makes the same argument that, what do ya know, Broderick's character made in War Games: "You can't compare the chimps to humans; the chimps will keep flying, but the humans won't because they will know they are going to die."

The first part of this argument is actually correct: You can't compare the reaction of chimps to humans--and a computer model quite frankly would be more effective here (computer models are used instead of animal testing quite often these days).

The second part of the argument is wrong, and it is the one false note in the movie. Well, okay, the sign language and flying-the-plane stuff is a little out there, but the movie establishes those outcomes as givens, so I accept them.

But otherwise, the chimps in the movie actually act just like chimps (and at one point, trash the lab, which is fun). They act, in other words, like animals rather than humans.

And animals do not do well with stress. Animals do not do well with illness. Animals will die from straight shock and pain.

Humans, on the other hand, can go amazingly heroic things despite extraordinarily adverse conditions because their brains decide that they should. They keep flying because they believe they are protecting something higher (their country). They live longer because they believe they have a purpose. They fight the effects of illness because they don't want others to pay for their mistakes.

Believing that animals should be treated humanely is a civilized belief. But it immediately loses credence when people try to tell me animals are as good as or better than humans. Animals are animals, and if they were ever actually tried by the moral standards of humans, they would all be labeled psychopaths. When a young lion takes over an older lion's pack, he doesn't send the older lion to a retirement home or give it charity antelopes. He basically forces the older lion to starve itself to death.

Okay, put that in human terms and think about how it makes you feel.

Ewwww is the normal reaction.

But as animals, lions--and chimpanzees--can be utterly adorable, and Project X is a well-told story, using adorable (trained) animals, that never forgets to be a story.

I'm starting to think the 1980's has a lot to say for itself in terms of strong film narratives!

Guest Blogger: Mike Discusses The Problem With Comic Books

2011-11-18T13:56:00.000-05:00

When first introduced to comic books, I fell in love when Marvel Comics. The series that hooked me was called "What If?" It always explored a variation on the events that had transpired in the Marvel Universe. Story-lines, such as "What if the Avengers had fought Galactus?" or "What if Wolverine became Lord of the Vampires?" were regularly explored and followed to an often tragic end. What thrilled me about these comics was how they played with an established, concrete history. I didn’t know it at the time, but what I really loved about the Marvel Universe was its incredible sense of continuity.

You would often see a character from another comic passing someone like Peter Parker or Tony Stark on the sidewalk. A little footnote below would exclaim "What is the Human Torch doing in Queens? Check out this month’s Fantastic Four for the scoop!" These characters lived in a connected world. Often a character would not be present in the book he guest-starred in because he was busy in his own comic or off teaming up with another hero. The writers seemed to realize and care about continuity, about what was happening, and when, in the world of Marvel Comics. And I was an addict.

In the last few years, this has all changed. The current head of Marvel Comics, who was hired around 10 years ago now, issued a new decree for the formerly continuity- heavy Marvel Comics: "Continuity can be ignored for the purpose of a good story." It was, for Marvel at least, a revolutionary concept. Suddenly, Spider-Man and Wolverine were EVERYWHERE. The problem is that while it worked for sales, the overall quality of the writing suffered once continuity was no longer respected. "A good story" seemed to be confused for "A story that sells like hotcakes."

Along with this sudden freedom, the comic industry also learned something evil. They realized that any time they changed the status quo, their sales picked up. Phrases like "The end of an Era!" or "The beginning of a new legacy!" began gracing the covers of more and more comics. You had Team and Roster changes, heroes donning new names and costumes, heroes dying in big, publicized events and then returning, triumphantly resurrected, having fought their way back from the grave to defend their homes. These days, heroes die all the time, and their resurrection may only be months hence.

When Captain America died a few years ago, it was a pretty big deal. The entire Marvel Universe was shaken, with every hero talking about it, going to the funeral, and dealing with the reality of emotional loss. There was an incredible mini-series published at the time--Fallen Son: The Death of Captain America--which shows different heroes, such as Iron Man, Spider-Man, and Wolverine, each dealing with a different aspect of the grieving process. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance are explored in a single issue, and it’s truly an emotional and moving book.

About a year after Cap’s death, Thor used his great power to summon the spirit of Steve Rogers and visit with him. Moved by the Captain’s sadness at the use of his death for political agendas, Thor flies into high orbit, and uses lightning to silence every satellite broadcasting coverage of the anniversary of Cap’s death for one minute. One full minute of peace for his fallen friend. Again, the story was emotionally fulfilling and moving. It brought real weight to events of a fictional world. These comics not only made me miss the Captain, but also truly appreciate what the world had become after his loss.

And then, they brought him back. "Cap isn’t dead!" they told us. "He was just lost in time! See his return in the new mini-series, 'Captain America Reborn!'"

And suddenly, those wonderful, emotionally moving, and incredibly well-written books reflecting the death of Captain America lost all significance. They were rendered obsolete. Why would someone read a reflective piece on the life and death of an individual that’s still alive?

Death in comics has become a revolving door that nearly every character will pass through, disappearing for a short time before returning completely unscathed. It’s hard for a reader such as myself to really care much these days when a traumatic event comes to pass for a beloved character. They died? Aw, they’ll be back in a few months. No big deal. The most glaring example of just how bad things are in the world of comics is that even Spider-Man’s Aunt May and Batman’s butler Alfred have both died and returned. Let’s consider this. Aunt May. Really.

I think the main problem is this: If an event has no lasting impact on the life of a character, then it is of no importance to the reader either. Continuity must not only exist, it must be respected. If an event takes place, its consequences must be real and lasting. When you remove the consequences, you remove the meaning of the event.

For continuity to truly work, and for the life, adventures, and tragedies of a character to truly matter, there must be a clear beginning, middle, and end. Not only must the end be clearly defined in relationship to events, it must be defined in time as well. When that cycle comes to an end, you can begin another. Maybe it’s a new character; perhaps it’s the child of the hero. But the life of a fictional character, especially that of a comic character, cannot continue indefinitely as it has in the past and have any credibility or structural stability.

One of my favorite comic runs in the last few years was Joss Whedon’s Astonishing X-Men. Completely free of the continuity of the X-Men comics that were being printed at the time, Whedon's comic explored a wonderful story that touched on many classic moments of the X-Men’s past. The series, while amazing, exemplifies both the problem and the solution to Marvel's continuity chaos. The series did rely on the pasts of the X-Men featured, but while there was a clear beginning, middle and end, it did not have a clear place in the overall continuity of the X-Men timeline.

Furthermore, while the comic featured emotional growth for many of the characters, some events were spoiled by story-line ramifications appearing in other comics published before those events happened in the main series. Many events featured in the series, such as a long awaited relationship between two characters and the "death" of a hero, have since been undone; the relationship ended, the dead resurrected. Again. Perhaps most problematic is that the series actually featured the resurrection of a long missing character. (However, the character had been out of print for some time, and his resurrection did not undo what his death had accomplished.)

Unfortunately, when continuity does appear in the Marvel Universe these days, it has no real weight. Sure, if it will help sell a comic; a hero might cross over into the big company-wide story. But often, events are written and then ignored or undone according to what the sales figures dictate.

Any event that happens in the life of a character must be true to what he has experienced before and effect what he does in the future. The story must be the most important consideration. What does this story say? What did the character learn? How did he learn or grow? Once the sales of a series outweigh the importance of the story itself, the reader suffers, and the work suffers. Strong characters deserve not only strong stories, but a strong history and complete timeline. Without these things, comics will continue as literary garbage heaps, continually piling and piling yp until the audience is drowned in useless waste.

It’s time for Marvel Comics to change. And not just another reboot like DC’s "New 52" that graced shelves in the last couple months. Restarting continuity from scratch may resolve past problems, but it will still leave writers open to future problems. Soon this new, fresh slate will become as muddled and confusing as it was before. The future of comics, and other continuity-based entertainment, lies not in it's perpetuity, but rather in its end. By introducing complete character timelines (ending with death/retirement), and perhaps redesigning each story arc to function as its own graphic novel, the integrity of the characters and the stories being told would be strengthened and reinvigorated. Instead of following a character doing the same thing over and over for years without end, future comic readers can have complete epics featuring heroes whose lives are worth caring about, remembering, and, who knows, inspiring others.

Papa Whedon's Influence

2011-11-08T17:30:00.005-05:00

Tom Whedon became an associate/supervising producer of Golden Girls in Season 5. This is one of the best seasons of Golden Girls. It also marks a slight change in the humor used on the show. Don't get me wrong: Seasons 1-4 are funny. But Seasons 5 on have, well, that Whedon Family touch.

It's hard to explain the difference (unless you are a Joss Whedon fan), but it's the difference between the cute funniness of say, Charmed, the Thin Man dialog funniness of Bones (which I quite like), and the ultra tongue-in-cheek funniness of Buffy. Season 5 of Golden Girls gains that tongue-in-cheek edge.

For example, Rose's St. Olaf's stories, while as outrageous, become so outlandishly satirical, they catch you off guard. Here is a story from Season 3 and one from Season 5:

Rose (3.15): I remember when I was a little girl back in St. Olaf. There was this old lady who lived up the street. She never smiled. I mean, she always looked angry. The kids said she'd kill anyone who even stepped on her property. We used to call her Mean Old Lady Hickenlooper. It turns out she had no smiling muscles. I explained to her that a smile is just a frown upside down. From then on, whenever I passed by, she would stand on her head and wave . . .

Rose (5.1): You know, there are all sorts of things that people get that doctors can't diagnose. Gustav Lundqvist got sick from something mysterious, and he nearly died - well, he did die, in fact. Then at the cemetery, Beatrice Lundqvist, his wife, kept screaming, "He's alive! He's alive! I can hear him from the grave!" Well, everyone thought it was the hallucinations of a grieving widow, so they sedated her. But when she woke up from her sedation, she told them that he had said from the grave, "We never paid our '78 through '86 income taxes!" And his partner said, "Only Gustav would know that! He must be alive!" So, they all raced to the cemetery, and the entire town started digging like crazy, kneeling by the grave, using their hands even, dirt flying and Beatrice screaming. And when they opened that coffin, there he was...dead as a doornail. The point is, Gustav didn't die from his mysterious disease at all! He lived and recovered. The trouble is, he recovered while he was buried, so by the time they got to him, he'd died of suffocation. Another tragic aspect was, the IRS was waiting at the cemetery to arrest Gustav's partner, Bergstrom. So, Bergstrom killed himself right then and there, by grabbing the gun from Sheriff Tokqvist and shooting himself. What they did then was, since the grave was still open, and everyone was right there, and Gustav and Bergstrom had been partners, they put Bergstrom in with Gustav and had a double burial. Unfortunately, later they found out that Bergstrom wanted to be cremated.

The first story is funny (and silly), but the second one includes a degree of wacky irony that I've only ever seen in Son Whedon.

And I've wondered, How much was Son Whedon influenced by Papa Whedon? Or does humor just run in families? Or were Papa Whedon and Son Whedon discussing Roseanne and Golden Girls over the dinner table in 1989?

Another similarity is between Son Whedon's Buffy women and the Golden Girls (whose personalities are solidified in Season 5).

For example, Rose and Willow could be aunt and niece. They are both lovable innocents who deep-down have fiercely competitive spirits. Both may blurt out surprisingly caustic thoughts when pushed.

Blanche, more than in the other seasons, gains an Anya/Cordelia say-it-like-it-is quality in her outspokenness:

Blanche (5.2): And the thing is, after all this, I've decided not to sell my book. It's too good to sell. They can publish it after I'm dead, like Vincent van Gogh.

Dorothy: Van Gogh was a painter, Blanche.

Blanche: Whatever. It's all the same thing. We're all artists, we're all misunderstood. He cut off his hair; maybe I'll cut off mine.

Dorothy: He cut off his ear.

Blanche: [after a beat] I have too many earrings...I can trust you, Rose. You're from Minnesota. People from Minnesota are honest; they don't lie. What could you possibly find to lie about on a farm? Lots of lakes and nice pale people. Read, Rose, don't talk. [as Rose reads] I must publish a guide to go with my book: it's too full of references people could not possibly understand. It will be taught in universities.

Rose: Blanche, you are exhausted. You have to sleep.

Blanche: "To sleep, perchance to dream..." [gasps] My God, what a wonderful line! Oh! I'm getting so good, I can't stand it! I ought to write it in my book, that line. What do you think, Rose? What page are you on?

Rose: Well, to tell you the truth, Blanche, I don't understand any of this. It doesn't seem to make any sense.

Blanche: You're from Minnesota. What have you read, for God's sake? Silas Marner? Paul Bunyan? Give me back my book. This is why Hollywood won't get it, either. I won't have my words coming out of Glenn Close's mouth. I'd rather die!

Dorothy, with her sarcasm and eye-rolling competency, and tiny Sophia, with her pointed bon mots, together make the perfect mirror to Buffy!

I won't push my argument any further. It is, I will grant, something of a stretch. But you know, if the Whedons were writing clever 19th century French novels, there would be an entire subculture of literary analysis devoted to comparing father and son.

Maybe it is just as well they write for television.

Academic Spoofs in Pamela tribute, Mr. B Speaks!

2011-10-26T19:17:00.008-04:00

Mr. B Speaks! is partly a spoof. Mr. B has to defend his marriage to Pamela against a group of academics, and I used their objections/conversation to spoof a number of silly academic ideas I've encountered as both a student and an instructor.

My primary spoof is of "just call me Gary" Gary. Gary is the type of professor who thinks he is edgy and contemporary and prides himself for climbing on the latest political bandwagon. Unfortunately, Gary is not a complete construct (an image of pompous academe rather than a representative of actual academic members). I've met Gary. The following passage from Mr. B Speaks! summarizes Gary's attitudes:

"The whole novel is nothing but trite and shallow pandering,” Gary declaimed. “What about death, disease, poverty, slavery, racism—all the terrible issues of the eighteenth century? Hmm? I mean women couldn’t even vote! But no, we’re fixated on watching an inconsequential couple tie the knot. People hid their heads in the sand. Just like they do today.”
Deborah said, “That sounds like the end of a lecture,” and Gary reddened.

Dorothy is Gary's nemesis. She is a young reviewer of romance novels, and she mirrors the attitude of a number of my young female students. They are completely blithe about their place/role in society. They don't feel put-upon. They take for granted that a woman can do whatever she wants in terms of a career/future. They don't feel the need to back "women's" issues or vote to support only female politicians.

From my point of view, the Dorothys of the world are what feminism is all about! However, someone like Gary--a chauvinist who thinks he isn't because he adopted the right "feminist" attitudes back in the 60's--the Dorothys of the world are a massive, scary threat.

Gary was trying to reprimand the young, romantic girl, Deborah. Personally, Mr. B would try flirting with her, but the man just blathered on about himself.
“So,” Mr. B heard the ridiculous man say, “I guess you’re one of those young ladies who adores authors like Jane Austen.”
“Sure,” Deborah said.
“I will grant, she is an important female writer.”
“Walter Scott believed no author matched Jane Austen at describing ordinary life and personalities.”
“Yes. Well. But won’t you admit that, despite her ability and her importance to women’s literature, Austen was mired in middle class values?”
Mr. Shorter, Mr. B's solicitor, leaned over to Mr. B and said, “What kind of gallantry is that man employing?”
“He isn’t,” Mr. B said, rubbing his temples. “He’s Polonius.”
“I like middle class values,” Deborah said.
“Of course you would say that,” the professor said in an irritated voice. Apparently, the professor didn’t like being contradicted.
And Mr. B was against female free-thinkers?
The professor said snippily, “I bet you wish you were Elizabeth, hmm, being chased by that handsome Darcy?”
“Not really,” Deborah said. “A lot of women do read books that way. And men too. Sort of what would I do? But I like to explore the author’s characterizations. Like Mr. B is way more of a homebody than most people picture him. Of course, he served in Parliament, but I think that was just out of a sense of obligation.”
Mr. Shorter snorted, but Mr. B couldn’t disagree. Except that a home without Pamela wasn’t much of a home.
“I’m sure Mr. B is quite conservative in his politics,” the professor said disdainfully.
“You could ask him,” Deborah said.
There was a short silence. Mr. B smiled to himself. The professor was a coward. He probably gravitated to female scholars because they were less trained in rhetoric and therefore easier to bully.
Deborah said, “Or Leslie Quinn. She might know.”
Some female scholars, that is. Mr. B laughed out loud. He glanced over his shoulder.
The professor was crimson. He didn’t look at Mr. B but hunched his shoulders and glared at Deborah, who was trying not to giggle. “I suppose progressive thinking is too much to ask from computer-obsessed students.”
Mr. Shorter muttered, “These Literary Fairness folks aren’t the most tolerant people.”

The "I'm pro-woman--how dare a woman contradict me with her conservative ideas!" attitude is, I'm sorry to say, real (though fading).

Leslie Quinn and Dr. Matchel (another member of the Committee for Literary Fairness) represent the two sides of Women's Studies, Dr. Matchel representing the negative or more narrow side. I'm actually kinder to her than I am to Gary because, like many disenchanted feminists, I believe that Women Studies started out with good intentions. I even believe there are decent Women Studies scholars. But the need to have an agenda/political purpose hurt more than helped that discipline.

Dr. Matchel, for example, is the kind of feminist who will support a CAUSE, no matter how very faulty, simply because it is pro-women. Thus her attitude towards Deborah--

Dr. Matchel cried, “These romance novels have done more to undermine women’s rights than any other type of literature.”
“Oh, that’s old-school,” Deborah said. “Like people who think women should only have supported Hillary in 2008.”

Again, Dr. Matchel is quite real. The above exchange is based on an actual exchange I saw on PBS during the 2008 Democratic convention.

Dr. Matchel is off-set by Leslie Quinn, who has the right academic credentials but writes for the popular rather than academic press (i.e. she actually makes money at her writing). Dr. Matchel and Gary's contempt for "popular" writers is, unfortunately, also quite real as is their discomfort with people who haven't jumped through all the right academic hoops (just recently, I've been placed in the uncomfortable position of having to defend my teaching credentials--my expertise of over five years teaching at multiple institutions--against people who automatically devalue adjuncts due to our supposed lack of education classes; yeah, that makes sense).

In the courtroom, there is also a gruff judge (who prefers murder mysteries and is only sitting in judgment on an eighteenth-century novel because so many eighteenth-century novels are under attack), a therapist (member of the Committee for Literary Fairness who wants to personalize everything), and Lonquist, a librarian. Lonquist is a member of Readers for Authorial Intent. His job is to pose (my) objections to literary revisionism. In the following exchange, the Committee for Literary Fairness wants contemporary--that is, their--standards applied to Pamela.

Gary said sullenly, “I would think some contemporary standards would be accepted as givens—in a civilized courtroom, at least.”
“Which contemporary standards?” Lonquist said. “Based on twenty-first-century Western culture, Mr. B can hardly be faulted for wanting no-strings-attached sex.”
The judge barked, “We will use the standard of customs as established in the eighteenth century. Was lesbianism a discussed topic in the literature of the day?”
Dr. Matchel said, “It was a forbidden topic that nevertheless underscored most women’s writings.”
Leslie Quinn said, “No.”
Dr. Matchel bridled. “Of course, popular non-fiction ignores such crucial subtexts.”
Leslie Quinn said good-humoredly, “Oh, I’m not saying that homosexuality wasn’t an aspect of eighteenth-century England or that people never discussed it. I just don’t think eighteenth-century literature is imbued with hidden messages about the love that dare not speak its name. People do write about other things, you know.”
“They were prejudiced,” Gary said.
“So you’ll use eighteenth-century culture to promote your position, then attack it to defend your position?”
The Committee for Literary Fairness glared at Lonquist.
The judge waved a hand, “I’m not concerned with critical theory relativism. I want to know how Mr. B behaved. Please continue, Mr. B.”

The emboldened lines (my emphasis of, um, my text) summarize my problem with most academic silliness. Dr. Matchel and "just call me Gary" Gary are less about reading--letting the characters speak--and more about promoting a particular agenda; less about falling in love with characters, lines, plots, authors, and more about promoting a particular theory which can be applied to current events. They are less about valuing interesting thoughts and ideas and more about categorizing those thoughts and ideas into appropriate, non-appropriate, acceptable, non-acceptable, profound-according-to-us, too-too reactionary categories.

Silly academics is, in other words, about anything but actual books and words.

Not every college/university in infected by this attitude and even within departments that are infected, there are always a few hold-outs. But unfortunately, the attitudes are still there to be spoofed.

I'll leave you to guess what happens to Mr. B (taking into account that I am a romantic).

Thor

2011-10-21T17:29:00.004-04:00

So it isn't often that you put in a superhero/action movie and get Shakespeare!

At least, not lately. Actually, Shakespeare explored all the classic action plots! However, superhero/action movies these days tend to involve more bad guys v. good guys story-lines than father-son show-downs. So when I put Thor into the DVD player, the last thing I expected was King Lear with Thor taking the Edgar role and Loki taking the Edmund role.

It's a family drama!

That wasn't the first surprise. The immense Chris Hemsworth (at 6'3," he qualifies as immense) as Thor also surprised me. After all, what is Thor called upon to do or be other than immense-guy-who-smashes-things?

Okay, so the script demands that he undergo a change. At the beginning of the film he is arrogant and lordly and at the end of the film, he is sweet and down-to-earth (ha ha).

What makes Chris Hemsworth (directed by Kenneth Branagh) remarkable is that he is both arrogant/lordly and sweet/down-to-earth right from the beginning. In the beginning, he is arrogant but also guileless and charming (that smile!). At the end, he has been humbled, but he still carries himself like a king. As a result, his growth as a character is believable; as an acting feat, it is more than a little impressive.

I was also impressed by the use of Loki. At first, my reaction was "well, duh, of course Loki is the betrayer," and I was even a little miffed that the scriptwriters were being so obvious. But within thirty minutes or so, I realized that I wasn't sure what Loki would do next. Which is exactly how Loki ought to come across! He's the ultimate ambiguous character, and the writers (and Tom Hiddleston) nailed his attitudes/perspective (by the way, Branagh tends to use his own people in movies when he can; Hiddleston starred with Branagh in Wallander).

I was glad to see more of Agent Coulson whom I really like and who is in Iron Man 2 far less than I'd anticipated. Thor makes up for that lack. My favorite scene with him is when he tells Barton to wait; he wants to see what happens when Thor grips the hammer. (Marvel fans: Is Barton supposed to be the Green Arrow? Or am I getting my franchises confused?)

This brings me to the excellence of Branagh as a director. I wasn't sure if I would see any of Branagh in this movie. Although he does direct epics, they tend to be non-supernatural-elements epics, and I wasn't sure if anything of Branagh could show up in a Marvel movie.

I'm glad to say, his touch is there. Branagh's strength is his ability to pull ordinary human elements out of heroic, Shakespearean moments. Although I knew that Thor wouldn't be able to pick up the hammer (on earth) the first time, I was moved by Barton's caustic but sympathetic remarks, Coulson's willingness to wait (in the rain) for Thor to try, and ultimately, by Thor's weary disbelief at his failure to reclaim his own weapon. Likewise, Odin is fully believable in his defensiveness over Loki's pain while Thor's guilt, confusion, and love towards Loki are heart-wrenchingly authentic.

The music helps! By the way, that's Patrick Doyle whom Branagh almost always uses as his composer.

Oddly enough, the only false note is Natalie Portman. The interactions between her, Darcy, and Selvig are natural and amusing (and Thor being tasered is one of the funniest parts of the movie), but there simply isn't enough of Thor and Jane together to merit the ending. This is actually a problem in these Marvel movies. So far, no one has really lived up to the "cool girl next door who dates the superhero" persona except Kirsten Dunst (Spiderman) who did it so effortlessly, I keep expecting her to show up again.

I'm really hoping Joss Whedon doesn't spoil the run by killing off a major character in his usual Whedon style. Take a lesson from Branagh, Joss! It is possible (and far more interesting) to create heroic moments without ending a life. (Yes, I'm glad Loki isn't dead.)

The DVD had a preview for Captain America which looks interesting. How does it compare to Iron Man and Thor?

Agatha Christie and the Nature of Evil

2011-10-12T00:59:00.000-04:00

On his blog, Eugene argues that although there is a place in fiction for bad guys with no discernible or human motives, "corrupting [the world] using the kind of enlightened people who contribute to PBS and wouldn't be caught dead (or living dead) at McDonald's or Walmart and earnestly believe they're doing the right thing for the greater good (and for your own good) is a much more rewarding challenge."

One of the best short stories ever written about this type of internal corruption is "The Edge" by Agatha Christie. It isn't one of her mystery stories; rather, it is usually found in her ghost/occult short story anthologies and is incredibly creepy.

I will now give away the plot.

In the story, a upright, virtuous, charitable, socially respected, attractive woman, Clare, becomes downright evil.

The corruption begins when she discovers that Vivien, the wife of the man who jilted Clare, is having an affair. Clare decides not to tell him, praising herself for such disinterested goodness (it would only hurt his feelings; she would be telling him for the wrong reasons . . .). Actually, her true motive (or, at least, one of her initial motives) is a sense of power. When Vivien behaves in a catty fashion, Clare lets her know what she knows. She makes Vivien promise to give up the affair for Clare's silence.

Clare is only partly silent, however. She uses subtle, cutting remarks in social settings to remind Vivien what she knows. This goes on for years until Vivien finally persuades the husband to move away. When Clare finds out, she virtuously informs Vivien she can no longer keep silence.

"I daresay it seems very strange to you," said Clare quietly. "But [my reason] honestly is [conscience]."
Vivien's white, set face stared into hers. "I really believe you mean it, too. You actually think that's the reason."
"It is the reason."
"No, it isn't. If so, you'd have done it before. Why didn't you? I'll tell you. You got more pleasure out of holding it over me--that's why."

Despite Vivien's correct surmise, Clare holds to her intent at which point Vivien throws herself off a cliff (it sounds far more dramatic and surprising than written; in the story, Vivien's decision has a dream-like quality: she runs off waving as Clare watches stupefied). Clare goes mad.

Setting aside the initial issue--which isn't really the point--Clare's relishing of power over a single human being in a small village in England is exactly the kind of mundane, petty cruelty that can occur at the purely interpersonal level. It is remarkable storytelling--and proves that while Christie may not have gone in for long exploratory novels regarding human behavior, she certainly understood it very well.

Iron Man 2 and Character Studies

2011-10-10T13:26:00.002-04:00

I finally saw Iron Man 2, and I was surprised at how much I enjoyed it. It was not at all what I expected.

Series action movies appear to follow a pattern. The first is the background movie, the movie that establishes the hero or heroine's context. Batman Begins, Iron Man, Spiderman, Die Hard, The Matrix, Pirates of the C, Fellowship of the Rings, Star Wars IV, Raiders of the Lost Ark, The Terminator, and Bourne Identity all establish how the main character came to be.

These first movies tend to be tighter than any of the others with strong set-ups and pay-offs. In general, not always, they tend to be the best made (though not always the most interesting).

The second movie falls into one of two categories, being either a movie with bigger guns, bigger suits, bigger action where lots and lots of stuff happens. Or a character study.

In general, I prefer character studies. And a surprising number of sequels to movies in the above list fall into that category. Spiderman 2 is an exploration of how being a superhero affects Peter Parker's life. Empire Strikes Back is a study of Luke's fears and need to grow in the force. Bourne Supremacy is an exploration of Bourne's desire to understand, and forgive, himself. (I'm skipping The Dark Knight because I just don't know what to make of it.)

And Iron-Man 2 is an unexpected study of Tony Stark's personality. There isn't really a character arc in the sense that Tony changes, but he does come to terms with how much people in his life have tried to help him. The scene with his father (on film) is supremely touching, and Robert Downey, Jr.--like always with Stark--does an excellent job keeping the character consistent (no hugs and tears for this guy) while indicating that he has expanded in self-knowledge (there's a kind of House quality about Stark).

I was very surprised! I had expected big guns, big suits, blah, blah, blah.

Now, there are sequels which fall into the bigger guns, bigger suits, etc. category which do work. The Two Towers (non-extended) is quite a tight little film. Terminator 2 (non-extended) more than adequately continues the story (with a soupcon of character study).

However, despite Hollywood's belief that less doesn't equal more, big guns/big suits/lots of stuff happening sequels tend to be duds. Pirates II is one of the few movies in my entire life that I turned off because I was bored out of my skull. It takes a lot to bore me television/movie-wise (I can always do something else while I'm watching!). The first 45 minutes of Pirates II is shaggy dog story world, only more pointless. Stuff happens to happen. It's tedious.

