Regarding Ramona

The problem with Scott Pilgrim vs. The World is that there was a severe lack of Ramona using her hammer.

Which was kick ass.

Thus one can understand why I wanted to see her whip that sucker out and start whaling on her "evil" exes herself.

It's not really surprising that my problems with Scott Pilgrim as a film is its presentation of gender. And it bugs me because I really think that they were trying to deconstruct a lot of the annoying constructions that populate the typical rom-com/action movie.

First, Ramona: I know they excused her passivity with the Gideon-chip (which, btw, should have had more screen time), but I would have liked more than a few second reference to it in which she just glosses over it with her fingers.

I would have really liked to have seen her actively fighting against it.

Second, the Evil Exes: I understand that the conceit of the film is that Gideon has some issues regarding relationships and women in particular. In this way, he never gets over the idea (unlike Scott, supposedly) that women are objects to be fought over, won, etc. Thus it is in character that he would view it as necessary that the exes fight Scott because, in his perspective, the woman has no agency in a relationship at all.

However, the movie doesn't fully succeed in rebutting this idea. The Evil Exes represent to some extent Ramona's emotional baggage -- not Scott's. Thus, though Scott defeats the exes, he's essentially fighting her battles for her. At the end of the movie, she's still running.

It's frustrating because this is, to some extent, a movie about a romance -- a relationship. Throughout the show, Scott has been portrayed as not being her equal, but at the end, they are still "unequal" in how they have grown: Scott has (supposedly) learned an Invaluable Lesson and Ramona is still running away from her emotional baggage, just like she was at the beginning of the movie.

I would have much preferred it if she had played a much larger role in defeating Gideon than simply kneeing him in the groin. And even though the line "let's both be girls" was funny (and yes, I laughed) - oh my god. The gender implications is head-desk worthy. Off the top of my head, it denigrates the female sex while also portraying Ramona as an emasculator of men, which is sort of an undercurrent in the flick (particular when Scott asks if she's always been the dumper, not the dumpee, which is evocative of Scott's own dumping experience).

Also, it was not lost on me that the only time Ramona really does get a chance to fight her evil ex is the female one. The second time she gets to fight is Knives. I don't think it's possible to separate these two fights from their connotations - there has been a long history of sexualizing women with their catfights. And even though I don't think the idea that women should only fight women because it's sexy or whatever was going through Wright's mind, I think those involved failed to see that by only having Ramona fight (primarily) women -- there just seemed to be a lack of awareness in those particular instances.

Which, don't even get me started on Knives. I'm glad she matured though, even if it was a bit hasty. But why couldn't Ramona mature too? Gah.

Third, Scott: I think the movie nicely deconstructed the idea that "love" involves fighting over women by having Gideon shatter the weapon Scott unlocked by learning the power of love. That was super nice. However, they promptly undermined it by having Knives, at the end, say that he had been fighting for her all this time.

Which is why I've addendumed all of my Scott-learned-his-lesson bits with a "supposedly." Because. I mean, really. If he had been "really" fighting over her, he wouldn't have gotten his sword of self-respect (which, by the way, is a weapon that Ramona needs to unlock and it would have been nice to have seen an equivalent /grouse).

I also liked that Scott had a bit of the Trickster about him in the way he defeated the Skater guy and the Vegan ex. That was pretty cool.

Tricksters for the win! Mind over matter! yeah.

Final thoughts complete with Dream Ending:

I know that it is unreasonable to ask that people consider the stories they're making and that they tailor their art to address society in some way. Scott Pilgrim is very refreshing as a film, and I really enjoyed it, even though the industry is inundated with films about boys becoming men with the help of a woman (eg, the scene where Scott is dead and Ramona appears to him on her skates). So, in that context, it would be nice to see more movies where the movie focuses on how a woman changes -- or at least acknowledges that it would happen without brushing it over (Knives) or not addressing it (Ramona).

And yet, I also know that it is unreasonable to expect that a person must change. Some people don't (but it's never as simple as that, of course - the nuance must be found). So, in that context, I don't mind (on some level) that Ramona is still running from her emotional baggage. However, I would also like to know more about the "why" -- as she stands in the film, she's less Ramona and more a catalyst to kick off Scott from boy to man.

