#when in fact all three of those things are fucking unrelated and connecting them inevitably leads to

[giantkillerjack]

Uh-oh! You are like, SOOO awkward!!

You're so awkward that it is occasionally mildly uncomfortable for people!

You're so awkward that sometimes people are confused by you and then there are awkward silences!

You're so awkward ...... that ultimately no one is harmed!!

Oh damn!!! What a vile crime you have committed! What an unforgivable thing it is to make a fellow human briefly confused!

Why, if *I* were ever briefly confused and kind of uncomfortable as a result, I'd be devastated.... by the absolute net zero change in my happiness and health! - From which I might never recover!! Yes indeed! No punishment can ever be enough for you!!

So you better absolutely hate yourself for it.

Better be SO MEAN to yourself about every single missed social cue so you don't forget your horrible crime! Meaner than you'd ever dream of being to someone else for the same thing! This is YOUR responsibility!

You need to show the world that you KNOW you are bad by punishing yourself constantly! After all, think of all the people who BENEFIT from you punishing yourself! - No, really! Think about it! Think about who benefits from your pain.

Think of alllllll the definitely-good people that your definitely-necessary self-torment definitely helps! I mean, you can't just cut off their definitely-life-sustaining supply of your suffering, right?? Sure, everyone else has a breaking point, but you're probably the only person in human history who doesn't, right? Best not to question it probably. Sure, it's a symptom that billions of people with trauma have had, but who knows? You could be a one-in-seven-billion exception. Anything's possible!

Instead, better just accept that idea that bullies carry like guns in holsters - the idea that people who have trouble with social cues deserve to suffer. Better carry on the burden they placed on you until you drop. Aid the cause of the callous by enforcing shame and suffering upon yourself extra hard; try your best to do their work for them. They're very busy.

Better not recognize that you need patience and kindness to heal from your trauma. Better not find out that it was trauma rather than personal weakness filling your head with self-hating thoughts. Better not find out it wasn't your fault.

Better not find out that awkwardness is not inherently harmful or unkind, and, in fact, the people who act like it is *are the ones enacting harm and being cruel.*

Better not get righteously angry when you realize just how much unnecessary damage this has done to you. After all, if you get mad, you might realize you deserve better. You might even feel brave enough to DEMAND better! You might build boundaries that keep you safe! You might make other people think they deserve to feel safe too! And we obviously can't be having that, so...

Better not show yourself even a little kindness a little bit at a time.

Better not make a habit out of it after all that practice.

Better not get confident.

Especially if you can't first wipe out every trace of awkward. (And you probably never will. Because people who experience absolute social certainty at all times tend to be insufferable assholes that enforce the status quo. And you just don't have the stock portfolio for that.)

Better not be confident and awkward because then you might confuse and delight people

- you might accidentally end up making other people feel less shame for their social difficulties

- you might make isolated, traumatized, and shy people feel like they deserve to be included in social situations

- you might even make them feel they can be themselves around you

- you might start loving the effect you have on a room

- you might enjoy conversations more

- you might forgive yourself and bounce back from shame more easily and frequently

- you might come to enjoy some of those moments of harmless confusion you cause because NOBODY expects the Confident Awkward, and that can genuinely be an advantage in social situations

- you might stop apologizing so much.

- you might find that socializing is like a video game: it requires practice but also a safe space for it to be fun and positive.

Or if you can't become assertive and confident, better not remain awkward and shy and quiet, and then love and forgive yourself anyway!

Why, it would be carnage!!

In either scenario, you run the risk of finding out that it's not your fault that safe spaces full of kind people can be really hard to find, create, and nurture. You could end up building a skillset that helps you do those things if you're not careful!

If you start giving yourself even the tiniest amount of grace at a time, you will find that you've accessed a gateway drug with extreme long-term side effects:

- You might realize that it was never your fault that it took so long to like yourself.

- You might realize that you were always worth talking to, even when you didn't like yourself and communication felt impossibly difficult.

- You might realize that you'll still be worth talking to even if communication becomes harder as you age and/or experience disability.

- You might come to know that you deserve to be heard even on bad days when words come slow and blurry.

