Reading/Watching Log #13

I aimed to get a ton of stuff watched and read this month (otherwise what's the point of holidays?) and the content fell into some pretty interesting categories, including dark fairy tales, Star Wars, anime, dystopias, and the usual scattering of superheroes. Because when the world delves into chaos, diving into fiction is a pretty reliable coping mechanism.  

Wonders of the Invisible World by Patricia McKillip

Another collection of short stories from one of my favourite authors, not with any sort of unifying theme save for general fantasy and McKillip's fascination with water. I'm not usually one for short stories as I prefer to get my teeth into a meaty story, but often McKillip's prose is so dense that it comes as a relief to enjoy it in smaller doses.

I won't detail all sixteen of the stories, but a standout for me was The Kelpie involving a group of Pre-Raphaelite painters – including a young woman who is relentlessly pursued by a man she has no interest in. It had added resonance on the heels of watching Desperate Romantics last month, and ends up being one of the original fairy tales that McKillip writes so well. Undine is also a lot of fun, in which the titular undine goes above-water to seduce a mortal man, only to get side-tracked by his crusading efforts to protect the waters she emerged from.

Monstress by Marjorie Liu

I have no memory of how this graphic novel came to my attention, but I'm glad it did. A collaboration of Marjorie and Sana Takeda results in the perfect marriage of plot and visuals, taking place in a world that blends Asian/Egyptian aesthetics, Lovecraftian horror, steampunk technology and art décor styling. Ever heard of that combination before? Throw in some witch-nuns, shaman-empresses, many-tailed cats, half-human hybrids and ancient gods, and you have a woman-centric story that's pretty epic in scope.

You're flung into the deep end without hardly any exposition or context, making it one of those stories that require a second read just to get a fix on what exactly is going on, though the main character's conflict is pretty clear. Maika Halfwolf is on a quest for both vengeance and answers to her past, helped and hindered by an internal demon that occasionally manifests in the real world. Her relationship with this "monstress" lies at the centre of the plot, as well as the lingering question of who is really in control.

But the most noteworthy feature is the overwhelming abundance of women, and it turns out the best thing about a cast of characters that's 99% female is that it removes any and all gender politics from the equation. Monstress could have very easily been a "man versus woman" story, with female Arcanics (sold as slaves) pitted against male Cumea (scientist/mages) – but we've seen that conflict a million times before. This is simply a story about women; women who are not only scientists, politicians and archaeologists, but who are cruel or kind, helpful or obstructive, morally ambiguous or flat-out loathsome.

In short, it's quite a ride.

Dark Tales from the Woods by Daniel Morden

I read this collection of short fairy tales years ago, but on spotting it again at the library I nabbed it to refresh my memory. Adapted from the oral tales told by travelling storyteller Abram Wood, they are highly reminiscent of the Brothers Grimm in regards to their tone and content. All the motifs of fairy tales can be found here: threefold trials, transfigured maidens, talking animals, magical helpmeets, resentful older brothers, heroes in disguise, broken taboos – but all more dark and macabre than you might be used to.

Most of the stories involve a forest in some way (thus the title), with the dark woods serving as a testing ground, a place of danger, or a sanctuary to hide in. But each story taps into that primal echo of the very oldest stories, with regular beats and rhythms in theme, content and plot. You can easily imagine any of them being told around a campfire thousands of years ago.

Crusade by Robyn Young

The second in a trilogy, I read the first novel Brethren last year and came to Crusade more out of a sense of obligation than real interest. That said, it focuses on the Eighth Crusade, which is the one that never gets much literary attention. A lot of it is fairly silly, like the idea that the Knights Templar could have a secret sect within their order that's devoted to forging peace between Christians, Muslims and Jews, but it runs along at a good pace and there's enough of a historical basis to its plot that I was inspired to go researching for more information on the period.

Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights (2004)

I came out of Rogue One with a) lots of feelings and b) a massive crush on Diego Luna, so it didn't take long to realize this was in his back catalogue. Thank goodness I didn't see it as a teenager, as I'm not sure my adolescent hormones could have handled it (apparently he's also played Casanova and I'm probably still not ready to watch that).

