From Princess to General

Because I am perpetually behind the times, I have not yet seen Wonder Woman, the first big-screen adaptation of Diana Prince's story. However, the Internet has been awash with discussions of the film and its constituents, from forebears to alternate screenplays, and I've seen enough at this point that I want to highlight one recurring meme in particular:

This is honestly one of my favorite things I've ever seen online. Up top, you have Robin Wright, who first came to prominence as Princess Buttercup in the film adaptation of The Princess Bride and has most recently portrayed Diana's mother Hippolyta in Wonder Woman. Below, of course, we see the late Carrie Fisher, first as the young Princess Leia in A New Hope and then--almost 40 years later--as General Organa in The Force Awakens.

The reason I love it so much is because it encapsulates a mighty shift in our culture. Have we had badass women on screen in the past? Absolutely! From Buffy to Xena to Sydney Bristow to The Bride, and even Leia herself, there are plenty of worthy examples, and I'm happy to give credit where it's due. The difference, in this case, largely revolves around one word: princess.

Having grown up during the Disney Renaissance, and being the aunt of a little girl, I am perhaps alarmingly well-versed in the language of fictional princesses. Don't get me wrong: I was, and remain, a huge fan of Disney, but as an adult, I do recognize the indoctrination I endured. (As a side note, Disney now owns the Star Wars properties, which--in a very technical sense--means that Leia has joined the ranks of Ariel, Aurora, and Anna, as many others have pointed out in the past.)

The dilemma is that we females have spent large swaths of our lives being told that girls are "sugar, spice, and everything nice," that we should be "ladylike," that we need to find our lives searching for our own personal Prince Charming. It's pretty problematic when you consider it, because we live in a society that has ostensibly progressed but often seems to backslide badly.

So when I see images of Hippolyta in action and General Organa working hard to ensure the safety of those around her, I get a little giddy. As I said in a Facebook post just after Fisher's death last December: yes, I love the princess who sasses Darth Vader, keeps herself together even after watching her planet destroyed, infiltrates Jabba's palace, and all that. But I love General Organa more, because she is the end product of all those things followed by 30 more years of hard work and dedication. In other words, General Organa is what daring girls all over the world have the capacity to become if they persevere.

The problem is, our society tends to squash those sparks of personality and ambition, so it is extremely important that we continue to give girls (and boys) good, strong female role models in our media. It lets girls know that the line they're fed about having the capacity to be whatever they want when they grow up isn't just bullshit--even though it feels like that some days, given the typical images with which we are all bombarded on a daily basis.

And I hope, also, that the women out there who think they "don't need feminism" are waking up a little through this journey with two lovely princesses turned generals. It would be fantastic to know that children aren't the only ones affected by more positive portrayals of strong women whose power doesn't stem from their royalty but through the battles they wage to keep others safe and equal (equal being the operative word).

-Cate-

Images via here, here, here, and here.

Spot the Difference

When I finished my undergraduate degree, a professor of mine gave me a copy of Lorine Niedecker's Collected Works. Years later, knowing that I am no fan of Emily Dickinson's but that Niedecker's work is influenced by and at times strongly resembles Dickinson's, that same professor asked me if I had disliked Collected as a result. It was an interesting--and valid--inquiry, one that I was able to answer truthfully by saying that I in fact found that I enjoyed Niedecker's work.

Having recently come across the volume in question, I wondered what it was, exactly, that attracted me in Niedecker's poems but repelled me in Dickinson's, and I think the most honest response is that there isn't necessarily a strong set of criteria. Sometimes, it's just a gut feeling that you have.

Here's another example. I love Quentin Tarantino's oeuvre, and my experiences with him began in high school prior to the release of Kill Bill, which was the first Tarantino film I saw in real time rather than on DVD or (gasp) video. But when Inglourious Basterds came along, I hated it with a force that surprised me. To this day, I cannot fully articulate what made me dislike it so much. The acting was superb. The editing was impeccable (RIP Sally Menke). The production values were unimpeachable. Yet there it was: I couldn't stand the thought of a repeat viewing. When Django Unchained premiered, I worried that perhaps I had lost my connection with Tarantino's craftsmanship and would despise it as well, but I was pleasantly surprised when Django proved to be at turns hilarious, haunting, and heroic. 

