#compared to their brothers they are the only ones not completely rotten to their core

[slayersins]

morally beel is the jyuushimatsu of the demon brothers

[justdecadentcollectiondestiny]

Character Study: Light Yagami vs. Goro Akechi

So my brother pointed out that a lot of people compare Goro Akechi from Persona 5 to Light Yagami from Death Note and honestly I can definitely see it.

Obviously, massive spoilers ahead for both Persona 5 (Royal) and Death Note, seriously, if you plan on ever playing/watching these, do not read this post.

Similarities:

Let's start with the obvious: same color hair, both detectives, both around the same age (at least at the beginning of Death Note): 17-18

Both work with the police despite their young age because of their incredible deductive skills

Both had a mysterious yet dangerous power bestowed upon them by a god-like being and use that power for their own gain by killing people

Both present themselves as having their hearts set on catching a killer with mysterious powers that has been terrorizing Japan and possibly the world, despite being said killer themselves

Both desire power and recognition more than anything and are willing to kill people to get it

Both are extremely smart and cunning and come up with elaborate yet genius plans to trick their enemies into playing right into their hands

Both have a dark-haired counterpart who is very similar to them yet also their polar opposite, and with whom they develop a strong connection and sort-of friendship due to their core similarities and matching intellects. The two are in constant competition, each always trying to outdo the other. However, it becomes evident early on that this relationship will not end well, likely with one getting killed, and probably by the other

Both further their pseudo-friendship with their dark-haired counterpart by putting on an act in front of them and are more than willing to exploit that friendship to get close enough to kill them. Their counterpart also pursues said friendship due to their strong connection, despite their high suspicion that they are in fact the killer they have been trying to catch. Each eventually comes to feel that the other understands them to some degree, despite their differences in viewpoints and opinions on the world.

Both succeed in tricking and killing their dark-haired counterpart (if the player makes the incorrect choice in Persona 5). The counterpart dies with their eyes fixed on the person they considered their friend, and they have just enough time to realize their betrayal before dying.

Both manage to keep up appearances and maintain their composure in front of others until the very end, at which point they completely lose their shit and begin screaming, revealing themselves, their plans, and their true (extremely unhinged) natures, with their death following shortly afterwards.

And now for some

Major Differences

First of all, Light and Akechi have very different motivations. They both want power, sure, but Akechi doesn't have a god complex like Light does. Akechi wants power because he has been treated as worthless and unwanted all his life and wants recognition from his father, while Light wants power because he is bored with the world and believes it to be rotten, and wants to become a god of a new world of his creation.

Light and Akechi also have different perspectives on killing. Akechi really doesn't care one way or the other about the people he kills, he's only killing them to prove himself useful as an assassin to his father Shido. Light, on the other hand, takes great pleasure in killing because he believes he's ridding the world of all evil.

Light has a much better relationship with his family than Akechi does, working alongside his police chief father to catch Kira and always doing what he can to ensure the safety of his mother and younger sister. (However, it is true when Light's father does die, Light does not hesitate to use it to his advantage, and, although he would rather not be forced to, he does consider the possibility of killing his own sister to prevent his being caught.) Akechi is an only child who lost his mother at a young age and has nothing but contempt for his father who abandoned him and his mother.

Light and L's relationship also has a significant difference from Akechi and Akira's. Akechi approaches Akira first, out of pure interest and desire to learn more about him from a personal standpoint due to their conflicting opinions on the Phantom Thieves, and only later on in their relationship do they decide to officially team up to catch the killer. Their friendship develops and their connection strengthens until Akira becomes aware of Akechi's true nature and is forced to end or at least drastically change their relationship. However, L is the one to approach Light first, as L has already become suspicious of Light and wants to get closer to him to find out if he truly is Kira. Light accepts this for the same reason, to get close enough to L to figure out his true identity so he can kill him using the Death Note, and L officially brings Light onto the Kira task force. Light and L's relationship is almost purely professional and has very little personal basis to it, at least at first. It's through spending time together and realizing how similarly they think that a (at the very least least one-sided) friendship forms, with L explicitly expressing to Light that he sees him as his only friend. It's unclear whether Light feels the same way at all, or if he feels any of the conflict that Akechi is at least hinted to feel over killing possibly the one person who truly understands him.

Lastly, when the moment finally arrives that they realize they are defeated, Light and Akechi have very different reactions. Light's reaction is to basically go through the five stages of grief: denial ("It's a trap! This whole thing is a setup! This is all part of Near's plan to frame me!"), anger (yelling and lashing out at everyone around him, being furious with Mikami for his mistake), bargaining (Trying to justify his reasons for being Kira and calling out and begging for Matsuda, Mikami, Misa, Takada, anyone to help him, when he should know that they are unable to due to circumstances that Light himself orchestrated), depression (running away and sobbing as he relives the past few years of his life and his experiences with the Death Note), and acceptance (closing his eyes and dying as Ryuk writes his name in his Death Note as he had told him he would at the beginning). Light never accepts or admits defeat, he insists that he is in the right and tries everything in his power and even things out of it to try to escape and continue as Kira. Akechi, on the other hand, as soon as he realizes that he's lost and why, immediately understands, accepts, and admits it. The light dawns and he realizes his mistake and so, knowing that there is nothing he can do about it now and it is almost certain he will die very soon, he takes the opportunity to make his losing and his death mean something by closing the barrier between him and the Phantom Thieves, allowing them to get away. Essentially, in their last moments, Akechi admits defeat and uses it to his advantage, while Light refuses to accept that he has lost, even when his defeat is staring him right in the face.

So yeah, Light and Akechi definitely have some similarities as characters, but they are in no way identical as some people seem to have made them out to be, and Akechi is in no way a "rip-off Light Yagami". However, seeing as there are a few other Death Note references in Persona 5 (Futaba sitting on her chair like L and Sojiro holding his cell phone with his fingers like L), it's not illogical to say that these similarities between Light and Akechi may have been somewhat intentional, as a nod/reference to a series that clearly influenced and inspired the creators of Persona 5.

[hokiboshii]

again and this time it’s forever

♡  An Obey Me! Self-insert Fanfic feat. Lucifer ♡

Hoki Notes: So the process was like this: i no likey event luci’s mock proposal > i make my own > i ended up making him propose for real wwww

I don’t know if anyone else has done this, but this is just my version of Lucifer proposing to MC ;w; I hope you like it and I tried making it gender neutral! uwu

Warning: Spoiler for Chapter 28-19 (Conclusion of the RAD festival arc)

Deep down, Lucifer couldn't accept it. He was well-aware of the fact that out of all of his brothers, his proposal was far too simple. His pride wouldn't allow him to live it down, that you received something so meager, so unbefitting from him.

It was just a game of mock proposals, but you deserved so much more. You're so important to him, you deserved to be spoiled rotten to the core-- to feel like you are the center of the world, that you are the center of his world. That's why, after days and days of preparation, you're finally here, linked with his arm, strolling down the lavish and exotic gardens of the royal castle. The big day has come.

But for you, he only told you it’s a special day. He hasn’t told you why, but you’re dressed up in your most favorite formal attire while Lucifer came in an immaculate white tuxedo with blue accents. 

Earlier, you accepted his invitation to a private dinner under the stars and served by the stars. It was just you and him, the starlight playing in the reflection of your eyes, a sea of galaxies filling the champagne glasses, shadows bringing in the grandest of feasts. Your time with him has always been short-lived. That's why you savored each moment with him, as each second was precious. And now, Lucifer guided you out of the lush woodland, arriving at a familiar place. It was the dance hall where you promised to dance with Lucifer after the culture festival play. That was the first time you showed your relationship in public and it caused a commotion. Every demon in the vicinity had their eyes on you, in awe, as the proud and revered Lucifer waltzed across the hall with you--a great contrast to now, where it's so desolate, so quiet, that you can almost hear your individual breaths. 

"It seems like you remember this place." He said, his deep voice echoing into the empty hall. "I do." "But did you know? This hall, the Unison Hall, is the only place where the Celestial Realm's light could reach in The Devildom.” He explained. You shook your head and you walked towards the center, where the pillars gradually changed hues, deep purples melting into a pristine, golden shine. "Why did you bring me here?" You wondered. A gentle look crossed his eyes as he glanced towards the source of the light. "You can say that I'm asking for a blessing." 

For what? Before you managed to utter a word, Lucifer bowed, hand outstretched towards you.

"Will you indulge me for a while, my dear?"

You beamed him a smile. “Always.”

You took his hand and he whisked you away into a waltz. When your feet stepped in motion with his, a singular note resonated in the air, the next one in a higher pitch, and a familiar melody followed.

You realized Lucifer spelled the hall to play your favorite musical piece in his record collection. He has complete faith in your taste and you never failed him in choosing what piece would fit that day’s mood. But this piece stood out among the rest and you’d play it during the happiest occasions.

He spun you around and caught you in his strong arms. It was so smooth that you feel like you’re falling all over again for him. Your face must have been so dumbfounded that he smirked, but his eyes crinkle with endearment. He’s always been amazing. He’s a distinguished man of many strengths and talents and yet he’s not as arrogant as others deem him to be.

He smiled at you fondly and held you closer against his chest. Your heart soared and you added a joyful spring to your step as you traversed the hall. He’s such a sweetheart. He is stern, but vulnerable to affection. He always puts the needs of others before his own. But when he gets absorbed in his work, his weary eyes would wander sometimes. And you knew, he just wanted someone to be there for him.

You wanted to be that someone.

The music reached its end but it’s as if the spell hasn’t worn off completely. You’re lost in your overwhelming feelings for him. Your heart is so full. It wasn’t until Lucifer sat you down on a chair that you found yourself almost out of breath from dancing. Wow, Lucifer was just so mesmerizing, the thrilling thump of your heart wouldn’t calm down.

“Are you okay?” He asked, sliding his thumb up your cheek.

You easily relaxed against his hand and placed your hand on top of his. “Thanks. I’m feeling great! I might have fallen for you again.” You teased, but you didn’t miss how something deep flickered in his eyes.

“Oh, [Name].” He looked like he wanted to kiss you. You wanted to kiss him too and comb your fingers through his perfect hair. "I’m the one who has fallen for you.”

You could only gasp out his name when he knelt before you, cradling your hands in his and his eyes carrying a certain vulnerability that he shows only to you.

“For a long time, you made my days brighter. My memories of the sun in the Celestial Realm can't compare to how you look at me so warmly as if you knew I needed a beacon. I want to bask in your smile every morning. Teach my heart new ways to love every day for the rest of our lives and I'll fill your days with the happiness you deserve. Every piece of me I've shut away from the world, you took into your arms and held all of me together.”

“You made me whole." He planted a kiss on the back of your left hand. "You've made me yours." And another on your ring finger. His sigil imprinted on your body, the mark that signifies your pact, prickled with heat. "And now, on this day, on this moment, will you become mine?" Lucifer pulled out a red velvet box from his inner jacket and opened it. He looked straight at you, determined. The wind blew down on your bodies, raining down red rose petals around you. The ring sparkled under the light from the heavens. It seemed like it came out of a dream. "Will you marry me?" The silence was deafening. Lucifer can read your mind, but he wants you to say it out loud, to give physical proof of the emotion welling up in your heart, to promise him an eternity of happiness with just one word. 

“Yes.”

The light around you seemed to glow brighter and casted an illusion of a halo around his head. In that moment, you could have mistaken him as an angel, or maybe you did catch a glimpse of Lucifer in his angelic glory.

It’s as if it didn’t matter if he’s a demon and you’re human. You’re just in love. You’re finally that someone you wanted to be for him.

~*~

End Notes

- The dinner served under the stars and by the stars is a reference to Maple and Sally’s date dinner in the anime BOFURI!