It came out in 2004 (which is over thirteen years ago now, oh my god) and is a prequel of sorts to Dirty Dancing, even though it has no continuity with the original film besides an extended cameo by Patrick Swayze (which doesn't make much sense since he naturally looks much older than he did in the original, which was set ten years after this one, so it's unclear whether he's even playing the same character).

The plot is so by-the-numbers that anyone could have written it: girl is moved against her will to a new city, girl is surrounded by peers she considers beneath her, girl meets boy that her family disapproves of, girl and boy enter a dance competition to prove something to themselves and the world – three out of these four plot-points describes pretty much every YA novel published in the last ten years.

The only unique component is the period backdrop of 1950s Havana just before Castro Fidel takes power, but it's pushed so far into the background it's little more than window dressing.

Katy and Javier are every couple you've ever seen in one of these movies: she's a pretty girl who's spirited but inhibited, and he's a cute boy who provides her sexual awakening whilst being completely non-threatening. She sits by the pool with a cardigan and a book; he lends her his jacket and carries her bag while he walks her safely home.

It gets a bit much sometimes, as Katy's opens with a blatant "not like the other girls" voiceover ("while other girls were dancing to Elvis and dreaming about prom dates, I was reading Jane Austen and dreaming about college"), treats her peers with barely concealed contempt (which they only partly deserve) and is utterly miserable to be in Havana. Wouldn't it be nice to have a teenage protagonist who is actually friendly to others, enthusiastic to be in a new place, and finds Jane Austen really boring? The character is saved entirely by Romola Garai's appeal.

She's one of those actresses who (like Julie Cox) I don't seek out, but who I enjoy whenever she turns up. This was apparently her first Hollywood film, and it surprised me when the trailer gave her the "introducing" annotation since it feels like she's been around forever. Diego Luna (who was twenty-five, playing much younger) is full of energy and charisma, and doing his level best to elevate Javier from the clichés of Teenage Dream Boyfriend and Spicy Latin Lover.

More than the dancing, the film is an ode to young love. Katy and Javier are fuelled entirely by youth, hormones and teenage rebellion, but there's an endearing innocence to them too – though the relationship is consummated by the end of the film, there's far more hugging between them than there is kissing. And it's a bittersweet ending in a way, with Katy returning to America with her family while Javier stays in Cuba. Though it ends with Katy's assertion that they'll dance together again ... well, reading between the lines you can't help but feel they never do. Like Romeo and Juliet, their love story has to end prematurely before it burns out, but having been cut short it'll remain a perfect memory forever.  

Effie Grey (2014)

Having watched Desperate Romantics last year, I was especially interested by the facts surrounding Effie Grey and her godawful marriage to John Ruskin. Because it was relegated to a subplot in the miniseries, an entire movie focusing on the drama seemed a perfect way of getting more details of what must have been a huge Victorian scandal, though one that Effie miraculously managed to emerge from as the sympathetic party.

Unfortunately Effie Grey is more of a slow-paced mood piece than a clear biographical account of a real-life marriage from hell, ending right at a point that I hoped would be the crux of the film: the divorce proceedings and their fallout.

It touches on the usual themes: sexual repression, psychological warfare, the plight of a woman living in the 19th century, though what is perhaps extraordinary about the whole thing is not the abuse Ruskin and his family inflict on Effie, but the support she receives once she reaches out for help. Doctors, lawyers, artists – after witnessing the way Effie is treated by her husband they are invariably on her side. Most important is Elizabeth Eastlake, a high society woman who instantly recognizes that something is seriously wrong with Effie and makes herself available to assist her.

The past is not a place I'd ever like to visit, but after taking into account all the cruelty and double standards that permeated that society, it's sometimes worth remembering that kindness and compassion also existed, and have always been our greatest weapon against it.

