August 4, 2014
One of the reasons I like the Marvel movies so much is that I just get so darned excited about them. I haven’t fangirled this hard over anything since the first few years of The X-Files. It’s nice to have something to get excited about. Even if I do end up spending way too much time online searching for things like “dancing baby groot.”
August 2, 2014
I’ve never seen anything like this.
I mean, I have. This is the ragtag group of misfits on the run who must come together and learn to trust each other in order to defeat bad guys who want to destroy the world. That, I’ve seen. But never with a CGI raccoon person that was so good I forgot he was CGI. And with gorgeous spaceships in a beautiful four-color space opera world. And that’s genuinely a comedy. With an amazing classic 70’s soundtrack that was totally appropriate. (And to think, when the 1980 Flash Gordon came out, people laughed at the idea that you could have a 70’s pop soundtrack on a space opera. They’re not laughing now. I mean, they are, but they’re supposed to be.) The whole thing cohered.
And though I’ve never seen anything quite like this, it kept reminding me of other things.
For a few years after Star Wars was first released, a lot of people tried to hop on that train, because of course they did. Unfortunately, none of those efforts had Lucasfilm’s proprietary special effects processes, meticulous production design, charming cast, earnestness, or ability to become a genuine cultural phenomenon. The Star Wars-wannabe I always think of as being a prime example of this is Battle Beyond the Stars, produced by the legendary Roger Corman. Go on, go watch the trailer, so you can understand just what we’ve had to put up with if we wanted to watch space opera.
So yeah, I’m watching Guardians and weirdly thinking about Battle Beyond the Stars, because of course Guardians is the movie all those Star Wars knock-offs wished they could be.
The other movie this brought to mind, mentioned by one of my friends, is The Last Starfighter. Because Guardians made us feel like The Last Starfighter did when we were all teenagers or almost teenagers and really wanted to go have an adventure that meant something.
While Guardians made me think of all those other things, it still isn’t quite like anything I’ve ever seen before. Which is so cool. And you know my developing rant about how we’re all starved for earnest and optimistic stories where people come together and save things unironically? This. This this this. Right here. They just went for it, and it’s great. This movie is a throwback, in the best possible way, which makes the 70’s soundtrack even more thematically appropriate.
You know what this movie didn‘t have? An opening scroll and/or voiceover. SEE, SPACE MOVIES, YOU DON’T NEED AN OPENING SCROLL AND VOICEOVER OR LONG EXPOSITORY INFODUMPS. YOU JUST DON’T.
Easter Eggy Review:
The epilog/first pre-credits bit: This may be the happiest, most joyful scene in a movie I’ve ever seen in my life. Even now I think of it and smile. This will make me smile forever.
Post-credit Easter Egg: Marvel Studios says, “You thought you were going to get an Avengers 2 teaser here, didn’t you? Hahahahahahahahahahahaha!” Followed by everyone leaving the theater muttering, “Dear God, please tell us they aren’t actually going to be making a movie of that.“
Ten movies into this cycle/saga, and Marvel Studios can still surprise us. I love it.
July 21, 2014
I cry a lot while watching movies and reading books and looking at art and. . .well, I cry a lot. It doesn’t even have to be sad, it just has to be beautiful. If something is beautiful, emotional, and hits me right in that vague spot where my sense of wonder and heart live, I’m going to cry. The opening credits of Lilo and Stitch, for example, make me cry. I’ve been thinking a lot about how that works this week, because of a couple of things.
During my trip, my connecting flight out of Chicago Midway was delayed, and I was kind of miserable. The airport was super crowded, loud, uncomfortable, and for whatever reason I just didn’t have the reserves of willpower to deal with it. So I thought, “I’ll hide in a corner and read my favorite comic books.” (I have like 50+ comics on my iPad at this point.) So I picked a random issue of Planetary, which I suspect is going to be my favorite comic for the rest of my life unless something really amazing comes along. I only got about four pages in before I had to stop because I was crying. Part of it was I was already kind of emotional and upset. And part of it was I just love this book so much, and being with these characters made me so happy, I couldn’t contain myself. It was this specific scene that tipped me over:
Elijah: We keep angels here.
Jakita: I don’t like that I didn’t know about this, Elijah.
Elijah: I know.
– Planetary, #19, Warren Ellis.
There’s a ton of characterization in these lines. When Elijah says, “I know,” he isn’t being snippy or confrontational. He’s sad. He’s made mistakes and he’s trying to amend them — he didn’t tell her about the angels before, but he’s telling her now. Because of how much he cares about her. They’re a team. And I started crying because I love these characters so much. (That thing I talked about last week, about how tired I am of stories where people in dire circumstances are constantly being horrible to each other? Planetary is the exact opposite of that. It’s about unironically saving the world.)
Objectively there was no reason that scene should have tipped me over. I’ve probably read it a half a dozen times before without crying. But this time — yeah, it got me.
Then I went to see Jersey Boys, because sometimes I do go see movies that aren’t science fiction, and I grew up listening to The Four Seasons because that’s the kind of music my parents listened to, and I just adore their music. So this one? It starts, the screen is dark, and an instrumental version of “Oh What a Night” plays as the opening credits starts. And not two bars in I started crying.