- Unison Hall is based on the dance hall at the end of the RAD festival arc. I made the name up and about the light coming from the Celestial Realm. I just want Lucifer to be that desperate, begging for Michael the heavens to watch over and bless his proposal to you. Ehehehe :3c

Thank you so much for reading my first posted obey me fanfic. More will come and I would love to hear your thoughts before the next one ;w;)/ 

Have a good day~! <3

Hoki

[hamliet]

about the shovel. it gets passed around a bit and i started to wonder it might have some symbolic meaning besides being just a convenient shovel. your metas are very interesting so i wanted to know your thoughts

Thank you for writing back!!! Yay, MXTX metas. *rolls sleeves up, clears throat*

So I know the shovel has multiple appearances, but the simplest answer is that it is a symbol. It symbolizes digging into the core, the foundation, of heaven, which is rotten to its core with corruption. Xie Lian claims:

“Lord Earth Master, how did you dig out this tunnel? I’ve never heard that it was possible to dig beneath the heavenly residences in the Heavenly Capital.” It must be known that the foundation of the Heavenly Capital was not the same as the muddy earth of the mortal realm.

Yeah, it’s not the same. It’s worse.

It’s also worth pointing out that the real earth master to whom the shovel belongs (Ming Yi) is an imprisoned skeleton in He Xuan’s lair, a skeleton that only moves to violently attack when someone mentions his title of “Earth Master.” Almost like that too is a symbol of exactly what the gods are: rotting and dead inside, moved to violence for their pride, prisoners (of their own misdeeds). This is also why the shovel is used explicitly only to help the people who have suffered most by heaven’s corruption: He Xuan, Xie Lian, Shi QingXuan, and Yin Yu.. and everyone who digs with it (Ming Yi, He Xuan, and Yin Yu) has a somewhat tragic ending.

Regarding He Xuan… well, he was posing as the earth master and uses the shovel to dig Shi QingXuan out of his brother’s captivity when Shi QingXuan uncovers the truth of what his brother did to He Xuan. Xie Lian notes that He Xuan couldn’t use the earth master’s shovel properly because he was not the earth master: “Why did you think he couldn’t control the Earth Master Crescent Moon Shovel well? Because that didn’t belong to him in the first place! .”

Symbolically, this is also showing how He Xuan’s freeing of Shi QingXuan through the use of the shovel failed in its purpose: he was hoping Shi QingXuan, by then aware of his brother’s crimes, would turn on his brother.

He Xuan whipped around and started pacing back and forth within the hall of Nether Water Manor, growling, “I’ve given you chances!”

Shi Qing Xuan shut his eyes, clenching his fists. Xie Lian recalled that excessively furious “Fine. Very well!” back at the town of Fu Gu, and that scene of ‘Ming Yi’ blocking Shi Qing Xuan’s path to follow Pei Ming in going to the East Sea.

Only, every time, Shi Qing Xuan had chosen to help Shi Wu Du.

He whispered, “…I’m sorry.”

But Shi QingXuan is not that kind of person (which… also likely applies to how he feels about He Xuan though it’s obviously complicated).

The second time is when the Upper Court of heaven’s been overrun by Jun Wu, when Yin Yu appears to dig Xie Lian out, only they both wind up captured and Jun Wu digs to the core of who Yin Yu is to eventually kill him.

“That’s dissatisfaction.” Jun Wu said, “You are bound by his grace and had nowhere to go, so you are only forcing yourself.” 

“…”

Yin Yu hung his head and didn’t speak. Xie Lian was breaking out in cold sweat.

He could now somewhat guess how Jun Wu planned to attack, and Yin Yu’s every expression, every gesture, from head to toe, was full of weakness!

“Then,” Jun Wu said, “Let’s turn this around. Let me ask you another question: Have you shown Quan Yi Zhen any grace?” 

“…”

Jun Wu continued, “On what basis must you place yourself in a dissatisfactory position to devote yourself and repay kindness when someone irrelevant shows you grace, but when you show Quan Yi Zhen grace, he made you fall this low?” 

“Yin Yu, to be in the habit of belittling yourself in order to help others is no good habit. You must know, no one will thank you.”

He was pushing on every step, and each step was trampling where Yin Yu hurt the most!

However, despite him killing Yin Yu, he wasn’t able to completely destroy Yin Yu and Quan YiZhen’s relationship because Jun Wu struggled to understand the complexity of human connection. Even though Yin Yu taking Quan YiZhen’s powers, Quan YiZhen did not hate Yin Yu, and because Yin Yu tried to protect him, Yin Yu is killed.

Regarding heaven’s corruption and the earth shovel... I want to talk a bit more about the foiling between He Xuan and Yin Yu, because they are the two we see digging with it. He Xuan and Yin Yu were both destined for the heavens before corruption saw to it that they were both… well, either didn’t ascend or were cast out. Shi QingXuan and Quan YiZhen are also foils, as are their relationships: designated “older brothers” (Ming-xiong and Shixiong) and socially nonconforming little bros. He Xuan didn’t die in the end of the novel, but he lost the life he had and the closeness that he desperately craved with Shi QingXuan–for now. In the end, he passes the wind master’s fan back to Shi QingXuan, telling him he’s capable of fighting his battles on his own with a divine weapon despite the fact that Shi QingXuan is mortal now: 

a hand came swinging, smacked him and sent him flying out... Although Shi Qing Xuan was sent flying, he only tumbled and rolled a few times, sprawled on the ground, and he immediately crawled up, “It’s fine it’s fine, I didn’t die! He didn’t really hit me, he was just lending spiritual powers!” 

“Really…”

Shi Qing Xuan examined his hands, then looked at his own body, emitting spiritual light from head to toe...

Just then, “Hua Cheng” flung his right hand, and tossed something at him. Without thinking, Shi Qing Xuan raised his hand to catch, but when he saw what it was he caught, his entire face blanched.

That object was the Wind Master fan!

Seeing this, Xie Lian who was on top of the giant divine statue couldn’t hold back either and asked, “San Lang, wasn’t the Wind Master fan with… the one down there is…?!” 

“Pay it no mind.” Hua Cheng said, “I called him over last minute to give a hand.” 

Shi Qing Xuan was clutching that dearly familiar fan, his neck stiff, and slowly turned to that “Hua Cheng”.

“Hua Cheng” then repeated again coldly, “Deal with it yourself.”

Essentially, He Xuan yielding not to what Shi WuDu so cruelly did to him, but he is accepting Shi WuDu’s love of his brother (specifically that Shi QingXuan was worthy of that love). He Xuan acknowledges that Shi QingXuan was a good god, one of the best and most capable, that his potential as a god is real. So that’s a step, but whether or not he will forgive himself ever, the novel doesn’t give us an answer. 

Yin Yu, on the other hand, dies but his last action was saving Quan YiZhen, atoning for what he had previously done and acknowledging that Quan YiZhen was stronger than him in potential:

Yin Yu continued, “I do want to return to the heavens, I do want to be ranked in the top ten! BUT! If I didn’t manage all that on my own then it’s completely meaningless! I’m unlucky, I accept it! If I’m not as powerful as him, then at the very least I can admit I’m not as powerful as him!”

“ADMITTING THAT I CAN’T COMPARE IS NOT THAT HARD!”

Still, Yin Yu is unable to be at peace with himself, to forgive himself, regretting that he has regrets when he dies, being so harsh on himself he doesn’t see that Quan YiZhen literally never thought of him as weak or a failure. However, there is the solace, for whatever it’s worth, that Quan YiZhen is learning from what happened to Yin Yu and will carry on his memory. Even if he couldn’t be the pinnacle of a perfect godly example to the world, Yin Yu was this to Quan YiZhen.

Both of these relationships thus foil Hualian in the sense that human connection, even if only to one person, is enough to enable someone to live on after death, to achieve the great heights that they never could else wise, to start anew. Human connection is a major theme in TGCF (see: how Jun Wu’s arc ends with Mei NianQing deciding to stay with him), but the novel is honest about how painful connection can be at times. And in some ways, it’s that pain that helps make these relationships beautiful (however you interpret them). 

[moviemunchies]

Hellboy (2019) Review

So I finally watched the new Hellboy movie.

I’m a longtime fan of both the comics and the Guillermo del Toro movies. I was bummed when del Toro announced that any hopes of a third movie in his series were dead, and a little skeptical and stressed when immediately afterward Lionsgate declared that they were making a reboot. But they insisted that it would be a more faithful adaptation of the comics; because while the del Toro films are brilliant and wonderful, they are not very good adaptations of the comics. 

And then the first trailer dropped onto the Internet. And it was… not a good trailer. It focused on humor and violence, the former of which was not very good and the latter of which was gratuitous. Neither of those are features of the comics. Furthermore, the trailer worried me because while character names and backstories were from the comics, the details weren’t: they didn’t act like the characters in the comic. Which isn’t necessarily bad, mind you; a movie adaptation doesn’t need to be precisely like the source material, but the team behind the film claimed it would be accurate to the comics, the trailer with its peppy out-of-place music and terrible comedy and characters that were in-name only versions of the comics characters… the trailer made it look like a bad movie, and I had concerns.

Then the film came out, and reviews came out. They weren’t great. Listen, I don’t think you should put too much stock in review or Rotten Tomatoes; if you’re interested in a movie, you should go see it and form your own opinions. But I don’t think it’s always worthwhile ignoring them. Because the problems described by critics were exactly the things I had anticipated from the trailers. I still resolved to see the movie, but I had less urgency than I really should have. Because by the time I decided I’d go and see it, it was no longer in theaters. 

Whoops!

And because the library system here often makes it hard to put new releases on hold, it took forever before I was able to get my hands on the DVD. But I finally did, and I finally saw the movie, and, uh

It’s a bad movie.

Alright I’ll try to put a positive spin on this first: it has some okay action scenes. It’s got some good design and visuals. And if you’re a fan of the Hellboy comics, maybe you’ll get some joy from seeing some of that stuff on screen.

And that’s kind of it.

I’ve heard some people say, “At least the acting from the lead is good!” I’m going to have to chalk that up to a Your Mileage May Vary thing, because I didn’t find any of the acting in this movie to be particularly outstanding. It’s not terrible, mind you, but there was nothing in it that made me say, “Wow, David Harbour did a fantastic job!” At most, there were some performers who looked like they had fun on set.  Maybe it’s because the acting is betrayed by terrible scripting.

I don’t want to compare this movie to the comics it’s adapted from, because you shouldn’t constantly compare an adaptation to its source material; they’re separate texts. But the makers of the movie kept inviting that comparison. And yeah, you can see from which characters are present and where the plot takes cues from comics, but it rings hollow. “We have Ben Daimio!” Yeah, but you made him British, gave him a different personality, and made his werejaguar form a powerup rather than a curse that’s the worst thing to happen to the BPRD. “We have Alice Monaghan!” Yeah, but instead of an Irish woman who doesn’t age and has a strange connection with the faeries, she’s a British woman that talks to dead people. It’s the shape of the story and the characters, but with different substance. Which wouldn’t be bad if the substance was actually, y’know, good.

Another problem was this film claimed it was going back to the horror genre, instead of the dark fantasy of Guillermo del Toro’s films (again, claiming this was a callback to the comics). But if that’s the case, then it’s the worst kind of horror. There’s barely anything atmospheric about the scenes. This is not the subtle, gothic horror the comics have, or the chilling Lovecraftian horror it delves into. It’s just monsters tearing people limb from limb whenever they’re on screen, spraying blood everywhere. It’s not scary, and it’s disturbing that it happens so often. The film seems to think it’s cool, waving its violence in your face like a child showing you a new toy. But this wasn’t made by children, so it’s just annoying. 

The plot isn’t strong either. It’s adapted from my favorite arc in the comics, but it’s one of the penultimate stories, so using it as a starting point for a film makes very little sense and has the movie doing the film equivalent of cramming before the exam. So often Hellboy will arrive somewhere, and someone will explain who they are and some part of critical backstory, usually with a flashback sequence. So much of this movie is made up of flashbacks, and I’m not sure why. Why did they choose to tell a story that relies so much on previous information, instead of just doing movies about one of those flashbacks?