Likewise, the sequel to Raiders is just a bunch of stuff happening for less than believable reasons.

I would love to say that series which use character studies as their second movie have the best shelf-life, but unfortunately, this isn't true. Star Wars plummeted into abysmality after Empire. Spiderman 3 was a terrible disappointment. On the other hand, Terminator 3, while not one of my favorite films, did hold its own, and the Die Hard series was surprisingly rejuvenated with Live Free or Die Harder.

All I can say is, I sure hope Avengers doesn't muck up Iron Man's winning streak. (You hear me, Joss Whedon!)

Stargate: Season 6 Review

2011-09-30T10:16:00.003-04:00

Redemption 1 & Redemption 2: Corin Nemac becomes a member of the team. The problem here is that Corin Nemac is supposed to be Daniel's replacement, but he comes off more flyboy jock than geek. Though Michael Shanks is quite buff (rather startlingly so), he always managed to project more diplomatic/investigator persona than soldier persona. Colin, on the other hand, looks like a gunny from JAG.

Still, he is a sweetie with a dry sense of humor.

Some good problems are presented. Anubis is a fairly boring bad guy, but the episode includes strong McKay-Carter interactions and a smart way to get rid of the Russian gate. (I love how the Russians would rather rent out their Stargate than fund their own program: it's so real!)

Descent: Okay underwater adventure. Like the next episode, this episode is prepping us for Stargate: Atlantis.

Frozen: And Stargate becomes the X-Files!

This was the first episode of the entire series that felt like a total non-story to me: stuff happens only for what needs to take place later on.

Nightwalkers: Adrian Cole is an interesting problem. Unfortunately, he will eventually be paid-off in a dismal fashion.

Abyss: One of my all-time, absolute favorite episodes. I love the setting (the gravity manipulation), Baal's clothes (seriously; they are incredibly sexy), and, of course, Daniel and Jack's deadpan interchanges.

The episode makes complete sense in terms of characterization. Jack isn't the ascending type. And Daniel isn't the sit-back-and-not-get-involved type. I love how it is heavily implied that Daniel helped solve the problem of getting Jack out.

Shadow Play: Another great example of Dean Stockwell's acting ability. He does an excellent job playing a non-playboy scientist.

(Even if this episode is a retelling of A Beautiful Mind. For awhile, after A Beautiful Mind came out, everybody was doing these types of episodes!)

The Other Guys: A fabulous episode! Patick McKenna and John Billingsley are hilarious. I love the Trek references though my favorite line is Jack's: "Why look everybody—he's got Coombs with him!"

I mustn't forget Felger shooting randomly when he and Coombs arrive on the ship and Coombs walking down the middle of the corridor while Felger tries to act cool by skulking in the shadows.

My only problem is that the ending implies the whole thing was a dream. According to the commentary, the events happened, just not the kiss.

Allegiance: Tok'ra and Jaffa tale. Interesting tensions are presented. There are some GREAT Jack moments which underscore his role as a natural leader. Also, Melek—a fairly interesting character—is introduced.

Cure: This episode opens with another great Jack moment. The writers are definitely compensating for the loss of Shanks by giving viewers extra-Jack.

The episode has an "ends justify the means" plot with no definitive villains. I like how the "ends" themselves are quite problematic which is very real (no such thing as utopias on Stargate).

This episode also explains the origin of the Tok'ra which is fairly interesting. The Queen of the Tok'ra is a real class act.

Prometheus: This is a conspiracy theory episode. Unfortunately, the SGC as a big secret society breaks the magic for me. A faux fun secret society like in Men in Black is one thing; a real secret society turns the good guys into people invested in protecting their specialness: erk.

But at least I now know where the spaceship—which shows up in Stargate: Atlantis—came from!

Unnatural Selection: Replicators again! At least now they have a human face, but the story is rather shaggy and depressing and obviously just done to set up problems later on.

Another Teal'c like: Ben & Jerry's!

Sight Unseen: A rehash of earlier Stargate ideas—bugs, confused civilians, otherworld devices that cause problems on earth—not all that interesting an episode.

Smoke & Mirrors: An N.I.D./Senator Kinsey episode. Great beginning! There's a nice pay-off at the end.

And I get a kick out of the continual mention of "Daniel Jackson" (yes, folks, he is coming back).

Paradise Lost: Maybourne shows up! I like how Maybourne can't stay away from the SGC. Criminals return to what they know.

Which brings up: would it really be a good idea to set Maybourne loose in the universe?

Metamorphosis: Nirrti shows up! And dies!! What a way for her to go!!!

It really is quite a good pay-off.

Disclosure: A flashback episode. Generally, I dislike these, but this one includes a nice summary/overview of the Stargate universe/mythos.

And I love the diplomacy at work: let the United States fund the intergalactic space program; they will have all the responsibility while we reap the rewards of their research! (Hmmm. Seems familiar . . .)

Forsaken: Pretty interesting problem, but, again, a rehash of a previous problem with a rather abrupt pay-off.

The Changeling: One of the best Stargate episodes ever! I love Teal'c's heroism. I love how the episode pays off with Jonas delivering similar lines to those he speaks at the beginning of the episode.

I also love how everyone plays the perfect role in T's alternate universe (of course, Jack would be fire chief!) and how Daniel is actually playing himself, ascended, as well as "the resident psychologist."

Great episode!!

Memento: Interesting look at first contact with a people who behave much like Earthlings. I admire the philosophy behind the episode (the Stargate philosophy is that exploration is better than playing it safe, no matter what the consequences). However, I wish that Kalfas hadn't been dismissed/overcome so easily. Just because we know SG-1 are the good guys (hey, we watch the show!) doesn't mean Kalfas should trust them.

Prophecy: Good episode, but it also illustrates a problem that plagues Season 6.

Jonas was brought in to replace Michael Shanks: he took Daniel Jackson's position on SG-1; he also took Michael Shank's position on the show in terms of plots/lines.

And at first, this worked, but as the season continued, Jonas needed to develop more of his own personality. This particular episode, however, was pure Daniel. Its problem is the kind of problem that would happen to Daniel, not Jonas, and Jonas behaves like Daniel, not like himself.

Naturally, it is possible that the producers knew that Michael Shanks was coming back at this point, but overall—despite some good episodes—the entire season has the feel of treading water.

Full Circle: Final episode of Season 6. Fairly good action sequence. Daniel's decision to finally, ultimately, completely interfere makes sense considering what is at stake.

And Jack gives a great line: "Personally, I think this whole 'ascension' thing is a bit overrated."

However, again, the episode is used to set up things that will happen later on. The show has become a serial.

To a degree this serial business is inevitable. Star Trek: Next Generation managed better than most shows in retaining its one plot/episode approach. Stargate post-Season 4 is something of a compromise. Like Season 5, Season 6 does offer fun/interesting/even great single episodes. But there's this feeling of madly generating story-lines to keep the viewer hooked.

Seasons 1-4 are still the best!

Update to Poirot Movies (David Suchet)

2011-09-26T14:51:00.005-04:00

In a previous post, I reviewed David Suchet's Poirot movies (I'm a big fan of the series). Here is that list updated (there are some spoilers):

Previously Unreviewed:

Appointment with Death

Although the script takes liberties, creating new murderers (from extant characters), I didn't mind so much. For one, this particular story varies considerably between the book version and Christie's own play. For another, the new murderers make sense given the victim.

The only issue I have is, What is Tim Curry doing in this movie? His part is fairly irrelevant. I can only imagine that he offered, and the Poirot people just couldn't turn him down. I mean, would you turn down Tim Curry?

But he is the type of actor who needs to be cast completely correctly and then used completely correctly. He wasn't here.

Murder on the Orient Express

I was somewhat worried about this one. How can any version top the 1974 Albert Finney version? I think Suchet is just as good a Poirot--better in some ways. But the 1974 movie is in itself a tour de force.

The clever Poirot writers solved the problem by examining the plot from a completely new direction: are the conspirators justified? This question haunts the narrative, and Poirot is the right character to contemplate it. The result is a rather dark movie, but one that still keeps mostly to the plot.

Hallowe'en Party

A surprisingly good production with perfect casting of the Judith and Miranda characters (played by Amelia Bullmore and Mary Higgins). I also really enjoyed seeing Zoe Wannamaker again. She has great acerbic delivery.

However, the movie does indicate how/why movies develop completely different tones/auras from their books; it occurs when the movie script fails to take context into account.

In the book Halloween Party, there are a number of dead bodies. There is also a reference to a woman possibly being a lesbian.

In both cases, the material is there, but taking it out of Christie's context gives the movie an odd, unbalanced feel. The dead bodies in the book have mostly happened in the past; there's an almost unreal quality about them (which is part of the ambiance). By constantly showing us the dead bodies, the movie becomes . . . well, kind of silly. It's one thing to have a cozy village mystery with a couple of deaths; it's another to have a cozy village mystery with people dropping like flies. It's the freaking Black Plague! It is also the reason I had to stop watching Midsomer Murders. I adore John Nettles, but the writers were killing off so many people per episode, there wasn't anyone left to blame or investigate or even care.

The second issue--the woman who might be a lesbian--appears in the book but in a comment by a teenage boy who is trying to act grown-up around Poirot. Making it a central issue in the movie was pointless.

I say this at the risk of appearing seemingly intolerant, so . . . I'll just keep going: British television is obsessed with lesbians. The current Miss Marple series has them falling out of every cupboard. And it's bad art.

It is one thing to add in a gay couple for the sake of a story; it's quite another to add them in as some kind of token gesture. The Inspector Alleyn movie Death at the Bar turns two of the main male characters into a gay couple, and it actually makes a ton of sense. The Toby Stephens' character in Five Little Pigs is portrayed as gay, and again, it makes sense (and Toby Stephens does a marvelous job conveying both his affection for the dead man and his self-contempt of what that means).

But sometimes this type of political correctness just gets silly. It also doesn't achieve its purpose--at least with someone like me--because if so-called politically correct tolerance entails creating badly written scripts, then it should stop. (And it's faux tolerance to begin with since no Christie movie--no movie in existence actually--can successfully represent every group/religion/political organization. The end result of so many lesbians but not, say, Mormons is to think that maybe someone in British television has an agenda. That's not tolerance; that's just annoying.)

The Clocks & Three-Act Tragedy

I combine my review of these because they are fairly boring books but fairly respectable movies. The Clocks movie does highlight one of the flaws of the Poirot movies: in an effort to remain chronologically consistent with the series, the later books are not set in the 1950s and 1960s but in the 1940s. This is very sad since Christie did a great job "modernizing" her novel settings while her detectives remained (deliberately) the same. Miss Marple and Poirot had to adjust (with some success) to a rapidly changing culture. Great fun!

But The Clocks movie, instead of being placed in the 1960s, is placed pre-WWII, creating a bewildering change in tone from the book.

Still, the Colin and Sheila characters are done well. And the basic plot is kept which impressed me. One huge change is made to one particular character, but I'm guessing the script-writer went, "That's WAY too much of a coincidence" and left it out. I don't fault the script-writer.

Three-Act Tragedy is extremely well-done. It is much better than the 1980's version which is so boring, I've never seen it all the way through because I fall asleep, and I am NOT the kind of person who falls asleep watching movies. So Suchet's version is a vast improvement. And Martin Shaw does a magnificent job.

So, will they do Curtain?

Prior Reviews:

Peril At End House: The first Poirot/Suchet movie keeps the order of events and the identity of the murderer. It also retains the aura and theme. It isn't the best out of the first set but worth watching.

Mysterious Affair at Styles: This is one of the few movies that actually makes more sense than the book. Mysterious Affair was Christie's first book, and it is rather difficult to follow. In general, although Christie throws out lots of red herrings, her explanations are always crystal-clear. If you have difficulty following the clues in the book, check out the movie: it helps.

The ABC Murders: The best of the first set, really excellent. It demonstrates a great appreciation for the book--everything is spot on.

Death in the Clouds: Okay, but surprisingly boring. Well, its setting revolves about tennis, so what do you expect? Doesn't play havoc with the book at least.

One, Two, Buckle My Shoe: Pretty good, but then it has the amazing Eccleston and the equally amazing Peter Blythe. It also has one of Christie's better double-identity tricks; even if you figure out the double-identity, you won't be sure what it is being used for immediately.

Hercule Poirot's Christmas: Okay, but something of a disappointment for me. This is one of my favorite books, and although the murderer's identity is kept, a missing character changes the overall aura of the piece.

Hickory Dickory Dock: One of the few movies I think is more interesting than the book. It does an excellent job retaining the aura of student life from the book plus it uses Miss Lemon absolutely correctly. Colin Firth's brother, Jonathan, stars. Yeah, that's right, the brother who WASN'T Darcy. Still, he's managed to have a fairly successful career, and there's something to be said for NOT being the typed-cast brother. For Life fans, Damian Lewis also stars and does a great job.

Murder on the Links: Well-done if a little dull. Retains both the plot and aura of the original.

Dumb Witness: Well-done if a little dull. The dog is cute.

This concludes what I think of as the first set although I believe the above movies are sold in two sets. However, there is a four-year difference between Dumb Witness and the next movie; also, the feel of the movies changes, hence the separation here between "early" films and "later" films.

The Murder of Roger Ackroyd: Not bad. The first-person voice-over differs from the book for obvious reasons. It kind of works. Basic plot points are retained. All in all, an okay production.

Lord Edgware Dies: Extremely well-done. Helen Grace as Jane Wilkinson does a superb job. Plot, murderer, and aura are all retained. The best movie since The ABC Murders.

Evil Under the Sun: Okay movie, but the femme fatale isn't done correctly. I'm not sure the writers understood Christie's character. She's supposed to be THE woman that women-love-to-hate, the bad girl who breaks up marriages except . . . strip away the glamour, and she's actually rather pitiable. For a better rendering of this character type, check out the series episode "Triangle at Rhodes."

Murder in Mesopotamia: I think I would like this movie more if it wasn't one of my favorite books. The book is told entirely from the nurse's point of view, and the nurse has a very distinct voice and perspective. She makes the book live. The movie, however, is told all from Poirot's point of view. I understand this on one level; the writers have to use the guy who is being show-cased. But it is still a disappointment. That said, the movie is worth watching. It keeps the main plot points and the aura.

Five Little Pigs: This is one of the best of the later movies. It is the most artistic of the films and effectively captures a nostalgic aura that works well with the plot. It keeps the plotting of the book as Poirot questions each "pig" in turn. There is a subtle change regarding the Philip Blake character (played by the superb Toby Stephens). However, the change actually makes sense and doesn't play havoc with Christie's text at all. The actor who plays Amyas Crale isn't at all how I see Amyas Crale physically, but he captures the character.

Sad Cypress: Overall, the plot is well-rendered. However, a major change between the book and movie tells me the writers missed the point. I discuss that change more in my post "Thoughts on Agatha Christie and Literature".

Death on the Nile: Better than the 1978 version. Plus the 2004 version has JJ Feild! It's such a sad movie, I rarely rewatch it. Plus none of the movies has my favorite line. When Jacqueline is speaking to Poirot at the end of the book, she says, "I followed a bad star," and then she mocks a line given earlier in the book: "That bad star, that bad star fall down." When I read Death on the Nile as a teenager, that line captured the essence of Jacqueline's character for me.

The Hollow: Pretty good. Like with Death on the Nile, it is missing some good lines from the book. Otherwise, the characters and plot are skillfully handled. It is also very sad. But then, so is the book!

The Mystery of the Blue Train: Not bad although I'm not as familiar with this book as the others. A romance change is made that I dislike (this becomes more common in the later movies).

Cards on the Table: Great book. So-so movie. A number of fundamentals are needlessly changed (this becomes more common in the later movies). The motive for the murder is changed but not the murderer. It kind of works.

Actually, I think the movie would be a dud if it wasn't for the awesome Zoe Wannamaker. She plays Mrs. Oliver; she doesn't look like Mrs. Oliver, but she captures her character exactly (and it's Zoe Wannamaker!). Alexander Siddig makes an appearance as Mr. Shaitana and does a great job (he also reminds you how tall he is; in Deep Space Nine, he is one over-6-foot man amongst many over-6-foot people--except for Nana Visitor).

After the Funeral: One of my favorite movies though substantial changes are made to Susannah and George's characters. I like the changes, and I don't think they undermine anything. The clever motive and clever murderer are retained, and the clever murderer is done exactly right.

Taken at the Flood: Surprisingly well-rendered. This is Christie's scary psycho piece, and Elliot Cowan as David Hunter, the psycho, is chillingly good. By the way, this movie captures Christie's ideas of emotional (and sexual) enthrallment (see my comments about Sad Cypress). A romance change is made that I regret, but I can understand why the writers did it.

Mrs. McGinty's Dead: Well-rendered. This movie also retains very funny dialog from the book. One is the argument between Mrs. Oliver and Robin about the adaptation of her books to plays (Agatha Christie used Mrs. Oliver to spout off about writing); the other is Poirot's line to a suspect: "It is amazing to me that you could be hanged because you do not pay enough attention to the things people say to you!"

Cat Among the Pigeons: I admit this is one book I would be tempted to play with if I were the writers. I have this entire subplot involving Adam and Julia. However . . . in terms of faithfulness to Christie's vision, the movie is pretty good. The plot and murderer's identity are retained but not, I think, the aura. The removal of one character kind of destroys the original feel. Also, although Harriet Walter does a magnificent job as Miss Bulstrode, I'm not sure she is the Miss Bulstrode of the book, and this kind of matters.

Third Girl: Tremendous disappointment! The movie destroys the book. The book is extremely well-plotted and very clever; the resulting movie-mess is just that: a mess. Things happen for no good reason. The new motives are slender and convoluted. The double-identity (a Christie special) is disregarded. Mrs. Oliver is misused. Doctor Stillingfleet, a very important character, is discarded. The entire ambiance as well as the book's time period have been thrown out. Jemima Rooper, who I quite like, is completely wrong for the part of Norma. The movie is a huge wreck.

I can only assume the recent Miss Marple people took over. Please, if you don't admire Christie enough to reread her books several times, savoring her plots and characters and recognizing her for the incredible craftswoman she was . . . if you are arrogant and blind enough to think you can "improve" on her plots, stop producing Christie movies!

The "Incident" Romance vs. the Relationship Romance

2011-09-17T09:20:00.001-04:00

I am not a fan of romances which involve a series of incidents, embroiling the hero and heroine in mayhem, mischief, and miscommunication before depositing them at the altar.

This kind of romance can be entertaining. Georgette Heyer wrote a number of these adventure-type romances, and many of them are downright hilarious: Heroes pick up stray heiresses who are being chased by villainous rascals; heroines get transported to unlikely spots by dastardly rogues and are rescued by roguish, but non-dastardly, passerbys. Etc. etc. etc.

Yet even with Georgette Heyer, I get tired of all the mix-ups involving other people. I want to see the hero and heroine work together or just go somewhere and talk. It's okay to have a villain lurking in the underbrush, but I want to read about them; I don't much care about all those other people.

I recently read a romance novel--which will go unnamed--in which a hilarious debacle ensued whenever the hero and heroine were about to get together. It was the whole "this time, she'll really be upset/this time, he'll really offend her!" idea.

I didn't find it amusing. I find it amusing on Frasier because a Frasier episode is 30 minutes, there's a pay-off, and I can skip the episodes where people excessively humiliate themselves. But I don't want to read several hundred pages of the stuff. After funny-hilarious debacle #4 of the above unnamed novel, I wanted to shoot someone. WHO CARES? If these people can't work out their issues before one more crazy thing upsets them (again), they certainly shouldn't be contemplating marriage. (What? They think marriage will be easy or something?)

It reminds me of a review of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. The reviewer rolled his eyes over how, at the end, instead of laughing like adults over how they had been set up, instead of saying, "That's so great! We are so lucky to have such great friends!" the hero and heroine got offended and had to stalk off in their separate directions before fate intervened.

These people should not be getting married. What about the next time an outsider interferes? What about the next moment of miscommunication?

These types of romances remind me of an ex-college-roommate who wanted someone to buy her apartment lease. Depending on her mood, she would come home and say, "Well, my lease didn't sell. God is telling me not to leave" OR "Well, my lease didn't sell. God wants me to overcome obstacles." It never occurred to her to either just wait 4 months for the lease to be up and then move on or to try to actively get someone to move into the apartment. And I never understood why it was God's problem to begin with.

Likewise, I'm not wedded to romances that, as Eugene states in his Last Promise review, include "a medieval theme . . . of the Great Wheel of Fate. Climb aboard at the wrong instance and your life is doomed until it rolls around and rights itself. We are supposed to admire the protagonist merely for hanging on and letting go when the sunny side of life shows up like a stop on a Disneyland amusement ride."

Well, okay, we are supposed to admire the protagonist for being so plucky and attractive to the hero. And it isn't so much the lack of pro-action that bothers me but the lack of any real reason why, finally, the ride has stopped. Now, the hero and heroine will unite. Uh, yay . . . (Is it finally time?)

Give me instead a hero and heroine who fight to overcome a specific problem by making sacrifices, communicating, and learning more about each other. Sure, I know that once that specific problem is overcome, others will crop up. But at least I'm convinced that this couple will be able to handle those problems.

Guest Blogger: Mike Discusses 10 Fundamental Flaws of Wonder Woman

2011-09-01T18:01:00.008-04:00

Not too long ago, Kate asked me to recommend some good Wonder Woman stories. As an avid comics fan, I can usually recommend dozens of different comics/graphic novels for either the hard core fan or the interested newcomer. Despite this, Kate caught me at a loss. Perhaps the most surprising thing about my inability to fulfill her request was that I was unaware of it! I believe my answer was "Oh, sure! Umm--" Right about then I realized I was in trouble.

I received a similar response from many comics fan friends. Not only were we unable to think of a defining WW run, none of us even realized it until we were asked. As we looked into the matter further, we found there is no defining WW story. For the most part, she just is, much like background noise in a phone call.

I believe, as Kate has suggested, that WW’s success really stems from the Lynda Carter television show. With a toned-down origin and clever acting, the character resonated with women of the time, enduring to this day. The resemblance of this character to the comics portrayal, however, is minimal. As she exists in the comics, WW has continually failed to be a character that fans can relate to and care about, despite having some very strong writers through the years.

Following are 10 reasons Wonder Woman is inaccessible to a larger audience. Understand that these are the views of a thirty-something married man who has read comics most of his life and not a sexist teenager flipping through comics for skin and tight costumes.

Speaking of costumes . . .

1. Wonder Woman's costume is impractical.

I know many women protest it because they feel it’s sexist. Many men support it because it’s sexy. I, however, find it completely impractical. First, it’s a glorified swimsuit. While WW is super-powered, her costume should still be designed to provide some sort of protection and cover. If she’s going to bother with boots, surely she feels SOME leg covering is needed? The breastplate itself is metal. If a hero is going to bother with armor, surely she would wear it in more than one place?

Also, the color scheme makes no sense. While this has been explained a thousand different ways, the costume was originally designed to sell comics to patriotic comics fans. But story-wise, no matter HOW you explain it, there is no reason an Amazon warrior from Greek mythology would be wearing the stars and stripes. In addition, WW’s look is not even consistent with what the other Amazons wear in the comics. All of WW’s friends wear armor and Greek-inspired dress. Surely she would too?

2. Wonder Woman lacks an understandable motive.

Wonder Women is a Greek warrior molded from clay, given life by the gods of Greek myth, and raised on an island inhabited by nothing but women. While she has been known to have a private life in "the world of man," she divides most of her time between Themyscira and whatever Justice League headquarters are being used at the time. In other words, WW is completely cut off from mortal men and women and has no relationship or understanding of them. Why would she defend them or risk exposure of her people and the existence of the Greek gods when they have gone to such lengths to be hidden for so long? Especially for a race of beings that WW has every reason to believe is beneath her?

[Note from Kate: I think a series devoted to just this problem would be very interesting! Wonder Woman has to decide between isolationism/secrecy and humanity/exposure, between demi-god aristocracy and of-the-people mediocrity/meritocracy. However, it could end with her turning her back on her origins...]

3. Wonder Woman lacks connection with humanity.

Likewise, with WW so cut off from humanity and all the cares and concerns of a mortal life, how are everyday fans expected to relate and connect to her? To be fair, some efforts have been made to give WW a secret identity and to involve her in the mortal world, but all these efforts reek of the "new girl in town" mentality and fail to really establish a connection between WW and humanity.

Wonder Women has a perfect physique, no need to work or pay the bills, and hangs out with arguably the most perfect and noble men on the planet. The closest thing to children she has is a sidekick (Wonder Girl) who operates almost completely independent of WW. As a reader, there is no "hook," nothing to make me care about the character or relate to her.

4. Wonder Woman lacks a good rival.

Wonder Women’s rogues gallery consists of Greek Gods and monsters, magic-powered villains, and totemic-powered individuals (like the Cheetah) who usually have no real reason to be robbing banks, meddling in politics, or really even trying to destroy the world. In fact, many of them share the same distance from humanity that WW herself has. Not only are none of them truly compelling, none of them provide a convincing or emotionally-fueled rivalry with WW.

5. Wonder Woman's combination of powers makes no sense.

Wonder Woman has super-strength, the enhanced senses of animals, nearly invulnerable skin, the ability to fly, and the Aphrodite-given gift of beauty (really). She also has a tiara that can be used as a boomerang-like throwing weapon, indestructible bracelets, and the lasso of truth.

I don’t even know where to start! WW being close to invulnerable would explain the skimpy costume…but if she doesn’t need armor, why does she need the bracelets? The lasso would seem to indicate that WW needs some trick to capture villains, yet she can’t leave them tied up with the lasso (it is gold, after all), and since she’s already beat them with her super strength before tying them up, why would she need a truth spell on men who already know she can kick their ass? I’m at a loss.

Not to mention, the tiara hardly seems like an accessory of someone trying to embody female empowerment.

[Note from Kate: there is a brand of feminism which touts girl-power: pinkness, Barbie, and make-up. However, WW doesn't really belong to this school of thought. Her rather odd creator was somewhat more fascinated with WW's dominatrix skills rather than her Barbie-like attributes. Still, making her a proponent of this brand of feminism would be a possible solution! If it was allowed, that is . . . see Mike's notes under 7 & 8 below.].

6. Wonder Woman’s role in the superhero community is redundant.

She’s not as strong as Superman, Super Girl, or Power Girl, and while she can be a brilliant tactician, Batman still has her beat. Although she does have a connection to magic through the Greek Gods, this is easily rivaled by Captain Marvel (SHAZAM!) or Zatana. Even as the holder of the lasso of truth, questioning prisoners for information is far easier if you just have Martian Manhunter read the villain’s mind. Essentially WW is on the team because she’s been around for a LONG time. Even as the token female on the team, there are dozens of female characters better developed, more powerful, and easier to relate to for fans than WW.

7. Wonder Women is kept from the possibility of a romance.

Writing romantic relationships for Wonder Woman is so fraught with complications, the relationships often end up either jokes or controversy. I get annoyed by the idea that a strong female must either be gay or single. Yet, I also don’t believe that a woman MUST be in a relationship to define herself. However, Wonder Woman's untouchability (as both a hero and an icon) has so politically charged her love life, there is no possible relationship that would not end with fans marching on DC Comics’ headquarters. Consequently, WW is often without a romantic interest, robbing her of yet another thing that would provide depth and humanity to the character.

8. Wonder Woman isn't allowed to change.

While DC Comics and most writers understand that Wonder Woman is flawed, the fans fight any suggestion of change. Changes need to be made, but die-hard fans become defensive at the slightest alteration and often lash out so strongly that any long term changes to the character are usually reversed within a year or less. In the last five years, Wonder Woman has been blind, worn a cape and a sword, become a secret agent in her free time, murdered a super-villain on live television, and lost her powers and role of Wonder Woman. Yet all of these plot points were soon reversed, bringing WW back to her traditional status quo.

9. Wonder Woman can never escape being Wonder Woman.

The idea of Wonder Woman proving herself to be just as good as men continually affects the quality of her books. The extent to which this issue is explored varies with the writer. However, if a writer chooses to tone down the issue, he or she draws attention to the fact, often with a line like "Oh, I don’t have to prove I’m as good as you guys. I’m worried about doing my job!" which is still a very verbal political statement about the argument! There’s no way to escape it; it’s tied to the character.

