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Strong Female Character Friday: Kate (A Knight's Tale)

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I had this happy moment last week where I was flipping channels on the television, idly looking for something to watch, when on came A Knight's Tale. It was near the beginning, right after they'd met Chaucer for the first time, and so I hunkered down and watched all the rest of the film. I didn't have to. It's not like I don't own it on DVD or also know that it's available to stream on Netflix. But I wanted to. It's one of those movies that makes me happy every time I see it, and this was no different.

But as I was watching, I got to thinking about the characters, like I generally do, and I realized that I have been utterly remiss in mentioning my favorite thing about this movie on the blog so far. While I have covered the glory of Jocelyn and her status as a royal woman of color in the middle ages, as well as how interesting her insistence that William's love of jousting is no more noble than her love of dresses is, I haven't really ever talked about Kate. And I love Kate. Kate's my favorite part.

So for those of you who somehow managed to miss this utter gem, the story goes like this. Will (Heath Ledger) is a poor nobody working for a knight when the knight kicks it before they can all get paid. Instead of just hightailing it off on their own, Will convinces the other squires, Wat (Alan Tudyk) and Roland (Mark Addy) to dress him up in the knight's armor and let him finish the tournament. They get their money and figure that this is a good scam and they might as well keep it going for a while.

Along the tournament road they pick up Chaucer (Paul Bettany) to act as their herald, and run into a beautiful princess, Jocelyn (Shannyn Sossamon), with whom Will falls utterly in love. Oh, and they meet Kate (Laura Fraser), a female blacksmith with a chip on her shoulder and the ability to make armor better and lighter than anyone else in the world.

What I love about Kate is how much she, as a character, really is no different from all of the men. While Jocelyn and her lady's maid are rather removed from Will and his gang of weirdos, Kate is right in the thick of it. She gets hired on and travels with Will from tournament to tournament. She gets drunk in the pub with the boys, holds her own in a fight, and frequently teases them into incomprehension. She's just one of the lads, except she's not. She's so much more than that.

Kate's first introduced as a ferrier, a blacksmith who mostly just makes horseshoes, and we're told that her husband was the blacksmith, but since he died she kept up the forge because she needs the money. That explanation, though, is pretty insufficient, and it's not soon after we meet her that we start to see why. I mean, yes, Kate is the kind of woman who can be goaded into repairing armor on credit because the other men "don't think you can do it." But she's also the type of woman who can whip up a suit of armor just as strong and good as the other knight's but nearly a third of the weight in a single night.

I mean, we've been talking about ladies of STEM these past few weeks, and this is just another example of how interesting your story can be when you acknowledge the contributions that women make to science and engineering. Kate has found a new way to process steel so that it's much lighter but just as strong. She did. Her husband didn't teach it to her and she didn't steal it from some other blacksmith. She came up with it on her own.

And the movie shows us that Kate's right. It is the best armor. It's amazing. The stuff can stand up to just about anything. But more than that, they show that it's wonderful but also that Kate faces many challenges in getting the world to recognize her genius. And I really appreciate that.

Kate can make the best armor in the world, but what does that matter if no one will wear it? The only reason she can get Will to wear her stuff is because she essentially blackmails him, then she dares him to do it. She faces constant discrimination and sexism, and while she bears up under it, the movie doesn't shy away from telling us how hard it is. Kate has a hard life, but it's a life she's chosen, and she seems to be okay with that.

Even better, she's not just one dimensional in her amazing blacksmith abilities. Yes, she is essentially a savant, but she isn't just left with that as her defining characteristic. Kate's also a bit of a romantic. While we never do meet her late husband, even in flashback, it's clear she married for love and that she loves him still. When she talks about him she looks soft in the eyes, and we feel the weight of his passing.

Later in the film, when Will has decided to lose all of his jousting matches to prove his love for Jocelyn, the men think he's crazy, but Kate thinks it's a romantic. Turning to her, Roland asks, "Are you a woman or a blacksmith?"

And Kate replies, "Sometimes I'm both."

For me, in a big way, that sums up her character and why I like her so much. Because as a kid growing up, that's how I felt. Like the world demanded that I be either a girl or really interested in explosions. That I could be feminine or strong, but not both. But I am both. Femme is not fragile, and I don't have to like wearing pants in order to fight for feminism. They're not mutually exclusive ideas.

The importance here, for me, is that none of Kate's character was accidental. It's not like they just happened to decide that the crucial blacksmith character in the movie be a woman on a whim. It would have been so much easier to make her a man. Or, at the very least, to make her a woman with a major male love interest. Like, say, Wat, the only other conspicuously single character.

But the movie doesn't do that. Kate gets to be Kate. In love with her dead husband. Blissfully romantic. And yet still capable of wielding wicked hammers that can break bones and shape iron. She doesn't need a man to define her, but she's not the sort to declare her independence in spite of circumstance either. She's not one of those one dimensional "sexism is over" cardboard cutouts, she feels like a real live woman. She faces sexism and discrimination and hardship and loss, but she also goes out for a drink with the boys and invents brilliant new things and can burp longer than any of them.

Sometimes I'm both.

I'm not sure why being both is so threatening, but I have gathered from life experience that it is. That there's something really dangerous when women band together and say, "Yes, I am like other girls. What's wrong with other girls? What makes you say that because I like climbing trees and building go-karts and fighting with toy swords I'm not like other girls? What makes you say that other girls are bad?" That's a declaration of war, it seems, even if I'm not sure I can tell what it's a war against.

But it is, isn't it? There's a war on, and it seems to want us to declare that we're "not like other girls", as if being like other girls is something to be ashamed of. I am happy to announce that I am like other girls. I like superhero movies, like a lot of girls, and comics, like many girls, and pretty dresses, like some girls, and blowing things up, like more girls than probably admit it. I am just like other girls because the differences aren't enough to make me lose my gender. They just make it all more interesting.

Kate can be a blacksmith and can be the single most competent person in the entire movie - which she absolutely is, watch it again if you don't believe me - and she can also be the one who walks into a room where a bunch of men are desperately trying to learn to dance and have them whipped into shape in an afternoon. Just because she's a brilliant engineer doesn't mean she can't love to dance. Just because she thinks it's romantic doesn't mean she makes bad armor.

I love Jocelyn because she stands up for her interest in girly things and refuses to let them be devalued. But I love Kate because she can understand the importance of liking "girly" things and "manly" things and how liking both doesn't make her less a blacksmith or less a woman. It makes her more of both.

Plus, there's something to be said for a movie where even though the two main female characters really have nothing in common or much interest in each other, they never get catty or mean towards one another. Kate only has nice things to say about Jocelyn, for all that she really doesn't get her.

As a closing thought, I do have to say that this movie in general has absolutely wonderful things to say about gender and class. Roland and his love of embroidery and fine cooking is a great counterpoint to Kate, and Wat's raw emotionalism is such an interesting statement about masculinity - especially when we realize how easily and openly he cries.

But all of that is stuff for another day. For now, let's think on this: who profits most from making it seem like a bad thing to be "like other girls"? And how can we teach everyone to say, "Sometimes I'm both." Because damn right you are, and so am I.



My Top Ten Holiday Themed Whatevers

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Okay, to be completely honest right now, I really want to write a long and comprehensive article about why I feel A Muppet Christmas Carol is the best possible holiday movie - themes of redemption, the redeeming power of love, the value of looking outside oneself and seeing others fully, and of course muppets - but I'm a little tired and more than a little braindead today. Hopefully I'll have that really good article up for you tomorrow. But in the meantime, here's a short list of my favorite holiday specials/holiday themed videos and stories and jokes.

Because it's Christmas, and I'm feeling generous. Also lazy. But let's focus on the generous.

1. How the Grinch Stole Christmas (cartoon)

Personally I don't have much time for the live-action Grinch movie that came out a few years ago and feels like an insulting travesty, but I always have and always will love this quick little cartoon about a grumpy green guy learning to love his fellow man. Like The Lorax, I think it's the height of Dr. Seuss' writing, and like The Lorax I think that the story is too short and simple to make a good full length movie. But the animated short is only about thirty minutes long and it works perfectly.

I mean, who doesn't feel all wobbly inside when the Grinch hears all the Whos down in Whoville singing and being joyful even without their presents? And who doesn't cheer just a tiny bit to see the Grinch serving up the roast beast? I may be grimly unsentimental most of the year through, but show me a snippet of the Grinch's heart growing three sizes and I will blubber with the best of them.

2. The SNL Christmas Special

Okay. I am the first to admit that my love for and loyalty to Saturday Night Live is mostly unwarranted. It's doing better now than it has in years, but the show is pretty strongly hit or miss and sometimes all you can do while watching is facepalm. But, that having been said, this compilation of the show's best Christmas sketches over the years, ranging from the timeless "Schweddy Balls" to the more recent but still hilarious "Do It In My Twin Bed", is great. Just great.


Also, it features the premier of Adam Sandler's Hannukah song on Weekend Update, which is a moment in history we shall not soon forget. And not just because my sister and I ended up reciting all the words to that song to each other on the phone the other day.

3. Love Actually

I talked more in detail about this movie last year, but suffice to say that for all this movie is a puddle of hyper-gooey schmaltz, I really really love it. I want that little boy to be able to tell that little girl that he loves her and I want Colin Firth and the nice Portugese lady to end up together and I want Alan Rickman to stop being a bad husband and I really want the Prime Minister to end up with the funny housekeeper girl, and I generally want all of these things to happen to swelling music and a parade of gleeful moments and cameos by everyone in the British film industry. So sue me.


But seriously, I don't think this movie is perfect, but I do think that it's really fun. It's blissfully romantic in the kind of earnest and unselfconscious way that very few movies are now. It's not a major cash grab, because it wasn't actually supposed to be a hit in America (you can tell by how much they poop on Americans in the film), and it's all the more charming for how deeply and intentionally British it is.

Plus, who doesn't love watching a movie like this and giggling while Mr. Bean shows up or squealing when someone rushes to the airport to tell someone else they love them or rolling your eyes when something cliched and dumb happens but refusing to stop watching because you have to know how it turns out? No one, that's who.

4. Home Alone

Oh come on. Who doesn't like celebrating the holidays with a psychotic little kid who can booby trap his entire house in the time it takes most people to get to the fridge for another glass of milk? More than that, though, there's something so touching about the plight of Kevin in this movie and his mother's desperation to get back to him, to not leave her child alone, that actually makes me feel my feelings. And isn't that what Christmas is all about?


5. 30 Rock - "Ludachristmas"

It's the episode where we first met Liz Lemon's whole family and discovered that there really is no such thing as a happy family over the holidays, but somehow the gang pulled it together and we got to see how even a dysfunctional family can still love each other and that Kenneth really knows the true meaning of Christmas.

6. The Nutcracker

Yes, I like ballet. And yes, I really like this particular overdone and criminally cheesy ballet. My family used to go see the Boston Ballet perform The Nutcracker every year (because culture snobs), and the music still gets me in the Christmas mood no matter when I hear it.


Sure, it's a weird story about a toy that turns into a prince and some evil mice, but the whole thing is utterly charming and fun and exactly the right speed for a small child who would give her left arm to be taken to the land of sweets. Just saying.

7. Veronica Mars - "An Echolls Family Christmas"

This episode has everything, but most importantly it has the deep and meaningful class tensions that made Veronica Mars a great show. When Logan organizes a holiday poker game, Weevil decides to get himself invited and make some easy cash, but the uneasy truce between 09ers and the underclass gets a bit strained when the poker money disappears. Veronica's brought in to solve the mystery before everyone comes to blows, and all of it goes down during the Echolls family Christmas party, a party that ends with a very literal bang.

8. Supernatural - "A Very Supernatural Christmas"

We get to find out what Christmas was like for the boys growing up as Dean demands that he and Sam have a nice regular Christmas during what could be his last year on earth. But reality intervenes and the boys end up hunting the Anti-Clause, or some pagans gods, or something that's eating people for Christmas and doesn't seem to be very polite, no matter how many Christmas cookies it offers you. 

Also we get some really quality flashbacks that make us wonder how Dean is as sane as he is, and we finally found out the origin of Dean's amulet. All in all, a good episode and arguably one of the show's best.

9. Calvin and Hobbes - All the comics about Christmas and snowmen

Okay, this one's kind of a cheat because there isn't exactly a compilation of the snowmen and holiday comics, at least not one that I know about, but Calvin's endless snow-sculpting creativity and his angst over whether or not he'd been good enough for Santa to appreciate his efforts gets me every time. I wasn't personally a Santa believer as a child (feel free to make of that what you will), but I do love reading all of Calvin's turmoil on the topic, and I really love how his parents invariably handle it all.

Maybe that's the test of whether or not you're a grownup? Do you relate more to Calvin or to his parents? Because his parents are great. Food for thought...

10. And finally, SNL - "Sump'n Claus"




Merry Christmas! Have Some Christmas Gifs!

Into the Woods - Careful the Things You Say, Children Will Listen

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So, like any former theater nerd all grown up and now a productive member of society, I have a lot of feelings about Into the Woods. I remember the first time I saw a production of it (a high school drama club, of course), and I remember thinking, even though it was a little bit abridged and a lot bit done on a shoestring budget and with a mediocre cast, that this was a musical I could really get behind. This was a story I understood and wanted more of. That this, the lovely darkness and twisted ambiguity of Into the Woods, was exactly my cup of tea.

Which is why when I heard that Disney was making a film adaptation I immediately clenched up in horror. 

Well, I can tell you now without much hesitation that my clenching was mostly in vain. The movie's good. Not great, mind you, but good. A very solid movie musical that's faithful to the original but doesn't suffer for it. More Chicago than Les Miserables, if you know what I mean. A sturdy adaptation with good casting, a nice interpretation, and nothing particularly new or interesting to add. 

So if that's all you're looking for, you can go now. That's the movie in a nutshell. Johnny Depp isn't fantastic, but he isn't on screen for long and he does a passable job as the Wolf. The kids are excellent, and in general the actors all turn out to be really good singers. It doesn't add anything, sure, but it doesn't take much away either, and if you're a fan of the musical you aren't apt to find too much to complain about in the movie. It's not perfect, but it could have been a whole lot worse.

That having been said, it could have been a whole lot better too. It's funny, because the Witch's indictment of the townspeople could also apply to this film: "You're not good, you're not bad, you're just nice." Because it is nice, and you know how I feel about nice.

But I should back up for those of you who aren't massive fans of the original Stephen Sondheim musical and have no idea what I'm going on about.

Into the Woods is a musical that mixes together all of your favorite fairy tales into one story. You've got Cinderella (Anna Kendrick) who despises her stepmother and stepsisters, and with the aid of her mother's ghost gets dressed up to go to a festival where she catches the eye of a charming Prince (Chris Pine). In another part of the woods you also have a Baker and his Wife (James Corden and Emily Blunt) who desperately wish to have a child but can't because the Witch (Meryl Streep) put a curse on their family. To reverse the curse they'll have to gather some spell ingredients in the next three days or live with it forever.

Meanwhile, Jack (Daniel Huttlestone) is an airheaded little boy who has to sell his prize cow (and only friend) to save himself and his mother from starvation and ends up with a couple of magic beans. And of course Little Red Riding Hood (Lilla Crawford) is on her way to Grandmother's house when she's waylaid by the Wolf (Johnny Depp). Oh, and Rapunzel (Mackenzie Mauzy) and her Prince (Billy Magnussen) turn up in here too.

So it's all just one big jumble of fairy tales, and for a while at least it all goes according to plan. Sure, the characters are much more developed and, well, human, than we usually see them, but the stories aren't that different. Cinderella gets her Prince, Jack gets some giant gold, Red is saved from the Wolf, and the Baker and his Wife have their child. Even the Witch gets what she wants - albeit not entirely since Rapunzel runs off with her Prince too.

What makes this story at all interesting or unique is what happens next. See, the whole premise of Into the Woods is that life doesn't end at happily ever after. There's an after ever after, and it's usually messy and human and scary and not nearly as fun as the bit that came before. Life is much bigger and wilder than we like to tell ourselves it is, and it rarely ties up neatly with a little bow.

The second act of the show, and the final third of the movie (roughly), is much much darker than the first. As the characters slowly reenter the woods, fleeing for their lives from an angry giant, they realize that the woods can be much more dangerous than previously supposed and that all of their happily ever afters are much more complicated than they seemed at first glance. Cinderella and her Prince barely even know each other, let alone have a solid relationship. The Baker and his Wife have a child, but now they have to figure out how to be parents when they didn't really have good examples. It's all much harder than it seemed.

And that's precisely why I love it. I love that Into the Woods is about the consequences for telling ourselves that happily ever after is a thing that happens. One of the main themes of the show is the idea that we should be careful what stories we tell children, because children will listen. So if you tell a child that everything will work out fine in the end, then that kid is apt to grow up and be very frightened and disoriented when it doesn't, in fact, all work out in the end. 

Why? Because there is no end. Your life is just one tiny thread in the story of the world and while it is a vitally important thread, it might not make sense when you look at it on its own. It might not all work out. It might be scary and hard and not at all what you wished for. And that's okay.

Honestly, I feel like being familiar with this musical really helped me out when I started to enter the real world and came to the quick conclusion that happily ever after is a misnomer because it presupposes a nice clean ending. In reality life is messy and real and human and full of mistakes and regrets and joy and terror and much wilder than any fairy tale I know. Into the Woods prepared me for that, and I'm grateful.

I think my dissatisfaction with the movie - and that's what it is, not a clear and defined grievance, just mild dissatisfaction - stems from that fact that it's all very Hollywood. Everyone is scrubbed up and shiny and good and very very nice, and no one feels all dirty and messy and mean. Everyone is likable, and I don't like that.

Obviously this isn't the end of the world, but it does make a difference in my interpretation of the film. It does matter. It matters because when the point of the film is that life is not a clear story with a defined "and they all lived happily ever after" in there, then the characters we follow should be equally complex. They shouldn't be good, they should be human instead. And these characters were just a little too good.

I don't think I'm verbalizing this properly.

So, at the end of the movie, Cinderella and her Prince part ways because when it comes down to it, they're not well suited for each other and they really don't know one another at all. Cinderella's stepmother and stepsisters run away from the giant, and aren't really seen again. Rapunzel and her Prince ride off into the sunset after she repudiates the Witch and tells her that she never wants to see her again. And that's the last we see of those characters.

The problem with that ending isn't that it's vague or that those characters just sort of drift off screen. I'm totally cool with that. My issue is that we don't get to see how those characters, who don't get the message of the story, are doomed to repeat it. In the musical, both Cinderella's Prince and Rapunzel's become dissatisfied with their wives and end up chasing new and exciting princesses (Sleeping Beauty and Snow White) that they find in the woods. The whole concept of those characters is that they both want what they cannot have and never learn to be satisfied with what they've got.

Rapunzel doesn't get a happy every after either. Driven crazy by the Witch's treatment of her and left by her Prince, she wanders out into the woods and is killed by the giant. That's when the Witch decides to pack it in the with the world because she has nothing left to live for. And we do see Cinderella's stepmother and stepsisters again, but only to confirm that they ran away and hid and survived because people like that always survive, and they'll keep on being horrible and nasty and not learning things for a while longer.

In other words, what I liked about the ending of the musical was that it showed the consequences of believing that there is a happily ever after and constantly chasing that "I wish..." It showed that if we don't learn from the situations we're placed in, we're doomed to repeat them. And it also made it abundantly clear that we have to learn if we ever want to move forward. Not just for ourselves, but for the people around us. Especially for the children.

The movie did an okay job with this bit, actually. Because the real point of the show and the movie is the idea that children are listening a lot more than we think they are. Not just to the words we actually say, but to our actions as well. Jack learns to be greedy because his mother is. She never tells him to steal or even tells him that she's glad he did, but he can tell from the way she acts that she's glad he did, so he does it some more. He was listening. 

I'm dissatisfied with the movie because it didn't go far enough. It didn't make it clear enough that life doesn't get easily broken down into the fairy tale and the happily ever after. It's actually much more complicated than that, and a lot harder to understand. Life is, effectively, the woods. We're all lost and all confused, but some of us want to change. Some of us are looking for something more than happily ever after. And it's not easy, but it can be good.

I'm just not comfortable with the movie neglecting to remind us that in life, the bad guys don't always get punished, and even the people we like might not learn the lesson we want them to. That's life.

All of this, of course, isn't to say that Into the Woods is a bad movie or a bad adaptation. I fully admit that the problems I have with it are quibbles, matters of interpretation. It's a perfectly solid and entertaining film, and I recommend it if you think it sounds like the sort of thing you'd enjoy. But it's not daring. It's not revolutionary. It's not challenging the status quo as much as it should.

And that makes me sad. Because I really really believe in the message of this musical. I firmly believe, and I have a whole series of articles devoted to the idea, that we have got to be careful what stories we tell children, because children are listening. It's why I have so many problems with fairy tales or Disney princess movies or any media that we think we can show to children without properly examining first. Children are always listening, and they will learn from what we do. We can't forget that.

The ending of the film (and the musical) is important, because it shows the Baker telling his son a story, the story of all that's happened already in the film. And the ending moral is that he should be careful what he tells in the story, because his son is listening. I would add that while it's not explicit, it's also important that the Baker tell the story without trying to make it any nicer than it is, and without trying to improve upon or redeem any of the characters. Because it's only by understanding the world as it really and truly is that we can hope to make it a better place.

Which is what we all want, right?

Such deep. Very metaphor.

Think of the Children! Tuesday: Night at the Museum 3

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I feel like I've gotten a bit of a reputation as the kind of person who wouldn't know fun if it punched her in the face, but that's not how I see myself. I think I'm fun. Granted, I don't think I'm the kind of fun you get at amusement parks or children's birthday parties, but I am fun. Really. I'm fun. I can be fun. This is me being fun. Wheeee!

Anyway, my point is, I know that I don't really come across as the sort who'd be good at discussing a children's media series that is literally all about the fun, but I'll have you know that I went to see Night at the Museum 3: Secret of the Tomb not because anyone forced me to go, but because I wanted to. I wanted the fun. So there.

It's just that I then came away a little bit disappointed that the fun wasn't quite as substantial and full of good other stuff as I'd hoped.

I think it's not that I'm not a fun person - the jury's still out on that, probably - but rather than I have high expectations of my fun. I want it to mean something. Something important and bigger than just sheer entertainment. And while I absolutely can't deny that Night at the Museum 3 was fun as all get out, it didn't have that extra layer of emotional complexity that would make it actually, you know, good.

If you're not the sort to have followed the scintillating Night at the Museum series since its onset, here's a basic rundown. Larry Daley is a night security guard who discovers that the museum very literally comes alive at night. As in, due to a magic tablet, the exhibits become quite literally alive. Larry spends the first movie freaking out about this, and then slowly eases into tan acceptance of the weirdness. By the start of the third film, he's all in, and has managed to maneuver himself into being the director of the "Night Program" a "special effects" program that "brings the museum to life".

Larry likes his life, and he's perfectly happy to keep doing this for the rest of his days, but fate, as always intervenes. On the night of a big gala for donors and fundraisers, the museum comes to life, but not like usual. This time everyone is mean and angry and confused and attacking all the guests. Which is very bad for Larry, whose job depends on keeping the museum in line.

It turns out that the tablet that makes the whole museum magically come to life is deteriorating. It's got some kind of rot and it seems awfully likely that if it isn't fixed soon, the magic that makes the museum so special is going to end.

Larry's not about to let that happen, not when his livelihood and also his closest friends depend on this magic. So he packs up the tablet and its owner, Ahkmenrah (Rami Malek), and ships them off to London with himself so that they can ask Ahk's father (Sir Ben Kingsley) how the tablet works. 

Of course everyone else gets themselves shipped out too: Teddy Roosevelt (Robin Williams), Sacajawea (Mizuo Peck), Jedediah and Octavius (Owen Wilson and Steve Coogan), Attila the Hun (Patrick Gallagher), and even the freaking monkey. Oh, also there's a new addition to the museum, a caveman who looks just like Larry and calls himself Laaa. Isn't that just ducky.

