#also II shushing the audience

[bubacorn]

(x)

[illneverrecover]

Take Me to Church (M) | JJK

➛pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

➛genre: gang!AU, tattooed!Jungkook, smut, fluff.

➛word count: 5,114

➛rating: M 

➛warnings: sub/switch Jungkook, power play, praise, body worship, face sitting, oral sex (both giving and receiving), dirty talk, profanity, mentions of weeb JK, unprotected sex, riding, slight cock warming mentions, JK is a soft sweet boy.

➛summary: You can always tell when something is bothering your boyfriend, despite how hard he tries to hide it - and you have creative ways to get him to talk. 

➛notes: MY FIRST EVER COMMISSION! As soon as I mentioned opening commissions, my cherub friends jumped at the chance and sent in several requests, @quinnkoo​ being the first. She asked for sweet soft switchy tattooed Jungkook smut with some power play, and I immediately thought back to the Gang!AU drabble I wrote her last year, and decided to play off of that. It’s not necessary to read that one first, but it’ll give some more back story if you’re curious. Thank you so much, Quinny. I hope you enjoy 🖤

➛song: Church - Fall Out Boy & My Time - BTS  

“Ugh! I’m sick of all this rambling. When’s Kakashi going to come back?” you sigh, head plopping onto your boyfriend's shoulder. You waited a few breaths for his teasing reply - he couldn’t help but to drag you after you revealed your favorite character and your totally normal crush on him - but when it didn’t come, your brow furrowed. 

He had insisted on the marathon of his favorite anime, eyes lighting with childlike glee as he explained the premise, but he had been noticeably quiet the last few episodes.

Something was up.

A wayward glance at Jungkook told you that your suspicions were right; his wide rich amber eyes were facing the screen, but the light behind them was absent. He was chewing his bottom lip, large front teeth poking out every few seconds, the hand not wrapped around you rubbing at one of the tattoos on his forearm. All the telltale signs that something was Bothering Jeon Jungkook™.

It didn’t take long for you to know what was on his mind. Reading him had been something you excelled at since day one, his body an open book that you have delved so deep inside you knew him better than you knew yourself. 

On the outside, Jungkook was the embodiment of the word ‘tough’, which would be fitting of a member of his stature. He was part of the well renowned gang Bangtan, something you had known since the first meeting, and he looked the part - typically dressed in all black, clothes baggy and yet somehow still flattering his lean muscles, ink decorating his arms and neck. A single hoop hung from his nose, messy dark hair hanging low in his eyes - and with one look, it had been over for you. 

But that was only one facet to Jungkook.

On the inside, he was marshmallow, soft and gooey and tooth rotting sweet. The type of man who believes in soulmates, who coos at kittens in store windows, who teared up while watching Frozen II (with an adamant cry of, “babe, Olaf is GONE” when you asked if he was alright). He is so thoughtful, always worrying about everyone else - his brothers, his family, you - before himself. A pure heart of gold wrapped in a deliciously decorated package.

Which is why you knew he was still thinking about what happened the day prior.

It had been such a silly thing, something that you had mentioned once but that he couldn’t get out of his mind, and he had wanted to surprise you. He could barely contain his own excitement when he picked you up, admiring your sundress while his legs bounced with untapped energy, insisting you closed your eyes until you had reached your destination.

The Tea Parlor had been perfect, everything you had imagined when you had casually dropped the idea of high tea to your boyfriend. The room was giant and open, windows taking up all of the walls, light spilling in to make the finery of the tea cups and serving trays glisten. You had squealed with excitement, rushing up to the hostess with a spring in your step, Jungkook giggling as he stepped up behind you.

She was friendly at first, polite smiles and kind eyes, until she heard the name the reservation was under. The minute Jungkook’s name spilled from his lips, the hostess went cold, stiff. Her disgust was blatant as she openly glared at him, gaze dragging up and down his form before doing the same to you. Before you could ask what was wrong, she snatched up the menus, giving a curt “Right this way, Mr. Jeon” before turning on her heel, leading you both to the back of the parlor. 

A warm palm at the small of your back had you turning to look at Jungkook, seeking comfort in his gaze, but instead he was focused on the woman in front of you, eyes arctic and emotionless. He guided you to follow the hostess weaving between tables, and it was only once you were both seated that she addressed him again, voice pitched low. “You may have other people’s respect around here, but not mine. I know who you are and what you do. You should be ashamed of yourself.” Placing a menu down, she turned to face you, vitriol lacing her voice. “You should be, too. Out with a man like this, flaunting yourselves? It’s offensive.” 