10. Ultimately, Wonder Woman's is a mass of contradictions.

She is a well-endowed, beautiful princess who runs around in a swimsuit (that barely fits her), yet the character resents the derogatory idea of being viewed as a sex symbol. She is an Amazonian Warrior that actively fights crime, sometimes with a sword, even going so far as to kill, yet she is on a mission of peace to humanity (a humanity that she has little to nothing to do with). She is a model of female empowerment in an industry where the majority of the customer base is men. She was sent to protect and care for man, yet she does not trust mankind and has little to no interaction with the everyday person. She is presented as an American Icon, wearing the red, white, and blue, yet she was raised in a religious and political culture bearing no resemblance to the American system or its religious roots as "one nation under God." Ultimately, Wonder Woman has no consistent or relevant reason for existing, no mission statement that guides the character.

While any of these reasons alone would signal trouble for a character, combined they form a picture of an outdated and poorly constructed character that is so far removed from its readers that no real bond of affection can be formed. There is, however, some good news.

Hope for Wonder Woman

In recent months, the Wonder Woman franchise has been handed to J. Michael Straczynski, the writer of Babylon 5 and the mind behind the recent comeback of Thor as well as a hugely successful Spiderman run that ran for several years. Whenever Starczynski is handed a project, his trademark is moving the character into the present, using classic and new elements to create something accessible to everyone. His Thor run is a perfect example of how well he can pull this off.

With Wonder Woman, he had A LOT of work to do. And while the public is still reeling from many of the changes, which are drastic, I can tell you the changes have addressed nearly every concern listed above. In the New Wonder Women series, time has been altered and Paradise Island has been destroyed. Diana (Wonder Woman) has been raised by refugees of the Amazon culture in the underbelly of New York. WW has become a street-wise warrior, searching to fulfill her destiny to save her people and defeat the evil that has changed her world.

My hope is that these changes will be long lasting, avoiding the normal cycle of changing things up and returning back to status quo. Wonder Woman needed some serious retooling, and it seems that it has finally happened. Here’s hoping it lasts.

[Note from Kate: Thanks for the suggestion, Mike! I have requested Straczynski's 1st volume through my local library!]

The Villainous Hero

2011-08-26T10:26:00.001-04:00

Many romances (G, PG, and R)* include villainous heroes--these are heroes that for all intents and purposes act not too differently from the bad guy: they kidnap the heroine, occasionally threaten her, and behave ruthlessly. Oddly enough, they rarely stalk (take that, Edward!) although they aren't adverse to interfering in the heroine's life when they believe themselves justified.

Naturally, in real life, one would question the advisability of pursuing a man of this type. In fiction, however, the villainous hero can be a lot of fun.

However, even in fiction, the villainous hero can prove problematic. I've read novels where the villainous hero won my endorsement, and I've read novels where the villainous hero caused me to roll my eyes: Oh, please, how on earth is the heroine supposed to know the difference between him and the bad guy?

I think it comes down to a matter of writing. Here are characterizations that distinguish the worthwhile villainous hero from the ridiculous villainous hero:

1. The villainous hero undergoes a change.

That is, by the end of the novel, the villainous hero has recognized the inappropriateness of his earlier behavior. In Prince of Dreams (R) by Lisa Kleypas, the hero actually undergoes a Scrooge-like dream sequence which teaches him a new way of relating to others.

However, in another novel by Kleypas, Tempt Me at Twilight (R) the hero is not only the same person when the novel ends, but . . .

2. The writer acknowledges that the villainous hero should change his behavior.

. . . the writer seems to justify the villainous hero's behavior.

By the way, I do mean the writer, not the narrator. One problem with the Twilight series, as Carole points out, is that Meyers didn't seem aware that she was creating a stalky, dysfunctional hero. If she just didn't care, eh, c'est la vie (this post is for writerly reasons, not politically correct ones), but she tried to justify Edward's behavior--always a mistake.

This issue of writer disconnect also arose in Buffy where Spike was treated like a villainous hero (a character capable of change and of being loved by Buffy) by the writers who then wanted to pretend they weren't doing precisely what they were doing: "Spike's a bad guy! Girls, don't you realize how bad Spike is?!"

Once the rules are established (some vampires, like Angel, can be forgiven), writers need to keep them.

3. The villainous hero is a bad boy--but not egregiously so.

That is, his faults fall into the forgivable range (I am excluding recently souled vampires). In the above mentioned Kleypas books, the villainous hero in Prince of Dreams confronts and scares off the heroine's current boyfriend. This is bad but not unforgivable. The boyfriend is a shallow Wickham-type character. Plus, the villainous hero does the confronting himself.

In the second book, the hero scares off the heroine's current boyfriend, but the boyfriend is just a waffling putz, and the hero doesn't do the confronting himself; he manipulates events into forcing the boyfriend to retreat. Setting aside the badness of a relationship built on manipulation, it's completely underhanded and not at all heroic.

Frankly, Kleypas did a better job with this particular plot device the first time.

4. The villainous hero is more interesting than the other characters.

Part of what makes the villainous hero so much fun is his sarcastic sense of humor. (In a total aside, Britishers do this better than anybody else; in the first Pirates movie, Jack Davenport as Norrington comes across as attractive and heroic ex-boyfriend rather than baffled and bumbling ex-boyfriend precisely because of his dry sarcasm and wry raised eyebrow. At one point, after he has declared that Sparrow is a terrible pirate, Sparrow gets away. A sailor exclaims, "That is the best pirate I have ever seen!" Instead of looking embarrassed or outraged, Davenport as Norrington just looks completely miffed.)

A villainous hero who can't outwit everyone else is a dead-loss. What's he the villainous hero for?

I place Mr. B of Pamela and Mr. B Speaks! (my personal tribute) into this category. As one of my characters states, "Mr. B is a very funny guy." Without Mr. B as a sparring partner, Pamela would be a good deal less interesting and interested. (By the way, it is not necessary to read Pamela to read Mr. B Speaks! since the plot of the original novel is fully described in both. Not that I normally discourage reading classics! But the writing style of Pamela seems to put off a lot of people.)

5. The reader believes at the end that the heroine is with the right person.

To refer again to Kleypas's books, the heroine in Prince of Dreams is exactly and precisely with the right person. She is strong-minded, tough, and more than a little capable of handling the hero.

However, I doubt the heroine in Kleypas's second book, who just wants a peaceful life but ends up with an alpha-needy-dominant husband, will have everlasting happiness (by the way, I feel the same way about romances where a highly opinionated, constantly challenging-the-man, pushy heroine marries a man who really just wants some peace and quiet).

For those of you who prefer G/PG* romance novels, check out Pamela (and Mr. B Speaks!), Georgette Heyer, and, naturally, Jane Austen. Richardson is quite convincing regarding Pamela's ability to handle Mr. B. Not only do you get the impression that Pamela can handle a man approximately 9 years her senior, you also get the impression she would be bored out of her skull with anyone else.

Regarding Georgette Heyer's novels, I consider the relationship between innocent (but worldly-wise) Leonie and the cynical Duke of Avon in These Old Shades entirely believable. I'm less sold on the romantic relationship in Devil's Cub although the villainous hero Vidal does fall under the "more interesting than any other character" label.

Out of all Heyer's villainous heroes, however, Dameral of Venetia gets the prize, not for himself but for the very real friendship that develops between him and Venetia. (This is actually the direction I think Whedon's writers were taking Buffy and Spike before they shied off.)

Regarding Austen, Darcy could be described as a villainous hero (he has the dark, glowering look), but as I argue in A Man of Few Words, Darcy's supposedly villainous behavior is more cluelessness and discomfort than outright villainy. In terms of hard-to-manage heroines, I think Knightley can manage Emma but only just and only because Emma's interferences are based on good will, not merely on a sense of entitlement.

On a slight tangent: Heyer has the under-appreciated (and under-utilized) ability to make extremely laid-back, non-villainous heroes interesting in their own right. The Quiet Gentleman and Sprig Muslin come to mind.

On another slight tangent: Jane Austen should be given kudos for creating villains who seem heroic but turn out to be deadheads: Wickham, Willoughby, and (that most subtle of villains) Henry Crawford.

6. The true villain still needs to be worse!

Moral and ethical standards should never be entirely abandoned. A heroine who marries a villain, no matter how attractive, will lose the support of the reader. "My man right or wrong" only works as long as the man is weaving his way towards the right, and "my man must be right because I love him" only works if the reader knows the heroine is correct (by getting inside the hero's head). Otherwise, the heroine will come across as a vapid moron, the hero as a scoundrel, and nobody will be respected in the morning.

*I use these ratings not because I think they actually make sense in terms of evaluating a film (or novel) but because of their colloquial meaning in everyday life. For the purposes of this blog, "R" means sex scenes are described; "PG" means they are referred to and kissing goes on; "G" means the hero and heroine kiss, that's all. However, I'm not even broaching the issue of innuendo or theme. (Such as Dracula which is "G" only in the most narrow technical sense; actually the whole crazy novel totters on the edge of "R+"--not that Bram Stoker was aware of this.) I've seen "R" movies that were incredibly "clean" in the wholesome story sense, and I've seen "PG" movies that were technically clean but totally skanky in feel. Everyone has their own line when it comes to this issue, and my designations are simply to help people find their comfort level.

Stargate: Season 5 Review

2011-08-24T21:38:00.022-04:00

In this review, I discuss Michael Shanks dissatisfaction with Stargate, the problem of spoofiness (when it works/when it doesn't), Stargate's best 2-parter, and why Jack is such a great leader.

Enemies: Jack, Daniel, Sam and Sam's dad are stuck millions of miles from earth and . . . they run into the replicators. Ugh. There are few things more boring than mechanical insects. This is one reason the Borg were so cool—technology PLUS a human face. However, this episode does prepare us for one of the most interesting Stargate episodes . . .

Threshold: As Teal'c fights his brainwashing by Apophis, we get to see his history/conversion to the Teal'c we know and love. The vignettes are well-done as well as believable: Teal'c's original story is one of slow self-discovery as he evaluates his personal theology against his own observations and cultural beliefs. His is less the act of a rebel and more the act of a mature man. He doesn't replace his old beliefs with anti-ism but rather with a new way of thinking (or, rather, he is waiting and hoping for a new way of thinking when he runs into SG-1). Very cool.

Ascension: Nice alien-visitor episode starring the very sexy Sean Patrick Flanery. It is also a Carter episode that takes place outside the base, which is a nice change. And this episode tells us more about Teal'c's likes: Star Wars!

This episode also includes a great line by Jack. When Carter expresses surprise that he has never seen Star Wars, he says, "Well, you know me and sci-fi."

Absolutely! Sci-fi would be totally normal, everyday life to the people living it.

The Fifth Man: Interesting episode about a being that can insert its way into people's lives and thoughts. This episode establishes a technology/ability that will show up later in a very cool 2-parter. John de Lancie does a great job as the suspicious, antagonistic Colonel Simmons (a kind of terse "Q").

Red Sky: An episode that deals with potential bad consequences of SG-1's gate-travel. Me, I just always figured there was a mop-up crew who came along later to clean up SG-1's loose ends, kind of like the Federation diplomatic core that comes along after Picard ushers a new planet into the Federation and takes off in his ship. (Although in general, SG-1 is more than willing to clean up its own loose ends when it knows about them.)

Rite of Passage: So, little girls from prior seasons do grow up to be obnoxious teenagers. (It is a different actress playing Cassandra although four years can make that big a difference!)

This is one of those episodes which is resolved with people breaking rules in a way that, if the SG-C wasn't such a secret organization, would result in a court-martial.

Beast of Burden: An interesting episode about slavery. The writers did an excellent job demonstrating the matter-of-fact attitude of the slave trader. It is despicable but true to life.

The episode ends in a fairly messy way, but it is one of those episodes where a non-messy solution really isn't possible.

The Tomb: The bugs are back! This time, it is a real bug. Ho hum.

Between Two Fires: This starts out as a murder mystery, morphs into a political-oriented suspense, and turns into preparation for later military-type episodes. In general, this season seems to be about the outcome of unintended consequences.

2001: Nice episode referencing the episode "2010" from Season 4. It also has the feel of Season 4 episodes with Daniel doing archaeological research, Jack pointing out the obvious commonsense solution, and Carter saving the planet.

Desperate Measures: Not a totally uninteresting episode that sets up political and military conflicts for later. However, this episode reminds me that this is the season where Michael Shanks decided to leave (he then came back because in Hollywood a consistent income is harder to come by than even fame and fortune, and he's not an idiot). His decision, or at least part of his decision, was Stargate was no longer telling planet-based narratives, and he was right. The show was beginning to be more about BIG BAD ONGOING PROBLEMS than cohesive "figure out the issue on this particular planet" single story-lines. Episodes still had strong individual arcs but more and more episodes depended on prior events and had military or diplomacy themes. (Return to top.)

Wormhole X-Treme: One of those episodes that spoofs itself. This sort of thing is only possible in later seasons, and it doesn't always work. The problem with a show spoofing itself is that the writers risk losing the show's fans. I think Stargate fans are fun and relaxed enough to grin at some spoofiness. But that's largely because the directors and writers of Stargate are pretty fun and loose people.

When Buffy mocked itself, on the other hand, there was always this feeling that the writers and director Really Meant It. They were using the spoof to comment on the wackiness of fans or the nature of reality. This sort of spoofiness is just tiresome.

In order for a spoof to work it needs to be either fun and cute (not take itself seriously at all) or have heart. When reviewing Princess Bride, I realized that although Goldman is sort of spoofing the fantasy genre, he does it with so much love and affection--heart--it doesn't feel like a spoof. The same is true of Galaxy Quest's spoof of Star Trek. These spoofs are tributes rather than mockeries.

"Wormhole X-Treme" is fun and cute. It has some classic moments like the moment when the director and Martin can't explain why a person out of phase wouldn't fall through the floor; when Peter DeLuise keeps shouting "Bigger" at the prop guys; and when Jack, as the Air Force consultant, keeps suggesting that the characters "just shoot" the aliens ("Sure, why not?"). (Return to top.)

Proving Ground: One of my absolute favorites with Hailey (Elizabeth Rosen) and Lieutenant Elliott (Courtenay Stevens) plus Grace Park from Battlestar Galactica! (This was actually before BG.) I love the ending—a wonderful rite-of-passage-meets-heroism moment.

48 Hours: Another diplomatic/military quagmire where Simmons puts pressure on Hammond to reopen the gate, Daniel deals with angry Russians, and Carter works with McKay to save Teal'c.

Stargate does diplomatic quagmire episodes very well, but I get a tad tired of them. However, this episode does one thing very, very, very, very well: Rodney McKay. I've always been impressed that they let McKay stay McKay. He becomes more likable in Stargate: Atlantis, but he is still McKay.

And I always love it when Maybourne shows up.

Summit & Last Stand: This is one of the few military two-parters that I really, really like. Daniel is used intelligently in this episode as an undercover agent skilled in diplomacy and fluent Goa-uld. Courtenay Vance shows up as Lt. Elliot in a marvelous and touching pay-off for "Proving Ground" (the character really should have his own fan fiction). The mission that SG-1 is on makes sense; it also makes sense to abort it. The new bad guy is introduced in a clever way. Compared to Stargate's 2-part season enders, this 2-parter is in a class by itself. (Return to top.)

Fail Safe: An asteroid is going to hit the earth! I like the use of the SG engineers in the beginning of this episode. Otherwise, it is a pure action episode with a little bit of a twist. Again, it shows the growing difference between this season and the earlier SG-1 seasons. Not a lot of investigating-a-new-place going on!

Warrior: This episode deals with an ongoing issue: what will become of the Jaffa once/if the Goa'uld are destroyed? It also addresses the problem of replacing one obsession with another. The ending is something of a let-down since it fails to address the problem, falling back on "hey, he was a Goa'uld all along!" However, there are two things I like about this episode: (1) Jack's unrepentant attitude that his modern, American, Western, secular view of the universe is in fact a darn good way to view the universe; (2) the explanation for why SG-1 continues to use guns rather than staff weapons even though staff weapons look cooler: guns are just way more practical.

Menace: This is one of those "bring an impossibly dangerous item back through the Stargate" episodes. You'd think General Hammond would stop allowing this to happen.

But it does put a face to the replicators (finally).

The Sentinel: Another ongoing issue episode (in this case, the N.I.D's nefarious behavior). There is a nice character arc/pay-off. Otherwise, this episode definitely confirms Michael Shanks' belief that Stargate was heading in a new direction. The end of Season 5 is considerably different in tone/style from Seasons 1-4.

Meridian: Daniel's death/ascension and the introduction of Jonas Quinn. As a leave-taking, this episode is very well-done with a great heroic sub-plot. Also, we get to see how much Jack's personality/views have rubbed off on Daniel, and I like that Daniel turns to Jack to explain his final decision.

Revelations: And . . . it's back to another military episode. And . . . I already miss Daniel. It's sad that he's not there to deliver deadpan looks when Jack starts rambling ("Don't you think we should put a seat back here?")

The new problem with the Asgard is fairly interesting, but Anubis as the new bad guy is fairly boring. Again, no face. Ho hum.

I do love the little smirk Jack gives at the end of the episode, indicating that he knows Daniel is nearby. Jack's inner certainty dovetails with the Asgard's belief that despite Daniel's more philosophical nature and Carter's genius level intelligence, Jack is representative of the future of the human race. He is both down-to-earth and open-minded, rooted in the present and more than ready to take on the future. His leadership is based on letting other people do their thing, getting input, then making a concrete decision. And he always backs his people.

In fact, Jack is one of the best leaders/centers I've ever seen in an ongoing series. He never fails to interest/amuse, but at the same time, he doesn't hog the story. He's a non-sagging-the-storyline center. (Return to top.)

Even with Season 5's new direction, Stargate is still great sci-fi!

Kate's Criteria for Action Movies

2011-08-18T12:04:00.004-04:00

Although I don't much enjoy pure action books or television series, I rather like a good action movie. Here are my criteria for what makes a good action movie:

1. The hero or heroine is a thinker as well as a fighter.

For example, both Jason Bourne and Tony Stark, although physically adept and more than willing to utilize weapons when necessary, are primarily thinking-men. They problem-solve rather than just react. In fact, in some of my favorites, such The Fugitive, the hero doesn't even fight: Dr. Richard Kimble is entirely a thinking-man (but then, of course, Deputy Marshal Gerard does all the shooting).

2. There is one main character arc.

Sarah Connor accepts her destiny. The Terminator learns to sacrifice. Matt learns to be a hero the John McClane way.

These aren't romance movies. Or family dramas. One emotional change is enough.

3. The action sequences make sense within the world that they occur (mostly). That is, the action sequences don't rely on deux ex machinas (the hand of God).

In the first Terminator movie, Reese can't bring future weaponry back with him from the future. He and Sarah have to rely on conventional means/weaponry to destroy The Terminator. Achieving this is plausible: exploding gasoline and a crushing device can be found in more than one location.

On the other hand, in the second movie (which I quite like) it seems rather too convenient that the nearest factory just happens to contain an open vat of molten steel.

However, even the latter example is not as egregious as human bodies which just magically deflect machine gun fire. In The Matrix, Neo can lift the helicopter because his mind can encompass the possibility. The audience is prepared for just such an occurrence. But that shouldn't happen in any other action film.

4. Set-ups are paid off.

I have written about why I think Die Hard is such a great film. To recap, every single issue/question/character is paid off at the end of the film. There is nothing superfluous, nothing unanswered.

Drama viewers can have their "but real life doesn't have any solutions, life isn't that tidy . . . " blah-de-blahs. Action movies are all about pay-off: the stronger the pay-offs, the better the film.

5. However, the pay-offs should not just be things blowing up.

Things just blowing up is boring. Plinkett has more than adequately explained why the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Star Wars movies suffer so remarkably in comparison to the 4th, 5th, and 6th (the original 1st, 2nd, and 3rd) despite the advancements in digital special effects They have flash and glam but no heart.

As I mention in my Matrix review, the one thing everyone seems to remember from that movie is the cascading machine-gun shells from the helicopter. Simple awesome images last longer than a million kung fu moves.

Which doesn't mean the director should get too arty. Action movies tell a story; that should always be the focus.

6. There is an intimate relationship underlying the film's action.

This can be a romance a la Kimble's memories of his wife in The Fugitive. Or Neo's destined relationship with Trinity in The Matrix.

Or it can be good old-fashioned "guy gets gal"; Reese's quiet enthrallment with Sarah Connor in The Terminator is a great example.

However, the relationship doesn't have to be romantic. McClane's discussions with Gruber in the first Die Hard are like a strong cable line underscoring the movie's action sequences (and were never reproduced to the same effect, no matter how hard the producers tried). Bourne's relationship with Pamela Landy (also by phone) in the second Bourne movie is another great example. McClane's relationship with Matt in Die Hard 4 is a great non-phone example.

7. There's no message or, if there is, it stays in the background.

If you want a MESSAGE, read an editorial. Good fiction delivers its messages through story. Good action, especially, never allows the message to dictate its conclusions or overwhelm its narrative.

One reason I like Iron Man is that although Tony Stark gains a "soul" (or a "heart" as Pepper puts it) when he sees his weapons being misused, his reaction is not to retire to the country, foreswear technology, and start a farm. His solution is to build better technology and take sole responsibility for his misused weapons. This may not satisfy War is Bad advocates, but it sure makes a lot of sense in terms of Tony Stark's personality.

8. There's an adequate villain.

The villain doesn't have to be the most interesting character that ever leered his/her way on film, but a strong villain does give umph to the protagonist's journey. Part of this is the role; part is the actor. I consider Robert Patrick a great (even witty) villainous robot; I found Kristanna Loken (T3) a big bore (Schwarzenegger's Terminator in the first movie is less a villain and more an introduction to a concept). From the Die Hard films, Alan Rickman stands out a mile.

I will settle for one-dimensional heroes (Stane in Iron Man) as long as they don't demand too much screen time. However, in general, I do find the hero's alter-ego or protagonist (Landry, Gerard) more interesting than the straight villain. Pirates owes a great deal of its fun to the noble antagonist (played by the very funny Jack Davenport) on the one hand and the ruffian antagonist (Geoffrey Rush) on the other.

Hugo Weaving as Agent Smith gets his own category.

Kate's List of Good and Great Action Films

Not all my preferred action films meet all my criteria, but most meet most of them.

Die Hard
Die Hard 4: Live Free or Die Hard
Bourne Identity
Bourne Supremacy
The Hunt for Red October (in general, I don't much enjoy spy movies á la Clancy and James Bond, but I like this one)
The Fugitive
Independence Day (no, it doesn't meet most of my criteria, but it's so much gosh darn fun; likewise . . .)
Pirates of the Caribbean (first movie only)
Men in Black*
The Matrix*
Iron Man*
The Terminator*
The Terminator 2*(the theatrical version FIRST)

*I place the last five in action rather than sci-fi/fantasy/superhero genres. Batman Begins is a superhero movie; Ironman is an action movie. The difference, I would say, is the focus on character development. Batman Begins is about Bruce Wayne; Ironman is about Ironman (who happens to be Tony Stark). Likewise, Men in Black is about J (Will Smith), but it is about J as J (more than J as a police officer or individual).

While going through possible action films, I realized that my definition is fairly specific. Witness is suspense/drama; Raiders of the Lost Ark is action. I also realized that I'm far more choosy with action films than I am with any other genre! Go figure!!

The Terminator Review: First Time Viewing!

2011-08-15T18:42:00.001-04:00

So, I finally saw The Terminator, and to be honest, I liked it best out of the three, including the second (I realize there are more, but I've focused on the Schwarzenegger films). I think this is because, out of the three, it rambles the least. There's one story, one main character arc. This is action the way it should be!

To be fair, I am going to re-watch Terminator 2 which, far more than Terminator 3, gives homage to the first movie, and I'm going to watch the theater release, not the director's cut.

Here's the thing about Cameron: when he can get away with it, he rambles. Take Titanic. The roaming-the-bowels-of-the-ship sequences go on FOREVER. I like action sequences, but they have to be tight, short, and make sense. Action sequences that go on and on and on bore me to death.

So I was pleasantly surprised with The Terminator because of how quickly the action sequences are resolved. I admit, I wandered away at the end because I thought--a la Terminator 2--that the factory sequence would go on for ten minutes or so. And I had to rewind!

I was also pleasantly surprised by how much sci-fi background there is. I always had this idea that The Terminator was pure horror: big-scary-machine; RUN, good guys, RUN; more big-scary-machine; RUN, RUN, RUN! The back-flashes are well-done and illuminating (more on these later).

I'd also gotten the idea that the first movie was old-fashioned horror--you know, where the girl is blond and stupid and can't do anything. When Terminator 2 came out, reviewers made a big deal about Linda Hamilton's new look/role--G.I. Jane-ish.

But, actually, she undergoes a very believable arc in the first movie from innocent, normal, everyday young woman to "the legend" that Kyle believes her to be. The arc also gives pathos to her downward spiral at the beginning of Terminator 2: Kyle will always be the one guy who had her back, and no guy will ever live up to him.

Okay, here are my beefs: Cameron has a tendency to establish interesting characters and then kill them off without a shrug instead of using easy and far more interesting pay-offs. The two police officers at the beginning are really interesting; I would have liked to see them play bigger roles. For example, they could have decided to free Kyle when the Terminator showed up--easy pay-off.

Kyle Reese is by far the most interesting person in the film, especially with the flash-backs. Why weren't the flash-backs paid off? I think the movie should have ended with another flash-back: right after Sarah leaves the factory, we flash-back to Kyle meeting the grown-up John Connor. John Connor has something (memento) that indicates to the audience that Kyle is his father (this is a memento Kyle would obviously had to have picked up when he first showed up in the 80's, something he later gives to Sarah). John asks Kyle again if he wants to go back; Kyle says, "Yes." End of movie. The audience is left going, "Oh, wow, hey, did you figure it out?"

As it ends now, Kyle's death is well-done (being the worst of the many losses Sarah suffers, preparing us for her kamikaze behavior in the second movie), but his story should have been completed.

Whatever its minor flaws, the movie definitely has presence. The mythology may not have been fully fleshed-out, but the material is there. I'm not surprised they made another!

And I finally get the line, "I'll be back." It is a way better line in the movie than I've ever heard it quoted. In the movie, the Terminator doesn't mean it as a threat, and Schwarzenegger doesn't say it that way. He is being completely literal: "I'll be back." It just sounds scary because he is so dead-pan (and has that accent).

The Classic James Blish

2011-08-05T15:44:00.001-04:00

When I was growing up, one of my brothers (or several) owned a number of James Blish's Star Trek adaptations (short stories based on Classic Trek scripts). I had been exposed to the show before I borrowed the books (I was probably around 10 years old). At the time, I was not impressed. I was expecting something more along the lines of Diane Duane's Star Trek books which use third-person limited and deliver a far amount of psychology alongside good action narratives. (In fact, Duane is just about the only Star Trek writer I trust. I feel like she captures the characters' personalities and doesn't play havoc with either the ethics or the science of the Trek universe.)

However, recently I pick up a few Blish adaptations (Star Treks 1, 2, 3 and 4) at the local library, and I have been seriously impressed by his writing.

Here's why:

1. He doesn't retell the scripts.

Many writers (and students writing about literature) do this. They don't summarize the story in their heads and then retell it in the order that makes sense; they start at point A and proceed through points B, C, and D, even if C is a back-flash and should have been dealt with first. This also happens quite often on sites like the Internet Movie Database. Some people know how to summarize the essence of an episode. Some people only know how to tell you what happened in the order they saw it. I've read summaries on IMDB that made an episode sound FAR more convoluted than it actually was.

Blish is a master at providing the essence. He doesn't retell every incident in the episode, only the ones that hold the narrative together.

2. Blish retains (mostly) a single point of view.

In most of the stories I've read, he uses Kirk's point of view. His voice is third-person omniscient, so he can dive into other people's heads if he wants/needs, but he rarely strays too far from Kirk's mind. Consequently, we are spared a lot of "red-shirt" deaths, which is all to the good, frankly.

Out-of-Kirk's-experience events are summarized in tight paragraphs of exposition. This doesn't mean the writing is all exposition. Most of it is dialog between Kirk and others. Impressively, the dialog doesn't have that taken-directly-from-a-script sound ("There is a monster on the planet," Kirk said. "We must go get it," Spock said. "What do you want me to do, sir?" the red-shirt said.). Blish knew how to write dialog himself, so his dialog-from-the-script has a natural feel/flow. (Writing for the camera truly is different from writing for a short story/novel.)

