Kingdom Hearts IV predictions
Monstropolis (Monsters, Inc.)
Takes place after the movie.
Is visited by Donald and Goofy.
The inhabitants are, of course, thrilled to see Donald and Goofy again, but are sad to hear about Sora’s sacrifice.
Starring the voices of:
Carlos Alazraqui as Mike Wazowski
Sam Black as George Sanderson
Regan Burns as Jerry Slugsworth
Pete Docter as Child Detection Agents
Mary Gibbs as Boo
Bonnie Hunt as Ms. Flint
Teddy Newton as Child Detection Agents
Frank Oz as Jeff Fungus
Bob Peterson as Roz
Jeff Pidgeon as Thaddeus “Phlegm” Bile
Phil Proctor as Charlie Proctor
John Ratzenberger as Yeti
Roger Craig Smith as Child Detection Agents
Stephen Stanton as Needleman & Smitty
Christopher Swindle as James P. Sullivan
Jennifer Tilly as Celia Mae
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Thinking about Charles and his absolutely massive and enduring desire for praise... It makes me unwell, because it is everywhere, sprinkled throughout the entire season from the very beginning, and it isn't subtle at all.
Charles has this very clear thing where he is always expecting to be doubted—this really deep fear of fucking up. We see it come through especially hard with Monty specifically, actually. Something about Monty cawing at him, before Monty even becomes a person who ignores Charles' handshake and clearly prefers Edwin - seems to grind on Charles' nerves. (And, just to note, when Monty does pointedly ignore Charles introducing himself, Charles right away goes to wondering if he'd done something wrong: "I was polite, wasn't I?" and Crystal reassures him, "Yeah. You did good." Everyone can see it. Everyone can see what he needs, even Crystal, who just met him like, a week ago.)
Maybe Monty's cawing reminds Charles of his own unceasing and grating inner voice that says: You're bad, Charles. You're wrong, Charles. You're not enough, Charles. You're too angry, always too angry. Too broken, too weak, too unserious, too useless, too fake, too dangerous and everyone can see it. Who do you think you're fooling? Shut up and quit smiling about it and take what you deserve, which is nothing.
The fact that at the beginning, Monty isn't a person yet, he's just a bird, makes it extra-clear it's straight-up just Charles' insecurities coming through, provoked by his perception of being belittled, his fear of being not good enough, of being not-good period.
He was never good enough, when he was alive. He could never reach a point that pleased his dad properly, permanently. He could never reach a point where he fit in with the other lads, and eventually they turned on him. He chose to protect someone who was like him, different and defenseless and scared and alone, and it got him killed.
Edwin tells Charles he knows he can open the lock, and even that's still not enough to quell the little voice inside that says he's being doubted. And we get, "Yes, I can, crow, you'll see." He has to prove himself. To whom? To a bird?
Or is this his way of speaking, indirectly, to Edwin in that moment? Of trying to say, You're right, I can do it, you'll see. Your faith in me isn't misplaced. You weren't wrong to be kind to me in that attic thirty years ago. I can earn you if I keep being good. I deserve it. Please believe me.
(He doesn't grasp that Edwin already thinks Charles is the best person he knows. That he deserves everything good in the world and doesn't have to prove a single thing to be loved, adored, cherished. All he has to do is exist.)
And then: "Keep mocking me, crow. I'll make you my friend eventually. Everyone likes me. I'm a good sort of chap."
There it is again, the need to be good. the need to be liked. The need to be a good sort. Not a bad sort because if he's fundamentally bad then maybe he can make some sort of sense of why he's been hurt so much. Maybe that's why his dad did what he did to him; maybe that's why he got stoned and drowned to death. If everyone likes him eventually, he can keep from getting hurt again. if he's good it means he didn't deserve what was done to him and the world was wrong for it. (And indeed, when Monty seems to ally with him later, on the Case of the Creeping Forest, Charles points out to Edwin that everyone likes him eventually - an echo of what he'd told Monty at the beginning, but he's saying it to Edwin - as if to say, You see? I'm good enough for people. You were right to believe in me. I can be good enough for others so maybe I can be good enough for you, too.
But all of that, it's really still just Charles kidding himself; he knows better. If someone likes him, if he's convinced someone he's good, if someone—what the fuck—if someone is in love with him, like, romantically? It has to be a joke, or temporary. If it is real, he'll slip up somewhere soon enough and mess it all up, like he always does. Forever-love is something that happens for other people, not for Charles Rowland.
It's just a matter of which mistake he's going to make next. Was I too brown? Too weak? Too sensitive? Too compassionate? Too counterculture? Did I think about a bloke the same way I think about girls, in my head where no one can even hear? Which flavor of fuck-up will I be today, dad? Which one will I be tomorrow, world?
This post is getting a bit long, but I'll just point out Charles' relationship to making mistakes, since it comes up already in the second episode, after he breaks the enchanted vessel at the dandelion shrine. Important to note that Edwin doesn't actually tell him off for doing it at all; he just looks shocked it happened, and then explains it to Crystal as a statement of facts: 'We found the vessel; Charles dropped the vessel; now we need the vessel to trap the sprites.' He sounds a bit terse, maybe, but it's nothing much, for how blustery Edwin can often get when he really means to.
But Charles shouts at himself immediately when he drops the vessel; he goes to beating himself up, internally, instantly. And then, when they are explaining the situation to Niko, he's visibly bracing for his own part in messing it up, you can see it on his face - his mouth thins into a line, he's rolling his eyes, he's ready to be the fuck-up, so to speak, the reason everything went tits-up. When Crystal gets frustrated about him having dropped the vase, he gets apologetic - "Didn't mean to!" - and then defensive - "All right, all right, no need for you lot to pile on!"
What 'you lot' does he really mean? Edwin's actually being pretty reserved with the telling-off, in this instance. And yes, Crystal's annoyed with him for it. But I'm willing to bet a huge part of what's making him feel so on edge is the loud, loud, loud inner voice that's been punishing him since it happened. And then! He goes straight to fixing the situation—in a really ingenious way! In a way that completely compensates for his mistake, and solves their problem, and has Edwin awestruck praising him just minutes later.
And that's the thing, isn't it? The thing is Charles is brilliant. He's creative, artistic, and inventive, he thinks on his feet, he says he's the brawn because it's what he thinks he has to be to have worth in their partnership, but he's equally as often the brains. He creates loopholes, he survives by being convincing, in fact he makes himself a walking exception to the rules of the narrative by sheer power of will, when he becomes an Orpheus analogue who defies the text of the Orpheus and Eurydice myth he never even finished, and successfully saves Edwin from hell.
How often had Charles done this in life? Worked so hard to make up for even the tiniest mistakes, real or perceived, in ways that blatantly try to overcompensate for being weak, undeserving, wrong, inherently bad? How hard did he—does he still—overwork himself with his mental gymnastics; his insistence on placing himself in physical danger for others because it's the least he can do to be worth their time and attention and esteem; his suppression of every emotional impulse he thinks makes him awful and unsavory?
All he wants, so bad that it informs his every decision, is to be told he's good.
Each time it happens, it's like a tiny, pleasant surprise. And like an awful little game he plays with the world. Can he get people to think he deserves their kindness? Has he finally earned it? Now how can he keep it? Can he do enough sleight-of-hand with his cricket bat that they'll look past all his flaws and see something to love in him?
Each time he gets a kind word, a little morsel of praise, it's like, maybe it'll finally sink in this time—but he's not exactly holding his breath. Just like he's never enough, neither is there ever reassurance enough. Soon he needs it again. And again. And again.
And so it goes. To the point where he can't help but be so transparent about it that his praise thing can be seen from space.
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