All of this I might be able to handwave if I liked the characters enough, but I don’t. Hellboy is a whiny, annoying dick who keeps making “witty” comments that make you want to hit him. You know the kind of guy (and it’s usually a guy in my experience) who just won’t stop cracking jokes, almost all of which are not funny, and refuses to shut up no matter what’s going on? That’s how Hellboy is in this movie. The few moments he does get serious feel heavy-handed and tacked on.

He’s also really dumb. He gets easily distracted, and when the Blood Queen talks to him for the first time about how life’s not fair for people like them, he immediately starts whining about how people think he’s a monster and how the bloodthirsty vampires and zombies and demons he’s killed are his “brothers and sisters.” Early on the Osiris Club pretty much admits point blank that they’re sworn to kill him, and then he gets surprised when they stab him in the back.

The side characters aren’t much better. Alice is the annoying spunky girl who Hellboy keeps around by virtue of being the one character other than Bruttenholm who doesn’t want him dead on sight. Daimio is alright, but he’s just a grumpy surly douchebag who’s there to learn that Hellboy’s not so bad after all and doesn’t actually contribute anything plot-wise. Bruttenholm is--

[rubs head]

Look, okay: Ian McShane as Trevor Bruttenholm is such a weird choice that it boggles my mind. They’re going a different direction with the character. Okay, fine. But the way Ian McShane plays him looks like it’s going for the ‘stern and distant father who ultimately cares about his sone more than anything in the world even if he’s a bit of a dick about it.’ Except what they end up getting with his performance is just ‘he’s a dick.’ And his relationship with Hellboy is supposed to be the emotional center of the movie. 

I think, at its core, the movie is trying to distance itself from the Guillermo del Toro films. Which again, wouldn’t be bad if it weren’t for the fact that they do it in the worst ways possible. This film wants to not to repeat the kindly old man Bruttenholm of del Toro’s Hellboy? Let’s make him a bristly douchebag! Getting away from the Hellboy and Liz love story that’s not in the comics anyway? Let’s not have a romance subplot (which is fine!) and instead add a female companion that’s annoying! And instead of an origin story, like with del Toro’s first film, it gives a quick summation of Hellboy’s backstory twenty minutes into the story and doesn’t bother explaining much other than he’s destined to end the world. For Reasons.

They could have made a Hellboy movie that was all of the things they wanted AND a good film. I think it’s definitely possible to make a movie that’s closer to the original comics, and completely different from the del Toro films, was rife full of horror elements, and was a great movie all rolled into one. But that isn’t this movie. This movie’s a mess of a project that makes me shake my head.

I can only recommend if you’re a fan of the original comics and are curious to see how it all went wrong, or to see some of the monsters from the comic art brought to life on screen. But for everyone else? Steer clear. It’s not worth your time or attention. 

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #13: To Tend the Flame

Prompt: wax | Master Post | On AO3

Notes: Spoilers for Shadowbringers MSQ and spoilers for the Binding Coils of Bahamut side story.

She first noticed it during the battle at Laxan Loft, but it’s not until they reach Il Mheg that Synnove really paid attention to the new aether curling and weaving amongst her own.

Oddly enough, it’s not the Lightwarden’s. That had felt ice-sharp and rotten-soft at the same time, white to the point of pain and not singing but screeching of broken glass and denied, raging hunger. No, that aether sat in the core of herself, sulking and bitter, but otherwise not influencing her spells.

No, this aether was…warm. Fiery, but the welcome flame of a campfire in the night, or the hearth of a well-loved home. She outright dismissed it as Ifrit’s aether leaking from Ivar; that was too distinctive and too familiar. This new aether was familiar, too, and the way it intertwined among her own, yet remains separate, reminded her of a primal’s lingering touch, so clearly at some point she had come into contact with it.

There was a niggle of an idea at the back of her mind. The hypothesis was set; now to observe.

First: the Dreadwyrm’s aether coalesced much faster. Previously, she had needed to trance at least twice to build up sufficient reserves to (grudgingly) indulge Ivar and use him as the core to summon Demi-Bahamut to the field. Now she only needed to trance just the once. Ivar, at least, was delighted by this change, her bloodthirsty, rage-filled boy.

(And at least she’d stopped having panic attacks every time she’d needed to activate that array.)

Second: the new, strange aether reached peak coalescence only after she had finished coalescing Dreadwyrm aether, and then dissipating it with a summon of Demi-Bahamut. In fact, she couldn’t even tap into Dreadwyrm aether again until she’d tranced with the new aether.

Third: while trancing with the new aether, it affected two of her spells. Outburst was a relatively new creation that the aetherochemistry department had only recently finalized; Synnove had offered to field test it shortly before she and the others had been whisked away to the First. That spell fluctuating due to an unexpected outside influence was unusual, considering how rigorously the Guild tested and developed their arrays, but not impossible. Ruin III, however, was an old standby, a tried and true blast of pure, unaspected power reserved for the most talented members of the Guild that had been in circulation for years. The only arrays more stable were the ones for the rest of the Ruin series and the standard carbuncle summons they gave to the baby arcanists (who weren’t insane overachievers like herself who had to write her own from scratch).

And it wasn’t just subtle effects. No, both Ruin III and Outburst were unaspected; arcanists liked working without the interference of specific elemental affinities, or alternatively with an equal amount of each kind so that they all canceled one another out, it made the math behave. (There was a bloody good reason she’d run into the wall on her artificial aether infusion project: working with elementally aspected aether was essentially working with literal fucking chaos and sometimes it was fun, but sometimes it just sucked.) This new surge of primal aether turned her respectable, unaspected spells into roiling balls of fire and pitch.

Ivar, of course, loved it. Heron and Alakhai, who also preferred to fight in the melee, not so much.

Fourth: the aether sang, as it always did. It reminded her very strongly of the Dreadwyrm aether’s dirge-like ballad, but this aether’s song was slower, more solemn. Wordless crooning matched with the resonant tones of an Ishgardian pipe organ. It was a funeral hymn: no rage, only deep, boundless sorrow, and a bottomless well of love.

Observations complete, she compared the data sets the night they vanquished Titania, absently rubbing her chest every so often as she did. The carbuncles curled up around her in various stages of patience—Galette in her usual spot around her neck, Tyr loafed next to her, Ivar sprawled in her lap and reaching up to either bat at his sister’s tails or his brother’s ears—as she set up the portable readout device she’d thankfully packed back on the Source. Synnove flipped open her grimoire sitting on the ground next to her on the opposite side of Tyr, paging through until she got to the first page of the arrays for Ivar’s passive sensor programming.

Humming quietly, she took the channeling stylus from her mouth, and placed the tip on the activation sigil. The array lit up, and so did the readout device, pulsing out a hologram that scrolled through the most recent aether readings. Synnove squinted as she skimmed the data, scratching Tyr’s neck until the big carbuncle turned into a happy puddle of brass purrs.

Then she called up data from nearly four years ago.

“Synnove?”

She looked up, only a little startled, to meet Alisaie’s worried gaze.

“Is everything all right?” said Alisaie.

Synnove looked back at the data, gnawing on her lower lip as the implications of the data sunk in. She let out a slow breath and said, “Don’t know yet. Fetch your brother, please, the both of you need to see this.”

Alisaie, Twelve bless her, didn’t hesitate, just turned and hurried off to find Alphinaud. She returned with her twin in a handful of minutes to the spot out in the fields surrounding Lydha Lran that Synnove had settled in to review her notes. By the time they reached her, Synnove had pulled up both data sets onto the viewer at once. She gestured, and the siblings both sat in front of her.

“So,” said Synnove, setting down her channeling stylus carefully to ensure the tip still touched the activation sigil of the array, “I’ve noticed a peculiar bit of aether mixing with my own recently and no, it’s not the Lightwarden’s.”

Alphinaud and Alisaie’s looks of alarms quickly subsided, in favor of concern and interest as Synnove outlined for them the changes she noted. Then she pointed to the readout device.

“The display on the left is the recent data Ivar’s passive sensors have recorded,” she said. “I’m sure Galette and Tyr’s would read the same, but since Ivar is the only one installed with the Dreadwyrm Protocols, he has the most complete set.”

Alphinaud scratched Tyr behind the ears, as the big carbuncle had crawled forward for pettings during Synnove’s explanation. “And I note that it’s exactly the same as the display on the right,” he said.

Synnove hummed agreement, rhythmically running her hand down Ivar’s back from his head to the base of his tails

Alisaie sat with her arms crossed, just staring at the displayed data. Finally, she said, “The data from the right is from the Binding Coils, isn’t it?”

“It is,” said Synnove, quiet and serious.

“That’s,” and Alisaie swallowed, “that’s Phoenix’s aether.”

“I believe so.”

Alphinaud didn’t look as rattled as his twin, but Synnove had known him long enough to spot the tension around his mouth and eyes. “Why now?” he said. “You’ve been using the Dreadwyrm Protocols for a number of years by now, so why has Phoenix’s aether remained dormant for so long?”

“My best guess,” said Synnove, “is because we’re here on the First. Eorzea is upfront about the fact that Dalamud’s fall and Bahamut’s rampage unquestionably fucked up the continent both on a physical and metaphysical level. The rest of our home star claims suddenly only having a single moon in the sky after the second one blew up a few miles directly above the surface had no effect on their magicks and aether, but we can all three agree that they’re probably trying to save face to a bunch of foreigners how mucked up things got for them, because that is a load of chocobo shite.”

Alphinaud coughed, smothering a smile, as Alisaie momentarily forgot her distress and snickered loudly.

“Bahamut’s aether didn’t just insinuate itself into everyone at Carteneau,” continued Synnove, continuing to pet Ivar and reaching up with her other hand to scratch behind Galette’s ears. Both carbuncles purred happily. “And it didn’t just insinuate itself into everyone in Eorzea, though I’ll grant that Eorzeans have the highest concentrations. No, Bahamut’s aether is everywhere on the Source; it’s permeated every rock and tree and beastkin and Spoken.

“It’s always been too easy to coalesce Dreadwyrm aether; when I’ve run through my own aetheric reserves, I can still use the Protocols without much fuss. If I was only ever using the aether comingled with my own, I should run out, but I don’t. Thus, I have to be unconsciously drawing upon the Dreadwyrm aether all around me.”

“But here on the First,” said Alphinaud, thoughtful, “Bahamut’s aether only exists in you and us Scions. I have noticed you still have had no issues using the Protocols, so we can assume you are able to draw on the Dreadwyrm aether within us and the others.”

Synnove inclined her head to him. “Just so.”

“So, with a finite amount of Dreadwyrm aether,” said Alisaie, “Phoenix’s aether is finally detectable, and even able to exert influence and become usable with the dissipation of Bahamut’s. And with how quickly and how strong it coalesces, it needs to be dissipated in turn before repeating the cycle.”

“That is my theory for what’s occurring,” said Synnove. “And, of course, I’ve noticed it steadily growing stronger and more stable since this began. No doubt it’ll continue to do so, although at the moment I couldn’t tell why.”

The twins shared a long, silent look. Alphinaud raised a single eyebrow. Alisaie nodded.

They turned back to her, their expressions serious, but the gleam of excitement was in their eyes. Synnove recognized it and grinned; bless their nerdy hearts, her darling little sibs.

“What would you like to do with this, Synnove?” said Alphinaud.

“And how can we help?” said Alisaie.

“Well,” drawled Synnove, “we’ll need to build some arrays to control how Phoenix’s aether warps my spells when I’m trancing with it. And then, I believe, we should prepare for the day when his aether has grown strong enough that Phoenix will fly the skies of the First as he once did at Carteneau to vanquish Bahamut, with all the prayers of Eorzea to guide him. If you two are all right with that?”

The twins dove forward to embrace her; Galette squwaked unhappily at being jostled, but they ignored her. Synnove returned their hugs, smiling, and tucked them in under her arms. Tyr immediately came over to flop across all three of their laps.

“You’re the only one I’d trust with it,” Alisaie said.

“We couldn’t think of anyone better suited,” added Alphinaud.

“Thank you,” Synnove said, as heartfelt and honored as she could. “Now then, my fellow nerds, let’s get to it!”