I think that Ramona and Knives had more in common. Knives is this love sick girl who's obsessing over Scott (even to the idea that she thinks Ramona "stole" Scott - an idea that always makes my skin crawl) - and of course, she gets a reality check when Scott confesses what really happened, which is probably my favorite moment in the film (paraphrased):

Ramona: you cheated on me?
Scott: No, I cheated on Knives with you.
Ramona: There's a difference?

I let loose an internal cheer because -- yes! Exactly.

Anyway, I feel that Ramona and Knives are these two girls who are trying to come into their own selves -- and it would have been so much cooler if they went off together to have their own adventures rather than having Scott join Ramona.

It's not because I want some lesbian love between Ramona and Knives. I think this movie would work better if it wasn't about the romance, the need for Scott and Ramona to end up together in some ways.

After all, if Scott truly self-respected himself and truly loved Ramona, he would not need to end up with Ramona at the end of the film.

And it would have been nice for the film to follow through its sometimes strong, sometimes weak deconstructions of the genre with a killer bitch-slap like that.

Tangled: A Review

I am almost embarrassed to admit how much I liked - no loved - Tangled.

The sheer bender-gender-ness of it was fantastic - and so different from Disney's other Princess films where the female protagonists are little better than insipid, agent-less, love-sick cyphers.



Anyway, I really liked the way Disney decided to make the male character the peasant character instead of a prince as the original myth had it while Rapunzel gets to be a lost Princess. Yay! It was actually a pleasant re-write from an English perspective because the original tale had cast women in a negative light with Rapunzel's mother as an Eve Figure, the Witch herself, and Rapunzel as the typical agent-less, insipid male accessory.

So, Tangled seems to re-write a lot of those limiting gender roles that literature - especially fairy tales - generally seem to impose on women.

I also liked the gag with frying pan - it reminded me a lot of some of the themes in my Caribbean Lit class -- how women, described as kitchen-poets, who were confined in a domestic sphere without a literary tradition of their own could still contribute to their culture in a significant way with their own tradition which is validated and elevated instead of seen as just women's work or whatever. I really liked that Tangled sort of nodded to this re-appropriation of domesticity.

This was a small moment but I really liked it - towards the middle of the film, when they show the royal couple and the townspeople releasing the lanterns into the sky, the king sheds a tear and it's the wife who wipes it away, instead of the other way around.



I also liked how there was no agenda of Reform going on - I found both Eugene's and Rapunzel's character growth to be very authentic and coming from within their own selves, as opposed to being the result of someone else's agency or a desire to change for another person or whatever. That was refreshing. And for the first time, the princess seemed like a real person instead of someone with a dream ready to give it up at the first chance at true love - which is what happened with Belle. Or a girl who just wants to get married - like Ariel. And don't even get me started on Sleeping Beauty.

But with Rapunzel - there's real self conflict. Even though the presentation of it was very obvious (the cut scenes to sheer joy to abject depression when she first steps out of her tower), it still felt real to me. One of my big problems with the Rapunzel myth (which I've ranted about before, I think), is how she was willing to stay there in that tower, just waiting. Or whatever it was she did there -- and that's with a lot of other princesses too - they just seem to /wait/ an awful lot of the time. But here, the manipulation of the witch and Rapunzel's own conflicted feelings about the matter really three-dimensionalized the character for me and made it a real coming of age story.



Check out the Rapunzel character poster above to this collage of Disney princesses (which I think is an official thing instead of a fan made thing) - look at the difference in poses. The above are very passive whereas Rapunzel is -- not. I love that.

And, of course, the issue about the hair. It always bugged me that Rapunzel would just let people climb up her hair like she was their own personal stairway (though that does happen in the movie with the witch, it's obviously a Bad Thing as opposed to the prince getting away with it like it was his privilege or whatever).

I'm not really sure why Disney chose to advertise Tangled with images like this:



Because it doesn't happen, not till just the very end, and well, Rapunzel's all tied up and it's really the witch and of course Eugene is all adorably concerned for Rapunzel and I didn't really get a Using-Her-As-A-Stair-Case vibe so I'm okay with it.

I think I would have preferred Rapunzel cutting off her own hair, but truth of the matter is is that I'm Very Okay with how the film presented it. And by very okay I mean that I loved it because -- oh shit! I was not expecting them to have Eugene stabbed! Not in a Disney film! No way!

But yes way!

And I was totally on edge even though I knew, I /knew/, there was no way in hell that Disney would have a protagonist die at the end -- but still. It was pretty cool.

