Meta: The Problem With Witches

Yikes, it’s been dead around here, but real life has an annoying way of cutting into one’s blog-time. Have some random musings on witches in pop-culture...

This post doesn’t have any sort of profound conclusions to be drawn from it, rather it’s more of a series of observations that I noticed while knee-deep in my October viewing of witch-related media.

Women of the Year: A Retrospective 2020

If you’re reading this, then you survived 2020. Congratulations. It was a year that’ll be defined by the Coronavirus pandemic and the lengths we all went to in trying to contain its spread, the consequences of which will be felt for years to come. Several weeks were spent in lockdown, which afforded us all one sliver of a silver lining: time to catch up on our backlog of reading and viewing material.

Wherever you are in the world, I hope you had a satisfying Christmas and New Year, even if it was considerably more low-key than usual.

As you may remember (as I’ve brought it up enough times) my profound weariness with the way female characters were treated throughout 2019 inspired my New Year’s Resolution: that I would try to focus on women-created and women-led media for the duration of 2020. For the most part I stuck to this promise, seeking out material that I might not have even heard of without this prerequisite, and it was rewarding to not only discover so many new stories and great female characters, but also revisit plenty of my own favourites.

The twelve most significant heroines of the year were featured in my Woman of the Month series, but there are always plenty more that are notable for their charm, complexity, uniqueness, and tenacity. They all got me through this year...

Meta: Random Musings

Unless you’ve been paying no attention whatsoever (and hey, maybe you weren’t, there is a pandemic and police riots going on) you’ll know that the fifth and final season of She Ra dropped on Netflix last month, a season which just happened to coincide with the seventh episode of the second season of DC’s animated Harley Quinn.

Both shows revolve around the intense relationships that exist between their two (rather damaged) female leads, and on May 15th, both culminated in a Big Damn Kiss.

Ecstatic by the success of their escape from a giant prison-pit, Harley and Ivy spontaneously kissed each other before recoiling in shock, while over on She Ra, Adora receives (and returns) a kiss from her long-time rival/childhood friend/mortal enemy/love interest Catra while on the verge of death.

Two very different contexts for two same-sex kisses, but as you can imagine: there was much rejoicing.

Naturally comparisons have been made to The Legend of Korra, whose final episode depicted Korra and Asami walking off into the spirit world together, but also the most recent Star Wars film in regards to the way the two leads spend most of their screen-time on opposite sides of a conflict, with the latter going through a redemption arc before they eventually reconcile. Naturally I have stuff to say about all this, as most of the discourse (that dreaded word) has sparked reactions ranging from bemusement to irritation to “what the hell are these guys talking about??”

But it’s a fascinating time we live in, and so below the cut are some random musings on the intersectionality of redemption, enemies-to-lovers arcs, and Sapphic love…

(Warning: I'm gonna talk more shit about Star Wars, so if you're sick of that, best give this a miss...)

Meta: My Favourite Little Women...

My head is still full of Little Women, and since there have been so many adaptations over the years, I felt it was time for a post that ranked the best portrayals of each character. By which I mean the four sisters, their suitors and other important characters (I won't bother with minor characters such as Hannah or Mr March).

And for the record, I wouldn't dare say that my choices are the objective best, but rather are just my personal favourites that you can agree or disagree with as you see fit.

New Year's Resolution: As Wrapped Up in an Angry Emotional Womanly Rant

disappointment
/dɪsəˈpɔɪntm(ə)nt/
noun
sadness or displeasure caused by the non-fulfilment of one's hopes or expectations.

I learned an important lesson in 2019: that I'm a deeply stupid person. I am stupid because I continually let myself get invested in stories that are destined to fail their female characters, people of colour, and LGBT communities.

It's not the worse thing that can happen to a girl: I have a job I enjoy, friends I love and a comfortable place to live. I'm keeping all this in perspective. But 2019 brought into focus a very disturbing trend of how female characters are treated when they're in the hands of male writers.

It's always been there, but the ways in which the stories of women have concluded in three of our biggest franchises, all of which came to their conclusions this year, have helped me find a way to articulate it properly for the first time.

We have a very serious problem with the proliferation of three deeply ugly tropes. TV Tropes calls them Stuffed in the Fridge (women dying so a man can be sad, angry or motivated), Drop Dead Gorgeous (depictions of beautiful dead women) and Interplay of Sex and Violence, the worst of all considering it often combines the first two. They were all over some of the most iconic female characters of the decade, in some of the most popular films and shows that aired this year.

International Men's Day: Top Ten Favourite Male Characters

It's International Men's Day, and I've decided to celebrate by showcasing some of my favourite male characters.