You might discover that you were always deserving of kindness, first and foremost from yourself.

So. As you can see, it's FAR too much of a risk to start granting your awkward self free pardons for your many heinous and harmless crimes. Better to just leave it there.

[wardoftheedgeloaves]

China Story Time II: Learn Programming and Epidemiology the Very Hard Way

I haven’t posted more than two installments of my promised series on Chinese historical linguistics and dialectology. In lieu of progress on it, please gather round the campfire and enjoy this entirely unrelated story about the time I taught the summer camp from hell in Shenzhen. (Dialectology tie-in: we once had a cabbie who only [?] spoke Canto.)

I wish to emphasize that this story has not been embellished.

Summer in China is a sultry and slow-paced affair for the private-school English teacher--you stop teaching seriously in late May, school gets out in late June, and you don’t have to be back until early September. Your pay is good enough that you’ve got savings to last you the summer, but you could always use a bit of spare cash. Unless your social situation is good, your isolation (and the weather) doesn’t help your work ethic too much. Your life is lived at tea houses, reading thinkpieces and books and procrastinating on writing more thinkpieces and working on your Mandarin and getting around to that damned monograph. (Alternative English-teacher mode: hit the bars prowling for locals who may or may not fit within the (n/2)+7 rule, demolish a couple of six-packs’ worth of alcohol, hit the hay at 2:30 in the morning, wake up at noon, repeat. I was luckily never this much of a degenerate.)

As in the US, the affluent Chinese parent often sends their offspring to summer camp for some educational enrichment and peace and quiet at home. So it was that a recruiter offered me, and another English teacher (we’ll call him...Nick) in Chengdu, the chance to earn 7000 kuai (~$1050) each teaching programming in Shenzhen. A class in the morning from 9-12, repeated from Monday to Friday, with a chance for a second week in Lu’an, Anhui. Plane tickets and accommodation included, other details vague. Technically illegal--you’re not supposed to do any work outside of the job sponsoring your visa--but nobody cares about summer camps.

To learn programming, the students (and we) are provided with little inch-by-inch-by-inch plastic cubes with wheels called “Pocket-bots” or something of the sort. These are actually rather nifty little gadgets. You connect to them with your phone or computer in a spacious computer lab (or so the brochures say) and click and drag instructions to create and run programs. E.g., you might tell the bot to go forward for 10 seconds at speed 10, then check to see if it was on white (rather than black) paper, and sing a little song if it is, then turn left and repeat. The software allowed you to do if-loops, for-loops, and while-loops at the very least, which is pretty good for small kids. Satisfied that we would have the equipment needed to teach the class, we packed our Pocket-bots and arrived in Shenzhen on a sticky, hot, sunny July morning.

Now, a word on Shenzhen. In 1978 when Deng took the wheel, Shenzhen was a sleepy little fishing village of thirty thousand people whose only interesting feature was that it was right next to Hong Kong. This made it perfect for the early-80s experiments in capitalism, and over the next four decades it exploded (it now has 12 million people and a standard of living on par with Western Europe). As a result of its early rise to wealth and power, it’s home to the first private school in China, founded 1994. However, private schools in China tend to be boarding schools, and boarding schools tend to be out away from the city center where land is cheap and distractions are relatively few.

So this place is in the middle of nowhere, or as close to the middle of nowhere as it’s possible to get in the Pearl River Delta. It’s surrounded by forested mountains (Guangdong is surprisingly hilly). It’s about 95 (35) degrees, humid as hell, and in direct sunlight--July, south of the Tropic of Cancer. We’re in the kids’ dorm rooms (luckily we each get our own private dorm room with a private, cold-running shower.) We drop our bags, wash up, and go meet the kids.

And it turns out that a fifth of them are Americans! You see, this wasn’t just a programming camp--it was also an English and cross-cultural experience camp. Approximately 15 high-school kids from Florida and California were being flown out, all expenses paid, to be big-brother/big-sister with the Chinese kids, who were in late elementary school. The chaperone (we’ll call her Margaret; in fact I can’t actually remember her name, but it definitely wasn’t Margaret), the mother of one of the kids, was thoroughly perplexed--but, hey, a free trip to China.