3. Blish knows how to start a story.

To be honest, I like reading his beginnings more than anything else. Here are some samples:

Simon van Gelder came aboard the Enterprise from the Tantalus Penal Colony via transporter, inside a box addressed to the Bureau of Penology in Stockholm--a desperate measure, but not a particularly intelligent one, as was inevitable under the circumstances. ("Dagger of the Mind")

The Enterprise weathered the ion storm somehow, but one man was dead, and damage to the ship was considerable. ("Court Martial")

Two drops of cordrazine can save a man's life. Ten drops of that unpredictable drug will sometimes kill. When a defective hypospray went off in McCoy's hand, a hundred times that amount was pumped into his body in a split second. ("The City on the Edge of Forever")

The star was very old--as old as it is possible for a star to be, a first-generation star, born when the present universe was born . . . It had become a black star . . . The Enterprise, on a rare trip back toward the Sol sector and Earth, hit the black star traveling at warp factor four--sixty-four times the speed of light. ("Tomorrow is Yesterday")

Blish deserves his place as the first adapter of Star Trek stories. And for straight action story-telling, he definitely deserves to be read and emulated!

Stargate: Season 4 Review

2011-08-01T15:31:00.004-04:00

I continue my review of Stargate episodes (I didn't forget!) with references to The Matrix, amnesia, the purpose of sci-fi villains, and Star Trek's strengths and weaknesses.

Episode #1: Small Victories--Part two of Season 3 season ender. It is somewhat more interesting than the first part. Still, bugs . . . yawn. I really do need a face to my villains, even if the villains are mechanical. Take The Matrix: so, the villains are the machines or whatever, but the villains' representative still wears a human face and has human emotions.

Episode #2: The Other Side--One of Stargate's best episodes, starring the excellent Rene Auberjonois. Imagine that aliens finally contact us; they turned out to be human and . . . a bunch of Nazis. "The Other Side" is a really interesting episode about intentions and perceptions and contains some good argument scenes between Daniel and Jack.

Episode #3: Upgrades--Okay episode that introduces Tok'ra chick Anise played by Vanessa Angel. Several years ago, I was told that Anise was supposed to be Stargate's 7-of-9 (this was after 7-of-9 became really big news). If so, it didn't really work; the women on Stargate dress way too comfortably for Anise's uniform to make much sense.

Episode #4: Crossroads--Pretty good episode with Sela Ward look-a-like Musetta Vander. Turns out, Vander was on Buffy! There must be a I-will-do-fantasy-and-sci-fi circuit amongst Hollywood actors. I've always been proud of Frasier actors Kelsey Grammar and Bebe Neuwirth for willingly doing Star Trek: Next Generation episodes despite their slots in "real life" drama shows.

Episode #5: Divide and Conquer--Good episode which, unfortunately, disposes of Martouf (JR Bourne). I guess the writers decided they'd done as much with this character as they could (although I like Martouf, I think they were right). The episode also refers to the ongoing but in no way intrusive romantic attachment between Carter and Jack. This isn't Bones-Booth romantic stuff; it's pretty low key. (But it's there. One minor problem with early seasons of Stargate: Atlantis is that Sheppard doesn't have a honey; personally, I think his honey should be Teyla: together, they would make the most laid-back couple in television history.)

Episode #6: Window of Opportunity--Probably the first episode of Stargate I ever saw. I began rewatching the show several years ago to find this particular episode. I finally did in Season 4! It is a time-loop episode, a la Groundhog Day. Very well done.

Episode #7: Watergate--Interesting idea; I always like episodes with underwater civilizations. However, despite the presence of Marina Sirtis (Star Trek: Next Generation), it's kind of boring.

Episode #8: The First Ones--Nice anthropological episode which adds more information to the Goa'uld mythology.

Episode #9: Scorched Earth--Okay episode that sets the needs of an unknown and bizarre alien race against the needs of a known and relatable alien race. Stargate does these types of episodes very well by creating tension without messaging: both positions have merit.

Episode #10: Beneath the Surface--Possibly my favorite Stargate episode ever! Our intrepid heroes have been sent to work in an underground city. Their memories have been manipulated; they don't know who they are and don't realize they know each other. Over the course of the episode, they remember who they become friends and work together to escape/solve the problem.

If I ever suffered from amnesia in reality, I'm sure it would be horrible. But literarily-speaking, it fascinates me. I think my fascination has to do with the elements of personality: who are we? Are we an accumulation of our experiences? Probably. But what happens when the experiences are gone? What is left? Do we become new people? Do we revert to a basic blueprint? Do we perceive ourselves differently and, if so, how much does that affect how others perceive us?

Episode #11: Point of No Return--Cute episode that is actually funnier after a few viewings. Another of Teal'c's "likes" is presented in this episode. He likes vibrating, hotel beds. (We later learn that he also likes Star Wars and toy laser guns.)

Episode #12: Tangent--Pretty good Apollo 13-like episode. And it's always nice to see Carmen Argenziano (although I now thoroughly associate him with House; he is the older doctor in the fourth season of House, the one who never actually graduated from medical school and is too much like House to be chosen).

Episode #13: The Curse--Okay episode introducing another bad Goa'uld: Osiris. By the way, the chick playing Sarah, Anna-Louise Plowman, is married to Toby Stephens. (As I continue my hobby of identifying British and American actors in bit parts!)

Episode #14: The Serpent's Venom--One of Stargate's military strategy episodes. Teal'c gets tortured. There's a bomb. It's kind of boring.

Episode #15: Chain Reaction--This is one of those episodes where the problem has zero impact unless the viewer is already invested in the show/characters. This kind of thing is allowable once a show gathers a fan-base, but it always makes me wince. It is also, as Jack would say, a "a cloak and dagger-y" episode which, in general, isn't really my cup of tea. But Maybourne shows up!

Episode #16: 2010--Neat episode that I reviewed for the Mike-Kate Video Club.

Episode #17: Absolute Power--A Michael Shanks-focused episode where he gets to go bad (but it's only a dream). This episode makes clear why the Goa'uld aren't dealt with diplomatically:

One smart thing that Stargate does is to make their villains completely villainous. The Wraith in Stargate: Atlantis have an ambiguous side—leading to the creation of the marvelously conflicted Michael played by Connor Trinneer—but their needs make them "givens" as enemies.

The Goa'uld are just bad (the ambiguity is supplied by the Tok'ra). This does two things: (1) it prevents Stargate having to apologize for being a military/warrior show; (2) it keeps Stargate mythic. In myth, although Hercules does in fact apologize for a lot of things, he doesn't apologize for being a fighter. Similarly, Stargate heroes don't apologize for saving the universe ("Oh, wait, maybe we should have tried to understand the creatures who want to put snakes in our bodies!") Jean-Luc Picard can do this kind of over-the-top diplomacy because he is Patrick Stewart and everything Patrick Stewart does has a patina of gravitas. But nobody else should do it in sci-fi.

The Stargate writers demonstrate their wisdom and skill again in this episode. They resolve another of Daniel's story arcs. Instead of forcing us to watch all 10 seasons of Stargate to find the Harcesis, they bring him up, deal with him, and dispose of him in one episode. Kudos!

Episode #18: The Light--One of my favorites although I'm not sure why. I don't really like angst, but I guess I like mental anguish, such as Daniel's breakdown at his apartment. There is also a mystery that needs to be solved. (As mentioned in my review of Season 3, Michael Shanks tends to be the main character in episodes that are more archaeology/team-oriented as opposed to battle-oriented. I prefer the latter to the former, so I tend to refer to Daniel/Shanks a lot.)

Episode #19: Prodigy--Introduction of that fantastic "4'9" fighting machine" Hailey (Elizabeth Rosen) who shows up in the later episode "Proving Ground" with the excellent Courtenay Stevens as Lieutenant Elliott.

Episode #20: Entity--Supercomputer-as-antagonist is about as boring to me as mechanical bugs-as- antagonist. And I just can't buy the whole "consciousness can be transferred in and out of a computer" thing. Oh, well, I guess these episodes have to be done. The script does have some nice moments that highlight the differences between Daniel and Jack/Teal'c.

Episode #21: Double Jeopardy--This is quite a nice pay-off to the robot story ("Tin Man" in Season 1) and to the Cronus & Teal'c story. One downside: the writers really should have said what happened to the de-activated robots at the end, but I guess they were worried the information would create too many problems for future episodes. They didn't want the viewers expecting the robots to show up every other episode!

This is all to say, Stargate writers are even more fanatical than Star Trek writers about not leaving open-endings. On the one hand, as in Star Trek--especially Star Trek: Voyager--this sometimes strains one's credulity. On the other hand, I love single-story episodes and I really admire how completely cavalier Stargate is (even more than Star Trek) about avoiding soap-opera tangents. Their attitude is "this will cause us problems later; okay, let's just not deal with it!" There's something enormously refreshing about this type of approach.

Sidenote: The Battlestar Galactica folks were also heavily influenced by Star Trek; in fact, some of them worked for the Star Trek franchise. However, unlike the Stargate people, who never lost a healthy respect for Star Trek's fame, the Battlestar Galactica folks acted like whiny rebellious teenagers: Oh, we are so NOT going to do what Star Trek did! Nah nah nah.

This was a major throwing-out-babies-with-bathwater mistake. Changing the format is one thing. Going against it is just stupid.

Although . . .

Episode #22: Exodus--This episode reminds me of David Gerrold's analysis of Star Trek's weaknesses in his book The Making of Star Trek. David Gerrold points out that "Kirk in danger" episodes get tedious pretty fast (Kirk is in danger from the supercomputer! Kirk is in danger from the evil body-less psychopath! Kirk is in danger from the evil green monster-thing!).

Good drama (even action drama, I would argue) is better when it is about making decisions. Die Hard is a great action movie because Bruce Willis can't just blow things up; he has to make decisions about which course of action to take. Actually, he has to make the decision to get involved which influences how he gets involved.

Stargate military strategy episodes, unfortunately, have a tendency to focus on "the one thing that will save the earth!" We have to kill a bunch of mechanical bug! We have to blow up a sun! We have to . . .

And it gets old. It is much more interesting when someone has to make a decision. So, for example, in this season, my favorites almost all involve making a decision of some kind:

"Other Side"--Jack makes a decision about who to trust when he sees how Alar treats Teal'c.
"Window of Opportunity"--the archaeologist makes a decision when Jack reveals to him how he feels about his own child's death.
"Beneath the Surface"--the team make the decision to trust each other and care about something bigger than their current circumstances.
"2010"--okay, this is a "must do one thing to save the earth!" episode. Sci-fi action/drama shows are allowed a few plus the "one thing" is pretty interesting.
"Absolute Power"--Daniel makes a decision about what to do with the Harcesis (the potential for unlimited knowledge).
"The Light"--the boy makes a decision to trust Jack and turn off the machine.
"Prodigy"--Jack makes a decision about how the team should escape/deal with the attacking aliens. (The action sequences are directly impacted by Jack's decision; the decision isn't simply one of a series of actions.)

On to Season 5!

The Unkind Treatment of the Romance Genre

2011-07-22T11:22:00.000-04:00

In David Gerrold's The World of Star Trek, he presents one of the best definitions of romance novels every made. Speaking of female fans' reactions to Leonard Nimoy's Spock, he writes, "The pointed ears and arched eyebrows suggested great strength and masculinity with a healthy hint of controlled evil. But Spock's conscious suppression of emotion, as well as his unavailability as a sexual object, made him (in the words of one of these young ladies), 'A safe rape. You could love him without risking your virginity" (Gerrold's emphasis). Gerrold continues, "Each of these [women] believed that she was the one who could warm up Mr. Spock. If she could be given half a chance, she could get through to him."

This is romance fiction at its most basic. The male is inevitably strong, dangerous, but--through a hard, disillusioning life--has learned to control his base instincts . . . until he meets the one woman who overwhelms him sensually and intellectually, restoring him to a socially-acceptable, constructive life.

In my novella Mr. B Speaks!, the Committee for Literary Fairness is appalled by the possibility that Pamela might be construed as this type a romance novel. When a romance genre expert shows up, the committee take exception:

“I review romance novels,” said Deborah.
Gary [Professor Just-Call-Me-Gary] and Dr. Matchel looked pained, but the judge set down a folder and said, “Really? Would you call this novel a romance?”
“Sort of,” Deborah said. “It’s really more a polemic about education and servants and stuff. But it has a lot of the same material you’d find in a romance novel.”
“Such as?”
Dr. Matchel objected: “A discussion of romance novels is hardly appropriate.”
“We are looking for established literary customs,” the judge said briskly. “What are the romantic components in Pamela, Miss Walsh?”
“There’s a heroine, first of all, and she’s good—you know, virtuous. And there’s a hero, and he’s a rake. And he pursues her and sometimes gets her into bed, but he always backs off when she says no, and then they reconcile, and then they marry.”
Dr. Matchel cried, “These romance novels have done more to undermine women’s rights than any other type of literature.”
“Oh, that’s old-school,” Deborah said. “Like people who think women should only have supported Hillary in 2008.”
The judge said, “Do other eighteenth-century novels share these components?”
“No!” Dr. Matchel said, but Leslie Quinn said, “Yes. Novels for the middle-class. Broadsheets. The romantic romance isn’t new. Everyone likes a juicy story.”
The judge glanced at Mr. B who looked rather shell-shocked. The judge couldn’t blame him. Mr. B was being depicted as either a lecher or a champion. Personally, the judge thought both roles would prove uncomfortable.

Dr. Matchel and Gary's shock and discomfort is something I have encountered in academic settings. The specific shock is aimed at the low character of romances; the general shock is over the low character of genre writing (see Eugene's lastest post for some thoughts on high versus low literature). It's okay to read stuff like romances for fun, but it's not okay to talk about it (though if you must, be sure to call it "erotica").

I think this discomfort misses the point (as so many academic reactions do). There are badly written romances. There are also well-written ones. But any piece of literature that people actually care about is going to grapple with human emotions. And this is exactly what romances do. The characteristics/reactions that Gerrold listed aren't silly or wrong-headed or simply the product of undeveloped minds. I might not care for them when they show up in Twilight, but I recognize their power, their force, in male/female relationships: their reality. As Mr. B ponders at one point during the trial:

Simply not having sex was unthinkable. He could hardly handle sleeping alone. And Pamela was an eager participant in the marriage bed whatever his detractors might think.
They were an odd people, these twenty-first-century inhabitants—far more obsessed with sex than most libertines, but strangely repressive and easily shocked. Only this idealistic young girl [Deborah, the romance reviewer], who reminded him of his oldest daughter, seemed to take him at face value.

Although the true problem could be that romance novels just aren't angsty enough!

Gary rolled his eyes. “And, of course, romance novels always have perfect weddings.”
“Of course.”
“The whole novel is nothing but trite and shallow pandering,” Gary declaimed. “What about death, disease, poverty, slavery, racism—all the terrible issues of the eighteenth century? Hmm? I mean women couldn’t even vote! But no, we’re fixated on watching an inconsequential couple tie the knot.”
The judge glanced towards the characters’ table. Mr. B was still smiling faintly. He hadn’t flinched at being called “inconsequential.” Presumably, people of the eighteenth century were less obsessed with getting their “day in court” than people of the twenty-first.
The judge reminded himself not to chuckle at his own pun.
“People hid their heads in the sand,” Gary was still declaiming. “Just like they do today.”
Deborah said, “That sounds like the end of a lecture,” and Gary reddened.
She was probably right, but the judge didn’t want audience members giving the CLF any (more) reason to complain.
He said pacifically, “Different novels cover different topics.”
Leslie Quinn agreed, “People in the eighteenth century still had to work, love, have children, get along. Those topics never go away.”
Dr. Matchel said, “But romance novels don’t deal with real domestic problems. They end with the wedding, giving readers the false impression that married life will be eternally happy. Escapist literature!”
“This novel doesn’t end with the wedding,” Lonquist said.
Mr. Shorter muttered, “What’s wrong with escapism?”
Deborah added, “Dark and depressing isn’t automatically profound.”
“Let’s hear about the wedding,” the judge said.

Like Deborah (hey, she is my character), I don't think there is a pscyho-literary (acceptably literary explanation) for romance novels: “Some scholars think the hero actually represents the dark side of the female psyche—the whole thing is sort of Jungian . . . Yes, I know. I think it’s farfetched too. But the point is, the heroine is never completely at odds with the hero.” Rather, I think romance novels are delving into id stuff--stuff that's messy and uncertain and earthy. It's what Barthes called jouissance, delight in the bodily elements. Of course, Barthes had to put a label on it and make it sound literary when any woman over the age of 12 could just tell you that it's about the male/female relationship, both the cerebral and carnal sides as well as the gentle and less gentle sides: the fear that both sexes have towards each other and the possible delight.

And it's not going to go away.

Terminator 2

2011-07-21T22:46:00.003-04:00

So I finally saw Terminator 2.

Which is an odd statement to make because I've never seen Terminator 1.

Not that it's all that necessary. Linda Hamilton and guy-from-the-future run from The Terminator. They fall in love, consummate the relationship, kill The Terminator. End of story.

In general, Terminator 2 interested me more, mostly for Robert Patrick, and it is easy to see why this particular movie made him an iconic sci-fi image in his own right. For a part with very, very few lines and very, very little emoting, he manages to sustain a believably villainous robotic persona throughout the entire movie. You can SEE his gears turning over when he processes particular actions. And he gets some exceedingly dry, understated funny moments.

Unfortunately, other than Robert Patrick, Schwarzenegger more than adequately playing Schwarzenegger, two or three scenes with the marvelous Xander Berkeley (he plays the foster dad), the completely underused Joe Morton, the nice cameo of Michael Biehn as Kyle (I watched the extended version), the acting is fairly awful.

Linda Hamilton is at least cool to look at. But Edward Furlong is bad beyond belief. And, surely, there were other child actors available!? For such an important role?!

On top of which, the movie itself isn't all that good. I think my expectations were too high. But it was typical Cameron: lots of flash and glam, little underlying grit.

There's lots THERE. But it's all over the place: are we supposed to get invested in Sarah Connor's search for a father for John (one of the more interesting parts of the film)? Or in John Connor's maturing process? Or in The Terminator's humanizing process? Or in Miles Dyson's decision to give up his important and, possibly, positive research because a bunch of psychopaths tell him he'll cause Armageddon?

Geez, at least T-1000 just does his job.

The movie seems to waver all over the place, and it made me realize why Avatar would likely be a waste of my time. A good action movie should have one main objective (stop the bank robbers) with one main character arc (I can inspire my partner to step up to the plate). Terminator 2 has about 50 objectives and character arcs, but it doesn't deal with any of them on a full-time basis.

Having said all that, I HAVE come to realize why the Terminator mythology has spawned such a following. The mythology is more than a little cool. The possibilities (the questions listed above) could each take their own graphic novel or book to explore. And I can think of more--like how about reprogramming T-1000 to be good? Or having John Connor take over Cyberdyne and create a more robot/human-friendly future (a la Asimov)?

Besides, it may not be the greatest movie in the world, but at least it isn't "literary".

The Partners of Detective Logan

2011-07-18T20:02:00.014-04:00

Detective Logan (played by Chris Noth) on Law & Order has had several excellent partners:

Sergent Max Greevey (George Dzunda) is Logan's buddy. His married-with-kids lifestyle complements Logan's carefree, somewhat secular, bachelor existence. In one of my favorite episodes ("Sonata for Solo Organ"), he giggles like an adorable teddy-bear over Logan's outrageous flirting. Despite being amused by Logan, Greevey sees his life as the more stable and productive. He is also more conservative than Logan as indicated in the episode "Prisoner of Love" where he tries to remove himself from the case because of the victim's kinky lifestyle.

Logan and Greevey, though different, rarely argue or disagree. They behave like men who are thoroughly used to, and comfortable with, each other.

Sergent Phil Cerreta (Paul Sorvino) has a much more fatherly attitude towards Logan. Of all Logan's partners, he most often refers to Logan as "Mikey." Like Greevey, Cerreta is a married man with kids, but he comes across as more at ease in his own skin In "Self Defense," he testifies against the prosecution; although he didn't approach the defense, he makes clear to Stone, without apology, that he will say exactly what he thinks on the stand, even if what he says helps the defense.

Logan often argues with Cerreta, but he will bow to his partner's point of view, especially when dealing with the D.A.s.

Detective Lennie Briscoe (played by the gentlemanly Jerry Orbach) is Logan's mirror-self. He IS Logan, all grown-up and divorced. They not only have similar builds (tall and lanky), they share similar views of the world. They are also similar in their sometimes inappropriate, non-PC behavior. Logan, who never warms to his partners immediately, has a harder time warming to Briscoe than to the others mostly due to Briscoe's blunt-speak. (Briscoe is more diplomatic than Logan gives him credit for; although he knows Cerreta won't be returning to duty, he allows Logan to figure this out in his own time.)

When Logan becomes part of the Major Case squad (Law & Order: Criminal Intent), he gets two partners in succession. His first, Detective Carolyn Barek (Anabella Sciorra) is an interesting character but ultimately not a good mirror to Logan (Noth).

To elucidate: D'Onofrio's Criminal Intent character, Goren, needs a "passer"--another character to feed him behaviors, attitudes, and lines. This sounds belittling to his partner (Eames played by Kathryn Erbe), but from a writing point of view, it is a valuable skill, and Erbe is very good at it. (She's so good, it is necessary to rewatch episodes several times to realize how quietly and unobtrusively she helps a scene move towards a denouement. Unfortunately, the ability to "assist" is often ignored in Hollywood--though not, thank goodness, in basketball. Kudos John Stockton!)

Noth's character, on the other hand, needs a mirror--a character that highlights parts of Logan's personality by revealing his similarities or differences to his partners. And Barek was too different, too remote, too self-contained to do this effectively.

Detective Megan Wheeler (played by Julianne Nicholson), on the other hand, is a truly inspired piece of writing/casting. She is perfect as Logan's mirror. For one, Nicholson's unique and utterly bone-centered beauty matches Noth's handsomeness. For another, Wheeler's comparative youth highlights Logan's (slightly) mellowed middle-age plus his hands-on attitude. And her tentative loyalty is something that Logan badly needs.

I do find it interesting, and intelligent, that Noth and D'Onofrio are rarely paired together. Not only are both guys SO HUGE they tend to physically dwarf scenes they are in (hey, is anyone else in that room?), they are both chew-the-scenery guys. With Noth, this is simply a matter of innate and rather remarkable charisma. With D'Onofrio, it is how he tackles scripts, so the audience feels exposed to Goren's inner life in every scene. When they are together, there is rarely any balance.

Apart, however, they've got good partners! And Logan has been blessed with fine ones throughout his career.

(I am aware that the above post skips between discussing the characters from an "outside" point of view and discussing them from within the fictional world. This is the sort of thing that annoys Wikipedia editors, but what-the-hey, I'm aware of both things when I watch a show, so I figured I'd combine them here.)

A Man of Few Words, Second Edition!

2011-07-11T16:24:00.003-04:00

The second edition of A Man of Few Words is now available on Amazon Kindle!

A character study, A Man of Few Words explores Jane Austen’s Fitzwilliam Darcy as he responds to canonical events within Pride & Prejudice. Darcy’s delight, heartbreak, and occasional confusion are carefully detailed. Although containing new scenes and dialog heretofore unreported, A Man of Few Words concentrates on the life-altering moments selected by Austen and remains true to Austen’s original intent. A Man of Few Words does not alter Darcy's history; rather, it reveals the mental viewpoint and cogitation of this most celebrated romantic hero.

To clarify, the second edition contains more of Darcy's inner-life from his analysis of Mr. Bennet's character to his worries about his unmanageable hair to his in-depth reflections on the purpose of social interactions. There are a few additional scenes, but most additions focus on elucidating Darcy's character.

Currently, the second edition is only available through Kindle. It will appear on other sites, including Smashwords, at a later date.

Mr. B Speaks! can now be found on the Nook and Diesel.

The Humor of 18th Century Writers--Really!

2011-07-05T11:30:00.000-04:00

Humor is surprisingly non-translatable. A few years ago, in a forlorn effort to compete with American Idol, another network held a talent contest which included a humor section. The producers eventually dumped the humor section. Unlike singing (one is either on key or not), humor is so entirely personal and subjective, the judges and contestants and audience were continually at odds.

On the other hand, laughing at puns and prat-falls is part of the human condition. Shakespeare is very funny although in his case, a literal translation (what do those words mean?) helps.

In writing Mr. B Speaks! I wanted to show how (deliberately) funny Richardson could be. In my novella, much of Mr. B's testimony (where he retells the story of Pamela), especially his recitation of the dialog, matches the original text (only, not as wordy).

Pamela herself is not always amusing. The text's humor arises from the quick-fire exchanges between Pamela and Mr. B. Like Bones and Booth, Nick and Nora, Pamela and Mr. B thrive on playing off each others' words. (This is one reason the second book is markedly less successful than the first, although still interesting: Pamela and Mr. B are reduced to fighting and making up rather than verbally sparring.)

Pamela is the perfect straight-woman.

The following scene, which is recounted by Pamela in Letter XVI, shows how Pamela will take hold of Mr. B's words to support her own argument.

I’d stopped by Mrs. Jervis’s parlor to tell her my travel plans to Lincolnshire where our family’s original estate is located. She was interviewing a farmer’s daughter; I didn’t want to disturb them, so I went to the back parlor and rang for Mrs. Jervis.

"Is your visitor Farmer Nichols or Farmer Brady’s daughter?" I asked when she arrived.

She laughed. "If your honor won’t be angry, I will introduce her, for I think she outdoes our Pamela."

And she brought in Pamela dressed in plain muslin with a black silk kerchief and a straw hat on her head.

A country miss, in fact. Pamela is no fool; she knows clothes make the station.

I got up and came around the oak writing desk. "You are far prettier than your sister Pamela," I said.

"I am Pamela," she told me with a quick upwards glance.

"Impossible," I said. "I can be free with you," and I kissed her lightly on the lips.

She bolted out of the room. Mrs. Jervis clucked.

"What’s she up to?" I said.

"It’s her new wardrobe. She’s been collecting odds and ends over the last week or so."

Damn Pamela and her practicality.

"Get in here," I yelled towards the door, and Pamela sidled in, scowling. "This is pure hypocrisy," I said, waving my hand at the country dress. Pamela didn’t want the life that dress represented.

"I’ve been in disguise ever since your mother brought me here. These clothes are more suitable to my degree."

I was leaning against the desk, my face almost level with Pamela’s. We studied each other, and I noted her set lips and dark, unhappy eyes.

"Oh, Pamela," I said and drew her into my arms.

She didn’t struggle—not this time. "You have to leave," I said to her hair, "only I don’t want that." She tensed instantly, but I strengthened my hold, and she relaxed again, her cheek against my waistcoat. Poor Pamela sent off in disgrace to a life that would sap her dry.

I let her go and addressed Mrs. Jervis. "I’ll submit myself to this hussy for a fortnight and then send her to my sister. Do you hear what I say, statue?"

And Pamela muttered, "I might be in danger from her ladyship’s nephew."

Never imagine that Pamela’s memory is bad. [Mr. B earlier resisted sending Pamela to his sister's because of the nephew.]

"Damned impertinence," I said.

"What have I done that you treat me worse than if I robbed you?"

I almost laughed then because whatever was between me and Pamela was very much like being robbed—of sense or self-preservation.

She wasn’t done. "Why should you demean yourself to notice me? Why should I suffer more than others?"

"You have distinguished yourself above the common servant," I said. She couldn’t have it both ways—she couldn’t write and read and befriend Mrs. Jervis and then want me to treat her like a scullery maid. "Didn’t my good mother desire I take care of you?"

She muttered. I took her chin and forced it up, and she said, nearly spitting, "My good lady did not desire your care to extend to the summer-house and dressing room."

The latter part of the argument is described thus in the original text:

Do you hear, Mrs. Jervis, cried he again, how pertly I am interrogated by this saucy slut? Why, sauce-box, says he, did not my good mother desire me to take care of you? And have you not been always distinguished by me, above a common servant? And does your ingratitude upbraid me for this?

I said something mutteringly, and he vowed he would hear it. I begged excuse; but he insisted upon it. Why, then, said I, if your honour must know, I said, That my good lady did not desire your care to extend to the summer-house, and her dressing-room.

Which brings me to the issue of Pamela's "sauciness." (She is described this way more than any other.) The word sounds coy and playful and when I first started working on Mr. B Speaks! I was confused by the disparity between Pamela's acerbic comments, Mr. B's reactions, and the references to her as some kind of giggling flirt.

