#we see him go through more real brutal direct pain and trauma on screen than either of them

[etoilesombre]

[iron--spider]

I woke up at 3am yesterday to watch The Devil All the Time and I’ve been thinking about it since. I’m gonna put my thoughts and feelings and a review of sorts behind the cut, because I am gonna talk about it freely, so there will be spoilers! So don’t click if you don’t wanna see. I’ll also be discussing the content of the film and I know that might bother people, so that stuff is in here, too! And it’ll be really long because you know I can’t shut up.

So, I loved it. I loved it loved it loved it. I read the book a long time ago when I first found out Tom was gonna be in it, and the only problem I had with the book was that the POVs would change in the middle of a paragraph lmao, but other than that I thought it was pretty perfect. I knew the movie was gonna be pretty brutal, because the book is brutal, so I was prepared.

-BUT I think the critics HIGHLY HIGHLY exaggerated how bad the content was. Like, seriously, they acted as if this was gonna be a Saw movie. I was preparing for blatant, horrific gore, but it didn’t live up to their dramatics at all. There’s blood and nasty situations, but every single episode of Game of Thrones is worse than this movie, as are most episodes of any crime drama on a paid network. I actually thought they were super, super tactful of all their horrific shit. The dog death was off screen and the shot of the body (described by the critics as literally traumatic) was so quick (enough to shut your eyes) and in the dark. I also argue that particular moment is extremely important for Arvin’s journey, because it’s the moment he truly turns on his father and turns on religion entirely, and he carries it with him his whole life (it’s what he flashes back to when he says “I know what my daddy did” because it’s the marker of all Willard’s mistakes) and it winds up being one of the last things he does before he leaves everything behind. Burying Jack’s bones. So, like, I despise dog death or any animal death in my entertainment, but it’s important here and handled well. And all the worst death scenes are either extremely fast (Helen’s and Gary Matthew’s) or shown in negative (all the photos). I think Bodecker’s headshot with Bobo is probably the worst and is also pretty quick. I don’t know if this means I’m a jaded bitch, but God the way they were all whining and crying, I thought it’d be a million times worse. It could have been, with the book’s descriptions, so it was actually pretty tame. Lenora’s death affected me the most and they cut away from that, too. I guess it’ll still bother some people, but there are many, many mainstream things that are far more violent and gory than this was.

-I thought it was a beautiful movie. I never mind films that are slightly slower but I love ones that use their time to lay things out and really show us what’s going on, build the ambiance and the relationships. I loved the narration (which I was worried about), and it really made me feel like we were visiting a moment in time that was important. Like something that was written and should be learned about. Rumors in a town you’re passing through. The ghosts of past trauma and transgressions looming over everyone that’s left.

-I liked the changes they made with Roy and Theodore because I thought that storyline kinda meandered in the book and I’m glad that Roy was actually gone the whole time and not just neglecting to come back to Lenora.

-The only real complaints I can make, I’ll get out of the way here: I wanted a little bit more time with Carl and Sandy. Carl was really creepy, but he could have been much creepier. In the book he was the one looking at the pictures constantly, Not Sandy, and that really showed that he was the one with the sickness, the one pushing them forward and orchestrating it all. I thought they did well with showing how Sandy deteriorated in her efforts with him through the years, but I would have liked to see a bit more of their personal lives together and her fear of him and her genuine feelings about what they’re doing, because the book goes into that a lot more. I also wasn’t a fan of Lee finding the picture early and knowing some about what they were doing, because I liked how it was a surprise to him in the book and yet he still did all he could to cover it up. And lastly, in the book there’s a scene with Arvin after he kills Sandy and Carl where he’s in a motel and he takes like 18 showers because he can’t get the grime of what he’s done off of him, and he looks at the picture and has a nightmare about killing Sandy, and I really would have loved if they’d kept it in. It would have been another ‘acting’ moment for Tom, and it would have been nice for us to see his direct trauma and reaction to everything that’s piling on top of him.

-BUT that’s it. I loved pretty much every single other thing and decision that they made. The cinematography was TOP NOTCH. You could tell they filmed on 35mm film, you could see the grain, and it really, really added to it. Antonio Campos is a very skilled director and I trusted him at the helm of this story. Everything looked so authentic, all the sets and the costumes. The soundtrack and score were AMAZING and enhanced the film. Technically it was just perfect in every regard to me.

-Acting! Acting! God this was like...a massive testament to the casting department and the talent of these people. Everyone was on their A game. Bill Skarsgård has been on my radar since Castle Rock (which I recommend to everybody, both seasons) and he was so natural and great in this role. Haley Bennet was absolutely adorable as Charlotte, I loved her cute face and her sweet relationship with little Arvin. Riley Keough was so great as Sandy with the limited amount of time she had, and Jason Clarke is one of my favorites but he was unrecognizable in this as creepy ass Carl. Harry Melling was a far cry from Dudley Dursley and he did a great job with his screen time, too. Same with Mia Wasikowska, who didn’t have much to do (same as poor Helen in the book) but she was able to garner our sympathy anyway. Seb Stan was slimy and gross but he pulled it off so well. Eliza Scanlen has been one of my favorites since Sharp Objects (another one that’s brutal as hell but I recommend it, she’s so scary) and she was so, so great here. Robert Pattinson was ALRIGHT, everybody talks him up over this but he felt a little hammy to me and a little too over the top, but there’s no denying his talent.

-Now, the reason we’re all here. Tom. My God. As soon as it was over I just didn’t know what the hell to do, I didn’t even know how to....go on, lmfao. We all know he’s talented, that’s why we’re here, that’s why we love him, but his performance in this is just BEYOND all that. Beyond comprehension. The man is only 24 years old and he’s out here outacting people who have been in the industry for longer than he’s been alive. He is SHOCKINGLY good. I knew he’d be perfect for Arvin as soon as I read the book, but he just completely embodied this role in a way that I couldn’t have imagined. He doesn’t show up in the movie until about 45 minutes in (which doesn’t hurt it because of the strength of the leadup, Bill’s performance and the performance of little Arvin’s actor) but God, as soon as he’s there the whole thing comes to life in a way that it hadn’t before. Tom is literally just a shining light, and he draws your eye in every single scene he’s in, and when he’s not there you’re wondering when he’s gonna come back. Arvin, to me, is a very complex character—he has been inherently changed by how his father twisted religion in his childhood, how deeply he betrayed him by his behavior, but he still has a kind heart and a protective streak and the need to be strong despite the pain nearly breaking him apart from moment to moment. Tom is just outrageously good at portraying all Arvin’s little nuances, how he clenches his jaw, how his voice breaks when he’s afraid or trying to convince someone of something or get his point across, how his hands tremble after he’s done something he wishes he didn’t have to do, how his whole body wilts when he realizes he’s emulating his father. And his eyes. Tom can do so, so much with his eyes that it’s unbelievable. He tells you so much with just a simple look, a glance, a wince, a long blink. I’m not exaggerating when I say he’s just an absolute revelation in this, he cements his place in Hollywood with a firm hand and a tender look, and I will not be forgetting what he did here anytime soon. There’s a reason that everyone called him out for being so stunning in this. He is magnificent. He has a gift.

-I wanna say, in particular, how much I love Arvin’s relationship with Lenora. Their lives were both marked by such tragedy and pain and Arvin just took up the torch of protecting her from the moment he said hello as a child. He wants so badly to be tough, and he IS, but there’s just miles and miles of love in this boy’s heart, and it manifests itself for his family—for his uncle, for his grandma, but for Lenora in particular. I loved how he just showed up when she was being harassed and just ran in there without thinking, and it’s purely devastating that he was out taking care of her bullies while a worse predator was cornering her. The scene where she was sick wasn’t in the book but it was a beautiful addition. Tom sometimes wears this very open, unguarded, honest expression, and this is the only scene in which he shows it, and it really expresses the love between them and how much she means to him. Arvin didn’t find Lenora’s body in the book, but it was the right change for them to make. Tom was devastating here, and that pain and that moment truly fuel every second of his journey through the rest of the film. “My Lenora”. The saddest siblings. Both Eliza and Tom did so beautifully with this relationship and I hope they work together again.

-Favorite acting moments for Tom: when he’s in the car in the rain after beating up the bullies, when he’s in the church crowd and realizes Preston is insulting his Grandma (the way his face changes oh my GOD), when he finds Lenora, when the cop comes to tell him Lenora was pregnant (this is just....so damn good), when he was telling his uncle to look after his Grandma, THE ENTIRE CHURCH CONFRONTATION (the way he trembles when he’s trying to get his attention, how he speaks the whole time, how he slowly gathers his strength), when he thinks Sandy has shot him, the moment where he’s over Lee’s body and just....pleading with his eyes for him to listen and realize what he’s done. And the last scene, in the car, all the emphasis on his face....once again, he can do so, so much with a look, with his eyes. Someone called out the beautiful last shot in the film, and of course, it’s Arvin’s sleeping face. And it was so beautiful (and devastating, to think of him enlisting. Tom draws so much sympathy that you just want Arvin to have a normal life so badly. He deserves it, he does, but will he get it?)

-Last thing I’ll say, I really loved how, despite turning his back on religion, that God seems to be protecting Arvin the whole time. He’s terribly afraid confronting the preacher and that could have easily gone badly, especially when he tosses the book, but Arvin was somehow able to get a shot off and get the upper hand. And with Carl and Sandy, he senses something is off immediately once they pull off the road, and he would have absolutely been killed had Carl not switched out Sandy’s bullets for blanks. And in the confrontation with Lee, he once again shoots at the same time as him, shoots without looking, and manages to come out unscathed and on top. A few spoiler reviews pointed out that the last person that picks Arvin up is supposed to be a Jesus-like figure, almost like he’s finally been saved. It hurts that everyone around him that he loved is almost forsaken by God, but he himself is protected. It’s such a complicated commentary on religion throughout the entire piece, but it’s so interesting and engrossing.

So I’d recommend this movie to anyone that loves movies, loves Tom, can deal with a gritty story that takes its time laying out all the chess pieces. It is definitely heavy subject matter but it doesn’t go overboard with the horror as it easily could have. Yes, there are triggers to look for, but the critics hugely over exaggerated how awful it was. I can probably go get time stamps for certain things if people wanna ask me after reading this, but if you can get through a Tarantino film or any HBO drama, you can do this. And Tom’s performance is one for the ages and not one that deserves to be passed over or downplayed. It is beautiful and heart-wrenching—a magnificent turn that displays his monumental ability to reach out and guide you into any world he decides to make his own.

I loved The Devil All the Time.

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary -Chapter 25

Warnings: none really

Tagging:  @alievans007,  @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @thorsbathroomchicken

It's seven thirty in the evening when they park three blocks away from the Slainte pub; sidewalks crawling with pedestrians, streets packed with cars, restaurant patios standing room only and offering up not only booze and traditional Irish and American dishes, but live music as well.  At first neither of them move or speak. The only sounds the clicking of the cooling engine and the muffled sounds of conversations and laughter filtering in from the outside world. Tyler grips the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn white; his eyes dark and stormy, brow furrowed, lips set in a thin, stern line. Everything is telling him that this is a bad idea; that aching pit in his stomach, the tightness in his throat,  the anxiety that sits heavily on his chest.  He's tempted to just say 'fuck it' and turn the car back on and return to the hotel. Or to actually accompany her to her destination; sitting inside as opposed to being separated by hundreds of feet and walls of brick and glass.  

“You have to trust me. Tyler.”  

Her voice plays over and over in his head.  It isn't that he doesn't trust her. He trusts her with his life. With his children's lives. It's that the threat of losing her is becoming all too terrifyingly real. The thought that anything could happen while she was in there alone. Someone in that bar could have seen her at the hotel or with him out on the street or at the airport and 'make her' as soon as she stepped through the door.  If they know who she is...who she is tied to...it's game over. There is no coming back from what will happen to her. They will beat her. Rape her. Torture her. For days on end until they finally got their fill. And then they'd kill her. It has happened before; women tied to mercenaries captured and unbelievably savagery and brutality unleashed on them.   Even if they did manage to survive, the effects and the trauma were long lasting. Life altering.  And it's fate that is just too painful to consider.