So Nick and I go and look at the teaching rooms (this is about one in the afternoon). These aren’t the sparkling, spacious computer labs we saw on the website, oh no. We have a couple of primary school classrooms no more than about five meters by six, with laughably tiny kindergartner-sized chairs and tables. There’s a smartboard, which we can barely get to run and which we can’t connect to our computers to show the programs the kids are supposed to run. There’s no free access to the wifi. Instead, we have to get our teaching assistants to put their login credentials on every single device that needs to connect to the wifi--and since you have to have wifi to connect to the robots, well. In other words, it’s going to be a s***show, and we’ve got five mornings of it ahead of us.

We know the inevitable talk/confrontation with our boss/program coordinator is going to be a disaster, so we leave for a few hours to try and find a six-pack of Tsingtao. Remember how I said this was in the middle of nowhere? It was in the middle of nowhere. We walk out of the gates for a full kilometer (possibly more; the road meandered, and the terrain was by no means flat) past construction sites and dense forest bordering on jungle until we finally, finally reach an air-conditioned convenience store nestled between auto-repair shops, low-rise tile-walled tenements, light industry and eight-kuai noodle parlors. (Those of you who have been outside of a major city center in China will know the kind of neighborhood I’m talking about--not dangerous, by any means (except for the traffic), but boring, sprawling and not overly prosperous.) But they have beer, and we knock back two each along with a good liter of water.

We have a chat with the supervisor at about 9 o’clock that evening while the kids are engaging in...god, I don’t even recall. I think the Chinese kids were in bed, while the Americans were playing cards and vidya. Now readers who have spent much time in China or with Chinese organizations will know that it is a faux pas in China to admit fault, and an even bigger faux pas to play hardball to get somebody to admit fault. The result, usually, is deflection--our supervisor didn’t know about any of this, it wasn’t her fault, she would ask her boss to try and improve things.

(I don’t wish to come across as too hard on Chinese culture here. I think this is really a situation where American and Chinese culture are doomed to clash, and clash badly. If you fuck up in the US, you’re supposed to admit fault and apologize, at least theoretically--deflection and white lies are infuriating on the receiving end and the natural reaction is to start tearing them apart to get an admission of contrition. In China, the convention is often that you tell a white lie or deflect to save face--and if the other person you’re talking to is Chinese, they’ll often accept that even if it’s not really believed. The result in Chinese-American communication can be an arms race, where the American will get ticked off at the deflection and perceived dishonesty and start playing hardball, which prompts more deflection. Looking back on it now, it was clear that trying to play hardball with our supervisor was pointless--we were never going to get good computer labs or WiFi, and the only thing to do was to figure out something to do. But knowing that we’d at least theoretically been hired to teach programming, we endeavoured to do our best. (Remember, between flying all the Americans over and the company’s profit, the Chinese parents were getting fleeced.) Nick had recently discovered the stern precepts of Jordan Peterson after catching herpes-type-2 (that’s the bad kind) of the mouth from a liaison with his dermatologist, and reminded me that it was our duty to do the best we could by the students.

Day one: Monday.

There are about 70-75 kids in the program between the Chinese and the Americans, so we have about 35 each at least in classrooms of about fifteen square meters, sitting on tiny little kindergarten chairs at tiny little kindergarten desks (not so much of a problem for the Chinese elementary-schoolers, much more uncomfortable for the American high-schoolers). Our teaching assistants spend most of their time in the back playing on their phones after they’ve set the WiFi on each device, which takes about an hour to get worked out. (Remember, three-hour class with a fifteen-minute break). Each room has an underpowered air conditioner which succeeds in reducing the temperature from the mid-30s C to the upper 20s (from about 92 to 78 in freedom degrees) if the windows are closed, at the cost of any breezes.

And we run into the first problem. Your device uses WiFi to connect automatically and effortlessly to a nearby Pocketbot. That’s not a problem when you’re in a spacious computer lab with ten other people and a strong signal. When you’re in a tiny little room with thirty-five other people and a network that wouldn’t have been out of place in the last years of the Clinton administration, well. 