So everyone troops off to the British Museum, tricks their way past the guard, Tilly (played by Rebel Wilson in not one of her better roles), and sets off to find the Egyptian exhibit and fix the tablet. Obviously things don't go smoothly. And the rest of the film follows our gang of heroes as they desperately try to get through the museum in one piece while the magic from the tablet slowly wears off. There are heart-wrenching betrayals (not really), touching reunions (eh), and near death experiences galore (they get old).

The bulk of the story is told in their attempts to get through the museum to Ahk's parents, but unfortunately that story is pretty tired and worn. Larry has brought his son along with them for this trip, hoping that the magic of the museum will bring them back together and remind Nick (Skyler Gisondo) of how much he loves being a kid. It doesn't really work out for Larry, as Nick is mostly concerned with growing up and becoming his own man. He is, after all, seventeen, and wants to see the world and sow some oats before he settles down to an expected life.

All of this drama and family tension, then, becomes the backdrop for our sprint against time. Ahk has to deal with his own parental issues, while Larry and Nick try to sort themselves out, and everyone worries that they won't make it. Also Lancelot shows up (Dan Stevens).

So that's the story of the movie. In a nutshell or so. It seems perfectly innocuous and fun and nice, right? Well, yes. It is. I'll be the first to admit that it was very fun to watch. But fun isn't the same thing as good, and I refuse to believe that just because something is fun, it's allowed to be anything less than its best. 

You see, the big issue I have with this film is that it felt like everyone was just phoning it in. There is room in this story, silly as it is, for a real, epic, heart-wrenching series of events. But instead of really going for the emotional reality alongside the fun, we got a scene where a man kisses a monkey. Hmmph.

The heart of the film is supposed to be Nick and Larry's relationship, but I honestly didn't care all that much about them. Nick annoyed me but Larry was clearly in the wrong, so it was hard to really get invested. Meanwhile, Ahkmenrah was preparing to reunite with his parents after several thousand years (I think - it was unclear whether or not they were together in the tomb), and it felt much more like his story should take center stage.

The inclusion of Laaa felt pretty gratuitous to me, as I've never cared for cheap humor like that, and the whole bit with the monkey just grated on my nerves. But most of all what frustrated me was the way that the film denied all of these interesting characters the opportunity to actually feel something, to actually have a stake in their own destinies.

SPOILERS, if you care.

At the end of the film the tablet has finally been fixed, and everyone is brought back to life, thank goodness. But the exhibits decide that the noble thing to do is to leave the tablet, and Ahk in London with his parents, because that's where it's supposed to be. They will all travel back to New York and, essentially, die and Ahk will be reunited with his family.

It's all very touching and heartfelt, and it tells a story about reversing cultural appropriation and giving back artifacts that were stolen, etc. But it's also kind of annoying, because these characters are sentient beings and yet they all decide that the best thing possible for them is to die, and then they proceed to do so in a quiet, orderly fashion. There's no rush of emotion or strong feeling. Just a couple of healthy backslaps and hugs, and then everyone we've come to love in the series so far dies.

What?

It's not the ending itself that I object to, it's the way it was handled, because it feels very much like the rest of this movie. They give up so easily at the end, reminding Larry to let them go, because they're just museum exhibits after all, that it stands as an indictment of all of the rest of the film, which is about Larry desperately racing to fix the tablet so that he can save them. Their deaths are shown as tragic horrors until all of a sudden they're not? That's just annoying.

It bothers me because it feels like the whole movie is telling me to take a chill pill. "It's a kids' movie, just relax," it seems to say. "It's just dumb fun, who cares if it doesn't make sense?" Me! I do! I care! I care a lot.

Because just because something is a kids' movie is no excuse for it not to be good. Just because something is silly and fun gives it no license not to also aim for being interesting and thought-provoking. Let us feel the weight of Ahkmenrah's reunion with his parents. Let us spend some time thinking about how his tomb really was robbed and he might feel violated about that. Or, let's take a minute and think about the emotional realities of all of these characters dying. You told us Sacajawea and Teddy Roosevelt are a thing, well then show us them being sad to lose each other!

Just in general, it felt like this movie was afraid of its own gravitas. It wanted to bring up some hard subjects, but when it came time to actually deal with them, it balked. It backed down, and it decided that it would rather be fun than good. And I refuse to accept that as a choice that must be made.


RECAP: Orphan Black 2x10 - Complete and Unconditional Surrender

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I had a lot of thoughts about the most appropriate way to finish off my year on this blog. Should I do a best of? Should I talk about my favorites and least favorites from the year and ponder the future of media? Or should I just freaking finish recapping season two of Orphan Black once and for all?

In case you couldn't tell, I went with the last one.

Orphan Black is one of my absolute favorite shows to watch, but it's a pain in the butt to recap. Not because there's anything bad in here, but because there's so much good stuff that it takes me absolutely forever to get through it all. That's why it's been so long for me to get to recapping this final episode. Not because I was dreading it, but because I didn't feel like I had enough time to really do it justice. And now I have run out of time, so we're just gonna go with it.

But also, I have to admit, Orphan Black really is emblematic of the year for me. It's a show that's not without its flaws, but that tackles incredibly hard questions about life and consent and who owns your body. It tries. And whether or not the science or patent law is always accurate is much less the point than that this show tries to tell a story about the people who don't have the power, the people who get stomped on, fighting back.

What's more symbolic of this year than that?

When we last watched the show, back in September (ugh), we were on episode nine, and stuff was going down. Donnie and Alison were united in getting rid of Aldous Leekie's body, and discovered that hiding a body was exactly the spark their marriage needed in order to rekindle. 

Sarah made the tough decision to take Kira in to the hospital and allow the DYAD Institute to harvest some of her stem cells in order to create a cure to save Cosima. But of course Rachel took advantage and used it as a distraction to snatch Kira and hide her away in one of DYAD's weird little rooms.

And up in the frozen north, Helen decided she was done being the Proletheans' brood mare and took her bloody revenge on Henrik, while giving Mark and Gracie time to escape. So, you know, nothing much happened.

We come in for the season finale on Sarah being interrogated while doctors poke and prod her and take vials of blood and hair samples. In the flashes back to right after Kira was kidnapped we find Sarah and Mrs. S freaking out at each other while they realize that DYAD has Kira, but Felix has also been poisoned with something. Sarah takes off and decides to give herself up unconditionally to DYAD in order to bargain for Kira's life.

Sarah's interrogation also includes incredibly probing questions about her sexual history and reproductive capabilities, questions that remind us very starkly of the power differential at play here. Sarah's life is laid bare before her captors, because she has nothing else to bargain. It's honestly terrifying.

In another part of the facility, Kira submits sullenly to a DNA test via cotton swab, and takes the opportunity to pinch the doctor's phone. It's unclear who she calls with it, but we know that a man answers - so, Paul or Cal?

And Cosima and Scott rage as their lab materials are systematically taken away. Including, as it seems, Delphine, who Rachel is having transferred to Germany immediately. She is to have no more contact with Cosima or any of the clones, probably on threat of being killed. Delphine barely has time to send Cosima a goodbye text before she's hustled onto the plane.

The goodbye text contains a lot more than platitudes, though. It has a copy of Rachel's itinerary attached to it, and that means that Cosima and Scott know exactly where Rachel is going to be, and where Sarah will be. Plus, they don't have access to Sarah, but they can talk to Kira. A plan is starting to come together.

For Sarah the stakes are finally becoming clear. It's always been unusual that she was the only one of the clones able to reproduce (except, as we now know, Helena), but now it becomes clear that Sarah's reproductive capabilities have been the aim all along. If she wants to see Kira again, she will have to agree to let DYAD harvest her eggs when she next ovulates. And, presumably, if she wants to keep seeing Kira she's going to have to keep letting them harvest from her.

The scene is starkly reminiscent of the stories we hear bout sterilization programs in prisons across the US, where doctors targeted low income women of color and women with mental disabilities for forced sterilization without their consent or even knowledge. 

In other words, this storyline (intentionally, I think) reminds me of all the ways in which reproductive rights have been controlled by those in power, by the elite, and how those choices affect the bodies and personhood of lower income women. Rachel, as a member of the elite, can choose to have Sarah's eggs harvested because she has the power in this scenario. And it's alarmingly true to life.

Incidentally, Sarah does sign the papers.

They take her to see Kira, and it's not quite what Sarah expected. Because when they say "see Kira" what they actually meant was that Sarah was just allowed to see her. No interaction. She watches Kira from behind a two way mirror, and has no ability to contact her. And all the while she has to watch Rachel swan in and play mommy.

Fortunately, right after this really depressing scene, we get to overhear one of the best conversations Mrs. S has ever had. It's quickly cut off when Felix comes into the room, but S definitely says, "If I say you are making a car bomb, you will bloody well make a car bomb." And that's just awesome.

But before Felix can press her for information, there's a knock on the door, and Mrs. S and her gun go out to greet...Cal! Apparently that's who Kira called, which makes sense. We did see a scene where he made her memorize his cell number. He has a picture Kira drew and it seems that he's the only person in this whole show to have put all the pieces together. Without being told, he knows that Sarah and her "sisters" are genetic identicals, and that Sarah is on the run from some shady science group. Except that she's not on the run anymore.

Oh, and just to make things more complicated and interesting, Felix gets a call from Art - seems Helena's back in town. She broke into Art's apartment, and now she's eating all of his food. She demands to see Sarah, and S sends Felix over there to figure out what's going on. Also to make sure that Helena doesn't find out where Sarah is and therefore prevent a bloody streak of vengeance wreaking through downtown Toronto. Cal's face during this entire exchange is priceless.

A quick peek back to the DYAD prison complex, because of course they have one of those, reveals that Sarah wasn't the only one DYAD took prisoner. They've also got Duncan, Rachel's adoptive father and the creator of the clones. He tells Sarah, "Don't despair, my dear," but things look pretty freaking bleak.

At least Helena's always around to cheer me up. Her version of the events of the last three episodes as explained to Felix and Art make very little sense when compared with what we actually saw her do, but it's certainly entertaining to hear. And at the point Art and Felix have a lot of experience reading through the Helena lines - they can tell what's bullsht and what's true. Like, yes, she did burn down the Proletheans' ranch. No, her boyfriend probably didn't have to go to war.

And, yes, she did room with a good girl who suffered a crisis of faith. Which cuts us to Gracie and Mark, on the run and figuring out what to do with themselves now that their whole lives are gone. But at least they're together - all of them, even the baby.

Back at the house, Cal is explaining what he dug up on DYAD. He managed to hack the hell out of them, discovering how far their tentacles run - influencing senators and judges and everyone who could possibly have a hand in changing biogenetic patenting law. But he also found a source. Someone high up at DYAD, with Project Leda, who can feed him real, concrete information. This person knows that Kira and Sarah are in the Institute and they might be able to help.

Interestingly, Mrs. S tells Cal to mention that he's with her, with "Siobhan Sadler" when he replies to the mystery source, and the mystery source responds by telling him to ask S about "Castor". And then she gives Cal a mythology lesson. 

Which we the viewer get to skip in favor of Mrs. S calling in some favors to reach out to someone or other. They look awfully official, what with the humvees and the military uniforms. Plus, a familiar face - Paul! So this is where Paul disappeared off to a couple of episodes ago. 

From the way that Mrs. S and Paul talk, it's clear that she's known his backstory a lot longer than we have, and that she was completely in earnest about wanting to add him to her collection of sources back when they spoke outside Duncan's house. Something is afoot.

At DYAD, Duncan takes a turn in Rachel's creepy room of screens and watches those old home videos of Rachel as a child. Rachel's using those videos to emotionally manipulate Duncan into giving her what she wants: the keys to the ciphers he wrote, encrypting their genetic sequence. He refuses, unless she cures Cosima, and she counters that if he gives her the codes, she'll think about curing Cosima. 

Also she offers him tea, but he declines because he's just British enough to have brought his own bag from home. Such British.

Anyway, Duncan isn't budging, but neither is Rachel. She's utterly determined, and utterly infuriated when Duncan tells her that he thinks giving her the codes would be unethical because he doesn't know what she'd do with them. And, in a way, I can see her point. Here she is being refused her own medical information by a man with no real vested interest in it "for her own good". On the other hand, Rachel is terrifying and I definitely don't want her to know how to make more clones, so right on Duncan.

And he asks her, heartbreakingly, if she can remember how much they loved her. Her response? "The reason I watch these tapes is because I cannot remember. At all." Which is just devastating, for Duncan and for us. I mean, imagine being Rachel. Imagine having yourself so stripped away that you cannot remember the feeling of having been loved. It's terrifying.

Then Duncan drops his teacup and it becomes clear that his special teabag wasn't tea. It was poison. He's killed himself, and he's taking his cipher code with him. Because, as he tells Rachel, "I'm afraid you don't deserve me anymore." Harsh, but probably true.

Back in that parking garage, Mrs. S and Paul discuss the terms of their deal. He'll help get Sarah out, and in return, Mrs. S will hold up her end of the bargain, whatever it is. It doesn't sound pretty. A limo pulls in and out pops Cal. He's made contact with his mysterious source, and they're willing to talk. Paul gets into the car with said source and the camera turns around to reveal it's...Marion Bowles from a few episodes ago. The woman who ordered Aldous Leekie's firing, and the one who outranks Rachel, working for another company possibly. Curiouser and curiouser.

In return for Marion getting Sarah and Kira out of DYAD, Paul hands over a file full of documents on what must be Castor. We don't yet know what that is, but I have suspicions. None of them nice.

Cosima finally gets her time with Kira, and it's heartbreakingly adorable. Kira's not enthused about her new dolls, but she is happy to have a quick little science class with her favorite aunt. Cosima teaches Kira about force and acceleration by having her push pencils through a piece of paper, and it's all very cute, except it's also intercut with scenes of Cosima and Scott making some kind of ad-hoc machine in the lab. I have no doubt this will come up again later.

And as we go back to Cosima in the lab, it becomes clear that she's only gotten worse as time goes on. She's collapsing now, her lungs not holding enough air to help her stay standing. Scott's worries, as he should be. He wants to take over the rest of the project, but Cosima is determined to see it through. It's personal, whatever it is. But she let's Scott take the last part of the mission, which involves a key card and apparently a lot of personal risk.

Sarah is awoken in her cell to a bunch of medical guards and a gurney, so probably not a good thing. I can only imagine that Rachel's not feeling all that stable right now. Who knows what she has planned. 

What she has planned is terrifying. A procedure to surgically remove one of Sarah's ovaries, for medical research. They're leaving one, of course, because they would hate to render Sarah infertile. And, as the doctor tells Sarah in his most slimy voice, they're looking forward to her next pregnancy with great anticipation. Well that's horrifying.

At least Scott is there. He whispers to Sarah that Cosima says hey and they're going to get her out of there. But he doesn't have much time to chat before Rachel swans in and clears the room so that she can talk to her "sister." Rachel shows Sarah a picture that Kira drew for her - a picture that interestingly includes an image of a fire extinguisher for no reason - and then shows her the bone marrow they took from Kira to cure Cosima.

Rachel is sure that even though Duncan is dead, he left a copy of his cipher somewhere, and she's positive that Sarah has it. Sarah, meanwhile, has no idea what Rachel is talking about. So Rachel smashes Kira's bone marrow samples, thus destroying their best chance to cure Cosima out of petty rage. A temper tantrum. Yikes.

Oh, and out of the corner of Sarah's eye she can see a fire extinguisher that has a note on it saying "SQUEEZE". That's not suspicious at all.

As Rachel storms off to leave Sarah to her fate, Sarah calls her back and pretends she's going to give over the codes. Instead, she squeezes the fire extinguisher handle and a pencil flies out, hitting Rachel directly in the eye. As Rachel writhes on the floor in really gross agony, Scott rushes back in and gives Sarah the keycard, telling her to run. So that's what the plan was. Huh. Weird plan.

Sarah races to Kira's room, only to find Marion Bowles already there, bundling Kira up in a jacket and explaining that she was just about to come get her. Sarah and Kira are free to go, and Cal is waiting downstairs with a car. But. If Sarah wants to know what this is really all about, then she'll meet Marion tomorrow and find out the truth. And we all know that's an offer that Sarah really can't refuse.

At last we've come full circle. Felix's apartment is ground zero for the clone homecoming, it seems, with Sarah, Alison, Cosima, and even Helena converging on it to spend some quality time together. Cal tells Sarah that he's here to stay and help, but then he gets kicked out so that the clones, and Felix, can all get to know each other. For real, this time. So Helena has tearful meetings with Cosima and Alison, and everyone's heart melts when she reunites with Kira.

Then Cosima puts on some music, and they dance. All of them, all in their own ways. All together, all dancing to the same song, and man is the metaphor heavy here. But it's also wonderful to see them all together and happy for once. Even if it is probably Cosima's last dance.

We fade into the morning after, with everyone sleeping scattered throughout Felix's loft. Sarah and Cosima are lying quietly in the bed, knowing that they might be having one of their very last conversations. Sarah is sad, but accepting. Cosima tells her that she's strong, she's the wild type, she propagates against all odds. And while Sarah doesn't want to do this without Cosima, she will and she can. They'll be okay, even if they'll miss each other terribly.

While they talk and cry, Helena slips out (after taking some liquid nitrogen out of her backpack, and isn't that terrifying). She pulls out Jesse's hat, Jesse from the bar and the barfight, the guy that Helena's sure she's in love with and very well might be in love with her too. As she fingers it, we understand implicitly that she's going to track him down now.

But she never gets the chance. Two men in normal street clothes pull a bag over her head and hustle Helena out into a waiting van. All that's left is Jesse's hat, abandoned in the hall.

Another limo takes Sarah to meet with Marion Bowles at an extremely large (presumably hers) mansion. And Kira climbs up to the bed so that Auntie Cosima can read her a story. But Cosima doesn't move when she calls her. Not a whisper of motion, not a breath. And then Cosima's eyes flicker open, but she doesn't see Kira. She sees Delphine, telling her not to be afraid. Her eyes open for real, and it's Kira there. Cosima reads her the story. And I guess Cosima's not going to die after all?

Sarah tentatively enters Marion's opulent yet somehow tasteful home, and finds a little girl is waiting inside. Marion walks in and tells the girl, Charlotte, to stop hiding and come say hello. The girl walks closer, slowly due to the large brace on her leg. Sarah is stricken, and Charlotte asks, sweetly, "You're my big sister?"

Because of course they made more clones.

Charlotte is eight, the same age as Kira (which is what made me feel weird about Kira because she doesn't talk like an eight year old at all), and thinks of Kira as her cousin. Technically, Kira is her niece, but semantics. Sarah's just baffled by it all.

Cosima finishes reading the book Kira brought, and so Kira pulls out another one to read. But this one is different. It's a copy of The Island of Dr. Moreau, which I still maintain is a weird thing to read to a child, and it's the copy Duncan gave to Kira right before he left. What do you know. It's got pages and pages full of the cipher Duncan wrote, keys to their genome, and every piece of information Cosima could hope to know. Naturally Duncan gave it to the little girl.

Sarah wants to know if Marion is Charlotte's monitor, but Marion insists she's something else. "I'm her mother." Like Mrs. S, Marion is deeply invested in the health and safety of the clones, because Charlotte was a miracle, the only survivor of the later trials. Marion is counting on Sarah's fierceness to protect her and her daughter, because what she's got next is even more terrifying.

Marion's company is named Topside, and it's not a company so much as a cabal. They steer and guide multi-nationals like DYAD, hoping to shape the future of bioethics and bioengineering. And not just for profit. They firmly believe that there are other groups seeking the same thing, and they really want to make sure they get there first. 

The evidence Marion has for this was confirmed by Mrs. S, and presumably Paul. It's Project Castor. And it's military.

Project Leda wasn't exactly shut down by the military, it was shunted into two separate programs. DYAD got the female clones and carried them to term, while the military kept the male clones and carried them. Marion takes Sarah down to the basement and shows her Project Castor. And, what's stranger, Sarah knows him.

Then we cut to the military leading Helena onto a plane while Paul and Mrs. S watch. Mrs. S knows that Sarah will never forgive her, but this is the deal she struck in order to save Kira. And she will live with that.

We cut again to Mark and Gracie getting married in an empty sanctuary. And then again to a soldier leading Helena in who has Mark's face. And back to Marion's basement where the man in the cage turns around and it's Mark's face again. 

Male clones. Huh. End of season.

I have to say that this episode, the ending at least, gets me really excited about what's to come in the next season and where the story can go from here. We've spent now two seasons dealing with Sarah and the other female clones' issues of bodily autonomy, but for now that's not our main concern. Or rather, that is our main concern, but it's less immediately threatening for most of them. Alison and Donnie can live their safe suburban life in relative peace. Cosima's probably not going to die, and now she has a code to unlocking their genome. Sarah has her daughter back and a generous patron.

Helena is in a terrible spot, it's true, but compared to the end of last season, everyone's doing pretty well, actually. It's time to widen the world a bit, time to examine other issues and topics and time to expand our issues of identity and consent. Bring in the boys, I say! Mark's been a really fascinating character already this season, and I look forward to how his story will develop, especially in light of him now being married to a woman carrying a clone's child.

This whole season has been about ownership - who owns the clone's bodies, and who controls them. Who controls the rights to their medical care, and who controls the rights to their physical bodies and derivatives. So many of the storylines this season have been about consent, that it's really interesting to now shift to a male perspective. We needed to start with the female side of things, but it's important that we now get to transition to seeing things from the male view. 

Because consent and bodily autonomy aren't just women's issues. They're human rights. And it's good to recognize that.

I'm excited and finally ready for the new season and the new year. Bring it on.

Coming Up in 2015 - What We're Pumped For This Year

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Man. It's a fresh new year already, and it's promising to be a doozy in nerd stuff. Every old franchise is new again (Mad Max, Jurassic World, Fast and Furious 7, and so many more), some of my favorite projects are finally seeing the light of day, and there's just a bounty of amazing nerd stuff to look forward to this year.

But what am I in particular pumped for? Well, let me tell you...

1. Agent Carter - January 6th

This should come as no shock to anyone, since I've been hyping this show as long as I've known of its existence, but I'm really very excited for the premiere of Agent Carter next week. The show, which follows a post-war Peggy Carter (Hayley Atwell) as she tries to make her way in her chosen field of intelligence work as the men return from war and millions of women are quietly let go from their jobs, promises to examine sexism in the workplace, the way our foremothers fought for the right to work, and lots of other awesome stuff.

Also it features a subplot where Peggy, a brilliant agent by day, does her own James Bond thing by night, trying to clear Howard Stark's name (Dominic Cooper) after he's accused of treason. She gets to work with the original Jarvis, a lovely British butler, and try to save the world. Good times.

Not only does the show sound really awesome, it also has an impressive pedigree. It's run by a writing team of two women - Tara Butters and Michele Fazekas - and has the honor of being Marvel's first female lead project on the screen. Yes, they're coming out with Captain Marvel in 2018, and, yes, there is that Jessica Jones show starring Krysten Ritter coming up, but this is their first. And it looks great.

2. Spidergwen - February 25th

Spidergwen as a character - as in, a Gwen Stacy who was bitten by a radioactive spider and thus gained superpowers - was introduced in this fall's Edge of the Spiderverse crossover event, but she's quickly become a fan favorite and one of the most popular Spiderverse characters. So popular in fact that she's getting her own solo comic, simply called Spidergwen.

We don't know that many details about the comic yet, aside from the fact that Gwen will remain a spider superhero, will stay the drummer of her punk band, The MaryJanes, and will still have a contentious relationship with her father, Captain Stacy of the NYPD. But other than that we're a little less clear on the specifics of of the comic. And that's okay. Her oneshot back in September was freaking awesome, and I'm excited to see what Robbie Rodriguez and Jason Latour do with her character from here.