You weren’t sure how long you had sat in shocked silence when she made her exit, the menus laying unopened on the table. She had put you in the very back of the room, in a darkened corner, something you would normally disapprove of - but once seeing the look on Jungkook’s face, you were glad not to have an audience. 

“What in the fuck was her problem?” you scoff, reaching a hand to lay on top of his own. “Jungkook, don’t listen to that shit. She has no idea what she’s talking about.” 

He was still silent, his free arm clenching and unclenching slowly on top of the delicate lace tablecloth. He hadn’t looked up at you since the hostess had left, but you could see the unchecked rage sparking his eyes, the calculated way he was chewing his lip. His mind was racing, and you weren’t sure where it would land - but you wanted him to know you were here. 

“We don’t have to stay, babe. We can go somewhere else for high tea,” you murmured, smoothing a thumb over the inked words on his knuckles. “Or, we can go shopping, have our own high tea with unlimited tiny sandwiches and desserts,  where no judgmental bitches are allowed.” 

He snorted then, the corner of his lip turning. “So what, then you won’t come to your own high tea?”

You had flicked his hand then with a laugh, moving to interlace his fingers with your own, and after a few whispered declarations of love, he had lifted you from your seat, stopping to twirl you once before guiding you to the front of the parlor to exit. 

He only turned back once he was sure you were safe outside the door, mumbling a “gimme a minute” before he was darting inside, tall form stalking towards the hostess yet again. You weren’t sure what he had said to the woman, but you could see her face - the fear that pooled in her eyes - and you knew it was enough. 

It had been two days since the incident, and Jungkook had been off since. Instead of any usual errands, he had holed you both up in the apartment, nesting and appeasing you with copious cheese snacks and shirtless cuddles on the couch. You had tried to gently ask if he wanted to talk more about it, prompt him in quiet moments and in the protection of your arms, but he always skirted around it, insisting everything was fine, instead pulling you in for a kiss and a reminder that he loves you. 

It made your heart ache, to see the man that you love so much, the twin flame to your soul feel like he couldn’t open up, couldn’t untangle the threads in his mind. He was always worrying about you, taking extra precautions in his work and personal life to ensure your safety, and you found yourself wishing desperately that he would let you take care of him for once.

He had never been good at keeping his emotions hidden. 

You turn your eyes to the screen once more, catching the end of the episode, the screen cutting to black just as Naruto yells “I’ll never let my comrades die!”, which was a pretty good sign that you had been spacing out in thought for longer than you meant to. As the ending credits played, you nudged Jungkook with your shoulder, turning to face him.

“Babe?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Well, it’s just - I gave you the perfect opener to roast me about my love for Kakashi and you didn’t take the bait,” swinging your legs into his lap, you move your arms to drape loosely around his neck. “Didn’t even blink. Doesn’t sound like the Jungkook I know.” 

He hums then, palming your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Why?”

Internally, you sighed. You knew this wasn’t the case, but it also seemed that every attempt to discuss things had been thwarted by the beautiful man one way or another. You needed him to feel ready to open up, to feel vulnerable - and as you stared at the strong, toned arm now touching you, an idea clicked into place.

He grunts an affirmation, turning to face you, inked hands smoothing a path up your legs. There’s a smirk on his face, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re right, I was distracted. I was thinking-”

Pressing a finger to his lips, you shush him. “First of all, I’m always right. Haven’t you learned that by now?” 

Jutting his chin, he nips at the digit, trapping it between the edges of his teeth. “Sounds fake.”

“Second of all..” you continue, voice husky with a new bead of lust pooling low in your gut. You drag your finger over the plush flesh of his lip before sliding lower, tapping his chin once before you grip his jaw tightly. The responding hiss he gives makes you smirk deviously. “No more thinking. I think it’s time for more distractions.” 

Jungkook whines lowly as you move to straddle his lap, your palm still clutching his mouth to pull him closer to you. Your free hand smooths the hair out of his face, nails raking lightly against his scalp.

“Is that okay?” your lips ghost against his own, close enough that he could capture them into a kiss if he wanted, but instead he nods his head, eyes heavy with longing.