However, in the second book, Pamela writes a letter to Lady Danvers in which she describes her personality: I am naturally of a saucy temper: and with all my appearance of meekness and humility, can resent, and sting too, when I think myself provoked.

In this context, "saucy" clearly does not denote pleasant flirting but rather sarcastic zingers. This is far more in keeping with Pamela's personality as delineated by Richardson in the first novel. Although Pamela is often portrayed by anti-Pamelites as leading Mr. B on, she is actually fighting to preserve her own space with the best tool available: her quick tongue.

She could hardly anticipate Mr. B would get a huge kick out of verbal sparring!

Pamela didn’t want me to read the letters; she was worried I would be offended by their bluntness. I couldn’t imagine Pamela could be blunter to the page than she was to my face, but I told her to have more confidence in me. I wanted the honest Pamela, not the Pamela who spoke round and round and round a topic, hiding her thoughts and motives.

"I have read many of your barbed reflections," I said. "And yet I’ve never upbraided you on that score." Not very often, at least.

"As long as you remember I wrote the truth from my heart," she said, "and that I had the right to defy this forced and illegal restraint."

"You have a powerful advocate in me," I said and went to my library to read.

The packet contained not only Pamela’s letters to her parents but letters from Williams [a clergyman who proposed to Pamela] and drafts of Pamela’s letters to him. I glowered over them. Pamela had certainly pled her case to Williams most affectingly, and he had definitely presented himself as more a romantic than disinterested savior.

"Do you find I encouraged his proposal?" Pamela said when I called her down and taxed her about her "love letters."

I didn’t, but, "What about the letters before these?" I said. The ones I had started nearly two weeks after I sent Pamela to Lincolnshire. I knew from Mrs. Jewkes that Pamela and Williams began corresponding immediately after her arrival.

"My father has them."

I remembered then that Mrs. Jewkes believed Pamela had given Williams a packet to send to her parents. Mrs. Jewkes had tried to retrieve it by arranging an attack on the poor man. I would not have condoned such a crude scheme, especially since it failed in its purpose.

"I want to read everything you’ve written," I said. "You create a pretty tale of romance around your troubles."

She raised her chin. "You jeer at my misfortunes."

"Considering the liberties you take with my character," I said, brandishing the letters, "I’d say we are equally outspoken."

"I would not have taken liberties if you had not given me cause. The cause, sir, comes before the effect." Pamela’s voice gets quite steely when she’s riled. I held back a smile.

"You chop logic very prettily. What the deuce do men go to school for?"

"You wouldn’t mock me if I were dull."

"I wouldn’t love you half so well," I pointed out.

She flushed. "I’d be better off married to a plough-boy," she told the worn rug, which she knew and I knew wasn’t true.

"One of us fox-hunters would still have found you," I said. I hoped I would have found her. I couldn’t imagine never having met Pamela. "What about the most recent letters, the ones after these? Are they on your person?" And when she remained silent, "You know criminals who don’t confess are tortured."

"Torture is not used in England," she retorted.

"Oh, my torture will fit the crime," I said. "I’m going to strip you, Pamela." I crossed to her and began to slowly untie the lace handkerchief that masked her bosom. She gazed at me, open-mouth, and for a heart-stopping moment, I thought she wouldn’t stop me. But she slapped my hand and darted backwards.

"You’ll give me the letters?" I said.

"Yes," she said and fled.

The underlying sexual threat is something I plan to address in a later post. It is also the one area where Pamela is not completely comfortable. The rather remarkable thing about Richardson is that he was a great observer of human nature. When Pamela actually does behave her age (and isn't just acting a spokesperson for Richardson), she behaves that age with utter believability. Like many a teenage girl, she can be ironic and sarcastic and sardonic and, frankly, rather obnoxious--but, when placed in a setting outside her knowledge, she will get completely bewildered and scared.

Unfortunately, Richardson didn't have the consistency of characterization that would place him at the forefront of English novelists (and I'm not sure he cared), but he definitely had the skill to create strong--and witty--characters.

Tony DiNozzo, Jr. and Sr.

2011-06-29T14:01:00.003-04:00

I am in the middle of Season 7 (through Netflix) right now. From a mystery point of view, the writing is a tad weak. Like with many, many mystery shows (Murder She Wrote is a good example), this season relies a tad too much on the "least likely suspect." It's the bellboy! No, it's the person who waters the plants!

"Flesh and Blood," however, is an excellent episode. Whoever is writing Tony Dinozzo's character understands him very, very well.

"Flesh and Blood" is where Tony's dad shows up, and the episode makes clear that Tony's dad, who is very charming and funny with a DiNozzo off-the-cuff way of distracting people, is what Tony would be if Tony (1) weren't insatiably curious; (2) didn't have Gibbs.

Money or no money, Tony didn't have to become a cop. There were other more playboy-type careers he could have gone into. But he chose law enforcement and, although it is heavily implied that his superiors (before Gibbs) always found him a handful, he is rather exceptional at it.

And he has Gibbs.

The episode makes clear that while Anthony DiNozzo, Sr. is Tony's biological father, Gibbs is his spiritual or, from the show's point of view, real father.

This is emphasized in several places, including the scene where Gibbs has a talk with Anthony, Sr. In that scene, Gibbs' controlled wrath is evident. He is angry that this man did not come to see Tony when Tony was ill but did come when he had the chance to make some money.

The comparison between the two men's behavior is also revealing. Gibbs is, as Tony calls him, a "functional mute." Yet, watching the two men makes it clear how physically demonstrative Gibbs actually is towards Tony. Anthony, Sr. can't ever sit down, can't ever meet people's eyes. He hugs Tony at the end, but all his other physical gestures are superficial, like a handshake at a cocktail party.

Gibbs will whack Tony. He will grip Tony's shoulder in that manly way men have. In the episode where Tony has the plague, Gibbs walks into the sickroom, hunkers down, and whispers sternly, "You will not die" in Tony's ear after which he settles Tony's cellphone into his hand. He is a constant, active presence in Tony's life, something Tony needs. (I mentioned in an earlier post that Gibbs and Tony's relationship is one of the few alpha-alpha work male relationships I believe in without question. It makes complete sense to me that Tony would resist efforts to move up the ladder. He is ambitious but not in that way.)

The pay-off is Gibbs' influence on Tony. Again, a comparison, this time of father to son, proves interesting. Tony, while sometimes as physically manic as his father (Michael Weatherly is quite good at physical comedy), is more controlled and focused. Although he does, as Gibbs says, "wear the face of a clown," he is far more willing than his father to confide his troubles to the family he has created for himself. And at heart, he isn't a conman. One of my favorite lines from NCIS is when Gibbs, speaking of McGee, says to Ziva, "He isn't Ari or your father, Ziva. He doesn't know how to lie." Tony doesn't exactly fall into this category, but he is far closer to that personality type than to that of a con. His antics almost all have the outcome of disclosure as opposed to cover-up.

Which isn't to forget the other side of Gibbs' influence: as the ending of the episode suggests, Tony is also learning when it is best to keep one's own counsel.

I Am Now an Examiner!

2011-06-27T19:48:00.000-04:00

I recently became an Examiner at Examiner.com. Examiner.com is a cross between About.com and a local news outlet (like Maine Today.com).

I am a Portland Cats Examiner. As far as I can tell, I am the only one currently posting though I suspect this will change. My approach is more advice-oriented than news-oriented, but I do include links to local businesses, etc.

My first article is "So, You Want to Get a Kitten." A related article "There's a New Kitten in the House: What to Do" will follow at the end of this week.

The Portland Cats' page has been added to Votaries's Related Links. Over the next few months, I will be posting about Emergency Services, toys, cat names, gross medical problems, etc. etc. etc. If you have any ideas or any particular topic you'd like to see addressed, I'm collecting as many as I can!

Recommendations (With Caveats)

2011-06-22T21:03:00.000-04:00

1. The show Leverage with Timothy Hutton, Gina Bellman, Christian Kane, Beth Riesgraf, and the very funny Aldis Hodge.

My friend Carole introduced me to this show. She told me it was about cons and thieves. She didn't tell me it starred Timothy Hutton!

I've been a fan of Timothy Hutton since Nero Wolfe. As a teen, I did see him in Ordinary People (several times), but Nero Wolfe is what sold Hutton to me as an actor with a unique vibe.

The show, although being about cons and thieves, is really more like Quantum Leap or Highway to Heaven- meets-The Matrix. It is a feel-good show about fixing people's lives. It tends to focus on one story at a time which, of course, makes me very happy (I'm not a fan of serials). Also, the cons and thefts never hurt anyone but the people they are supposed to hurt; the gang never has to go too far. It is pure fantasy. And loads of fun. And the gang have a nice rapport.

2. The movie Invictus. See my review on the Mike-Kate Video Club.

3. My latest novella, Mr. B Speaks!

4. The latest Jane Eyre but don't spend too much money on it.

The fact is, Jane Eyre cannot be cut into a 2-hour film. It is impossible. By trying to leave in the relationship between Jane and St. John, the writers cut some very important minor events regarding Mr. Rochester's first wife. Without those minor events, the big "reveal" falls rather flat.

However, the Jane and Rochester make a nice addition to other film/television Janes and Rochesters. Zelah Clarke's Jane is practical and direct in response to Timothy Dalton's acerbic Rochester. Ruth Wilson's Jane is self-contained and watchful in response to Toby Stephen's worried Rochester. Mia Wasikowska is remote and ethereal in response to Michael Fassbender's pining Rochester. Together, they capture most aspects of Jane and Rochester! (Though not all.)

So the film is worth watching for its interesting interpretation of the main characters. However, as a hangs-together rendering of the story, it falls far short.

About Pamela , or, Prim & Proper is Coming Back

2011-06-13T15:26:00.005-04:00

Like many Pride & Prejudice take-offs, including my own, my latest novella Mr. B Speaks! retells a classic story from the hero's, rather than the heroine's, point of view. Mr. B delivers his point of view in a trial which will determine whether or not he stays married to Pamela.

Despite the voice now being Mr. B's, Pamela still takes center stage. Her personality is all important. Is she, as Henry Fielding believed, an insincere, ladder-climbing tease or a frightened, young girl who just wants to go home?

It is easy, and tempting, for modern audiences to adopt Fielding's point of view because Pamela can, admittedly, sound too, too prim and proper. Personally, I think prim & proper is coming back, but Pamela (or, rather, Richardson speaking through Pamela) can get a tad officious.

However, Fielding wasn't reacting like a modern. His main problem with Pamela was her status as a servant (who "catches" the man of the house), not (necessarily) her "don't touch me don't touch me don't touch me" speechifying. In other words, Fielding perceived Pamela as a slutty lower class trollop tarting her way into places she shouldn't be.

My first order of business, therefore, was to decide how seriously to take Pamela. My view is that Pamela's uneasiness is justifiable. Her choices, as Mr. B, her seducer, acknowledges, are extremely narrow (all excerpts are from Mr. B Speaks!):

I knew that sending Pamela home was a death sentence. She would fade into one of those tired women who sit on their stoops, plaiting wool. She could hardly have arguments about classical literature with the local sheep herder.

To put it simply, Pamela can either be extremely poor (as a working peasant) or moderately less poor (as a servant). There's no community college for her to attend, no local organization to help her to better employment. She also can't just pick up and leave, a solution broached by the judge:

"If Pamela knew her, uh, virtue wasn’t safe, why didn’t she just leave?" Judge Hardcastle said.

The Committee for Literary Fairness clucked in collective reproach. "Blaming the woman—" Gary, the professor, began.

He was interrupted by Mr. B. "She would need a carriage to take her home."

"There wouldn’t have been any downtown buses," said Lonquist from Readers for Authorial Intent.

The judge scowled. "I realize that, but I gather people did walk places in the eighteenth century. Unlike today. No—?" in exasperation; Mr. B was shaking his head.

"It wouldn’t have been safe," Mr. B said. "A female peasant could possibly walk unmolested but not a girl in Pamela’s situation."

"Was the countryside so dangerous?" The judge was shaken. Eighteenth-century literature was proving more treacherous than his usual venue: twentieth-century 'Golden Age' mysteries.

"It was not un-dangerous, and Pamela was no longer a part of that environment. She couldn’t have moved through it without attracting notice."

As neither peasant nor servant, companion nor member of the gentry, Pamela has no place. This makes her waffling about her future understandable.

I also decided to take seriously Pamela's fears of losing her virginity. Practically speaking, in this period of history, losing one's virtue, for a woman, was much more like losing one's entire savings account than like losing a shoe on the side of the road. When Mr. B argues, "Pamela was more concerned with her virginity than her rights," an audience member replies:

"I doubt she saw a difference. Holding out for a decent marriage was more or less her purpose in life. Rape would have ruined her forever."

And even Mr. B later admits:

Right or wrong, fair or unfair, in our world, a woman’s wholesome reputation can smooth her path to a respectable and stable future, while a damaged reputation can block that path for a lifetime. I would become the villain of our story to ensure Pamela’s role as heroine.

And the truth is, sexual revolution or not, this issue still concerns women (who, through pregnancy, bear the greater risk in the area of sexual exploration). It is also, I believe, why Regency romances sell so well. The risk is admitted/made real. Female characters are given socially acceptable reasons (and infrastructure) to keep themselves non-pressured. Prim & proper are acknowledged as useful traits for a woman to espouse.

The one major difference between Pamela and most current romances is that most current romances (even historical ones) don't include the religious context. I don't blame the writers for this; religious context, unless one is a true believer, is difficult to write, and, even for a true believer, can so easily sound static and heavy-handed.

Richardson was a true believer, and I admittedly toned down much of Pamela's religious context (it is hard to imagine even a sincerely religious 15-year-old spouting off some of Richardson's arguments). The important point for me is that everything Pamela says and does comes from the absolute conviction that some things are right and some things are wrong, no matter what society has to say about them. This comes up when Mr. B confronts Pamela for telling another servant that he "molested" her (what constitutes "molestation" is discussed throughout the trial):

I stomped off to find Pamela scribbling in my mother’s dressing room. She folded the letter and tucked it in her dress. She didn’t say anything or curtsy, only watched me, remote and guarded.

"You’ve been spreading rumors about me," I said—true rumors but rumors nonetheless.

"I talk to hardly anyone."

"You little equivocator," I said. “What do you mean by hardly?” Mrs. Jervis, my housekeeper, was a great deal of very.

"Why should you care what I tell Mrs. Jervis—if you intend no harm?"

Pamela could be a barrister.

She continued: "I told her what happened in the summer-house because my heart was broken, but I told no one else."

"You wrote a letter, Pamela," I said.

"Did you take it?"

"I should let you expose me?"

"It isn’t exposure if I write the truth."

At that point, I realized I was exchanging extremely heated words with my mother’s companion in the middle of my mother’s dressing room.

"Insolence," I said. "Should I let a servant question me?"

Pamela retreated. It’s what she does when she panics. She becomes instantaneously demure.

"I don’t wish to lose my employment."

"How can you work for me unless you are willing to follow my commands?"

"Should I follow your commands at the expense of my principles?"

I rolled my eyes. "If that’s what you fear, I might as well give you real cause," I said and took her on my knee. She stilled, eyes slewing towards me.

"Be easy," I said. "Let the worst happen. You will have the merit, I the blame, and then you can write a very interesting letter."

Her lips curved into a half-smile. She stared hard at the parquet floor.

"Nobody blamed Lucretia," I pointed out and kissed her neck.

She lifted her chin to frown at me, and I kissed her lips.

"Should I kill myself like Lucretia did?"

Trust Pamela to start a literary argument in the middle of a seduction.

Like Elizabeth Bennet, like Jane Eyre, Pamela won't be overwhelmed (despite Mr. B's best efforts). She has to think her way through the problem, and she does this by sticking to her beliefs.

More about Pamela's character, specifically her acerbic side, will follow in a later post!

More Publications and Mr. B Outlets!

2011-06-10T17:35:00.001-04:00

My short story "Requited" was recently published in Issue #51 of Andromeda Spaceways. This makes my third story published through Andromeda Spaceways which, in my view, is a fantastic magazine that tends to publish story-stories (granted, I'm biased) rather than literary blah.

Having said that, "Requited" is actually one of my more literary pieces. The premise is an alien culture where some members are slaves to others due to physiological/biological symbiosis (or parasitism, depending on one's point of view).

The issue of judgment--how can one culture judge another?--is raised, but the real issue is what we want from others in terms of communication, affection, approval, and gratitude.

Andromeda Spaceways does deliver to the United States, and it can be downloaded!

My novella Mr. B Speaks! from Peaks Island Press is now available from two distributors:

Amazon Kindle

Smashwords

Published: Mr. B Speaks!

2011-06-08T17:51:00.002-04:00

My latest novella, Mr. B Speaks! has been published on Amazon Kindle by Peaks Island Press.

Mr. B Speaks! is a retelling of Samuel Richardson's Pamela from the hero (rather than the heroine's) point of view. It is also a satire/examination of literary theorizing. The official blurb follows:

Did Mr. B, the famously redeemed rake of English letters, romance his great love or abuse her? In a world where characters from novels can be tried in real courts for their literary crimes, Mr. B is forced to defend his controversial infatuation before an unsentimental judge.

Alternately attacked and defended by historians, psychologists, and literary critics, Mr. B wants only one thing--to be reunited with the woman who endured kidnappers, scheming siblings, and a slutty housekeeper all for the sake of her virtue and her marriage--Pamela.

Will love conquer all in the 21st century as it did in the 18th? Can a Georgian romance touch the heart in a postmodern world? Examine the testimony and decide for yourself!

In sum, the novella is a combination of Mr. B's viewpoint, me poking fun at literary over-theorizing, plus discussions about the eighteenth century, historical fiction, romances, and authorial intent.

Mucho mucho mucho gracias to my editor and publisher, Eugene Woodbury. The original version of this novel is in no way comparable to the final version. Eugene's high standards--which involved sending me back to basics (who is telling the story? what is the ultimate point?), then expanding on the story's possibilities--have been instrumental in producing this professional, and quite fun to write, novella.

Bellisario's Anomaly: JAG Compared to NCIS and Quantum Leap

2011-06-02T10:42:00.002-04:00

Recently, in my ongoing need for more mystery shows (while I wait and wait and wait for Diagnosis Murder, Season 4 + to be released on DVD), I got out the first season of JAG from my local library.

It was a rather surreal experience; I'm not sure if I remembered the show differently or if it changed after Season 1. The season itself is standard action-drama fare. What makes it surreal is how different it is from Quantum Leap and NCIS, both Bellisario productions.

I have a fondness for Bellisario. The guy is all about telling a story, and he will go to just about any lengths to get the story told. But the first season of JAG is missing elements that made Quantum Leap a hoot-and-a holler and have made NCIS so remarkably successful.

1. The absence of domestic crime.

Quantum Leap is all about solving the personal crime. NCIS (despite the presence of a trillion terrorist episodes) is surprisingly domestically-minded. Episode solutions range from the friend who kills his friend for money to the neighbor who tries to kill her romantic rival. And even the terrorist episodes create personal relationships with the crew; Ari was one of the best TV villains ever.

The first season of JAG, on the other hand, is almost exclusively action-current-events oriented. Every other episode takes place in Bosnia. The ones in-between are taking place in Hong Kong, Cuba . . . Since I like my mysteries domestic, I tend to lose interest. (And there's only so many times Harm can fly a plane somewhere.)

2. The absence of Gibbs.

To be more precise, the absence of separate characters to represent chivalry, toughness, and roguishness.

In Quantum Leap, Al and Sam take on the separate roles of chivalry and roguishness while dividing the toughness. In NCIS, Gibbs is the tough guy with DiNozzo taking on Al's persona and McGee as the sweet, chivalric knight (I get to Ziva below).

In JAG, poor Harm has to be all things to all people. The women, at least in Season 1, aren't strong enough foils, so he has to be Gibbs, DiNozzo, and McGee all at the same time with an emphasis on the latter two. (Halfway through Season 1, the show does bring on the marvelous John M. Jackson to play the much-needed Gibbs-role.)

It isn't that all shows have to have these characters divided in this way, but Bellisario does. Hence, the rather incredible success of NCIS which, by dividing the roles into thirds (not just halves), allows for quick, balanced dialog. (Completely tangential side note: like his character, Michael Weatherly is something of a film aficionado. For truly interesting commentary, listen to him by himself; like Rob Morrow, he likes to talk about camera work, and it's pretty interesting stuff.)

3. The actors in JAG just aren't as good. At least in Season 1.

I do believe that actors can improve. David D. and Gillian A. (who are both extremely fine actors) improved after the first season of X-Files (Gillian A. really takes off in Season 3). Still, there's a radical difference between starting a show with Dean Stockwell and Mark Harmon and starting one with David James Elliott. All I can guess is that JAG was a tad expensive for the mid-90s (you want to use HOW MUCH footage of aircraft carriers?) and Bellisario had to wait until NCIS to get the starting cast (plus military venue) that he wanted.

4. The female characters are way more annoying in JAG, Season 1.

To give Bellisario credit, the guy likes his women smart, sassy, and sexy. Bellisario belongs to the John Wayne mentality of feminism . . . where men are real men and women are real women, and a little sexual harassment never hurt anyone. (One of the funniest scenes in NCIS is when the crew has to take sexual harassment training, and Abby gets upset because she wants to hug people at work.)

Unfortunately, JAG started when women in the military were first entering combat; consequently, Season 1 JAG women are SO shrill and SO combative and SO defensive about their rights. Think Ziva without the humor (and even Ziva improved in Season 4 when she started getting more in-depth/personality-oriented scripts).

In a way, Bellisario was using available material: Women in the military! Conflict! But it grates after about two episodes.

It is possible that the show improves with the arrival of Bell and Labyorteaux in Season 2. I don't remember Bell being quite so shrill, and Labyorteaux does supply a nice McGee foil. I'm planning to get Season 2 and make the comparison. I'm also hoping the crimes get more interesting. Give me the body in the library any day over International conflicts that I don't think a television episode can solve anyway. (And then give me my Diagnosis Murder!)

Christie's Bad Guys: Simple & Believable

2011-05-30T20:52:00.001-04:00

WARNING: THE LIST AT THE END OF THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS! DO NOT READ IT, AND THEN BLAME ME FOR SPOILING THE MYSTERIES!!!

For awhile, it was popular to accuse Agatha Christie of picking the least likely suspects to be her murderers. There was even some faintly patronizing eye-rolling by writers like Ngaoi Marsh (who should have known better) and various critics: there goes Christie again, picking the suspect in the shadows!

Personally, I think this response was just sour grapes. And the truth is, Agatha Christie's murderers are more often than not front and center family members; they just also happen to have really good alibis that must be broken. But Christie understood crime profiling long before it came along: the most likely suspect in a domestic crime is a family member, specifically a spouse. The next likely suspect is the person who will benefit financially. The third most likely is a sociopath.

The reason this matters is that what makes Christie so great is the simplicity of her story ideas. Story often comes down to one idea. The telling may be elaborate (red herrings plus more red herrings plus more red herrings), but the ultimate denouement is not complicated at all.

The simple story is often also extremely satisfying because it is believable. The reader recognizes the solution as the most probable because it is the solution that corresponds best to human nature.

I think all crime shows can be held to this standard of simple & believable. Unfortunately, Christie-adaptations often try to "improve" her stories by making the bad guys the--yup, you've guessed it--least likely suspects. And, of course, that isn't simple or believable at all.

LAST WARNING OF SPOILERS!

The significant other as murderer always comes first in Christie.

Mysterious Affair at Styles (1920): husband
Murder in Mesopotamia (1936): husband
Evil Under the Sun (1941): boyfriend
Five Little Pigs (1942): girlfriend
The Hollow (1946): wife
The Murder at the Vicarage (1930): wife
A Caribbean Mystery (1964): husband
Lord Edgware Dies (1933): ex-wife
Death on the Nile (1937): husband
Towards Zero (1944): ex-husband
Endless Night (1967): husband (& sociopath)
Death in the Clouds (1935): husband

Other family members:

Elephants Can Remember (1972): sister
Sleeping Murder (1976): older brother
Pocket Full of Rye (1953): son
Sad Cypress (1940): aunt
Dumb Witness (1937): niece
Hercule Poirot's Christmas (1938): son
Peril at End House (1932): cousin
ABC Murders (1936): brother

Thoughts About Personal Objectivity in Austen

2011-05-24T09:38:00.000-04:00

This started out as a comment but got so long, I turned it into a post!

Calvinist Preacher's comment that Elizabeth learns to appreciate Darcy's serious side, recognizing that "her father's unwillingness to be serious about folly actually encourages it" reminded me of an oft-ignored theme in Persuasion.

I recently read a "re-imagined" version of Persuasion in which Anne bemoans she dropped Captain Wentworth when she was younger out of weak-mindedness; she should have dared all and married him anyway!

This is completely and utterly out of keeping with Anne's personality, not to mention Austen's theme.

What Anne actually says at the end of the novel is that while Lady Russell's advice to Anne when she was nineteen was wrong, Anne was not wrong to follow it. Having taught numerous nineteen-year-olds, I can attest to this. Being persuadable to drop that druggy boyfriend and go back to college to get a degree in nursing is a WONDERFUL attribute for a 19-year-old girl to have.

Not that Captain Wentworth was a druggy boyfriend type of dude--and Lady Russell never gave him the chance to prove otherwise--but he so easily could have been.

So though the advice was wrong, Anne's decision to follow it was not. And Austen's focus here indicates that although Persuasion is a very different novel from P& P, her themes/attitudes remain consistent: her narrator rarely thinks highly of characters who just do whatever comes to them on the spur of the moment (sweet-natured Bingley is a rare exception, and Bingley is never destructive).

It isn't that Austen is opposed (as Bronte thought she was) to "sense," to an emotional reaction based on strong feeling. But she isn't a big fan of "because I've had this emotional reaction, it is now more important than anything else including other people's well-being, social stability, not to mention my own future."

What Austen emphasizes with her heroes and heroines is their thoughtfulness. Anne's decision to marry Wentworth at the end of Persuasion provokes some social/familial hostility, though less than it would have eight years earlier, but now she knows what she is getting into. She is prepared to bear the consequences. She is also much more able to weigh the real costs to her family against their imagined costs.

These are all things she couldn't have done at nineteen although the marriage would likely have weathered her learning curve. But Austen (and Bronte actually) saw greater nobility in a decision based on self-knowledge and self-revelation than a decision based on "but this is what I want at the moment" (what Sayers in Gaudy Night calls "snatching").

Returning to Pride & Prejudice, the characters who behave without thought (Mr. Collins, Wickham, Lydia, Mr. Bennet) are punished (sort of) in the end.

Sidenote: Austen's punishments, although seemingly severe to us modern romantics, are actually quite fair. Lydia has married a wastrel, but since she'll spend the rest of her life flirting with officers, I can't see that she will be particularly miserable; Wickham might be, but I think even Wickham does better out of the marriage than he could have hoped for. Mr. Collins has a good wife and a GREAT employer (from his perspective). (I will leave up for debate whether Charlotte is punished or not.) And although Mr. Bennet is a crappy disciplinarian and not the best husband in the world, he is a reasonably nice guy and will continue to have a reasonably nice life. (Note: Mrs. Bennet behaves without thought throughout the novel, but she is too silly to be punished; Austen could be merciful.)

However mild her punishments, Austen reserves her approbation, her happy endings, her love for those characters who demonstrate not only goodness and mutual affection but also intelligent objectivity and honesty. I think, to a degree, this is one reason Austen remains so beloved. We all want the sentimental romance, but underneath, we also want it to be real. Jane Austen keeps it real.

Why Darcy Is Often Justified

2011-05-20T23:12:00.000-04:00

I am in the process of revising and expanding A Man of Few Words (new edition coming soon!). As part of that process, I have been examining critical commentaries about Darcy, those I agree with and those I disagree with.

One thing I have noticed is how often (some) critics will define Darcy's behavior at the beginning of the novel entirely negatively, forgetting that Elizabeth (who believes at this point that she dislikes him and who has condemned him for various perceived faults) actually defends many of Darcy's actions in the first few chapters. A good example of this is at the Netherfield ball when Mr. Collins approaches Mr. Darcy.

"You are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy?" [Elizabeth said.]

"Indeed I am. I shall entreat his pardon for not having done it earlier. I believe him to be Lady Catherine's nephew. It will be in my power to assure him that her ladyship was quite well yesterday se'nnight."