What they all have in common is a deep sense of kindness and compassion for others - which unfortunately, are traits that are not only in short supply these days, but often looked upon with contempt and ridicule. I'm reminded of a line spoken by Naomi Watt's character in The Painted Veil in which she scoffs: "As if a woman ever loved a man for his virtue," and looking around at the type of men that fandom usually stan for, it's not hard to see her point.

Or as Simone Weil wisely put it: “Imaginary evil is romantic and varied; real evil is gloomy, monotonous, barren, boring. Imaginary good is boring; real good is always new, marvelous, intoxicating.”

That assertion is up for debate, but an unfortunate side-effect of the assumption it raises is that heroic fictional characters, those who try to make the world a better place either through small acts of kindness or great feats of derring-do, are often dismissed as uninteresting, whereas those who commit themselves to violence, hatred and destruction are considered as sympathetic as they are fascinating.

Putting aside fandom's preferences, because YES I KNOW it's just fiction and shipping isn't morality, I still want to draw attention to the portrayals of good men in our media. Because simply put, I like seeing depictions of gentleness, compassion and empathy in any type of human, and it's Hercule Poirot who put it best in Evil Under the Sun: "To count - to really and truly to count - a [person] must have goodness or brains."

So these are some of my favourite male characters, not because they're morally compromised, or conflicted, or have sad backstories that justify their serial killing - but because they're fundamentally good people, and no less interesting because of it.

Meta: Why Aladdin and Jasmine are the Best Disney Power Couple

In hindsight it seems sad and strange that I picked Princess Jasmine to be March's Woman of the Month, Disney's first and only Middle Eastern Princess, knowing what happened in Christchurch just a few weeks later.

Aladdin came in for its fair share of criticism when it was first released, from its cartoonish portrayal of a fantasy Arabian city, to the ethnically-coded features of Jafar, to the infamous: "it's barbaric, but hey, it's home" lyric (the original lead-in to this was: “where they cut off your ear if they don’t like your face…”)

A few "praise Allahs" and "salaams" are scattered throughout, and yet the tone is so intrinsically American and its narrative so Western that it can barely be described as a Middle Eastern tale at all. Disney took an aesthetic (or rather, the parts of it that were recognizable to Western audiences: the minarets, the harem girls, the turbans and scimitars – regardless of their authenticity) and wrapped it gauzily around a Disney tale of heroism, romance and believing in yourself.

The critique is out there, and it’s worth reading.

And yet despite the Disneyfication of the original Aladdin story, however much they diluted the culture upon which the film draws its inspiration, it nevertheless contains two likeable, relatable, three-dimensional leads – who happen to be Middle Eastern.

And though that fact may seem like a tiny drop in the ocean of the relentless awfulness in the world right now, this year it's been a balm. I saw the stage show in February for my birthday, re-watched the original animated film with my Disney-deprived friend a couple of weeks ago, and will probably see the live-action version when it's out on DVD later this year. From start to finish, and on so many levels, it's a great story.

So, I'm gonna talk about it some more. Specifically, why I think Aladdin and Jasmine are the best Disney power couple. Because what's the point of having your own blog if you can't go deep down the rabbit hole of your own incredibly specific interests? 

Meta: Contrasting/Comparing Three Halloween Films

I realize Halloween was a few weeks ago now, but it was as good a reason as any to watch three of my favourite spooky movies and contrast/compare them. Because why not?

It's actually rather fascinating to see how scary movies for young audiences have deeply rooted similarities in their structure, characterization and moral framework. The earliest, Hocus Pocus, came out in 1994, followed by Monster House in 2004 and Coraline in 2009, giving us a trio of horror stories aimed at children in which young protagonists battle malevolent forces that are rooted in folklore and legend (urban or otherwise): one in live-action, one in CG animation, and one in stop-motion animation.

Although Coraline is not strictly speaking a Halloween movie (it's the only one of the three not set on October 31st) all of them feature young people on the verge of adolescence in considerable danger from the supernatural.

Meta: A Merlin Retrospective Part II

Continuing on from the first half of my ongoing Merlin retrospective, here are the rest of my favourite episodes from seasons three, four and five. As you can imagine, things get a little dire after season three, but there are still some good characters, scenes and ideas that manage to wriggle their way through the dross.

Meta: A Merlin Retrospective Part I

It was ten years ago today that the first episode of Merlin aired. Yes, you read that right: ten years. Not five, but ten. A solid decade.

All these years later, I have to admit that I haven't really given the show much thought since its conclusion. No matter how good preceding episodes or seasons might be, if a long-running story doesn't stick the landing, an audience has little reason to return to it.