[dfroza]

A True story of Light and eternal Love:

“Know this, dear brothers and sisters: the good news I brought to you isn’t the latest in fiction or the product of some creative mind. It is not a legend I learned or one that has been passed down from person to person, ear to ear. I was gifted with this message as Jesus the Anointed revealed Himself miraculously to me.”

A set of lines from Today’s reading of the Scriptures in the New Testament Letter of Galatians (chapter 1:11-12 in The Voice)

with the whole first chapter in The Message:

I, Paul, and my companions in faith here, send greetings to the Galatian churches. My authority for writing to you does not come from any popular vote of the people, nor does it come through the appointment of some human higher-up. It comes directly from Jesus the Messiah and God the Father, who raised him from the dead. I’m God-commissioned. So I greet you with the great words, grace and peace! We know the meaning of those words because Jesus Christ rescued us from this evil world we’re in by offering himself as a sacrifice for our sins. God’s plan is that we all experience that rescue. Glory to God forever! Oh, yes!

I can’t believe how you waver—how easily you have turned traitor to him who called you by the grace of Christ by embracing an alternative message! It is not a minor variation, you know; it is completely other, an alien message, a no-message, a lie about God. Those who are provoking this agitation among you are turning the Message of Christ on its head. Let me be blunt: If one of us—even if an angel from heaven!—were to preach something other than what we preached originally, let him be cursed. I said it once; I’ll say it again: If anyone, regardless of reputation or credentials, preaches something other than what you received originally, let him be cursed.

Do you think I speak this strongly in order to manipulate crowds? Or court favor with God? Or get popular applause? If my goal was popularity, I wouldn’t bother being Christ’s slave. Know this—I am most emphatic here, friends—this great Message I delivered to you is not mere human optimism. I didn’t receive it through the traditions, and I wasn’t taught it in some school. I got it straight from God, received the Message directly from Jesus Christ.

I’m sure that you’ve heard the story of my earlier life when I lived in the Jewish way. In those days I went all out in persecuting God’s church. I was systematically destroying it. I was so enthusiastic about the traditions of my ancestors that I advanced head and shoulders above my peers in my career. Even then God had his eye on me. Why, when I was still in my mother’s womb he chose and called me out of sheer generosity! Now he has intervened and revealed his Son to me so that I might joyfully tell non-Jews about him.

Immediately after my calling—without consulting anyone around me and without going up to Jerusalem to confer with those who were apostles long before I was—I got away to Arabia. Later I returned to Damascus, but it was three years before I went up to Jerusalem to compare stories with Peter. I was there only fifteen days—but what days they were! Except for our Master’s brother James, I saw no other apostles. (I’m telling you the absolute truth in this.)

Then I began my ministry in the regions of Syria and Cilicia. After all that time and activity I was still unknown by face among the Christian churches in Judea. There was only this report: “That man who once persecuted us is now preaching the very message he used to try to destroy.” Their response was to recognize and worship God because of me!

The Letter of Galatians, Chapter 1 (The Message)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 65th chapter of the book (scroll) of Isaiah that points to the creation of new heavens and a new earth and forgetting what is past (tense):

Eternal One: I was ready and willing to help before anyone even asked.

I was found by people who did not seek Me;

I showed My face and said, “Here I am! I am right here!”

to a nation which did not call on Me.

I kept extending Myself to a people who don’t care a whit.

All day long I opened my hands to those who constantly work against Me,

Those busy pursuing their own rotten path, inspired by their own rotten schemes.

These people continue to insult Me, right to My face,

pursuing other gods, sacrificing in gardens

And offering incense on altars made of bricks.

They sit among the graves and spend their nights in secret rituals;

they eat the flesh of pigs and pollute their pots with unclean meats.

They have the gall to say, “Oooh, not so close! I am holier than you!”

These unholy people are smoke in My nostrils,

A fire that burns and burns all day.

Look and see what stands written before Me:

“I will not remain silent and watch this disgrace;

But I will pay them back for what they have done.

I will pour their pay directly into their laps.

They will pay for their sins and the sins of their parents too.

For they turned to other gods, burned incense on the mountains

And insulted Me on the hillsides.

I will bring everything they deserve back to them, to their very core.”

This is what the Eternal has to say:

Eternal One: It’s like noticing the promise of new wine in a cluster of grapes.

One will say, “Don’t destroy them all; some of them are bound to be good.”

So for the sake of My servants,

I won’t destroy absolutely everyone.

But I will bring up children from Jacob’s line to inherit this land.

To Jacob’s son Judah I will give My mountains.

These, My chosen ones, will inherit it;

these, My servants, will live there and call it home.

From the plains of Sharon to the valley of Achor,

My people—who look to Me and no other—

Will have pasture for their sheep

and safe places for their herds.

But those of you who ignore Me, the Eternal One—

who turn away from My sanctuaries

And reject My holy mountain

to chase Lady Luck and cater to Destiny—

Will find yourselves a bit unlucky and your destiny an early death.

You’ll bow down and be killed like sheep brought to the slaughter

Because when I called you, you did not answer;

when I spoke, you refused to listen.

Instead you did all the wrong things and made terrible choices—

what I expressly said that I hate.

So this is what the Lord, the Eternal, has to say:

Eternal One: My servants will eat and eat well, while you go hungry;

My servants will drink and be satisfied, while you are parched with thirst;

My servants will celebrate with joy, while you are put to shame.

My servants will sing with gladness in their hearts,

While you cry out in anguish and despair and bemoan your brokenness.

And when you are gone, your name will become a curse—

a repugnant byword—to My chosen people;

The Eternal God will put you to death

and call His servants by a new name altogether.

Whoever speaks a blessing in this special land

will invoke the God of truth;

Whoever takes a vow in the land of promise

will make his pledge by the God of truth.

For the bitterness and pain of earlier times will nevermore come to mind;

they’ll be hidden even from My eyes, God says.

Eternal One: Now look here!

I am creating new heavens and a new earth.

The weary and painful past will be as if it never happened.

No one will talk or even think about it anymore.

So take joy and celebrate with unending gladness

on account of what I am creating.

Look carefully! I am making this place I’ve chosen, this Jerusalem, a city of joy.

I’m making her citizens, My people, a people of gladness.

This Jerusalem, My pride and joy, and her people will be a delight to Me.

Though you listen at every corner,

You will never hear crying, never hear despair or grief.

Never again will a person not live a full life,

for the young will live to be a hundred

And any who die earlier will be considered cursed.

People will confidently build houses and make them their homes;

they will plant vineyards and enjoy their fruit for years to come.

They won’t worry that someone else will come along, drive them out,

and take it all away.

For My people will live as long as these age-old trees;

My chosen will use up and wear out whatever they make.

They will not work hard for what others take away;

they will not lose children to sudden terror and death.

For they are the offspring of those blessed by the Eternal;

they and their descendants will enjoy God’s blessings.

I’ll anticipate their prayers and respond before they know it;

even as they speak, I will hear.

But they’ll all eat together like friends—wolf and lamb, lion and ox,

and the biting snake will feed on dust.

When that day arrives, there will be no evil, no violence, no hurt or wrong

in all My sacred mountain.

The Book (Scroll) of Isaiah, Chapter 65 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Thursday, August 12 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A set of posts by John Parsons that looks at humility and turning the heart to God for healing:

The advent of the “Season of Teshuvah” reminds us that we all fail, that we all are broken people, and that errors and mistakes are part of our daily spiritual life... We journey toward humility rather than struggle for perfection; we confess our need for forgiveness and seek reconciliation with all those we might have harmed... During this season it is common enough to hear messages about our need to turn and draw near to God for life, but it is equally important to remember that God turns and draws near to the brokenhearted for consolation. As it is said, the Lord is near to the nishbar lev (נִשְׁבָּר לֵב), the one with a broken and crushed heart (Psalm 51:17).

Brokenness is the means through which God performs some of His deepest work within our hearts. A.W. Tozer once said, "It is doubtful whether God can bless a man greatly until he has hurt him deeply." Likewise Alan Redpath once wrote, "When God wants to do an impossible task, he takes an impossible individual – and crushes him." William James called this deep work of the spiritual life Zerrissenheit, a term that roughly can be translated as "torn-to-pieces-hood," or a state of being utterly broken and in disarray... The brokenhearted live in day-to-day dependence upon God for the miracle... [Hebrew for Christians]

Perhaps you (like me) once learned Psalm 19:7 as, "The law of the LORD is perfect, converting the soul." However, the Hebrew text might better be translated as, "The instruction (i.e., Torah) of the LORD is perfect, returning the soul." This is the message of teshuvah (תְּשׁוּבָה), or "repentance," of course. We turn away from ourselves to discover that only the love of God given in Yeshua gives life to our dead hearts (Mark 1:15). Teshuvah is therefore first of all a matter of faith, of trusting in the miracle of God. And though it is indeed a great gift from heaven, it requires that we pass through the "narrow gate" of humility by confessing the truth about who we are (Matt. 7:13). We turn away from our pride; we acknowledge our inner poverty, our neediness, and we mourn over the loss and hurt caused by our sin. Teshuvah turns us away from our attempts to defend or justify ourselves and instead turns to God to heal our separation from love (Rom. 8:3-4). The miracle of love buries our old nature and transforms us into a new creation (2 Cor. 5:17). [Hebrew for Christians]

8.11.21 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

August 12, 2021

God Our Savior

“But after that the kindness and love of God our Saviour toward man appeared.” (Titus 3:4)

Six times in the pastoral epistles Paul refers to God (evidently meaning the Father) as our Savior (1 Timothy 1:1; 2:3; 4:10; Titus 1:3; 2:10; 3:4). Usually, however, he and the other New Testament writers identify Jesus Christ as our Savior. “But grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ” (2 Peter 3:18, for example). In the same fashion, Paul relates that his commission to preach the gospel came from “God our Saviour” (Titus 1:3), while elsewhere he says his commission came “by the revelation of Jesus Christ” (Galatians 1:12).

Is this a contradiction? No! In fact, references to God as our Savior should not surprise us, for it is found in numerous places in the Old Testament. (See, for example, Psalm 106:21.) Furthermore, our understanding of the Trinity insists that all three persons of the Godhead are One in God. Of course, Christ made many references to the fact that He was not acting on His own but came to do “the will of him that sent me” (John 6:38). Paul himself seemed to be comfortable with this seeming overlap, for in one sentence he wrote, “God our Saviour;...Grace, mercy, and peace, from God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ our Saviour” (Titus 1:3-4). Such usages further confirm also that Jesus is God.

While Christ was the primary instrument of salvation as the perfect sacrifice for sin, God the Father is the source of all human salvation, and the application of the title Savior to Him is proper. Indeed, we derive great comfort as we see the role of all three Persons of the Godhead involved in our salvation.

“Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins” (1 John 4:10). JDM

[ratherhavetheblues]

INGMAR BERGMAN’s WAITING WOMEN “The distress button is broken”

© 2021 by James Clark

     Our film today, Waiting Women (1952), will forever be understood as only a “minor” effort due to being an early film in Ingmar Bergman’s history and therefore supposedly lacking in the full sophistication of those titles having convinced the ‘experts’ to be the best. Here’s the difficulty of that position. There is no evolution of his gifts. They began exploding world history from day one, and have marched across many decades in hopes that his dramas would find those aware that a catastrophic myopia has left planet earth to remain a “minor” phenomenon.

Within such strictures, the artist has shown that even a dying planet can supply light years of fruition. The way of such supply is truly majestic. As we touch upon our early hope today, we soon realize that one of Bergman’s most rich manifolds has spread its dark and persistent invitation to us at this site. Three women, waiting in a fine Swedish summer cottage for the annual arrival of the spouses, they being Marta, Rakel and Karin, have a mind to entertain their friends with vignettes of their past. (Before hearing this remarkably candid series of earthquakes, we have, for the asking, other such women occupying those names, in other films by Bergman. Another Marta, having been a professional symphonic musician, and going on to [feebly] transcend the pitfalls of showy skills, appears in the film, To Joy [1951]. Another Rakel, having been a professional actress on the stage, and going on to declare that the theatre is shit and sees fit to commit suicide, appears in the film, After the Rehearsal [1984]. A Karin, having resisted heavy pressure from her family to become a solo cellist, opts for being a very small-town classical orchestra player, which leaves her a pariah and seen to be responsible for her father’s suicide, appears in, Saraband [2003]. All three films are discreetly shot through with incest.) Waiting Women, deletes the arts in favor of big business. But incest races apace  there, and its malignancy brings corporate advantage and pedantry to a fresh critical perspective.