Elizabeth tried hard to dissuade him from such a scheme, assuring him that Mr. Darcy would consider his addressing him without introduction as an impertinent freedom, rather than a compliment to his aunt; that it was not in the least necessary there should be any notice on either side, and that if it were, it must belong to Mr. Darcy, the superior in consequence, to begin the acquaintance. -- Mr. Collins listened to her with the determined air of following his own inclination.

Mr. Collins does approach Darcy. The result is Darcy's "astonishment at being so addressed." The conversation (or monologue by Mr. Collins) ends when Darcy "made him a slight bow, and moved another way."

To modern (American) minds, Darcy is just rude. Why shouldn't Mr. Collins speak to whomever he wants? However, in Darcy and Elizabeth's world, Mr. Collins is completely out-of-line.

To modernize it, imagine you attend a dinner party put on by friends. The dinner party is intended to be relaxing, fun, a good time for all. But during the evening, this one guy keeps approaching people, forcing his business cards on them, and buttonholing them into buying life insurance.

This is EXACTLY what Mr. Collins is doing. He doesn't approach Mr. Darcy out of goodwill but out of a desire to aggrandize himself. And Elizabeth is rightly mortified.

Note, too, that although she is partly mortified by the ridiculousness of Mr. Collins' conversation with Darcy (not reported here), she is mostly mortified by his decision to introduce himself. That is, despite Elizabeth's egalitarian impulses, she still accepts, even practices, the routine civilities of her society.

The appropriate course for action would be for Mr. Bennet, who has already officially met Bingley and Darcy, to do the introductions: "Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy, I would like to introduce my cousin, Mr. Collins. I believe Mr. Collins has some acquaintance with your family, Mr. Darcy."

This is forestalled partly by Mr. Collins' smugness but also by Mr. Bennet's laxity. But the inappropriateness/wrongness of Mr. Collins' actions are not disputed by the characters.

What I think is in dispute is Darcy's reaction, and this is where personality (and possibly pride) come into play. If Darcy were a pure social extrovert like Bingley, he would be able to smooth over Mr. Collins' social infraction with an easy, blithe remark. But Darcy doesn't think that way. When Mr. Collins approaches him, Darcy's brain (which is wholly occupied with Elizabeth at this point) does something like this: Why is this guy talking to me? Why am I having this conversation? I shouldn't have to have this conversation! Go away! He isn't going away. I gotta get out of here. And he does. Darcy's "pride" is in not thinking beyond the temporary, annoying invasion into his space.

But even Elizabeth admits Mr. Collins invaded Darcy's space.

Guest Blogger: The Finale of Smallville

2011-05-17T12:18:00.002-04:00

Mike writes about the finale of Smallville:

I just watched the Smallville finale (despite not seeing any episode of the entire current season). It was . . . okay. (Lois and Clark ALMOST get married; the wedding is interrupted by evil, of course). Yet, somehow, with ten years to prepare, the ending still felt rushed. The two hours spent so much time wrapping up different relationships (talk talk talk) that the "Big Fight" at the end was compressed into 30 seconds that you don't even really get to see!

One things that bugs me about shows with continuity is how often the budget hinders the quality, and the quality thus affects the storytelling. For instance, it would have made sense for many of the people Clark Kent helped, loved, and worked with through the years to attend his wedding. Instead, presumably due to budget, the entire attendance of the wedding is made up of extras. Only six actors in the chapel are familiar to the viewer, and TWO of them are the wedding couple!

And while there are a few great guest appearances (the returns of Lex, Lionel, and Jonathan Kent are all great), many other people would have been logical additions. Any of the dozens of heroes Clark has met are really missed.

Perhaps the most embarrassing budget-inspired cheat is the suit. Introduced at the end of last year, the Superman suit was "borrowed" from Superman Returns. (I understand it was used mostly as a set piece over the past two seasons). While Clark officially dons it in the finale, it seems that Tom Welling doesn't. This is only speculation, but it seems the producers didn't want to make a new suit for the episode (movie suits cost THOUSANDS), and since Tom Welling didn't fit the one used for the movie, well . . . they faked it: back shots of a computer-animated Superman and close-up head shot with a CGI cape behind. No actual full body Superman shot. I felt bad for poor Tom.

The finale does finally allow Clark to fly but the moment feels . . . rushed. Almost like an after thought.

Another thing that bugged me, although I appreciated the attempt, is how the finale made a point of finishing the storyline but then chickened out on several things in order to please the "die hard fans" of Superman. For instance, the shows ends 7 years in the future with Lois and Clark only then deciding to reattempt marriage. Lex, resurrected and fully aware of Clark and his powers, conveniently gets his memory erased.

Despite both Superman and Smallville fans, one of the funniest things is just how little background knowledge the finale needed. I've only seen half of season 9 and nothing of 10, and the two minute summary before the episode was enough to fill me in. This highlights perhaps my biggest complaint about Smallville: The sheer amount of time the show wasted treading water instead of moving forward. It's infuriating! The writers never seemed to understand the slow growth of plot and development. Instead the show was a series of starts and stops. It would move forward a bit, then stop and drag its feet, afraid to move too quickly to the ending everyone was waiting TEN years for.

Smallville decided to go its own way retelling a lot of Superman history, but it even waffled staying true to that! In the end, I'm kinda glad the show is finally over; it could have ended a LONG time ago.

More Thoughts About "That Guy"!

2011-05-13T21:23:00.004-04:00

In response to my latest post, Eugene posted some thoughts about "that guy":

John Polkinghorne, a renowned professor of mathematics and theoretical physics at the University of Cambridge, resigned to become an Anglican priest . . . he knew he couldn't be THAT GUY again--the brilliant scientist--and didn't want to stay beyond his "sell-by" date. Polkinghorne did return to Cambridge and became president of Queen's College, but after pursuing a completely different occupation in the real world. The feudal inclination to perpetual self-entitlement reveals itself most powerfully in politics and academia and must be disciplined.

This issue of obtaining maturity through self-discipline and honest self-appraisal crops up in television shows all the time but is rarely dealt with intelligently. One of the (many) smart things about the end of Numb3rs is the treatment of Larry. In Season 3, Larry finally achieves his goal of going into space. He comes back to earth (literally), but his academic options now seem kind of flat, and he realizes that his current academic explorations are going nowhere. Instead of the writers having Larry "buck up" and realize what a fantastic scientist he really is, they have him leave academics, wander off into the world. During his wanderings, he experiences an epiphany regarding his new scientific focus. He then returns to CalSci, prepared to concentrate on this new focus.

I love this. On the one hand, he does stick to what he knows (science); on the other, he has to go through a period of outside experiences before he can refocus. And last but not least, he makes a definite decision. His life finally gains focus. (I was afraid Larry would be left as wandering-hermit-guy.)

Granted, wandering isn’t all that self-disciplined. The point is, Larry recognizes that he can no longer continue in the same direction academically. He has to rethink his goals.

I think this type of reassessment happens all the time in real life, but on television, it takes a smart/brave writer to let a character stray that far afield. The Buffy writers couldn’t quite bring themselves to do it; the resolution to every Buffy problem was "buck up." Granted, she doesn't have much of a choice, but after Season 3, she only plays with real life; "growing up" is translated into "telling Giles to back off." Ho hum.

In comparison, on Stargate SG-1, Daniel also can never really leave his chosen path, the SGC (the ACTOR can, not the character). However, "bucking up" in the continual search for his wife gets old. So the Stargate writers changed Daniel’s purpose for staying (twice!). Specifically, they had him get over his grief.

Remarkable. But true to life. As we mature, we get over things. On the mundane level, some things matter less; other things matter more. We might not all leave our posts to wander the world, but we often refocus our goals/reorder our priorities/change our minds/look at things differently. Even if we decide (like Daniel), "This is where I’m suppose to be," we do it because something about where we are matters from money to principles to long-range goals to short-range needs. And what mattered when we were twenty or thirty or forty, while it might not change completely, morphs somewhat because we morph somewhat.

We don’t just keep "bucking up" as if where we are should simply be a matter of self-esteem. (Oh, yes, I should be here because I believe in myself! Again!!) Only people (real and fake) on television do that.

I often think the Numb3rs and Stargate writers are the most mature people in Hollywood.

Speaking of making choices and new directions, the latest review was just posted to the Mike-Kate Video Club!

A Thought About Lucas

2011-05-08T16:54:00.000-04:00

After watching Plinkett's reviews of Star Wars for the zillioneth time (note: I do not recommend these to family and friends who are squeamish about, uh, let's call it vulgarity), I had a thought (which I'm sure "Plinkett" has already had) about what George Lucas was trying to do with I, II, and III:

Recapture his youth.

He wasn't just trying to compete against directors like Ridley Scott and James Cameron (although he was doing that too), and he wasn't just trying to be rich and famous because he already was. He was trying to be THAT GUY again, the guy who came out of nowhere with a picture that wowed the world.

And it's sad because even if I, II, and III had been good, he could never be THAT GUY again.

There's a great line in an episode of Numb3rs where Charlie is explaining to Larry how much pressure he feels to instantly produce genius work. Larry tries to explain that many great mathematicians did their best work in their later years; Charlie has a lot of time to produce awe-inspiring research.

"Yes," Charlie says, "but it will never again come ahead of schedule."

Just think of the rush a person gets from producing masterpieces ahead of schedule! It would be hard to lose that.

Unfortunately, even prodigies have to grow up.

One of Kate's Little Soap-Boxes

2011-05-06T07:49:00.042-04:00

These days I don't get as bugged by environmental silliness as I used to, mostly because I think the tide is turning. The insistence that the environment is beyond repair, the earth is dying (from overpopulation, from the ozone layer burning off, doom doom doom) is slowly being replaced by more thoughtful analysis about the complexity of the planet.

Nevertheless, I don't suppose it hurts to throw another bit of eye-rolling-at-environmentalists onto the information highway (wow! that's an old metaphor).

Here it is: it really bugs me when the idea of "saving Mother Earth" is divorced from the idea of saving humans.

I think both "Mother Earth" and humans are sturdier than they are given credit for. But every once in awhile, I encounter this sentimental and maudlin idea that environmentalists are doing what they do for the sake of Mother Earth.

Why should She care?

It is sentimental and maudlin because (1) it anthropomorphizes THE EARTH; (2) it assumes that an anthropomorphized EARTH isn't happy unless it exists in accordance with human standards.

From a non-human point of view, there's no good reason THE EARTH (if, like Dorothy's Scarecrow, it only had a brain) wouldn't be just as happy riddled with volcanoes, secreting poisonous gases into the atmosphere and killing off bears. Or dinosaurs. Or whatever the latest endangered species is.

It's just a little too convenient that THE EARTH'S needs would so exactly correspond to people's needs: lots of green, pleasant weather, and, as a lab geek says in CSI, "This really frosts my lizard. I go out to the lake to get away from the casinos. Well, there goes jet-skiing."

As Leonard says to Penny, "What's up with that?"

I have far more respect for environmentalists like Bjørn Lomborg who set out to determine how saving the world will benefit humans. And who keep asking, "Can we make this cost-effective?"

But I have little to no patience with anyone trying to tell me what the earth needs or wants.

In a sort of tangent, some of those who belong to the latter category will admit that they are basically pagans (not scientists). However, I would have to disagree with them. Well, okay, modern pagans. But ancient pagans? Nah.

The fantastic thing about ancient paganism was how incredibly materialist it was. Pagans weren't worshiping earth gods because they loved the earth; they were worshiping earth gods, so they could dig up the land and make money. Or just not die. They were Camille Paglia, not Wiccans.

I always find self-interest much more trustworthy than its lack. (At least when the monotheistic religions said, "Be good for the sake of goodness," they were upfront about it: "And if you think this is going to get you bags of glory in the immediate future, think again.")

What Actors Want

2011-04-29T14:09:00.000-04:00

Occasionally, while watching a show, I'll remind myself that when actors look at a script, what grabs them isn't necessarily the same thing that grabs us viewers.

It's the different between production and product.

For example, there may be an episode with an incredibly important minor character, so important viewers become attached to the character. But page-wise, the character actually doesn't have that many lines/scenes.

Another complaint for many actors is "I didn't get to emote!" No sob scenes happened in the episode; the actor didn't get to show off his/her skills.

I can somewhat sympathize with these reactions. For the actors, the script represents a job/money. But I really respect someone like Jerry Orbach who said, of Law & Order, "It's a lot more fun for actors to cry and rant and rave, or have a drug problem or a drinking problem. Once in a while I get jealous of people who get to do real histrionics. But that's all right. That stuff's only about awards. It's not about people watching. People are very loyal to our show, and they want to see the case resolved in an hour."

I think this is possibly the coolest quote ever. And underlying this quote is a very important truth: the product (episode, movie) may actually benefit from a restrained performance; quite often, a non-histronic performance may result in something far more deep and emotional than would have been produced IF the actors were able to "showcase" their talents. In fact, "showcasing" (look what I can do!) may actually result in a WORSE product.

But trying to make this clear to actors must give directors a complete headache.

Why Can't (B) Actors Be President?

2011-04-25T14:05:00.002-04:00

I can't begin to list the number of television episodes/movies I've seen which include this line or a variation thereof: "In the future, I can't believe a B-actor will be elected president!"

This exchange from Back to the Future is a good example:

Dr. Emmett Brown: Then tell me, "Future Boy", who's President of the United States in 1985?
Marty McFly: Ronald Reagan.
Dr. Emmett Brown: Ronald Reagan? The actor? [chuckles in disbelief]
Dr. Emmett Brown: Then who's VICE-President? Jerry Lewis? I suppose Jane Wyman is the First Lady!
Marty McFly: [following Doc] Whoa! Wait! Doc!
Dr. Emmett Brown: And Jack Benny is Secretary of the Treasury.

This viewpoint has always struck me as rather undemocratic. Isn't this the country where hairdressers, small business owners, dairy farmers, cops, and department Santa Clauses could all become president? Why not actors and/or singers? Are career politicians really the BEST choice?

But more than undemocratic, the lines (about Ronald Reagan; I rarely hear similar comments about Sonny Bono) have always struck me as odd: Why would actors put themselves down like this?

Then one day I realized that it is scriptwriters, not actors, who come up with these lines, and scriptwriters can be rather obnoxious, especially when they hold grudges. And nobody holds a grudge like a self-appointed "high IQ" scriptwriter who makes actors look good but whom nobody knows exists.

But, still, why would the ACTORS repeat the lines? Has no actor ever said, "Excuse me, I'm a B-actor, and I think I would have the right to go into politics if I wanted?"

It is possible that most actors just want to be paid and even possible that most honestly don't think they should be in politics. It is also possible that some actors are so sheep-like about politics, they are perfectly willing to sabotage basic democratic principles for the sake of a snide joke, in which case they shouldn't be involved in politics--AT ALL. Stop trying to save America from itself, Hollywood!

On the other hand, statistically-speaking, I'm sure there are some actors with strong political visions who are attracted to the local or National political scene. I might not vote for all of them, but I would certainly defend their right to try to get my vote.

Historical Fiction and the Tipping Point of Belief

2011-04-21T12:18:00.001-04:00

In the novel Robots of Dawn by Isaac Asimov, Asimov's detective Elijah Bailey has to investigate a murder on the planet, Aurora. On his way to Aurora, Elijah reads books of Aurorian history/sociology, etc. However, when he arrives, he discovers that the books didn't prepare him for basic, everyday stuff, such as public bathrooms being unisex. This basic, everyday stuff never occurred to the historians/sociologists because it's the kind of stuff they would have taken for granted.

This is the fundamental difference between historical fiction and fiction written in a historical period. No matter how hard we try, we can never really capture the same feel or attitudes of writers like Austen, Dickens, and Walter Scott because we aren't products of their time periods, and we don't know what to take for granted.

When PBS was running its House series, this was an ongoing issue. Interestingly enough, the best of the series (1940s and Manor House) insisted that the participants follow certain rules. The participants weren't just stuck in a time period and expected to enjoy/endure it. They had to agree to comply with appropriate social protocols (the servants had to behave as and do the work of servants; the WWII family had to endure air-raids and suffer food privations).

I think writers of historical fiction can capture the tone and feel of a time period's mindset. I think they can even give us insights into that mindset. I also think it can never be a perfect fit. I am currently working on a "between the lines" telling of Pamela (with literary commentary). At one point, I entertained the possibility that my hero would make a dismissive statement about politicians (whom he doesn't care for) by referring to Wilberforce and "those yapping members" who won't shut up about slavery.

I couldn't do it, partly because actually my hero wouldn't care about slavery one way or the other (none of his money is invested in the West Indies), partly because his wife would likely support Wilberforce, but mostly because from a modern 21st century point of view, such an attitude makes him an awful human being. I could argue that as a product of his culture, the hero would have perceived Wilberforce and his supporters (whom I admire) as simply one cause/voice/idea amongst many, but that knowledge doesn't leap the empathy gap.

(Black Adder was brave enough to tackle this idea. In Black Adder the Third, when Baldrick runs for Parliament, this conversation ensues between a fellow politician and a (real) television journalist:

Ivor Biggun: We're for the compulsory serving of asparagus at breakfast, free corsets for the under-5s and the abolition of slavery.
Vincent Hanna, His Own Great Great Great Grandfather: I'm sure many moderate people would respect your stand on asparagus, but what about all this extremist nonsense about abolishing slavery?
Ivor Biggun: Oh, that! We just put that in for a joke! See you next year!)

Still, historical fiction can never completely mesh with the mindset of a historical time period, no matter how brave the writer.

Which doesn't mean it shouldn't try.

I think every reader has a tipping point, a point where the non-historical mindset becomes too much--the story isn't history anymore; it's just modernism dressed up in historical clothes. The tipping point is different for everyone. I am quite ready to accept non-accuracies in books when the writers don't pretend they are doing anything else but having fun. I despise non-accuracies where the good characters are good ONLY because they reflect modern ways of thinking.

So I quite like Ellis Peters' Cadfael series because although Cadfael is a trifle progressive for his time period, Peters never fails to bring him back to a core reality. And she only allows him to be progressive over issues that were raised in that time period. And, as a monk, he is a true believer. (Peters knew how to write 1960's "all spirituality is relative" stuff; she didn't do it with Cadfael because it wouldn't have been accurate, and she was a reputable historian.)

In comparison, I get mighty tired of books where women become suffragettes/pro-women's rights/pro-contemporary-progressive-issues without having to suffer any of the actual consequences of the time period and/or without understanding their choices from within the mindset of the time period. (This type of characterization can be done; it's just very difficult.) I couldn't stand The Red Tent because the women were so hopelessly modern and the men so hopelessly not. Geez, people, if you're going to play this game, play it fair.

On the other hand, Amelia Peabody in Elizabeth Peters' Egypt series is a good example of a "modern" woman who, at least in the first few books (I haven't read more), doesn't stray too far in her opinions out of what was actually likely for a woman to think in the late nineteenth century (the nineteenth century produced some very interesting and independent women).

Back to books I get tired of: those which simply transfer modern arguments to historical settings. I gave up on one author when she had a conversation, taking place in approximately 100 C.E., sound like a conversation between a modern-day "free thinker" and modern-day fundamentalist. (She also had the characters using and referring to the Christian Cross as if it meant the same thing to them as it does to us in the same way, i.e. 1500+ years of Christian iconography. Um, no.)

On the other hand, I quite like Deanna Raybourn's Lady Julia series. She may take a few liberties (it's not my time period, so I'm not sure), but the attitudes are consistent and don't take sudden leaps into implausibility. I feel the same way about C.S. Harris' Sebastian St. Cyr mysteries (although the PLOT of the romance in those mysteries is a bit too deux ex machina: everyone conveniently isn't available when he or she shouldn't be available).

In any case, the "oh, that doesn't work!" wince is different for everyone. It may depend on what history you've have read; it may just depend on what feels right at the gut level. But it's there. As long as there is historical fiction (may it continue forever), it won't ever go away.

Dean Stockwell's Kim and the New Childhood

2011-04-11T11:56:00.012-04:00

I recently read Kim by Rudyard Kipling for a bookclub and really enjoyed it. I then watched the 1950 film with Dean Stockwell and Errol Flynn.

The movie is fairly good. It was "filmed on location." This means that a bunch of outdoor shots were filmed in India; everything else was done on a sound-stage.

But the movie does has a nice authentic feel to it (I was worried that it would be like The Ten Commandments, which I enjoy watching but which is hokey in the extreme: just watch Joshua organizing the Israelites in his best "Are we ready, boys and girls?" camp counselor manner.)

Kim is surprisingly straightforward and non-hokey, sticking closely to the book up until the last twenty minutes.

At which point it suddenly takes a nose-dive into . . . I don't know. I don't know what they were trying to do. I don't think they knew what they were trying to do.

I have a theory. Up until the last twenty minutes, the film focuses on Kim, played perfectly by Dean Stockwell. At fourteen, Stockwell has the compact, dark exuberance that Kipling ascribes to Kim.

But he isn't quite old enough to play Kim at seventeen (this is a pity; if Stockwell had been only a year older, he could have played both Kim's younger and older self with little difficulty). Consequently, the action from the book is squeezed from approximately five years into 1-1/2. Kim is still a child when he goes to hunt the Russian spies.

Kipling wouldn't have a problem with this. In the book, he continually emphasizes that Kim's controllers want to mold but not break him. They release him from his "English" studies as quickly as possible. They want him educated (and loyal), not disciplined to be a rigid, unimaginative, British officer.

This dovetails very nicely with Kipling's beliefs regarding India. He supported the British Empire, but he believed (correctly) that it was badly managed. He believed, for example, that the British administrators in India should NOT be upperclass boys trained in England with no real knowledge of the country or ability to work with the native people. His book Stalky & Co. is basically about the type of boys who should be sent to administer India. Stalky, specifically, is a Kim proto-type.

So Kipling has Kim released from the British system as quickly as possible. He had little to no trouble sending this boy back into a dangerous environment. In fact, he implies that Kim was safer when he was younger and more savvy. Educate him any further, and he'll be too stupid to survive.

This idea was not something that 1950 America could readily stomach. The idea of "childhood" as a pure time of innocence had been growing since the Victorian era; post-WWII, middle-class American parents didn't want their kids being trained to play the "Great Game." They wanted them in college, learning to be businessmen and therapists and school-teachers.

Subsequently, the end of the film Kim turns into a film about Errol Flynn--Errol Flynn must go rescue Kim who has recklessly decided to play "the game" at too young an age. At the very end of the film, it is heavily implied that Kim will go back to school and once he graduates, he won't need to be a spy since all wars will be over.

In fact, there's an interesting contrast (which the writers of the script presented but didn't know what to do with) between the "old school" swashbuckling Flynn, who gets a kick out of killing his enemies, and the "new school" Kim, who gets squeamish out of watching people die.

This is not completely out of keeping with the book. Over the course of the book, Kim develops a more complex understanding of morality than he starts out with. This is necessary since Kim is cocky almost to the point of arrogance; he is only reined in by his mentor, the extremely pacifistic lama. At the end of the book, the lama--who has obviously been worrying over Kim's participation in "the game"--has a vision which comforts him with the belief that Kim will be able to act as a spy without losing his soul. (At the end of the film, the confused script-writers have the lama die. They obviously couldn't make up their minds whether to be pro-War or pro-pacifism. All they knew is children should have cozy lives.)

In the book, the lama's influence keeps Kim from turning into a little sociopath with no moral sense or direction except the desire to outwit people. In the film, the implication is that the lama represents a nice New Agey way to think for boys who won't have to go to war anymore.

Wishful, post-WII thinking. And, considering the instant inception of the Cold War, rather naive. But Kim is a child and, as a child, he must be protected!

And the infantilization begins.

The one major factor in the film's favor is Dean Stockwell. It is impossible for a late-20th century product like me not to associate Dean Stockwell-the-child with Dean Stockwell-the-adult. (Especially since at age 14, Stockwell already had that borderline look of amused insolence down pat.) I see Kim and I think . . . Al! From Quantum Leap. And they aren't that different. Kim has that Buddhist edge. But the kindness masked by insouciance coupled with incredible energy is pure Kim/Al. And Stockwell does it very well.

So, Kim didn't grow up to be a businessman. He grew up to work in a top-secret laboratory doing science experiments that result in time-altering adventures.

The latter really is much more likely.

Time Travel Returns

2011-04-08T19:20:00.000-04:00

After a one week vacation, the Mike-Kate Video Club has returned to reviewing time travel movies and shows--this week, Back to the Future!

Next week--Stargate!!

How Scarecrow & Mrs. King is Like Bones

2011-04-03T15:49:00.002-04:00

I confess I'm a Scarecrow & Mrs. King fan. I was a fan when a youngster, and I still find the show completely viewable.

Granted, the plot is a bit same-old/same-old (which spy will they chase this week?!). And the dialog is nothing extraordinary (this is still 80's television when shows with whiplash dialog like Barney Miller were still considered somewhat unusual). There are hints, now and again, that the writers would have liked to go in a Lois & Clark tongue-in-cheek direction but overall they stick to their mandate: straight plots with clear objectives.

The acting is pretty respectable. Kate Jackson is quite good. Bruce Boxleitner knows what he is doing/what the part calls for (since watching older spy shows, I've gotten a better sense of what type of character he is emulating). The problem here is that someone like Joe Penny exudes ultra-charisma just by standing around. Bruce B. doesn't much.

Having said that, after rewatching Season 1 recently, I formed the opinion that my attraction to the show is that it is incipient Bones. That is probably why I loved it as a youngster except Bones hadn't shown up yet. Now that Bones has shown up, I see the similarities.

1. It's all about the couple.

I've commented before that I like romances where the hero and heroine are trapped together--literally or, like Mulder and Scully, through a job or shared information. Unlike Castle, both Bones and Scarecrow are ALL about the main heterosexual couple--nobody else, really. (I like Castle but there's too many potential ex-es which gets tiresome.) Whether consummated or not, the show IS the relationship.

2. Both parties bring something to the relationship.

Both the hero and heroine contribute to the relationship as individuals. Amanda King is quirky, talkative, funny with a strong practical streak and a strong sense of morality. Rather surprising for an 80's show, her responses as an individual take precedent over her responses as an INDEPENDENT WOMAN and even as a MOTHER. Good writers, in my view, ask, "How would this character react?" rather than "What cause am I supposed to be defending?" It is easy to take the former approach for granted with Temperance Brennan. It is commendable that it happened with Mrs. King.

3. The guys get to rescue the gals.

What's a good romance without a rescue?

Now, I love romances, but I do have some standards. I tend to avoid romances where the heroines spend the whole time trying to force the heroes to appreciate/notice them ("I'M AS GOOD AS YOU!"). And I don't even bother with romances where the heroes don't appreciate the heroines. And I don't like romances where the heroines just represent the prize that the heroes get for conquering the bad guy.

I like the hero and heroine to admire each other. And I like the heroine to care about the hero. And since I'm a woman, and I'm watching these shows from a woman's perspective, I really want to see the hero express that he cares.

Nothing does that better than a rescue scene (as long as it is done right).

The classic done-correctly rescue scene is Cary Grant rescuing Ingrid Bergman in Notorious: the scene where Cary Grant enters the house of the bad spy guy and carries out Ingrid Bergman in front of the bad spy guy's compatriots. Every director over the age of forty copies it at least once.

The reason it is so perfect is that the heroine needs to be rescued for perfectly legitimate reasons. She isn't stuck in her bad-spy husband's house by accident or because she is a fool or because she got into a pique or because she's trying to manipulative the hero or because she swooned or because she's too ladylike/dainty/frightened/clueless to get herself out. She's in the house as a spy following the directives of her handler (Grant) in order to help the United States. She is being drugged against her will, and she has held out for as long as she can.

And the hero rescues her against logic but not against reason. He loves her. He also owes her. And he is very clever and logical and ruthless about what he does to get her out.

Dorothy Sayers wrote several mysteries where she tackles the problem of a heroine feeling such an overwhelming sense of obligation to the hero that the relationship can't return to balance. The heroine becomes infantalized, a little girl who is always being protected by her daddy-figure.

Good rescues avoid this. Notorious avoids this.

Bones and Scarecrow avoid this.

Scarecrow actually does the Notorious scene. And Amanda King is not infantalized as a result. She held out against questioning while on a legitimate errand to help Scarecrow. Rescuing her is part of his job. It is also romantically done.