Threading your fingers around his midnight locks, you give one sharp tug, exposing his intricately tattooed throat as he keens once more. Releasing his jaw, you drop your head, mouth puckered and planting a kiss on his pulse point. “I wanna hear you say it.”

Jungkook’s chest is heaving,  pulse galloping wildly beneath your palm. He hitches a breath, swallowing thickly. “Fuck, baby. Yes, yes that’s okay,” he rasps, words needy and rushed.

Large palms cup your ass, pulling you closer until you are flush against him, and you moan against his neck as he kneads the flesh, his hips raising off the couch. His tongue finds the juncture between your neck and shoulder, and your eyes roll back as he nibbles and licks at the tender skin. 

Giving in for a moment, you enjoy the feeling of Jungkook’s mouth on your heated body, the warmth of his lips and tongue igniting a fever in your bones, his hands still pulling at the globes of your ass until you were dragging your core over his clothed cock.

It was a deep growl from his chest that brought you back, lifting your head away from his dangerous mouth. This was supposed to be about him relaxing, but if you continued down this path, you knew you’d be lost under his spell.

With great effort, you step off of his lap, knees wobbly as you untangle yourself from Jungkook’s form, though the sight before you makes you want to collapse. Jungkook looks beyond fucked out, eyes dark and shining with desire, his lips ruddy and shining with overuse. He’s panting, his black t-shirt seemingly straining against heaving muscles, the imprint of his cock evident and thick even through his sweatpants.

God, you wanted to ruin him. 

“Lay down for me,” you husk, throat painfully dry. You watch as he does what he’s told, laying until his whole body is now on the couch, his umber gaze never leaving yours. 

“Good boy.” 

He rolls his eyes then, but his cheeks flush, the praise affecting him despite his embarrassment. “Don’t make fun of me, babe. I’m a very powerful man.” 

Chuckling, you move to slide off your sweatpants, stepping out of them and your panties once they hit the floor. A quick flick of your wrist has your top discarded across the room - and leaves you bare before Jungkook. 

“I know you are. But I also know you like it when I take care of you, hmm?” you move closer, hovering just by the edge of where he’s laying, planning your next step.

Jungkook can’t take his gaze off of you, doe eyes obsidian and devouring you whole, darting between your face and splendidly naked form. His hand grips his bulge , palming himself as he hisses in response. 

Climbing over his lap once more, you pause before settling, instead gripping the edges of his shirt to pull over his head, tossing it errantly. Drinking him in, you trace the lengths of his abdomen, grazing over his nipples before following the inked lines down his arms, hands intertwining. Dropping your hips, you roll them once against his hardened cock, moaning at the friction before you move his arms to rest above his head. 

“Leave these here,” you order, but there’s no bite, only softness as you trace back the lines of his palms, the underside of his biceps. He was peering down, wanting to watch your every move, regarding you with admiration as you leaned forward, pressing a wet kiss to his collarbone. 

You take your time, dragging your lips back and forth along the planes of his toned chest, nipping and suckling reddened blemishes on his skin, relishing in the sounds he was making for you - just for you. A quick glance told you that he’s behaving, arms still perched above his head and draped onto the side of the couch, though twitching when you would reach a sensitive spot with your mouth. His eyes are closed, bottom lip tucked beneath his teeth, and when you lap at the hollow of his throat, his brow furrows in strain, as if it took every effort to not reach down and pull you closer to him.

Seeing him blissed out beneath you, relinquishing his control despite his body screaming at him not to has heat flooding your veins, your cunt clenching in desire. If there was one thing that turned you on more than Jungkook existing, it was pleasing him until he forgot his own name. 

With a groan, you lift your lips to press against his own, gasping when his tongue immediately slides into your mouth, tangling with yours. Jungkook always kisses with such passion, hunger edging in every suckle and nibble of your pout, lips moving in tandem. For a moment, you allow yourself to drown in it, relishing the taste of him, kissing him until you’re forced to pull away for air. 

Pressing your forehead to his, you pause, allowing you both time to breathe, your hand rising to cup the silk line of his jaw. His eyes look pained, brows pulled taunt as he looks up at you, and you can feel the sinew muscle beneath your palm twitch. 

Nuzzling against his nose once, twice, you press a chaste kiss against his lips once more. “Jungkook,” you breathe, searching his gaze. “It’s okay. I’m with you, I got you,” 

He swallows thickly, nodding. “I know, babe, I know you do.” He leans forward, chasing your mouth, tugging your bottom lip lightly between his teeth before dropping. “I just, I hate that she said that to you, that you get treated differently because of me, because of who I am-” 

Hushing him with a kiss  is much more effective than with your words, and you continue to lick into his mouth until he's groaning beneath you once more, your name a whispered mantra on his lips. 