Some kids couldn’t connect to their bot at all. Others were controlling four robots at once with a single device. Some were able to stay connected through the session, others’ internet kept crapping out every ten minutes.

After an hour and twenty minutes of this, we call a twenty-minute break.

easternestablishmentarian: “What the fuck do we even do?”

Nick: “No idea. Start in on the basic ideas of programming. Have the teaching assistants translate.”

We do. The teaching assistants are not all that happy about having to play translator, particularly since their English isn’t very good and the concepts are, well, complicated! I had some success in doing the teacher-as-robot routine you see in intro programming classes, where you have to tell the teacher exactly what to do (Keep going! *teacher-bot crashes into wall*), and extended this up to about half past eleven by making it a group activity where the Chinese kids had to direct their American big-sibling robots around the room. We spent about another fifteen minutes trying to do something, anything, with the robots--remember, we couldn’t show our laptop screens on the smartboard, which didn’t work, so we had to draw the program with chalk. At about 11:45 we just call it quits and let them leave for lunch early.

Right after lunch (which, incidentally, was extremely strange--the cafeteria staff had been instructed to try to make some sort of Chinese-Western fusion, with results like spaghetti with both tomato and soy sauce. If only they’d just stuck to good local dishes, of which there are hundreds, but oh well...) we call an emergency meeting with Margaret.

Margaret: You guys aren’t going to bail on us, are you? I have no clue what’s going on.

Me: No, but it’s clear that there’s no way to do programming and the kids’ll hate it. Let’s just do a regular summer camp.

Later that day we go back out for more beer and sketch out a plan. We don’t have WiFi or devices worth a damn, so electronics are off. However, we do have a campus of at least twenty or thirty acres filled with small fields and six-story dorms and classrooms connected by a labyrinth of walkways. (During the school year, the school is home to about three thousand students, all boarding, so it’s the size of a couple city blocks at least.)

We call a meeting with our supervisor.

Nick: This isn’t working. We can’t do programming.

Supervisor: Well, do you have any other ideas?

Nick: We could do sports and games.

Supervisor: Oh, I think that will be wonderful!

(Nick, later: “How much are these parents paying again?”)

Day two: Tuesday.

We start with Sardines, which degenerates into chaotic hide-and-seek but keeps them occupied for a good hour and a half. The teaching assistants are sent to look for athletic equipment like basketballs, which they’re not too happy about. Midway through break we run out of cups.

Us: “It’s 35 degrees outside and we don’t have enough water. There are only two water dispensers for 80 people and no more cups.”

Teaching assistant: “Oh, well, we didn’t know we would run out. I don’t know where the water is, maybe they can bring some tomorrow.”

Us: *sigh*

We discover that some air-conditioned buses (dlory! dlory! hallelujah!) stop right in front of the school and run towards a major commercial center. We go out for hotpot.

Nick: “So, fun fact--I’m actually on a spousal visa. I married a local chick for visa purposes.”

Me: “Huh.”

Nick: “Yeah, we divorced, but the immigration department doesn’t have access to divorce records and my visas’s still valid. Can’t technically work on it, though.”

Day three: Wednesday.

Capture the Flag, followed by semi-structured time in which the Americans are divided into groups, assigned Chinese students, and instructed to create activities. We run out of cups again.

Nick: *drinking straight from the water dispenser tap*

Me: “Didn’t you say you caught...”

Nick: “Shut up, easternestablishmentarian.”

Me: “...”

Me: “There are seventy-five kids here.”

Nick: “Just shut up.”

I buy my own personal supply of bottled water that afternoon. He did agree to only fill up a bottle from that point onwards.

Us: “Supervisor, please tell us--will there be WiFi when one of us teaches programming with the robots in Lu’an in Anhui?”

Supervisor: “Oh, uh, I don’t know, I am not going to Anhui.”

Us: “Please find out.”

Day four: Thursday. 

It being sunny and slightly cooler, we take the kids on a hike through a back trail that goes by a farm and into the woods. Guangdong proves to be home to some terrifyingly large arthropods, none of which are aggressive.