And despite a rich premise and a wonderful cast, the show never made good on its promises. Storylines were spun out in endless circles, entire swaths of character development occurred off-screen, and the central hypothesis of the whole show (that Arthur and Merlin would build a magic-friendly kingdom of peace and glory together) never actually came to fruition.

In my mind, Merlin came to an ending at the end of the third season, with a finale that certainly has a lot of threads left dangling, but which also leaves our main characters in a good place. Sure, stopping here means we don't see Arthur become king, Guinevere become queen, Morgana get defeated or Merlin finally revealing his secret – but then seasons four and five didn't bother capitalizing on these developments either; not to any meaningful extent.

May as well quit when you're ahead.

And don't get me started on the fandom. My previous fandom was also my very first fandom: the BBC's Robin Hood, which spoiled me with its chilled-out attitude and ability to conduct reasonable discussions.

In comparison, the Merlin fandom was one giant screaming cesspit of misogyny and racism, in which slash shippers seemed certain that if they levelled enough harassment and hatred at Angel Coulby's Guinevere (who incidentally walked off with the closest thing to actual character development and a satisfying narrative arc) they would get to see Merlin and Arthur make out at some point.

This plan didn't work, and it's to my continual joy that both Angel and Katie McGrath (another target of relentless ire) have enjoyed consistent work since Merlin wrapped up.

But despite the ups and downs, I can't disregard the five years I spent with Merlin. (You know all those episode summaries on TV Tropes? Yup... that was me). Back in those days I had to wait for episodes to be uploaded onto YouTube, was working with extremely limited Broadband, and didn't have a Tumblr account (I would just lurk on other people's dashboards in order to see all the GIFs).  Heck, I didn't even have this blog. Those were the days of LiveJournal, where you can still read my reviews of season four and five episodes.

But I have fond memories of watching Merlin clips and homemade MVs on YouTube, and of the imaginative scope the show afforded me in the way it left so many stones unturned; so many avenues unexplored, that new ideas and story possibilities sprung up in my own head.

So I wanted to do something to commemorate the beginning of Merlin, and so have dug out the extremely long retrospective I wrote at its conclusion. Because it was first published on LiveJournal, which has no mechanism for seeing how many hits a singular page is getting, I have no idea how many people read it when it was first posted. However, I saw it talked about and linked to a few times in the wider fandom, so I suspect it was one of my more popular offerings...

Meta: Defying the Fridge

I just finished the most fantastic book called The Refrigerator Monologues by Catherynne M. Valente, which tackles the subject of Women in Refrigerators through the format of The Vagina Monologues.

I loved it. More of a novella than a fully-blown book, it's a collection of first-hand accounts from various female characters who don't make it to the end of the story – they're the girlfriends who die so their male counterparts can get motivated or be angsty or just get on with his superhero lifestyle without any distractions.

Most of my thoughts about will keep until my end of the month Reading Log, but for now I'll just say that you can tell it's written from a place of deep frustration, and this article by Valente explains her inspiration: watching the death of Gwen Stacey in The Amazing Spiderman 2.

Then I made the mistake of reading the comments. Amidst the usual snowflake pearl-clutching about how the feminist agenda is infecting literature and destroying lives, there was a depressingly repetitive refrain, used as justification for the death:

"Gwen Stacey always dies."

Gwen Stacey always dies. The words are spoken like it's an explanation in and of itself. That's like... the whole point, guys. That's her purpose; her reason for existence. She lives so she can die. It's hard to properly articulate why this mentality is so depressing.

Look, I'm not so daft as to believe female characters should be immune from death, but it's the frequency with which women perish, and the reasons for why they do so – but that's for another post entirely.

This post is actually a positive one. Below are a list of female characters who defied the fridge. Despite all the odds being stacked against them, despite foreshadowing and precedence and fandom expectations and even narrative inevitability, these women refused to be stuffed in that damn refrigerator.

Their places in these narratives aren't defined by the pain their deaths inflict on male characters – instead they are given the right to live and thrive and tell their own stories.

Meta: Alias Grace ... what the hell?

I've recently finished Alias Grace, a six-part miniseries that's riveting, engrossing and fascinating, and which you should watch right now if you haven't already. Based on the real-life arrest, imprisonment and eventual pardoning of Grace Marks for her involvement in the murders of her employer Thomas Kinnear and his housekeeper Nancy Montgomery, Margaret Atwood weaves a story around the established facts of the case that explores (as you might expect) womanhood, storytelling, and how the perception of others can shape our lives.

This post is for those who have already seen the miniseries (or read the book) for it is an attempt to provide three possible explanations for the mystery of Grace Marks (as presented here) and the events that took place on that fateful day in July 1843 when Kinnear and Nancy were killed.