“I don’t care what she thinks, what anyone thinks. I know you, Jungkook, and I love you.” 

“I love you too, baby. So much.” 

It was only once the yearning and eagerness came back to light his eyes that you continue, sitting up on all fours so you could crawl upwards. Hips dangling precariously above his face, you could see a quirk of his eyebrow before he looked up at you once more, gaze dripping in wonder. 

“You gonna sit on my face, hmm? Let me taste you?” he rasps, hands moving from their invisible restraints to slide up the outside of your thighs. You let him explore for a brief moment, savoring the sensation of calluses dragging against your soft skin, before you grab his wrists, pinning them back above him.

“Only if you’re a good boy for me.”

 A giggle escapes you at his expression, but before he could protest you lower yourself to his mouth, letting out a sigh when puckered lips immediately latch onto your throbbing clit. He drags his tongue against it before tugging it between plush lips, suckling harshly, your eyes rolling back as you grip the couch to steady yourself. 

“Fuck, Jungkook,” 

Grinning against your core, he alternates his attack, lapping your wetness, licking the length of your vulva before focusing again at the hardened bud at your apex. Just when your thighs start to tense, your high within reach, he moves back to tonguing your slickened core slowly, moaning as he tastes you like a man starved.

Reaching down, you grab a fistful of his hair, pulling him closer to your aching center, briefly regretting your decision to not let him touch you - but too stubborn to lift the request. “You’re so good, baby.” you mewl, hips rutting against him. “So good to me, I’m so close, please don’t stop.” 

Jungkook’s tongue lashes against your cunt with a renewed fervor, your praise spurring him on with the only goal being to satisfy you. As the band in your stomach tightens, your thighs start trembling, making him groan against you before focusing  on your clit, the vibrations of his mouth proving to be too much alongside the onslaught of his suckled kisses. 

With a cry of his name you tumble over the edge, releasing the pent up orgasm with a flood of liquid arousal, Jungkook lapping up every drop as you give it to him. He’s whispering praise all the while, telling you how good you did for him, how delicious you taste - taking care of you even as he guides you through the crest. Feeling weak as you come down, you shudder a breath, hand reaching to stabilize you on the couch edge long enough to move away from that dangerous mouth of his. 

“God, that was so hot, Y/N, you’re so good to me,” his voice is rough, gravelly with misuse. Unable to stop himself, his arms come to cradle your shivering form to his chest, laying you completely on top of him. 

You give in, allowing  yourself time to catch your breath and regain stability in your wobbling bones. His hand smooths against your hair, cooing softly at you. When you feel firmly returned to earth, Jungkook shifts, moving as if he wanted to pin you beneath him.

 “Are you going to be good for me now?” he smirks, eyebrow raised in cocky defiance, the kind only earned from having the skills to back it up.

Returning the smile, you shake your head, pushing his chest back down to the couch. “Absolutely not, who said I was done with you?”

A retort dies on his lips at the sight of you slinking down his legs, hands pulling his sweatpants on your descent, his cock red and dripping in precum as it slaps taunt against his abdomen. Sucking a digit into your mouth, you pull it out with a lewd pop to trace lightly up and down his length, stopping to swirl it around the leaking head. 

The thick cords of muscle in his tattooed clad thighs tense at the light touch, and his hips rise to chase the contact. “Baby, you’re going to kill me, please,” he whines, and it’s sweet  music to your ears.

“Hmm, want me to touch you? To taste you?” you murmur, dropping your head to kiss lightly up his shaft - just enough pressure to let him know you were there, but not enough for any sort of relief.

“God, I want you so fucking bad,” he mumbles frantically,  words tying around his tongue thickened with lust. “Please, baby. I’d do anything. You want me to beg? I’ll get on my knees,” 

He cuts off with a moan when you slip the tip into the molten heat of your mouth, worshiping the sensitive flesh with your tongue, sucking gently. He’s bucking now, desperate to feel more, but you pull back enough to not allow his cock to sink further into your mouth, content to lap at the reddened head until he was dripping. 