What, then, was the difference between Basterds and Django? I can't even say. The former simply felt wrong to me, just as Dickinson's poems always have. 

The reading, listening, and viewing experiences are, for the most part, deeply subjective. This is the easiest way to explain my quandary. Yet I continue to find myself shocked when people I meet profess their undying love for Emily Dickinson. What is the difference between us? It's nothing more than a matter of personal preference.

-Cate-

The Limits of Nostalgia

In the past year or so, there has been a rash of pop-culture nostalgia infiltrating our screens--both large and small. Four examples that come to mind quickly are Ghostbusters, Girl Meets World, Fuller House, and the Star Wars franchise (which is, admittedly, more of a perpetual thing). Although we have yet to see what Paul Feig will make of his all-female Ghostbusters reboot, there have been mixed responses to the other examples given here.

Anecdata seems to indicate that Girl Meets World is a hit among fans of its (literal) parent show, Boy Meets World, which ran from 1993-2000, and reviews from the series pilot reflect this, even if the viewers ache for the original series. The Force Awakens is widely beloved, with a 93% fresh rating from Rotten Tomatoes, and is approaching the billion-dollar mark in gross profit. Fuller House, meanwhile, is a different story.

Initial reactions have not been positive. CNN refers to it as a show that "recaptures the magic of the original" (Full House, 1987-1995) "if you remember that Voldemort practiced magic, too." Entertainment Weekly, meanwhile, gives it a C-minus, calling it "lazily constructed kitsch." 

What is the difference between these projects? What makes one piece of our pop-culture history ripe for reworking but another fail miserably? Maybe the people involved. Maybe the premise. Maybe the expectations of the fans. Or perhaps it's that we have hit the point where we are saturated with nostalgia. From the odd '90s fangirling on Tumblr to the woman who lives as though she's in the Victorian era, we as consumers find ourselves inundated with images from the past, and it's easy to get fed up with revisiting past events and phenomena. 

So remember this next time you start to consume this particular brand of entertainment. If it doesn't feel right to you, it means the project has hit a nostalgia wall and it's time to move into the present, or perhaps even the future.

-Cate-

Alan Rickman

If I delayed my Scott Weiland post out of laziness and my David Bowie post out of scheduling conflicts, then I delayed my Alan Rickman post out of sheer denial, but here it is.

Not only was he Hans Gruber, Colonel Brandon, and Severus Snape. He was this deeply intense presence, one with a voice made to be heard and a head made to be tilted just so. He was the kind of actor who made you want to view his performances again and again for the sheer pleasure of discovering each nuance you hadn't noticed before, and if his Harry Potter cast mates are to be believed, he was a genuine, caring man off screen and off stage.

The world has lost what we hoped was an inexhaustible source of creative generosity, and not just because we loved Snape (Snape, Severus Snape): because Rickman touched something inside all of us, whether we expected him to or not; he was just that great.

-Cate-

Let's Go to the Movies, Part 3: "Amok, Amok, Amok"

Unfortunately, I’m unable to attend my beloved Popular Culture Association in the South conference this year; being laid off has had the paradoxical effect of giving me plenty of time to think up paper/presentation topics but no income to share that work, but such is life. Since there have been a few ideas bouncing around in my head--midnight breakthroughs, all--I’m going to share them with you. I’ve written with the assumption that my audience is familiar with the films I’ll be discussing, so consider this a pre-emptive spoiler alert. Read on!

For Part 1, click here. For Part 2, click here.

*** 

Halloween is two days away, so I thought I would take the opportunity to talk about my all-time favorite Halloween movie: Hocus Pocus.

As my father put it to me a couple of weeks back, "Bette Middler had a good career. But then she made Hocus Pocus and had a LEGACY." This is perhaps the most accurate thing my father has ever said. Because everyone who was raised on this film now has a shared cultural touchstone on October 31st, no matter how costume, candy, or decorating trends have changed throughout the years. (If you've never seen it, you've clearly been living at the bottom of the ocean since 1993, and I feel bad for you.) It's the Halloween equivalent of A Charlie Brown Christmas. And I, for one, could not be more grateful.