After lunch, we debate who will go on to Lu’an. Nick makes a good case for needing the money, so I cede it (in part because Anhui is a notoriously boring and underdeveloped province, and Lu’an is only its second- or third-biggest city).

Us: “So, supervisor, please tell us.”

Supervisor: “Oh, yes, there is no WiFi for the summer camp in Anhui, I asked.”

Us: “But Nick’s going to be teaching robots again?”

Supervisor: “Well, maybe he can also teach something else, like English, but yes, it’s a robot camp.”

Us: “But you need WiFi to work with the robots.”

Supervisor: “Oh, I’m not the supervisor in Anhui, just here in Shenzhen, so I didn’t know.”

Day five: Friday.

After a laughably pointless closing ceremony, we collect our paychecks (in cash) and head into Shenzhen, where Nick tries to send it out. 

Bank teller: “So, uh, what are you doing in China?”

Nick: “I’m visiting family, it’s a spousal visa.”

Bank teller: “OK, so I don’t think this is possible, you have the tax form?” (note: this is quite common for foreigners, even those on legal visas--foreigners’ money has all sorts of systems and regulations surrounding it that most bank tellers don’t know how to handle (because there are so few foreigners), and to avoid losing face they will often just tell you that it’s not possible to do what you want to do.)

At this point, I’m starting to shake my head furiously in Nick’s direction--get us out of here before they start asking questions about where this money came from and call immigration. After two hours, we give up.

Me: “You could have gotten us deported.”

Nick: “Nah, man, they’re just clueless bank tellers.”

I fly back to Chengdu the following day seven thousand kuai richer, while Nick hangs on until Sunday and then flies to Lu’an with the Americans, where another group of Chinese kids get their parents fleeced for robots that don’t work (though, as he told it, things worked out fine, kind of.) The kids, incidentally, were great about the whole incident--the Chinese kids I think in part because their lives are so structured that just getting to run around was a breath of fresh air for them. The Americans were fairly willing to work around the absurdity. Nobody got deported and nothing’s appeared in the news about an epidemic of the sort of disease that schoolchildren aren’t supposed to get.

So we come to the moral of the story, children: all’s well that ends well, and buy your own water.

[thesffcorner]

Split

Split is a horror/thriller written and directed by M Night Shyamalan. It takes place in the same universe as Unbreakable, and follows Casey (Anya Taylor Joy), a teenage girl who gets kidnapped along with two other classmates. She wakes up in a room, and soon the girls find out that their captor might be even more dangerous and crazy than he first appeared.

I’m in a precarious position with this film; I hadn’t seen it when it came out, and now, years later, knowing what the main twist is, and having seen the trailer for the sequel Glass, many of the things in this film fell flat for me. Twists and turns that should’ve been shocking left no impact because I already knew exactly what was happening. This isn’t to say that I didn’t like anything about this film, or that my problems with it were only because I knew the premise and outcome, but I would be lying if I didn’t say that it significantly diminished my enjoyment.

So seeing as I’m about to see Glass in a few days, let’s go over some of the things that worked and didn’t about Split; warning, there will be SPOILERS.

Kevin (and the other 23):

The main drive to see this film from the very first trailers and marketing was James McAvoy, who plays Kevin, and 23 other personalities all trapped in his body. Now, what this film does, is it takes the idea of multiple personality disorder, and takes to a whole new level, where not only are all these different personalities completely unrelated to Kevin, but they are entirely different people. When someone ‘takes the light’ (controls Kevin’s body) their appearance doesn’t change, but their physical abilities do; some of them have diabetes, some have OCD, some are female, some are physically very strong, and some have the strength of a child.

This is all explained to us through the character of Dr Fletcher, Kevin’s psychiatrist who specializes in treating patients who have this disorder called DID.

Now, for the film, this is both a virtue, and a flaw. Because this McAvoy was the focus of the marketing, the scene where the girls realize Patricia and Dennis are not two different people, is meant to be terrifying and confusing; it’s shot and presented like a revelation, a shocking twist. But it isn’t; we already know Kevin has multiple personalities because the trailer and the marketing told us so!