Bones has a great rescue scene in the first season ("Two Bodies in the Lab") where the wounded Booth finds Bones who is about to be killed by a bad guy masquerading as a serial killer. Bones is in this situation because she is about to produce forensic evidence that will put the bad guy away. She fights back. Booth rescues her because it is his job, and (typical for Booth), he feels responsible for people who work for him. And it is romantically done.

Yet nobody becomes a child as a result. Bones is grateful as is Amanda King, and they both express their gratitude non-defensively. But the relationship is easily restored to balance because the risks and rewards of the relationship are taken for granted.

4. I believe in the domestic side of the relationship.

This is actually something that separates Bones and Scarecrow from X-Files. In X-Files, the context is so overwhelmingly important, it's hard to imagine Mulder and Scully away from it. Which is good--because how on earth would that relationship function absent a conspiracy? And although I like both Castle and Beckett, I don't really believe in my heart of hearts that Beckett would ever be comfortable in that relationship on a domestic level (I think Castle would actually made a very good husband; I just don't see Beckett agreeing).

But with Bones, I can completely see Bones and Booth making things work in ANY situation: on a vacation, with a baby, buying a home, figuring out schools, planning date nights, managing money . . . Likewise, Bruce B. does a fairly good job in Scarecrow playing a man who thinks he wants to be a secret agent but really would rather have a semi-normal relationship with a down-to-earth housewife from Arlington.

Because in the end, the personal relationship isn't just about champagne and chocolates. It involves things like getting the vacuum cleaner to work. And wondering what the heck to do about the SRS light in the Honda. And fighting over the remote. And the number of television couples who I think can actually deal with this stuff is rather short.

Having said this . . . in terms of television viewing . . .

5. It's all about the job.

Shows which focus exclusively on the relationship almost inevitably end up being "revolving door" shows: now-he-is-dating-someone-else, now-she-is-dating-someone-else, now-he-is-dating-someone-else.

Oh, who cares.

Shows where the relationship remains intact but the focus is on how much the characters love each other aren't much better. Dharma & Greg managed precisely because every episode was about other stuff (and it couldn't have lasted much beyond five seasons). Lois & Clark suffered in the second half of the third to fourth seasons when the relationship became the focus, rather than the job.

Shows like Bones and Scarecrow & Mrs. King keep the focus on the job. Even in the Bones episode ender, "The End in the Beginning," both Bones and Booth (now a couple) own a business together. They go about their lives exactly in the same way--only with sex. But the workable-ness of their relationship hasn't altered. The relationship can be taken for granted, can be successfully explored, precisely because it ISN'T the focus.

The most romantic romances aren't about the romance.

Go figure.

How to Make Friends (the Easy Way)

2011-03-29T19:10:00.002-04:00

I was at the library and picked up a book by Prince Charles, Harmony. The first part of the fly-leaf states, "For the last thirty years, The Prince of Wales has been known around the world as one of the vocal and forceful advocates of the environment." The fly-leaf goes on to discuss how Prince Charles has a plan to restore balance and bring us all back into harmony with the earth.

I burst out laughing.

Now, I have nothing against Prince Charles. In fact, between him and Princess Diana, I've always found him slightly less annoying (yes, I know she is dead, and yes, I'm sorry she is) although Alex Jennings' portrayal of him in The Queen is almost too spot-on.

I laughed because, like Princess Diana, Prince Charles has discovered that the easiest way to instantly win unqualified/uncritical support is to pick a cause that people will not or cannot debate. There's probably a logical fallacy in here somewhere, the opposite of the ad hominem attack, something like, "The virtue of the cause automatically lends virtue to the individual even if the individual is a self-interested basket-case."

I personally think Princess Diana, with far less left-brained consideration than Prince Charles, did precisely this when she was alive. I've always found Fergie as Avon/Weight Watchers spokesperson less off-putting than Diana's use of the spotlight to satisfy her deep and incessant need for approval and love (at least, Charles ultimately only needed Camilla; Diana needed the whole world).

You might say, and I won't argue (much) that, hey, at least she was doing something. But that something put her beyond reproach when, really, she behaved pretty badly on multiple occasions. And as far as I know, Christopher Hitchens is one of the few journalists who ever dared to criticize Princess Diana.

Prince Charles is now demonstrating that he learned Diana's lessons very, very, very well: Become the kind of environmentalist who wants to save the earth from untold threats--ergo, gain prestige and an automatic exception from in-depth criticism.

Of course, Al Gore learned it first.

I Am a Dean Hargrove Junkie

2011-03-22T21:16:00.003-04:00

Dean Hargrove is the producer of some of TV's classic mystery shows: Columbo, Diagnosis Murder, Father Dowling Mysteries, Matlock, Jake and the Fatman.

Of these shows, I haven't seen Matlock or Father Dowling Mysteries.

I have seen all the Columbo and Diagnosis Murder episodes available on DVD. I also recently began watching Jake and the Fatman, and I am hooked! (The latter show is surprisingly modern in feel; it uses music and camera shots in a style I usually associate with 90's rather than 80's shows.)

I really can't get enough of this stuff. For one thing, I love the "cozy" murder mystery. Mafia and conspiracy plots bore me senseless. But give me jealous spouses, relations killing for inheritance, victims taking out blackmailers, and I'm as happy as a clam in black with a little gavel.

And I prefer the Hargrove approach. Hargrove often worked with Levinson and Link who, with Fischer, produced Murder, She Wrote. I enjoy Murder, She Wrote, but it is rather random; Mrs. Fletcher goes here and there, talking to these people, those people, some other people. It's hard to know where all the questioning is heading.

Hargrove's shows are far tighter. They often (but not always) begin by showing you the actual murder/murderer. The surprise or mystery is what mistake the murderer made that will help the good guys capture the bad guys.

Even when the episodes don't begin with the actual murder, the investigation process moves along at a good clip with rising and falling action. Dr. Sloan investigates a set number of suspects; J.L. maps out a specific road map for investigation. Every "act" leads somewhere.

Like in Murder, She Wrote, there's a little too much reliance on verbal slip-ups, but Hargrove's writers will throw in fun forensics and unexpected link-ups just to keep things interesting. (My favorite is when Columbo catches a bad guy because Columbo's fingerprints, not the bad guy's, are on a piece of evidence. In general, Columbo concentrates on the time-line/process of the murder while Diagnosis Murder focuses on motive. In comparison, Murder, She Wrote focuses on the unexpected identity of the murderer.)

Like Murder, She Wrote, Hargrove's shows rely tremendously on the character of the investigators/stars.

You have to like Dick Van Dyke (which I do), Joe Penny and William Conrad (which I do; they remind me of Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin), Andy Griffith (who I don't really care about), Tom Bosley (who is just cute), and Peter Falk (who I adore). This investment in the main star is less necessary with Law & Order and CSI. I don't watch any classic Law & Order after Season 4 since I bemoan the loss of Moriarty so much. But Law & Order and CSI aren't QUITE as reliant on a single star. The stories themselves will keep people watching. There's an entire system to take over if the investigators are out of commission.

Hargrove's shows, on the other hand, emphasize the character and role of the private detective. Like with Miss Marple, Hercule Poirot, Peter Wimsey, and Tey's Alan Grant, if you don't want to spend company with Hargrove's detectives, well . . . that's a lot of television you might as well not watch.

Me? I wish the studios would hurry up and release more Hargrove mysteries onto DVD!

Die Hard Goes Matrix-y

2011-03-14T20:30:00.006-04:00

After multiple recommendations, I finally saw Live Free or Die Hard.

In comparison to Die Hard with a Vengeance and Die Hard, I still consider the original to be the best.

However, Live Free or Die Hard has some things going for it.

First, what it doesn't have going for it--

The premise is unbelievably dumb. At one point, Matt says, "It took five days for FEMA to get water to the super-dome!" Yeah, and in the meantime, the rest of the country was working just fine.

However, cataclysmic overload IS the fantasy of action movies--as Matt points out regarding the "fire sale." In my review of Die Hard, I comment that "we get to see the trashing of a building and city block! We don't want the bank robbers to succeed, but we get to see them (temporarily) succeed when the bank vault opens (accompanied by great music)."

This is really what end-of-the-world stuff is all about: giving the little anarchist in all of us (some) free reign.

In reality, even Rome took a long time to fall. (And don't tell me computers would speed it up; as Joe points out, modern companies--including the government--still don't use computers as efficiently as they could. Upload all the nation's finances to one place?! Oh, please.)

Allowing (and dismissing) the premise, the movie is far more tightly constructed than Die Hard with a Vengeance. Good action movies should have simple needs--in this case, get Matt to a place where he can figure out what the bad guys are up to computer-wise.

And Justin Long as Matt is far, far, far less annoying than as the Mac guy (and a surprisingly good actor--who knew!). He and Bruce Willis have great comedic timing, and the underlying theme (what does it take to be a hero?) is nicely paid off in several scenes.

I especially like that McClane is back to being just this ordinary cop who got pulled into an extraordinary situation--all he did was go pick up this hacker!

This concept of McClane is straight out of the first movie; more than Vengeance, Live Free or Die Hard captures the original motifs without simply recasting them.

For example, Timothy Olyphant plays the debonair bad guy. Though not as great as Rickman, he is far more tolerable than Jeremy Irons--and far more interesting to look at--partly because his motivations are well-established and also because he is a coward, unwilling to face McClane until he (falsely) believes McClane is toast. This makes his behavior towards McClane completely comprehensible throughout the entire movie.

Finally, the ultimate Die Hard theme--an analog guy in a digital world--is excellently paid off. (If one ignores all the people made out of rubber--I never thought human beings could bounce so well!)

John McClane proves why he, more than Stallone or Ford or Eastwood or even Schwarzenegger, is the origin of all the "Bournes," savvy action heroes of the modern age. McClane is the hero that can bridge the generation gap.

For example, the writers do a great job showing that despite the difference in age and perspective, Matt and McClane have a similar libertarian view of the world. And of bad guys. McClane is downright proud when Matt snows the On-Star lady into starting the car, and he is more than a little amused by Matt's "spamming" the bad hacker.

So . . . McClane *might* let Matt date his daughter (BTW, I love how totally like her dad, Lucy is.)

Which isn't to say that Matt doesn't have his own take on the world. One of my favorite exchanges is this one:

Matt Farrell: I'm not a doctor but-but you look like you're hurt.
John McClane: Sexy, right?
Matt Farrell: Um, no.

Analog meets digital. They both think the other is kind of odd--but mostly, they get along.

McClane will always be classic.

The "Endurance Plot"

2011-03-01T16:34:00.121-05:00

This post originally started out as commentary on Friends. However, it has morphed into a critique of a certain type of literary plot.

As part of our sitcom list, Mike and I reviewed Friends. As a result of reviewing Friends, I ordered and watched several seasons.

Here's what I learned.

Friends is extremely well-written, not just per episode but per season. The writers pace the big events extremely well; they aren't as crowded or as spread out as I had remembered.

And I never realized how long the duck and the chick were Joey and Chandler's pets!

I also learned that if you watch Friends too much, your brain cells will die.

You could say, "Well, that's true of all sitcoms," but I beg to differ. I have seen Frasier all the way through at least twice, and I've never felt like too-many-episodes=death-of-the-brain.

The writing (in terms of jokes/lines) is equally good on both shows; the difference in brain cell killage, I believe, lies in an underlying fundamental difference: Friends is a show about people who endure. Frasier is a show about people who create their own destinies.

In Friends, everything that happens, happens TO the characters, even when they are the cause of those things. Ross's divorces are things that happen to him. Rachel having a baby is something that happens to her. Rachel and Ross getting married in Las Vegas is something that happens to them. It isn't so much that they are victims; rather, they are constantly at the mercy of LIFE.

Now, this isn't exactly a false truth. Things do happen to us that we simply have to handle. Despite Ayn Rand's remarkably silly assertion in Anthem, we do not single-handedly recreate our own societies on a day-to-day basis. We are communal animals and part of being a communal animal is enduring. Say I get into a car accident--I fill out the paperwork, get a new car with another loan, and keep working, etc. I don't go live in a tree somewhere.

But this "endurance plot" is the only truth Friends knows.

In Frasier, Niles leaves his wife (of two days) to be with Daphne. By any moral standard, this is a really rotten thing to do. But it never bothers me the same way Ross and Rachel bother me because Niles is fully aware of what he is doing. He makes the decision and bears the consequences. There is never any suggestion that this is something that just happened to him, oops, guess he has to live through it.

Frasier is filled with people who may not make the decisions I would make but who are MAKING decisions that result in them creating certain types of lives for themselves.

Friends is about people who never really seem to get this.

And lately, it seems like this "endurance plot" has become rather ubiquitous. Without naming certain popular teenage series . . . it seems like the heroes and heroines are all reactive. Things happen to them, and they bear up. They bear up well . . . magnificently . . . endearingly.

But nobody actually gets on with things. As has been said, "When the going gets tough, the tough get going."

Or, as Eugene said once, "When the going gets tough, the tough leave." The Puritans got tired of being martyrs and sailed to America where they suffered but also where they built an entirely unique existence/culture/future.

"Endurance plots," on the other hand, only allow for one outcome: staying put and suffering. The Puritans remain in Europe; the Americans never get to the moon ("Oh, the Russians are beating us into space! I guess we should gnash our teeth and feel bad about it. Errrrrrr."); Monet et al. give up fighting the establishment and nobody hears of Impressionism. And maybe these specific outcomes wouldn't bother you, but they sure would make history kind of dull.

However, my main problem with "endurance plots" is not historical. I don't think they (or Friends) are indicative of the downfall of civilization or whatever. (In fact, if I were pushed, I would state that Friends is the type of show that keeps civilization trundling along--so many cultural norms are reinforced by the show, it isn't exactly a status quo breaker. Note: I'm not a big fan of status quo breakers).

My complaint is more aesthetic than philosophical.

To illustrate:

I like romances and mysteries because the tough do something, even if that something is to physically/metaphorically walk away from the problem. One fundamental rule of romances is that the heroine must change; internally, she (and sometimes the hero) undergoes a transformation. She doesn't change civilization as we know it, but she learns and grows within her own framework.

One fundamental rule of mysteries is that between the beginning and the end, the murderer must be identified (by the characters) and removed from society (absent a deus ex machina, also by the characters).

These are not HUGE, AWESOME changes; they are minor, personal, local. But they matter at the minor, personal, and local level. And I care about these changes because characters I care about make them happen.

But lately, there's been an awful lot of heroes and heroines I really couldn't care less about. I mean, so they've endured all kinds of horrible stuff . . . so, um, yay? Snooze. Okay, give me a romance or a mystery.

Guest Blogger: Gummi Bears Remembered

2011-02-20T17:38:00.000-05:00

Arriving home late from work the other day, I walked in my door and saw something that warmed the winter chill. My son, Benji, was sitting still (a rarity!) staring intently at the television. And coming from the speakers was one of the most cherished sounds of my childhood; and it wasn’t the theme of Star Wars! I had to grin as I watched my son totally hypnotized by the favorite cartoon of my youth, giggling as the Gummi Bears bounced here and there and everywhere.

Disney’s Adventures of The Gummi Bears (VERY loosely based on the candy) was responsible for the Disney television carton boom of the late eighties and early nineties. With its success, Disney launched several franchises based on their established characters, including Tailspin (Jungle book), Duck Tails (Donald Duck’s family), Chip & Dale’s Rescue Rangers, Darkwing Duck (Ducktails spin-off), Goof Troop (Goofy), and many others. It’s amazing that the genesis of this boom was also the only show not based on a previous property.

Gummi Bears tells the story of the small remnant of a once great civilization of bears possessed of advanced technology and magical knowledge. Jealous of the Gummis, humanity chases the bears from their lands, banishing them to the islands of the sea. Some stay behind to watch and observe, but as time goes by, the descendants of these survivors forget many secrets of Gummi history. Deciding to rediscover Gummi history, the group of bears begins a quest of knowledge. A pretty impressive plot for a kid’s show!

I don’t remember my first exposure to Gummi Bears, but I do remember that I loved it. The mystery of a magical past, ancient tunnels and devices, secret rooms and passages: I lived for that stuff. Gummi Bears had such a rich back story, it made for wonderful storytelling and presented some really unique and new ideas. Based in a fantasy setting, but with real sci-fi elements, Gummi Bears was the perfect chew toy for a teething Geek. All the great stereotypes and elements were there: monsters, a ruthless (though stupid) bad guy, magic, knights, ancient technology of a lost civilization, and a super cool secret base for the heroes.

Above all though, the Gummis were a family and a group of heroes. They fought to save the local humans constantly, and befriended several. Each Gummi had a distinct personality, and all served their roles. While the 80’s did have their influence, Gummi Bears was a strong, well-written, and extremely positive cartoon, especially for its time.

When I saw it on DVD a few years ago, I grabbed it purely out of nostalgia. When I rewatched it, I realized that I apparently had really great taste as a kid because the show was just as good as I remembered. So to see my son watching it now, absolutely transfixed, despite the technology and highly refined shows of today, made me want to leap with joy. Sure, every parent wants to share their interests and loves with their children, but for me, this was something more.

Gummi Bears is one of those truly wonderful relics from my youth, and I believe one of the most influential. Gummi Bears taught me that imagination was powerful, each individual was special, and the past is a fantastic source of knowledge. It was my gateway to a world of imagination and wonder that has held me captive to this very day. While there are parts of my life I’d never wish on my son (such as being a geek in high school… brrrr), I’m excited for him at the same time. He’s discovering something precious, and he’s in a place where he can savor it. And, he’s getting it from a source that I trust and return to every so often myself.

--Mike Cherniske

Great Adorable Grumpy Old Guys

2011-02-10T22:24:00.004-05:00

Fish (from Barney Miller): Fish is the ultimate ham. He complains about his health, his wife, and having to retire but never in a whiny way and, oddly enough, never in a way that leads you to think he doesn't actually adore his wife. One of my favorite lines from Fish is when he snaps, "Get away from me" at someone who is being particularly intrusive, such as Wojo. He really is the ultimate grumpy old guy who, no matter how grumpy he gets, you know has a heart of gold (and Barney Miller is not a sentimental type show). Plus, he looks great in a gun.

Adam (from Law & Order): The D.A. of NYC, Adam is the guy who says it like it is. He is also the guy who waves his hands in exasperation when Stone wants to do something risky. Like Brass on CSI, he has a roguish twinkle and sardonic tone that keeps him detached and amused even when he is prophesying doom.

Luger (from Barney Miller): Luger is the raspy-voiced Deputy Inspector who shows up to complain about modern life versus the good old days. His delivery (of some downright outrageous lines) is so deadpan, he always brings down the house. Luger reminds me of Eugene's description: "an aging cold warrior adapting to modern times but not leaving the past behind," a supporting character who keeps a show from veering off into "a mush of shallow moralizing with strawman opponents."

Ducky (from NCIS): Ducky (played by David McCallum who, oddly enough, doesn't look all that different from his Illya Kuryakin character despite the gap in years) isn't really grumpy. With that great accent and gentlemanly kindliness--not to mention all those interesting stories--he is absolutely adorable! However, he can be deadpan sardonic. Ducky represents old guy wisdom while Gibbs represents middle-aged guy terseness. Ducky is what happens when old guys accept that they are old guys.

Lionel Hardcastle (from As Time Goes By): Lionel is grumpiness personified. He is also a die-hard romantic (as so many grumpy heroes seem to be!). He's rather pessimistic but not as misanthropic as the very funny Dr. Becker. Lionel actually quite likes people, and he's very happy in his life--just so long as he can be grumpy about it now and again.

Dr. McCoy (from Oh, You Know): A decade older than Nimoy or Shatner, DeForest Kelly took on the role of grumpy old doctor who becomes the guy everyone goes to for advice. Sure, he complains ("I'm a doctor, not a therapist") but secretly he would hate it if he wasn't the voice of down-to-earth commonsense. In my opinion, Karl Urban did a decent job adopting that role.

James Earl Jones as the grumpy Darth Vader, the supposedly grumpy neighbor in Sandlot, and the grumpy writer in Field of Dreams ("Back, back, you're from the sixties!"). That gruff, melodic baritone is just so cool, it's hard to ever see Jones' characters as anything but attractive. I wouldn't be surprised if James Earl Jones was singly responsible for Darth Vader's redemption.

I should mention Doctor Sloan from Diagnosis Murder. Dick Van Dyke is the antithesis of grumpy old guy. Still, he is a treat to watch, and he can play grumpy old guy if he is really pushed to it.

And representative of young-guy-who-will-grow-up-to-be-an-adorable-grumpy-old-guy: Rodney McKay.

Guest Blogger: Mike Discusses Westerns Re-Imagined

2011-02-02T12:56:00.002-05:00

Recently, probably after watching the new 3:10 to Yuma, I became kinda/sorta obsessed with Westerns. As a kid I found them long and boring, and my tolerance for older looking movies was even lower than it is now. But now that I'm older, I find I appreciate the slower pace and the greater importance of character in the story. In a Western, nearly EVERYTHING is character driven--which is really cool after the last few years of big budget special effect juggernaut movies.

In the last couple of months, I've broadened my experience with Westerns, and I've realized something I never really knew: I've always loved Westerns. Some of my favorite movies, books, comics, and even the odd video game or two, are Westerns. They’ve just been disguised so well you would never know.

The Western isn't dead--it has adapted. The "Old West" doesn't exist anymore, so the Western now looks either back or forward. And forward, especially in post-apocalyptic settings, is where the ground is most fertile.

Here are five movies you might never suspect of being Westerns:

Serenity: Based on Joss Whedon’s Firefly, Serenity was written and shot as a Western in space. One can be distracted by the very prevalent sci-fi elements. Despite these elements, Serenity would not be a very different movie if you removed them completely.

Many of the Western staples are there: the ruthless man for hire, the out-of-place big city doctor, and the spiritually disillusioned Civil War veteran (who served on the losing side, of course). The costumes are VERY Western as is the choice of weaponry: bullet-shooting guns (charmingly reminiscent of the Old West) instead of blasters or lasers. The television series went out of its way to create Western scenery and situations with set design and costumes so accurate, if you watch a few minutes at a time, you’d have no idea there was a spaceship parked out back.

Serenity, however, did put the sci-fi first, bringing together all the action and adventure that such a movie can offer. But that didn’t stop the crew of Serenity starting the movie with an old-fashioned bank heist. The theme of the movie itself also works on both the Western and sci-fi levels: Freedom. Freedom to live, to work, to exist without being controlled, or monitored, which was the point of the Old West after all.

Kill Bill Vol. 2: The second and final part of what is in reality a four hour movie, Vol. 2 shares a little more backstory of the Bride, revealing her training, her name, the moment her friends betrayed her, and her final confrontation with Bill.

While the first movie is a bloody, violent homage to samurai movies, Vol. 2 is a tribute to Spaghetti Westerns, even sporting music reminiscent of the “Dollars Trilogy.” Most of the dialog and plot of the bigger story is contained in this second part, helping to create a slower-paced, more character-driven story.

The Bride is your classic “man with no name” character, back seemingly from the dead to have her revenge. She must hunt down and kill each member of her old crew, and each confrontation is memorable and wonderfully paid off. The movie even moves the action to Western locales with the Bride visiting El Paso and Mexico. The musical moments, I think, are the biggest element stolen from Spaghetti Westerns: the long pause in action and dialog as two characters stare one another down with the music delivering the lines of word and emotion. Powerful stuff. Add to that David Carradine playing Bill, and well, you’ve got an amazing movie.

Harry Brown: Starring the wonderful Michael Caine, Harry Brown is the story of a retired veteran living in a gang-controlled neighborhood. When his best friend is killed senselessly, Harry decides that someone has to make a stand. The tension in this movie gets so thick at times, you can barely see the screen. As Harry slowly begins to bring justice to the streets, you see a man acting out of desperation. The authorities can’t, or won’t, help, so Harry must do it himself.

A dangerous man out for justice may seem obvious for a Western but put him into a British slum, and you’ll understand why people might not catch on at first.

Book of Eli: A post-apocalyptic road film, Eli stars Denzel Washington as an enigmatic traveller with a mission and a sacred book. When he ventures into a small town run by the ego-maniacal Gary Oldman, Eli’s book makes him a hunted man.

The setting of this movie--the stark, barren desert of a war-torn country--creates a tone and atmosphere that SCREAMS Western. The main characters are all takes on classic Westerns motifs, and Eli’s mission and the focus on faith all work as Western themes. Not only a great movie, Book of Eli is a great Western. It’s even got a shoot out!

Water World: The most expensive movie ever made, until Titanic that is, Waterworld is about another post-apocalyptic world, this time covered in, well, water. The hero, played by Kevin Costner, is again nameless. Happily living on his own, the trouble starts when the hero ventures into a small town. Soon he’s on a quest to find the last piece of dry land on the planet, all the while fighting hungry scavengers for the key to finding it: a tattooed little girl.

Waterworld again explores Western ideas in a sci-fi setting: the wickedness of civilization, the fear of people living on the frontier, and one very pissed off and dangerous hero working to save his friend.

Summary

I think I love Westerns because the main character is so vital to the story. All of the movies above feature a very strong, silent hero that must fight the world to make a difference. While the hero's moral standing might be a little ambiguous, the hero fights for what he feels is right, even if the law doesn’t agree. Sparks fly when the hero faces a villain who also believes he is right: that’s the main draw Westerns have for me.

Misusing the Classics: Die Hard with a Vengeance

2011-01-28T13:09:00.001-05:00

In my last post, I discussed how just sticking popular/classic motifs into a movie/novel/television show isn't enough. There has to be a vision to back them up.

Die Hard with a Vengeance is a good example of this.

Don't get me wrong: Die Hard with a Vengeance is a fun flick. But I happen to consider Die Hard (the original) the best action movie ever made. So--even though I was warned that the sequels weren't quite as good--my expectations for Die Hard with a Vengeance were still far higher than my expectations normally are for an action film.

It wasn't a complete disappointment. The relationship between McClane and his fellow police officers is good. The relationship between McClane and Zeus (Samuel L. Jackson) is good. Samuel L. Jackson is good (if a little underused--let the guy chew the scenery more!).

Jeremy Irons is boring.

And therein lies the problem. Instead of following the natural flow of the story, the writers forced the classic pay-off/twist from Die Hard (yes, I will be giving it away).

The classic twist in Die Hard is that Alan Rickman's character is a bank robber posing as a terrorist. This is interesting because Alan Rickman is interesting. It is also interesting because of the relationship/dialog between the panicked, hyper McClane and the urbane, single-minded Hans.

The twist of urbane, terrorist-acting, bank robber is clever. So that's EXACTLY what the writers did in Die Hard with a Vengeance: psychopath is actually a bank robber. Only the result isn't interesting since Irons' psychopath persona is FAR more interesting than his bank robber persona.

For example, at the beginning of the movie, Simon (Irons) stutters when McClane yells at him on the phone. The police psychologist explains that this is because Simon doesn't expect to be challenged. The psychologist isn't being obnoxious or overly academic in his explanation. In fact, he commends McClane for pushing the guy's limits. It's a great set-up.

But at the end of the movie, Simon fake stutters to show that the WHOLE psychopathic persona was actually an act--ha ha--just like his brother Hans and his fake terrorist act--ha ha.

But that isn't interesting! It would have been far more interesting and far more effective if Simon had been a psychopath who thought he was a bank robber (like dear brother Hans) who turned out to be a psychopath. The stutter scene could have been paid off by a verbal confrontation, with stuttering, between McClane and Simon at the end of the movie (NOT by an exploding helicopter).

In fact, up to the 1/2-way mark, I think the writers were going in this direction. For example, the writers go out of their way to have Simon Gruber NOT say "Simon says" when the game changes (at the water fountain)--that is, after Simon has actually completed the robbery. McClane and Zeus are so wrapped up in the chase, they don't notice. I was SURE they would remember later, but the issue was completely dropped.

The movie is full of things that are dropped/not paid off. I'm as horrified by the idea of a bomb in a school as the next person, but, really, it should have been a real bomb. And the only other director who has underused Samuel L. Jackson more is Lucas. Let the guy scream at someone! Please! But at the end of the movie, he has taken over the role of cool, laid-back Powell from the first film.

And this is my point. Apparently, Die Hard 2 was a failure, so the writers say, "Let's use the same twists, characters, and motifs from the first movie" which is a great idea EXCEPT it needed to be done in a way that made sense, not just stuck into the film.

Having said all this, Die Hard with a Vengeance is NOT as bad as Spider-man 3. It still retains the joie de vivre of the first film. However, before I check out Live Free or Die Hard, I'm going to wait awhile. And I certainly won't watch Die Hard beforehand!