He thinks of his kids. At the thought of actually having to do it alone. Raise them as a single father. And it makes him nauseous. His head pounds; sweat gathers at his temples and upon his brow. And he reaches into the side pocket of his cargo pants and takes out a bottle of anti anxiety meds; twisting open the cap and dumping four into his mouth.

Esme notices but says nothing. Simply resting her hand on his thigh and and giving it a tight squeeze. She never judges him; she knows his struggles with mental illness. The effects of his PTSD and depression. The often crippling anxiety. All seemingly kept at bay until McCann had stepped into their lives and torn it all to shit.

She moves beside him now; grabbing the laptop bag that rests between her feet, pulling those fake eyeglasses from a side pocket and slipping them onto her face.  “Well?” she inquires, and turns to face him. “What do you think?”

He can't help but smile. She looks years younger. With that fresh face devoid of any make up and shimmering red hair and those freckles across the bridge of her nose.    Looking the part of the working girl in a simple pair of black dress slacks and a cream short sleeved blouse that plunges just far enough to both capture attention and send any mortal man's curiosity into overdrive.

“I think you should get glasses for real,” he replies, and leans across the front seat to kiss her. He can taste her tinted lip gloss; a mix of coconut and strawberry. And he wishes he could keep kissing her forever.  “Are you sure about this?” he asks. “I need you to be sure about this.

“I'm good,” she assures her. “Are you sure about this?”

“No,” he admits. “I'm not.”

“I'll be okay,” she promises, laying a hand on the side of his face and pecking his lips. “I've got this. I know what I'm doing. Just hold up your end of the bargain, okay? You only come in if you hear something going wrong.”

“It'll be too late if I wait that long.”

“Give me a chance,” she implores. “If I'm not out in twenty minutes, then come in and get me. Don't talk to anyone, don't make every contact. Just walk in and grab me and we leave. But I need at least twenty to get anything out of these people. Even if it's just names of other people to talk to.”

“There's a restaurant across the street. I'll be waiting there. On the patio. When I see you come out, I'll wait until you've turned the corner and then I'll catch up. Okay?”

She nods.

“I don't like this. Not one fucking bit.”

“It's going to be okay, Tyler. You just have to trust me.”

He nods, then presses a kiss to her forehead. “Just be careful.”

“I will,” she vows, a gentle smile curving her lips, so much love and adoration in her eyes and written all over her face as she reaches up to push his hair away from his eyes.  She gives him on last peck on the lips and then opens the car door, stepping out on the street and slinging the laptop bag over her shoulder.  Shooting him a smile and a small wave of the fingertips before crossing the busy street.

He watches through the rear view mirror as she goes. Then waits until she disappears around the next corner before climbing out himself.

****

He arrives first; his gait longer and quicker. And he takes a seat at one of the remaining tables on the restaurant patio. A table for four; sitting in the very middle, facing the other side of the street and the busy pub that is their target. Taking in the surroundings; the bouncer at the door, several couples sitting outside under umbrellas emblazoned with the Guinness logo, an acoustic guitar player completing the equipment set up before his gig.  Through the pub's front window he can see the wet bar that stretches all the way from front to back; a handful of customers on the stools, a waitress moving around with notepad and pen in hand, a lone bartender tending to thirsty patrons.

He orders a beer and pretends to be interested in seeing a a menu. Even the littlest things can spark suspicion,and it's better to be safe than sorry. And he's just slipped his sunglasses onto his face when Esme finally rounds the corner,  and he sees the nervous way she tucks her hair behind her ears and constantly looks over her shoulder. It's been a long time since she's done something like this. Walked into the unknown and lied and conned to get her way. But it's like riding a bike; once you hit the right stride and your confidence comes back

She pauses before approaching the door, casting a glance in his direction. A tiny smile tugging at her lips.

He raises his hand in a small wave, then gives her a reassuring smile of his own, followed by a stiff nod.  Sipping his beer, watching over the rim of the glass as she briefly engages with the bouncer, flashing the hulking man a dazzling smile before reaching into the pocket on her pants and  pulling out one of the fictitious business cards that Nik had made up.  Chatting amicably, gesturing animatedly with her hands, cocking her head to the side and giving that flirtatious little grin that he knows so well.  He hates it. Seeing her that way with other men, Whether it's for a job or not.  And he'd never considered himself a jealous or possessive man. Until her. And he actually frowns when she lays a hand on the other man's bicep. Legitimately angry at how the younger man is so obviously checking her out; the way he gallantly opens the door for her and then his eyes focus on her ass as she steps inside.

Gulping down a mouthful of beer, he takes his SAT from the side pocket of his pants and sends Nik a quick and simple text.

SHE'S IN.

*****

The wooden floors are scuffed and bowed; peanut shells and wood shavings cracking under the soles of her heels. It fits every stereotype that her mind has ever held of an Irish pub;  Guinness on tap, the smell of fish and chips hanging heavily in the air, polished wood tables and booths, chairs and stools and benches clad in rich green vinyl. The Tiffany glass swag lamps that hang over diners as they eat,  the dart pools and pool tables taken up by the young and old alike.

She notices the attention she attracts; a fairly young woman clad in modest business attire, the black patent pumps and the vibrant hair. She feels the eyes on her with each patron she passes; the curious, the intrigued, the suspicious. A fresh face in a place like this is bound to turn some heads, and puts an extra sway in her hips as she walks, licking her lips and making them glisten,  shy smiles for the men her age and younger, broader and more friendly ones for the elderly gents.  It's been a hell of a long time she's had to play that game; lure men in, giving them a false sense of confidence, encouraging them to approach yet not wanting to come across as too eager.  She's missed it. The sense of satisfaction that you get when you know you've got someone on the hook and you just keep reeling them in until they're eating out of the palm of your hand.

“May I?” she address an older man as he drinks at the bar, casting a glance down at the overcoat and the copy of that day's paper that sits on the stool beside him.

“Of course, love. My apologies,” he hurriedly removes the items, then gallantly offers a hand to help her up onto the stool.

“A gentleman,” she muses, and curls her fingers around him, accepting the gesture with a smile.

“Can I buy you a drink, love?” he sounds a little too eager. But he's encouraged by the fact that a woman more than half his age has chosen the seat beside him...out of all the empty stools remaining at the bar...to perch herself upon.

“I'd love to accept, but I'm actually on the job.”

“Something non alcoholic, then. Just to quench your thirst.”

She relents, laying a hand on his shoulder and squeezing lightly.  “That would be lovely, thank you.”

“Billy!” he calls down to the bar keep, a younger man that leans against the end of the bar, watching soccer on the flat screen mounted on the nearby wall.

Esme estimates his age; twenty five, thirty at the most. Tall and and thin but blessed with broad shoulders and a wide back. Rowing perhaps. Maybe even swimming. A brush cut that draws attention to the thick silver hoops in each ear lobe and the tribal tattoos that decorate each side of his thick, strong neck.  Faded and well fitting blue jeans. Doc Marten boots. A black and red button down plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows and a white tee underneath. Casual, yet well put together.  And he regards her suspiciously as he wanders towards them, both hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans.

“Something for my new friend here,” the older gentleman says. “And another for me. “

“Just a diet coke,” she orders with a smile. Not too broad. Not too dazzling. Just right to break the ice. It's a process; some people are more easily charmed than others. She can tell he's going to be more of a challenge. If she seemed too friendly and chatty, it would turn him off from continuing a conversation. Too standoffish and he won't even engage.  “Busy in here tonight. Is it always like this?”

“One of our most busy Thursdays,” the bartender confirms, as he moves way to gather their drinks.

“I'm sorry love,” the man beside her speaks up. “But I didn't catch your name,”

“That's because I didn't give it to you. Patience is a virtue, after all.” She pulls out her cell phone...her personal line...and uses the front facing camera as a ruse to fix her make up and touch up her hair, sneaking a picture of the young bar keep as he pours a stein of Guinness.  She slips her phone back into the laptop bag, then turns to the older man with her hand out. “I'm Meghan. Meghan Young.”

“George,” he says in return, politely shaking her hand and then going the extra step of pressing his lips against the top of it.  “You're not from around these parts, are you? An outsider. What brings a pretty young lass like yourself to these neck of the woods?”

“Business,” she offers a smile of gratitude as the bar keep places her drink in front of her, then takes the plastic straw behind her thumb and forefinger and places just the tip between her lips, eyes never leaving Billy's as she takes a long pull.  “I'm here for work,” she continues, and removes one of the business cards from the side pouch on the laptop bag, placing it on the top of the bar and then sliding it across with the tip of her finger.

“What kind of business?” George inquires, sitting sideways on his stool now, leaning towards her ever so slightly.

Billy picks up the card, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he reads the information. “Journalist.”

“For the Chicago Tribune.”

“And they send you all the way here on business?”

“They send me everywhere. Nothing can stop a reporter from chasing a good story. And I've stumbled upon quite the winner, here. I was hoping maybe you gentleman could help me. Give me a little information. Or at least point me in the right direction.”

Billy slips the business card into the breast pocket of his shirt, then leans back against the bar, arms folded across his chest. “What kind of information?”

She leans forward, elbows on the bar, hands clasped around the glass of soda. “I received an anonymous tip. From someone in Chicago that has connections. To the IRA.”  Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the way George's eyebrows shoot up, mug of beer pressed to his lips. “Is it true. That this place is owned by a member.”

George is more forthcoming with the information,  eager to please and impress. “Indeed it is. Been in the same family for more than fifty years. All of them in the IRA. What makes you so interested?”

“I've heard there's some trouble brewing.” she keeps her voice low. “Between the IRA and one of their ex members. Who has ties to a New Zealand crime family.”

George nods enthusiastically, then looks at the young bar keep. “She's talking about McMann.”

“How do you know of him?” Billy asks her.

“I already said. An anonymous source with his ties to the IRA.”

“What's his name?”

“A journalist never, ever gives up her sources. I'm sure it's the same way with you. I'm sure you'd never out one of your informants would you.”

His smirk grows.

“Look,” she sips at her drink, then taps her fingernails against the glass. “Journalism is a dying art these days. Everything is on the web. There's no substance. No spice. There's no one out there delving into the hard topics and writing truly valuable human interest stories. I want to bring that back. I want to bring back the passion for the written word. A story like this could launch my career. I could really make a name for myself. And I'd really appreciate if you'd help me out.  If not now, then maybe we can arrange something? Talk in private?”

He nods down at her wedding band. “You're married?”

“Separated. He's out of the picture. Chose work over me. What's the saying? His loss is another man's game? I really, really, really want this,” she adds a slight plea to her voice. “Badly. And there's nothing I wouldn't do to get the information I need. Is it true? That the IRA kidnapped McMann's wife and son's?”

Billy shakes his head. “Rumour. We...they...had nothing to do with it. It's that crime family you mentioned. Trying to stir up trouble.”

“Do you think we could arrange something? Perhaps I could come back after hours? Or during the day when it isn't as busy?”

He nods, a slow grin spreading across his face. “We can definitely arrange something.”

“And I was thinking...” she runs the sides of her fingers along her straw, her eyes never leaving his. “...it would really help if I could get more than one perspective on things. Perhaps someone higher up the chain of command? A boss? Someone with a little more...pull?”

“I could arrange something.”

“You're a life saver, William,” she shoots him a wink, and she sees the slight blush that creeps into his cheeks at the use of his full name. “Here...give me your hand...” she motions for him to do as asked, and when he steps forward, palm down, she turns it out to face her. Then fetches a pen from her back and scrawls her SAT number into his skin. “This is a better, more private line to reach me on. Non work related. If you catch my drift.”

“Oh I catch your drift alright,”  he says, and then gives her hand a squeeze before she pulls it away.