By way of a tonal cue, the preamble pertains to very young children being hidden in play along the shore and thereby a worry. The kids embrace the hidden side, and gently (this being the area of gentrification) reap a scolding from the forces of pedestrian safety. Later, when dusk falls and the mysterious forest and sky are given a quick view, the darkness speaks to no one on the premises.

Not that the startling is entirely absent. But, as we get down to business, the startling, here, brings dangers of serious destruction. The aspect of incest in the few films we find ourselves in the midst of, consists of only one of the ravages bearing down upon a population rife with crude advantage. Once again, as so often, our guide tries to take us by the hand and confront the ravenousness needing to be outmaneuvered. These films do not present the traditional soothing which mainstream film viewers crave. In sharp contrast—along with scintillating drama—we meet an endeavor as to an unsung ontology (an unsung dynamics), where mathematics are not the rule and paradox go to school, forever! The several surprising approaches punctuating the scenario, with touches of cosmic, ironic force, offer the viewer a highway of daring, not for shut ins, not for pedantic, “intellectual” craving.

   Those worried women compose a gaggle of patricians (the credits showing a rococo idyll), being a major target of Bergman’s critique. This film, in fact, being a vigorous scrutiny of that social power-play, rotten to the core. The women at the seashore are in anticipation of the arrival of the moneybags about to grace an instance of idleness and lavishness. They think to improve—one of them cursing her fate about a dull spouse—by commiseration in the failings of their households. In doing so, the women reveal that their attentions are, with a slight exception, feeble. But this being Bergman, strengths also reign, to possible rich enlightenment.

   With the rubric in the air, “It can’t be meant to be that way,” Rakel, addressing the group, begins with, “You’re not as unique as you as you think…I remember the day Eugene and I were forced to wake up and face the situation. It was both ridiculous and appalling. But that’s nothing to talk about…” More naïve interjection insists, “Why not? We can learn something about each other, and thereby make it easier living together during our vacation and maybe afterwards as well…” Rakel—a lady with a bombshell—takes a breath and remarks, “Well, if you want to… It was two years ago. Eugene and I were alone out there that summer. Eugene was writing his history thesis, and I took care of the house. Upstairs and idle at her mirror, her brother Kaj walks in. ‘Good day, little Rakel.’” (The relationship is never explicit, but on the other hand it is crystal clear.) “Where’s your wife?” she demands. His statement of fact is, “She can’t make it. She didn’t feel well with her pregnancy.” Another statement of fact is by Rakel, namely, “Eugene has gone to town.” (Kaj is there for another going to town.) As to Eugene’s studies, the visitor sneers, “Colossally interesting!” She maintains, “Eugene has always been interested in antiques”[and their capacity to deliver quiet treasures].  That he’s despised by the affluent family having to keep Rakel and her supposedly useless husband afloat, becomes another “Colossally interesting” juncture, namely a license to make love to his sister. He fondles her neck. And soon, after feeble resistance, they share a passionate kiss. He continues, “You’re just like when we were kids. You’re as soft and indulgent. Just as pretty and fragrant. And just as flushed and irritated afterwards.” Her stance, as it veers crazily, comes to, “No, thanks, Kaj. That’s good enough.” (She goes back to the dresser and her image in the mirror flies wild and ignored.) “You’re probably talented and wonderful; but I’m very much in love with Eugene…” He, not to be fooled upon this matter, quietly rebuts, “I can tell by your nose that you’re lying.” She feebly cries, “I really do love him… Get away… And you have a wife…” The unrepentant crasher ridicules his sister with, “You have pangs, Rakel, yes, of morality.” This hard-core soap opera says very little of interest about those in action, but very much about a planet needing to drop dead. Nostalgic Kaj perseveres with, “They [the pangs] are located in your stomach, and can be operated on like your appendix… Have you told your husband we were in love when we were young?” (Apparently the matter had been smoothed over by illusion that they were only toddlers.) He rushes to her gut. She holds him there. (Far less emphatic is her spiel. “No, it’s madness! Don’t you understand? It can’t be like this.”) A fiery kiss follows. He’s brought his swimming trunks and they come to the boat house. She locks the door. Before she takes a swim by way of an egress in the floor, he tells her  of a couple whose intensity of lovemaking kills them. He adds, ‘They had strokes… It’s a moral story. It shows the danger of longing.” He claims to be citing Freud. (In Saraband [2003], another bizarre Freud note is struck. Bergman’s seeing the famous exponent of sensibility to be bogus. Rakel calls Kaj’s story “dumb.” His point being that fooling around is the best policy.) Do you remember the time in our childhood when we laid here in the sun completely naked, and compared each other’s shape? We were eight years old. You remember…” She adds, “And [my] dad knocked on the door and said we weren’t allowed to be alone. He had a big hat. And that night there was a thunderstorm. The flagpole snapped in half and burned up.” (Poetry and the putrid intense.) Rakel’s painful appreciation of the “dumb” is too little and too late. “I’ve only been unfaithful toward Eugene once before. It was completely wrong. It will always be completely wrong for me. Something is probably wrong with me. I don’t know. Eugene becomes impatient and berates me.” She looks at Kaj. “Do you think it’s strange?”/ “No, not really…”/ “It was the same time I was unfaithful, needing warmth. I’m probably completely hopeless. Even though I do everything Eugene wants, neither him nor I are happy… When you grabbed me up there in the room, and pressed your head against my stomach… it was so strange [now not completely wrong?]. You have to be nice to me.” Kaj the reasoner, promises, “I’ll be just like you want.” He kisses her shoulder from behind. Fade to the moonlight on the water. The water’s stature. Their statures elsewhere.

  Next day the roaming brother-in-law bests Eugene at shooting targets at a bull’s-eye. The unflappable intruder sees no need to be modest about his shooting. “I can crown myself champion now.” (Champion of what? Champion of destruction being too gutless to grow up? Certainly being useless in managing dynamics.) Earlier that day, Rakel had mastery of their sailboat. An athlete, but incomplete. Eugene is surprised to hear that Rakel was skittish in a blustery sea. Over drinks she smashes her glass. “It’s disgusting, disgusting, disgusting…,” she shouts. (Eugene is alarmed.) She asks Kaj, “How can you? What kind of a man are you?” His response is spot on: “A bastard, like everyone else. Nothing.” She counters, “No, you’re a coward. A terrible coward.” (A moment to savor a hilt of human corruption.) On the winds of her courage, Rakel flashes out, “That’s why I’m going to tell Eugene that we cheated on him today… You think I enjoy sleeping with you, don’t you? Because you’re a nice, talented and considerate lover. But let me tell you something, Kaj. You disgust me. And you’re not a good lover… You only love yourself. Only yourself, and nobody else in the entire world. Only yourself.” He retorts, “If I’m disgusting, so are you, my dear, Rakel. (Bergman in full flight. A nuclear meltdown, as only he could frame it. And a toss away of melodramatic hopelessness. All in the service of taking the step away from dotage to religion and science, and their pedantry, their advantage and their flaming cowardice.) The incestuous patrician insists, “You needed that. Eugene always denied you.” (Maybe he didn’t find intercourse the most important thing in the world.) “And I gave it to you. And now you mock me afterwards…” (A case for an ombudsman?)

   The aftermath comprises a triumph of sorts, in making what some folks call reality. “You slept with him?” the bookworm asks./ “Yes, Eugene, I cheated on you. And I’m not asking for your forgiveness.” Eugene’s fragile notion of pedantry does not stomach full bore errantry. “You have destroyed my entire existence. You, the only person I ever trusted.” He swings into divorce matters which do not maintain the pepper. “The one thing I can’t stand is to be exposed to others” [to fail in pedantry and advantage]. He suddenly covers his face. Rakel kneels by his seat. “What is it? Can I help you?… Can you realize that we have to try and get through this together. We have to forgive each other. I know we can, if we want to, you and me.” (His mind turns to, “I should probably have a talk with Kaj’s poor wife. It’s unnecessary for her to walk through life unaware, like I have.”)  “Don’t do anything you might regret.” At this point we have an impressive form of blustery sea within their hearts. As to regret, Eugene can’t resist saying, “You’re one to talk! If I wanted, I could kill you. It would feel liberating.”/ She tells him, “You’re just a bastard! I don’t know what’s become of me, but I’ve probably gone mad. Why should I help you? I’m not your property that you can treat as you want.” He rushes toward her. He grabs the gun and runs out to a nature he doesn’t deserve. After a farcical rescue by a more measured soul, the latter floats the dubious notion, “The worst is not to be deceived but to be alone.” As we slog through this hugely presumptions, and not all that unusual family, “to be alone” seems pretty good.

   Back in “real time,” Rakel tells the ladies, “We shouldn’t be affected by men’s silly need for prestige and secrecy. We should talk to each other more openly and more often.” As to her unusual background and tastes, discretion reigns questionably. “You might think the story seems ridiculous. And it probably is.” But does “ridiculous” well cover the action. (In another episode to come, at another family gala, the leading light of the corporation is heard to describe Eugene being the black sheep of the family.) Rakel and Eugene subside to near paralysis. But Rakel, the fountain of small gifts, thinks their lives to be quite fine.  She’s asked, “Are things better now than before?”/ “Probably not,” Rakel admits, “for Eugene, but for me.”/ “How do you mean?”/ “I’ve come to realize that Eugene is my child… It’s my duty to take care of him. I feel sorry for him. He suffers greatly from what he calls his meaninglessness… Yet he means everything to me now.” The ladies call this “beautiful.” (She adds, “Sentimental, maybe. I don’t know. But Eugene is my meaning in life. We support each other in that way… It’s very simple.”

   A little turn around the coffee table, and we have Marta, “Kaj’s poor wife.” “Since Rakel has been so brave [another unsound description] to tell of her awakening, I’ll have to show some courage and tell about mine… It was in Paris, three years ago.” Some exacting structure is in play here, due to, not one, but two flashbacks. The Paris incident coming later, while being  chronologically first; the Stockholm incident, with Marta in her eighth month of pregnancy to Kaj, coming to us first. Her first statement is well put: “I had suspicions… I was awakened by the contractions…” She drops a water glass and reaches down to her lovely feet and hands. Those digits could be, if not the most, at least an almost equal to the most important phenomenon in sight. But it takes another, more daring, black sheep to make it shine. She primly packs a small bag and a rather large, framed photo of Kaj. (A premature birth on tap.) Someone, at the frosted glass door, appears and disappears. “There had to be an explanation. Yet I was overcome by a paralyzing fear of dying. And my loneliness was suddenly the loneliness of death ” (Many years later, with the film, Face to Face [1976], that apparition becomes active as a black sheep whom the protagonist needs to know well.) The other singularity is her kitten, whom she palms off to the cares of the maternity department. (Never neglect an animal. It’s your better.) The Marta in the film, To Joy, turns out to be overdependent to family ease and middling skill. Already, in this episode, we hear Kaj (AKA, Martin) unwelcome (the message from Eugene). “Don’t you want to answer? You can’t treat me like I’ve committed a crime… Don’t toy with me. I didn’t know better…”/ “You are the way you are, poor thing. I never want to marry you.”