And she wants to save him and he wants to save her and it's all very, very sweet.

And perfect.

And did I say sweet? Because it totally was.

Wow. Look at the gushing. It's like I'm a puddle of goo or something.

But yeah. Rapunzel is definitely my favorite Princess movie no matter from which perspective I'm viewing it (either through an academic perspective or just an informal perspective).

It also helped a great deal that the animal companions didn't talk. Best move ever, Disney. Finally, they're funny instead of just painfully stupid.

Hehehe. Maximus and Flynn = hysterical. Hysterical.

So yeah. Everybody should go watch it.

Skyline is not Worthy of a Review

Despite its flaws, Skyline was good for one thing:

A How-To Guide on How Not To Make A Sucky Science-Fiction Flick:

1. Do not make your characters unlikeable.

This includes axing the following tropes:

if characters have premarital sex, they will meet their final judgment in the gooey jaws of a freaky alien who wants to eat their brains.

That's just not cool, dudes. Complicated characters, people. Nobody's perfect, so why don't you just put down that stone like it's hot and burning your holier-than-thou palms off.

Also - don't kill off the token black character because he cheated (and because he's black). That just ain't cool either.

If you want to have shiny objects being displayed on the arms of rich, privileged men here's an idea: make sure they're not women. Because, last time I checked, they're people too. Women don't just have to wail the names of their lovers out when shit happens. Or cry. Or run around like hysterical idiots. They can pick up axes, too you know, and kick some major ass (which you at least acknowledged by throwing a bone to the female members of the audience -- but yeah, we saw right through it, didn't we ladies). Also -- the only survivor is a pregnant woman? We can fulfill more roles than that of the Mother. Jerks.

Also, homosexual couples are not the butts of jokes. So shut the fuck up with the jeers.

Science fiction looks ahead to the future. It does not reinforce the hetero-normative, white-centric, patriarchal standards of the current society without commentary.

2. Science Fiction also requires that some amount of technology be an issue within the story.

Rampaging aliens hellbent on destruction and BRAAAAIIIIINNNNNNSSSSSS do not count. Because, if it doesn't go beyond that, then it's just about as deep as an evaporated lake.

3. Story requires showing not telling, continuity, and character development.

Unlike the deceased members of earthling society, the audience does have their brain. They don't need to be told what they just saw happen on the screen.

Major dialogue fail, writers. Of epic, cringe-worthy proportions. I hope you're all ashamed of yourselves and made Fs on your coursework.

Continuity means that everything fits together and we don't have random things happening. Like night turning miraculously into day. Or people being unable to open doors like normal folks.

Character development would have meant that whiny-assed protagonists change into mature heroes. Or something. And no, possessing an alien by the end of the film doesn't count.

I got nothing else. I'm still reeling by how incompetent, incoherent, disappointing, lackluster, and awful the whole thing was.

People are better than this.

I wonder, back in the day, it used to be a conflict over art for art's sake or social reform or some other significant thing.

Now I think we're even beyond art for art's sake. I think we're more into "art" for the shininess -- the explosions, the boom, the spectacular visual effects that are hollow with a story to wear it -- sake of it all.

Of course, I shouldn't romanticize the past.

Chaucer used bathroom humor too.

Which, thankfully, Skyline did not. For that, it gets a silver star of the sticker variety.

Inception (SPOILERS): A Review

Inception was so brilliant. It was so amazing that I wanted even more of it after the credits started to roll. Two hours wasn't enough to fully explore the character and the implications of the plot (unfortunately, we don't live in a world where we can pop into a new dimension, where time is bigger on the inside than the outside).

I think this would have been spectacular as a novel (except we wouldn't have been able to see the excellent performances of the excellent actors) or as a mini series on television.

But, regardless of the untapped potential literally crying out to come into being, this was amazing, and very multi-genred to me. There was science fiction, action, suspense, a little romance, and, most importantly of all, meta --

An Idea. A single idea from the human mind can build cities. An idea can transform the world and rewrite all the rules

That is brilliant - that is beautiful - that is...words....no, there are no words.

However, despite the intellectual brilliance of it, I do believe that, especially from a writer's perspective, the film failed on an emotional level for several reasons which I detail below. Oddly enough, the weaknesses of the film don't turn me off from it - instead, it heightens my enjoyment of it (similar to the way Rowling's dismal mistakes in HP only fuels my love for the books instead of squelching it dead). I still don't understand why certain faults in certain stories only increase their appeal to me...perhaps one day I will understand.