There are three possible scenarios that the show leaves us with:

Meta: The Assigning of Blame among Fictional Characters

With the release of Disney's live action Beauty and the Beast in theatres, I did what any fan that grew up in the Nineties would do: watched the original animated version instead. I'll probably see the new one eventually (if not simply to complain about it) but my philosophy is that if you want to remake something, do so because you can make the original better. And in the case of the animated Beauty and the Beast, you can't improve on perfection.

But I'm not actually here to talk about Disney fairy tales or their remakes – instead I want to discuss two lines that caught my attention as I watched the animated film for what must have been the hundredth or so time. When Belle and her father are trapped in the cellar as Gaston and the townsfolk ride out to confront the Beast at his castle, Belle turns to her father and cries: "this is all my fault!"

Later she repeats the words when cradling the Beast's body in her arms, telling him: "this is all my fault; if only I'd gotten here sooner."

The words rang a bell, but it wasn't until reading this review of Aladdin that I realized why. In that movie the protagonist has a line that's almost identical (at least in sentiment) to Belle's, crying: "this is all my fault – I should have freed the genie when I had the chance!"

So what point am I trying to make here? The link above points out something interesting: that when Aladdin admits blame for the situation he's found himself in, it's actually true. He should have freed the genie when he had the chance. Breaking his initial promise to do so after his first two wishes had been granted gave Jafar the opportunity to steal the genie's lamp and wreak havoc on Agrabah.

And it was Aladdin's own insecurities that led to this decision, making it a mistake born out of the character's foibles. It's a bad choice not made accidentally or without full knowledge of the situation – but out of fear and selfishness.

Compare this with Belle, who twice states that everything is her fault, and yet clearly can't be blamed for any of the terrible events that occur in the movie. Perhaps she's holding herself responsible for showing Gaston and the townsfolk an image of Beast in the magic mirror? If so, the audience can't be too hard on her considering she did it to save her father from being dragged off to the asylum.

And her statement that: "if only I'd gotten here sooner"? Come on, she was clearly travelling as fast as she could, and I'm not sure what she could have done to interrupt the Gaston/Beast fight if she had returned a few seconds earlier anyway.

It made me realize that the words: "it's all my fault" are uttered quite a lot in movies/television by a variety of different protagonists. Something terrible has happened, and because they're the main character, they are guilt-ridden. The blame lies with them, even when it clearly doesn't.

Review/Meta: What Are We Searching For in Jane Austen?

I often find myself thinking of Michelle Dockery's words regarding the success of Downton Abbey: she theorized it was because everyone enjoys a decent period piece, but for the most part were forced to watch Jane Austen adaptations over and over again. Since the Nineties and the success of the Colin Firth/Jennifer Ehle take on Pride and Prejudice, producers haven't been blind to the popularity of Austen novels or the money they make.

But what do you do when you've depleted the entire Jane Austen canon? And as a viewer, where do you turn if you're suffering from Downton Abbey withdrawal and yet can't bring yourself to watch Pride and Prejudice for the umpteenth time?

The answer is what I'm going to call Jane Austen supplements. This is the material that isn't straightforward adaptations of her novels, but films and miniseries that are tangentially connected to her work, giving audiences all the trappings of a period drama without the predictability of plot. These related works are biopics, parodies and unofficial sequels, but having recently worked my way through them, I was struck by some of the common elements they all shared.

Jane Austen supplements expose the underlying and enduring appeal of this author, particularly in how she's now marketed to a modern audience. After watching seven of them (Death Comes to Pemberley, Lost in Austen, Austenland, Becoming Jane, Miss Austen Regrets, The Jane Austen Book Club and Pride and Prejudice and Zombies) I was left with a theory as to what exactly people find so alluring about this particular subgenre, and what the writers/creators are specifically catering to when delivering them.

Meta: Why Atlantis Sunk (the show not the city)

The BBC's Atlantis came to a definitive close on the 16th May of this year, though you'll be excused for not noticing considering only a handful of people seemed to be watching it by that point. Cancelled at the end of its second season despite having plans for five in total, I'll admit to having a sort of Bile Fascination with the project in the wake of Merlin and the knowledge that most of the writers, producers, directors (and in a couple of cases, actors) had moved wholesale from one show to the other.

On this blog I enjoy cross-examining stories and attempting to discern what a writer was striving to convey with this or that creative decision, but at the same time I try not to put words into the mouths of other people. After all, no one really knows what's going on behind the scenes of any given project.

But in this case, it is oh so very tempting to look at Atlantis as an obvious attempt to recreate the success of Merlin. And having reached that conclusion, you can't help but feel that the show's own creators really hadn't the faintest idea whatsoever as to what made Merlin so popular.