(Aside: I really enjoyed Jersey Boys, both because of the music and because I was sitting next to my full-blooded Italian friend who completely and utterly lost it from laughing during one scene that he said happened pretty much exactly like that during his own childhood. Indeed, I was impressed at how many people in the movie talk just like the people in his stories about growing up.)
So, for me, this emotional jugular, this thing that makes me instantly cry after just two bars of music or two lines of dialog, is as much about memory as about story or mood or wonder or greatness. It’s something that makes me happy, something that I remember making me happy. It’s a cozy blanket for the brain, and I love that.
July 14, 2014
Given how much I hated Rise of the Planet of the Apes, there was no chance in hell I’d go see Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, despite the good reviews it’s getting. Good thing there’s another limited release under-the-radar science fiction flick out for me to go see instead.
This is the kind of hype Snowpiercer is getting: on The Mary Sue: “Review: Run, Don’t Walk, to See Snowpiercer, The Best Sci-Fi Film of the Decade So Far.” My Facebook news feed has had people raving about this. I confess to feeling raised expectations. Well…
This movie is not that good.
Science fiction has a long and glorious tradition of using the trappings of the genre to build up metaphor and allegory and commentary. Such tales work best when a) the story is rock solid, and b) the metaphor is consistent. (Like Edge of Tomorrow, to the shock and wonder of us all!) I was willing to give Snowpiercer a pass on logic (seriously, the economy of this thing made no sense), if it could give me something else — cleverness, consistency, sense o’ wonder. Alas, it wasn’t quite there.
First, it starts really slow. The page six problem — skip the opening scroll, skip the long meandering opening, and start when Claude enters to take away the two children. Next scene, the movie totally lit up when Tilda Swinton’s character walked in — thank God for Tilda Swinton! She very nearly saved the thing herself just by chewing all the scenery. And the movie got a whole lot better for awhile and I had great hopes that it was going to keep getting better. But then we get to that last forty five minutes, and it kinda fell apart.
I loved the set up. A globe-circling train carrying the last of humanity through an artificial ice age? Sold! All we had to do was get from the back of the train to the front. The tension ought to be built in. But the movie pretty much offered the same solution to every obstacle, and that solution wasn’t clever, it was violent. It got old quick.
It has some nice moments. It has some clever (the cigarette scene was great). It has a great aesthetic — reminiscent of Terry Gilliam, as the aforementioned reviewer said. (One of the characters is even named Gilliam! Is that an accident? Probably not!) Those scenes were lovely. But. But but but. There wasn’t enough surreal/absurd — it needed more Gilliam-esque — in story beats as well as aesthetic — and it needed to be consistent. But when Snowpiercer didn’t do clever, it fell back on cliches. I kept thinking…Gilliam would have been able to pull this off. (Fortunately, we have a Gilliam movie coming out later this year! Huzzah!)
(I have a rant about how for being a 99% v. 1% metaphor the movie has no grasp of Marxist theory and it really should, but we’ll skip that one.)
I kept waiting for a clever twist that never happened. Why do I keep expecting movies to be clever, dammit?
This is also yet another movie that posits that in dire circumstances, everybody will be totally horrible to each other in really horrible ways. All the previews before this? Movies about how in dire circumstances, everybody will be totally horrible to each other in really horrible ways. I’ve about had enough of this bullshit, y’all. I’m going to go watch Big Fish, which is free On Demand right now.
July 11, 2014
So I was thinking about CA: The Winter Soldier and how really really nice it was to see a big tentpole action superhero flick with a man and woman lead, working together, with absolutely no romantic involvement, or hint of one, or suggestion that there ought to be one. Steve and Natasha are friends, or become friends, and are totally professional. I think that’s just great.
Then I remembered the Necklace. THAT NECKLACE.
The necklace was definitely supposed to remind us about Hawkeye, and that Black Widow and Hawkeye might be an item. Was the necklace there expressly to tell the audience that Steve and Natasha won’t be romantically involved because she’s already “taken?”
On the one hand, this is a nice, subtle bit of signalling — much nicer than some ham-handed on-the-nose conversation would have been. On the other hand — is that kind of signalling even necessary? Is the only way to keep the audience from thinking that Steve and Natasha won’t hook up is to tell them that she’s already taken? Like they can’t just be friends? Like Clint has to frakking mark his territory or something? Argh!
Or am I reading too much into the whole thing?
June 30, 2014
Well, that turned out to be a lot of fun! Nicely done, everybody! There’s an interesting subtext here about war, futility, and gaming — this felt like a video game: dying, going back to start and playing forward with what you learned the last time. But Cage only really gets anywhere when he stops playing that part of the game.
The thing that really won me over: the main character, Cage, starts out being a complete asshole. What this means is this is a redemption story, very straightforward. But you know what I keep saying about the pleasures of a rote story, well told? You don’t need bells and whistles and head scratching plot twists. Tell me a solid story, tell it well, and the thing about this one is, Cage has to really work for his redemption. Really work for it, so by the end it’s very clear he’s grown and learned and come out of this a completely, believably changed person.