And just in general, it's nice to see Gwen Stacy getting some of the spotlight for something other than dying in order to further Peter Parker's emotional journey. Her fridging is still one of the most frustrating events in comics for me, and I hate that it's defined her character for so long. I mean, she's a brilliant scientist, a caring person, and seriously badass! Hell yes give her her own superpowers and comic! Please!

This is just tangentially related, but Cindy Moon, one of the other original characters from the Edge of the Spiderverse crossover will also be getting her own comic, Silk, which means that all three of the spider-powered women will be well-represented this year, and with the redesign of Spiderwoman's costume, there's a strong chance that the spider ladies might become some of the most representative and least sexualized female superhero comics on the shelves. Yay!

3. Orphan Black, Season 3 - April 18th

I'm so pumped for the new season of Orphan Black that I can taste it. Sure, part of that is because I spent a couple hours recapping the season two finale yesterday. But the rest is because I'm so curious about the developments that were teased at the end of the second season and that will be developed in this further season. 

Like, I'm really curious to see how Ari Millen holds up walking in Tatiana Maslany's ridiculous shoes, and I can only assume he'll do a good job, since I can't imagine this show settling for anything less. But I can't wait to see how it goes.

I'm really curious to see what happens with Charlotte and Marion's involvement in the clone family, and I have such a longing to see Gracie and Mark accepted into the fold. Basically I want more clone family. Lots more. I just want all these people protecting each other and fighting together and understanding that they're more powerful together than apart. I have a lot of feelings, you guys.

On a more serious note, though, this is a show that has done an excellent job in discussing issues of women's rights, bodily autonomy, and reproductive rights, in a way that is comprehensive and touching and very aware of power dynamics. I have every hope and confidence that it will continue to focus on the ways that women's bodies are commodified and sold in our culture. But I am really curious to see how they deal with adding a male perspective and I can't wait to see how the season turns out. It's a good freaking show.

4. Avengers: Age of Ultron - May 1st

I'd just be a big fat liar who lies if I didn't admit how excited I am for this movie. Of course I'm excited. Duh. But not just because it looks like another two hours of sheer nerding goodness. I'm very intrigued by the couple of shots we got of ballerinas in the trailer, and I'm hoping this means that in Age of Ultron the MCU will finally really delve into Natasha's backstory. I love her backstory. It's so interesting. Please make it so.

Also with the trailer showing that scene of everyone trying to pick up the hammer except Natasha, I hope that means they're going to include a scene where she does and can pick up the hammer, because that is a thing that happens in the comics and I would love to see Natasha casually pick up the hammer at some point and hand it back to Thor.

There's a little part of me that's holding out hope that this film will explore more of comics canon Hawkeye as well, since, you know, he's deaf in the comics and that's a really big deal to me. I would love it if the movie actually brought that up, since it seems like we're going to go a little deeper on Clint Barton as a character - case in point, apparently he owns a farm? 

Oh, and I'm super pumped to see Maria Hill and Rhodey included in happy Avengers bonding time, and I want more of those characters please.

5. Pitch Perfect 2 - May 15th

Right, so it's a franchise that was apparently so much fun to make that they got all of the stars to agree to do a sequel, even though two of them have become significantly more famous in the past two years - Anna Kendrick and Rebel Wilson, obvi - and it looks hilarious and wonderful and ridiculous. Who isn't excited for Pitch Perfect 2? Like, seriously, who?

And there is something so wonderful and happy about this being a female lead ensemble comedy that was so successful and beloved that there was really no question on whether or not they should make a sequel. That makes me very happy, because I can remember that just a few years ago the media was arguing over whether or not women were even capable of being funny, and here's a sequel to the movie that made them shut the hell up.

They're back, pitches!

6. Gamora - Spring

Gamora might have been a little underplayed in this summer's Guardians of the Galaxy movie, although Zoe Saldana did a great job with what she had to work with, but now she's finally getting her own solo comic! This spring, Nicole Perlman, who wrote Guardians and also has a Black Widow script kicking around somewhere, is writing a Gamora solo comic. The artist has yet to be announced, but I'm pretty stoked. Marvel's strength remains in their comics, for all that the movies are super successful and popular, and I am happy to see them adding Gamora to their collection of awesome leading ladies.

Word to the wise, though - you can't request this at your local comic book shop yet, not even to put it on order. I'll let you know when they release an official date for the first issue, but until then you sadly cannot order it.

7. Terminator: Genisys - July 1st

I'll admit that I really don't know a whole lot about this project, since I have been studiously avoiding any kind of news about it and just praying really hard, but I like the very little I do know. Emilia Clarke, who I love in Game of Thrones, is going to play Sarah Connor, my childhood hero, and Jai Courtney is playing Kyle Reese, my childhood crush. So, you know, I'm a little excited.

Not only is it nice to see another interpretation of the Sarah Connor character (I love both the Linda Hamilton and Lena Heady versions), it's pretty cool to see a movie that's making her the focal point again. To my mind, Terminator 2: Judgment Day is the best of the films precisely because it focuses so closely on Sarah Connor. I trust Clarke as an actress, and so I'm pretty jazzed to see where this ends up.

Oh, and on a completely childish and lame level, I am squeeing so hard inside about the opportunity to see my childhood OTP on the big screen, you have no idea. Time-crossed lovers for the win!

8. Oracle - April

Gail Simone is writing a miniseries about a Pre-52 Oracle and I'm very happy! The decision to erase Barbara Gordon's paralyzation and transition into Oracle and keep her as Batgirl was one of my least favorite parts of the New 52, so I'm super glad to see someone going back and telling us a new Oracle story. That's not to say that Batgirl isn't turning into a really interesting comic these days, now that it's under new management and artistic staff. But there's something to be said for the old classics, and Oracle is one of my faves.

9. Star Wars: The Force Awakens - December 18th

I'm not the world's biggest Star Wars fan, nor am I a JJ Abrams fan really at all, but I am cautiously optimistic about this film, which promises at the very least to include more female characters in one film than the original trilogy did in all three. 

So that's good. I love Gwendoline Christie, and I suspect she's playing a Sith which is awesome. Lupita N'yongo is rad, but I have no idea what role she has. I like the Princess Leia is back and we get more Carrie Fisher goodness, and that girl on the speeder looks awfully intriguing.

So while I'm not ready to start camping out in front of the theater in anticipation for this one, it looks like it has the potential to be really good, and that's something we haven't been able to say about a Star Wars movie in a while.

10. Returning Shows: Hannibal, The Musketeers, Outlander, etc.

Just to name a few, there are a lot of shows coming back this year that I'm pretty pumped for. Hannibal had a freaking revelatory season finale last year, and it looks like this year we're going to be spending some time in Europe while we hunt cannibals, so that all looks amazing. The Musketeers might be having to make do without Cardinal Richeleu for a while (since Peter Capaldi is busy making Doctor Who), but it looks like they'll manage. It's a super fun show and I just want more! 

And while Outlander really disappointed me with the last ten minutes of their midseason finale this fall, seeming to go back on all the amazing progress they made for representation of women in the rest of the show so far, I have a lingering hope that they'll make up for it when the show returns. Please please please be good.

11. New Shows: iZombie, Galavant, Fresh Off the Boat, 12 Monkeys, Netflix's Daredevil, etc.

There are a lot of really awesome new shows coming out, but these are the ones I'm most tempted by. Galavant promises to be ridiculous fun, a raunchy musical miniseries about the middle ages, and it has a princess of color, a stinky anti-hero for the lead, and Weird Al popping up every once in a while. What's not to love?

Meanwhile, iZombie looks like it's going to be just sheer crack. It's about a zombie who hides out as a medical examiner so that she can humanely eat brains, but eating the brains of murder victims means she gets their memories and thus knows who killed them, causing her to become a reluctant detective and murder solver. All I can say is yessssssssss.

Fresh Off the Boat might have a title that's actually a racial insult, and that's kind of a problem, but it looks super duper funny. Based on chef Eddie Huang's actual childhood, the show follows an East-Asian immigrant family who moves to Florida and takes over a steakhouse. It looks so funny, and I hope it can live up to the hype.

I know very little about the new 12 Monkeys adaptation but I want it. That is all. Oh, and Netflix's Daredevil looks, at the very least, much better than the terrible film version. So that's good.

12. The Supernatural Series Finale

Finally, what I really really really want this year is for Supernatural to just end already. Ideally with grace and dignity, but I'll just take it ending at all. Please. Please please please. I know the ending I have mapped out for the show (Dean as King of Hell, Cas as leader of Heaven, Sam locking the doors to both and stranding himself alone on Earth to live the rest of his days in peace), but right now all I want is for the show to freaking end so that I can move on with my life.

...And on that note, happy new year!


Mockingjay Part 1: Are You, Are You Coming to the Tree?

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The Hunger Games seems to be the very rare franchise where each film is exponentially better than the last. The first movie was all right, but didn't fully capture the essence of the horror and fear present in the book. The next movie, Catching Fire, is good and really feels like a full and complete narrative. So I wasn't really expecting this movie to be better, I was expecting it to be about the same. I don't remember thinking the third book was anything special. Imagine my surprise when I saw the third installment and it was not only fantastically good, it was also my favorite so far. That's just...weird.

It's my favorite for a number of reasons. First off, it's by far the best put together of the films. The directing is great, and every shot feels intentionally placed. The writing is solid - I give them a lot of credit for managing to make the film feel whole and complete even though it's actually only half of the original book. And the editing is superb. Seriously, this might be the best edited film I've ever seen, and yes, I'm including all those fancy movies from film school in that. This just had such perfect timing. I want to find the editor and take them out for drinks or something. It's that good.

The acting is, of course, excellent. That's no surprise, as the acting has always been the cornerstone of these movies (like it should be), but it's worth noting that Jennifer Lawrence is really doing Oscar level work here - she plays Katniss with a sensitivity and blunt fear that makes her amazing to watch. Her Katniss is a brutalized soldier with PTSD struggling to cope in a strange situation and terrified of any new change, and it's horrible and hard to watch. Which is a good thing. Also Josh Hutcherson makes good use of what little screentime he gets, and even Jena Malone, who gets about one shot, is still weirdly mesmerizing.

On the whole, this movie works on a technical level in a way not present in the previous two films. I'm not quite sure why that is, since the first two really should have been easier logistically. They were each interpretations of complete works. But I think that by splitting the narrative into two parts for this final book, the writers gave themselves room to move. 

It's easy to dismiss that as a crass business decision - after all, you can make a lot more money off two movies than one - but I think in this rare case it's worked out for the best. The division allows the story time to grow and keeps this movie from being a big action movie jam-packed with set pieces and explosions and frenetic running.

Instead, what we got was a surprisingly contemplative movie about the nature of war and identity. I'm not saying that the movie is quiet - it really isn't - but rather that there are a lot of moments of quiet in between the noise, where Katniss is forced to sit back and reckon with what has been done to her. And those are the best moments.

The narrative of this film follows the first half of Mockingjay, the book. It starts with Katniss (Lawrence) in District 13, learning how to live again and deeply mourning the loss of Peeta (Hutcherson). When she was rescued in the arena, they left him behind and she has no idea what happened to him. Gale (Liam Hemsworth) and Prim (Willow Shields) try to help Katniss cope, but neither of them can relate or even really understand what Katniss is going through. The only one who might be able to - Haymitch (Woody Harrelson) - is gone, drying out in some facility. All she has is her family, and Plutarch Heavensbee (Phillip Seymour Hoffman), the gamemaker who got her out.

Plutarch and President Coin (Julianne Moore) didn't rescue Katniss for nothing. They have plans for her. Specifically, they want to use her visibility and penchant for symbolism to make her into the poster girl of the rebellion. Everyone is primed to accept her as The Mockingjay, the symbol of revolt against the Capitol. Everyone, except Katniss herself, who has no interest in doing this. She's tired. She wants to be done. And she wants Peeta.

But then the Capitol broadcasts an interview with Peeta where he begs for peace and openly mourns Katniss, and she can't keep quiet. Even more, they take her to the remains of District 12, and she decides she can't keep silent. She will be their Mockingjay, if they agree to pardon Peeta and the other Victors when they're rescued. Coin agrees to her terms, reluctantly, and Katniss becomes a symbol.

Of course, it's not as easy as that. Plutarch and Coin want Katniss to just stand in front of a greenscreen and give a rallying speech, but Katniss has never been much of an actor. In fact, the only reason people really liked Katniss the first time around was because Peeta made her super sympathetic. Or, as Haymitch points out, people like her for something she did that was unscripted. Like volunteering for Prim or mourning Rue. Katniss is at her best when no one is telling her how to live her life.

Plutarch and Coin figure they can use that, and decide to let Katniss just be herself. Within very strict and controlled parameters. So she can fly out to the stricken districts and visit the wounded, but she'll be kept on a short leash and filmed the whole time. This turns out better than anticipated when an ordinary visit to a District 8 hospital turns into a combat situation where Katniss shoots down a plane with an exploding arrow, delivers an off the cuff stirring speech, and bonds with a hospital full of desperate people.

Katniss the poster child is born.

The rest of the film cuts between Katniss the symbol of the rebellion and Katniss the exhausted PTSD patient. Either she's full of righteous fury and being filmed as she does something heroic or symbolic, or she's curled up in a ball in the tunnels, trying to forget she's alive. Her only moments to just be Katniss, human being, come when she's focused on someone else, like caring for Prim or comforting Gale. And even then, it's clear she's barely holding the strings together. 

It's clear that this dichotomy is very intentional in the film. Katniss doesn't have the luxury of being herself, because she has no time in which to just exist. She's always on call to make more propoganda videos, and as much as the filmmakers like her (especially Cressida, played by Natalie Dormer, who is really interesting), she's still a subject of study. Even her unguarded moments, like her choice to sing an old (deeply creepy) song in District 12 become the fodder for more videos. Katniss' life is not her own. Her likeness and voice are not her own. She is all image, and she is owned.

I think that's why I like this movie so much. Because while this is a theme in the other films, the idea that Katniss has been remade into something more lovable by people who want to market her, in those movies she's being changed by the bad guys. The bad guys are the ones trying to make her something she's not.

In this movie, though, it's the ostensible good guys who are choosing to step all over Katniss' identity and existence. They're doing it for a good cause, I guess, but they're still subjecting Katniss to a dehumanizing process. After all, it's dehumanizing to debase someone and treat them like an animal. But it's also dehumanizing to strip them of humanity and treat them like an idol instead.

It doesn't help that this movie makes it clear revolution isn't nearly as sexy as it sounds. While the previous two movies build us up to a fervor, demanding war and action and a fight, this film buries us in images of horrific injuries, brutal decisions, and agonizing terror. War is not fun. It's bloody and messy and horrible. We're not allowed to forget that here. It's like the film is saying, "You wanted a revolution? Here you go. I hope it's what you were prepared for."

Since this is very much the message of the book, I felt quite happy with the interpretation here. That war is horrible no matter what side you're on, and that violence might be necessary, but it is never good. Scenes of the people rising up against their oppressors are always a little jarring. We've been conditioned to cheer at scenes like that in other movies, but here the image always shifts a little too quickly to Katniss' haunted face, and we're reminded that there can be no happy ending when violent means are used to effect change.

Perhaps that's why I, as a pacifist, like this movie so much. It's so unequivocally against war, while still making it clear that something needs to change. It doesn't try to moralize or give solutions, it just sort of shoves the whole mess in your face, as if to say, "Here. This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

Like I said above, though, there are more reasons I like this film than just the technical proficiency it displays. I love these themes, and I love that the movie makes it a priority to really unsettle its audience. Perhaps the most jarring moment in the film is when we see the full version of one of the propaganda videos Katniss has been filming. 

It's good, clearly well done, but at the very end a giant title pops up on screen: Join the Rebellion! And it's done in the exact same font and style as the posters that advertise this movie. Like, literally. The marketing poster that we've been seeing everywhere? It's the propaganda poster of Katniss as the Mockinjay that District 13 is using to drum up support.

In other words, the film draws a clear correlation between Katniss as heroine of this movie and Katniss as a symbol of the revolution. It refuses to deny her complexity, and in so doing makes the audience pretty freaking uncomfortable. That's a good thing.

I also want to commend the film for its handling of a potential love triangle. While the Gale-Katniss-Peeta triad is talked about a lot in the media and promotion of the film, it's really not a big part of the story. We've been clear since the second movie who Katniss would choose. It's not that Gale's not nice and all, and he's clearly in love with Katniss, but he just doesn't get it. Katniss and Peeta are bound by love and shared experience. There is no one else in the world who can understand what they in particular have been through. There is no choice. And the movie really represents that. There's never a question given, and I appreciate that.

I have more to say on all of these things, but I guess I'll have to leave that for another article. It's a good sign that there are so many facets to this movie. It's not a dumb action movie at all, nor is it worth the denigration these movies sometimes face, where people complain about how shallow and stupid and "teenage girl" they all are. Shut up. This is a great movie and you know it.

I suppose I'll leave with this: the film is a meta-examination of how we understand narratives and how we process tragedy. Katniss is shown going through a very public mourning process, while she and her image are also used to promote a war she doesn't actually really want. More than that, we're shown how the people of Panem see these images and react. If the movie is about anything, I'd say it's about this. 

About how we consume and process the media and the narrative we're given. And how maybe we should do a little more process and digging and thinking for ourselves. Because if we want to live in a world that really is free, we need to learn how to live without propaganda, without spin, without "prep teams." We need to learn how to accept the narrative that is already there, without creating one of our own.

Also the ending is brutal and great.



There's Something About Tauriel (The Hobbit: BOTFA)

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Okay. So, like I mentioned in a comment last week (which clearly you all should have read, because you are devoted, obsessive nuts like that), I have now actually seen the final Hobbit movie. While I was incredibly reluctant to bite the bullet and go see the film, I did end up going to see it on Christmas, as per family tradition, and I have to admit that it wasn't that bad. I mean, it wasn't exactly blowing my socks off either, but it was reasonably good.

Reasonably.

The plot follows, as predicted, pretty much the last chapter and a half of The Hobbit, further highlighting both what a concise writer JRR Tolkien could be when he wanted to, and also how bloated and inflated these films are. I mean, it's a two and a half hour movie based on about forty pages of material. So yeah, there's some stretching going on.

But by and large it all works. The film opens exactly where the last closed, with Smaug wreaking firey doom on Laketown and the dwarves watching in horror. We are treated to an intense action sequence of the destruction of Laketown, in which Tauriel and Bard are both way more badass than anyone could have ever hoped. Bard and his son outdo William Tell and shoot down the dragon in the world's most alarming trust exercise and Laketown is saved. Except for the part where it isn't, because dragon. It's already mostly on fire and half sunk.

Naturally this means that all of the people from Laketown must swim to shore and find themselves shivering on the steps of Dale, the old city of men outside Erebor's gates. And that seems like a perfectly good solution - they lost a town and gained a city - just as long as Thorin honors his promise to give them a share of the gold and helps them rebuild their society.

Which is of course not going to happen because gooooooooooold.

Thorin spends the first half of the movie or so going completely gold nuts, or coming down with what Balin calls "dragon sickness". He refuses to give Bard what was promised, which just adds insult to the injury he inflicted when he sicced a freaking dragon on them. The men of Laketown/Dale are not happy. They are unhappy enough to decide to team up with the Mirkwood elves that pop up, also wanting their share of the treasure.

Because, remember? Thranduil wants certain gems that were mined at Erebor because they were already bought by his house but Thorin's grandfather refused to hand them over. So Thranduil inserts himself into the mess, bringing the humans of Laketown some much needed food and getting on Bard's good side right quick.

And, of course, there are a whole mess of orcs and goblins bearing down on Erebor, also ready to reclaim its treasure and to wipe out the dwarves once and for all. Most of the film just bounces up between these different armies, gearing up for the fight of their lives. At first Bard and Thranduil are set to send their forces to attack Erebor itself, but when they learn of the orc army coming to attack, they turn and face it, alongside Thorin's backup, a contingent of dwarves from the Blue Mountains.

Oh, and somewhere in here there's also a hobbit, right? Bilbo's story sadly gets very short shrift in this film, with the hobbit himself barely appearing on screen for more than a fifth of its runtime. If that. Still, Bilbo plays a marginally important role as the only voice that can talk some sanity into Thorin. Thorin is amazed by Bilbo's simple hobbit-y-ness and marvels at him. But when Bilbo steals the Arkenstone and gives it to Bard and Thranduil so that they can bargain with it, he kind of freaks out a little.

It's not until Thorin has a nigh on spiritual experience in the throne room - either that or a hallucinogenic one - that he comes to his senses and decides that he and his dwarves really do have to leave and fight all those evil orcs instead of hiding and making others fight their battles.

While all of this is happening too there's that pesky subplot about Sauron coming back from the not quite dead, Saruman maybe possibly going evil, Galadriel and Gandalf almost dying, and lots of other stuff like that. The problem with those storylines isn't that they exist, mind, it's just that they are so clearly so much more important than our main plotline that no amount of speeches from Gandalf about how crucial Erebor is can convince me that the main plot isn't wasting my time. The big stuff is happening elsewhere! Come on, guys! Stop wasting time!

And speaking of wasting time, we come to my biggest joy in this movie and also my greatest despair: Tauriel's storyline.

As I established in my review of The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug, I am not a Tauriel hater. In fact I freaking love her. She's great. She's a character who single-handedly addresses the really annoying gender disparity in Tolkien's work while also pointing out the inherent classism - after all, except for Sam, all of the members of the Fellowship are of royal or noble houses. Tauriel is a lower class female elf. And she's also a badass. It's great.

The problem I have with her storyline isn't so much that it's defined primarily by a romantic relationship, because her thing with Kili is both adorable and relevant to the plot, but because the film keeps trying to shove her into a love triangle that is just so unconvincing. While her chemistry with Kili is real and touching, her interactions with Legolas make you feel like both actors very much had to poop while filming the scene and wanted to get it done as soon as possible.

Which is, for the record, not an indictment of Orlando Bloom or Evangeline Lilly's acting skills. They're both fantastic actors who were both deeply opposed to the studio pressure to turn their story into a romantic one. So I'm thinking there might be some Stewart and Pattinson level sabotage going on. Or the writing is just that clunky. Either one.

What makes all of this more frustrating though is the way that Legolas and Tauriel's "love story" is so integral to the plot of the film. Tauriel follows the dwarves to Laketown in order to deal with the orc threat in the previous film, if you recall, but then Legolas follows her because he loves her. And while she's clearly into Kili, enough to heal him and save him and obsess over him, Legolas persistently ignores all of that. After the destruction of Laketown he either intentionally or obliviously steps all over their moment so that he can grab Tauriel and drag her off on a reconnaissance mission.

Here's the thing: Tauriel's love story with Kili is plenty tragic without adding in a spurned lover. They're separated by a lot of things already: being born into societies that hate each other, being from opposed races, being of radically different social classes, having completely different lifespans, etc. You don't have to add the love triangle thing in too. It's gratuitous.

Aside from the love triangle, though, I really do appreciate Tauriel in this movie. I'm pretty sure she gets more screentime than Bilbo himself, but I don't resent that. She's a great character. Capable, resourceful, incredibly badass, and so earnestly good. She's one of the few purely heroic characters in this story, and it's wonderful seeing her come into her own and kick some major ass. Also, it's thanks to her character that the film passes the Bechdel Test (albeit by a slim margin).

In other words, Tauriel is the female character I always wanted from a Tolkien story, and I really don't care that she's not "authentic". She's defined primarily by her actions, instead of being defined by who her father is and who she's going to marry like most of them are. She's an action star, but doesn't make that a reason why she would have to forfeit her femininity. And she refuses to let anyone dictate how she feels and who she feels it for. She will even defy her king in the name of love.