The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part I and II (2014 – 2015)

I didn't see these movies in the theatre as a mild form of protest against them being split into two, and it's obvious watching them that the decision wasn't made for the sake of story. There are entire scenes that could have easily been snipped, and their presence only slows things down to what feels like a crawl at times.

There are certain additions which are pretty good: we get to see more of the uprising as it happens (whereas the novel was confined to Katniss's POV) and it was a good idea to beef up Effie Trinket's role, giving on-screen depth to the character that was only hinted at in the book. There are some nice little touches, as when Katniss has a split-second reaction to a wanted poster of Finnick just moments after his death, and also notable is the impressive male/female ratio: there are dozens and dozens of women in unquestioned leadership, military and villainous roles.

There's also an interesting extension of the first book's interest in spectacle (for example, how the tributes were promoted to their audience) which here becomes full-blown propaganda. Just as Katniss is used by Plutarch to unite the districts, Peeta is manipulated by the Capitol to condemn dissention. (As they say, oppressors always preach pacifism to the oppressed).

A lot has been said about Katniss as a feminist icon, though I was never really engaged enough with the books to pay much attention. I'm happy that a female-led franchise was a financial success; I'm also disappointed that a woman of colour wasn't cast for the part considering the nature of the story. And oddly (or ironically) enough, I think Katniss's position in the inevitable YA love triangle provided more material for commentary on her narrative power than her role as an Action Girl.

As this essay points out, when it comes to her relationship with Peeta, Katniss is "the guy." She's physically capable, emotionally unavailable, morally compromised – and it's Peeta who embodies most of the qualities usually associated with a typical Hollywood girlfriend (compassion, patience, a fair bit of damselling).

Also, it drives me nuts when Katniss is called a Mary Sue, and so was happy that the movie does a particularly good job of highlighting her flaws: her emphasis on Peeta and Prim to the exclusion of all else, her tense relationship with her mother, her ongoing PTSD, and the fact that she's "special" only because of circumstance. She comes across as banally ordinary a number of times, and of the three types of heroes (some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them) she's definitely the last.

Then there's the resolution. Look, I can appreciate Suzanne Collin's attempts to subvert narrative conventions and expectations when it came to the conclusion of her story – but that doesn't mean I think it worked. There's a reason that the straightforward "hero defeats villain by her own hand" conclusion is so prevalent, and that's because it's narratively SATISFYING.

So though I can understand the irony of Prim dying despite being the reason for why Katniss got involved in the first place, and the twist of President Snow becoming less of a threat than President Coin and so dying an ignominious death, and the fatalism of Katniss having absolutely no part to play in the decisive stroke that ends the war (thereby rendering her tribulations throughout Mockingjay as completely pointless) it's all even less persuasive on the big screen.

The dystopian craze is on its way out, probably because it now feels like a very real possibility for the future, but it's surprising how quickly The Hunger Games seems to have disappeared from pop-culture. Maybe it's fitting that the franchise ended with an anti-climactic bump.

Justice League vs Teen Titans (2016)

There are so many continuities to keep track of in the DC world: the CW television shows, the animated series, the Zach Snyder movies, Christopher Nolan's trilogy, Teen Titans, Young Justice, The Brave and the Bold... so many!

Like Bad Blood, which I watched last month, this is part of the DC Universe Animated Original Movies project, which I think are all meant to be part of the same continuity. But hey, I've only watched two. This one follows an arc which I'd previously watched in Teen Titans, in which Raven's demonic father tries to conquer the world. The difference is that this time, he brainwashes the adult members of the Justice League into helping him.

It's a little strange to watch a familiar story in a new continuity, with several tweaks here and there concerning the characterization: Starfire is now much older, Raven is much younger, and Robin is not Dick Grayson but Damian Wayne. Blue Beetle replaces Cyborg and Beast Boy is ... okay, he's pretty much the same. I'm never quite sure what to make of these movies: they're well written, characterized and animated, and I get that the hook is their more adult content – but at the same time, it feels like they're repeating arcs that've already been explored in other, older continuities.