Hocus Pocus was probably the movie that sparked my love of Halloween. Well, that, and the fact that people hand out bags of Better Made chips when you go trick-or-treating in southeastern Michigan. It's extraordinarily perfect: extravagant costumes, jokes that speak to children as well as adults, Sarah Jessica Parker's spot-on ditzy display, and a show-stopping musical number in the middle of the action. You know the one I'm talking about:

Sure, it's a far cry from Screamin' Jay Hawkins' "I Put a Spell on You," but hey--this is a family film. (One in which Disney decided it would be okay to show Garry Marshall and his sister Penny as spouses, but that's a minor detail.)

And let's talk about Thora Birch for a minute. She was ten or eleven when Hocus Pocus was made--years before she made a splash in American Beauty. Not only does she make the perfect little sister opposite Omri Katz, but she's able to hold her own against Middler, Parker, and Kathy Najimy. Besides, her name is Thora, and that makes her awesome.

Oh, and here's a thing that will blow your mind: Kenny Ortega, the director of Hocus Pocus, is also a well-known choreographer who has spent a good deal of time working with other music legends like Madonna and Cher. Who knew someone could be responsible for such large chunks of our shared popular culture experience (he also directed Newsies and the three High School Musical movies)?

If you ever get homesick for childhood outside of the Halloween season, by the way, just go watch some NCIS; Sean Murray, who played the cat on whom so many girls had a weird, inappropriate crush, is now McGee on the long-running CBS drama (even though someone dubbed his speech in Hocus Pocus, I still give credit to Murray).

-Cate-

Thora Birch image via here.

Let's Go to the Movies, Part 2: Grease Is the (Misguided) Word

Unfortunately, I’m unable to attend my beloved Popular Culture Association in the South conference this year; being laid off has had the paradoxical effect of giving me plenty of time to think up paper/presentation topics but no income to share that work, but such is life. Since there have been a few ideas bouncing around in my head--midnight breakthroughs, all--I’m going to share them with you. I’ve written with the assumption that my audience is familiar with the films I’ll be discussing, so consider this a pre-emptive spoiler alert. Read on!

For Part 1, click here. And come back next week for the conclusion!

***

As I move closer to self-actualization, I realize that it’s worth reexamining things from my adolescence that may have taught me something. For example, the musical Grease. When I was in 6th grade, Grease was the pinnacle of awesome, even though we were 20 years out from its initial run in theaters. I remember seeing it in the theater with my grandmother when it was rereleased, and that was some exciting shit for me.

 

Now, however, 15+ years later, I realize that Grease is a terrible movie to watch when you’re 12. Yes, it delves--shallowly--into the consequences of unprotected sex (thanks for the lesson on condom usage, Rizzo!). And yes, it--superficially--explores inter- and intra-high-school rivalry. But it also teaches you several undesirable things:

1) Breaking into song and dance on the bleachers will never lead to bodily harm.

2) It’s okay to make fun of the new girl when she’s in the next room just because she lives a different (read: more prudish) life than you.

3) Defying authority figures is a worthy pastime.

4) Frankie Avalon can--and will--call you a loser and tell you to get a job as a secretary if he thinks you’re not up to snuff.

5) Drag racing is a fantastic way to resolve disputes.

6) In order to snag your man, it is necessary to change your entire being, such as when Sandy goes from her long skirts and white blouses to second skin-type leather pants and cigarettes to prove herself worthy of Danny.

I’m not saying that movies have to provide us with lessons about morality or that everything has to be perfect in cinematic or real life. My favorite film, after all, is Pulp Fiction. But when we make things (books, cinema, music) aimed at young people, I think we do have a responsibility to supply them with better role models and more meaningful discourse--especially in this age of media saturation. Should it all be Mr. Rogers-level cheerful? Of course not. But nor should it be vapid or devoid of any guidance. 