She pulls her cell phone from her back, gasping dramatically when she checks the time. “I'm running late. I have another place to be. More people to talk to. It was a pleasure, William. I look forward to seeing you again.”

“Pleasure was all mine,” he declares.  “I'll be in touch.”

She flashes him a dazzling smile. “I hope so. George...” she lays a hand on the older man's back, rubbing softly as she slides off the stool.  “You're a gentleman. And incredibly charming. Thank you for the drink.”

“Hope to see you again,” he calls after her, as she slings the laptop bag over her shoulder and heads for the door,

******

Tyler glances down at his cell phone.

Five minutes to go.

He sips his beer, leans back in his chair, nervously rubs his palms against his thighs.  The world continues around him; despite the fact that fifteen minutes ago his entire life...his heart...disappeared through the front door of the pub across the street. He hasn't felt the effects of the booze and the anxiety meds; his nerves and senses still on high alert. Eyes always watching. Ears pricked for any hint of trouble across the street.  His stomach in knots, chest tight.  He can't sit still. He drums his fingers against the table top, nervously shakes his legs or taps his foot, runs his hands through his hair, chews absentmindedly on the corner of his thumb nail.  A frown crossing his face when someone deliberately plants their body in front of him. And he's about to look up and ask them what the fuck when a voice beats him do it.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

What in the actual fuck?  He thinks, and glances up.  Nostrils flaring. Brow furrowing. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Thought I'd pop by,” Mark says, hands shoving his hands in the pockets of his khakis. “Esme's inside, isn't she,” he nods in the direction of the pub across the street.

“What the hell do you want? Why are you here? How the hell did you find me?””

“I know how to tap cell phones. You used your private one about ten minutes ago. This is where I tracked you to.”

Oh for fucks sakes.

“What's she doing in there? Intel?”

“Would you shut the fuck up?” Tyler hisses. “What is wrong with you? Keep your fucking voice down.”

“How long she been in there?”

“I said shut the fuck up. Are you trying to get her caught? Now sit down and keep your mouth shut.”

“She's a feisty one, huh? I can imagine how hard she had to talk you into this.”

“I said sit the fuck down. Now.”

He finally relents, slipping into the chair across from Tyler.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Mark? What the hell is going on? How'd you know where I was?”

“Who do you think Nik came to for help? To arrange all the secret meeting stuff back at the hotel? The secure satellite feed? The new SAT phones. The fake Ids. You really think she pulled all that off on her own?”

“Why you? What the hell do you have to do with any of this?”

“Come on now, you honestly didn't know I was FBI.”

Tyler frowns. “You're a Fed? Are you serious right now?”

“I'm surprised Esme didn't tell you. She probably didn't tell you the rest, either. About asking me for help.”

His eyes narrow. “What?”

“She was worried about you. Said you'd got mixed up into some mess with the IRA. Asked me to tap your phones and trace your whereabouts. In case something happened to you.  I told her she probably didn't need to be so concerned. You're a big boy. You can take care of yourself. But you know how she gets. All worked up and anxious. A real mother hen.”

“Are you always this big of an asshole? Is it a gift or...?”

“I'm actually quite flattered. That she'd even think of me. Guess maybe she's still hanging onto some of the past. Just can't quite seem to let me go.”

“You're about five seconds away from getting my foot up your ass, mate. Now either shut up or fuck off. I don't have time for your shit.”

“Ever the busy man,” he smirks. “Always running off to solve everyone elses problems but never dealing with your own.”

“Mark, I swear to Christ, if you don't shut the fuck up...”

“Bitter pill to swallow, huh? Knowing she still thinks about me.”

“Listen you little shit...”  Tyler leans across the table. “...I don't know what you want or why you're here, but either keep your mouth shut or I shut it for you.  I don't have the time or the fucking patience for this.”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “I'm just here to help...mate.”

Tyler's blood boils.  But he refuses to take the bait. The games won't work on him, no matter how hard the other man tries.

“Kind if a shitty move on your part, don't you think?” Mark asks. “Getting her mixed up in all this? Considering how she thinks of you as her hero. Her knight in shining armour. The one that came along and helped her get over me. That one that was able to give her the life that she really wanted. A happy marriage, a bunch of kids, nice place to live. That's kind of a bitch thing to do, Rake. Give her all of that and play the role of her hero and then fuck it all up like this. You'd think you'd want to keep her away from all of this. You know, seeing as you are always going on and on about how much you love her and would never hurt her.  Not exactly walking the walk, huh?”

“I will fucking kill you, Mark. If you don't keep your goddamn mouth shut, I will bury you. Do you honestly believe the shit that is coming out of your mouth right now? Or do you just like to hear yourself talk? You know nothing about my marriage. About my wife. About our lives together. So just sit there and keep your mouth shut,” he glances down at his phone. It's well past the twenty minute mark. “Fuck,” he mutters, and stands up, taking money out of his wallet and tossing it down on the table.

“Sleeping on the job, huh? Not quite on the ball when it comes to keeping an eye on her, are you.”

“Just...stop...just shut the fuck up and...”  he notices the door to the pub open up and Esme finally step out, watching as she exchanges parting pleasantries with the bouncer before hurrying off down the sidewalk. “I gotta go.”

“Are you serious right now?” Mark asks incredulously. “You're going to leave her in there while you chase after another woman?”

“You idiot. That's Esme. She dyed her hair. You absolute fucking idiot. Stay here. Don't follow me.”

“Like hell I'll stay here,” Mark says, and stands up as well. “What are you going  to do, Rake? Stop me?”

“Don't fucking tempt me,”  Tyler retorts, eyes on Esme until she rounds the corner and disappear. “Let's go. If you're coming, let's go. Now.”

****

They reach the car first, Tyler using the keyless entry to unlock the vehicle, then tossing open the back passenger  door.

“Get in,” he orders.

“I don't get to call shotgun?”

“Just get in,” he snarls, and then slams the door shut when the other man finally complies.  Pacing by the side of the car until he finally hears the hurried click of heels against the payment. Relief washing through him when she finally comes around the corner, pausing momentarily to lean a hand against a building in order to remove her heels. Now in her bare feet, shoes in her hand.

  “That was twenty five minutes,” he informs her.

“It took a little longer than expected,” she admits, as he lays a hand on her hip and kisses her softly.  “They were chatty. Not particularly helpful, but chatty.  My feet were killing.  These things are bullshit. Remind me never to wear heels again.”

He takes the shoes from her, a hand on the back as he escorts her to her side of the car. Pausing before opening her door, instead tossing open the back one and tossing the heels into the back seat with enough force to catch Mark on the side of the head and leave some damage.

“I'm starving,” she announces, as her husband opens her door. “Let's go and get something to eat. We'll have to drive pretty far out of the way so no one recognizes you or sees us together. Do you think they sell tacos somewhere?”

“Just get in,” Tyler says, and gives her one last peck on the lips before she slips into the car. “Let's just the fuck out of here, yeah?”

She nods in agreement, and reaches for her seat belt as he closes her door.

“Hi Esme,” Mark greets her from the backseat, and she nearly jumps clear out of her skin.

“What the hell?!”she shrieks. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“He's here to help,”  Tyler says, as he slips behind the wheel and starts the ignition, tires squealing as he peels away from the curb. “You know. Like you asked him to.”

She glares at her ex husband.  “You dumb ass motherf-...”

“Like the man just said, you asked.”

“You weren't supposed to show up here!” she hisses. “You were supposed to send someone! This is not what we agreed to!”

“I had some time off coming. I figured why not to the deed myself? I could use a little excitement.”

“You're going to get a little excitement when I come back there and beat your ass!” she threatens.  “What is wrong with you? I told you not to tell Tyler. I told you...”

“Uhhh...excuse me...” her husband speaks up.  “...Tyler is right here. Tyler can fucking hear you.”

“It's not what you think,” she says.  “I did not ask Mark to come here. I asked him for help. But I never told him to come here.”

“Why didn't you just leave it alone? After I told you McMann?  I told you all of that in confidence.”

“In her defence,” Mark pipes up. “She was just worried about you.”

“You shut up. I''m not talking to you. I'm talking to my wife. You know, your ex wife.”

“Okay...guys...take it down a notch...” Esme insists. “....there's too much ego in this car right now.  Mark, shut up and mind your business, okay? This doesn't involve you.”

“Well it does considering you're the one who asked me for help.”

“Just...shut...up...” she spits out every word. “Or I'll have Tyler stop this car and get him to toss your ass out in the middle of the road.”

“I can stop right here,” Tyler suggests.  “Throw him right out into traffic.”

“You'd like that wouldn't you,” Mark snorts.

“You know what? I actually would. I would love to toss your arrogant ass right in the path of an eighteen wheeler.”

“Simmer down...please...” Esme begs. “Yes. I asked him for help. I told him about McMann. Because I don't trust him and I was worried about you.”

“It was between us. In confidence.”

“I was worried about you, Tyler. You were walking into this blind with nothing but McMann's word to go on.  Maybe I overreacted...”

“You think, Esme? You really think?”

“...but I wanted to help you and keep you safe and that was the only way I knew how.”

“You had my phone and my SAT traced? Are you serious?”

“I wanted someone to have your back. To keep an eye on you,” she reasons. “I didn't do it to betray your confidence. I did it because I was worried. That's all. I'm sorry.  I didn't meant to upset you, Tyler. I did it because I love you and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He sighs heavily, shaking his head.

“I'd be pissed too,” Mark says, and Tyler glares at him through the rear view mirror.  “Just saying.”

“You really need to just shut up and stay that way,” Esme tells him. “See that vein throbbing in the side of his neck? That's the vein that throbs when he's about to impale someone with a garden rake. So just...shhhh...”

There's finally blissful silence.  Tyler's head pounds ferociously, his stomach growls.  “How'd it go?” he asks.

“It was like taking candy from a baby.  They just bought it hook, line, and sinker.  The bartender is definitely IRA. No doubt about it. I gave him my card. He says he's going to call.  And pass my name and number around to other people that can give me info.  They honestly think I'm here to write an article about the what's going on between the IRA and the Buckman's. And McCann's wife and kids. It was so easy, Tyler.  You would have been so proud of me.”

“I am proud of you,” he says, and she smiles.

“You guys realize I'm still back here, right?” Mark speaks up. “And that we're now about half an hour from where I left my car?”

“For fucks sakes!” Tyler bellows, and makes an erratic U turn in the middle of oncoming traffic.  

“You might want to do up your seat belt,” Esme suggests to her ex. “Tyler doesn't know what stop signs and red lights mean.”

It takes half the time to get back into town. The blatant and dangerous traffic violations making for a quick, yet nerve wracking trip.  And Tyler pulls up in front of the restaurant he'd ran into Mark at.

“Get out!” he orders.  “Just get out! Now!”

Mark puts up little resistance. “Your shoes,” he says, to Esme, holding out the heels.

“You're a real fucking tool,” she declares, as he drops them into his lap.

“We'll be in touch,”  Mark says, more to Tyler than her. “I look forward to working with you, Rake.”

Tyler smirks. Then floors the gas.

[trashpandaorigins]

Infinity War Abuse and Trauma: A Call for Accountability

Infinity War. This movie is exhausting to watch. It is an ordeal to sit through and left my stomach turning for days after seeing it.I had trouble sleeping, in the pit of my guts twisted with tumultuous anxiety and I couldn’t exactly figure out why. People would ask me how the movie was and I’d answer shortly that “it was terrible.” I didn’t want to talk about it. But why? I’d been looking forward to this movie for years! Yet for the life of me I could not articulate what it was about this film that left me deeply uncomfortable. It has taken me over a year to fully reckon with why Infinity War made me feel so disturbed and frankly, gross. Finally after many discussions with friends and reading reviews and watching video essays (most notably Movie’s With Mikey’s Let’s Talk About Thanos video which I will link to at the bottom of this page).  But now can finally share with you what it was about IW that profoundly affected me. I am not the first person to criticize IW, I’m not the first person to write about the ways in which this movie is damaging, nor should I be. I just want to contribute my own insight and point of view to the conversation. As a fan, as a woman, as a person who has survived abuse and trauma. We will get to that. Hopefully I’ll still have followers when this is done. Deep breath friends, in...good. Out….okay, let’s go.