The sheer wonderfulness that is her character is a big part of why I am so annoyed that Peter Jackson and company didn't do more with her. I mean, you could argue that they already did too much, since she is one of the biggest parts of the story and she's an invented character, but I think we could have gone further. No, don't have Tauriel save Kili, because he does canonically die, and therefore end the line of Durin, but at least don't make her a damsel while you're doing it. There are lots of ways to tragically kill Kili without having to make Tauriel suddenly powerless and helpless.

Or, while you're establishing that Tauriel is an amazing tracker and having her get intel that the armies desperately need, you could have given her her own freaking horse instead of having her share with Legolas. Just a little change like that would have made all the difference in her story.

Heck, why not have Tauriel able to pull off the same sort of ridiculous elf-stunts that Legolas is famous for? He gets an entire scene where he climbs up a series of rocks in freefall in order to get back onto solid ground and kill an ogre. Why not have Tauriel do that? Anything would be better than having her knocked prettily unconscious and being out for the rest of the fight.

It's funny, because my problems with Tauriel's story are really the opposite of my problems with the rest of the film. I wanted this film to be a bit less - and probably to have been combined with the other two films in order to smoosh down to two reasonably lengthed films and cut out all the filler - but I want Tauriel's story to be much more. I want there to be more time spent focusing on Bilbo, but I also want more of Tauriel in the main role. I want the film to steer away from super cliched plot devices and storytelling ideas, but I also really wanted Tauriel and Kili to die in each other's arms.*

If you combine all of them, though, I think what I'm really saying is that I wanted this movie and this whole series to take me seriously as a consumer. Not to pander to what they think I like - gigantic battle scenes and outrageous special effects with some bonus comedy cross-dressing - but what actually makes the story more heart-wrenching and emotionally relevant. Bringing it back down to what matters most: the relationships.

In this movie, the relationships we care about are the only reason to watch. We watch this to see how Thorin and Bilbo will end, to see what happens to Tauriel and Kili, to see what becomes of Bard and his family. We're in this for the relationships, for the feelings, and that's not a bad thing. I just wish that Peter Jackson understood that the feelings are a lot more important than the quality of the effects.

Maybe then we could have gotten the movies and the Tauriel story that we deserve.

Also Bard is good. He can stay.
*No, but seriously, how else are you going to explain why Legolas never mentions the apparent love of his freaking life once in Lord of the Rings? Either make her not a love interest, which would be ideal, or let her die with the dwarf she actually loved. Or both. Both is good. I'm a sucker for a sad ending.

Avatar: The Last Airbender Asks "How Dark Can A Kid's Show Get?"

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Well readers, this is it. As of this posting (and a couple of days ago, actually, but who's counting) I have officially become one of those people to have actually seen all of Avatar: The Last Airbender. Yes, it was amazing, and yes, I also am surprised that it took me this long. I mean, I completely understand why, since it's me and my motives are not obscure to myself, but you get the point. It's a very good show and totally up my alley, and if it weren't for a number of extenuating circumstances I totally would have watched it before now.

I just...didn't. Until now. Until my roommates borrowed a full set of DVDs and basically sat on me until we finished the series.

There's a lot of stuff in here that I knew about going in. I mean, I knew the basic plot from the get-go. It's all explained in the thirty second intro at the beginning of each episode: "Water... Earth... Fire... Air. Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony. Then everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked. Only the Avatar, master of all four elements, could stop them. But when the world needed him most, he vanished. A hundred years passed and my brother and I discovered the new Avatar, an airbender named Aang. And although his airbending skills are great, he still has a lot to learn before he's ready to save anyone. But I believe Aang can save the world." 

I wish I could say that I wrote that whole thing from memory, but I actually just copied it from the wiki. Anyway. That sums up the premise for the show. There's this world with four different cultures and forms of superpowers. They are led, at least nominally, by the one person in all the world who can control all four elements and has pretty much all of the superpowers. This person is reborn into each generation and can take basically any form.

Everything's all hunky dory until one day the leader of the Fire Nation goes bonkers and decides that the world would be better if everyone were Fire Nation instead of having all of these silly "differences" and "cultures". So he leads the Fire Nation on a bloody rampage, kills the current Avatar (main superhero person) and waits to find out who the next Avatar will be so he can kill them too.

Unfortunately for the Fire Lord and fortunately for literally everyone else, the new Avatar is an impetuous and ridiculous little boy. Faced with the stress and responsibilities of becoming the next Avatar, Aang, said little boy, sprinted away from his responsibilities and got himself frozen in ice for a hundred years. He saved his own life, sure, but his absence meant that the Fire Nation essentially destroyed the rest of the planet looking for him.

This is all backstory, by the way. The main story of the show picks up a hundred years later when Katara (the one giving all that nice starting narration) and her brother Sokka find Aang frozen in the ice. They decide to help him on his quest - to defeat the current Fire Lord in the next year and in so doing save the world - and stick by him on an epic journey. There are other friends and foes along the way, of course. Zuko, the banished Fire Nation prince who wails about his honor a lot, and Toph, the terrifyingly powerful earthbender in the body of a blind little girl, are personal favorites. But the whole thing is basically a buddy quest movie. Watch all the friends save the world with the power of friendship and love! Yay!

And that's not an inaccurate characterization of the show, either. Like, it literally is a show about a group of friends saving the world with the power of friendship and love. It's just also, and how do I put this nicely? So freaking dark.

I mean, obviously this wasn't going to be a super light happy show, since the actual title refers to a mass genocide committed before the series even takes place*, but I was honestly shocked by how dark it could and did get. Yes, tumblr spoiled me on a lot of stuff, but the really deep stuff I had no idea about going in, and personally, I think that's great.

SPOILERS for a show that's been off the air since I was in college.

The first few seasons of the show deal with some pretty intense stuff, but it's not until the third season or so that the show goes full sale dark. While we'd already been introduced to the concepts of just war theory, ends justify the means political strategy, and dehumanization of the enemy, what makes the third season super dark is that we start to see this sort of thinking turn up in the good guys.

The central crux of the third season is the dawning realization that Aang must stop the Fire Lord before he gains extra power and uses it to exterminate all other races than his, and that the only way Aang can see to do this is to kill the Fire Lord. Aang, a pacifist, is naturally against this. I mean, he's a vegetarian for crying out loud! But there honestly doesn't seem to be any other option. It's either killing the Fire Lord, something even his son thinks is necessary, or allowing the Fire Lord to commit mass genocide.

If this concept as the season arc doesn't shock you, then I think you've not properly thought it through. Remember, this is a children's show. Our hero, the adorable pacifist being told he must murder a man to save the world, is twelve. He's the twelve year old survivor of a murdered race being told he must take bloody vengeance on a man that everyone knows is mentally unstable for the greater good.

And while this cheery plotline is carrying on, we're also treated to storylines about a waterbender so strong she can actually call the water in a person's body and use people like puppets. Or a plot where a teenage girl tracks down her mother's killer, or another plot where the kids deal with systematic brainwashing and secret police, or another one where they tackle ingrained institutionalized racism, or one about euthanasia... It's not an isolated incident, is what I'm getting at. While the series finale has some of the darkest episodes, it's by no means an aberration. It's a dark freaking show.

But it is a show for kids. Demographically the show is aimed at children ages six to eleven and aired on Nickelodeon. It is unequivocally children's programming, even if it is incredibly popular with adults all over the world. It was made for and about kids and I find that very interesting and honestly, very good.

I know that last bit is a little weird, but bear with me. Rather than finding all of this darkness and intensity off-putting in a children's show, I actually find it really encouraging. I think it's great. Not because I'm somehow dead inside and I want everyone else to be as dead as I am - though that might very well be true - but because I think it is incredibly valuable for children to be able to see on screen characters like them making really hard decisions and then living with them.

Think about it. If all we ever show kids is "appropriate" media, where the stakes are low and the hardest decisions involve a character figuring out what they'll have for lunch, then our kids aren't going to have a good visual for what it means to make a really tough decision. Sure, ideally they're going to learn that from us, from the people around them, but what about the kids who don't? What about the kids whose parents don't share that kind of information, or who don't have parents, or who need another role model for whatever reason? It matters because in this little, silly show, we see children wrestling with the hardest questions that human beings can face and it's not easy. It's dark, hard, and true.

I love that because it's so honest. Making a tough decision, especially a tough moral decision, is really hard. It's hard even when you have lots of experience and are comfortable with yourself and your beliefs. But it's super hard when you don't know how to deal with the emotional fallout or the possibility that you could be wrong. Aang's choices, and the stories of all the rest of the gang, help kids see how to make a really intense choice, and then how to deal with the fallout.

Ideally, none of our kids are going to grow up to have to make the choice on whether or not kill a crazed warlord, but that doesn't mean that the darkness in this show is over the top or unnecessary. It's not. The problems Aang faces are different than the problems we face, but knowing how he made his choice and knowing how to reason through our own is a vital skill, no matter the scale of our lives.

And sure, I was pretty genuinely freaked out after some of these episodes - particularly the bloodbending one, because that was horrifying - but that's okay too. It's all right to be scared sometimes, and it's all right to expose children to media that might frighten or alarm them. Why?

Because they're going to be frightened and startled by lots of things in their lives, and if you shelter them too much, they're probably not going to know how to deal with it later.

I'm not saying that small children should be watching Saw or something, but I am saying that part of raising children to be good citizens and functional people means making them aware that things aren't always as easy as they have (ideally) had it. Exposing them to the darkness in the world and showing them how to fight it. It's not fun, but it's like getting a vaccine. Give them a touch of darkness now and teach them how to combat it later in life.

I'll probably have more thoughts on Avatar: The Last Airbender as time goes on, but this was the first one that popped into my head: Damn, this is dark for a kids' show. Followed immediately by another thought: Thank goodness it is.

This is not to say it's all doom and gloom. There's some very good comedy in there too. Somewhere.
*Aang, our hero, is the last airbender because the Fire Lord killed literally all of the rest of them looking for him. Eeugh.

Agent Carter Comes Out of the Gate Superhero Strong

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I'm going to give you three guesses as to what I spent last night doing, and the first two don't count. Or, for those of you who aren't obsessively tracking my interests, last night was the series premiere of my new favorite show, Agent Carter. It was very good. I liked it. You should watch it.

And if that's all you're here to find out, then I recommend you get right on that. The show is exactly as awesome and wonderful and satisfying as we all dreamed it would be, and both of the episodes that premiered last night were tight, action-packed, and the kind of dramatic that means that I looked up at what I thought was halfway through the episode only to find that we had five minutes left. It's that engrossing and exciting - you don't notice the time pass.

It's an auspicious start for what might be the most-watched of the Marvel properties so far. The films, after all, kicked off with Iron Man, which was an instant success, but would not have destroyed the genre if it failed. The following films were all good and fun and exciting, but not the kind of surprising or subversive that would have dramatic implications for the whole superhero movie phenomenon if they bombed. Except maybe Avengers. But yeah, if one of those movies about a white, male, jacked superhero didn't do well, they'd just make another one. Like with Hulk. Or Green Lantern. Or Superman Returns.

Agent Carter, however, has the distinction of being Marvel's first female-lead property to hit either the big or little screen. And as such it has a lot of expectations riding on its shoulders. Were Agent Carter to take some time to warm up, like Agents of SHIELD did, or not stick the landing, like Captain America: TFA didn't, it would be seen as a sign that superhero properties with female leads aren't going to work. Unfair, yes. But true.

Fortunately for literally everyone, the show is awesome. Amazing. Perfect? Maybe. But at least definitely good enough to make the naysayers shut up and to show once and for all that people will turn out for a well-written, well-acted, compelling story about a female superhero. Because let's be real, Peggy is a superhero, and it's great.

The show starts out by retconning the fifteen minute short that got this whole ball rolling*. Peggy Carter (Hayley Atwell) has survived losing the love of her life, Steve Rogers (Chris Evans), and coming home from the war in one piece, but now that the war is done she's floundering. She's still working at the Strategic Science Reserve, but the men in the office treat her as a glorified secretary, a woman who got her position because she was sleeping with Captain America. 

Peggy's obviously not thrilled about this, but doesn't really see any other options. It mirrors very interestingly her scene with Steven in Captain America: TFA when he claims that he can be a lab rat or a dancing monkey, and she asks him if those are his only two options. As far as Peggy can see, she can be a glorified secretary or she can pack it in and give up. Those are her only two options until, suddenly, they aren't.

See, Howard Stark (Dominic Cooper) is in a bit of hot water at the moment. While he was busy womanizing in Monaco, someone broke into his safe and stole all of the ideas and inventions that he thought were too hot to sell or give to the US government. So that's not good. The press is crying for blood and the government is prosecuting Stark as a traitor. Since he's definitely not - a scoundrel, sure, but not a traitor - Stark enlists Peggy's help to clear his name and recover his inventions. He can't help, because he's busy being on the run, but she'll have access to his estate and to the help of his butler, the original Jarvis (James D'Arcy).

She's quick to get on the case, partly to clear his name and partly because she's so bored at work, but problems quickly arise. It's one thing to figure out who has Howard's inventions, it's quite another to get them and dispose of them while her coworkers are just down the hall following up the same lead. I mean, yeah, Peggy's way better at this than all of them put together, but they're not terrible detectives. The do manage to keep up at least a little.

And for all that Peggy has an ally in the office, in the form of wounded veteran and general wonderful person Daniel Sousa (Enver Gokaj) she can't find it in herself to confide in him. He wouldn't understand, and he might get hurt.

It seems that Peggy's arc here too mirrors Steve's arc in Captain America: TWS. She's bored and lonely and she desperately misses him. She's afraid to get close to people because the people she loves inevitably get hurt, and it causes a delightful bit of tension when she pushes Jarvis away for his own safety, only for him to come back and be stolidly there for her through it all.

So the storyline of the show looks like it's going to be twofold. On the more bright and flashy side, it's going to be more episodes of Peggy tracking down Stark's wayward inventions, and that should be super fun. But on the more sedate and meaningful end, I predict that the show will follow closely Peggy's grieving process. She's not the type to break down in sobs over losing Steve, but she is clearly upset. Hurt. Sad. She pulls out his file sometimes and looks at the picture of him before the serum because she just plain misses him. So her arc this season is going to be about grief, and about learning to live again.

Part of that seems like it's going to come from her budding friendship with waitress and aspiring actress Angie Martinelli (Lyndsy Fonseca). Angie is younger than Peggy, less experienced, and yet she has this spark of life that Peggy so desperately needs. By the end of the second episode (they aired two last night), Peggy was moving in down the hall from Angie, and I am all for this development. Peggy needs friends, she needs people nagging her to get out and get on with her life, and Angie is just the ticket.

Also she is played by Fonseca, who most notably played superspy Alex on Nikita. So I have a small amount of hope that Angie's going to get to kick some butt in the show. Not that she has to, but I feel like it would be fun.

So yes. An auspicious start. And a big part of that comes from the fact that the writers aren't trying to force an origin story down our throats. In your average show like this, the first few episodes would be devoted to understanding how and why our hero is being a hero. That's what Flash and Arrow did. But with Peggy Carter we don't actually need to do that. We have an entire movie's worth of evidence on how amazing and capable Peggy is, as well as some historical context from the next movie that tells us that she went on to found SHIELD and live to be in her nineties. We don't need an origin story, we just want an adventure.

And that's precisely what they give us. After reminding us of who Agent Carter actually is, the show transitions right quick into showing how utterly wasted she is in the SSR. How much her skills are not being used and how truly infuriating that is. It's sometimes hard to remember, but the show refuses to let you forget how far we've come as a culture since the 1940s. 

Peggy's roommate talks about girls from her factory being fired to make way for less trained GIs coming home from the war just because "the boys deserve the jobs more". Peggy has to deal with taking orders and condescension from men who don't even have clearance levels high enough to know what she did in the war. It sucks. But it's true.

It's true and I really appreciate it being included in the show. As fun as historical revisionism is, it's also really nice to get a show like this, with an amazing kickass female protagonist who's superheroing it up on the streets at night, who faces really accurate historical discrimination. It's satisfying because we know that Peggy's detractors are wrong. It's a whole show about how wrong they are. We know they're wrong, but we're reminded of the fact that these are the people who had the power then. And in a lot of ways they're the people who have the power now. It's a stark reminder.

And Peggy herself is never allowed to forget how other people see her and her role in the war. The second episode includes a running gag where Peggy is forced to listen to a radio serial about Captain America and his love interest "Betty Carver". She's clearly based on Peggy, but "Betty" isn't a superspy and secret agent, she's the Howling Commando's triage nurse and personal housekeeper. She even has a line at one point about how nothing is more fulfilling than mending Captain America's pants.

While the radio parts are hilarious, they just heighten our awareness of the sexism of the time. But here's the brilliant thing! Peggy rails against everyone's misconceptions of her at the beginning of the show, but as she gets drawn more and more into clandestine, "after hours" work, she starts to embrace it. Better to be underestimated than caught. So she pleads off work with "women's problems" and flutters her eyes while she asks for an afternoon off and pours coffee for the men so that she can spy on their meeting. Peggy's not happy about being considered a second class citizen because of her sex, but she's also not above taking advantage of it.

Which I feel like is the strongest statement that the show could actually make. Peggy's not ashamed of being a woman, nor is she unhappy with her appearance or gender. The problem is not Peggy, it's the world around her that refuses to take her seriously because she's pretty. And while she hates that, she's also the sort of incredibly practical person to take full advantage of it. I like that. I like that a lot.

There are lots of other things I could mention about the show, which really did come out of the gate strong, but I think I'll leave it there. It's a good freaking show, an excellent start, and I can't help being hopeful that this spells good things for female representation at Marvel. 


*You can still watch Agent Carter, which appeared on the Iron Man 3 DVD, and it is still totally worth watching. Just not official canon anymore. It's like an abridged version of what's going to happen in the series. And very entertaining.

The Commodification of Katniss and the Hanging Tree

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It's one of those unavoidable facts of my life that I end up having to drive a lot every week. Not because I'm a delivery driver or I have a giant commute or anything, just that between getting to work every morning, dropping the kids off at their various schools, picking them up, driving home, doing errands, going to church and meetings and coffee dates and school plays and all that other stuff, I spend an inordinate amount of time in my car. And most of the time when I'm in the car, I'm listening to the radio.

Not all of the time, of course. Sometimes I listen to Welcome to Night Vale or The Thrilling Adventure Hour podcasts, or I get my fill of news with NPR, or I listen to a Tim Keller sermon because he's fantastic and very funny. But by and large, most of the time when I'm driving, I'm listening to plain old Top 40 radio.

I'm not ashamed to say that I like pop music. I don't know enough about it to be more than vaguely critical, and it's usually very catchy. But. The other day, as I was driving home from my sister's house, I heard something that made me want to pull the car over and just stare up at the sky wondering what the world is coming to. And that...was this:



If you're at work and you can't listen, that is, for the record, "Are You Coming to the Tree" performed by Jennifer Lawrence and direct off the Mockingjay Part 1 soundtrack. Except it wasn't this version of the song. I like this version. I mean, it's a little weird to hear a song like this on the radio, but whatever. It's cool. 

No, the version that I heard, and I still don't know if it was an official version or what, but it was a techno remix of this song. It was the exact same song, still Jennifer Lawrence as Katniss singing mournfully about a man and his lover being convicted of murder and dying, which then transforms into a chorus of rebels singing about injustice, only it had a club beat and you could dance to it. And I was very very nauseous.

But at the same time I kind of respected the genius of it all. I mean, yeah, actually, this is a song from the soundtrack of a major motion picture. Katniss is a fictional character, this is a movie that has made hundreds of millions of dollars, and if the studio wants to release a remix of the song that's proven inordinately popular, it has every right to do so. So why do I feel so weird about it?

Part of my objection did (and still does) stem from the way that turning this amazing, bone-chilling song into a dance party remix completely removes everything that makes it good. The stark vocals, the discordant harmonies at the end, the sweeping music. All that stuff is really lost when you add a steady beat and some autotune.

Plus, the lyrics are deeply and meaningfully weird to hear on the radio late at night. I mean, you thought "Goodbye Earl" by the Dixie Chicks was weird? These are the actual lyrics to the song:

Are you, Are you
Coming to the tree
Where they strung up a man they say murdered three
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree

Are you, Are you
Coming to the tree
Where the dead man called out for his love to flee
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree

There are two more verses after that, each just as bleak and dreary as the one before. It's a song about a murderer asking his lover to kill herself for crying out loud. Not really the easy listening sort of tune. Which is a large part of its context in the story. It stands in as an analogue for Katniss' relationship with Peeta. They're both sentenced to die, and in their current standoff, they're likely to cause each others' deaths. So there's a lot of meaning there, and it's weird to hear that with some backing techno beats.

It's more than that, though. I think the reason it bothered me so much is because it felt like something the Capitol would do, and that scares the crap out of me.

Like, this remixing managed to keep what was inoffensive and mediocre about the song - that it was from a movie soundtrack and made a lot of money - but utterly lose the message and impact of the song - that it is a rallying call for those disaffected from their government to rush out and seize power. It was a watered down version that changed a charged political statement into a purely commercial piece of entertainment.

And yet, at its heart, this is just a piece of entertainment. It's a movie created to entertain. To provoke thoughts, sure, that too, but primarily to entertain. So you see my dilemma. Can I really condemn this song for commodifying Katniss' struggle when her struggle isn't real? When it's all just a story made up by some people who are very rich because we all liked it and bought it? Does turning this song into a dance number matter at all?

I honestly don't know. I really don't. I keep going around in circles on this.

I mean, on the one hand, yeah, it's a movie and it's not real and there's plenty of real stuff in the world to care about. On the other hand, this movie has acted as a lightning rod for people to identify real suffering in the world. People are more capable of recognizing the overreaches of government in some places because they have this film to act as a metaphor and as a catalyst. I mean, the film was actually banned in Thailand for being too likely to incite revolution.

Last year, I think, Covergirl did an ad campaign where they advertised their cosmetics under a line about looking fabulous like the Capitol in the Hunger Games. They did a whole advertising line about aligning yourself with the out and out bad guys of the films. The horrible, corrupt elites. And it was very successful. Is that bad? Should we care?

The shifting of this song into something more meant for entertainment than revolt is very similar to the way that in the story the Capitol changes all of Katniss' revolutionary acts into acts of a young girl in love. They use this to make her more palatable and to weaken her. She's not powerful if they're the ones determining the message here. Turning her anthem of revolt into a tune you can really boogie to is exactly the kind of thing they would do. But, again, does that matter? It's fictional.

Because here's the thing: sure, the messages sent by the original version of this song aren't real. They're fiction. I do get that. But they do strike at something very real in my heart and in the hearts of the people I know. So is it okay for this all to be muted and toned down and turned into something inoffensive?

I still don't know.

But I think that it's important to ask. Because whether or not it is okay, and I don't even know if there is an answer to that question, it matters that we ask it anyway. It's important to think about the way that these things affect us, because the line between culture and media is so easily blurred. In a lot of ways our culture creates our media, but in a lot of other ways, our media creates our culture. And that's okay, it's always been like that, but it's not a process we should by any means be ignoring.

I didn't pull the car over, for the record. I drove home and by the end, I have to admit that I was kind of digging the remix. I mean, I like the original better, obviously, but it was catchy. Sort of like comparing a pop tart and a delicious home made fruit pie. You know the pie is better. Totally. But if it's around, you'll probably eat the pop tart if you're hungry and you don't have a fork.

That probably doesn't say very good things about our culture. But I'm still not sure if that means it says bad things instead.


Strong Female Character Friday: Ulga (Princess Ugg)

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Look, we all know that there are strong female characters and then there are Strong Female Characters. And then there are Strong Female Characters who read like they were written using a manual. Princess Ulga from the hilarious and hopefully long-lived comic Princess Ugg is definitely one of the latter, a female character so clearly designed to be a feminist archetype that you kind of want to be annoyed by her on principle. Except you aren't. Because she's great.