House This House That

2011-01-25T13:30:00.000-05:00

I watched three of the House shows (1900 House, 1940s House and Manor House) and part of the fourth (Colonial House). Here are my thoughts:

The best is Manor House—by a long chalk. In fact, Manor House, narrated by Derek Jacobi, is so good it almost belongs in its own category. Of the remaining three, 1940s House is the next best. But Manor House puts them all to shame. (I didn't watch Frontier House and will address why in a later paragraph).

Manor House was superb for several reasons:

1. All the people involved were intelligent from the houseboy up to the lord of the manor. Unlike the sweet but woefully clueless family of 1900 House, the members of Manor House had some idea of what they were getting into. A number of the servants had grandparents who had worked in service (the butler's grandfather had been a butler) and all of the servants were hard workers and had little sympathy for those who weren't.

2. Both the butler and Sir John wanted to make the experience authentic. They wanted to feel what it would have been really like. I personally thought that Sir John was a pompous git (an intelligent pompous git), and I sniggered a bit at his "concern" for his servants (whom he barely knew and certainly didn't understand), but the end result was quite believable. I think there were probably manor house owners who got involved in the day-to-day workings of their households. But I imagine that there were those owners, like Sir John, who thought they knew what was going on but didn't really have a clue about the lives of their servants and who could never have brought themselves to destroy the system, not matter how much concern they felt.

Sir John and Lady Oliff-Cooper, you understand, liked being lord and lady of the manor. I actually admired them for that. They were articulate about the problems they saw ("We hardly communicate," Lady O said. "Eventually, my husband would take a mistress and my children would be scarred for life. My son has to make an appointment to see me." And her son, Jon T, said, "Her brain has gone to mush," meaning that his Dr. Mom only talked about clothes), but they were also quite honest about how much they were loving it. They wept the day they had to leave.

The servants didn't. On the other hand, allowing that the servants had a tough life (and I'm very grateful my ancestors were the burgeoning middle class and preferred being poor in different kinds of ways), I found the servants' lifestyle ultimately more emotionally satisfying than the uppercrust lifestyle. I wouldn't opt for it under any conditions, but the servants had, at least, family-like relationships. They didn't all get along all the time, but they were close. Even the crazy French chef, whom none of them liked at the beginning, was considered part of the group—the crazy relative you keep locked up 364 days out of the year: nuts but ours. One of the housemaids said on the last day, "I don't know how I'm going to adjust to not having people around all the time." In any case, the servants' lifestyle was preferable to the life of Lady O's single sister; thank goodness for modern civilization in regards to women.

Of the servants, I agree with my sister Ann that it was Edgar, the butler, who made the biggest difference. He was a regular CEO (without the fat pay check); he decided what Sir John and Lady O heard about matters downstairs; he disciplined the servants (he started out tough and ended up more relaxed, but he was still fairly strict); he had a great deal of investment in making the experience real, in making the manor a true Edwardian household. He, too, was able to articulate the experience. In one of the most heart-rending statements of the show, he noted that the system worked but was based on a lack of communication. Not deception per se but a lack of honesty. Any such system is doomed to fail, Edgar said, and the Edwardian world was indeed "swept away."

This desire for authenticity is notably lacking from all but 1940s House (where the imposed conditions create a de facto sense of authenticity). In all the other House shows, the people in the show are 21st century folks plunged into strange settings where they have to wear unusual clothes and make things without power tools: Survivor without the bathing suits. This is one reason I never watched Frontier House. Watch people starve? Yawn. Watch people bicker? Yawn. Watch people self-implode? Yawn. Yawn. Yawn. You can watch that on Big Brother. Why drag in the historic setting?

Colonial House reached a truly horrible standard here. In one of the few episodes I watched, one of the Freemen decided to go "exploring"—so he left the village and the 1,000 acres on which Colonial House was set and backpacked into civilization where he sat at a bar and got a free beer.

His excuse for breaking the rules: "That's what they would have done. They wanted to explore."

I was reading a book about Jamestown while I watched, and I started laughing. John Smith--who was tougher than this pauncy, self-absorbed, angsty "I just want to explore" idiot could ever hope to be--never went on "exploratory" journeys without several men and lots of guns.

And then the narrator said exactly what I was thinking without all the "pauncy, self-absorbed" stuff.

Personally, I would have kicked the guy off the show and told the rest that he'd been eaten by a bear. Or killed by a Native American. Or gotten lost and starved to death. (No one's going to rush up to you in the wilderness with a pint, moron.)

He wasn't even punished, as far as I can tell, although he had the grace at least to be ashamed that he'd gone walk-about for three days while everyone else was working.

Thing is, the entire Colonial House show was like this. The religious issue really bugged me, not because there weren't many people who disliked Puritanism at that time, but because the issue wouldn't have been "my freedom of expression" but rather "what I believe instead." Ann Hutchinson, who got excommunicated by the Puritans, got excommunicated because she had a differing interpretation of scripture, not because she wanted to stay home on Sunday and watch TV. Even atheism was a theology of sorts, a position one took in regards the universe. I'm sure there were some cheerful agnostics and a lot of people who didn't much care but went along with the status quo, but IF you started making waves, it was usually because you had some kind of alternate belief system. If you were more into tolerance, you didn't sit around and whine about the lack of tolerance, you moved into Quaker territory, and if it turned out you really weren't all that much into tolerance, you promptly moved out again. After her excommunication, Ann Hutchinson moved to Rhode Island; they kicked her out because she kept trying to get people to do things her way. So she moved to New York and got killed by Natives. There was none of this "live and let live" stuff going on.

The point is, the volunteers of Colonial House were trying to live their 21st century lifestyles rather than trying to accommodate their views to a 17th century lifetstyle. Instead of trying to realize, for themselves or for the audience, the reality of the experience, they focused instead on "getting in touch with ourselves" and "getting something out of being Puritans"—yech. A substandard English Literature class is what it turned into.

3. One of the things that helped cross the line from 21st century people having an experience to 21st people capturing the reality of the period was the reality of the work.

In 1900 House and Colonial House, there was no real reason why the volunteers had to keep working. There was no real debt they had to pay off to the company. Nobody was really going to starve (or get eaten by a bear). The 1900 House women could stop wearing corsets if they wanted. They were no real neighbors they needed to impress. The Colonial House folks could have unrealistic, New Age-type Sunday services if they wanted. There was no reality being forced upon them and therefore, no real reason to go through with the fiction.

In Manor House, however, there was an imposed reality. Unlike 1900 House, where it was simply unbelievable that the mother wouldn't have had any friends amongst her neighbors or anything to do except go bicycling, the servants in Manor House (and Lady O's sister as well as the tutor) truly were trapped. The servants eventually resorted to bargaining with Edgar for their time off, and they only got it because (1) they were able to prove that servants of their time period would have gotten it and (2) because Sir John interceded (letting them all have the same half-day off much to Edgar's consternation).

Secondly, real life duties existed in the manor. Sir John and Lady O had REAL dinner parties. They had the REAL British Poet Laureate to stay. They had a gala ball. They had a hunting party. All the guests were real, not paid actors or whatever. These were real events. And the real (and completely insane) French chef had to prepare real dinners (by the way, the insane French chef was also committed to the idea of authenticity and got truly brassed off at Sir John for wanting more modern dishes—he considered it cheating, which it was, and that Sir John wanted the best of both the 19th and 21st centuries. He got so ticked off, in fact, that he deliberately roasted and served Sir John a pig's head. The servants applauded—downstairs—Sir John had no idea how much he was loathed.)

The servants had to work. And work hard. And both Edgar and Sir John insisted that they do the work as it truly would have been done. There was one rather chilling moment where a group of visitors were asking Sir John if his servants were happy, and he said, "Oh, yes, I think my servants are satisfied. A smiling housemaid is a happy housemaid," and in the background you saw the three footmen delivering dishes under Edgar's authority. And they didn't say a word. They didn't acknowledge what they'd heard. They didn't smile or smirk. When the (seated) tutor started going on about how rough he had things, they didn't respond, although later, Edgar criticized the tutor for "embarrassing Sir John and Lady O" and the footmen made the angry point that they were the ones doing all the work.

But nobody said a word. It was amazing. They kept within their roles, despite serious provocation. They acted real. And by doing that, the audience gained a sense of reality. I understood, as I never had with 1900 House, why the working poor were so attracted to socialism. When things are that bad, an ideology that promises to even things out looks pretty good. Granted socialism wouldn't have helped anyone. It took two World Wars to destroy the caste system in England and remnants of it still exist.

Now, it isn't possible to have a truly authentic experience, but there's historical accuracy, and then, well, there's Survivor with funny clothes. If I were in charge of say, Renaissance Town, I would do what they did in Manor House and give everyone rule books. There would be flexibility, but the volunteers would be expected to keep within certain bounds. Or I would do as they did in 1940s House and impose conditions that force the volunteers into more historically accurate behavior. If you did the Plague Years, you could keep hauling people off ("Bring out your dead. Bring out your dead.") without warning. This is much more disturbing than forcing people to build things with axes. I mean, come on, there are people who build things with axes in the real world. The only reason it becomes TV and "entertaining" is because the people doing it don't have a clue. And I just don't find it enjoyable to watch people not having a clue. Give me smart people with a clue and a desire for historical accuracy—that I can get behind.

Don't Give the Audience What It Wants

2011-01-17T21:14:00.002-05:00

In Plinkett's latest Star Wars' review (which is amusing though not as complete as the others), Plinkett, like always, makes a very cogent point.

Here is the cogent point in my own words:

Just because Darth Vadar became an iconic image of Star Wars doesn't mean the prequels needed to be about him. Just because Darth Vadar is important to us doesn't mean he was important to that universe.

For those of us who admire popular motifs/iconic images, I think this is a noteworthy conundrum. Yes, it helps when you are writing a novel/short story/movie/show to use motifs and plot-lines and characters that people actually enjoy and recognize.

However, if all you do is stick together the most common motifs/plot-lines/characters, 9 times out of 10, the product will be a dud--or, at least, remarkably lacking in staying power.

Plinkett does a fantastic, and thorough, job proving that, unfortunately, this sticking-togethering is how Lucas approached the prequels. He took iconic images from IV, V, and VI (the movies that I, person-who-saw-IV-when-she-was-5, insist on calling I, II, and III) and simply expanded and rehashed those images in the prequels even when the rehash made no sense.

So, for example, instead of the robe Obi-Wan was wearing in IV simply being the kind of robe people wear on desert planets, suddenly it became the robe ALL Jedi wear.

And instead of the training tools on Han Solo's ship simply being what was at hand, suddenly those tools became the way ALL Jedi are trained.

The result is unimaginative. And irrational.

It also highlights a very important principle. Classic motifs are good. Classic motifs backed by an actual vision are BETTER.

In a large, but not unmerited, segue, C.S. Lewis' Narnia series has been criticized for basically being a collection of every single fairytale/folktale/mythological image/motif C.S. Lewis encountered in the course of his extremely well-read life.

But as many critics, including Lisa Miller of The Magician's Book, have pointed out, it isn't the images and motifs that delight us, it is what Lewis did with them. He wasn't pretending to create new stuff; he was taking what he knew and rearranging it into a new pattern. He had a vision.

Frankly, I don't much much trust authors who claim to be doing NEW stuff.

But I also didn't trust Disney when it tried to sell the Pirates 2 as a "cultural phenomenon" before it even came out.

Simply sticking a bunch of a used iconic images into a movie does not a cultural phenomenon make.

Every writer has to have a vision. Without the vision, the writing sags. And should the writer give up that vision to satisfy the audience's supposed desire for an iconic image, the audience will feel the vision dribbling away.

This is one reason why writing to satisfy fans doesn't always work. The fans LOVE a couple of minor characters, so the writer(s) make those characters a bigger part of the drama, and, hmm, what do you know, the show is less satisfying.

On the other hand, refusing to give the audience what the audience wants out of sheer "BUT I HAVE TO BE DIFFERENT" perversity isn't too smart either.

The solution is writers who give the audience what the audience wants without losing their vision. This, of course, isn't easy, but I see two solutions:

1. Writers can give the audience what the audience wants without losing their vision when they like what the audience likes.

If you want to write romance novels, it helps if you like romance novels.

2. Writers can give the audience what the audience wants without losing their vision when the writers and the audience agree on what the writers are trying to do.

To clarify this second point, not all novels/stories/movies/shows have to focus on the latest popular topic: vampires, for example. People vary; interests vary. There's a lot of audiences out there to satisfy. I would argue that people want much of the same thing within their separate genres, but that's still a lot of room for individual creative vision-making.

Hey, there's even room for those people who think that reading stream-of-consciousness profundities about Life in Middle-Class America is NEW and DIFFERENT! (Shhh, don't tell them they are being pandered to.) The point is, the writers and audience agree that that is what is going on.

In other words, the rules are agreed to--even when the rules are Monty-Python randomness.

To illustrate: I recently came across a fairly ridiculous comment on Amazon.com about Dexter, Season 4 in which the commenter--in response to another comment--wrote, "Well, of course, you didn't want to see that character die because you just want mainstream, stupid television." As I, and several people, pointed out, having the character die was a pretty cliche, mainstream, stupid thing to do.(The commenter is the type of viewer who insists, "If you dislike anything about my show, you must be an evil, bad person who is trying to ruin entertainment everywhere.")

The commenter missed the fact that the Dexter writers didn't create a new idea; they simply rehashed a well-worn motif. And the motif broke one of the fundamental rules of the show. The fundamental rule of Dexter isn't "Nobody can die." The fundamental rule is "This show is about an extraordinary and dangerous person living an ordinary and supposedly non-dangerous life."

The writers blurred the lines.

This isn't clever. It's just lazy. It's what writers do when they don't know what to do next. The statement, "Well, we thought it was time to shake up the audience" is code for "We didn't know how to get the characters out of this situation."

It actually is harder to color inside the lines.

But ultimately more satisfying.

As long as the lines fulfill a vision.

Latest Narnia Film: Voyage of the Dawn Treader

2011-01-03T15:21:00.002-05:00

Voyage of the Dawn Treader is possibly my favorite of the Narnia books.

At least, it is the one I've reread the most often.

Consequently, I was rather nervous about seeing the movie. This is a book that screams MINISERIES! Trying to turn a mini-series into a feature film is fraught with problems.

With Dawn Treader, the best solution, of course, is to make Eustace's story the main story--rather as Edmund's story became the main story in LW&W. However, the Chronicles is an ongoing franchise. Getting rid of Susan and Peter was risky enough (and kudos to the writers for bringing them back for cameo parts). Forcing the audience's attention away from characters they've already invested in--Edmund, Lucy, and Caspian--is asking too much. Like with Prince Caspian (which I quite enjoyed), the story script has to be jiggled to move the invested-in-characters to the front of the action. With Dawn Treader, this involves a lot of jiggling.

So I went with a great deal of trepidation.

To some extent, my trepidation was merited. The film is not as strongly crafted as the BBC series (although the overall look of the film is much better). On the other hand, watching the film is a lesson in script-writing. How do you intertwine a set of disparate adventures keeping the same characters in the forefront while adding in the much more interesting arc of a totally new character?

Voyage of the Dawn Treader (2010) is the result, and it isn't half-bad. The context/ambiance for every island has been almost entirely stripped away, including some of my favorite scenes and lines; the visits to the islands have been re-ordered; and the quest that now propels the action forward is pretty weak. However, the story does move in one direction, Eustace's story isn't completely sacrificed (and even made me cry at one point), and some truly stunning images/problems from the book have been preserved. The addition of two unnecessary characters is confusing but understandable.

Now--about the White Witch. I actually don't have a problem with her showing up over and over and over again. For one thing, well, geez, if Tilda Swinton will keep saying, "Yes," you'd better use her. Second, these first three films have been, to an enormous extent, Edmund's. Yeah, they have. Go back and watch them all, starting with LW&W. The first movie's problem revolves around Edmund; the second movie's problem revolves around Peter and Caspian with Edmund playing the pivotal role of "guy who sets everyone straight at the end"; in this third film, the problem is shared by Lucy, Edmund, and Eustace with Edmund taking point. Edmund's bête noir is the White Witch. Hence, it makes perfect sense for her to show up over and over and over again.

Will she show up in the next movie? She should. At this point, they might as well keep her until The Last Battle. (Will they do The Last Battle? The BBC chickened out. I wouldn't blame the current producers if they did as well. On the other hand, why kill the franchise preciptiously?)

Of course, The Silver Chair doesn't appear to be in production yet. I hope this is simply a sign that the company is taking a breather. The Silver Chair is a made-for-order feature film/quest story. And they should bring back Will Poulter as Scrubb. He does a great job in Dawn Treader. Hopefully, our beloved Pevensies will make cameo appearances, but Scrubb plus Jill should be able to carry the film. Oh, and the White Witch, of course. (On the other hand, the choice for Puddleglum could make or break the film.)

To sum up, since the beginning of this franchise I've known that there was no way the producers/writers could make me completely happy. Pleasantly enough, unlike Spiderman 3, Law & Order:SVU, and Dexter Season 4, the third film hadn't killed the dream. I may not agree with all the producers/writers' choices, but I still feel like they care. I say, "Take the money and make another, better film!"

Why Mysteries Are So Fascinating--and How That Reason Connects to Fiction Generally

2010-12-28T11:24:00.000-05:00

In an episode of House, House--while sleep deprived--begins to witness exactly how he makes deductions. The process by which he makes connections and figures out cases is slowed down/exposed.

"This is so cool," House says.

And it is.

This slowed-down process is, I think, what makes mysteries so compelling. It isn't so much the SURPRISE ending. If so, people would never rewatch mysteries; I know people who don't, but most people do, hence CSI, Law & Order, House, Castle, Columbo, and multiple other mysteries are available on DVD--to be watched over and over and over.

Often, I will rewatch a mystery right up until the denouement. I keep the denouement on, but I start reading or typing on my blog. After all, I know what it is. What I turned the episode on for was the middle process of piecing together the mystery.

To a large degree, this piecing together explains and excuses dumb dialog. You know: the dialog where detectives define cop terms for each other or explain why they should look at C suspect rather than A suspect. And you're thinking, "Uh, guys, that decision would have happened two days ago in real life."

But what we are seeing is the slowed-down process--like House, we are watching how the dots get connected. The fact is, most police officers/detectives act on a combination of instinct and experience. By the time you do X numbers of cases about Y, you know to check suspect C immediately. But we get to see how the brain actually works when instinct and experience come together. (On a side note: yes, I think this happens. I think the brain does process and make connections even when we aren't aware of it happening. After staying awake all night a few years ago, I went to work. I was closing the car door, and I could feel my brain deciding to reach out and lift the handle of the door to make sure the door was locked. My brain was actually operating before my physical response. You don't realize how seldom that happens until you haven't slept for 24 hours. Yes, it is cool. It is also really freaky and dangerous.)

And I think that to a large degree, this business of showing connections is what makes all fiction compelling, not just mysteries. I wish I could say I was the first one to come up with this theory; I'm not, I just can't remember who did. But the first time I came across this theory, I went, "Yes! Yes!"

Human beings love to uncover things from a particular perspective. With most mysteries, if you're told the story straight--woman doesn't want to disappoint her parents who expect her to do great things with her life, so she sets up a fake charity, claiming to help people in Central America but actually she is pocketing the cash and when a young intern figures out what she is doing, she kills the intern--it is still interesting (and this is mostly how Columbo episodes operate) but when it is over, it's over. Unless you have Peter Falk investigating, there isn't any there for the there to go. (And even with Peter Falk, you have a particular perspective: HOW will he uncover the truth?)

But this particular Law & Order: CI episode doesn't start from beginning or even with the main players. It starts with the detectives investigating a loose end that leads them and us back to the main players.

In other words, we uncover information bit by bit from a particular perspective.

And this is how ALL fiction operates: information is uncovered, and the actual act of uncovering fascinates us. We are fascinated when the boy dressed as a girl is revealed as a girl. We are fascinated when the neighbor is revealed as a spy. We are fascinated when Bruce Wayne is revealed as Batman (to us, if not to the book/film's characters) no matter how many times it happens.

This is why supposedly too-sophisticated-to-use-old-devices writers who DON'T want to give viewers the satisfaction of the couple-running-to-each-other-across-the-field miss the point: we want to see the same thing over and over and over again in different guises. We want to see kids reunited with parents. We want to see husbands and wives forgiven. We want to see truth uncovered and told.

Let's face it: we homo sapiens are just a bunch of voyeurs.

And the best fiction satisfies our voyeuristic desires--without making us feel lousy about it.

Z is for "Zut alors!" or What Kate Has Learned From This Project

2010-12-17T20:06:00.001-05:00

What I (tried) to read: The Marriage Bureau for Rich People by Farahad Zama

This book is an obvious attempt to build on the success of Alexander McCall Smith's No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency.

Okay, that might not be fair. Maybe, Zama came up with the idea before McCall Smith became popular, and McCall Smith's success simply enabled him to sell his idea. Or, maybe he didn't but was inspired by McCall Smith (and why not?!). Or, maybe he just thought, "I could make a buck by doing the McCall Smith thing in India!"

Whatever his reasoning, I couldn't get into the book. McCall Smith rambles but does go somewhere. Although the first book focuses on Mma Ramotswe's biography, McCall Smith supplies little mystery arcs to keep you interested.

The Marriage Bureau provides lots of stuff-is-happening but no little stories. I kept thinking, "THIS chapter will give me a story about matchmaking," but no, just more information about the main character. So I gave up.

Having said that, the "Z"s are an excellent place to end--ha ha--because they excellently sum up how this project has gone. What do the "Z"s specifically prove about reading literature generally?

1. There's a lot of books out there that I have no desire to read.

Many, many, many books have been printed about characters' ANGST-RIDDEN/PROBLEM-RIDDEN LIVES, involving EMOTIONAL CHANGE and INSIGHTFUL, PROFOUND INSIGHTS AND PROFUNDITIES.

Oh, blech.

But people must read these kinds of books because people keep publishing them.

2. There's a lot of writers people have never heard of.

A lot of my students think that having a literary career means writing a novel that takes off and makes them famous. This is kind of understandable when you realize that most of my student's lives have been dominated by Harry Potter and Twilight.

Or it's just the age. Here's a confession: I thought the same thing at 20. AND I was trying to get published (unlike many of my students), so I should have known how hard it really was.

The truth is, publishing a novel is impressive but no guarantee of stardom. Unfortunately.

3. There are good writers you haven't heard of or read.

Out of the writers I read, the only one I have gone on to read more of was Elkin. However, I enjoyed reading Xenophon, Wroblewski, Trollope, Paton, Grant Morrison, Letts, Ishiguro, and Dreiser. Also, in browsing the letters, I was exposed to writers like Deanna Raybourn.

4. You can learn from bad writing.

It's unfair to keep picking on Jeffers since I don't actually think she is a terrible writer; I just disagreed with her vision. But reading Jeffers is what led me to write A Man of Few Words.

I don't think reading Hesse led me to do anything, but I sure had fun analyzing the Siddhartha.

5. There are a finite number of books.

Sure, there are many, many "S"s and billions of "C"s, but there are only so many "Z"s, no matter how many different libraries you go to.

The finite number of books is still an awful, awful lot.

Am I going to read them all?

No.

But it's nice to know that I could--if I did absolutely nothing else with my life ever again.

Will I do a project like this again?

Yes, although my next reading project will involve non-fiction and the Dewey Decimal system. But I will have a system. I like having a system to force myself to read more than mysteries, romances, and humor memoirs. I place a high premium on comfort in my entertainment; I've never believed that books and television must have an EDUCATIONAL purpose. Still, a systematic approach opens the possibility that I'll find something good or discover an opportunity to respond in a constructive, fulfilling way.

But I doubt I'll go back to the "Z"s for awhile.

Looking for Fun Examples!

2010-12-11T13:12:00.007-05:00

This Spring, I will be teaching Business Communications and Interpersonal Communications. I am very excited about both of these courses!

I am looking for clips as well as articles and books that highlight topics in both courses. For example, in Business Communications, I discuss getting a job. I found a great Caesar Millan article about his career path and how he used his past experiences to get him where he is today (the thing I like about the article is that Millan is one of those success stories that involve the whole process of yucky jobs to good jobs to vision; too many times, students think that life is going to be "I write a story which catapults me to fame"; it does happen; it just doesn't happen very often).

I would be interested in any suggestions! (And writing this list helps me brainstorm as well.)

Here are specific instances where a clip or article/interview, etc. would enhance the material (including examples I've already come up with):

Business Communications

Finding the right job (Dead Like Me actually has some funny clips about this)
Bad interviewing techniques and good ones (ditto)
Relating to good bosses and to bad bosses
Being a good or bad team member
Good or bad meetings (Big Bang Theory and Stargate: Atlantis both supply good examples of bad meetings--they are easier, and more fun, to televise than good meetings)
Conflict resolution
Good or bad reports/memos
Doing research on the job (investigation)
Arguing in favor of a new business plan, new business, new way to advertise (thanks to Eugene for the clip from Other People's Money)
Speaking before an audience: good and bad examples (I have one very funny example from Home Improvement where Tim dresses like a woman to help Jill prepare a speech)

For Business Ethics, I'm using The Apartment (Jack Lemmon and Shirley McClaine plus the awesome Fred McMurray; how could such a nice guy be so slimy!)

Interpersonal Communications

Communication complications (communication isn't just one person talking, the other person listening; the speaker is getting feedback from the listener at all times--I have a great example from Law & Order where the detectives go to tell a mother that her child is ill, and Logan gets progressively more upset because the mother isn't responding normally)
Roles that people adopt and how those roles change the way they communicate (think code-switching)
How perceptions affect how we communicate--how we bring assumptions to a conversation (this doesn't have to be a negative thing; people should bring their knowledge and previous experiences to a conversation)
Bad versus good stereotypes (the textbook calls it categorizing versus stereotyping; eh, tomate-o, tomah-to)
Negative versus good ways to handle emotions
Non-verbal communication (uh, I won't be using Lie to Me; the textbook argues that people who use Lie to Me techniques are usually WORSE at spotting deception than people who don't because they fail to pick up on verbal cues; I'm afraid I agree)
Use of language to establish convergence (match one's speech patterns to others--people in cliques do this)
Use of language to establish divergence (where speakers use speech patterns to set themselves apart from others)
Communication differences!

Cultural differences (I have a great Miss Manners letter that I'm going to use here)
Gender differences (so . . . a clip from every "married-people" sitcom ever made)
How children communicate
How teenagers communicate (badly?)

Improving Communication!

Creating a positive communication environment
Disclosing information--when it is good, when it is bad
Forgiveness
Listening--ineffective versus effective
Listening responses: mirroring, prompting, asking questions, paraphrasing, supporting

It may sound dopier than it actually is. A surprising number of students are freaked out by this course (which is a required elective--an elective that is required for some, but not all, majors), and I want to make it as much a practical experience for all personality types as possible (rather than some kind of "I'm going to turn you all into camp counselors!" ordeal). Here's how people communicate--here's what you can do about it (in a reasonably productive way): that's my approach.

New List on the Mike-Kate Video Club!

2010-12-03T09:24:00.004-05:00

This time we are doing sit-coms. Both Mike and I realized, after deciding on the genre, that saying, "Let's do sit-coms" is like saying, "Let's eat 10 elephants!"

Consequently, we narrowed the list using some fairly rigorous (for us) criteria. First, we chose a theme: friends and family. Then, we set aside sit-coms like News Radio because it is more work than friend-oriented as well as Fraiser and 3rd Rock From the Sun because they are fairly broad in their approaches (family, friends, work, aliens, the arts, romance, university life, etc. etc. etc.).

We also set aside British sit-coms. (Hey, we'll get to them someday!) And, finally, we kept the list to 10. A vast number of family-oriented 80's sitcoms did not make the final cut.

Here is the list:

1. Bosom Buddies: Review December 10th
2. Golden Girls: Review December 17th

BREAK: MERRY CHRISTMAS!

3. How I Met Your Mother: Review December 31st
4. Big Bang Theory: Review January 7th
5. Friends: Review January 14th
6. Dharma & Greg (cross-over between friend-oriented sitcoms and family-oriented sitcoms): Review January 21st
7. Family Ties: Review January 28th
8. Cosby: Review February 4th
9. Full House: Review February 11th
10. Home Improvement: Review February 18th

Our plan is to watch the pilot and then review a selection (our choice) to report on. Please feel free to do the same!