Call me a pansy, but I do not like watching characters whom I love and have grown attached to suffer insentient misery without reprieve or reward. It’s not fun, it’s not thrilling and it certainly isn’t entertaining. We go to these Marvel movies because they are fun and they give us hope. If we don’t have a sense of wonder and adventure then why are we even watching these movies? Captain America, Thor Ragnarok Winter Soldier, GOTG, these films were good because they gave us people to route for. Interesting fun stories, not to mention stakes that aligned with the narratives to boot.

Because these are our heroes however flawed they may be. Marvel literally built an empire off this nostalgia from comic books and good ole’ good guys vs. bad guys. I already touched on this concept in the very first (mostly emotion driven keyboard pounding blurb Infinity War Was Tragedy Porn). I won’t harp on the point but let’s just say that there is enough pain and grief in the world already. We know people who persevere still loose in the end. We know because we live it every day. So watching our favorite characters like Steve, Bucky, Natasha, Thor and others suffer relentlessly is not something people necessarily want to see. It isn’t compelling or interesting it’s just...a lot.

For me it really came down to two characters in particular. Gamora and Rocket. The mangy little raccoonoid has always been my favorite guardian and certainly my favorite Marvel character. This is in part, because of his relatability. (A talking enhanced raccoon relatable? Oh don’t worry I already wrote that little essay: Coping Healing and Physical Trauma or Why This Trash Panda is So Damn Relatable). Let’s cut right to the chase because we have a lot to get through here-bare with me I’m gonna get real for a second. I have poured a lot of my own pain, my own sorrow and my own trauma into this racoucious ringtail. Is this healthy? Probably not. Is it better than the numerous other ways I could cope? Undoubtedly.

I’m not alone in doing this either. Most fans relate to and project their own lived experiences on to fictional characters. In my case, Rocket’s journey throughout GOTG Vols 1 & 2 very much mirrors my own story. So when I sat in the theatre watching him loose Groot (again), I felt physically ill. To watch a character who has come so far, who has had to do some serious soul searching and endure incredible grief and pain, be kicked down back to where he was before GOTGVol1; alone  and scared and trying to exist in a world where his own existence is an anomaly? That hurt. It made me feel hopeless and helpless and that is not why I watch Marvel films. Rocket is a character who has suffered and lost but he has kept going. Relentlessly surviving and that is inspirational but the fact that the writers had him loose not only Groot, (again) but the only people who have ever loved him and stood by him despite of his flaws was really hard to watch. He cannot escape loneliness and isolation even after finding a family. He is back to square one. More like square -1 because at least when we first meet him he has a partner. Watching Rocket loose everything after working so hard to get something anything, it made me feel like the own struggles in my life and my own efforts to grow and heal...were useless and worthless. If watching Rocket loose Groot and subsequently the rest of the guardians made me feel like vomiting in the theatre then Gamora’s death was near unbearable to witness.

Gamora’s death was wrong in so...so many ways. I hope I can articulate some semblance of that here. When we are first introduced to her she has successfully escaped her abuser.  She is beginning to establish her own identity and find her own self worth apart from her past apart from being “the lackey of a genocidal maniac.” Throughout GOTGVol1&2 Gamora shows that she is a deeply compassionate person who empathizes with others so much that she would readily risk her own life to protect a planet she has no attachment to. Like Rocket she too finds a family with the Guardians. She found people who accept her for herself, apart from her attachment to Thanos. Gamora is healing from her abuse while coming to grips with the abhorrent actions she’s committed. She has come so incredibly far and then...then she is killed and not just killed, murdered, brutally by her abuser. Infinity War glorifies abuse and violence using it as a plot device. It is obviously not the first film to do this, far from it but the issue is that this act of brutality is intended to make us feel sympathetic, not for Gamora. For Thanos. That is beyond sickening and it is not lost on me that the two people Thanos tortures the most are women. While the mad titan himself is a charactercher of masculinity. A hyperbolic representation of a self-proclaimed genius authoritarian.  A man who is willing to do what it takes for the good of the universe, and isn’t it just so sad that no one understands him? He’s painted as a martyr. Infinity War plays with not only brutal tragedy but the violence and suffering of women; using it as leverage for shock value.

I have talked about this movie with many, many people and so far the only people who leap to Thano’s defense are men. I have yet to hear any woman argue on his behalf. “But he’s crazy!” They argue, leaping to his defense with disturbing readiness sometimes eagerness. “That just shows how evil he is!” If that is true then why did the soul stone reveal itself after Gamora’s death? If that was truly the intention then the stone would not have worked showing us that no Thanos did not actually love Gamora. But it did work and the very fact that it did proves the point. “She’ll come baaack,” they chide. That is not the point. The point is that for many of us who have survived abuse watching Thanos torture Nebula and murder Gamora shows us an abuser who wins.

I can’t help but wonder if this story would be different were Infinity War  had a more diverse creative team behind it. Another argument I often hear is “it’s for the plot! They needed to have a big dramatic sacrifice! It’s just a superhero movie!” This really irks me because there in exists an implicit ignorance and selfishness. An unwillingness to fully understand or at the very least acknowledge the larger contextual nexus of political, social, gender and sexual issues going in our world right now. Infinity War ignores the very world in which it is created and consumed and ignores the very fans it strives to appeal for. You cannot separate reality from fantasy, not so long people who live in reality reading, watching and consuming that fantasy.  The Marvel movies don’t have to be socio political commentaries but they do have a responsibility to be aware of different lived experiences of their fans. It’s not about whether or not Marvel has a psychotherapist or if there are trauma informed screen plays. It’s about the people sitting in the director's chair and in the writers room. People who have different lived experiences making the decisions about these movies. How many women oversaw the writing, direction and production of Infinity War? How many people of color and queer people?

My guess is not many. Infinity War was indifferent to the impact that it had upon its viewers and must be held accountable.  They must come to grips with the fact that the choices they made and the pain they chose to thrust upon beloved characters has had a coercive effect on many of their fans because it was directed primarily by men who hold enough privilege in our society that they don’t have to think about these things. This film is, as so many other forms of media still are-despite recent efforts to move forward-created by and for men. A specific type of white heterosexual man. A many who has never been abused.

For those of us who are not straight white men Infinity War is a kick in the guts. It shows us that our struggles are futile, our trauma a spectacle to be exploited and in the worst cases mocked. The misery and unyielding destitute hopelessness of our beloved characters tells us that there is no hope. With particular attention to Gamora and Nebula Infinity War teaches us that abuse is love and that people who abuse are the ones to be sympathized with and understood. Do Anthony and Richard Russo or Kevin Feige care about this? I highly doubt it. Otherwise they would not push for and celebrate the narratives of an psychopathic abuser. They would not herald Thanos as sympathetic and praise worthy. They are trying to be edgy and different when all it really is is myopic, egotistical and downright cruel and zealous. I don’t think that the Russo’s or Fiege or any man involved in the production of Infinity War is a bad person or that they intentionally did this. But they are insensitive ignorant and they must be held accountable by fans, by other creatives in the industry and they must do better with End Game.

This is especially frustrating coming off the heels of movies like Black Panther, Wonder Woman, Into The Spider Verse. Movies that were cognizant of the realities in which they were made and the experiences of their fans and actively used that to create powerful stories. Infinity War just feels dates and ignorant. A product of the gamergate culture we are still steeped in.

I am going to see End Game next Saturday and I will do my best to see it with an open mind. Ultimately I will judge the next Avengers movie by how, as another fan worded it, how they treat Nebula and Gamora; the who who are incidentally the only two people who truly deserve to kill Thanos in my opinion. If they are able to construct a well written narrative that gives them agency I will count End Game as a success. I will also judge it by how they wrap up the endings of our other favorite characters. Giving Steve and Bucky, Thor, Tony, Bruce, Natasha and the rest of them an ending that they deserve. A satisfying conclusion to their journeys and rewarding payoff for all that they have gone through and endured for over ten years and a satisfying conclusion for us too.

So where does this leave us? The subject of accountability. The creators behind Infinity War must be held accountable for their ignorance. I would encourage you as you are willing and able to write, post on social media and make known your honest feelings about this movie. As fans we hold tremendous power, by speaking up, signing petitions, etc we can continue to push for more diverse stories that are sensitive, adventurous and appealing. We can advocate for more women, people of color and LGBTQIA+ representation not just on the screen but behind it as well. In the production and the directors chair. The industry is changing...slowly and not completely but it is. Look again at the past few Marvel movies. We can make a difference and we can hold people accountable for their ignorance. We can stop watching movies or TV shows, (take the Walking Dead for example, I know many people who ceased watching that show after Glen’s grotesquely miserable death). We can make a difference in who gets to write/direct/produce movies. We’ve already come a long way, but we can go further. Whatever it takes!

[nitratestock]

One by one, like a painful slow drip from a finite source, we lose people to time, people who contributed positively to the world in ways political, artistic, scientific. One by one. Considering the sum total is simply too great, we need stagger. For those who share my year of birth by a margin of three years give or take on either side, we’ve been lucky. Lucky in the sense that the stagger has been long and wide. Over the last decade we’ve lost some important people, particularly important to our early life, the exit of our single digits and the early part of our teens. Early on I was crushed by the death of Sidney Lumet, in 2011, a giant of the film community. I wrote about his passing back then, at the point of worst emotional pain, as bad as one can feel without being a family member or close friend. Since then we’ve lost Cimino. We’ve lost Nichols. We’ve lost Varda. We’ve lost Akerman. We’ve lost Hooper and Romero. As we brine in our Gen X jar, we unfortunately transition from sniper fire to machine gun spray. Legato becomes staccato. People of my age group watch in horror as heroes depart. It’s no different of any other age group, perhaps only more enhanced by the increased prevalence of mass media over the course of the last century and into ours. Distance and folklore becomes nearness and screens. In either case we involve ourselves in the lives of others, in ways good and bad. At worst we connect through this urge to pillory those who are guilty of our very same sins. At best, we mourn the passing of a public figure we’ve come to acknowledge, without their knowledge, as a friend. Hopefully out of benevolent interest, that last part.

So I say with the melancholy of a film fanatic that came of age in the 80’s and the heft of a life, if averages count, mostly lived at this point, that the recent passing of one Alan Parker left me despondent. Perhaps not for the fate of the world, but definitely for the fate of film as a malleable form that might struggle with the twin purposes of art and commerce and succeed somehow. Film fanatics, or as I prefer to refer to myself and others, Cinegeeks, often find themselves drawn to figures within the film world considered 2nd or 3rd tier interviews, whose body of work might contain two or three masterpieces amongst a body of mediocrity, or who might have a mostly or even highly successful box office record but never get critical acclaim. Fanatics like to champion the underdog. It’s our nature. To a degree Alan Parker found himself in this category. Partially because his CV didn’t fit neatly into the Auteur Theory folder. Partially because he didn’t play the normal Hollywood game. It’s sometimes overlooked that the boldest outsiders during that New Hollywood era knew how to play the studio/PR angle and did so like sawing a harp from hell. I’m looking at YOU, Coppola and Scorsese.