Princess Ugg, written and drawn by Ted Naifeh, is a pretty standard fish out of water story. Our heroine, the titular Ulga, is the crown princess of a far northern kingdom full of fearsome warriors and an eternal war with the frost giants. She's basically a Viking, and she's the biggest badass to ever badass.

But when her mother falls in battle, a remarkable moment because Ulga has always thought her mother invincible, she makes Ulga promise that she will learn how to lead their people well. Not just with another thousand years of war, but just maybe with the first years of peace. In other words, her mother's dying wish is that Ulga learn diplomacy, how to be a good and just ruler. And there's really only one place to learn that. Princess school!

Which is how our journey begins. Ulga travels down from her high mountain home to the land below and enrolls in a princess academy for the daughters of rulers in the whole region. She's forced to take classes on elocution and grace and dancing, but also the classes she really wants, about political history and diplomatic tactics. 

The real challenge of the school, though, comes not from the classes but from the other students themselves. And this is where the story could fall into shaky territory. After all, we've established that Ulga is tough and awesome and a fearsome warrior. The other girls are all basically stereotypical princesses, and catty ones at that. They like their fine dresses and delicate dancing lessons and they find Ulga's muscles and illiteracy horrifying and ridiculous.

It could so easily fall into one of those narratives where we praise Ulga for not being like those terrible, catty feminine girls, for being "not like other girls", and appreciate her as separate from her gender. But, I am happy to say, the story really doesn't do that.

Yes, the other girls are horrible to Ulga at first, but most of them really come to respect her. Yes, there are a lot of cultural differences and different values at play in their interactions, but Ulga does come close to being friends with them. At this point in the comics, there's really only one holdout who insists on being a jerk to Ulga, and that's her roommate, Jullifer, who is really exceptionally nasty and probably would be to anyone.

Furthermore, the entire point of the series is not that Ulga is better or more valuable because she's physically capable and they aren't. The point is that Ulga is a warrior who needs to learn to be both a warrior and a princess. Those feminine skills that she lacks aren't pointless: they're what's going to help her end the war with the frost giants once and for all.

The most recent issue even ends with Ulga "embracing mah destiny" and kissing the handsome prince to thank him for rescuing her* and the other girls when they're kidnapped by pirates. Ulga isn't morally opposed to liking girly stuff, nor is she really that repulsed by it. And, as time goes on, the other girls are genuinely impressed and in awe of her physical prowess. In other words, the narrative here isn't about one form of female expression being better or more valuable than another, but about the ways in which we can all teach each other how to be better people.

And that's a pretty awesome message for a comic like this to send. It's about sharing and understanding, and it's still very funny and a bit caustic at times, but it never really loses its meaning. It's so valuable in a comic like this because characters like Ulga are still, sadly, pretty rare. The female characters we do get generally do fall into the trap of competing with other women rather than learning from them, and that's a damn shame.

It's also a societal problem, because it makes it harder for women to see one another as people to be built up. I mean, when you look at our media, so much of it is centered around the idea of pitting women against each other. "These two female celebrities are in a catfight over a man!" and "Who do you think would win in a fight, Agent Carter or Melinda May?!" They're questions that make women start to see one another as rivals. Like there aren't enough resources for us all, and if we don't cut down the other women we'll be left with nothing.

But life isn't like that at all.

In life, the best way to be successful isn't to cut down the people around you, it's to build them up and build yourself at the same time. It's to learn from the women in your life and teach them what you know so that everyone can increase. The only thing that happens when women see each other as competition is that we all lose. Every single one.

I'm not saying that Princess Ugg is a perfect comic, though it is better than most. But I am saying that Ulga is a freaking great character simply because she values the different perspectives and values that other women can bring to her life. And that is freaking awesome.

Also she is terrifying when she wants to be.
*Sort of rescuing her. It's clear that Ulga had it all well in hand, but he did provide a helpful distraction.

Idolization, Dehumanization, and Martin Luther King Jr. in Selma

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Look, sometimes there are movies that I am already predisposed to love and where it would take a lot to get me to admit that they aren't good. And in the spirit of journalistic integrity, let me be the first to confess that I was really ready to love Selma. Both because it's a movie made by a black female director (Ava DuVernay), produced by a black woman (Oprah Winfrey), about the black leaders of the civil rights movement at a moment in history when we so desperately need to be reminded of the victories already won and the struggles still ahead, and also because it's one of those triumph of the human spirit movies and you guys know how much those are crack to me.*

Fortunately for my pride and dignity as a pop culture critic, the movie's actually genuinely good as well. So I'm not going to have to tie myself into knots defending a piece of crap, or excoriating a movie I really wanted to love. Instead, I get to praise something I consider praise-worthy, and that's always a nice feeling.

If anyone was just reading through the first few paragraphs in order to figure out whether or not I think the movie is worth watching,** this is your official indication that, yes, it is, and you should go see Selma at your earliest convenience.

The film, which really is excellent, follows the leaders of the SCLC (Southern Christian Leadership Conference) as they decide to continue the fight for civil rights by tackling voter's rights in Selma, AL. Central to the story, of course, is Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. (David Oyewolo), but right there alongside him are the other less remembered but just as important figures: Diane Nash (Tessa Thompson), James Bevel (Common), Andrew Young (André Holland), Bayard Rustin (Ruben Santiago-Hudson), Ralph Abernathy (Colman Domingo), James Orange (Omar J. Dorsey), and Frederick Reese (E. Roger Mitchell).

Oh, and let's not pass over mentioning Amelia Boynton (Lorraine Toussant), John Lewis (Steven James), and James Forman (Trai Byers). I can keep going. 

The story kicks off with Dr. King accepting the Nobel Peace Prize for his civil rights efforts. It's 1964, and King has been steadily rising as the face of civil rights for almost a decade. But while he's happy to get the prize, and grateful to steal a moment away with Coretta (Carmen Ejogo), it's just a few days before he's back to business, confronting the sitting president, Lyndon B. Johnson (Tom Wilkinson), about the vital necessity of a voting right's act. Yes, the Civil Rights Act has passed and ended segregation, and that's a great thing, but there's still a lot of work to be done.

When Johnson refuses to even consider making voter's rights a priority, preferring to try to sway King into working for the "War on Poverty", Dr. King and the other leaders agree that they're going to have to get their hands dirty again. This time in Selma.

What helps a lot here is that the film makes it abundantly clear why this issue, voter's rights, is so vital and complex. I mean, it doesn't really trip immediately to the mind as the direct follow up to the end of segregation. But, as King explains, it's crucial. If black citizens cannot register to vote, then they cannot vote, which means that they have no opportunity to influence their governmental representation. That can lead to a legislature and local structure that does not represent their interests.

More problematic, though, is the fact that without a voter's registration card, one cannot be called up for jury duty, which means that when black citizens are tried for a potential crime, they come up against white juries that have been conditioned to see black citizens as inferior because they don't vote. It's a vicious cycle, and as King so aptly points out, it's central to creating a country where black citizens can actually live.

And since reasoned, logical explanation isn't half as good as emotional drama at getting the point across, all of this torment and frustration is shown to us in a simple but devastating scene where Annie Lee Cooper (Oprah Winfrey) tries to register to vote and is turned down because she cannot meet the arbitrary entrance demands of the white registrar - demands that it is clear she has made every effort to meet and been turned down time and time again for simply being black.

The movie follows the events of the protests in Selma and the eventual march from Selma to Montgomery, where King gave a speech on the steps of the state capitol to make it clear that voter's rights was an issue there to stay. The central conflict of the story involves that march and whether or not it will even happen - Governor George Wallace (Tim Roth) and his cronies make every attempt to end it by violent force and political maneuvering - but the real heart of the story isn't in the details. Because, really, the details aren't the interesting thing here. We know how the story ends. Roughly. The heart of the film then isn't what happened, but how it happened.

As in, who were these people really? Who were the brave men and women who dropped everything in their lives to go to a foreign town and be brutally beaten in the name of helping some people they'd never met register to vote?

And, most centrally, who actually was Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.? For a historical figure we all seem to think we know, the film makes it very clear that we don't really know him at all. And that's actually pretty great.

The thing is, there are really two different ways to dehumanize a person, and both of them come up in this film. The one most explicitly dealt with in the text is the way we usually think of dehumanization: the systematic, racist belief that some people are less human than other. That they're beasts. 

We see this in the way that the white government officials treat the non-violent black protestors. Insisting that they're all animals. Violently attacking them. Using horrible racist slurs and threats of even more sustained violence. These are all methods of dehumanization.

But the other kind of dehumanization is actually, to my mind, more insidious almost because it's harder to see. And that is the dehumanizing process of making a person into an idol or an icon. Making a regular human being out to be more than human. Because that's dehumanization too, and while it's not treated as explicitly in the film, it is there, implicitly, in its challenging of how we all view Dr. King.

I hope you get what I'm talking about here, but I'll rephrase just so we're sure. There are two ways to dehumanize someone: to make them out to be less than human or to make them out to be more than human. In both cases, the outside world has declared that a person or group of people is not human. And that's a very bad thing.

It's easy to see why it's bad to make someone or a group of people out to be less than human, but it's harder to see why it's such a bad thing to make someone out to be more than human. And this is where the real genius of the film lies. Because if there's one example of this form of dehumanization in our culture it's in the way we treat Martin Luther King, Jr. We do not remember him as a man, but instead prefer to remember him as something more. Some superhuman megaperson who swooped down and created civil rights amen. 

We, and by "we" I mean the white community, don't like to admit that Dr. King was human. Why? Because it's harder. In a lot of ways, it's very easy to say that Dr. King was better than human because it relieves us all of the burden of following in his footsteps. If he's more than human, then we all have an excuse. He's better than us, and therefore we cannot be judged by the same measure. Dr. King is superhuman, so it totally makes sense that he was able to do things other men couldn't.

Except he wasn't. He was a man. A very human man with a troubled marriage, some deeply problematic behavior patterns, and a history of not always making the best choices. He was a person. And it's crucial to remember that. No one wants to remember that. 

Sort of how the white community really glosses over King's outrage and frustration with white liberals. Or how we all just collectively don't want to talk about his calling out the Johnson administration for its Vietnam policies. We prefer to forget that he had a hostile relationship with the FBI and was targeted for some deeply illegal wiretapping and was even considered a possible assassination target by our own government. We don't want to confess that a lot of what King said makes us feel bad about ourselves. Guilty. And it should.

The value of this film is that by reminding us of the history of the civil right's movement without glossing over the hard stuff, it makes clear that the civil rights leaders, especially Dr. King, were all people. Normal, real people who decided to risk their lives and livelihoods for a greater cause. We don't like to remember that because it asks a really simple question: if they could do it, then why aren't we?

Now, I don't think that the white liberal community has been on some sadistic and intentional crusade to muddy the legacy of Dr. King by conveniently forgetting his humanity, but I do think that's exactly what has happened. In taking great pains to praise him, we've forgotten that he was just like us, just better at it.

David Oyewolo does, for the record, an amazing job in this film. He manages to ape Dr. King's movements, speech patterns, accent, and even his facial expressions with eery accuracy, but he never lets the performance feel like a pastiche or impression. He just inhabits the character and lets you watch as Dr. King faces incredibly hard decisions in his life's work and in his marriage. He makes Martin's humanity undeniable, a living breathing thing on its own. He gives this historical figure we all prefer to remember as superhuman, he gives him flaws and vulnerability and moments of weakness. Pauses in the breath. Catches in his voice. Little tics and tells that suggest that Dr. King is as human as any of us and that arrest us with that awareness.

The great success of this movie, I think, is not that it's a story about the "triumph of the human spirit", but that it very effectively humanizes a man we all forgot wasn't a god. Yeah, it's a great movie about a civil rights event that changed our country for the better. But it's also a movie about a very human man who didn't stop trying to do what was good even when his own failings interfered. And that's just as important.

Seriously, if David Oyewolo and Ava DuVernay don't at least get Oscar nominations for this, I'm going to be very pissed.

Also Carmen Ejogo absolutely kills it as Coretta Scott King, a woman committed to the cause but frustrated by the cost.
*As exhibits A, B, C, and all of the letters, please see my obsession with Chariots of Fire.
**My family openly does this. Especially my sister. Who I love.

Think of the Children! Tuesday: Maniac Magee and Reconciliation

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Everyone's got a book that just totally grabs them. A book that felt like it was yanking their shoulders down and sticking itself up close to it could yell in their face, "LISTEN TO ME THIS IS IMPORTANT." If you haven't found that book yet, then I advise you keep looking because there honest to goodness is at least one of those for everyone.

This, for the record, isn't that book for me. I like Maniac Magee, but I read it for the first time this weekend, at the behest of someone who does love this book that much. And I can see why. Because for all that I'd never really heard of it before now, it's a really good book that treats with some of my favorite topics and sticky issues, while still managing to be a light-hearted fun kids' book.

So what is Maniac Magee all about? Well, race relations for one thing. Also homelessness, child neglect, emotional abuse, starvation and suicidal ideation, death, and other super fun topics. And yet, for all this, it is a really fun book to read, and surprisingly quick. I got through it in about two hours, and it's not like I was weeping my way along.

The book, by Jerry Spinelli, who wrote a whole slew of preteen books like this that I have similarly not read, follows the adventures and legend of Jeffrey Lionel Magee, a white twelve year old whose home life is pretty crummy. His parents died in a tragic accident when he was little, and he's spent eight years living with his alternately neglectful and emotionally abusive aunt and uncle since then. Until, one day, he just can't take it anymore, and he runs away. Very literally. He just sprints out the door and never comes back.

A year after that fateful day, Jeffrey Magee turns up in the quiet but deeply unhappy town of Two Mills, Pennsylvania. Because he's new there and has no adult in his life telling him what to do, Jeffrey steps in it pretty quickly, accidentally uncovering the simmering race tensions between the white side of town and the black side. To him, he has no idea that there are two sides of town, because he's never been there before. But to everyone else, he's breaking the unwritten rule of Two Mills. And it has to stop.

The plot of the book, though it sounds dire in what I outlined up above, is actually really light and sweet. Insofar as a book that deals with these issues can be light and sweet. Jeffrey, who is quickly nicknamed Maniac for the way he casually disregards all the social cues he just doesn't know about, lives homeless in the town for a little while before being taken in by the Beales, a very kind black family. He absolutely loves living with them, and they love having him, but some other members of the black community in town see him as an invader. It's not enough that the white community has half the town, now they have to start colonizing the black side too?

When the anger starts to spill out against his new family, Maniac runs away, and spends the winter living in a equipment shed outside the park, making friends with the park keeper and teaching him how to read. But then the keeper, Grayson, passes away (presumably of old age), and Maniac is once again out of a home.

From there he falls into a deep depression, nearly dies, but rouses himself in time to get involved with a white family - the McNabs. In contrast to the loving and extremely functional Beale family, the McNabs are a whole passel of aggressive, mean, racist men. Maniac doesn't really like staying with them much, but he does because he's afraid of who they'll become without him there to mitigate their worse tendencies.

This is where the underlying tensions about the black and white communities of the town come to the forefront in the story. While the black community wasn't happy to see Maniac when he was living with the Beales and "invading" their side of town, the white community is even more hostile. George McNab, the father of the family, is a member of a legitimate hate group, and spends his days building a bunker in the house for when the black community inevitably riots and tries to destroy him. The idea that they might not because they don't care literally never occurs to him.

And so it's up to Maniac to try to bring reconciliation to this town. Which he does, but not in the way that anyone really expects.

That's the thing about this book, the part I most appreciated. While it would be easy to write a narrative where Maniac Magee helps racial reconciliation in this town because he's so awesome and so good at everything, it's actually worth noting that every time Maniac actually tries to make people get along better, he utterly fails.

When he tries to get more comfortable with the black kids in his neighborhood, he actually manages to spur resentment by being a lot better than everyone else at football. When he tries to get along with the white kids, he shows them up by being amazing at baseball. When he runs a footrace and outpaces everyone they've ever seen, he just ends up with everyone pissed at him. Same too when he unties an untieable knot and just gets everyone mad.

Every time that Maniac actively tries to get people to get along he screws it up. It's not until he stops trying and just lives his life that people get on board. Nothing in this narrative comes too easily. It's never like BOOM! The white kid shows up and magically everyone gets along all of a sudden. In fact, for a while there it looks like Maniac's presence has actually made things actively worse for a fair number of people.

The crucial moment in the story, the one that sold me on the whole narrative, is when the one of the little McNab boys, who've been raised by a white supremacist father, is trapped out on a railroad bridge. Maniac happens to be running by with his friend from the black side of town, Mars Bar, when they see him and beg for help. Maniac is a really fast runner, so he can totally run and get the little boy before the train comes, right?

Uh, no, as it turns out. He can't. And that's the turning point of the whole story. Maniac, after a whole book of bending over backwards trying to save people and help them and just make them all get along, doesn't save the little boy. Not out of malice or ill-intent, but because he very literally can't. When he sees the train, he goes into a dissociative state, with all of the trauma that's piled up since his parents died (in a train accident) hitting him at once. They find him hours later on the other side of town. In the end, Maniac helps people by not helping them and forcing them to get along for themselves.

Because that is what happens. Mars Bar, who doesn't dissociate, is still there, and he saves the boy, and then takes both of them home to his family. His family, of nice kind black people, shows the little boys the first true parental affection they've ever really had, and it's almost impossible to send them home at the end of the night. It doesn't fix everything immediately, but all of a sudden, the two sides of the town are talking to each other again. 

In the aftermath, Maniac finally gets to go home and live with the Beales, because the town (both sides) can finally see him for who he is: a scared little boy who needs a family.

It's a great ending and a really great book. Not just for the way it deals with racism, but also for the way that it insistently tackles a lot of really difficult issues without ever feeling preachy or heavy. The idea that your family does not have to be the people you are biologically related to. The idea that home is where they call you in to dinner. Just the simple concept that you can have more impact on the world by being vulnerable than by all the feats people can dream up. It's a really good book.

I mean, there's so much detail here. Maniac runs away from his aunt and uncle, who never ever spoke to each other and preferred to ignore each other, screaming about how they just needed to talk, only to wind up in a town with two sides that never speak and prefer to ignore each other. Of course he tries to fix it! Of course he absolutely can't stand the status quo. 

And there's the detail about making it explicit in the narrative that Maniac is a white boy. At first I was a little miffed about that, because I love a book with a protagonist that is anything other than white, but as I was reading, it made morse sense. Maniac has to be white for the story to work, because a lot of the story is about the white people on the other side of town realizing that the black families are just like them. And if the story is about a little black boy who gets taken in by a kind white family, well, we know that story. We've heard it a lot. It's nothing new. It's The Blind Side. And it wouldn't have the power to spur on racial reconciliation in the town.

Because, and I love the book for making this clear without beating us over the head with it, the white side of town has more power. It's made perfectly clear that when the black community revolts against having Maniac there, an idea that the white community will use him as a tool for "gentrifying" and moving into the black side of town, they're not entirely wrong. The white side of town has more power. Maniac, as a white kid, is able to come live on the black side of town in a way that a black kid absolutely would not be able to come live on the white side of town.

It's a stupid truth, but it is true. That's why the ending, with Mars Bar, who is black, rescuing two racist little white boys, has to be the way it is. Maniac couldn't save them, because then it's just a white kid saving two more white kids. And it stinks that it took a superhuman feat by a black kid to bring the town together, that it had to be the black community reaching its hand out first, but it's true. That's how it has to work for the message to really stick. 

And, when it comes down to it, it's a book I wish I had read when I was twelve. Not that it was bad reading it now, but I wish I'd had more years with this book, more years to appreciate it. There's so much here that I've barely scratched the surface. Which is funny, because the book itself is less than two hundred pages long.

But I do. I wish I'd read it earlier, and I know that this is going to go onto the list of books that I force all the children I watch and all the children I someday have to read. Because they need to understand this, all of these issues. That family is more than just who you're related to. 

That race is by and large a social construct but that doesn't in any way negate the experiences of people whose race has deeply influenced their lives. That homelessness is an endemic problem but that compassion is the key to helping anyone. That you can't ever force two people or two groups to talk, but you can make them want to, and sometimes that's enough.

It's a very good book.

RECAP: Strange Empire 1x01 - The Rise of the Feminist Western

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New year, new shows to recap. And this one is pretty awesome a show to talk about. For starters, almost no one in this country has heard of it, probably because it’s a Canadian production and for some reason Americans are really good at pretending Canada is just a large culture-less hat. Which it isn’t. For the record.

But the other reasons why Strange Empire in particular is worth recapping are more complex and interesting. It’s a show that inhabits the very new frontier of television: prestige shows made for and about women. Something that Outlander and Orphan Black have hinted at, but this show really signals the arrival of that movement. Mostly because, as opposed to those other shows, Strange Empire arrives mostly unheralded. It’s just another show, albeit one that is concerned entirely with the lives of women. And I find that fascinating.

Yet for all that this is a really cool show, and the first feminist Western I’ve ever seen, it’s not a perfect show, which makes it interesting as well. It’s no Orphan Black, is what I’m getting at, nor is it Deadwood or Carnivale or any of the other many many shows to which it could be compared. It’s good, but it’s not perfect, and that’s worth discussing.

So, basically, all of this is to say that for the next ten weeks (or so, given my spotty track record with finishing things on time) we’re going to be analyzing an obscure Canadian Western and it’s going to be great. Strap in!

The show starts in media res, as it were, with horses galloping through the woods and out into the fields. The horses are ridden by Kat (Cara Gee) and Jeremiah (Richard de Klerk) and they’re going to the Station House, a wayhouse for wagon trains and stagecoaches on the Montana/Canada border. They’re rushing, going as fast as humanly and horsely possible, because their baby is sick. Probably dying. But there’s supposed to be a doctor at the Station House.

It should tell you something about the tone of the show right off the bat that when they finally arrive at the Station House, there’s no doctor there. Just a woman in a very pink dress (later introduced as Mrs. Fogg, played by April Telek). She’s been stranded there for days, waiting for her ride. And as Kat and Jeremiah collapse in each other’s arms and sob over their baby’s dead body (I told you this was bleak), Mrs. Fogg watches Kat’s horse keel over and die as thunder rumbles in the distance.

Yay! New show! Aren’t you excited?

We come back in on Kat, clearly emotionally affected, running through the woods and then slowly picking her way towards where Jeremiah and a priest are standing over a very small grave. The priest says some words, but Jeremiah has other things on his mind. He turns to Kat with a pair of wedding rings and asks if she’ll finally marry him. He’s been wanting to marry her since they left somewhere or other, and now they have a priest. She says yes. They’re married now. Because I guess they weren’t before.

Elsewhere on the plains, we come in on Rebecca (Melissa Farman) studiously drawing a very detailed (and gorgeous) picture of a woman’s internal organs. She looks up from her drawing and sees that one of the wagon train women at the campsite is making a face at her. Rebecca makes a face slowly, as if trying it out. Then the stagecoach driver comes into frame and shoos two teenage girls off the top of the stagecoach where they’ve been playing. 

I say teenage, but really I have no idea. Probably teenage. Teenage-ish. It’s really hard to tell.

The girls make a really striking difference to the figure that Rebecca cuts - they’re all long loose hair and flowing smocks, running down to tough boots. Clearly girls of a working class origin, and just as clearly, half feral. By contrast, Rebecca is in a prim black dress buttoned up to her neck. Her hair is neatly styled and her lace collar is stark white and probably starched. Yet here she is, sitting in the dirt with everyone else.

Rebecca’s husband, Thomas (Bill Marchant) brings the girls over to eat with him and Rebecca. He’s clearly much older than she is, but he’s just as clearly a very kind man. After all, he has invited two rough girls to come share their dinner, and when they finish slurping it down (as Rebecca watches with interest) he offers them more. The girls, Robin and Kelly (Matreya Scarrwener and Michelle Creber respectively), might be low on tact, but they do manage to ask some questions we want answered. Why is Thomas married to a woman so much younger than him and what the heckity heck are they doing in the wilderness?