  

I wouldn’t trade my memories of loving--and singing along to--Grease for the world. And, being who I am, I think I was able to separate the story from my reality. Unfortunately, that may not be true of everyone in the audience.

However, I will give credit where it’s due: for all its faults, Grease captures what it is (still) like to be a teenager: the urgency you feel when the person you like is nearby, the fun times had with friends on a Friday night, the uncertainty of senior year. And that’s some pretty powerful stuff.

-Cate-

Images via here and here.

Let's Go to the Movies, Part 1: Tale As Old As Time?

Unfortunately, I’m unable to attend my beloved Popular Culture Association in the South conference this year; being laid off has had the paradoxical effect of giving me plenty of time to think up paper/presentation topics but no income to share that work, but such is life. Since there have been a few ideas bouncing around in my head--midnight breakthroughs, all--I’m going to share them with you. I’ve written with the assumption that my audience is familiar with the films I’ll be discussing, so consider this a pre-emptive spoiler alert. Read on!

For Part 2, return next Wednesday. For Part 3, return the Wednesday after that.

***

While Beauty and the Beast isn’t my favorite Disney movie, it IS my mother’s, so I’ve seen it many times, and I do appreciate the hell out of it for several reasons. If ever an animated film deserved to be nominated for Best Picture, this was the one (it lost to The Silence of the Lambs), and it should have stayed that way, except the AMPAS made some changes a few years back that allowed for more leeway when it came to animated films breaking into that category. But I digress.

 

In addition to admiring the artistry of the film (those stained-glass windows! the special effects! that ballroom!), I feel it’s one of the better “princess” movies, thanks in large part to Belle’s spirit, personality, and moral code. For example, has anyone else ever noticed that she is willing to sacrifice herself on at least two occasions in order to save her father?

First she rides into the forest with Philippe and trespasses in the Beast’s castle to find Maurice. Once there, she cuts a deal with the Beast, offering herself up in exchange for her father’s freedom, in spite of his protests. Later in the movie, she leaves the castle--admittedly, with the Beast’s blessing--to help Maurice, who has fallen ill. This is one dedicated daughter.

Yet, in defiance of the expectations of her time, she refuses to sacrifice herself for the other men in her life. From the outset, we know she doesn’t give a fig what the townspeople say about her; ain’t nobody got time for that, in her opinion. She chooses instead to pursue her own passion--reading--to the exclusion of much else, including, importantly, the overtures Gaston makes. She knows he’s borderline illiterate and will force her to change if she enters into a relationship with him; this would be unacceptable to her, so she rebuffs him.

Near the climax, when Gaston informs Belle that she can marry him in order to buy her father’s freedom, she is disgusted by the notion in a way she was not by the prospect of living in the Beast’s castle, because she knows there must be a way to save Maurice that doesn’t involve compromising her own standards.

While this does parallel her situation with the Beast, Belle doesn’t feel forced to trade places with Maurice in the castle; rather, she makes her own, conscious decision (which tracks with Belle’s actions in the Beaumont version of the fairy tale). If she allows Gaston to coerce her into marriage, neither she nor her father can live with the consequences, because even though it’s never said, only intimated, we know Gaston is the type of man who would beat his wife into submission without hesitation.

Moreover, we know Belle continues to adhere to her strong moral code even once she realizes she and the Beast are falling in love; rather than stay at the castle with him and various enchanted housewares, she continues her tradition of aiding Maurice, as discussed above. In Belle’s case, the old cliché is true: blood is thicker than water.

And this is a good set of lessons for children to learn, I think:

1) Do not degrade yourself by letting a bully win.

2) Make efforts to preserve your autonomy and personality.

3) Family is there for you and you should be there for them, too (assuming that there isn’t any dangerous dysfunction at work).

4) Choosing a boy/girl/significant other over your own interests or those of the people closest to you is detrimental to you and your dearest.

  

Bonus lesson: it’s okay to be a bookish lady, because some people will appreciate your nerdiness, and not just the bookshop owner (although, can we be friends with that guy? He gives out free books!).

-Cate-

Images via here, here, and here.