Additionally, why does Kevin have 23 personalities? We never see more than 5 max, and even still we only really follow 4: Dennis, Patricia, Hedwig and the Beast. We get a glimpse here and there of  4 other personalities, but that’s about it. The film could have easily been about 5 personalities instead of 23, but I guess 23 sounds more impressive even if we never see the majority of them.

The 4 characters we do see were all interesting and engaging. I give major props to McAvoy; he nails this part. They all have distinct personalities, mannerisms patterns of speech and even move differently based on the character. I was afraid he would overreact a lot of the scenes, but he is surprisingly subdued, and is a major factor into the film’s creepiness and atmosphere.

Dennis is the ring leader and he has OCD, and is a germaphobe. It’s also implied that he may have pedophilic tendencies, though I wasn’t clear on whether those were his or Barry’s or even Kevin’s. He was by far the most proactive of the personalities and the creepiest; I liked that his germophobia and OCD were products of Kevin’s childhood trauma (since his mother used to beat him if he’d make a mess), and I really enjoyed his increasingly unhinged attempts to convince Dr Fletcher that he was Barry.

His interactions with the girls were also creepy, and there was a prevailing sexual threat in all of his scenes with them which was incredibly unsettling.

Patricia was who the film builds as the ringleader of the Horde, while Dennis was the muscle. She reigns Dennis in, and seems to be the one who came up with the story of the Beast. It’s difficult to tell if the Beast’s sick moral code and dogma come from her and Dennis twisting Dr Fletcher’s speeches on DID patients, or if she accepted them from the Beast himself. She too gets a standout scene where she makes sandwiches and it’s pretty effective. 

Hedwig was the character I liked most, and I can’t believe I’m saying that watching James McAvoy pretend he’s a 9 year old with a lisp was the best part of this film. Gain, McAvoy is rather convincing in the part of a 9 year old boy trapped in a grown adult’s body, coloring all the scenes between him and Cassey in a layer of yikes, especially the scene where he asks to kiss her. But he’s also genuinely funny and gets the best dialogue and scenes in the film, and I enjoyed every time he was on screen.

The Beast:

Now, the Beast is somewhat of a twist in the film, in that he’s not one of the 23 personalities, and many of them (including Dr Fletcher) don’t even believe he exists. Turns out he does exist and he was born on the train on which Kevin’s father escaped from Kevin. I found him being an amalgamation of a bunch of the animals from the zoo where Dennis works clever, like his powers being having skin like a rhino’s hide, strength of a lion, and the agility of a monkey. I liked that he goes after the two girls specifically because of an incident that happened to Dennis, where two teenage girls pranked him. I even liked again, how his philosophy about taking over the world and getting it rid of weak people, people who are not ‘broken’ was really a twisted version of Dr Fletcher’s speech about how through trauma DID patients become more than human.

What I didn’t like was, well… look his powers are fucking stupid alright? He eats people. He is a human man who eats raw flesh and hasn’t died yet. Like… maybe I can suspend my disbelief that one of the personalities has diabetes, and maybe even that the Beast can somehow survive getting shot point blank in the chest, but this whole eating people thing was just so dumb! And the whole debate of who is broken and worthy and who is weak and unworthy was also so dumb. He also doesn’t have any character arc or even a conclusion. It’s just the Beast wants to eat people, and in the end he eats people. The end. There is no climax to his story, no revelation or realization, it’s just he can eat more people now. Great.

Useless Characters With 0 Agency:

I will own up to the fact that I’m not a huge fan of kidnapping plots, and 90% of that is because I hate that no matter how many times the person who gets kidnapped tries to escape, they inevitably must fail, so that whoever does the rescuing can save them at the end. I thought this case might be different, since Casey is, at first, presented like a fairly competent character, and I thought, maybe, she could escape. But boy oh boy was Casey a plank of wood.

First, I understand why she would be having trouble at school and connecting to other peers because of he backstory, but why she was so needlessly rude, mean and uncooperative with the other two girls that are captured was beyond me. The girls are perfectly nice and kind to her, they want her to escape with them, and in a way they are right; three of them, vs one of Dennis is still better odds, no matter how ‘strong’ Dennis might be.