The Clones Wars: Season 1 and 2 (2008 – 2009)

After Rogue One I was naturally hit by the Star Wars bug and so scrambled for something else to watch. When it comes to adapting Star Wars for the small screen, it's a no-brainer to focus on the Clone Wars. It provides a rich backdrop for plenty of one-shot stories and multi-episode arcs, and furthermore allows for the fleshing out of relationships between the main cast amidst political and military emergencies that actually make more sense than whatever was going on in the prequels.

Let me get my big complaint out of the way first: the animation is awful. Why couldn't they aim for the stylized 2-D animation used in the Clone Wars mini-sodes of 2003? Everything here looks clunky and weightless, and it's a shame that such beautiful locations and character designs have to be rendered in such a way.

I watched about ten episodes of the show before realizing I was meant to start with a movie-length premiere of the same name – which initially left me pretty baffled by the presence of a young Padawan called Ahsoka (who is properly introduced in the movie). Even so, her existence is a little jarring. You're telling me that Anakin had a Jedi trainee this whole time? There's absolutely nothing to indicate that in the prequel films, and I was afraid it was some sort of weird retcon.

That said, their dynamic ends up being the best part of the show. To see Anakin in a teaching role, in which he takes a half-brotherly, half-fatherly interest in a young woman's training is to see him in a new light, and is all the more poignant when you keep in mind how it's going to end – at least in broad strokes. I know nothing of the details of Ahsoka's fate, though I'm already in pain for her. She absolutely adores Anakin.

(And despite wearing what amounts to a boob tube and a miniskirt she's actually not sexualized – perhaps that's one of the advantages to the blocky animation style).

It gives us yet another deep and meaningful relationship that will inevitably be destroyed by the decisions that Anakin makes, and because it's in the hands of people other than George Lucas, it grows gradually and organically.

Padme also does well here, as we actually see her in the role of a senator, and being pretty damn good at it. Though she's occasionally given a blaster and some action sequences, her characterization is built around how good she is at diplomacy. There are an abundance of "ass-kicking" women out there, but I'm always appreciative of those that are valuable in ways that don't rely on physical prowess.

Also, now that the tepid romance of Attack of the Clones is over, we get to watch her and Anakin acting like a married couple (albeit a secret one) with plenty of sideways glances and brushed hands and faux pas. There's a very sweet scene in which she comes to his rescue from another planet via a hologram, and they manage to communicate their affection with just a few carefully selected words. Yet at the same time, there are enough moments of tension and uncertainty to demonstrate that theirs was never a particularly healthy or solid marriage.

But the big surprise is the clones: they're given personalities, their strange existence is explored, and some of them end up resentful of the fact they've been designed and breed for a singular purpose. The only problem is their Australian accents. As a kiwi, you've no idea how irritating that is, and I can only hope Temuera Morrison doesn't know about it.

Salem: Season 3 (2016 – 2017)

About halfway through the airing of this season, the announcement was made that it would be the show's last – which was probably for the best. The story was reaching its use-by date, and though the finale opts for an Only the Leads Get a Happy Ending finish, most of the character arcs and plots-lines are wrapped up fairly satisfactorily.

For the past two seasons I've really enjoyed the character of Mary Sibley (even making her Woman of the Month in October last year), though the writers wrote themselves into something of a corner at the end of last season. Turns out that once the devil possesses a child and promises to unleash hell upon the earth, a lot of his followers end up having second thoughts – if only because there needs to be conflict somehow.

So Mary Sibley switches sides, and spends most of the season trying to stop her devil incarnate son.  As a result she's pushed a little into the background, gradually losing her agency as the episodes go on, till finally Anne Hale steps up as the show's protagonist.  

It means that other female characters like Tituba and Mercy are side-lined (in the former case the character was wasted from start to finish, in the latter it's just as well since she was way too over-the-top at times) but I can't say I was too upset considering Anne gets such a fantastic character arc. Having gone from a sweet and innocent Puritan to a manipulated pawn of dark forces to a vengeful and powerful witch, she completely dominates the finale by blindsiding nearly every other character on the board. It's great.