   Waiting in the hospital for her baby to come, Marta has a reverie of the Paris days. The shadows of dancing leaves on the wall of her room become the dancing women in the cancan dance hall. “I was in Paris again, and in that awful nightclub.” (Young and snobbish.) Splits; but real splits take more than that. Her date is a G.I. who bores her. She has some trouble getting away from the man’s man in order to win a bottle of champagne by holding her thighs around a two-frank piece. Another rich youngster at the club, namely, Kaj, who, Hollywood style, was her neighbor at the hotel, and easily seen to be more saucy than the date, attracts her that night at the Toulouse-Lautrec shrine. She adds, “The Swedish painter who was always so diligent with his paintings, not to mention being of the same language.” (You can, however, have the same wording, without having the same language.) Back at the cancan, the “diligent” had sent a server to her table delivering a becoming sketch of her and the stiff being a Rocky Mountain goat. (Always about advantage.) Marta, from her poor little rich girl perspective, opines, “I had to admit that his indifference toward me irritated me…” (“He was cute.”)

   From there, we have an episode inspired by Audrey Hepburn. She ditches her overreaching date by escaping the parked taxi in leaving the champagne bottle on the street to lure him being left on the pavement, while she returns to the cab and the hotel of the “cute” stranger, the strange romantic. Reaching her bohemian vantage point, we notice the hotel’s name, “Le Tournant,” (the turning)—far more complicated than she had ever imagined. (The enterprise next door to the hotel is called , “singed chops.”) Passing the landing, she enters her room and finds that the lamp doesn’t work. Darkness that she could never have imagined. (She tries a second lamp, only to find nothing—her future.) Moving to the window she’s confronted with a fantasy moonlight. (The moon, a bright curtain and Marta. A task of friskiness never touched. Nevertheless, she raises her arms in some kind of triumph.) That was the moment for Kaj to pounce, carefully. Something comes under the door. She grabs the paper and hears the beginning of his orders. “Open the door, but only a crack.” He presents her with a glass of wine. While she sips her wine, he recites a poem. “Marta is a blossoming tree. She is as bright as a little fish./ Why are your eyes so sad, Marta?” (Perhaps the touch of moonlight presented a problematic he would never know, being a confirmed “Nothing.”) “Your true love is sitting outside, rippling your door in the flickering moonlight./ Right now my love has no limit. Yes, eternal is my love at this moment…” She feels that her unique daring has begun to reap its rewards. (Advantage all over Paris.) “Let me be,” the dubious friend gushes. “Let us play in front of the poor, the sick, the terrible… Let us play in front of death itself… My sister (sic), my bride, my blossoming tree.” He adds some fiddling on his guitar. Then he presents her with a small sculpture in her image. She ventures into the dark hallway, where his hand is illuminated from a strange source, and the arrogance from him, as supported by her, begins the train wreck.

   The whirlwind romance is not without rare beauties of the City of Light. Despite their various superficialities, a strain of ambiguity gives them a fleeting pass of frisson. They begin their tour at Sacre Coeur Basilica and its links to real art. The alphas commandeer a horse-driven cart, setting off their march to the Arc de Triomphe, where serious sacrifice may be noticed. The play of sunlight and shadows from the foliage institutes something deft and loving, far beyond their concerns. At a stand of large, magnificent trees two dead presences along the Seine where they had rented a rowboat. At a lull for a nap in the bottom of the boat, Marta’s thoughts return to her other adventure. The preamble of the departure finds her leaving a gynecologist’s with a big smile on her face. She’s close to the river and immediately goes up to a baby and her mother, enjoying a warm, sunny day. She smiles to the baby, and the baby smiles to her. But when an elderly man also enjoys the company of the baby, Marta, losing her sense of priority, quickly leaves with an angry look. (At the end of the film, we’ll find Marta making a disinterested, generous decision. It is the capacity to make such a gesture, after many faux pas, which matters in this saga of dynamics, where families don’t count. On the other hand, we have the inexplicable mystery of the vanishing of Marta’s child. At the outset of  her episode, Marta’s parents are mentioned going on a vacation. Do they cover that drama?)

   The two are routed by the “iconic” family. (“Martin has chosen the wrong occupation.”) Marta, lost in the shuffle, chooses not to tell of their baby. The sweaty arts at the maternity ward now take over. The waterfall on the Parisian canal reshapes to the birth. Filtering out the strong from the weak becomes a labor that never ends. The nurse encourages Marta to count to five. Another venture consists of that figure at the door, only for grown-ups. (Her baby seen trying to fathom her mother. Squeezing her face. Kaj joins in. He kisses her.) Marta’s baby at the maternity ward. She glowing…  First simple moments of a long, difficult life.

Back at the coffee table, a perception- deficit looms. “That was a real nice story.” (The flashback of this depressive romance is not only outrageous, but it’s lacking in strict temporality.)  The matter is saved by adding, “But why did you end up marrying Martin?”/ “I love him.”/ “You should have lived on your own with your child and fought for yourself. That would have been style!” The opinionated speaker is Maj, Marta’s young sister. She continues, “You ruined it by compromising.” The jumbler argues, “Life isn’t so stylish, dear.”/ “Life is what you make of it.”

   On that note, Karin, wife of the CEO, prepares the women for not having much to tell, but being funny, not a dramatic discovery. At a centennial gala of the corporation, with the Crown Prince in attendance, Karin approaches Kaj, “How’s your wife?” He corrects her, “She isn’t my wife” (technically). One of the other women had remarked she saw Marta in town and she looked to be in the last month. That elicits from the non-black sheep, “So what! She doesn’t care about me. She won’t even talk to me on the phone. I’ve begged her to marry me, but she doesn’t want to. Can you believe it? She says that I’m incorrigible. She won’t even give me a chance.” That was one, inflected, dead-end. Here comes another.

Karin (on the way home) is driving, due to her husband’s having had quite a bit to drink. From the back seat, Fredrik discusses his understanding of “style.” “I’ve made Father’s company into a worldwide organization, which we own 79% of the shares. Personally, I am in the prime of my life, full of job satisfaction, energy and great ideas for the future which appears quite bright… I’m revolutionizing our export industry… I’m a little drunk…” (Karin, played by actress, Eva Dahlbeck, had also played the part of a high spirited and very limited wife to a renowned gynecologist in the film, A Lesson in Love [1951], where her husband was played by actor, Gunnar Bjornstrand, who takes up the role of Fredrik here. She being perfect to tell the 79%, “And you don’t have any friends, either.”) Cruising on, the millionaire brags, “I sleep well. My stomach’s fine [a touch of irony]… Good teeth… It is as if annoyance abruptly fled the moment I showed myself…” She inserts the motion of irony when responding, “You truly are exceptional.” He takes the route of great geniuses, when using the cliché, “No man is great in the presence of their wife.” She ripostes, “God is probably not married.”

That kind of contention will flow beyond the drive and into their elevator, which promptly breaks down. In addition to various slapstick routines related to attempting to escape the little jail, some personal issues of note get illuminated. By way of a profound rubric, we are eventually provided with the repair man telling Fredrik, “The distress button is broken.” The man who will tell you he is always right makes a big mistake, in broaching the matter, “Have you ever been unfaithful to me?” Karin, the wit, of course, would have to say, “Sure,” leaving him to ask, “Really?”/ “And you acknowledge it, just like that!”/ “You asked me.” He goes on, “Has this occurred often with different people?”/ “Yes, of course. What did you think?” Fredrik asks, “Do you have a lover at the moment?” She explains, “I have two, but I don’t know which one to choose… Exciting, don’t you think?” Fredrik becomes annoyed—“I am still your husband.” This opens the question for Karin to ask, “How many times have you been unfaithful to me?” She points her finger at him, and the tone, “the style,” becomes dark. He refuses to touch such a matter, being so remote from his integrity. But that doesn’t stop him from declaring, “I have never been unfaithful to you.” Karin, trying to defuse a moment far from her best, tells him, “What I said was just in fun.” But Mr. Perfect pounces to the tune of, “You don’t have any proof.” This overbearing thrust by him causes her to look for blood. “Actually, I do” [have proof]./ “What?” he challenges./ “Now you’re scared, aren’t you? Well, well, well!” (Cut to Fredrik, shocked.) She hasn’t any more playful style this long night and, after hearing him sneer, “I think you’re bluffing, dear,” she replies, “I’ll just say a name… Diana.” (He sits down, deflated.) She sneers, rather tritely, “He’s blushing like a schoolboy. A little boy caught with his fingers in the cookie jar…” (Advantage without tempering.) His adjustment is, “She was crazy, so it ended very quickly.” Karin adds, “Did you know that that 19-year-old American put two detectives on you? For two years, she watched your every step.” That Karin overdoes the facts—”all your adventures over the last two years… I have the list here in my purse”—becomes, rather than a little joke, a (momentary) trajectory for severing their relationship. He tells her, in this desperate embarrassment, “Almost every episode I’ve had has been fun. I’ve never regretted it. Each of us lives our own lives.”

His leg cramp and her massage is all it takes to recover their famous love. A policy of ironic generosity has reinstated the powers they live for. They live for being two disparate vehicles. When the morning arrives, the custodial crew and a few of the cleaners laugh as the elects ascend to their penthouse.

One other constellation, very unlike those who have shown us the sadness of the weak, bring to us their readiness to meet a new day. Coming to us, first of all, after the story of the plight of Marta, the girl chasing “style,” namely, Maj, is now accompanied by her boyfriend, Henrik, calling her to go out the open window and go a long way. Henrik had just been told by the family high flyers, who shut the door upon Kaj’s surely hopeless arts dabbling, that he was to enroll in a business program at a university. He resolves not to pursue what he might meet in the way of constrictedness (but, on the other hand possibly something quite fascinating). His plans had been to see what the wide world meant. Only running away from the overrated family could fit the bill. Of course, Maj would be his soulmate in plumbing the ways of style. In the confusion of the arrival of the menfolk’s dispensing with introspection (Marta, in a distant shot, passionately hurling herself upon the widespread lover), Marta rushes upstairs to put on better clothes, where she bumps into Maj packing her bag. The brush goes like this: “Are you going to stop me?”/ “Yes, I am.” / “With force?”/ “If necessary… I’m responsible for you.” Maj moves the action to better focus: “Should you talk about responsibility when you’ve been so irresponsible and done so much?”/ “I beg you, Maj…” / “I don’t care. I know what I want…” After a pause, they embrace. After a glitch with the motorboat, they move for their moment. (Cuts between a noisy dance party and the dark, silent waters.) En route, they do have something to say, particularly Maj. “Swear that you’ll always love me as much as tonight.”/ “I swear.”/ “Swear that you’ll never compromise, never stray, never lie, cheat or behave like everybody else.” / “I swear…”/ “Because otherwise we might as well be dead…” Cut to Marta on the veranda, speaking with a quiet reveler who notices the distant departure. She tells him, “They’ll be back in time.” (She covers her face. The water is calm. She is not.) She tells him, “I’m just so happy.” (Yes and no.) A last look at their boat, about to test their seaworthiness, their style, which could mean they won’t be back, pending a ripple of play with nature itself, and an integral play of attending to creature comforts.

[everythingisgreenandsubmarine]

The Epidemic of Over-Explaining Science Fiction

What is wrong with this scene?

Think about this question for a while, because there is a lot wrong with this scene. While the Wachowski siblings did set a precedent for these kind of overly verbose scenes in the first Matrix film, with Morpheus explaining the intricacies of the matrix and the real world, this scene from The Matrix Reloaded perfectly presents the mistake many science fiction films make.

Science fiction is a form of fiction which utilizes fantastic themes, and ideas, which are based on some sort of scientific platform. This includes stories that deal with subjects like time travel, space, futuristic cities, parallel universes, aliens, robot sentience, and much more. As you can imagine, these themes and stories are incredibly complex, intricate, and difficult to pull apart in the context of a 90 to 120 minute film.

The Matrix trilogy is telling the story of Neo, and utilizing religious imagery, and metaphors, to tell a story -- none of this is necessarily subtle. But, at its core, the Matrix films are science fiction films -- the premise of these films are based around a war between robots and humans.

So you've thought about the question that I opened this with; let's return to it. What is wrong with this scene?

In my mind, the existence of this scene is the problem.