Regardless -- further up, further in!

The Plot's Implicated Themes

One of the reasons I think Inception is a brilliant film despite its faults is that it is very complicated. It's not really a summer popcorn flick - it's like a really amazing pie that's not really pie at all.

Most of the ideas revolved around the meta aspect of the film: ideas and where they come from and how they change people. It almost makes me wish that the story hadn't been about thieving and corporate empires but revolved instead around artists of the future.

Anyway, the idea of Cobb stealing ideas is like plagiarism on steroids because I imagine that once an idea has been stolen from someone that poor unfortunate soul probably won't even remember having had the idea in the first place. However, this theme is left woefully under-explored in the film, which is alright, I suppose, since it's about inception not extraction (still, the writer bit of me twitched a lot at the implications of such an ability). Of course, inception is even more horrifying than extraction. The film attempts to explore the underlying themes of inception, its consequences, what it actually means, but the very notion is so -- multidimensional, it is impossible to fully explore it in the detail I crave, and I'm afraid that what the film does attempt to explore is undermined by both the ending and the characters.

While the movie is about where ideas come from, I think it failed a little about demonstrating how ideas can change people (ironically, also because of the characters). I believe Cobb's wife was intended to demonstrate this - but considering that the audience knows nothing of her before her changed state, it lacks emotional punch. I also find the depiction of her changed nature rather simplistic -- as I said before, everybody dies eventually -- how did the inception of an idea that wasn't really hers change her as a unique individual? Unfortunately, we simply receive a woman who's rather obsessed about growing old with Cobb - which is sweet, but it is a story I've seen before. In other words, it's a tame, rather dull idea in the midst of a wildly imaginative plot. It's like someone intermittently forgot to color in the storyboards in what otherwise was a brilliantly stunning graphic novel.

The Characters

I found the characters to have so much unfulfilled potential, especially -- well, especially all of the ones who weren't Cobb. My favorite moments in the film were when the characters interacted with each other instead of with Cobb because then you could actually see glimpses of their personality when they weren't being a prop to propel either Cobb or the plot along. (Confession: I did not believe that Joseph Gordon-Levitt had enough screen time. Carrying on.)

Besides the fact that the supporting characters mainly...well, supported instead of grew (which is, admittedly, a fine line to draw, especially in films), I disliked the Fischer plot -- there was this cathartic moment between himself and his father, and I found myself simply not caring. Cillian Murphy is a brilliant actor, yet I found his character to be a bit clumsy with little nuance. His father issues were something I've seen before and it wasn't remotely individualized. Because Fischer was such an important character to the film, I think he would have been far better suited to explore the way ideas can change people instead of the dead wife...which is why this needed to be a series at the very least. ;)

The Ending

I don't like trick endings, especially when there are a whole lot of other issues that weren't fully explored enough. From a one time viewing, I think there are, in general, two ways to interpret the ending:

1. Cobb never woke up from the shoals of subconsciousness.
2. The whole movie was a dream.

If number 1, I honestly don't care. I found him to be the least interesting of all the other characters and would have preferred an ending that at least alluded to the myriad of issues and themes evoked throughout the film.

I need to re-watch it before concluding against number 2. I thought the top stopped spinning at least once (and I believe some of the previews confirm this), but perhaps he simply dropped it. Also, I'm more inclined to go with number 1 because, throughout the film, it is stressed that dreams don't have a beginning, dreamers simply pop up in medias res. The film itself reveals how Cobb landed on the shoals (the beginning of the dream, in other words), but the viewer is never shown how Cobb (or even Saito) supposedly "wakes up" after conversing with Saito-As-An-Old-Man. He's simply there - in the plane, in the middle of things.

But either way - dreams aren't real - and if Cobb didn't wake up - so what? If the story was about Cobb and his wife, then they should have kept it about Cobb and his wife without dragging Fischer into it. If the entire movie was a dream, well, it should be the biggest No-No in Literature ever (until someone comes along and breaks the rule in a work of stunning magnificence).

Other Thoughts:

The film itself was absolutely gorgeous cinematically speaking. The citing crushing in on itself, the scene with the mirrors, the free-fall scenes at the hotel -- stunning. Absolutely stunning.