I went into this show feeling vaguely disquieted by the insane liberties that had been taken with a very dark and important piece of American history, and though I can’t say I’m still not leery over the appropriation of a real tragedy to tell a melodramatic story about the devil trying to conquer the world, at times there also seemed to be a genuine attempt to criticize some of the human foibles that made the Salem Witch Trials possible: paranoia, misogyny, religious zealotry and mass-hysteria.

I can’t bring myself to truly recommend Salem, but at the same time I was invested enough to see it through.

Vixen (2016)

I diligently watched and reviewed all the episodes for the first season of the CW's Vixen, so I'm not sure how the second sneaked past me. There's not much that can happen in a web series comprised of six five-minute episodes, so the whole thing comes across as pretty contracted, though it does manage to build a little on the first season.

It delves a little deeper into the totems (apparently there are five of them, with four that have powers taken straight out of Avatar: The Last Airbender), as well as Mari's family history and relationship with her sister. The villain is pretty basic this time around; he's just a run-of-the-mill warlord who destroyed Mari's village and is after the totems for his own personal gain.

It also takes the opportunity to animate plenty of other characters from the various shows: Oliver, Laurel, Ray, Cisco, Felicity – it's a shame because they start to eat up screen-time that would have been better spent on Mari and her growing decision to embrace the vigilante lifestyle. That said, I was disappointed that Laurel/Black Canary didn't have more focus, as I was under the impression that the two women forged a friendship in this show, one that explains their familiarity with each other when Vixen finally makes her live-action debut on Arrow, but there's no indication of that here.

Yuri On Ice (2016)

Yeah, I watched the ice skating anime that Tumblr won't shut up about – though what really pushed me into it was an enthusiastic co-worker who has been raving about it for weeks. If nothing else, I thought it would provide a good topic of conversation.

I don't watch a lot of anime outside the Studio Ghibli films, and I can't say I'm a huge fan of it. I'm not sure I'll ever get used to a perfectly normal-looking character suddenly having distorted eyes and puffy cheeks and a giant tear on their forehead every time something mildly dramatic happens, but that's a staple part of the animation style.

Jam-packed with homoeroticism (hey, there's a reason Tumblr is obsessed) the show follows figure skating champions as they move through various competitions around the world – specifically Yuri Katsuki, an anxious and underachieving skater who is stunned when renowned Russian skater Victor Nikiforov offers to coach him.

The show commits quite a lot of time to the figure skating itself, with entire routines animated and played from start to finish; often more than once considering performers repeat themselves from one competition to another. There's also insight into the scoring process and other aspects of the sport, with skaters monologuing at length to themselves as they perform.

As someone who knows very little about anime in general, I'm not really sure what to make of it, being just kind of "huh", about the whole thing. I suppose it's good because everyone says it's good – though I'm not sure whether that's an indicator of its quality or an indictment of its competition.

She and Her Cat (2016)

How do I even describe this? Like most other things it came to my attention via Tumblr, in which it's very basic premise was enough to get me teary-eyed: a cat ponders how much he loves his owner. That's it. That's the story.

With only four ten-minute episodes, the whole thing can be watched in under an hour (here's the link!), in which a young girl called Kanojo moves into an apartment with her beloved black cat Daru, only to struggle financially when her roommate leaves. Due to a strained relationship with her mother Kanojo is reluctant to return home, but Daru is acutely aware of how much pressure she's under to find a job and retain her independence.

Most of the time Daru ponders deep philosophical cat-thoughts about the state of his life and his place in the world, but Kanojo eternally stands at the centre of his universe. Though he can't understand her words, he believes he knows what she's thinking – a claim that's tested by the narrative to poignant effect. Sometimes he doesn't know what she's thinking, as when (early in their relationship) he believes she's taken him to the river to share in the pretty sights (she was actually planning to leave him there before changing her mind), and yet sometimes he does, as when a beautiful sunset reminds them both of the day they met.