Parker had artistic ambitions, some would even say pretentious ambitions, and yet I defy anyone to observe his body of work and not see a blue-collar hardscrabble mentality etching away at the base of all his films. He failed sometimes, but in all endeavors he struggled not just to ensure proper light diffusion, but to connect the audience to the scene that was unfolding and the characters within all of that art direction and brilliant cinematography. In his debut feature, the cult classic BUGSY MALONE, he invited audiences to indulge in the lark of basically watching an updated Little Rascals film as whipped-cream St. Valentine’s massacre. With an infectious soundtrack by Paul Williams. And it worked and still works. In MIDNIGHT EXPRESS, he sought nothing less than to put you through the Turkish prison system at its most barbaric. And damn, did he succeed. In FAME, he sought to enroll you in La Guardia High, the School for the Performing Arts, partially ushered in by one Mr. Lumet, and he brought you into the NYC streets to join the dance. In SHOOT THE MOON, he dragged you through the broken glass and nails that is a brutal divorce. Most critics still feel it’s the film that’ll never be topped on that topic. And yeah. It’s punishing to this day.

That’s just his first four films. He followed MOON in the same year with his cinematic distillation of PINK FLOYD’S THE WALL, as ambitious, reckless, insane, obtuse and inspiring as any art film dared to be. He waged one of the bravest, constant battles between the band, their label, his studio and the inevitable lash or backlash from the critics and the crowds as any director dared in that decade, which had now, even by 1992, belonged to Reagan and Thatcher’s crowd. It worked, it was a success on its own terms. It stood with QUADROPHENIA as one of the few successful adaps of a “RockOpera” to screen. And it would serve as an insanely influential piece of cinema/album mashup. I can’t think of another film that’s even attempted to match it to this day.

Parker’s true gift was that of exploration, and this was evinced by his sojourn from cinematic genre to cinematic genre. Like great directors before him, he felt the need to examine and exult in them all. He turned after 1982’s twin trials to what many referred to as William Wharton’s “un-filmable” novel. Parker found a way to film it, and in the process crafted a minor masterpiece, and the first film in his American Gothic trilogy. BIRDY is about so many things; the horror of war, the futility of grand romantic dreams, the last days of glorious, unweighted childhood. It succeeds in all those ambitions, but what it is squarely about is the healing power of friendship, of that bond between brothers that even the trauma of battle cannot best. He accomplished this in two different time periods and two different venues; the 60’s early and late, as disparate as a decade could get from itself; then the wide, economically depressed funland expanse of post-WW2 Brooklyn, against the claustrophobic, chiaroscuro lit cell of the VA, where the only shadow to hide within lies beneath the mottled cot. All of Parker’s CV can be described as character studies of one form or another. Here he began a three film sojourn into America’s pockets, its secret soul and even its original sins. He’d leave the punishing abandonment of what once was the City of Brooklyn as it stood circa 1962, for a far more insidious and painful abandonment, one of a whole swath of the country and of its stolen populace.

ANGEL HEART was ostensibly a mashup of horror and noir, a neat trick that any successful director would’ve been drawn to, especially in the MTV 80’s, a music video era (greatly inspired by directors like Parker, I might add) that found itself drawing on the tropes of past cinema genres in a highly stylized way. The synopsis implies a simple morality tale, a private eye hired by a seemingly nefarious talent agent to track down the client who’s eluded him. Perhaps by supernatural means. Parker expanded on the location by quickly resetting the action from Brooklyn to New Orleans, after a quick trip through Harlem. White culture has to answer to and for black culture in America, and Parker employed this almost caricature smoke-and-topcoat shamus to do this investigation. There is great butchery in ANGEL HEART, which I’ve always believed reps the butchery of slavery and the Jim Crow era. There are bold implications and terrible consequences for what we now term “cultural appropriation”, from Johnny Favorite’s Depression-era crooner stealing from black artists to the Krusemark’s adoption of the patchwork voodoo religion. Above all, there is guilt. There is a clear through line, as clear as Capt. Willard’s river to Kurtz, toward White America’s brutality, ongoing. Harry is our surrogate, should we choose. He goes on his own journey of discovery that becomes, unwittingly and surely unwillingly, one of SELF-discovery. His final manic, desperate denial is the same as any who enjoy white privilege to this day while at the same time being wholly unaware of it: I know who I am. If ANGEL HEART is the one he’s going to be remembered for, I believe it’s this subtext, unplanned or otherwise, that will allow it the test of time well over the brilliant cinematography and perhaps Mickey Rourke’s finest performance. Parker would next attempt to expand on this subtext and present it as text, with very, VERY mixed reactions.

MISSISSIPPI BURNING was a project begun with noble intent, I believe. In an era where white men still got to tell the black narrative in America. While I forgive a lot of the film’s dramatic license, I fully agree with its detractors as well. 1988 was a tipping point for tone-deafness in the film industry. Had Parker made BURNING a decade or so prior, it might enjoy a better rep in the context of its time. The end of the 80’s demanded better. I’m a fan of this film, as a film, not as a history. In the same way I’m a fan of well-crafted cinematic narratives that have dated very poorly. The tragedy of MISSISSIPPI BURNING is not just that he made so well-crafted a film at a point in the timeline when something more inclusive, honest, and better representative of history was possible, it’s that he chose fiction for fiction’s sake. Nevertheless, it was the second and final Oscar nomination for direction he’d receive.

Parker remained in this wheelhouse of American guilt for 20th century wrong-doing. COME SEE THE PARADISE was an earnest attempt to depict, to REMIND America really, of the awful Japanese internment camps of the WW2 years, the venerable FDR’s greatest sin. At the height of his filmmaking powers he was unerring in his balance between stylistic pursuit and substance. Alas, with this effort and his previous, glow softened suffer, and the heart of the tale proved elusive as a result.

Maybe he had a moment of clarity then, after these ambitious but perhaps stultifying efforts, and decided to return to a genre that had stood him in good stead. Parker turned to the homespun Celtic kick of Roddy Doyle and decided to create a real-life soul/funk/r&b band from scratch for THE COMMITMENTS, which most will agree is his last great film, though his later fare has its champions, and fair play to them. For a director so well known for his meticulous prep and focus he fared incredibly well in filming wild abandon. Maybe it was a mode he needed to consciously shift into gear for, but once there he cooked quite a stew. The film delighted both critics and audiences, and also helped re-start a soul music resurgence, helped in no little way by the film’s pre-fab ensemble, who’d take to the road for a series of live shows with various members of the celluloid iteration in tow. Some might argue that he retreated to a stance that shied from his previous inquiries regarding the separation of cultures white and other, and the theft perpetrated by one on the other, and in doing crafted so populist an entertainment as to render the argument moot. That’s a fair assessment. Some others might argue that a truthful, passionate depiction of people inspired by others different from their living experience, plaintively plying their art, is honest work as well, no matter their skin color. The debate won’t go away. And it shouldn’t. In terms of moviemaking, though, Parker had fired on all cylinders. Perhaps for the last time.

The remaining decade-plus of his work was, in most estimations, workmanlike, with the odd Parker flourish here and there recognizable to his fans. THE ROAD TO WELLVILLE was an eccentric choice as follow-up, and also as navigation through the early days of a new and unsure decade (He’d already travelled the biz director-driven, to producer-driven, and was now in the who-the-hell’s-driving 90’s). It features several fine performances, from recent and deserved Oscar winner Anthony Hopkins to the still-finding-their-way Matthew Broderick and John Cusack, and its huckster-health theme does still resonate, or at least it SHOULD, as well today as then as late 19th century. If it ultimately found no target to spear, it remains a well crafted and intentioned work. EVITA was no sleepwalk-to the-Oscar gig, even though the resulting film is at best assessed as a dreamily-hued mess. Parker took on the challenge of a legendary broadway smash, one that Hollywood had been desperate to film for well over a decade. A lesser director would’ve turned the camera on and yelled “Sing!”. But Parker was one of the few who’d found success in the post-studio era with one of its warhorse genres, the musical, which had diminished, and decidedly felled such giants as Coppola and Bogdanovich at their peak or near-peak. It’s a noble effort, if it comes up short. It’s not quite empty Oscar-bait, but it’s well shy of a film with a purpose. He either directed or was gifted a great Antonio Banderas perf, and he did his damnedest with Madonna, which is sorta the theme of her career don’t send hate mail. He got a hard-won, decent turn out of her, perhaps not the magnetic dying star that the role demanded, but an actor giving her all. That’s still worth something, even if they’re miscast. For further evidence I direct you toward Matt Damon in THE TALENTED MR. RIPLEY.

And here’s the part that I always hate to talk about. Parker was a director who, in my estimation, never sought validation, but always inspiration. It’s the source of his greatest works, and they remain some of the greatest of the post-studio years. He took his best swipe at an unlikely best-seller, Frank McCourt’s wildly successful but impossibly depressing ANGELA’S ASHES. Like EVITA, it had “prestige” built into it. Like EVITA, it was a package deal. Like EVITA, the studio expected some love from the Academy at the end of the day. I feel like Parker was thwarted from the start, tasked with this take of utter poverty and despondency while asked to chase the gold. Had the book come out sometime early in his career, had he discovered it and championed it, and then saw it through production and release, we may have been gifted something along the lines of a Ken Loach or even Buñuel at his most honest. The gilt and geld of the Hollywood studios, especially at that time competing with the newly-found prestige of the indies, precluded any chance at that, despite next-level perfs from Stephen Rea and Emily Watson. It’s a not-unworthy effort to seek out, especially if you're a Parker fan, but in some ways it may have signaled his ultimate abandonment of this art form. Maybe he felt he’d said enough. Maybe he felt he wouldn’t be allowed to say his piece on his terms anymore. Maybe he looked ahead at filmmaking in the new millennium and decided he’d not update his passport to this new continent. For reasons we never fully received, Parker was leaving.

His last film would be THE LIFE OF DAVID GALE, an anti-capital punishment screed that felt out of joint, and not due to the lack of effort from its stars, Kate Winslet and Christopher Plummer. But it’s an aimless effort, deprived of any real bite on a subject molten to a wide swath of the citizenry. It was met with mixed box office and mixed reviews. It left with nary a trace. And then, whether we realized it or not, so did Alan Parker.

It seemed to be a welcome retirement. At least in my following of my filmmaker heroes. I don’t believe I saw one item, one gossip piece, about a new Alan Parker project, about a studio extending him an offer on a prestige or even indie film. He popped up as interview subject and fairly frequently, and seemed to enjoy his status as thus. He’d crafted a remarkable body of work, and by all witness enjoyed remarking on it. He occasionally served as mentor, as when Christopher Nolan reached out to him. He’d definitely serve as defense attorney, especially when the subject of Mickey Rourke came up. He absolutely and most magnificently served as beacon to a whole generation of film lovers and future filmmakers, kids who were desperate in the corporate/production team/CAA 80’s to cling to films of their generation they could call their own. At a time when art and the so-called “auteur” was a dirty word in Hollywood he was able to put the work he’d crafted into your head and into your heart. I’m not sure if we’re gonna see another Alan Parker, and he’d be most upset by that notion, but if you’re reading this, and you find this possibility unacceptable, go grab a camera and be another Alan Parker. We’re waiting.

[221bcumberb]

“A female Sherlock? Why not. I don’t care. Sherlockina… it’s coming soon.” The question had arisen because I had been asking Benedict Cumberbatch about his views on the casting of Jodie Whittaker as the first lady Doctor Who – the Timelord saga until recently overseen by Sherlock’s showrunner Steven Moffat. And for the record, Cumberbatch is all for Whittaker in the role. “It’s an alien so why can’t it be a woman?” he says. “I don’t speak as a fan as I just speak as someone who wants to see Jodie Whittaker’s performance as the Doctor. I think she’s an extraordinary actress and we’re lucky culturally to have got her to agree to do it, let alone any debate about whether it’s right or wrong. Just go for it… Let’s see what happens.”

But back to Sherlock, and underlying Cumberbatch’s relaxed attitude to the gender of the person playing the detective with the pipe and deerstalker, I believe I detect an actor who is perhaps subconsciously letting go of the role that made his name. “Maybe…. maybe”, is his not unexpected reply to the eternal question of whether there will be more of the globally popular updating of Arthur Conan Doyle. And while there almost will be further episodes at some point, there is also little doubt that the 41-year-old actor’s energies are flowing in a new direction. In short, he’s become a producer.