So, the story had its faults. In some ways, it was deeply unsatisfying. But ultimately - it was so intellectually compelling I can't help but adore it. And determine to watch it again as soon as time allows.

Avatar: It's Not Pocahontas In Space

Everywhere I turn, I come across the Failbog Image that outlines the Pocahontas plot slashed with Avatar characters and events.

Yes. We know. Avatar is a completely predictable plot that seems to follow almost action for action the plot of Disney's Pocahontas.

Except cooler, obviously.

The thing about Avatar is this: it is simply another traditional American narrative set in space. And, brace yourselves, it comes with a twist. Shocking, isn't it?

Euro-turning-Native is nothing new, not even in Pocahontas. It happened to Cabeza de Vaca (till he was rescued many years later). It happened to John Smith (also, not the first). It happened to Mary Rowlandson (to an extent).

And then James Fenimore Cooper spawned Natty Bumppo from his pen. Natty Bumppo was an Euro adopted by Natives, who eventually grew up to be a better Indian than the Natives. Golly Gee. Doesn't that sound familiar? Of course, Natty Bumppo didn't get frisky with the gender that constantly swooned (Cooper, I hate you), but the principle is essentially the same.

Because of our history of frontier expansion, narratives of this nature helped carve out an identity for the colonials that eventually came to call themselves "American." Cooper, in part, was extremely influential in writing a narrative that was distinctly "American" in tone (I put American in quotes because this is from a colonials' view point, a perspective uninterested in the fact that they stole, murdered, and exploited the Native Americans for their land). Such tales romanticized the colonization experience of westering. They glossed over the blood shed, the exploitation, and made it into something beautiful, celebrating the rugged identity they sought to cultivate while hiding all the monstery bits under the rug. Such ideas appeared in nonfiction as well: Frederich Jackson Turner, while musing on what constituted "American" identity detailed in a speech that, to conquer the land, frontiersman would have to turn Native first -- else they would not survive.

These stories are "America's" blood. Today, they are still "America's" blood. Dances With Wolves. The Last Samurai. Even Twilight (and every other teenage lit obsessed with romancing the undead, complete with the desire or event to be "turned"). And, lately, Avatar.

So, with such a backdrop of tradition, what's the twist? In every other instance I've mentioned, the Natives, in particular, are a nonentity. Shortly after De Vaca rejoined the Spaniards, the Native Americans who had traveled with him were massacred. Cooper titled a novel The Last of the Mohicans even though there was a settlement of Mohigans nearby. Within Cooper's novels, the Native Americans are depicted as a race that are dying out. They are portrayed as "noble savages" running wild in the woods instead of as a civilized people with their own identity dwelling in towns, growing crops, etc (this trope has also appeared in numerous traditional literature by the dead white guys). Even though Pocahontas, like all Disney movies, ends on a happy note with Pocahontas standing on a cliff, the wind in her hair complete with appropriately swelling music, the typical audience knows that's not the real end of the story as they try to forget the nasty bits by ending it prematurely or ignore it by telling stories that make them feel better about themselves (stories like Natty Bumppo and Pocahontas which speak of supposed assimilation, harmony, and even love between two cultures while conveniently ignoring the genocide, exploitation, and slavery).

Within these stories, the Euro-Turned-Native is portrayed as the last -- and usually the best -- of the Native kind. Even though these stories serve to "humanize" to an extent people who have been stereotyped as "savages," the Euro is still ultimately portrayed as being the superior. Yes, this does happen to an extent in Avatar because Jake literally swoops in and saves the day on the back of the giant bird. However, I would also argue that because heroes of the Na'vi had done so several times before, this element is somewhat mitigated, though still present.

But, more importantly, the Na'vi are victorious. They suffer, but they do not lose Pandora to the colonials, as it happened in the titles listed above. Their lands are not taken from them under the guise of the so called "noble" ideal of westering. Their independence is not stolen from them in the name of civilization. They are depicted as a nation and as a people with an identity, not like a "noble savage" running wild in the woods alone, the last of his kind, with only a white man for company. The characters are clearly cast: the earthlings are the savages, not the Na'vi, and, like all heroic stories, good conquers evil.

I don't know. Perhaps I am indulging myself in privileged romanticism, but I think the end of Avatar acknowledges the horrific mistakes of the past. It twists the traditional narrative by telling the story of how history should have unfolded, instead of how it did.

And is that not one of the roles of science fiction? The might have beens, the should have beens?