Savoring the hardened lines of his body and the lecherous way he was looking at you for a moment longer, you finally acquiesce, dragging your mouth down his shaft until you could nuzzle the hairs at his pelvis. The growl that rumbled through his chest was your reward, his hands now sliding through your hair to tug at your scalp. 

“Fuck, so good,” he babbles, gulping for air. “Feels so good, you’re so good to me.”

Pacing yourself, you glide up and down, tongue swirling around velvet steel as you take him fully, one hand cupping around his base. While his length was impressive, it was the girth that took you time to adjust to, and once you were used to the heaviness on your tongue you increase your speed, taking him as far back into your throat as possible before swallowing around him.

Jungkook cries out, your name tumbling from his lips as his hands tighten in your hair. He thrusts shallowly up into your mouth once, twice, before he hisses, pulling you off of him with a grunt. 

“I-I can’t, you can’t keep doing that,” he stutters, licking the salt off his lips. “If you do, I’m going to come.”

Grinning, you slide your fist that had been holding him steady up his shaft, squeezing lightly. “What if that’s what I want? What if I want you to make a mess for me?”

The cock in your hand pulses at your words, and pride swells in your chest, a wicked light brimming in your eyes. “Jungkook?” your free hand moves to cradle the weight of his balls, massaging gently. “Would you let me?”

He whines, head slamming back into the pillows as he gives in to your tease. “Did I mention that you’re going to be the death of me? Because if not, I would like to make sure that statement is on record.”

“Well, that’s not an answer.”

Bucking his hips, his hands slide from your hair to rest on top of your own. “Yes,Y/N. I’d let you do whatever you want to me. I’d let you wreck me thoroughly and I’d thank you for it when it was over,” he pants, before pulling your grip off his throbbing arousal. 

Pouting, you watch with narrowed eyes as he sits up, his inked palm coming to caress your cheek. “But right now,” he timbers, voice low, “I want nothing more than to feel you, bury myself inside you. To have your tight pussy squeezing around me as I come. ” 

Tracing the lines of your lips, he leans to ghost his mouth against yours, breath intertwining. “Will you let me?” he whispers, imitating your words, nosing down to your pulse point, your throat. A surge of desire had your thighs pressing together, your nipples pebbling as he scorches your neck with the fire of his tongue. 

Shoving him down, you straddle him once more, wasting no time to reach behind you to firmly grasp his cock and sheath it into your awaiting heat. You both moan at the plunge, his thickness stretching you deliciously until the pressure ebbed into pleasure.

Once you are fully seated, you lean over him, watching his face intently as you roll your hips gracefully, slowly. Jungkook angles up far enough to pull a nipple into his mouth, encircling it with tongue until you were groaning for him. Inked arms snaked down to grasp at the meat of your ass, dragging you back and forth, your engorged bundle of nerves grinding deliciously against his pelvis. You couldn’t help but to keen loudly, gasps for air becoming more desperate as your unhurried pace tortures you both into delirium. 

It’s then he speaks, tone husky as he admires you. “You are so perfect, so beautiful, baby,” he presses swollen lips into your neck, your collarbone, your breast. “Perfect for me.” 

His hands slide up to grasp your hips, fingers pressing so deep you were sure they’d leave small bruises in his wake. Moving to plant his feet firmly against the couch, he starts to thrust up into you, his assault relentless as his tight grip pins you in place. Crying out, you throw your head back, eyes closing against the euphoria of him stroking every sensitive spot inside of you on each plunge. 

“So good, taking me so good,” he croaks, voice thick with lust. “God, look at you. Falling apart for me.”

You clench then, tightening around his cock and making him choke on a moan. “I can make you fall apart for me t-too,” you breathe, placing your hands on his broad chest to help you meet each snap of his pelvis.

“I know you can, baby. You can make me do anything,” his eyes meet yours then, intense and overflowing with admiration. “I worship you, f-fuck. Love you, I love you so much.” 

You try to hold eye contact, but his pace is relentless, his cock filling you to the brim, ravaging you with stamina only he could possess. “I love you too, Jungkook,” moaning, you start to meet each thrust, chasing your high. 

He can tell you’re close, tell by the way your eyes are squeezed tight, your cheeks blooming pink, mouth agape in a silent scream. He sits up, settling you onto his lap so he could be face to face with you. “Open your eyes, I want to see you,” he hisses, hands still guiding you to bounce on his length. “I wanna watch you come for me, wanna come with you.”