As I mentioned before, these themes are incredibly complex. Explaining them within the confines of a relatively short runtime would be futile; films that push the limits of theatrical runtimes (The Matrix being one of them (the trilogy clocks in at 409 minutes in total, or roughly 6.7 hours). So why do writers and directors constantly try to explain their film to the audience? If it is extremely difficult to explain the small details of a sci-fi theme, why try and do it with a scene of expository dialogue?

It's not just The Matrix that suffers from this, as you can imagine. A wide array of modern science-fiction films fall into this trip of over-explaining their plot, or the 'scientific' aspect of their narrative.

This scene from Source Code also helps exemplify what I'm talking about.

The explanation of what "the source code" is doesn't add much to the plot of the film. It only clarifies the scientific aspect of the film, while wasting three minutes in the process. While three minutes may not seem like a lot, when you put it in the context of the film's 93 minute runtime, that's 3% of the film dedicated to a scene which doesn't do much to benefit the film itself. In fact, the majority of the information in this scene is information we, as viewers, are already aware of. 

So essentially what we have in Source Code, like we have in The Matrix Reloaded, like we have in a variety of science-fiction films, is a relatively large portion of the runtime dedicated to just explaining the "science-ey" stuff, if you will, in the plot.

What fun is that? What benefit does that offer us? And, most importantly, why do writers do it?

Let's start with that last question first: why do writers do it? 

There are a number of reasons why writers over-explain elements of their film -- this is true across all genres, not just in science fiction. This comes down to one of three things (or a mix of them):

1. Bad screenwriting habits

The first one is the easiest to dissect: everyone starts out somewhere. It's possible that the screenwriter is either very new to screenwriting, or that they are in the habit of relying on poor screenwriting tricks to tell their story (i.e. using flashbacks to explain plot information, using narration to explain expository details, etc.). This can be fixed with consistent writing, reading screenplays from a variety of writers, and getting constructive criticism on current work.

I recently watched a film called Uncanny, which is available on Netflix, that displays this kind of a amateur reliance on expositional dialogue to explain its scientific narrative. You can even see this in its trailer.

I am even guilty of this with my films. It can be hard, especially with dialogue, to strike a balance between intriguing and clear. You don't want to lose your audience, but you also want to make sure your dialogue is unique, well-written, and crisp. This is difficult to do without practice; that is, both for better and for worse, the only solution to this specific problem.

2. A lack of trust in the target audience

This is a very big part of why so many films, and so many science-fiction films, are being excessively explained. Put simply, writers don't trust you -- or, at least, they don't trust you to understand their themes, or their narrative, without explicit clarity.

This can be seen all throughout big Hollywood films. In an effort to make the most money, and to cater to the widest demographic possible (filmmaking is a business, after all), it is not uncommon for writers to overly-clarify something, especially when it comes to dialogue, so their is no confusion as to what is going on. This is true of films I love, too.

Christopher Nolan is the perfect example of a writer/director (though his brother is often the credited writer on many projects) whose dialogue is unusually on-the-nose and expository. His films are enjoyable, and I find myself consistently impressed with their ambition, and his penchant for cerebral spectacle. However, no one could ever call Christopher Nolan subtle with a straight face.

The same is true of directors like Neil Blomkamp. District 9 is an incredible sci-fi film, and yet it opens with the most boring, expositional scene that is completely devoid of any subtlety. It uses the documentary style for realism, but imparts the same information scrolling text, narration, or dialogue would. In this way, it's not really doing anything different.

There is no real solution to this, because this is most noticeable in high budget films. That means that this problem is intrinsically linked with the final one.

3. Pressure from studios, producers, or financiers

Every filmmaker takes marching orders from someone, and everything in the film business is based around profit. Therefore, a lot of this insistence on clarity and expositional dialogue can be traced back to studios, producers, and financiers.

A studio's, and a producer's, goal is to market their film to a demographic that will make them money, and to invest on projects which will return, and capitalize on, said investment. That is why so many horror films are full of jump-scares and immediate thrills -- that's what audiences want to see right now, and that's what they pay for. That's why superhero films have become as popular as they are, and why so many actors, directors, and producers are jumping into bed with Marvel and DC -- these kinds of films make money, and tons of it.

So, in some respect, it's not surprising that sci-fi films are being over-explained; to get the widest audience possible, you need your material to be widely accessible. If you confuse your viewer, or require that they think about your film after the credits roll, you will lose money.

Hollywood has never been shy about this fact. What is surprising, though, is the widespread acceptance of these kinds of overt explanations, and the rejection of anything that is different, or less-than-overt.

Just compare this scene from the 2016 film, Midnight Special, and any of the other scenes I have presented you with.

Why is he wearing goggles? Why is his dad so forceful with protecting him? Why are their meteors falling to Earth? Why is the child apologizing for it?

This one scene produces so many questions, and yet it refuses to answer any of them. Why? Because the answers aren't important. What is important is that we understand that the kid has some sort of powers, that his father is protecting him from the world, and that they are going somewhere.

Yet none of the above is mentioned explicitly. Except for the ending of the phone call, where Michael Shannon's character says "we'll be there soon", the rest of this information is imparted through tone of voice, the juxtaposition of dialogue and imagery, and editing.

Midnight Special remains like this throughout its runtime. It refuses to answer the simple questions that it seems to raise, and instead does what all great sci-fi stories do: it tells a humanistic story with the backdrop of a fantastical scientific setting.

The critics loved the film, giving it a 76/100 on Metascore, and an 84% on Rotten Tomatoes. So why don't films like this get made very often, especially today? Well, because Midnight Special only made $3.7 million of its $18 million budget back, has a 6.7/10 rating on IMDB, and a 67% audience rating from Rotten Tomatoes. In other words, these films aren't made because they don't make money, and because audiences don't want to see them.

What do audiences want to see? They want to see films like The Martian, which has a 8.0/10 rating on IMDB, a 91% on Rotten Tomatoes. Why do producers want to fund movies like The Martian? Because The Martian made 211% of its budget back at the box office.

I know what you're thinking: "does The Martian have a scene similar, or the same as, the other examples provided?" You bet your ass it does.

Now, I want to grant a couple of things, and, ironically enough, clarify some others.

Firstly, just because a film tends to placate its viewer with palatable metaphors and physical demonstrations, or a ton of dialogue from a character whose only purpose is to explain the film doesn't mean that the film will be bad. I like The Martian, and Interstellar, and many other science-fiction films that have come out, both from Hollywood and from the independent scene. Films are more about the sum of their parts than they are about any specific, individual aspects.

Secondly, with films about space travel or aliens (especially in our current era), there will always be a scene where an organization like NASA has to be involved; because of this, it's guaranteed there will be this kind of dialogue, both to assert the realism of the scenes, and to help clue in the viewer.

However, I do want to posit this notion: are these additions -- the continuous clarification, and explanation of science-fiction narratives -- beneficial to the respective stories as a whole?

Compare the opening of the 2011 film Melancholia to any science-fiction film you've seen recently. Melancholia's opening eight minutes has no dialogue, and no attempts at explanation. And yet, you understand exactly what is happening on a global scale, and you get an intrinsically unique, and intimate, understanding of specific characters.

Compare any of the "explanation" scenes I've described above with the ending scene sequence from Kubrick's masterpiece 2001: A Space Odyssey (complete with the Pink Floyd track "Echoes" synced to the action).

This is twenty-three minutes of perfection, of science-fiction at its finest, most profound, and most beautiful. And yet it offers the viewer no dialogue, no explanations, and little coherence beyond what you are able to glean from the imagery, and the editing. Furthermore, Kubrick refused to explain the ending of the film.

"2001 is a nonverbal experience; out of two hours and nineteen minutes of film, there are only a little less than forty minutes of dialog. I tried to create a visual experience, one that bypasses verbalized pigeonholing and directly penetrates the subconscious with an emotional and philosophic content. To convolute McLuhan, in 2001 the message is the medium. I intended the film to be an intensely subjective experience that reaches the viewer at an inner level of consciousness, just as music does; to "explain" a Beethoven symphony would be to emasculate it by erecting an artificial barrier between conception and appreciation. You're free to speculate as you wish about the philosophical and allegorical meaning of the film - and such speculation is one indication that it has succeeded in gripping an audience at a deep level - but I don't want to spell out a verbal road map for 2001 that every viewer will feel obligated to purchase or else fear he's missed the point. I think that if 2001 succeeds at all, it is in reaching a wide spectrum of people who would not often give a thought to man's destiny, his role in the cosmos and his relationship to higher forms of life. But even in the case of someone who is highly intelligent, certain ideas found in 2001, if presented as abstractions, would fall rather lifelessly and be automatically assigned to pat intellectual categories; as experiences in a moving visual and emotional context, however, they can resonate within the deepest fibers of one's being. "  -- Stanley Kubrick

Kubrick understood the power of science-fiction, of how these scientifically based themes and stories can elevate human thinking, individualized stories, and profound thought. He understood, also, that through buying a ticket to the theater (or nowadays utilizing one of the many streaming services available), the viewer is, in essence, agreeing to give their time, and their thought, to a film. He understood that film is an art form, capable of entertaining, but also capable of imparting wisdom; it is as much upon the filmmaker to understand that as it is for the viewer.

If you would like to take anything away from my thoughts here, I recommend you take this: films can be good when approached from an entertainment-based philosophy (as they currently are). They can be masterpieces when they are approached from an artistic perspective.

Science-fiction has the unique ability to tell incredible, unthinkable stories all while grounded by a scientific platform.

With science-fiction things like time travel, and space travel, and aliens all seem within our grasp, and attainable.

When we use that power just to placate an audience, or an investor, we, as filmmakers, are wasting our time.

[godshipsit]

he /thought/ he was in love, but instead actually obsessed... so did ishim think cas was obsessed with dean but hes actually in love 🤔

ask n. 2   “ishim is a monster incapable of healthy love” That’s why I don’t really like that comparison. They got compared to something that wasn’t really love, but more like a stalker obsessed with a poor woman. 

(This turned way too long, so here’s a recap: I discuss the comparison between Ishim and Cas /and respective relationships with humans/, which tells us who Cas is by contrast; I also draw a parallel between Ishim and Godstiel, aka Cas’ darkest side – that Cas still managed to overcome on his own, because despite everything he’s always had a good heart and good intentions; also, are we supposed to reconsider the nature - platonic or potentially romantic - of Dean and Cas’ relationship in s6?)

Hello there, my friends! Unfortunately, you have just opened a can of worms, since I was writing some meta on the parallel between Ishim and Cas. To answer the first question, well, yes. Ishim (like many angels) doesn’t understand human feelings and emotions. Not only he’s a manipulative and abusive douchebag, he also lacks the experience to understand what love is (Cas, on the other hand, has been human..). So, when he sees the bond between Dean and Cas, he compares it to what he knows. And what does he know? The love he knows is obsession, rotten to the core; the human he wanted never loved him back; he thinks she made him weaker (and this is just textbook abusive behavior). So when he sees how far Cas has fallen (subtext: for a human), of course he thinks Cas is in his same situation. 

You know why we’re meant to stay away from them humans? Hmm? It’s not because we’re a danger to them. They’re a danger to us.

Yeah, he’s talking about both Dean and Sam, but casually Sam is never called Cas’ human weakness (context: we’re talking romantic love, throwback to Metatron saying Cas was in love with… humanity, just to point out one episode later that Cas’ goal was all about saving one human), nor he is in the climatic scene where Ishim goes after humani– erm, Dean (hint: Sam wasn’t supposed to be there because Cas loves Sam, but he’s not in love with Sam). 

Now, on to question #2. Too much exposition is deadly to a story. A great way to show who a character is or whatthey’ve become is… to contrast them with who they’re not (same goes for relationships).