I love all this because Hollywood doesn’t often give us such flawed heroes (I’m not talking about the “bad boy with a heart of gold” kind of character that usually gets passed off as a flawed hero, I’m talking the “asshole who usually gets his head bit off first in a Jurassic Park movie” kind of character), with such difficult roads to redemption, and whatever else happens, whatever other nits I could pick with this thing, that makes the film worthwhile.
And is the kickass woman character (yay, Emily Blunt!) just a prize for the hero? No. (Or at least, it’s really ambiguous.) And isn’t that nice?
And now, a story that may or may not be relevant, but the movie reminded me of it so I’m going to tell you
Years ago — 1997 maybe? — Clancy Brown came to Starfest to promote Starship Troopers and I got see his talk. He showed the proof-of-concept clip Veerhoven had put together, sixty seconds of pure brilliant awesome that left the room silent (and to this day I still mourn that the final product couldn’t replicate that sixty seconds), and talked some. Then he opened the floor for questions, but he started by saying, very carefully and specifically, “Look, guys, I know you want to know about the power armor, but we weren’t able to do the power armor. They just couldn’t figure out how to do it. So please don’t ask me about the power armor.”
I think the very first question was asking how they were going to do the power armor.
Over the course of next half hour, four or so more people also asked about the power armor, and each time Clancy Brown patiently, but with obvious frustration, explained that no, there was no power armor, they couldn’t do the power armor, sorry. And yet, people kept asking.
And that was the moment I knew Starship Troopers was going to be a terrible disappointment to a lot of people.
But that first battle drop scene in Edge of Tomorrow? I kept thinking, that right there is the scene that all those people at that Clancy Brown talk really wanted to see.
June 18, 2014
You know that thing where people say, “Well, how do you write strong/tough/kickass/whatever women characters who aren’t just men with breasts?” i.e. so-called women characters who are basically men, in female trappings, doing male-type things in the story. I guess.
I realized awhile back that I have no idea what this means. Seriously. What kind of men? What kind of breasts? What does this even mean? The answer is, it doesn’t mean a damned thing. In fact, I think it’s nothing more than apologia, another thing feeding into the idea that strong/physically tough women characters are somehow weird and need to be explained, and if you do them wrong you’ll be accused of some kind of. . .I don’t know. I’ve written before about the discomfort with powerful women we often see in fiction, how they’re often mitigated by being some kind of “chosen one,” or given some kind of traumatic past that explains their current power, or saddled with perceived feminized weaknesses like low self esteems. What this “not just men with breasts” statement says, I think, is that you’re supposed to somehow temper tough women characters. Give them something that makes them “not men.” When you ask, “Like, what?” you usually get some kind of answer like, “Oh, you know, women are more nurturing, they have to be feminine, they have to have something that shows that feminine traits can be strong too. . .”
That is exactly the essentializing bullshit we’ve been trying to get away from. The minute you start saying things like “Women characters have to be like x, y, z, and shouldn’t be like a, b, c — ” you aren’t writing characters anymore, you’re writing stereotypes. Don’t do that.
I mean — give me an example of a woman character who’s “just a man with breasts.” Show me an example where this terrible mistake has been made. Book, movie, whatever. Vasquez in Aliens maybe?
Vasquez may be the butchest woman character ever to appear in a genre film — and there’s no mistaking her for a man. She says so. She’s a badass who’s amassed an arsenal of skills to deal with the male-dominated world she lives in. She has a problem with authority, and a take-no-prisoners attitude. She’s a great character.
Here’s my pick to play Wonder Woman, Gina Carano, in Haywire, where she plays a superspy on the run from a serious double cross.
No one is more physically tough than this woman. Anyone gonna mistake her for a guy? Is Mallory “just a man with breasts?” Oh hell no.
Okay, here’s a character who’s definitely been accused of being too “mannish” or not feminine enough:
OH WAIT THAT’S NOT A CHARACTER THAT’S ACTUALLY MARGARET THATCHER, AN ACTUAL HUMAN WOMAN. (My apologies for posting a Margaret Thatcher speech, everybody.)
And there we have it. “Too manly” and “not feminine enough” or “too bitchy” or whatever are intended to be insults levied against actual real world powerful women to detract from their power.
That’s when I realized this whole “just a man with breasts” thing was total bullshit. Because I don’t think it’s ever been done — it’s just another way to be scared of writing strong women. Stop saying this, stop talking about it.
Really, seriously — to write strong women, write strong people. I’m going to list a bunch of character traits: funny, sly, smart, wise, kind, caring, ambitious, physical, psychotic, manipulative, narcissistic, thrill-seeking, generous, restless, brave, cowardly, cautious, cheerful, optimistic, practical, articulate, calm, elegant, dramatic, loyal, sympathetic, proud, humble, gregarious, stoic, emotional, hyper, gentle, graceful, artistic, restrained, stubborn, aggressive, passive, aloof, clumsy, cruel, curious, anxious, quiet, loud –
Which of those traits are female and which are male? Bueller? Bueller? You should be able to list ten traits for your main characters before ever referring to their gender. Because those are the sorts of traits that are going to impact the story, and determine how that character responds to the story.