Then there is the fact that she does nothing for over 90% of the film. She attempts to escape once, and even then she doesn’t really; she steals Hedwig’s walkie talkie, and I can’t tell if it’s Joy’s acting or Shyamalan's direction, but he reaction at having her last hope of escape snatched away from her was nowhere near appropriate enough. She spends most of the film being extremely subdued and confused, and even in the very last section, where she does actually take the shotgun, nothing she does is even remotely effective against the Beast.

Also who TF decides running into a cage and locking themselves in, with only 2 rounds of a shotgun is A SMART IDEA? ESPECIALLY SOMEONE WHO’S BEEN HUNTING HER WHOLE LIFE?

Her backstory was genuinely upsetting and creepy and I hated all of those scenes, but they were effective and achieved exactly what they needed to to set up her character. What I didn’t like or get, was Cassey’s ending. She never confronts her uncle; we never even see him after the last flashback and I guess maybe you could argue that it’s implied that Cassey would tell the police officer what he’s been doing to her, but that’s such a stretch and unnecessarily vague ending that I don’t know why it was there.

Like Kevin and the Beast, Cassey has no character arc. She wasn’t vain or shallow or ‘had felt no pain’ like the other 2 girls; there was no character flaw she needed to overcome. If anything, her character flaw seemed to be that she was passive, but she doesn’t learn not to be by the end; she is exactly the same at the end as she was at the start, except slightly more traumatized.

The other two girls are non-entities. I don’t understand why the film bothers to introduce them only to have them disappear a third way in, I didn’t like that the film punished their attempts to escape and be proactive for no reason and I didn’t like the message. Neither one of those girls were mean or catty or vain; they were regular teenagers. Claire invites Cassey to the birthday party even though she shows no interest to be there, she tries to get her to join them against Dennis, they are never rude to her? If you wanted the audience to hate them, you need to actually give us reasons to hate them; like this it just seems like the film agrees with the Beast that teenage girls are really horrible, just for existing!

I also really hated the wasted time of showing Marcia trying to open the locker with the hanger. Why linger on that scene for so long if you won’t even show us the outcome? We just see she’s dead in the next scene and that’s it. That part genuinely made me angry, because the film had been so good at representing women up until that point, and it was such a disappointment.

Dr Fletcher was probably the worst part. She spends the movie telling us about Kevin’s condition, and talking to Dennis. She realizes quickly something is wrong, realizes that there is something dangerous about Dennis and the fact that he won’t let her talk to any of the other characters, realizes that the Beast is likewise a dangerous thought and does have the good sense to go to the Zoo and seek Dennis out. BUT she’s also dumb enough not to let anyone know she’s going, she doesn’t immediately call the police after Dennis gives her a speech every serial killer would think is a bit much, and doesn’t take any precautions to make sure she’s not followed when she finds Cassey and STILL TRIES TO REASON WITH DENNIS EVEN AFTER SHE SEES WHAT IS HAPPENING! She was a completely useless character; she’s only there for exposition and that’s entirely it.

Pacing:

The very last thing I want to touch on is the pacing. Shyamalan is known for very slow films; he likes lots of slow tracking shots, he lets the camera linger on scenes that could easily be cut, he likes his long establishing shot, awkward pauses in dialogue, etc. These are all stylistic choices; you can argue about their merit, but at the end of the day, if you’ve seen one of his films and didn’t like how slow it is, you won’t like any of them. My issue is that a lot of this film could have used some editing. I already mentioned how the entire subplot with Marcia and Claire is at once superfluous and doesn’t need to take up that much time considering its conclusion, as well ass Dr Fletcher having a lot of circular dialogue scenes in which she just explains DID over and over again. The pacing was glacial; I genuinely think that some quicker cuts and scenes would have benefited it so much, and maybe another draft of the screenplay, tightening up the story and giving the characters actual arcs and conclusions.

Conclusion:

It’s fine. Honestly, I didn’t care much for it, but it wasn't a bad film. There is a lot good in it, but the some of its parts isn’t stronger than some individual scenes and James McAvoy’s acting. I will still watch Glass and I do think you should check it out if it sounds at all interesting; just don’t expect a masterpiece.