Prying open your heavy lids, you meet the matchbook fire in his gaze, feeling yourself tighten around him at the carnal lust he assaults you with. You were close, so close, and when he whines out another melody of your name, you feel the thinned  band finally snap, throwing you into your second orgasm.

Jungkook fucks you through it, composure lost when you clench around him like a vice, and he reaches his peak as you’re coming down, groaning as he spills himself inside of you. It takes his hips a moment to catch up, stuttering a few final snaps before resting, and then he’s tugging you down to him, pressing your form tightly to his own.

Heavy panting filled the room, and you let the rhythmic beating of his heart bring you back to earth, lull you until your eyes were heavy with fatigue. Jungkook was still inside you, and you could feel him softening though he made no indication of moving. An inked hand rose to sink into your hair, scratching your scalp soothingly. 

“You’re the best at distractions,”

“I know.”

Licking his dry lips, he whistles lowly. “Spend the night with me?”

You chuckle, sliding your palm to rest on his chest. “I live here, you dummy.” Humming, you trace the patterns of the designs etched into his skin serenely . “We should still talk about it, though. What’s bothering you.” 

He stiffens beneath you, letting loose a shaky breath. Silence envelopes you both, so you continue. “You know I have no regrets about the choices I made, about choosing you. I can protect myself. And I’ll always defend you, Jungkook.”

“I know,” he starts, tone shifting. “I always knew my lifestyle would bring some challenges, and I was ready to face them. But when it affects the people I love - when it affects you - I just,” he pauses, chewing on his lip as he searches for the words. “I just hate it.  I know you don’t need me to, but it makes me want to shield you from the world. Lock you away with me, safe from everything. Just the two of us.”

Your heart squeezes tightly at his words, at the sincerity in his voice. You don’t like that he’s worried over you, but you also understand that this is just him, his heart. He will always want to shelter those he loves from pain, and it’s one of the million reasons you trusted him with your life - loved him so deeply.

“We’ve done a pretty good job at that the last few days, I think,” you smirk, resting your chin on his chest to meet his eyes. “We can get through anything as long as we’re together, you know?”

Jungkook grins then, one of his wide ones that crinkles his nose and shows off his teeth, and the rush of love that hits your veins makes you dizzy. 

“I know, baby.” 

You continue to talk for a few more moments, content to be wrapped up in his embrace, despite the fact that you were both nude and in great need of a shower. When you finally move to stand, stretching your limbs over your head, another thought crosses your mind.

“Wait, I need to know - what did you tell the hostess that day? At the tea parlor?” 

Jungkook rises to full height next to you, hair sweaty and flopping into his eyes. He tilts his head, expression sliding into one more serious. “I told her that I was glad she knew who I was, because then she knew what would happen if she ever so much as looked at you the wrong way again…” he trailed off, stepping closer to give you a glimpse of his cold glare, a small taste of the power he possessed.  

“And that is I would leave her a terrible review on Yelp. I’m talking abysmal, zero stars, and a detailed essay on just how unprofessional she was. Tell all my friends to do the same. She’d be lucky to have a job by the end of the week when I was through.”

You stare at him wide eyed for a beat before laughter overtakes you, arms rising to slide around his neck, pulling him closer. He was trying - and failing - to keep the serious look on his face, eyes glittered with mischief, chuckles rumbling low in his chest. Pecking the side of his upturned pout, you sigh dreamily. 

“My hero.”

[fluctuating-fixations]

I saw tootsie in tour here’s my thoughts

A lot of this is in compassion to the broadway bootleg, also some of these are inside jokes with @max-van-horn

ACT I

Damn this set and costumes are non equity!

Drew why aren’t you cheating out

Adam Dupleiss didn’t have as good stage presence as Reg, but I think he grew into it as the show progressed

Drew talks like Ethan Slater as spongebob

Payton’s Sandy is less self pitying and less. Annoying than Sarah’s Sandy.