SunnyMarch TV was launched by Cumberbatch and associates in 2013, France’s Studiocanal buying a 20 per cent stake last year, and its first major project is about to be seen on BBC1. The Child in Time is an adaptation of Ian McEwan’s 1987 novel centred on a grieving children’s author, Stephen Lewis, whose toddler daughter has been kidnapped from a supermarket two years earlier. However, it’s rather more lofty and metaphysical – as you’d expect from any Cumberbatch-McEwan axis – than the burgeoning canon of more visceral TV thrillers (The Missing and Thirteen on the BBC alone) about abducted youngsters. “Despite the depths it plumbs and the emotional trauma at the centre of it, it’s a story about salvation and hope and trying to build a future that accepts and encompasses the loss of that child”, says Cumberbatch with his characteristic flood of articulateness. “It’s almost an examination of childhood and time and what happens in trauma with time but also reflections and how the conscious and sub-conscious can slide… it got quite a lot going for it other than just that horrific, horrific central premise.”

McEwan is having something of a screen moment, what with the upcoming movie of his novella, On Chesil Beach, and now this – the first TV version of one of the author’s books. Cumberbatch appeared in Joe Wright’s 2007 film of McEwan’s Atonement, but this particular script landed on his producer’s desk. That he himself took the central role of Stephen Lewis was not simply because he wanted to play him but because starring in his own productions is helping get his company off the ground – “To bring attention to the material and get it funded”, as he puts it. Playing an ordinary person, albeit in extraordinary circumstances, the role is also something of a departure for Cumberbatch, a go-to actor for real-life geniuses (Alan Turing in The Imitation Game or Thomas Edison in the upcoming The Current War), arrogant fictional brainy types (Sherlock, Steven Strange), or troubled and/or ambivalent characters like Julian Assange or Hamlet. Cumberbatch would never claim to be an ‘everyman’. “It’s a part that is a million miles away from a lot of the stuff that I’ve done… especially the more famous one on telly”, he says, [referring to Sherlock]. “It was a challenge. I was bringing a lot more of myself as I sound and as I move through the world. It felt quite naked at times, and there were moments when I thought ‘am I doing enough?’. “I wanted Stephen to be close to myself, so I brought a lot of my own wardrobe in because I wanted to feel it was me rather than someone else I was putting on every day. It’s not often you get into a role by getting out of a role.” On the afternoon we meet, Cumberbatch’s wardrobe consists of navy chinos and trainers, white t-shirt and open grey linen shirt – the same outfit, I can’t help but notice, that’s he’s wearing later when he’s snapped by paparazzi as (according to Mailonline) “he enjoyed a date night with wife Sophie Hunter”.

Cumberbatch and theatre director Hunter were married in 2015 after having known each other for 17 years. The couple have two sons, two-year-old Christopher, and Hal, who was born in March. Did parenthood make the role of grieving father in The Child in Time more difficult for the actor? “I don’t think you have to be a parent to understand”, he says. “It wasn’t a case of ‘Oh, great, I can get my teeth into something whereby I’ll be emotionally wrought because I’m a new dad for a second time’. It just happened that way.” He didn’t take the part home with him then? “I try not to do that whatever I’m doing. Those are very separate spaces for me, and you have to take care of yourself. In a way, you’re literally kind of breaking down for a whole day but that’s what the drama demands; it makes you realise what the pain must be like for people who actually experience it. It’s unfathomable, so you don’t really want to bring that into your own domestic space.” Hunter is joining her husband as a producer on one of SunnyMarch’s new projects, a film adaptation of Megan Hunter’s eco-apocalyptic debut novel The End We Start From (“a stunning tale of motherhood”, according to Cumberbatch). Other movies on his production slate are an adaptation of Matt Haig’s How to Stop Time, Geoffrey Household’s 1939 adventure classic, Rogue Male, and Rio, which will co-star Cumberbatch and Jake Gyllenhaal, while TV dramas in pre-production include screen versions of Edward St Aubyn’s Melrose novels. For reasons given above, what connects the productions, apart from their origins in literature, is that they all star Cumberbatch. But what was it like for The Child in Time to also wear the producer’s hat? “It’s different because you’re there at the inception of the idea and just thinking who would be right to direct it… I’ve never been at that stage of things before”, he says. “I really, really enjoyed it. But it’s not without its challenges, especially watching the work sooner than you should as an actor, in a very raw state to then give feedback about what you feel as a producer. That was tricky.” And watching and then critiquing himself? “It’s horrible and very peculiar – the way you look, the way you do things, it’s just horrible. It’s full of hate but there’s nothing better than the self-critic in your head for brutality. “It’s a first time, we’ll see how it works”, he continues. “Everyone had a great experience making it which is a testament to us doing something right as a production team.” The cast of The Child in Time also includes Trainspotting-to-Boardwalk Empire actress Kelly Macdonald (playing Lewis’s estranged wife), Stephen Campbell Moore and Saskia Reeves. Stephen Butchard adapted it. “I’ve been a McEwan fan since I was old enough to kind of understand stuff… I would read the book almost the minute it came out”, says Cumberbatch. “Atonement was the first book [of his] I read and funnily ended up in a few years later. And The Cement Garden was first the first production I went to. There was a production of it being made when I studied it [at Manchester University] and I thought about auditioning for it and then I thought ‘I can’t do that… I’m not a good enough actor.” The Child in Time was one McEwan novel that evaded his omnivorous consumption, however. “I hadn’t read it”, says Cumberbatch. “And there will be expectations from those who know the novel even though it was released in the late 80s. We’ve re-contextualised it and set it in the present day [because] it’s partly a critique of the Thatcherite era.” In the meantime, in another departure for the actor (“Unlike any character I’ve played before”, he promises) it was announced last week that Cumberbatch will be playing the father of gay bare-knuckle-fighter Mikey Walsh in the film Gypsy Boy. And with so much going on you might think that he wouldn’t have time to make another film in the all-star Avengers superhero series, let alone three. However two more of the multiplex blockbusters in the role of Steven Strange have been filmed, with another in pre-production. “I’m very late to the party but it’s just amazing to be part of it. Anything’s possible especially as I can go like that”, he says, clicking his fingers, “and appear anywhere”. He might equally have been describing his future prospects.

[lokgifsandmusings]

Definitive Ranking of Book 4 Episodes, #1/13

1. 4x02 Korra Alone

Non-linear all around perfect episode that explores Korra’s struggles with PTSD and I can’t even be funny about this. Oh and Toph.

This is a post that’s taken me some time to write, because addressing the perfection of this particular episode is a daunting task. I mean it. It’s not just the best episode of Book 4, it’s the best episode of the franchise. The most daring as well.

For a little bit of context, there’s an incredibly popular episode from Avatar: the Last Airbender called “Zuko Alone.” It picks up after he leaves Iroh in “Avatar Day,” because his uncle kind of pointed out that the hunt for the Avatar might be a tad on the futile side. His brain can’t reconcile this, so the episode instead shows him trying to blindly stick to this task, while feeling as though he has no place in the world, and being rejected by anyone who finds out who he really is. He struggles with inner darkness, inner pain, and the whole time his story is punctuated by flashbacks of his relationship to his sister, his mother’s disappearance, and his father’s ascension to Fire Lord.

I’m not sure I’d call it the high point of ATLA (“Crossroads of Destiny” gets that honor), but it is kind of everything with regards to Zuko, easily one of the strongest characters Bryke have ever written. Also it did a great job of not endorsing his self-destructive tendencies or making excuses for him.

“Korra Alone” was announced (and screened) at the 2014 New York Comic Con, and when Bryke first said the episode title, the audience screamed. Smugly, from the comfort of my couch, I shook my head at the livestream and declared that there was no way this could measure up.

Well, color me dead wrong. I forgot that it was starring Korra, and she not only measures up, she creates a new goddamned reality the world didn’t know it needed.

Just thinking about the episode for first-time viewers, it does exactly what it needs to do. It’s impactful coming off the [mostly] Korra-less “After All These Years” to not just see her, but feel what she’s going through and feel that isolation, even when she’s surrounded by her parents and other loved ones. Though it somewhat takes on the travel+flashbacks format of “Zuko Alone,” even Korra’s present-day plot isn’t strictly sequential—most notably with us learning the real reason she entered the earthbending cage-match, with the flashes moving faster to get her to the swamp. It gives the entire episode a very ungrounded feel, which for the viewer does two things:

You desperately begin to want Korra to connect and be stabilized, because there is an inherent discomfort from the loose form for your brain (not a bad thing...an effective discomfort)

It REALLY gives the impression that time is passing in this episode

The second point is especially striking when you consider the scope. We’ve got in one “plotline” (for lack of a better term): Korra underground fighting, following a ‘dog’, and getting sucked into the swamp where she meets Toph. This alone covers significant ground. Then we have her flashbacks of leaving Republic City, not improving in her home and Senna begging her to go to Katara, Katara’s first healing session, the letters from friends that paint time as passing, Katara’s ‘wiggle your toe’ session, Tenzin visiting, Korra’s narrated letter to Asami while she meditates and trains, her leaving the SWT, her failing to apprehend the thieves, turning from Yue Bay, cutting her hair and donning new clothes, the tree of time scene, then traversing every possible landscape.

HOW WAS THIS ALL IN A 22 MINUTE EPISODE?

Yeah. This is three years, no question about it. It’s visually stunning, but there’s also this extreme sense of loss that the viewer is clued into, and the aimlessness that is heavily felt. Korra’s physical appearance changing was the external manifestation of this, and the symbolism surrounding it was as clear as when Iroh and Zuko did the same nearly 8 years prior. Toph popping out at the end is the one bit of relief, and it *really* shines, especially given her voice actor being perfect and sounding instantly familiar to us (did Philece Sampler just watch hours and hours of Jessie Flower footage or something??).

I can’t see this not landing for someone the first time through, to be perfectly honest. It sets up Korra’s journey for the season, and with her still out of touch from Raava and still away from friends and family, there’s a lot that needs resolving, and that the audience should definitely want to see resolved.

Placing “Korra Alone” in the context of the entire season, and the series at that (or even the franchise) is a different ballgame. Not a worse one, but it certainly means that you can consider this in Korra’s healing arc as a whole.

I’ll fully admit I was not 100% on-board with Dark!Korra being the representation for PTSD at first, even though this is, at the end of the day, a Y7 show that needs to break down these concepts to children. However, it worked within this episode, and given how the whole thing was resolved through mindful meditation (plus how the little bit of metal Korra extracted didn’t end up being a cure-all), I think it justified itself in a general sense.

In the case of “Korra Alone” alone (lol), it worked in a sort of 3rd person omniscient way, to quickly convey Korra reliving this moment and having a ton of anxiety each time it occurred. What had the potential for being a bit of a cheap visual metaphor instead mostly landed, giving us a kind of visceral understanding of that anxiety (and as someone who’s had to explain what that feels like to people who’ve never experienced it, that’s really no easy task).

When it comes to Korra’s healing arc as a whole, I’m going to have to be an asshole and tell you that Gretchen ( @theonewithpurplehair ) and I are planning on writing something about it when she gets back from South Africa. It will be lengthy and emotional and talk about THEMES and how important this is. We do that.

But even in advance of it, I think there’s a point to be made about Bryke choosing to have a healing arc in the first place. They didn’t have to, you know. And for some, especially in light of the indelicately worded “I needed to suffer” quote from the final episode, having two white men use a bisexual indigenous woman to explore a story about recovering from extensive trauma is uncomfortable, which is absolutely a valid tension.

However, something I think @glamourweaver highlighted best back when fandom dialogue was more...heightened, was that like it or not, Korra’s gone through major traumas throughout the show. In Book 1, she lost most of her bending and was so affected there was not-subtle-at-all suicide imagery included. Then Aang’s magic touch fixed her depression! Yay!