Tumblr is always going on about how something or other is "so pure!" but this really is. Occasionally it feels like it might teeter dangerously close to naval-gazing, but always manages to hold back thanks to the simplicity of the animation and the sincerity and completeness of Daru's devotion to Kanojo. "I love her. I am her cat."

Slasher (2016)

My loyalty to the Merlin cast continues, even as it leads me to some pretty mediocre projects (though nothing in the world will get me to watch Damien – sorry Bradley). This is Katie McGrath's foray into the slasher genre, and though it's not great by any means, it still held my interest.

But it's not something I can recommend. Every character suffers from the usual horror movie stupidity: running up the stairs instead of out the front door, going for walks alone at night, investigating strange places without backup, the inability to run without tripping over absolutely nothing – heck, one person even books an interview with the killer and meets with him alone, and the whole thing is based on the ludicrous idea that a woman would move back into the house where she underwent a caesarean birth at the machete wielding hands of her parents' killer. Seriously.

The so-called Executioner bases his killings on the seven deadly sins (yeah, where have you seen that before?) though the television format means it can flesh out the concept a little – not just in punishing people for specific crimes, but affording them the traditionally set punishments for said crimes (pride – broken on the wheel, lust – burnt to death, envy – drowning, etc).

Katie is fine; as usual her strengths are generating chemistry with her co-stars and demonstrating palatable fear, but she struggles with an American accent and is a terrible screamer. And as far as the story goes, I correctly the guessed the killer's identity in episode three. There's really nothing fresh or original that Slasher adds to the genre.

A Midsummer Night's Dream (2016)

Between Russell T. Davies and Steven Moffat (the two latest Doctor Who showrunners) I always had Moffat pegged as the audacious one when it came to storytelling. Though I ultimately preferred Davies's season-long arcs to Moffat's puzzle box plots, it was initially Moffat that people would look to for truly innovative episodes, while Davies was more content to play it safe.

But at some point during this adaptation of A Midsummer Night's Dream, I sat back and shook my head at the sheer cheek that went into Davies's creative decisions. And I'm not just talking about the colour-blind casting, same-sex couples or casual gender flipping – but the fact that the entire thing is filmed as though it's a Doctor Who episode. It's difficult to articulate how or why this is, but you can't watch this and not know that it was from the same man who was at the helm of Doctor Who's return.

And it never ceases to amaze just how distinctive any single Shakespeare play can become depending on the choices made in its presentation. This version of A Midsummer Night's Dream takes place in a fascist Greece where Duke Theseus is a cruel dictator whose upcoming marriage to Hippolyta is clearly an act of domination over her conquered kingdom (she's strapped to a gurney and forced to read lines from an iPad, surrounded on all sides by blatant Nazi imagery). By the end of the play, the fairies have invaded the castle, Theseus has died an ignominious death, and Hippolyta is free to reunite with her lover Titania – all without changing a word of Shakespeare's text.

Not all of the problems inherent in Shakespeare's play can be erased: Titania is still humiliated, Demetrius still ends up with a woman he doesn't really love (or alternatively Helena ends up with a man who doesn't deserve her) and the lovers' plot still hinges on Helena's nonsensical betrayal of Hermia,  yet Davies does so much to piss off the purists – and honestly, if you're not deliberately shaking things up in your Shakespeare adaptation, why the hell are you bothering to adapt it in the first place?

So we have Nonso Anozie as Oberon, and Titania as a bisexual warrior, and Lysander temporarily falling in love with Demetrius, and Elaine Page (!!!) as a gender-flipped Quince, and an openly gay Flute, and a finale in which red flags with black symbols are literally torn off the walls and ripped into streamers for a dance party.

It's such a glib and blatant middle-finger to those who sink a lot of time and effort into bawling about how political correctness is destroying the world that it's positively endearing. Watch it and remind yourself that this is the sort of otherwise completely frivolous and lightweight entertainment we have to fight for in the years to come.