Well, Thomas is widowed and Rebecca is his new wife. From their faces during that pronouncement, it’s clear that neither of them is thrilled about this. Thomas is putting a good face on it, but Rebecca really isn’t. Unclear if that’s because she’s upset to be married to him or because she misses his wife too. Hard to say at this point. But something is up.

Also it’s a little funky that they decided to take their wedding trip to the middle of nowhere, but maybe they’re just strange people. That’s the conclusion Robin and Kelly seem to come to, at least.

Of course, turnabout is fair play, and Rebecca immediately springs into asking the girls what they are doing out here in the middle of nowhere. Don’t they have parents?

Er, no, it seems they don’t. Their mother has been dead for years, and implicitly their father has also just died or someone of that nature, because the girls are being taken up a man called “Slotter” to be sold as whores. The driver’s been paid to deliver them, and they are none too pleased. But there isn’t a lot they can really do about it.

Me too, Kat.
It is, for the record, worth noting that this scene is not really very well acted. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love this show already (and I’ve seen about half of the series so far), but this was clearly not one of their more shining moments in acting or writing. Kelly’s pronouncement, “We’re to be whores, ma’am,” is stilted and weird, and in strange contrast to her performance later in the show. So I’m figuring it was just an off day. Anyway. 

Mrs. Fogg is still stranded at the station house and passes the time by flipping tarot cards. Just another way that this show binds itself indelibly to Carnivale in my mind. But upstairs, Kat and Jeremiah are “celebrating” their wedding. As they lie in bed, they plan for the future. They’ll make it to their final destination, and then have more children, ones to make up for the baby they lost. 

It’s a subtle costuming point, but it’s worth noting that when we see Kat in her underwear (which is pretty comprehensive, actually, since it’s a skirt and a corset and a tanktop, basically), we can see an armband with Native American beading on it. Kat, though we could have figured this out from the casting, is an “Indian” then, and apparently comfortable enough with her heritage to keep the armband.

Night has fallen on the wagon train campsite, and with it some more dubious stares at Rebecca and her husband. This time, though, for good reason. Thomas has Rebecca in a head-measuring contraption, and Rebecca wonders if she should tell everyone why. After all, she is the proof of “female ability”, the phrenological explanation of why some women can be almost as smart as men, golly gee!

It actually makes me like her husband more that he’s like, no, Rebecca, you probably shouldn’t go around telling people that, but in a gentle and kind way. After all, female ability is hard to quantify, and also that’s no way to make friends.

They’re also both upset about the fact that Robin and Kelly are to be sold into sex slavery and Rebecca insists they do something about it. The driver’s clearly a part of it, but it seems Thomas has an idea on how to help the girls. Good. I like this couple, for all that they’re not very couple-y. They’re good people. Good, weird people.

He steps away, and Kelly comes up to Rebecca in his absence. She claims that Robin is having a cramp and needs her help. Then, when Rebecca goes over to Robin, Kelly rummages in her jewelry box and steals a necklace. What’s interesting is that Rebecca looks back over and sees her do it, and says nothing. Like I said, good people.

Morning at the station house. Mrs. Fogg is saved! The wagon and stagecoach train has arrived. All of our characters converge. Rebecca and Thomas come out of their carriage to find that the man who’s going to take them on the next part of their journey hasn’t arrived yet. And since Rebecca is dressed in respectable Victorian clothing - all in black, with a cloak and a hat - she’s sweltering and needs help getting to the shade. Fashion isn’t very useful when you’re dying of heatstroke.

Rebecca’s clearly an odd duck to begin with, but I’m starting to suspect that she might be neurodivergent. As in, when Mrs. Fogg gives her a funny look for staring, Rebecca seems utterly baffled as to why. Doesn’t everyone stare? Isn’t that a normal thing?

It’s fashionable these days to say that every strange character is on the autistic spectrum somewhere, but I feel pretty confident diagnosing Rebecca there. Uninflected speaking voice, confusion with social gestures and facial expressions, unawareness of social cues, etc. We’ll have to see how this plays out.

On the other side of the station house, Kat and Jeremiah are buying a new horse to replace the one that died. The man keeps trying to sell them bad horses, but Kat knows her stuff and immediately picks out the two she wants. Of course, the horse dude won’t deal with Kat. He talks about her instead with her owner, Jeremiah. Kat’s good at horses and has picked out ones that will make it easier to breed horses and start their ranch. But it’s insulting that he won’t say it to her face.

Jeremiah and the man talk while Kat looses one of the horses, the one the man claimed wasn’t fully broken yet, and proceeds to ride it around the camp. Jeremiah and horse guy watch in awe and the horse guy admits that his wife was a Blackfoot Indian*. It’s unclear whether or not Jeremiah and Kat are hoping Kat will “pass” as white, but clearly this guy doesn’t buy it.

Hang on, is this scene in here because they think the audience needs telling? The audience doesn’t need telling. We figured this one out all on our own, thanks.

Anyway, horse guy is so impressed with Kat’s abilities and so lonesome for his wife I guess that he decides to give them one of the horses for free. After all, as he tells Jeremiah openly, he stole them and brought them here to fence. So who cares? He’ll just make them pay for the mare. Jeremiah just sort of looks on weirdly at this guy who dumped a year’s worth exposition on him in two minutes.

Rebecca’s found a rain barrel or trough or something in the stable and is cooling off as Thomas comes in to confront her about her drawings. She has a medical illustration of a baby but it’s the wrong way in the womb. Rebecca tries to explain that it’s a breach birth, and she’s pretty sure she could actually get it out by operating on the mother. A Caesarian Section. But those haven’t been made standard yet, and certainly not by a woman, so Thomas is super skeptical. 

It is a good scene, though, because it makes it clear from the get-go that Rebecca is really gifted when it comes to medicine, and for all that she’s “odd”, she’s also brilliant. And Thomas is both proud of that and a little uncomfortable with it too. So they argue. And Rebecca decides that she’s done with Thomas’ crap, so she declares, “I’m very warm,” before glaring at him as she unbuttons her dress. Thomas immediately turns away and leaves. So, yeah. Not a normal married couple at all.

And now Rebecca is, by Victorian standards at least, standing in a stable topless (she’s actually still wearing a corset and a tanktop like thing). One of them men swarming around the station happens to ride past just then, and there is a very heated moment of eye contact before the dude rides on. Curiouser.

Kat’s still riding her new horse around the field when she comes across another women, one we haven’t met yet, getting up after having her picture taken with…a baby? A doll? Something weird and creepy. The woman is wearing a gorgeous green dress but also a long black lace veil, and she is really weird. Weird even by my standards. She walks right up to Kat and says, “My child was born astride the grave. I’m a mother to a corpse.”

Which are memorable first words if ever there were some. Then the lady gets even stranger and gets all up in Kat’s business, asking if she has “the sight”. She wants to know if Kat can hear the cries of her dead baby. Kat’s reaction? Just ride the horse away from the crazy lady, thank you. And crazy lady watches Kat go as she herself is pulled away by her handler or husband or whatever.

That was interesting. The woman rides off from the station house on a white horse, led by her manservant or husband or handler or jailer, a tiny black coffin strapped to the back. Charming.

From over the hill we see a group of men on horseback ride up. Their leader, a young-ish guy with lank dark hair framing a face made for playing villains, asks impatiently if his father sent the payroll through. Upon the answer that he has not, the man is angry, and demands instead that the driver hand over the girls, presumably Robin and Kelly. So this must be Slotter (Aaron Poole).

The driver is unhappy to announce that the girls have run off. He can’t find them anywhere. Slotter figures he’ll be able to find them pretty easily. All he needs to do is shoot his gun into the air and scare everyone half to death. He demands all the women take off their bonnets - does he have a photograph of the girls with which to compare? - and when he can’t find them he and his deputy speculate about whether all these nice girls would be a good enticement to get investors for their business. Oh sketchy sex traffickers. 

Mrs. Fogg breaks the uncomfortable silence by announcing her presence loudly and wondering why Captain Slotter has taken this long to pick her up. I guess she was waiting on him all along, and it’s been three days. Is Mrs. Fogg a prostitute? This is unclear. 

What is clear is that Slotter is a terrible person. He reacts to Mrs. Fogg’s complaints with about as much grace as an angry toddler, and hits her upside the face. Then he turns around to see a little boy mocking him while his brother tells him to shut the hell up. Slotter is displeased. He approaches their wagon, as if to search it. But he’s pulled up short by a warning shot. This is Kat and Jeremiah’s wagon, and they do not want Slotter looking through their stuff. They have feelings about that.

Jeremiah even lets Slotter sneak a peek to show that he’s got nothing to hide. And it seems like the tension has ended when the little boy again pipes up and says, “Are you afraid of girls, sir? So am I.”

Everyone just backs away and keeps their hackles up. As Slotter retreats, Jeremiah warns Kat that one day she’ll go too far. Her response is simple (and after my own heart): “Better too far than not far enough.” Also Jeremiah pulls back the sheet over their wagon just a touch further and we see some socked toes waggle a hello. So apparently the girls were there after all.

Mrs. Fogg’s lot in life looks pretty grim, to be honest. She’s still disheveled and unhappy when Slotter’s lieutenant waggles an apple in her direction - after her complaint that she hasn’t eaten in literal days - and motions for her to follow. It’s insulting, and to make it worse he knocks her on the ground then drags her to the horse like a piece of livestock. As they ride past, Slotter announces that “this here is the real treasure of the West”, pointing at Mrs. Fogg’s legs kicking in the air as she struggles to get upright. 

Thomas turns to Rebecca and begs her finish buttoning her dress, which she does, quickly. Not hard to guess why.

After one last long glare at Kat, Slotter rides off. 

We cut to later in the day, at camp. It looks like the wagon train, now with Kat and Jeremiah in tow, has moved on from the station house. The bridge ahead is out, so they’ll have to wait the rest of the day there. Kat’s taken charge of the girls (and gotten them some bonnets to hide their faces), while Jeremiah works with the two boys. Well, they did say they wanted kids…

And that’s the subject of discussion when Kat and Jeremiah approach Rebecca and Thomas. Who’s going to take the girls? Rebecca and Thomas are kind and good, yes, but they’re also not from around here, and Rebecca isn’t really the mothering sort, while Thomas is a bit old to be raising teenagers. They’re not a good fit. Also apparently Rebecca is in medical school. That’s awesome!

He will pay for the girls to go to San Francisco, if they want, but that’s not a good option either. After all, they can be whores in any city, and without parents to look out for them, that’s all they’re apt to become. Not because they’re inherently slutty or anything, but because they have no other way to provide for themselves in this time and place.

Have I mentioned recently how happy I am to have been born in this century and with this amount of privilege? Because I am so so grateful. Just saying.

Kat’s frustrated with Thomas’ refusal to do anything concrete with the girls and stalks off angrily. I get the feeling she’s going to do that a lot. Later, as she watches the boys and the girls play in a field, she decides that yes, actually, she would like to adopt all of them. Fortunately Jeremiah is completely on board, and moments later we see them all posing for a family portrait with the photographer guy. And Kat makes it completely clear that they are her children now and they can call her Ma.

It’s stinking adorable looking at the kids pleased faces and Kat’s look of muted joy. Jeremiah’s just all but beaming.

And their happiness is infectious. Thomas takes one look at the happy family and decides to organize a wedding celebration for them - after all, they haven’t yet had the opportunity to celebrate. All the men go off for a hunting party to get game for the dinner, and the women stay back to make up a nice table and all that stuff. It’s cute.

Rebecca is unhappy to see her husband going off for the hunting party, and Thomas comforts her with the most ominous explanation ever: “It’s a fitting goodbye to be among these people, in the middle of life.” Rebecca sniffs a minute but then nods and sends him off.

Is Rebecca dying? About to commit suicide? Going to kill herself so that her brain can be used to prove the intelligence of women? None of these options are good, but I can’t think of that many other reasons why Thomas would say that to his worried wife. It might explain their extremely weird dynamic a little. A little. Also he kisses her forehead before he goes off, not her mouth.

Everyone else is super happy and excited, but Kat is not really in the partying mood. The woman she saw yesterday (the one with the dead baby) has given her the “feeling of death all around”. She’s worried. And since Kat is basically our main character, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that she should be worried. Everything’s been going too well, and you don’t start a show off super bleak unless you intend to return it there.

Jeremiah comforts her by telling her they’ll be together forever, “generations of us, til the end of the world.” And then he leaves.

Since the men are gone, the women of the wagon train all decide to go swimming in the river. Robin and Kelly splash and play, but Kat takes this moment to get to know Rebecca better, as she’s standing at the edge of the water being super awkward. But she asks Rebecca to tell her about herself, and Rebecca does. It’s…hard to hear.

When Rebecca was born, her father found her “strange”, and sent her off to live at Bedlam. The insane asylum. She lived there for a few years before Thomas and his late wife Emily came and got her and raised her as their own. Emily died two months ago, and now Rebecca is married to Thomas. Which sounds super duper sketchy, but I can’t imagine there isn’t something more going on here too. I mean, Thomas clearly has no sexual interest in Rebecca - he flinches when she threatens to take her shirt off and he gives her a paternal kiss on the forehead when he leaves.

So why’d he marry his adoptive daughter? Must be some kind of weird “propriety” thing - the remnants of Victorian society impressing themselves on life in places where society really doesn’t matter much. I have no idea what the real reason could be at this point, but clearly something is going on.

Also we find out that Thomas is “educating me in the way of experiments”. Which means either that Thomas does experiments on her, or that Thomas teaches her to do experiments. And she’s done her own amazing surgical experiments, which were published under Thomas’ name, of course. Rebecca gets super excited to tell Kat that she is called the “woman of genius” and exhibited at scientific gatherings. Kat just sort of smiles maternally and is like, “Okay you big dork. We’re totally going to be friends.”

And I continue to believe that Rebecca is somewhere on the autistic spectrum. 

The mood turns quickly, though, when Rebecca’s eye alights on Robin and Kelly, and she asks Kat what will happen if Slotter comes back for them. Kat insists, “He has no claim. They are my daughters.” And with an expression like that, I’d like to see Slotter try to take them from her. I have a sneaking suspicion I will.

Kat goes and gets a gun from her saddlebag and puts it in Rebecca’s hand.

“You would kill him?” Rebecca asks.

“Out here, that’s all you need,” replies Kat, nodding to the pistol. In other words, Slotter may think he’s the law out here, but there is no law out here. We’re too far outside civilization for things like that. The law is what we say it is. And he’s not getting those girls while Kat has breath.

Speaking of which, the girls run past, and Rebecca smiles to hear gunshots. The men have found game! Yay!

But as the evening drags on, and it gets dark, the men still aren’t back yet. Rebecca is worried and Kat has on her “I sense danger” face. At the wedding table, the kids have gathered, so this one creepy guy, who I think is the carriage driver, decides to tell them a story. About the Apache, and how horrible and brutal they are. It’s super racist. Just so racist. Kat clearly agrees.

Drunk guy points right at Kat and insists that she knows just what he’s talking about. He also accuses her of having the “dark power” to go from one dead child to four live ones in a single day. And apparently he’s seen Kat’s face before on a wanted poster. All good things to know, but the guy’s still a racist jerkface. And Georgie, the littlest of Jeremiah and Kat’s new kids, agrees. He gets up and steals the guy’s whiskey before running forward - They’re back!

Oh wait, no they aren’t. It’s much worse than that. Someone is attacking. Drunk racist guy screams “Indians!” before he bites it, but I’m not overly convinced. It’s all too convenient. There’s fire and fighting and people die and wagons burn and man alive this show is depressing. The men still aren’t back yet.

In the morning, Kat goes through the camp looking for her children and her husband - because in the terrible luck that is her life, she has already lost everyone she had. She picks up a plate from what was supposed to be her wedding party and wipes it off, only for the plate to slowly fill with blood falling down from a tree. It’s Georgie’s body. He’s dead.

Rebecca has found her man, though. She found Thomas in the tall grass. He has a concussion and a leg wound that she’s stitching up. He has yet to regain consciousness. Rebecca is efficient at sewing him up, but clearly rattled. She relies on Thomas to help her through these human interactions and stressful moments when all she wants is to zone out. What’s she supposed to do if he’s gone?

Kat insists that the reason all this happened is Slotter. He did this to them. Rebecca doesn’t exactly disagree, but she does reply simple, “It’s Indians we saw.” And it looks like Rebecca might have more thoughts on the matter, but there’s no time. Slotter and his men are riding up at that very moment. Kat strides off to “greet” him, and Rebecca’s like, “Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.” Because it’s been about half an episode and she already knows Kat well enough to figure that this won’t end well.

Slotter stomps around the camp for a minute, pretending sympathy and cursing the Indians. But Kat pulls out a gun and aims it at him and demands to know where the hell her family is. Slotter pulls her down, grabs her, and takes her gun belt from her. Because Kat is grieving too much to be a good fighter right now. But she really wants to murder him. So she hits him across the face with her gunbelt. She accuses him in the loudest voice she has of killing Georgie. Cutting his tongue from his mouth for taunting him.

But no one will back her up, because they’re too scared. Slotter offers all the women, because that’s all that’s left, a place at his camp. A place to stay and recover. The women all agree to go. And while Kat is baffled by this, Rebecca points out that they really have no other options. She has to go with them too, because she needs somewhere to help Thomas recover. She wants Kat to come with them too.

Kat, however, isn’t ready for that. She replies to Rebecca’s calm practicality with, “They’re cattle. Too stupid to think for themselves. And so are you.” Which totally burns, because Rebecca’s entire identity is built on being the “woman of genius.” Kat knows that, and aimed it to hurt. Not nice, Kat. Rebecca tries to explain that they’re all just afraid, but Kat strides off in her pants, and Rebecca hurries off in her skirt, and the gender roles are pretty dang clear.

As the light falls, Thomas and the other wounded are loaded onto a wagon and tied down with rope. Kat, who still hasn’t left, asks Rebecca what she thinks of the fact that no women were killed. Only men and boys. Not a single woman. What does that mean? But Rebecca shakes it off by asking Kat once more to come with her. Because if Slotter has the girls, then they must get them back. And that means being where Slotter is.

So Kat does follow them, in the end. And when she gets to Slotter’s camp, she sees what looks an awful lot like the “Indians” that attacked them riding off into the night.

The women are all put in large open houses with beds and not much more. It’s a sort of camp? They come out in the morning to find their boxes and things laid out on the lawn between a bunch of cabins, and then we see good old Mrs. Fogg come out of one of the buildings. In her underwear. With a dude. Ah. So she is a prostitute after all, and this is the whorehouse. Whore village? Whore place.

Mrs. Fogg, who seems humiliated and unhappy to be seen like this after all the women saw her dragged off upside down, goes a little nuts and rants to all of them about how they’re in Janestown now, and none of them are getting out. It’s called Janestown, of course, because “You’re Jane, and you’re Jane, and you, and you…” Yup. Slotter brought them back to be whores. Wonderful.

And now we cut back to mysterious lady with a dead baby! Finally we can see her with her veil off, as she buries her child in the yard of a big fancy house, and it seems she’s African-American. Right on. This show is pretty diverse. Kat sees her too, and almost comes up to her, but then notices Slotter running up to her, calling for “Isabelle.”

She turns and faces him, slapping a little, as he tries to calm her? Interesting. It seems Isabelle (Tattiawna Jones) knows Slotter. He’s not super happy to have a grave in the yard of a pleasure house because it will absolutely definitely turn off investors. But Isabelle, who recovers pretty quickly from her rage, seems to have an even more practical mind than Rebecca. She demands to know who the women in the cribs are, and upon being told, makes Slotter understand very clearly that he is to let them finish their grieving before putting them to work.

Slotter demands that the two girls he brought be ready to work tonight, and when Isabelle insists that they’re too young to whore, he reiterates. They work. Tonight.

And since Kat was eavesdropping on all of that, now Kat knows that Robin and Kelly are at the big house and will be brought out that night. Which she tells Rebecca because somewhere in here Rebecca has become her partner in crime and possibly best friend? Which is great. I love lady friendships. Rebecca agrees that they can’t let the girls be whored out, but she isn’t sure what to do. Kat is. She and Jeremiah have a nestegg for buying stock for their ranch. She’s going to use the money to buy the girls back.

Cut to night time at the whorehouse. Men arrive on horseback and come inside to hear Slotter’s speech for the investors. Basically, he’s helping build the railroad, but he’s also running a coal mine, and he wants these men to invest in the coal mine. And since the men won’t invest for no reason, Isabelle brings out the whores to get their interest up. Including Robin and Kelly wearing nighties and serving drinks.

The girls look wide-eyed but stubborn, and when someone gruffly tells them to come with him, Robin tells him flatly, “You, sir, can piss up a tree.” Because Robin is the best and also my favorite.

But she needn’t have said that, because it’s Kat. The girls are super happy to see that, and take the money Kat gives them. They bring it to Slotter and tell him that the gentleman would like them both for an hour. Kat and the girls go upstairs, but a suspicious Isabelle has some idea what’s going on. And, coincidentally, Slotter picks this moment to go upstairs too. He’s getting a visit from the doctor. Which makes sense, as he hasn’t seemed well all episode, and it looks to be getting worse.

Kat tells the girls they’ll wait a bit and then escape out the window once everyone has forgotten about them. Sounds about right. But just down the hall, Slotter is surprised to find that the “doctor” he’s gotten isn’t Thomas but Rebecca. Thomas is still unconscious, and Rebecca is a trained medical professional. He’ll deal.

Isabelle bursts in, yelling at Slotter that the girls were too young to whore, and then pulling up short when she sees Rebecca. She has “no faith in a woman doctor”, and then we reveal that Isabelle doesn’t just run the whorehouse, she’s Slotter’s wife. Um, okay. Seems like a super happy marriage there.

Slotter has stomach problems, and Rebecca is professional and efficient in diagnosing them. He thinks it’s because he ate some bad meat a few days ago. And Isabelle blames it on his conscience, for something he did on the day the baby was born. Maybe the fact that it was born dead? Hard to tell. Anyway, he’s drinking a tonic Isabelle gave him, and when Rebecca sniffs it, it’s clear she surprised by the contents. Isabelle beats a hasty retreat.

At that moment, of course, Kat figures it’s time for she and the girls to hightail it out. And they get to the kitchen before Isabelle catches them. Kat begs her to let them go because she knows what it is to lose a child, but Isabelle isn’t swayed until Rebecca pops up and closes the door quietly. Kat reiterates her suspicions that Slotter killed their men, and Isabelle denies them. But she shuts up right quick when Rebecca tells her to let them all go, or she’ll tell Slotter what’s in his tonic. Arsenic, after all, is not particularly good at curing stomachaches.

Isabelle is trying to murder her husband. All right then. She’s mad at Slotter because when the child was born dead, Slotter put the body out and it was bitten by a coyote before she could find it and bury it restfully. She’s pissed and she lets the girls go. She even pours out the tonic and decides not to kill him. Not today. Then she brings him a drink.

Back at the cribs, which is what they call the cabins, the girls fall asleep immediately, cuddled by their Ma. Rebecca tends to Thomas, but Kelly wakes up after a bit and goes over to her. She returns Rebecca’s necklace, the one she stole, and apologizes for taking it. Rebecca tells her that it was a wedding present from Thomas, and Kelly smiles. “Hearts mean love.”

“A heart,” argues Rebecca, “is a pump.”

Kelly just sort of smiles at her and then goes back to lie down with her Ma and her sister. Cute. The girls will be safe for the night, even if Rebecca is nervous as all hell. Slotter’s not coming back tonight. Isabelle will see to it. And as everyone settles down for the night, Kelly pulls something else from her bag of klepto treasures. A marshal’s star. 

“This is Canada, Ma,” she says. “There’s no law here but our own.” Kat turns the star over in her hand as she thinks it over. My guess? The arc of this season is going to see Kat becoming the law here and the women building a society. At least I hope that’s what happens. Building a society is my favorite narrative thing. Ah.