In Book 2, she had Raava ripped out of her and lost her (admittedly newfound) connection to her past lives, calling into question her very identity as the Avatar. The whole astral-projection thing she did? That was just Korra’s strength of soul, separate from anything to do with reincarnated powers. So yeah, reconnecting with Raava and becoming the first Avatar of a new spiritual age would totally be healing, but the idea that there’s no trauma she’d need to explore? Book 3 is near and dear to me, but in many ways it almost feels like a new show, complete with not bothering to tap into implications of the first 2 seasons. Whoops!

It’s yeah, not great how much she was put through the wringer when you get down to it. But Bryke are conscientious and tend to fix their mistakes. In a lot of ways, Korra being given PTSD—like...realistic PTSD—and an ensuing healing arc in Book 4 was the direct answer to everything previously glossed over.

The result? To that, I’ll just go ahead and quote @beccatoria’s essay (seriously, read it), because it lays out the meaning so well:

“This brings us to the final part of my argument: forming new meanings. The therapies I have mentioned so far focus on the physiological issues. The brain blows a fuse and can't process what it has experienced, so if you fix the fuse, you fix the processing problem. This still leaves a person who has been through an extremely traumatic event. PTSD almost always presents alongside issues such as depression and can lead to feelings of isolation and guilt. Individuals may either feel emotionally disconnected or emotionally out of control and have often internalised damaging messages as a result of their trauma. There is often a focus on creating new meanings as these memories are re-examined. We see this in Korra's evolving attitude to her own experiences.

Zaheer asserts that her power is limitless. She should never have been able to survive the poison. He offers her an opportunity to recontextualise her survival as evidence of her enormous resilience and strength rather than as a failure because she did not survive unscathed. While she is recovering, Katara tells her about Aang and how he chose to find meaning in his suffering. “What will I find?” Korra wonders. “Won't it be interesting to find out?” Katara asks. The answer comes in her final conversation with Tenzin. Korra chooses to form new meanings for her experiences, and chooses to find a message of compassion and empathy.”

Yes, the landing was not 100% perfect, but the recontextualization of her suffering and subsequent empowerment through that was clear. Korra ended the series hopeful about the future, and more at peace than we had seen her—certainly more at peace than that flailing teenager who was more willing to demand a duel with Amon than admit fear. She had grown and found ways to reconcile what happened into how she wanted to lead her life.

Do you mind if I get personal for three seconds? I have general anxiety, as well as a very specific (and admittedly mild) trauma associated with driving, and though I’ll never equate my experience to Korra’s brutalization (seriously, mine just involves a hangover, a large cup of coffee, pizza, and a bridge), there is something about that terror of being out-of-control I identify with, and it features so strongly in Korra’s arc. I also know what it’s like to want to will something away and fight against everything that’s happening. Why can’t my stupid brain just STOP?

But the thing is, like beccatoria said, it’s about contextualizing it. Anxiety never goes away, and it certainly can’t be willed out of the forefront. But you can choose to look at things with a new point of view. To be able to sit with a feeling and recognize what it is, even if it’s massively uncomfortable or puts your body in flight-or-fright mode. Personally, I’ve come to look at my anxiety/intrusive thoughts as a very badly behaved cat. The cat is weirdly trying to protect me, and truly thinks this is what will help keep me safe, but well...it’s an idiot:

Still, it’s *my* idiot, damnit, and now when I drive, I can just picture her in the passenger seat chewing on the emergency brake. She’s also the survival mechanism my brain came up with to shield me from more chaotic forces in my life, and that’s kind of neato, when you get down to it.

*Kind of*, okay? (I still need to replace this chair, though Trystane Nymeros has done more damage to it with his many toes).

The point is, Korra’s story is powerful and salubrious because she just...goes through hell and back, she really does. But she not only finds meaning in it, she finds positivity and hope. She is at her MOST secure when she flings herself in front of that spirit gun, and then talks down the season antagonist with a few words. It’s uplifting, without pulling *any* punches on how ugly and terrifying and isolating PTSD can be.

There were punches thrown outside of “Korra Alone” too, but that was the episode that waded in most deeply, and somehow did it in an appropriate fashion for a Y7 show. I can’t sing its praises enough, truly.

Having laid this all out, it seems almost trite to mention the Korrasami aspects of the episode. It didn’t escape the fandom that Korra telling Tonraq and Senna she wanted to go back home read like a coming out conversation, and the “Dear Asami” sequence is without question the most stunning of the episode. Though @queertoonqueertoons lays out why there’s other reasons for that as well. But like, what can be said? Korra lets herself be vulnerable around Asami in a way she won’t with others, and Asami asks for very little in return. It was a nice, continuing thread, but it never became a focal point of the episode, or the series, so shame on me if I buck the trend.

I can give overall thoughts on Book 4 when I pull together the final post for this ranking, but like Korra, I think I’m ending on a pensive and positive note. “Korra Alone” will do that for you, even though it may be the darkest episode of the franchise. What a masterpiece.

#13: 4x08 “Remembrances”

#12: 4x11 “Kuvira’s Gambit”

#11: 4x09 “Beyond the Wilds”

#10: 4x07 “Reunion”

#9: 4x06 The “Battle of Zaofu”

#8. 4x12 “Day of Colossus”

#7 4x01 “After All These Years”

#6 4x03 “The Coronation”

#5 4x04 “The Calling”

#4 4x05 “Enemy at the Gates”

#3 4x10 “Operation Beifong”

#2 4x13 “The Last Stand”

Book 2 ranking/essays found here

[trendingnewsb]

Quentin Tarantinos History of Disturbing Behavior Toward His Actresses

For Quentin Tarantino, a man whose taste for portraying violence against women has often been mistaken for feminist filmmaking, the line between fiction and reality is equally blurred.

As a writer and director, Tarantino is famous for pushing his female heroines towards acts of brutal violence; but more often than not, Tarantinos women find themselves on the receiving end of the directors graphic imaginationraped, beaten, killed, whipped and branded.

Like so many (male) directors before him, Tarantinos work has relied on the rape-revenge fantasyan outdated trope that throws in a sexual-assault backstory instead of doing the work of female character development. As a Mic article, Kill Bill and Our Troubled Relationship with Rape Revenge Movies elaborated, While sexual assault is worthy of in depth exploration on screen, these rape and revenge films do not depict the reality of how these assaults can affect women. Rather, they look to fetishize the act and use it as motivation for unabashed gore and violence. What should be empowering films featuring women rising out of past trauma to exact justice are often instead turned into a form of torture porn.

And yet, Tarantino has often been called a feministusually by other men. Hes the auteur of choice for cinephiles who like their directors male and their feminist films full of sexualized violence and lingering feet footage. Harvey Weinstein himself called Tarantino the most pro-woman ever, continuing, [Look at] Uma Thurman [in Kill Bill], Pam Grier [in Jackie Brown], Melanie Laurent and Diane Kruger [in Inglourious Basterds].

Since Weinstein, who stands accused of sexual assault by more than 90 women, asked, maybe it is time to revisit those iconic Tarantino heroinesand take the director to task not just for the female characters hes created, but the real-life women he mistreated in the process.

In recent years, Tarantinos legacy has come under fire by increasingly skeptical critics. In 2015, The New York Times A.O. Scott called 2015s The Hateful Eight an orgy of elaborately justified misogyny. And new allegations by his former muse, Uma Thurman, threaten to unmask Tarantino as little more than what his films would suggest: a man who is altogether too interested in torturing women.

I have to say it was very strange being strangled by the director.

Diane Kruger on Quentin Tarantino

Over the weekend, Thurman accused Harvey Weinstein of sexual assault in The New York Times.

In a series of painful, shocking anecdotes, the actress also revealed that Tarantino pressured her into a potentially life-threatening scene while filming Kill Bill. Thurman told the Times that this incident occurred after she had disclosed to Tarantino that Weinstein, who produced Kill Bill and Pulp Fiction, had previously assaulted her.

Thurman had expressed that she wanted a stunt person to do the dangerous-seeming scene, which involved operating a wobbly car that she described as a death trap. But Tarantino was insistent. He was furious because Id cost them a lot of time. But I was scared. He said: I promise you the car is fine. Its a straight piece of road, Thurman recalled. Hit 40 miles per hour or your hair wont blow the right way and Ill make you do it again. She added, The seat wasnt screwed down properly. It was a sand road and it was not a straight road.

Newly-released footage shows the subsequent crash, which Thurman says resulted in a concussion and knee damage. She described the accident to the Times, remembering, The steering wheel was at my belly and my legs were jammed under me. I felt this searing pain and thought, Oh my God, Im never going to walk againWhen I came back from the hospital in a neck brace with my knees damaged and a large massive egg on my head and a concussion, I wanted to see the car and I was very upset. Quentin and I had an enormous fight, and I accused him of trying to kill me. And he was very angry at that, I guess understandably, because he didnt feel he had tried to kill me.

Thurman also told The New York Times that Tarantino withheld the crash footage from her for years, saying, Quentin finally atoned by giving it to me after 15 years, right? She added, Not that it matters now, with my permanently damaged neck and my screwed-up knees.

A recent Sydney Morning Herald article fleshed out the connection between the directors oeuvre and the new accusations: No matter how Tarantino might defend his blood-spattered back catalogue as pro-woman or true cinematic equality, violence in the QT pantheon so often seems to be, with a few exceptions, something done by men to womenTarantino loves to put his female characters through hell. We know now, from Thurmans account of his on-set behaviour, that he also likes to do the same to at least one of his actresses in the name of authenticity in performance.

In the past, Tarantino has admitted that he knew enough to do more than I did about Harvey Weinstein. He told The New York Times that, There was more to it than just the normal rumors, the normal gossip. It wasnt secondhand. I knew he did a couple of these things.I wish I had taken responsibility for what I heard. If I had done the work I should have done then, I would have had to not work with him. Tarantino said that his ex-girlfriend, Mira Sorvino, had told him about Weinsteins unwelcome advances and unwanted touching, and that he also knew about Rose McGowans settlement with the producer. Weinstein distributed his directorial debut Reservoir Dogs in 1992, and has served as a producer on every Tarantino project since.

In the New York Times story, Thurman briefly summarized other abuses she suffered on the set of Kill Bill, with the Times reporting that, Tarantino had done the honors with some of the sadistic flourishes himself, spitting in her face in the scene where Michael Madsen is seen on screen doing it and choking her with a chain in the scene where a teenager named Gogo is on screen doing it.

In a subsequentDeadlineinterview, Tarantino called Thurmans car crash one of the biggest regrets of his life. He told Deadline that the good things I did are in the Maureen Dowd article, butcomplained that, they are de-emphasized to not make any impression. Thesegood thingsseem to include making Weinstein apologize to Thurman for assaulting her, and the herculean task of going to a storage facility to find the tapes of Thurmans car crash, which she told theTimesshes been trying to get for years. Tarantino expressed zero regret for strangling and spitting on his heroine, essentially bragging to Deadline about the skill with which he spat on Thurman for aKill Billscene. So the idea is, Im doing it, Im taking responsibility, Tarantino explained. Also, Im the director, so I can kind of art direct this spit. I know where I want it to land.

Actress Jessica Chastain commented on this perverse directorial dynamic in a series of tweets on Saturday, writing, I keep imagining Tarantino spitting in Umas face and strangling her with a chain for KILL BILL. How many images of women in media do we celebrate that showcase abuse? When did this become normalized entertainment? When violence against women is used as a plot device to make the characters stronger then we have a problem. It is not empowering to be beaten and raped, yet so many films make it their pheonix [sp] moment for women. We dont need abuse in order to be powerful. We already are.

Chastain concluded, Directors inserting themselves into a scene depicting abuse is crossing a boundary. How can an actor feel safe when your director is strangling you? Judd Apatow also reacted to the allegations on Twitter, writing, The number one job a producer and director has on a set is to make sure that everyone is safe. That can mean safe from reckless stunt preparation or safe from predatory producers physically attacking them. There is no excuse for not protecting your cast and crew.