I swear to god they had a Hanukkah poster thing on the wall/door during Michael’s “party” scene that never showed up again

They are hitting nearly every joke this is GREAT

I love Jared’s Jeff he’s better than Andy sorry Andy favorite mutual on Dorothysmichaels

THEY HAVE LIKE NO ENSEMBLE MEMBERS THERE WAS ENOUGH FOR 2 COUPLES 2 MEN AND 2 WOMEN IN IM ALIVE PLUS ALL THE NAMED CHARACTERS AND 3 COUPLES PLUS NAMED IN I LIKE WHAT SHES DOING

I think Drew Dorothy and Ashley Julie have better chemistry than Santino and Lilli but idk

U know what this Michael is so adhder and Bway Michael is autistic

Some of the blocking was a little different

The audition/rehearsal room was a skrim of a wall overlooking the city with (medicore) forced perspective and a barre, or maybe it was a flat

Dorothy wiggled her shoulders at max it was so weird like some shit straight outta Fosse

Stan had a New York accent

It feels like the whole cast took a bit for them to really get into it except for Payton, Drew was amazing though his vibrato holy shit

A looot of skrims and flats attached to the fly system

Julie is so sweet oh my god

“Connecting with all of those folks in the dark” hits different when you really are one of the folks connecting with her

Michael is less evil than he sounds on the audio boot

HE WASNT ON HIS KNEES FOR THE HALF COCKED AND DOWN ON MY KNEES LINE IT WAS SUCH A DISAPPOINTMENT

The set the non flat non skrim part was two ? Foldable flats one side was a New York skyline the other was an interior and each would fold out into Mike and Jeff’s apartment

Carl sounded gay as hell

The ensemble would move the set Sweeney Todd core omg!!!

Julie and Dorothy bonded over??? Hating pigeons???

MAX DID THIS ANTHONY ASS JUMP IN THE MIDDLE KF THE STAGE DURING THE TRANSITION BETWEEN IM ALIVE AND THE NEXT SCENE

Dorothy didn’t come out of a trap door in Unstoppable, also the dress was cut shorter than in the Broadway version I think?

Drew’s Dorothy isn’t as much of a milf as Santino’s I’m sorry I think they should’ve redone the wig a little to suit his face shape now he looks like my photography teacher

ACT II

ACT 2 WAS SO FUNNY

QGOD the laughs in Jeff sums it up Holy shit

Jeff sped up when he was doing the dance when Michael was trying to shush him for the phone call the laughs went on for AGES

Julie’s delivery of Who Are You reprise with Ashley’s interpretation of Julie is AMAZING it works better than Lilli’s sorry

THIS THING WAS SO FUNNY THAT AND THE SCENE AFTERWARDS BROUGHT THE HOUSE DOWN Michael sunk to the floor during it

Jeff also sits like Spiderman in one party shortly before he jumps? It’s rather odd, but funny

I love the scene afterwards too Stan was so funny, just everything I liked the dynamics in his voice

Michael sinks to the floor on all fours and cowers when he says “it’s really not”

The ninja turtle

The Dress meme shows up. Very dated, not funny sorry

The reveal scene doesn’t hit the same with Rita yelling “SON OF A BITCH”

In speaking of Rita the actress did a good job at sounding and talking like an old woman, not just in voice but in mannerism and inflection

Michael is not autistic.

He sounded so gross when he was flirting with Julie it was funny though

Sandy so silly I love her

THW REVEAL idk man it was good, the sets were interesting they didn’t have a backdrop to be the audience

Lukas James Miller heel click

The changed reveal scene was good it made me wanna kms less, very funny too

The Sandpaper romance was so abrupt it was hilarious

Jeff was holding a MacBook during the press conference scene

They don’t have a landline anymore, I swear they had a landline in the bootleg but I could be remembering it wrong

The ending still sucked ass but the way it’s delivered there is no way they get back together and a slim chance they stay friends

CHARACTERS

In relation to how similar and different they are from the broadway version

Michael - a lot more ? Assholely, Bway Michael is more well intending and is a dick and selfish out of lack of self awareness, this guy is just a piece of shit and I love him, he’s very excitable, feels more like a man-child who never grew out of his 20s very immature, kinda gay, a little less gay than in the audio but he definitely likes men and is not truly in love with Julie, possibly just infatuated/crush

Dorothy - I love her so much Drew Becker absolutely shines as Dorothy it’s really interesting how you can feel Michael become more comfortable with being Dorothy it’s less of Michael playing Dorothy like he is in early act one and he just IS Dorothy by the end, very funny and smart and is a wonderful parallel to Michael (though she is just an extension of him) also Drew Becker can SING, I love her gestures and the way she moves her body

Julie - So sweet! I love her she isn’t someone who self isolated she’s someone who was isolated at a young age, and because of that dove deep into her art and craft and is there to be happy and be seen, not closed off and reclusive like broadway Julie just didn’t see romance as an option beforehand, you can feel her Love for theatre in contrast to Michael’s lust for theatre