Anyway. End of episode. Can’t wait to see what more bleakness and feminist commentary we get next week!

Yeah, this seems like a totally healthy relationship dynamic. Mmhmmm.
*For the rest of this recap, and probably the rest, I will be referring to Native Americans as “Indians”, because that’s what the show does and I want to be internally consistent. Some prefer the term American Indian, or First Nations, or other various terms, but I’m going to go with what the show uses at least for now.

Is It Wrong That I Don't Like the New Captain America and Thor?

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Look, it's a pretty clear fact by now that I like diversity. Diversity in media and life makes me happy because I think that when we all mix together a bit we can tell much better stories. Diverse stories are, by and large, better stories, because they draw from a wider base of human experience than just the tried and expected "white guy with commitment issues" base.

That having been said, however, I find myself in the uncomfortable position of having been gifted with some wonderful new diverse media that I kind of don't like. At all. Because I think it's not very good. And I feel really bad about that.

The media in question is, as you might have guess from above, the new comics about Captain America and Thor, where the old usual white guys have been replaced by a black guy and a white woman respectively. In Captain America, Steve Rogers has given up the title to finally go off and enjoy his much needed retirement (he is in his nineties, after all), and the mantle of Captain America has passed to his good friend and colleague, Sam Wilson. You may remember Sam as being the super awesome guy played by Anthony Mackie in Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Yeah. That guy. He's Captain America now, and it's great.


As for Thor, the actual crown prince of Asguard is no longer worthy of wielding Mjolnir and so the hammer and the title of "Thor"* have gone to an unknown white woman. We have yet to see her face, but so far we know that she is probably American and a little surprised to be gifted with cosmic powers. So, again, a potentially awesome storyline.

The problem I have with these two comics, which are both in their very early stages, it should be noted, is that they're not very good. As in, while the concepts are super cool and I'm all for them, the actual comics themselves are confusing, badly written, and so embedded in Marvel lore as to be virtually unreadable to me, and I consider myself pretty well versed.

They're not good. It's hard for me to admit this, but it's pretty clear. These issues of the comics are really difficult to get through, and I, at least, am having a lot of trouble giving a crap about the storylines. Which is a problem, since both stories are dealing with apocalypse level events. Captain America has Sam and Nomad (Steve's son Ian) investigating a kidnapping that slowly reveals that HYDRA has infiltrated literally every level of power in the world and if they don't stop it the world will just end like tomorrow. And Thor gives us our new Thor facing off against an invasion of Frost Giants who have partnered with the Dark Elves to invade Earth and have destroyed all the other great heroes of the world.

Clearly the stakes are high in both of those stories. But for whatever reason, I just could not care less about them. I tried. I tried real hard, and I got nowhere.

So what should I do? I want to support diversity in comics, and I think that the nominal idea of having Captain America and Thor be represented by new and different characters is super cool, but I do not like these storylines and I don't really want to keep reading them. Should I keep buying them just for the sake of supporting them? Should I support them when I think they're badly written and kind of terrible?

Help.


Now, a big part of my frustration comes from the fact that the storylines in these comics are dense and hard to get into if you haven't been steeping in the larger Marvel-verse for a few decades. Compare them to something like Captain Marvel, which has very intentionally gone out and is creating new worlds, or Elektra, which is developing the old characters along new lines, or even Hawkeye, which has the same villains as usual but also a smattering of just life stuff and character development and Clint and Kate being terrible at adulthood, and Captain America and Thor both come off as if they're trying too hard.

Which I think they probably are. Marvel is a company that has always been very aware of diversity and aware of the positive values of aligning themselves with diverse groups, because that's where the money is. It's without a doubt in my mind that their decision to make Captain America black and Thor a woman was done with an increased audience and therefore increased sales in mind. And I'm okay with that. That's business.

But because they are focused on the business side of things so carefully, I think they got too caught up in the idea that "we have to treat these properties specially. The battles that the new Captain America and new Thor fight must be bigger and better and stronger battles." They don't want anyone to claim that because Thor is a woman they're giving her weaker enemies, or that they're implying that a black Captain America can't fight the same villains as white Cap. They don't want to say that, so they're making the stories as big and bold as possible.

Unfortunately, as I stated above, that doesn't work when I'm not invested in the characters yet. I don't really care, because they're both so new that I have yet to develop strong feelings about them as characters. I love Sam Wilson, but I don't know who he is as Captain America, and he's being thrown into this crazy intense storyline that I have trouble following, and it's hard not to just check out.

It's this intense focus on making sure that the stakes are suitably high that takes away from us learning about the characters as people. Contrast this with the new first issue of The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl, which follows a superhero I was only tangentially aware of fighting against a supervillain I'm not super familiar with and I loved it. It was amazing and full of character and a perfect first issue to get me invested in the story. Yeah, the stakes were really low, but that's okay, because now I know a lot more about Doreen and what being Squirrel Girl means to her.


Sam Wilson, on the other hand, really hasn't had much to do that isn't just fighting so far. It's been all action for three issues, and while that's good, I guess, it's not making me at all interested in him as a character. It doesn't feel like the story is about what he can bring to the idea of Captain America, it's just some supervillains and a lot of fights. It's meh. Very meh.

And while I like the idea of a slow reveal on who the new Thor is, in practice it's kind of a problem because if I have no idea who this chick is, it's pretty hard to give a crap about her. I have no emotional investment in this character because so far she has not a single shred of personality.

I honestly don't know if this means I'm giving up on the new Captain America and Thor, or if I'll wait another few issues and see. Right now I'm feeling pretty discouraged. Yes, there are other comics out there that are doing fantastic and have amazing representation, but these are two of Marvel's flagships. I mean, it's Captain freaking America and Thor, for crying out loud. It is so wonderful to have them be these new, different characters. And it sucks so hard that the stories just aren't very good.



*Since anyone who wields Mjolnir is Thor. It's a little screwy but just go with it because comics don't really get any less screwy.

Mixed Feelings, Oscar Formulas, and The Imitation Game

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The thing is, I'm of two very different minds when it comes to analyzing The Imitation Game. On the one hand, I saw this movie with my father during the Christmas break, and we both loved it. It's compelling, beautifully shot, well acted, well written, competently directed, gorgeous music, solid story, the works. It's a very well made movie about a reasonably interesting topic, and there's no real reason not to like it.

On the other hand, however, this movie bothers me because as a film person and as a woman who has spent literally all of her adult life analyzing media and cultural output, I can so clearly see the places where this film was manipulated into being catnip for the Oscars. Awards bait movies, we call them. The kind of film that Academy voters salivate over and just want to give all the awards for being "breathtaking" and "daring" and "unforgettable."

And it's hard to reconcile those two parts of myself. The gleeful, happy bit that's just glad that I got to see a really good movie, and the more cynical annoyed part that would like to point out to everyone precisely how this film has maneuvered itself to be the next big thing. How do I balance all of that? Do these things really matter equally? And what should I think of the film as a whole?

I don't know.

So for those of you who (unlike me) haven't been marinating in the film industry since high school, here's the problem: The Imitation Game is a lovely little film that follows the life and eventual death of one of science's unsung heroes, Alan Turing. Alan Turing is the one who essentially invented computing as we know it today, with a lot of help from the work of Ada Lovelace and others, and is generally considered the father of computer technology. His arguably greatest work was in creating a massive computer during WWII that could calculate through all the possible settings for an enigma code machine and break the German's code, allowing the Allies to read German communications and eventually win the war.

The reason he's an unsung hero is because after the war, Alan Turing and his fellow codebreakers (some of whom appear in the film) were bound by the official secrets act to never admit that they broke the enigma code, and Turing himself was found legally guilty of "indecency" (criminalized homosexuality) in the 1950s. He was subjected to chemical castration and later killed himself. The codebreaking program was only made public knowledge in 1995, and Turing wasn't legally pardoned by the British government until 2013. So although lots of people have known about what Turing did during the war roughly for half a century, it's not until recently that we've had details or been really able to talk about it.

The film, written by Andrew Hodges and Graham Moore and directed by Morten Tyldum, takes a narrow view of Turing's life, and focuses its sights on his work during the war, with occasional leaps in time to his childhood at school and later to the criminal investigation that ruined him.

Turing is played, as I'm sure you've learned, by Benedict Cumberbatch, who does a very good job at convincing us of his genius, but certainly plays up Turing's purported neurodivergence* and social ineptitude. Matthew Goode, Allen Leech, Matthew Beard, and James Northcote all do excellent jobs as Turing's fellow codebreakers, men who resent his genius at first but slowly come to love and respect him. 

Charles Dance and Mark Strong do admirable but perhaps expected turns as a gruff, antagonistic military commander in charge of the codebreaking program and an MI-6 operative respectively.

And of course there's Keira Knightley's character, Joan Clarke, an entirely fictional creation of the sort of women who actually really did exist but aren't recognized for their work - female codebreakers who were not allowed to work with the men in an official capacity but contributed greatly to the breaking of the code. Joan's presented as an amazing codebreaker, but because of "decency", the wishes of her parents, and the sexism of the time, Joan is forced to work as a glorified secretary at Bletchley, only helping Turing with his work late at night.

It gets more interesting when Joan's parents tire of her work on her career and insist she come home and get married, so Turing proposes to her instead, but ultimately this becomes the downfall of the whole film. 

It turns the story into one of a woman desperately in love with an enigmatic genius who will never love her back, and leads to some very clunky storytelling at the end as the film then tries to backtrack and explain why Alan Turing did not, in fact, marry this nice young woman who was perfectly okay with him being gay and just enjoyed being with him, a fate that would have saved him from the obscenity charge. It's not well done, and it's clearly an overreach on the part of the writers.

The bulk of the story follows what I outlined above, concentrating on Turing's arrival at Bletchley Park, his slow takeover of the codebreaking program, and the building of his first computer. The main action is about that computer, with everyone except Joan believing that Turing will never do it and it will never work. 

The climax of the film is when they figure out how to program the computer to break the code, but quickly realize that for security's reasons, they cannot actually reveal that they have broken the code. Instead, they have to only leak certain parts of the broken code to the military so that the German military will never realize they have broken the code and stop using it. Which is a common problem in cryptography but neither here nor there.

So that's the basic premise of the film. And I hope you can see how it's a compelling and lovely narrative that finally gives good credit to one Britain's most brilliant men while also recognizing the brutality of the law that prevented him from living his life to its full potential. It's a good movie.

But it's also a manipulative one, and I hope you can see that as well. See, the basic framework of this film is really nothing new to the average Academy voter or the audience. It's a movie about a super smart white guy who isn't good with people. No one believes in him at first but when he proves how brilliant and out of the box he is, with the help of a smart but not more smart woman who loves him unconditionally, he overcomes his obstacles and is super smart at everyone. Then something bad happens and he dies tragically, but with the knowledge that he was the smartest ever.

A Beautiful Mind. The Theory of Everything. October Sky. Pollock. My Left Foot. I can keep going.

It's clearly a thing. A very common, kind of annoying thing. Because, as you might notice, all of those films are ones that the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences (the people who do the Oscars) doted on. They're super popular and considered "high cinema". As if the best thing a film can aspire to be is a movie about a historical white guy with some kind of disadvantage proving that he's actually as smart as he thinks he is.

Taken on their own, for the record, these are all good movies. Each individually is the kind of film that I actually really like. But taken as a group, which they are, they paint a very frustrating picture of the film industry.

It's not that I think The Imitation Game is a bad movie. I don't, because it isn't. But I do feel like the narrative was tweaked here and there to make it fit more neatly into this framework.

It doesn't actually make sense for Turing to have a female love interest to support and guide him, since he was gay, but the film shoves one in there anyway. It's like no one knows how to make this movie any other way, without conforming to all the stereotypes of how films about geniuses are supposed to work.

Geniuses are supposed to be a bit hard to get along with. Didn't we learn that from Dr. House? Alan Turing was actually, according to his colleagues, pretty well liked and friendly. But that doesn't work for the narrative of the film, so they made him a social outcast. The film shifted and finagled and sometimes lied in order to make itself fit the mold. And clearly it paid off, because the movie's been nominated for eight Academy Awards. Was it worth it?

Perhaps the best distillation of this whole issue is the end of the film, where an older Joan goes to visit Turing during his recovery after the indecency trial, when he's been chemically castrated and can barely function. Because while that is a recorded part of Turing's life, and definitely one that should be included in the film, the movie actually does a pretty bad job dealing with it. 

It shows Turing, now shaky and sick looking, still working and being a genius and stuff, but completely glosses over the real problems he faced. He was sick, yes, and he also gained about a hundred pounds from the drugs they had him on. But that wouldn't look good for an Oscar nominee. It's not flattering. And so it wasn't included. Stuff like that, it bothers me.

And on another issue entirely, while I resent Joan's place in the narrative structure of this film, because I hate the idea of shoving a love interest in there willy nilly, I loved her character and I would like to see an entire film just about her. 

A movie about the women who were legally barred from doing the work the men did in codebreaking but did it anyway. Give me a film just about Joan and her sisters in arms, and I would watch it in a heartbeat. But make her second fiddle in a movie where she isn't allowed to be smarter than the male protagonist, and it bothers me a lot.

I suppose when we come down to it, none of this frustration really takes away from the fact that I did enjoy the film. But, on the other hand, my enjoyment of it doesn't make the film any less cynical and manipulative. It's both. I don't really know how to reconcile myself to that, but I don't think I have much of a choice.

Seriously though. An awards bait movie about sexism in the war effort in WWII. Someone get on that.
*Alan Turing is one of those historical figures that people like to claim was autistic or on the autistic spectrum, and he well might have been, but we really have no way of knowing.

Think of the Children! Tuesday: Enchanted and Valuing Beauty

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Okay, full disclosure to start us off here: I totally am stealing this entire article idea from a post I saw on tumblr. Sue me. But I was looking at this collection of gifs again yesterday afternoon, because it's a post that has been circling the internets for a while, and I realized that it really encapsulates everything I love about Enchanted in one handy, easy to read place. 

I mean, yes, there are other things I love in it, like how inventive the film is, how much fun it has playing with the form, the whole idea of fairytale romance being unhealthy and the more messy human relationships actually being better for their increased depth, but this is probably my favorite part of the movie. I love that Giselle, Disney Princess Giselle, thinks everyone is beautiful.

It's not one of the main themes of the movie, but it does come up a fair amount. For the sake of argument here, I'm going to assume that all of you have seen Enchanted at some point and are roughly familiar with the plot. If you aren't, I'm not going to take the time to explain it today, so you can read up here.

As we come into the film, for the first twenty minutes or so, Giselle (Amy Adams) is more or less what we expect from a Disney Princess protagonist. She's lovely, inside and out, a little naive and very sweet. Badness befalls her because she instinctively trusts everyone around her, and her reactions to the brave new world of New York City are exactly what you expect them to be. Nothing new or newsworthy so far.

The moment I realized that Giselle was something different actually came around the half hour mark of the film, when Giselle, having been taken in by Robert (Patrick Dempsey) and his daughter Morgan (Rachel Covey), takes a shower for the first time ever. It goes about as well as can be expected and leads to Giselle and Robert being in an unfortunately compromising position when his girlfriend, Nancy (Idina Menzel) walks in.

Nancy is pretty unthrilled to find her boyfriend pinned down by a semi-naked woman, but that ire turns to sheer confusion when Giselle is just so incredibly thrilled to meet her. Like, over the top excited to meet Nancy. Nancy, who is a brass tacks New York kind of woman, is pretty uncomfortable with all this hoopla and quickly leaves. It's as Nancy is leaving and Giselle is watching her go that we get to hear what Giselle really thinks of Nancy, and it is, simple, "Oh, she's lovely!"

And I know that sounds pretty basic and not noteworthy, but the thing is, it is noteworthy. It's worthy of note because it's incredibly rare for two women, especially in a Disney Princess movie, to view each other with that kind of appreciation and joy. It's important because right off the bat it makes it clear that this movie is absolutely not going to devolve into a catfight between the two of them for Robert. It refuses to be that base. Instead, we're going to get a narrative about two women respecting the hell out of each other and building a friendship based on mutual appreciation. Awww yeah.

So that's pretty good to start with, but it gets even better when, later that morning, Robert walks Giselle to his law firm so he can look her up and hopefully send her back home. As they're walking, Giselle gets distracted staring at a statue, and when Robert asks her why, she tells him that the woman in the statue is just so beautiful!*

Again, seems innocuous, until you realize that the statue in question is a very large fertility icon, rendered in bronze (I think). The woman in the statue isn't your average "Classical beauty", with the toned limbs and athletic stance of Graeco-Roman statuary, or the elongated form of Egyptian art, or even a modernist interpretation of either. Nope, it's a fertility icon, a statue of a woman with enormous breasts and a huge butt, giant thighs tapering down to little feet and a generous belly hanging above it all. And Giselle takes one look at it and is fixated by how beautiful it is.

Hell yes.

Then, at the law firm later, Giselle is supposed to be waiting quietly, but that's basically impossible for her, and when she sees a client come over, she has to say something. The women, who is African-American, middle-aged, and currently going through a divorce (hence why she's visiting her divorce attorney), is a bit dubious about going over to talk to the crazy lady by the window, but obliges. Giselle just can't help blurting out that she loves the woman's hair (which is done in gorgeous curling braids) and that she thinks this woman is absolutely stunning.

We as the audience get to watch this woman's whole face change as she realizes that Giselle means it completely. Wholeheartedly. And this woman, who was having a pretty rough day up to this point, suddenly feels beautiful and loved and delighted in. She lights up. And then Giselle saves her marriage and makes her very very happy and it's honestly almost painfully wonderful to watch.

There are more scenes like this too. In the park, Giselle sings a song about making sure that people know you love them, and in part of her song she tells a bunch of elderly women how lovely they are and invites them to get up and dance. She frolics in fields and shows women of all colors and shapes and sizes and backgrounds exactly how gorgeous she finds them. Because Giselle genuinely believes that every single woman, no matter what, is beautiful. And every man is handsome. No arguments.

Sure, there's something a little disingenuous about having the message of the film be how gorgeous every single woman is when the protagonist is an incredibly conventionally attractive white woman with pale skin, a flat stomach, and big blue eyes. But in a weird way, I actually appreciate it more for that fact. Hear me out. Because Giselle is exactly what we consider the standard of beauty, it makes it feel more significant that she keeps trying to share it.

You know? Because Giselle is considered beautiful, her awareness of others' beauty feels unforced and honest. She's not aware of people being beautiful because she's consciously fighting a beauty standard but because she just really finds everyone beautiful. It's a case of a woman using her privilege in exactly the right ways. And it's great.

What makes it even better, though, for me at least, is the fact that this movie is a kids' movie. I mean, there's really no question about that. It's a movie with a comedic chipmunk sidekick and a heroine who makes dresses out of curtains unironically. It's a movie for children. And it's a movie for children where the protagonist goes out of her way to make sure that all the women she meets feel appreciated, loved, and cherished. Talk about sending good messages!

In a very real sense, I think this aspect of the movie hits me so hard because it doesn't actually have to be there for the film to make sense. It has nothing to do with the plot, and as we can tell from the lack of this in most other Disney films, it's not really something the studio finds necessary to the telling of a good story. Sadly. So its inclusion here means something. It means that the writers, director, and actors were all making a statement about how every woman is beautiful and how every woman should know how beautiful she is.

I get really frustrated with Disney movies sometimes. A lot of the time. Most of the time. And by and large I don't come down favorably on the whole Disney Princess thing. But this is my exception. I love this movie. It's the kind of film I will happily show my future children, because I think that the messages it sends are good and valid and worth learning. 

I want my children and every child really to know that a woman is beautiful simply because she exists and that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so behold it everywhere. I want my kids to know that and to live their lives like Giselle does, full in the knowledge of how loved and cherished they are, and ready to bestow that on others.

Because, and that's the key here, the reason Giselle is so comfortable telling every single woman she meets how beautiful she is, is because Giselle herself knows exactly how beautiful she is. Not in a snooty or self-involved way, but in the confident, happy way we all want. The simple knowledge that she is beautiful allows her to see that everyone else is too. And man do I want that, for me and for my children.

Giselle is the hero of this movie, and as such she's the one that every little kid watching wants to be. With great power comes great responsibility, and for once it's so wonderful to see a movie where that responsibility is taken seriously. Kids learn what we teach them, consciously and unconsciously. How happy, then, to see a movie that teaches them to love each other well.

Unfortunately, I'm usually more of a Robert in these situations.
*Giselle, like Thor, always speaks in sentences that require extra punctuation. It's one of the many things I like about her.

RECAP: Strange Empire 1x02 - The Bad Decision Brigade

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Another Wednesday, and we're back in the grips of some super uplifting television! All right! And by that I mean, for the next few weeks we're going to be recapping episodes from Strange Empire's premiere season. Strange Empire, which is still currently airing its first season, is a Canadian show that calls itself a "feminist Western". By that it means that it's a Western, but one primarily concerned with telling the stories of women and their lives on the frontier. It's not a perfect show, as we discussed in last week's recap of episode one, but it is worth looking at.

Last week, if you recall, had us meeting all of the characters and set up the central narrative arc of the season. All our characters were traveling from Montana up into the New Canada where they hoped to set up farms and settle on the frontier. Plans changed, though, when a group of Indians* attacked their camp and killed or captured all the men.

Now the women are lost and abandoned on their own, only to be taken in by the not particularly kind or caring Captain Slotter, who owns the local whorehouse. Slotter offers them a place to stay but just might turn them all to whoring, and he's also in a furious battle with our heroine, Kat, over the fate of two orphan girls that Slotter claims he bought and paid for and Kat insists are her adopted daughters.

Also Slotter might have been behind the attack that killed all the men and not the Indians after all.

Which brings us to this week! We open on Kat burning sage as she stands out in the woods. She's lost, out of it, and when she sees a figure walking towards her along the road, her heart leaps. "Jeremiah?" But it's not her lost husband. It's Isabelle's keeper/assistant/whoever that guy is, the Asian-American man we've seen hanging around the Slotters. What's he doing out in the woods in the middle of the day by himself?

Probably nothing good. And it seems that Kat agrees.

But she has other things to think about. As Kelly reminds her, stepping up all dressed as a boy with a cap pulled down low over her face, they need to leave before Captain Slotter starts looking for them. He's going to be pretty pissed off when he realizes that his two new whores are gone.

Back at Janestown, there's a wagon pulling off, taking some of the women away, but not everyone. As the driver yells, "No money, no ride." Most of the women have no means with which to get themselves away from this place, so when the driver knocks their belongings overboard, they have no choice but to follow and pray that someone delivers them. Rebecca stands there watching it all, coolly looking down on the railroad men who are fighting over some lost belongings and at the busyness of the camp.

She too has other things to do, though. This episode seems to be about the women picking up and moving on after the tragedy of last week. Rebecca's still got her husband, for all that she might not want him very much, and the next scene finds her sterilizing his nasty leg wound with a fire iron. Between the gash in his leg and his lingering concussion, Thomas is really not in any shape to be going anywhere, but he's determined that Rebecca go find the wagon driver and get them both out of there. They have to leave. Now.

Rebecca suspects something is funky, because she's a genius, and she presses Thomas for information. Did he see something the night they were attacked? Does he know something and that's why he's so insistent they leave? It would make sense. If Captain Slotter was behind the attack and discovered that one of the survivors is hiding in his own bunkhouses he would probably be a little bit pissed and more than a little bit ready to kill the survivor...

Thomas is probably right that they should get the hell out of there.

Mrs. Fogg stands in the center of the bustle, watching and probably thinking about how she doesn't have the same luxuries they do. She doesn't get to leave Janestown because she really is a Jane. But she's also a very kind woman, and she steps up to two of the women not leaving, Mrs. Briggs (Anne Marie DeLuise) and her daughter Fiona (Ali Liebert from Bomb Girls). Mrs. Briggs refuses to leave Janestown until her men are found, and Fiona holds out some hope that her husband is still alive. But it's not looking good.