Ishim is linked to Castiel, they used to fighttogether. Right before the final showdown, we also learn that Ishim had fallen inlove with a human. But his love was unrequited, until it became twisted andobsessive. In a horrible display of power and to cut his own “humanweakness”, Ishim murders Lily’sdaughter and lets Lily live. Big mistake. Lily wants revenge, and startskilling the angels who (unknowingly) helped Ishim. He didn’t consider she wouldbecome that powerful and dedicated, so he let her live, and now she’s out forrevenge. So, when it comes to Castiel’s human weakness (*coff* Dean *coff*) hedecides to immediately kill Dean. Even worse, Dean feels the same wayabout Cas, and Ishim knows. 

(Read as: Suspicions confirmed)

Dean must be punished, because he (unlike Lily)loves Cas back, and that’s unacceptable. If anything, this episode shows us that Dean and Cas’ relationship couldn’t be more distant than Lily and Ishim’s. 

Now, nobody asked me this, but while I was going through Cas’ emotional arc in s6, I realized that there were some similarities between Ishim and Cas’ worst chapter of his time with the Winchesters. I’m talking about Godstiel. Quick digression to have some context, in s6 if Castiel’s goal was to stop Raphael, his need was Dean’s support and affection. (I’m sorry, I’m about to quote myself now)

Castiel’sneed is expressed by Castiel himself after the whole 6x20 debacle. When Sam,Dean and Bobby find out what’s going on, that’s a turning point that leaves Caswondering if he’s doing the right thing. His goal is deeply related to hisneed, so it’s hard to let it go. Because if Castiel doesn’t stop Raphael, Deanand Sam are going to die.

In 6x20,we have this exchange:

DEAN: No,actually, it’s not, and you know that. Why else would you keep this whole thinga secret, huh, unless you knew that it was wrong? When crap like this comesaround, we deal with it… Like we always have. What we don’t do is we don’t goout and make another deal with the Devil!

CASTIEL:It sounds so simple when you say it like that. Where were you when I needed to hear it?

DEAN: Iwas there. Where were you?

6x21 is all about Cas needing Dean’s support and expressing his need. 

CASTIEL: I came to tell you that I will find Lisa and Ben, and I will bring them back. Stand behind me, the one time I ask.

Ok, so, Cas needs Dean (and Dean needs Cas, but Cas is gonna wait 2 seasons before getting to hear it under tragic circumstances).

Then Cas swallows all those souls and monsters, and turns into the super powerful and arrogant version of himself (hubris used to be one of his biggest flaws). His goal changes, but his inner need is always there.

(6x22) CASTIEL: Theangel blade won’t work, because I’m not an angel anymore. I’m your new god. Youwill bow down and profess your love untome, your Lord, or I shall destroy you.

(7x01) CASTIEL: Stop.What’s the point if you don’t mean it? You fear me. Not love, not respect, just fear.

Going back to Ishim, what he does kind of echoes Godstiel’s words.

CASTIEL: Youwill bow down and profess your love untome, your Lord, or I shall destroy you.

Love me or I’ll destroy you. (I know this can be hard to metabolize, but consider that Cas had also swallowed Leviathans, who were probably starting to control him). Way before that, Castiel had broken Sam’s wall tostop Dean from trying to stop him. He had promised to save Sam, but after he becomesGodstiel, his dark side and whatever he’s swallowed take the upper hand. He lets Dean live out of mercy (or nostalgia, as he says in 7x01…),threatening to throw him into the pit again. He doesn’t fix Sam’s wall, and weall know that Lucifer hallucinations will almost kill Sam in s7. (I’ve read meta that explain how Dean’s relationship with his brother is often compared to a relationship with a son; Dean is a parent figure. Who does Ishim hurts to destroy Lily?) After that,Dean tries to get Death to kill Castiel. (Also, to reinforce this Ishim/Castielparallel, consider that Ishim was the first angel Lily had ever seen, just likeCastiel is the first angel Dean ever sees).

One of the biggest differences between Cas and Ishim, tho, is that (motivation) Castiel ultimately did what he did to protect Dean (and Sam) and to avoid the Apocalypse (and due tothe lack of communication, it was a tragedy… from the human perspective. akaour perspective) plus Godstiel’s most awful actions were probably influenced by the Leviathans, while Ishim’s actions were meant to subjugate Lily to hiswill (and he had no supernatural excuse for his actions).

Whilestory and needs are similar (and there’s a hint of possessiveness in s6Castiel’s behavior), Castiel always had good intentions, and went on to redeemhimself and gain Dean’s trust and affection back. Ishim’s intentions, instead,were completely egoistical, and he never changed. (Ishim’s character has a need to be in charge and subjugate other people.The creepy way he fixes his clothes after beating Castiel is a display ofpower, the camera work highlights that. He’s also extremely possessive.)

Ishimmirrors Castiel, but he’s also what Castiel isn’t at the moment (and has never truly been). Which better way to show how far he’s come without having to say itexplicitly? Also, which better way to show the extent of Dean and Cas’relationship? Those two would die for each other, while Ishim would rather destroy Lily than accept her refusal. Dean and Cas are family.Plus, since the episode’s context is angels falling in love with humans (and notin a platonic way), it all gets romantic overtones. For once, context gives usa not-so-platonic interpretation. We’re also asked to reconsider Dean andCastiel’s relationship in s6. Now, Ishim’s “love” was rotten, but Castiel’s? Andwas is platonic love or romantic love? Who the hell knows about then, it is even more ambiguous now for sure.

(Well, Dabb kind of gave us an interpretation in 9x20, when he decided to write this). 

(I’ve read some people see the Cas-centric episodes we’re getting as past, present, future… what if it’s also about his relationship with “humanity”?) 

tagging @tinkdw @elizabethrobertajones @mittensmorgul @bluestar86 bc maybe you can answer these questions ;) 

[dfroza]

Today’s reading in the ancient book of Proverbs and Psalms

for friday, june 12 of 2020 with Proverbs 12 and Psalm 12 accompanied by Psalm 86 for the 86th day of Spring and Psalm 14 for day 164 of the year

[Proverbs 12]

To learn the truth you must long to be teachable,

or you can despise correction and remain ignorant.

If your heart is right, favor flows from the Lord,

but a devious heart invites his condemnation.

You can’t expect success by doing what’s wrong.

But the lives of his lovers are deeply rooted and firmly planted.

The integrity and strength of a virtuous wife

transforms her husband into an honored king.

But the wife who disgraces her husband

weakens the strength of his identity.

The lovers of God are filled with good ideas

that are noble and pure,

but the schemes of the sinner

are crammed with nothing but lies.

The wicked use their words to ambush and accuse,

but the lovers of God speak to defend and protect.

The wicked are taken out, gone for good,

but the godly families shall live on.

Everyone admires a man of principles,

but the one with a corrupt heart is despised.

Just be who you are and work hard for a living,

for that’s better than pretending to be important

and starving to death.

A good man takes care of the needs of his pets,

while even the kindest acts of a wicked man are still cruel.

Work hard at your job and you’ll have what you need.

Following a get-rich-quick scheme is nothing but a fantasy.

The cravings of the wicked are only for what is evil,

but righteousness is the core motivation for the lovers of God,

and it keeps them content and flourishing.

[Wisdom Means Being Teachable]

The wicked will get trapped by their words

of gossip, slander, and lies.

But for the righteous, honesty is its own defense.

For there is great satisfaction in speaking the truth,

and hard work brings blessings back to you.

A fool is in love with his own opinion,

but wisdom means being teachable.

[Learning to Speak Wisely]

If you shrug off an insult and refuse to take offense,

you demonstrate discretion indeed.

But the fool has a short fuse

and will immediately let you know when he’s offended.

Truthfulness marks the righteous,

but the habitual liar can never be trusted.

Reckless words are like the thrusts of a sword,

cutting remarks meant to stab and to hurt.

But the words of the wise soothe and heal.

Truthful words will stand the test of time,

but one day every lie will be seen for what it is.

Deception fills the hearts of those who plot harm,

but those who plan for peace are filled with joy.

Calamity is not allowed to overwhelm the righteous,

but there’s nothing but trouble waiting for the wicked.

Live in the truth and keep your promises,

and the Lord will keep delighting in you,

but he detests a liar.

Those who possess wisdom don’t feel the need

to impress others with what they know,

but foolish ones make sure their ignorance is on display.

If you want to reign in life,

don’t sit on your hands.

Instead work hard at doing what’s right,

for the slacker will end up working to make someone else succeed.

Anxious fear brings depression,

but a life-giving word of encouragement

can do wonders to restore joy to the heart.

Lovers of God give good advice to their friends,

but the counsel of the wicked will lead them astray.

A passive person won’t even complete a project,

but a passionate person makes good use

of his time, wealth, and energy.

Abundant life is discovered by walking in righteousness,

but holding on to your anger leads to death.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 12 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 12]

A David Psalm

Quick, God, I need your helping hand!

The last decent person just went down,

All the friends I depended on gone.

Everyone talks in lie language;

Lies slide off their oily lips.

They doubletalk with forked tongues.

Slice their lips off their faces!

Pull the braggart tongues from their mouths!

I’m tired of hearing, “We can talk anyone into anything!

Our lips manage the world.”

Into the hovels of the poor,

Into the dark streets where the homeless groan, God speaks:

“I’ve had enough; I’m on my way

To heal the ache in the heart of the wretched.”

God’s words are pure words,

Pure silver words refined seven times

In the fires of his word-kiln,

Pure on earth as well as in heaven.

God, keep us safe from their lies,

From the wicked who stalk us with lies,

From the wicked who collect honors

For their wonderful lies.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 12 (The Message)

[Psalm 86]

A David Psalm

Bend an ear, God; answer me.

I’m one miserable wretch!

Keep me safe—haven’t I lived a good life?

Help your servant—I’m depending on you!

You’re my God; have mercy on me.

I count on you from morning to night.

Give your servant a happy life;

I put myself in your hands!

You’re well-known as good and forgiving,

bighearted to all who ask for help.

Pay attention, God, to my prayer;

bend down and listen to my cry for help.

Every time I’m in trouble I call on you,

confident that you’ll answer.

There’s no one quite like you among the gods, O Lord,

and nothing to compare with your works.

All the nations you made are on their way,

ready to give honor to you, O Lord,

Ready to put your beauty on display,

parading your greatness,

And the great things you do—

God, you’re the one, there’s no one but you!

Train me, God, to walk straight;

then I’ll follow your true path.

Put me together, one heart and mind;

then, undivided, I’ll worship in joyful fear.

From the bottom of my heart I thank you, dear Lord;

I’ve never kept secret what you’re up to.

You’ve always been great toward me—what love!

You snatched me from the brink of disaster!

God, these bullies have reared their heads!

A gang of thugs is after me—

and they don’t care a thing about you.

But you, O God, are both tender and kind,

not easily angered, immense in love,

and you never, never quit.

So look me in the eye and show kindness,

give your servant the strength to go on,

save your dear, dear child!

Make a show of how much you love me

so the bullies who hate me will stand there slack-jawed,

As you, God, gently and powerfully

put me back on my feet.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 86 (The Message)

[Psalm 14]

For the worship leader. A song of David.

A wicked and foolish man truly believes there is no God.

They are vile, their sinfulness nauseating to their Creator;

their actions are soiled and repulsive; every deed is depraved;

not one of them does good.

The Eternal leans over from heaven to survey the sons of Adam.

No one is missed, and no one can hide.

He searches to see who understands true wisdom,

who desires to know the True God.

They all turn their backs, walking their own roads;

they are rancid, leaving a trail of rotten footsteps behind them;

not one of them does good,

not even one.

Do the wicked have no clue about what really matters?

They devour my brothers and sisters the way a man eats his dinner.

They ignore the Eternal and don’t call on Him, rejecting His reality and truth.

They shall secretly tremble behind closed doors, hearts beating hard within their chests,

knowing that God always avenges the upright.

You laugh at the counsel of the poor, the needy, the troubled who put their trust in God.

You try to take away their only hope,

but the Eternal is a strong shelter in the heaviest storm.

May a new day, a day of deliverance come for Israel, starting with Zion.

When the Eternal breaks the chains of His oppressed people,

the family of Jacob will rejoice, and Israel will be delighted.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 14 (The Voice)