Thurman isnt the only woman who has suffered from Tarantinos boundary-crossing.

Diane Kruger, another actress whose Tarantino role Weinstein pointed to as one of the directors feminist credentials, told Parade about her unique death scene in Inglourious Basterds: I get strangled, which was especially weird because you feel it when someone is choking you, so it was an interesting day at the office. The funny part is that Quentins hands are in the close-up. I wont give away the name of the actor who kills me, but Quentin said, Hes not going to do it right, itll either be too much or too little. I know exactly what I need and I think I should just do it. I have to say it was very strange being strangled by the director.

In an appearance on The Graham Norton Show, Tarantino recalled asking Kruger if she would let [him] strangle her: And so I just said to her, what I want to do is, Im going to be the hands, and what Im going to do is, Im going to just strangle you. Im going to cut off your air for just a little bit of time, were going to see the reaction in your face, and then well cut. He bragged, It was real. It looked really good, explaining that, When somebody is actually being strangled there is a thing that happens to their face, they turn a certain color, and their veins pop out and stuff. In other films, he complained, It always just seems fake.

In an interview promoting 2007s Grindhouse, Fergie recalled being bitten by the director during one rehearsal. She said, He came to the set and ran lines with me. In one scene Quentin got really into the character and bit me. My manager has it on his camera. Im not going to sue him or anything, but I wanted documentation. It was crazy cool.

Rose McGowan, who also starred in Grindhouse, wrote in her new memoir Brave that, The first time I met Tarantino, and for years after, every time hed see me, he said, Rose! I have your movie Jawbreaker on laser disc! I cant tell you how many times I used the shot where youre painting your toes!' She continued, That means Tarantino paid extra money to jerk off to my young feet and told me about it loudly, over and over, for years, in front of numerous people.

Additionally, according to The Telegraph, McGowan writes that for all the praise Tarantino receives for depicting strong female characters in his films, he also beats the s— out of them for his enjoyment.

Thurman, who has spent years fighting for her video evidence, and even more years staying silent, has some of the strongest insight into the cult of Tarantinothe fictional women he brings to life and the real ones he endangers. Personally, it has taken me 47 years to stop calling people who are mean to you in love with you, she told the Times. It took a long time because I think that as little girls we are conditioned to believe that cruelty and love somehow have a connection and that is like the sort of era that we need to evolve out of.

Tarantino is currently on the hunt for an authentic Polish thespian to play the part of Roman Polanski in his upcoming film, which will reportedly take on the 1969 Manson Family murder of Sharon Tate.

This piece has been updated to include comments from a Deadline interview with Tarantino published late Monday.

Read more: https://www.thedailybeast.com/quentin-tarantinos-history-of-disturbing-behavior-toward-his-actresses

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Quentin Tarantinos History of Disturbing Behavior Toward His Actresses

For Quentin Tarantino, a man whose taste for portraying violence against women has often been mistaken for feminist filmmaking, the line between fiction and reality is equally blurred.

As a writer and director, Tarantino is famous for pushing his female heroines towards acts of brutal violence; but more often than not, Tarantinos women find themselves on the receiving end of the directors graphic imaginationraped, beaten, killed, whipped and branded.

Like so many (male) directors before him, Tarantinos work has relied on the rape-revenge fantasyan outdated trope that throws in a sexual-assault backstory instead of doing the work of female character development. As a Mic article, Kill Bill and Our Troubled Relationship with Rape Revenge Movies elaborated, While sexual assault is worthy of in depth exploration on screen, these rape and revenge films do not depict the reality of how these assaults can affect women. Rather, they look to fetishize the act and use it as motivation for unabashed gore and violence. What should be empowering films featuring women rising out of past trauma to exact justice are often instead turned into a form of torture porn.

And yet, Tarantino has often been called a feministusually by other men. Hes the auteur of choice for cinephiles who like their directors male and their feminist films full of sexualized violence and lingering feet footage. Harvey Weinstein himself called Tarantino the most pro-woman ever, continuing, [Look at] Uma Thurman [in Kill Bill], Pam Grier [in Jackie Brown], Melanie Laurent and Diane Kruger [in Inglourious Basterds].

Since Weinstein, who stands accused of sexual assault by more than 90 women, asked, maybe it is time to revisit those iconic Tarantino heroinesand take the director to task not just for the female characters hes created, but the real-life women he mistreated in the process.

In recent years, Tarantinos legacy has come under fire by increasingly skeptical critics. In 2015, The New York Times A.O. Scott called 2015s The Hateful Eight an orgy of elaborately justified misogyny. And new allegations by his former muse, Uma Thurman, threaten to unmask Tarantino as little more than what his films would suggest: a man who is altogether too interested in torturing women.

I have to say it was very strange being strangled by the director.

Diane Kruger on Quentin Tarantino

Over the weekend, Thurman accused Harvey Weinstein of sexual assault in The New York Times.

In a series of painful, shocking anecdotes, the actress also revealed that Tarantino pressured her into a potentially life-threatening scene while filming Kill Bill. Thurman told the Times that this incident occurred after she had disclosed to Tarantino that Weinstein, who produced Kill Bill and Pulp Fiction, had previously assaulted her.

Thurman had expressed that she wanted a stunt person to do the dangerous-seeming scene, which involved operating a wobbly car that she described as a death trap. But Tarantino was insistent. He was furious because Id cost them a lot of time. But I was scared. He said: I promise you the car is fine. Its a straight piece of road, Thurman recalled. Hit 40 miles per hour or your hair wont blow the right way and Ill make you do it again. She added, The seat wasnt screwed down properly. It was a sand road and it was not a straight road.

Newly-released footage shows the subsequent crash, which Thurman says resulted in a concussion and knee damage. She described the accident to the Times, remembering, The steering wheel was at my belly and my legs were jammed under me. I felt this searing pain and thought, Oh my God, Im never going to walk againWhen I came back from the hospital in a neck brace with my knees damaged and a large massive egg on my head and a concussion, I wanted to see the car and I was very upset. Quentin and I had an enormous fight, and I accused him of trying to kill me. And he was very angry at that, I guess understandably, because he didnt feel he had tried to kill me.

Thurman also told The New York Times that Tarantino withheld the crash footage from her for years, saying, Quentin finally atoned by giving it to me after 15 years, right? She added, Not that it matters now, with my permanently damaged neck and my screwed-up knees.

A recent Sydney Morning Herald article fleshed out the connection between the directors oeuvre and the new accusations: No matter how Tarantino might defend his blood-spattered back catalogue as pro-woman or true cinematic equality, violence in the QT pantheon so often seems to be, with a few exceptions, something done by men to womenTarantino loves to put his female characters through hell. We know now, from Thurmans account of his on-set behaviour, that he also likes to do the same to at least one of his actresses in the name of authenticity in performance.

In the past, Tarantino has admitted that he knew enough to do more than I did about Harvey Weinstein. He told The New York Times that, There was more to it than just the normal rumors, the normal gossip. It wasnt secondhand. I knew he did a couple of these things.I wish I had taken responsibility for what I heard. If I had done the work I should have done then, I would have had to not work with him. Tarantino said that his ex-girlfriend, Mira Sorvino, had told him about Weinsteins unwelcome advances and unwanted touching, and that he also knew about Rose McGowans settlement with the producer. Weinstein distributed his directorial debut Reservoir Dogs in 1992, and has served as a producer on every Tarantino project since.

In the New York Times story, Thurman briefly summarized other abuses she suffered on the set of Kill Bill, with the Times reporting that, Tarantino had done the honors with some of the sadistic flourishes himself, spitting in her face in the scene where Michael Madsen is seen on screen doing it and choking her with a chain in the scene where a teenager named Gogo is on screen doing it.

In a subsequentDeadlineinterview, Tarantino called Thurmans car crash one of the biggest regrets of his life. He told Deadline that the good things I did are in the Maureen Dowd article, butcomplained that, they are de-emphasized to not make any impression. Thesegood thingsseem to include making Weinstein apologize to Thurman for assaulting her, and the herculean task of going to a storage facility to find the tapes of Thurmans car crash, which she told theTimesshes been trying to get for years. Tarantino expressed zero regret for strangling and spitting on his heroine, essentially bragging to Deadline about the skill with which he spat on Thurman for aKill Billscene. So the idea is, Im doing it, Im taking responsibility, Tarantino explained. Also, Im the director, so I can kind of art direct this spit. I know where I want it to land.

Actress Jessica Chastain commented on this perverse directorial dynamic in a series of tweets on Saturday, writing, I keep imagining Tarantino spitting in Umas face and strangling her with a chain for KILL BILL. How many images of women in media do we celebrate that showcase abuse? When did this become normalized entertainment? When violence against women is used as a plot device to make the characters stronger then we have a problem. It is not empowering to be beaten and raped, yet so many films make it their pheonix [sp] moment for women. We dont need abuse in order to be powerful. We already are.

Chastain concluded, Directors inserting themselves into a scene depicting abuse is crossing a boundary. How can an actor feel safe when your director is strangling you? Judd Apatow also reacted to the allegations on Twitter, writing, The number one job a producer and director has on a set is to make sure that everyone is safe. That can mean safe from reckless stunt preparation or safe from predatory producers physically attacking them. There is no excuse for not protecting your cast and crew.

Thurman isnt the only woman who has suffered from Tarantinos boundary-crossing.

Diane Kruger, another actress whose Tarantino role Weinstein pointed to as one of the directors feminist credentials, told Parade about her unique death scene in Inglourious Basterds: I get strangled, which was especially weird because you feel it when someone is choking you, so it was an interesting day at the office. The funny part is that Quentins hands are in the close-up. I wont give away the name of the actor who kills me, but Quentin said, Hes not going to do it right, itll either be too much or too little. I know exactly what I need and I think I should just do it. I have to say it was very strange being strangled by the director.

In an appearance on The Graham Norton Show, Tarantino recalled asking Kruger if she would let [him] strangle her: And so I just said to her, what I want to do is, Im going to be the hands, and what Im going to do is, Im going to just strangle you. Im going to cut off your air for just a little bit of time, were going to see the reaction in your face, and then well cut. He bragged, It was real. It looked really good, explaining that, When somebody is actually being strangled there is a thing that happens to their face, they turn a certain color, and their veins pop out and stuff. In other films, he complained, It always just seems fake.

In an interview promoting 2007s Grindhouse, Fergie recalled being bitten by the director during one rehearsal. She said, He came to the set and ran lines with me. In one scene Quentin got really into the character and bit me. My manager has it on his camera. Im not going to sue him or anything, but I wanted documentation. It was crazy cool.

Rose McGowan, who also starred in Grindhouse, wrote in her new memoir Brave that, The first time I met Tarantino, and for years after, every time hed see me, he said, Rose! I have your movie Jawbreaker on laser disc! I cant tell you how many times I used the shot where youre painting your toes!' She continued, That means Tarantino paid extra money to jerk off to my young feet and told me about it loudly, over and over, for years, in front of numerous people.

Additionally, according to The Telegraph, McGowan writes that for all the praise Tarantino receives for depicting strong female characters in his films, he also beats the s— out of them for his enjoyment.

Thurman, who has spent years fighting for her video evidence, and even more years staying silent, has some of the strongest insight into the cult of Tarantinothe fictional women he brings to life and the real ones he endangers. Personally, it has taken me 47 years to stop calling people who are mean to you in love with you, she told the Times. It took a long time because I think that as little girls we are conditioned to believe that cruelty and love somehow have a connection and that is like the sort of era that we need to evolve out of.

Tarantino is currently on the hunt for an authentic Polish thespian to play the part of Roman Polanski in his upcoming film, which will reportedly take on the 1969 Manson Family murder of Sharon Tate.

This piece has been updated to include comments from a Deadline interview with Tarantino published late Monday.

Read more: https://www.thedailybeast.com/quentin-tarantinos-history-of-disturbing-behavior-toward-his-actresses

from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2IslkJV via Viral News HQ