Mrs. Briggs is kind of a hard woman, but Mrs. Fogg isn't going to stop that from her trying to befriend them. She wants friends. I don't blame her either. So Mrs. Fogg offers them cake and the two women certainly aren't going to refuse (though Mrs. Briggs looks like she wants to for a moment).

Before we can settle into that scene, though, our eyes are drawn over to the other side of camp where a wagon is pulling off and a young woman, Miss Logan (Christie Burke) is chasing after it. It seems she didn't have money for the fare, and so she's being left behind. Man, that stinks. 

Even worse, Slotter's right hand man, Jared (Michael Adamthwaite) is there to make everyone feel worse about themselves by trying to scare the women with talk of how the Indians are still out there. He tells horror stories about what the Indians do to women, but Miss Logan isn't going to take that. She just looks at him coolly and says, "I believe you're thinking of Apaches, sir. This here is Cree territory."

By which we are to understand that while Miss Logan might be trapped in a strange place, by herself, and with no money, she's not going to let some jerk scare her or try to make her think things she doesn't already know herself. I like her.

Out in the woods again, Kat has taken her girls somewhere they can hide safely while she goes out to search for Jeremiah and Neill. She swears she'll be back, and Robin believes her, but Kelly's more resistant. Kelly is, after all, the more cynical of the two girls, and more prone to fears of abandonment. Kat insists she's coming back. She just has to know for sure if they're dead or not before she moves on. I can understand that. And she really doesn't want her girls seeing the slaughtered bodies in the woods.

Back in civilization (or what passes for it), Isabelle lays a bouquet of flowers at her daughters grave, which has been moved from the front yard of the whorehouse to somewhere more appropriate and further away. The headstone reads "Ada", and it's clear that there's still some pretty hefty dysfunction going on in the Slotter marriage. Isabelle is mourning, but all Slotter can talk about is the investors she has coming. Hopefully they'll put some money into the mine.

Which at least gives us a little more information on what Slotter's up to. His father has him stationed out there to build the railroad, but he has his own agenda and has bought up a coal mine. But he needs money to run it, and the whorehouses just aren't paying well enough. Hence investors. Clever. Or not, since it doesn't seem to be working.

Isabelle is nominally on board with all of this, but she thinks that the women in the cribs, the women whose loved ones are all dead, are putting a pall over the whole operation. Their dead cry out, and she can hear them. Still, it's a chance Slotter is willing to take, because he really doesn't want them to be under his father's control any longer. So his father must be one hell of a terrible guy.

The time has come for Rebecca and Thomas to be off, it seems. Rebecca is fretting about how Thomas will remain upright during the wagon ride, as it's hard for him to even move and he needs to not lie down or else his head will get worse, but the main concern is how painful it's going to be for him to travel. Still, Thomas is ready to get the hell out of there.

Rebecca's given the wallet and told to pay the driver, which is interesting since we know from context that this might be the first time she's ever handled money in her life. The driver asks for fifteen dollars to take them to the station house and then ten for himself to get back, and we can tell this isn't what was agreed upon, but Thomas isn't saying a word. He's really terrified of Slotter finding him then. Rebecca reluctantly forks over the cash.

Also the driver is super creepy and is giving Rebecca sex eyes which make her uncomfortable and putting his hands all over her waist. It's telling that as they drive off in the wagon, Rebecca turns and looks back at Mrs. Fogg and Mrs. Briggs sitting with their cake and it almost looks like she's longing to be with them and not going away.

Kat's found the site of the slaughter, and all the bodies of the men who were killed. But try as she might as she goes through, she can't find Jeremiah or Neill. They're not here. Only Jeremiah's hat remains, the one that matched her own. She cries, silently, and calls out for her husband. But nothing.

Looks like it's story time for the women on the porch. Mrs. Fogg is worried that the women still left over, the ones who haven't been able to pay someone to take them away, will end up like her: whores. She explains that she started her life as a lady's maid, but when the lady's husband sexually assaulted her she was fired and the only work she could find after that was in prostitution. She's especially worried about one woman in particular, an older girl whose mother and sisters left this morning but who left her behind. She's "ripe for the picking", but there's not much they can do.

Mrs. Briggs, it seems, has finally warmed up to her new neighbor, and offers her tea. It's a simple offer but Mrs. Fogg is just barely concealing her joy and relief at being given it. She so desperately wants friends. I hope this works out for her.

Isabelle rides over towards the camp, her fist full of silk ribbons. Her horse is led, because apparently she's either not trusted to ride on her own or Slotter thinks she's not capable, by the Asian-American guy. Dialogue reveals that he's her bodyguard and that he came out to help her set up a telegraph. Interesting. They chat about her investors - both of them are doing well financially, so if she plays her cards right they should put money down - as they ride up.

Also, and this hasn't actually come up yet but it's driving me nuts so I looked it up, the man's name is Ling (Terry Chen). Just so I don't keep having to call him "that guy who's always hanging around Isabelle."

Isabelle disembarks from her horse and it becomes clear what she and Ling are there to do: recruit whores for the house. A silk ribbon for your soul, as Mrs. Briggs would probably say. She seems the type. Isabelle offers Fiona a place up at the house, and even says that Mrs. Briggs could find herself some work at the cribs. But Mrs. Briggs has a spine made of iron, and she refuses. She's not the type to be bought with a silk ribbon, and I'm betting Fiona isn't either. If only because her mother (mother-in-law maybe, I'm not sure) is terrifying.

Kelly and Robin are still in the woods, still bored, and definitely hungry. Sounds like a recipe for trouble. While Robin insists that they should stay where Kat told them to, because she's their Ma and she promised she'd be back, Kelly is insistent that Kat's abandoned them and they'll have to fend for themselves now. She's off eating wild berries and filling up her pockets. And then they see a rabbit.

The girls have a slingshot but absolutely no skill using it. They do, however, have enough ability to tell that the rabbit isn't moving, not even when Robin runs up and grabs it. Because it's dead. And now she's stumbled into a rope net trap and there's growling in the bushes. Oh noes!

It looks like a bear - though what bear ever set a rope snare I don't know - but it's actually just a guy in a bearskin hat. Like, literally a skinned bear on his head. He's a strange man. But he's not about to murder the girls, so that's good.

Out on the road, Rebecca's fears about the driver are coming true. Thomas is in some sort of fugue state - sleeping or worse - and the driver has stopped the wagon to demand "further payment". That's not good.

Yup, nope, it's definitely not good. While Rebecca frets over Thomas, who has slipped down during the journey and is now lying flat, a position that could lead to sustained problems with his head wound, the driver is intently coming up behind her and pulling her into an unwanted dance. He's going to rape her, and while Rebecca is a brilliant doctor, this is not a situation for which she is prepared.

She pushes at him, tries to get away, and he pulls down her skirt. But they both pull up at the sound of gunshots. It's Thomas, who's woken to the sound of his wife's screams and is wildly shooting, trying to hit her assailant. Unfortunately Thomas is no gunhand and he's got a concussion to boot. The driver goes up to the wagon and beats Thomas while Rebecca tries to run after the gun, which has gone flying. But before she can fire it, another shot rings out and the driver's hat flies off his head.

It's Kat, riding in like the proverbial knight on a black horse, and she utters the most badass line all episode: "I aimed high." The driver takes this for the warning it is and sprints for the hills, leaving Thomas and Rebecca in shambles, but alive and mostly unassaulted.

Rebecca asks Kat for her help to get them back to camp, since she clearly has no idea what she's doing and Kat clearly does. But Kat is relatively unsympathetic. She's got her own problems to deal with, and needs to be getting back to her girls. Besides, Kat's done well enough fending for herself. Why should Rebecca get to be weak? Why can't she pull her own weight? Kat's attitude, though frustrating in the moment, is rather understandable. But then so too is Rebecca's.

And Rebecca really does need help. She's struggling to process what just happened, as well as reeling from Kat's accusations against Slotter. She needs more time to put it all through her mental ringer - why would Slotter offer to help them if he's trying to hurt them? 

Again, Kat has little sympathy, but in contrast to her harsh words, she hops down off her horse and helps Rebecca get Thomas back into the wagon while she lectures. Kat points out that Rebecca put herself "in the hands of a helpful man this morning". If she does it again, she'll end up the same place: assaulted and miserable and lost. Kat clearly has a high opinion of helpful men. Sadly, she's probably right.

And speaking of helpful men, we cut now back to the girls and their newfound bear-headed friend, who introduces himself as Jolly Jack (Alex Zahara). He's weird. He is, however, probably kind. Or kind enough. When Kelly introduces them as, "I'm Joe. She's Frank." He just sort of hums and keeps going. So clearly he doesn't actually mind that they're definitely girls and also terrible liars. He just keeps on going with his spiel and offers them some food. Or he's planning to exploit them later.

Or maybe it'll be a mutual exploitation. Jack tries to wow the girls with a magic trick, pulling a candy from behind Robin's ear, but Kelly just turns it right back around on him and does the trick to him. Same thing goes for a card trick. And Jack slowly realizes that he has somehow, in the woods, stumbled across two very clever fingersmiths with time on their hands. The girls don't mind either. And they all hatch a plan to go cheat some miners out of their money.

Like I said above, this is definitely the episode of bad life choices. So far no one is really making good decisions, except perhaps Mrs. Fogg, and it's all come back to bite them in the butt. I hold out little hope for this venture. But at least the girls are happy.

Rebecca and Kat have succeeded in getting Thomas into the wagon, and now Kat is off to get her girls. She reveals that she found Mrs. Briggs' boys and husband among the dead, but not her own, and asks Rebecca to bring Mrs. Brigg their horse. Small comfort, but useful. And then Kat is off, leaving Rebecca to get herself, now calmer, back to Janestown. They might still disagree with each other fundamentally, but at least Kat isn't shouting anymore.

In the kitchen at the whorehouse, the girl from camp, the one whose mother and sisters left her there to die, is inhaling a breakfast while the cook looks on in curiosity. The cook, Ruby (Marci T. House), gently interrogates her and sort of laughs a little when we find that the girl is in fact super racist. Her momma told her that black people were the devil. And Ruby rolls her eyes at that, points out that she's feeding a girl her own family left to die. 

She does, however, turn the racism around on Ling, who's watching their conversation with interest. She calls him a "yellow devil" and recites a bunch of clearly untrue facts about him coming from the Forbidden City and being a right hand to the emperor, etc. Ling is clearly not thrilled about this, and retaliates by scaring the hell out of the girl and talking about death. Nice.

Isabelle and Slotter are ready for the investors. Or, at least as ready as they'll ever be. They only have one whore working - the girl in the kitchen, Mary (Anja Savcic). The other investor will get to sleep with Isabelle herself, something that clearly doesn't thrill Isabelle but according to Slotter, can't be helped. This does feel a little bit like a continuity error, actually. Weren't there like four whores there yesterday? And what happened to all those investors that were around the day before? Did they put in money? I'm confused.

But whatever. I'll go with it. And I guess it's not whoring that Isabelle's supposed to do with this guy: Ling is there for a reason, and apparently that reason is to put on a fake spiritualist act for the men. One of the investors has recently lost his father, which Isabelle knows because of the telegraph, and she's going to wow him with her ability to know things she shouldn't and then get him to give them all his money. Good plan. 

She does dose the plan with a touch of warning, though: she heard the real spirits that morning, and they're crying out for Slotter's death. She doesn't know why, and he pushes it off, but I'd guess that this is a big hint about the probability of Kat being right about who killed those men.

The investors arrive. They both know Isabelle pretty well, unhappily well, and are a little nonplussed to meet her husband alongside her. Slotter is even less happy to be hanging out with them, so it's just misery all around. We do get some more backstory at least: Slotter's father is famous and a well known investor. But he's not invested in Slotter's mine. Which means that either the mine is untenable, or he just doesn't know. Good to remember.

Isabelle gets to work quickly on the one whose father died, letting him know that she knows his father's dead and she will help him reach his father for instructions on what to do. Slotter, meanwhile, is still all caught up about the missing girls, and sends Jared to go get them. 

Speaking of missing girls, Kat comes back to where she left them and finds the girls gone, of course. It's a rough moment for Kat, especially since she spent all day not being able to find her husband and son. But we cut quickly to where the girls actually are: standing behind a bunch of men playing cards and helping Jack cheat. Nice. Keeping with the theme of terrible life choices.

Kat gets back to Janestown and sees Mrs. Briggs there too, tending to her horse. The girls, however, are not there. Kat gives Mrs. Briggs her condolences, and offers to take her out to her boys when the time comes, but then she's off to keep looking.

Good thing too, because it seems that Jack and the girls' luck is just about out. He's won too much and the miners are getting suspicious. Not good. Very not good. The girls have been spotted, and while Kat's also running up, it's almost too late. The miners don't take well to cheaters and want the girls to each lose a hand. When Kat rescues them it's short lived, because right after that we get Slotter and Jared riding up and grabbing the girls. Seriously. Bad life choices week.

Kat won't take kindly to the girls being whored out, and makes the ultimate sacrifice. She offers herself in their stead. And Slotter accepts.

More bad news. Jared rides through Janestown and announces to the women that as of that day, the women owe rent for their continued stay in the bunkhouses. If they have no money, then they'll have to pay another way - by being whores. Miss Logan is the first to discover this. She's not happy.

Isabelle is also not happy to see that Slotter's brought the girls and their mother to the house. Ruby gives Kat a compassionate glance and tells her she'll make sure the girls are well looked after. But Kat is not mollified. She refuses to let Slotter and Isabelle claim she's there of her own free will. She is only there to stop the prostitution of her children. Isabelle doesn't like Kat's attitude. Or the way her husband looks at Kat.

Upstairs, Isabelle makes Kat strip and tells her that she's going to be there five years making up what the girls would have made. And then she twists the knife further by insisting that her husband didn't kill those men. But a naked Kat is still a dangerous one, and she strikes. She insists again that Slotter is the one who did it, while choking Isabelle barehanded. Kat's a little terrifying and I love it.

In the other room, Ruby is trying desperately to give Mary a bath. It's not going well, because Mary is fighting her at every step. And finally we see why: Mary is pregnant. Really pregnant. About nine months pregnant. And whoops, there goes her water breaking. As Isabelle walks in, Ruby looks up and informs her that Mary won't be working tonight. She's "already occupied."

Slotter walks his investors through the railroad project and up to the mine. I don't really care about this plotline, but it's worth paying attention to, I guess. Slotter's father is building the railroad, but Slotter himself is digging out a coal mine, so that when the train comes through he'll have lots of cheap coal to sell it. He wants to build himself an empire.

And we finally find out what the title of the show means when the investor he's addressing comments on his plan: "Indians, Negroes, and Celestials - it'll be a strange empire of yours." What's interesting about this, to me at least, is how it positions the characters and this world as being that of the subaltern, the people no one wants anywhere else. It's a world of women and people of color, and the whole point of the show is that up here on the frontier, there's no one to enforce the social strictures and racism and sexism that persecute them in "civilization." There's freedom in the strange empire, if you can survive.

Hot damn I love this show.

Anyway, Thomas and Rebecca are back at the bunkhouse and Thomas is urging Rebecca again to keep out of Slotter's business. She's not at all okay with the girls being captured again. Thomas insists that Rebecca stay out of it. "What happened on the road today should be a lesson to you," he says, in the least helpful advice since Princeton Mom. "You are not capable."

Well. Rebecca is not taking that lying down. Especially from the man that she's waiting on hand and foot just to keep alive, and especially not after she just survived an attack and then got them back to camp on her own. So when Ruby bursts in, asking for a doctor because there's a baby that can't find its way out, Rebecca stands up, leaves Thomas behind, and goes off to do her thing. You go girl.

Mary's labor is not going well. The baby's too big and it's facing the wrong way. A breach birth. If they can't get the baby out, Mary will die, and neither Ruby nor Rebecca is willing to let that happen. So I guess Rebecca is going to get her chance to try out a Caesarian section. She hands Ruby a needle and some surgical thread, asks if she can sew, and then holds up a really big scalpel. "Have you done this before?" Ruby's all skepticism and mild terror.

"No." And Rebecca is matter of fact in the face of certain doom. Well, this should be interesting at the very least.

Cut to downstairs, where Isabelle and Ling are working their "magic" on the investor whose father just died. The scene is pretty much an example of how spiritualists milked people for their money, using special effects and basic conning skills. The upshot is that Isabelle tells the guy that his father wants him to invest in the mine. 

Back upstairs, Slotter has come to visit Kat. She thinks he's there to rape her, and tells him to get it over with. And he's all, "Hey, no, let's be friends!" Which is hilarious, because she keeps accusing him of murder and he thinks she's the worst thing in the world. Kat might be locked up in a whorehouse and she might be set to whore herself out that night, but she will not let them break her. She will not stop her accusations, and she will not be his doll. Good for her.

Ruby comes out into the hall to let Isabelle know how the birth went - apparently Rebecca managed to save both mother and child by lifting the entire womb out with the child still inside. Then she just stitched Mary back up. So Mary won't be able to have any more children, but she's alive. And she had a boy.

Isabelle is most interested in this last piece of information. Not sure why.

While they clean Rebecca's surgical instruments, Ruby asks Rebecca to stay for dinner. She's fan. She thinks Rebecca is great and I don't blame her, because Rebecca is great. Rebecca is also shocked to see Kat in the house too, especially dressed in her underwear and with her hair braided into pigtails. It's weird. And Rebecca is clearly having a "does not compute" moment.

Isabelle likes how Kat is made up and points out that she could pass for Indian. Because she is one? Are we supposed to be pretending we don't know that?

Anyway, Rebecca's walking quickly back to the bunkhouses when a man comes out of nowhere - it might be the driver, but frankly I can't tell - and says she'll be needing his "services" tonight. Rebecca's not in a place to be trifled with, and at the first hint of a threat she reaches out and stabs the man through the jugular. He spurts blood all over her apron. Fortunately, she just performed a surgery so no one will find that weird. But yeah, that guy's dead now. Like super dead. And Rebecca is just having a really bad day.

Another man pops up behind her and she brandishes her scalpel. But the man, who we will later learn is Franklyn Caze (Teach Grant), just tells her to go home. Leave the dying man to him. He'll take care of it. So Rebecca does.

She comes back into the bunkhouse, clearly upset, and Thomas assumes the worst: that the mother and baby have died. But she is happy to tell him that both of them survived and that yeah, she left the woman barren, but alive. Thomas is clearly having a minor breakdown, because he takes one look at Rebecca and hands her his wallet. There is a thousand dollars in it, and she's to go up to the house and ask Slotter to arrange her travel back to Toronto. He's in no state to go, but at least Rebecca should get out of there while she still can.

So, yes, Thomas can be a jerk sometimes, but he does pull stuff like this every once in a while, which reminds me why I like him. He's willing to risk everything to get his wife home safe. Even if it's without him. Granted, he does it in the most insulting way possible...

At the house, Jack walks himself in and offers Isabelle his services for the night. He can play the fiddle or do a magic show! Surely they could use that. Isabelle shuts him down, but before he's even out the door, Rebecca is barging in, fist full of her money to travel home and asking if she can buy the girls and Kat from Slotter wholesale. If she does, he'll have no more claim to them, and therefore they'll be safe, right?

Isabelle, surprised to say, is actually entertaining the idea. My guess is that she really doesn't want Kat in the same house as her husband, especially not when she's in a mood to tell everyone how he murdered a bunch of people and ready to strangle people. But more than that, Isabelle can see that Slotter wants Kat. Wants her because he absolutely cannot have her and cannot break her, and Isabelle does not want this threat to her marriage sticking around. So she takes the money and asks Jack if he has a suit.

And now we're in the whorehouse parlor where the show is about to start. The men are ready and in good spirits when Isabelle opens the curtains on the stage and introduces "Mrs. True Loving". Aka, Kat, in full buckskin attire, with the girls walking in front of her clothed in wolfskins. Because there's only one Kat and two men, they get to bid for her. And the bidding goes quick as Isabelle circles the room and gives a huge big story about how Kat was raised by Indians (probably true), rides a fierce stallion (actually true), is sworn to find her husband's killer (definitely true), and other such things.

Then, something weird happens. The front door opens and Jack wanders in, laughing and being a weirdo. He's got on a lovely suit and inserts himself into the bidding. He also goes up to the front and claims to be the girls' father and Kat's husband resurrected! He pulls out a wad of cash and offers one thousand dollars for the girls. 

Then one of the men actually ups his bid, and it looks for a second like the story might be over. Only, with a nod from Isabelle, Jack goes up again, to twelve hundred dollars, and the girls are bought. They're saved. Yay!

But where the hell did another two thousand dollars come from?

In the kitchen, Rebecca thinks she's lost, but finds that the money has already been spent to save the girls. She's very happy. And Isabelle reveals that, yes, the rest of the money came from her. She just wants them all gone. Now.

Kat and the girls come out in their normal clothes and Kat points out that this makes the third time Rebecca has saved them. She's grateful, so grateful, in her emotionally constipated way.

And it seems that losing Mrs. True Loving hasn't dampened the evening much if at all. Jack's still there, playing the fiddle, and the men are dancing with other whores (so I guess I was right and there are other women around). One of those women is Miss Logan, who seems to be taking to her new life fairly well if not entirely happily yet.

Isabelle brings Slotter the money and reveals that she's happy Kat and the girls are gone, which he can accept. She's a disruptive influence and it's better they have the money instead of her. Neither of the investors decided to invest, which I guess stinks, because apparently they were only there to see Isabelle. That's all they really wanted. And Slotter knows it.

But Isabelle has more tricks up her sleeve. She sent a telegram to Slotter's father to tell him that their baby was born. Only instead of telling the truth, that their baby was a girl, born dead, she lied and said it's a very healthy baby boy. Mary's baby boy. They're going to take the child and raise it as their own and never tell anyone. I'll give it to her, she's good.

It seems that as much as Isabelle enjoys tricking rich men out of their wallets with her own spiritualist effects, she's also pretty much a believer herself. She drinks Mary's milk so as to make herself able to feed the child (it probably won't work, as we now know, but it's decent logic for the time) and thinks she hears spirits speaking to her in the parlor. But it's just Ling messing with her.

Rebecca, Kat, and the girls walk back to the bunkhouse, and as they go, Rebecca turns to the side to see Caze digging the man's grave. Neither of them speak, but both know what happened.

And back in the bunkhouse, in an echo of last week, Kat watches over her girls as they sleep. But this time there's little hope. She's tired and sad and feels like the world is crushing her down. End of episode.

Blarg. That was a bleak one, wasn't it? But at the same time, I actually kind of like how bleak this show can get. It gives the moments when the women triumph more power. Also, I appreciate the fact that the show presents all life on the frontier as bleak, not just all female life as miserable. It's all terrible, pretty equally.

The theme of the week, though, was clearly questionable decision making. From Robin and Kelly deciding to wander from where Kat left them and get themselves into gambling to Rebecca's decision first to trust the driver and then to murder that man, to Isabelle's entire existence which seems like one dubious choice after another, this week we focussed on decisions that feel necessary at the time, but later turn out to be terrible choices.

I can only hope that the coming weeks are kinder to our girls, but that's not to say that this week was entirely unkind. Rebecca proved her mettle and prowess as a surgeon by performing a surgery Thomas claimed as impossible. Kat showed how far she was willing to go for her daughters, and you can bet they won't doubt her again. And Isabelle, for all that she's kind of amoral and really clever, showed that she does have a heart and is willing to sacrifice to help a woman in need.

But most of all, we were introduced to the idea that this land, the frontier, is the place where everyone society tramples on can find a place to live and breathe and find new life. And that's a good theme. So here's to more of that next week.

You are more than a little terrifying and I love you.
*Like I said last week, I am aware that the more politically correct and preferred term would be Native Americans or American Indians, but the show uses "Indian" as its blanket term, and in recapping it's just simpler to stick with that.
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