Reading/Watching Log #26

It's been a busy month, though a lot of what I got through were recommendations from my work colleagues. And it's not that I didn't enjoy what they suggested, but my own personal To Be Read pile certainly isn't getting any smaller.

And there's absolutely no singular theme to this month's reading/watching log: a fairy tale picture book, a graphic sci-fi space opera, a London-based crime novel, a psychological thriller, a bunch of murders set in 1920s Sydney, a couple of superheroes...

Speaking of which, these two Marvel superheroes sit on opposite ends of audience response: one was lauded and the other heavily criticized. I'm naturally talking about Black Panther and Iron Fist, one of which left me feeling pumped, and the other... well, at least I can watch The Defenders now.

Xena Warrior Princess: The Warrior Princess, The Gauntlet, Unchained Hearts

I realize this blog has been a little dead lately; work is keeping me very busy and when I do get some time to myself, it's usually spent catching up with my TV shows and my ever-growing To Be Read pile. So in a bid to keep up a regular flow of posts, I've delved back into my now-defunct LiveJournal and other message-boards to pull out some of my older reviews and metas.

Between 2011 and 2017 I watched all six seasons of Xena Warrior Princess and reviewed each of the one hundred and thirty-four episodes on the BBC Robin Hood Fan Community boards with other long-time fans of the show (one of whom supplied me with the DVDs).

It was a ground-breaking show in so many ways, made all the more interesting by how it first began. Xena started as a recurring character on Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, a show that stands as one of the quintessential Nineties fantasies: hokey plots, all-American hero, and extremely dated FX.

But Xena Warrior Princess was a little different; tackling more serious themes of violence and redemption, with a main character that constantly fought her dark past and tried to make amends for the crimes she committed in her youth. Oh, and she was an unbeatable warrior woman who became a feminist and lesbian icon.

It's a fascinating story, one that grew and evolved and changed in unexpected ways, with plenty of highpoints and pitfalls along the way. For the sake of posterity, I've decided to shift my personal Xena journey to this blog, so as to track her development and archive her story.

I'll post these episode reviews three-at-a-time, starting with her guest-starring stint on Hercules, the trilogy that led directly to her own spin-off. Just keep in mind that I originally wrote this after viewing all but the final two episodes of Xena. This time around, I'm posting in chronological order.

Woman of the Month: Phryne Fisher

Phryne Fisher from Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries

I find it fascinating when female characters that otherwise tick a lot (if not all) of the Mary Sue boxes are completely beloved by audiences. It only happens occasionally: Nausicaa from The Valley of the Wind, Sara Crewe from A Little Princess, Sybil from Downton Abbey, maybe even Lagertha from Vikings (at least in the early seasons).

Phryne Fisher is another such character, and her list of skills and achievements rival Xena's: she shimmies up drainpipes in high heels, is a perfect shot with a custom made pistol, can pilot an aircraft, speaks multiple languages, and wins the hearts and minds of all who know her. She's witty, wealthy, charming and beautiful, and enjoys complete sexual freedom despite living in the early 1920s.

What is it that protects her from the usual criticism? Perhaps it's simply that she's so much fun. She's practically the embodiment of Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," and it's more out of her love of adventure than the pursuit of justice that she opens her mystery-solving business.

And really, who doesn't want to see a 1920s flapper flout society's expectations and embroil herself in a life of solving murders? It's the ultimate in wish-fulfilment, and between her fabulous wardrobe, ride-or-die entourage and beautiful townhouse, the show leans also heavily into themes of female empowerment and solidarity. Among Phryne's inner circle are a lesbian doctor, a shy Catholic maid and her pompous (but good-hearted) society aunt, and more than one case involves one or more of them coming to the rescue of vulnerable women from all walks of life.

That Phryne is an older woman (played by an actress who is currently forty-eight) is another bonus, reminding women everywhere that the fun doesn't stop after a certain age – and neither does romance. Phryne's ongoing flirtation with Detective Jack Robinson is truly one of the show's highlights.

Ultimately, Phryne reminds me of Stella Gibson from The Fall – not because the two have anything in common (besides solving crimes), but because they tap into a specific kind of power-fantasy for women. Whereas Stella was totally fearless and self-assured, Phryne enjoys absolute freedom from the world's judgments and expectations; a free spirit in the truest sense of the world. In the last episode I watched, she was wandering around her garden in a white mink shawl. Why? Cos she wanted to.  

Reading/Watching Log #25

I churned through a LOT of stuff this month. This was mainly because I was sick and tired of a very large folder full of BBC and ITV dramas that had been languishing on my computer for the last three years, so made myself watch one episode per night until I'd completed the lot.

And as it happened, January turned out to a month for murder: specifically those committed by murderesses. From cold-blooded killings to justified self-defence, this month featured four female killers across four different shows. Both Grace Marks (from Alias Grace) and Mary Anne Mowbray (from Dark Angel) were real-life women convicted of murder, their motivations left largely unexplained and their crimes harshly punished, while fictional killers in The Silkworm and Big Little Lies exist on opposite ends of the "justification" spectrum - one a loathsome psychopath and the other an undisputed hero.

All their stories were profoundly different: from a fascinating exploration of how stories can reshape facts to a fairly straightforward biopic; a gruesome whodunit to a riveting exposé of domestic violence masquerading as a black comedy about feuding housewives, it's intriguing to consider that women are at the front and centre of all these stories.

It wasn't just murder-mysteries though: I also finally caught up with season three of Arrow, slogged through the fifth book in the ever-growing volumes of The Obernewtyn Chronicles, revisited The Vampire Diaries (the original book series, not the CW show) and watched with a bunch of British miniseries – including two, coincidentally enough, that dealt with closeted gay men and the wives who must struggle with the reality of their lives as beards.

Standing Tall #21

This is one of my favourite giraffes (definitely in the top three), and possibly one of the organizers' favourites as well, since instead of simply putting it on a plinth somewhere, it was displayed in its own little park, complete with fence and pathway.

Called Te Aroha Mutunga Kore, which translates to "Loved Forever" or "Endless Love", the Koru patterns were designed by Morgan Mathews-Hale and looked incredibly striking against the white background. Most of it was painted in monochrome, but certain parts (the eyes, under the chin, over the heart) resembled pāua shell.

These photos don't really do it justice; but I vividly remember just how quiet and serene the place was, despite being in the middle of a busy residential area.

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:

Links and Updates

I usually write up a special post to mark the end of one year and the beginning of another, but between one thing or another, my goodbye to 2017 slipped past me this year. Kind of like the year itself.

The biggest change for me was that I finally got a job as a library assistant, and though it's only fixed term, I received the training and experience I need to hopefully make the leap to permanent position a little easier. It was a huge year in that respect, and it means I can finally start saving in earnest for a trip to Europe. Will I get there this year? Fingers crossed.