Jeff - so fucking tired of this little boy he’s probably had to take care of since college, truly cares about Michael and seems to be worried but he’s at his limit and doesn’t know how to push Michael to help himself at this point, VERY funny too he really gets into the heart of this character

Sandy - Poor thing she’s been through so much, I feel like Bway Sandy as much as she’s hysterical she’s like a cartoon but Instead of a caricature of a person who’s hanging by a thread she’s just a poor woman who’s tried and never gotten what she wants and you believe it also Funny

Max - this version of Max is WILDLY different from Bway max, instead of some blunt jock who’s been given this role he feels like a kid who’s been dumped first in a reality show he probably got on by chance and then a broadway musical, also he’s really funny and dumb and silly

Ron - Britified. But GREAT he feels like what I imagine Bob Fosse was like offstage but silly and British, he earns every laugh and is just a wonderfully cartoonish antagonist to Dorothy

Rita - Rita is basically the same as broadway Rita it’s just not Julie Halston, she feels a little less blunt in this one than broadway version

[inkbun]

So what about Dva's S/o is is slightly famous but is feeling insecure about themselves becauses they think all of their followers are just because they are dating Dva

Ayyy, my first D.Va prompt. Keep ‘em coming y'all, I’m loving all these specific jump-off points. This one was hella easy since I stream too (not regularly or on a schedule anymore bc I’m trying to finish this damn book, but hey). Enjoy! 🐰

D.Va

Words: 1,481

Genre: Hurt & Comfort

“Who’s next in the queue?” you asked, picture-perfect grin on your face.

You glanced at your stream stats on the monitor: 103 concurrent viewers, 2 hours uptime, 88 new followers.

An explosion of “ME!,” Kappas, and emotes flooded your chat.

Stream had gone swimmingly the past few weeks—you were easing into Starcraft II after Hana suggested you try something more competitive. You were more of a Stardew Valley type, but damned if it didn’t help to let off a little steam via a realtime strat game.

You took to it like a fish in pixelated, alien-riddled water, and your follower count was skyrocketing.

Whether that was because of your gameplay or your girlfriend was yet to be seen. To their credit, most of your followers were chill about your love life. But that didn’t mean you avoided her rabid fans.

Yes, you were dating Hana Song, better known to anyone with an ounce of pop culture awareness as D.Va. Yes, you also loved gaming and junk food. Yes, you know she was the best gamer to hit the SC2 comp scene.

Yes,  you knew how lucky you were.

Hell, you were once one of those people without an ounce of pop culture awareness. You and Hana met in a convenience store in Tokyo. She was on vacation from the MEKA program back home in Korea, and you were abroad with your friends. While they ooh'd and ahh’d over all the foreign snacks, you were too struck by the pretty girl with the neko headphones and scowl on her face to notice.

You wandered down the shrimp chip aisle, pretending to look at all the different flavors. When she was close enough you took your shot.

“Hey, do you know anything about these garlic parsley chips? It’s my first time trying them and—”

“I don’t have any autographs or goodies on me, okay?” she quipped, ducking her head into the crux of her baggy grey hoodie. “Please, I’m just trying to enjoy some time off.”

Bewildered, you apologized. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother. It’s my first time so far from home and I was hoping for some guidance on what’s good here…I’ll just ask the clerk.”

Hana glared at you with narrowed eyes, looking between you and the package in your hand.

“Wait, you mean you didn’t pick them up because they’re Bunny Approved?”

“Am I supposed to know what that means?” you asked, looking at the pink-and-white bunny sprite in the top corner. 

Aside from its cutesy scowl, it had no significance to you. Sure, you’d noticed it on energy drinks, donuts, and other junk food, but you just thought it was a quirky cartoon character.

Here this gorgeous, albeit pissed woman was, staring at you like were from Mars. Cautiously, she held a hand out to you.

“I’m Hana, Hana Song.”

“I’m, ________. Nice to meet you.”

You shook her hand, ignoring the flutter in your chest, or the scent of bubblegum that accompanied her words. She smiled at you, pink whiskers on her cheeks molding around her dimples.

“Wanna grab some boba?” she said, hand still wrapped around yours. All you could do was nod.

Fast forward a year, and the two of you were inseparable. You’d packed up, moved to Seoul, and taken up streaming in-between your shifts as a mech technician.

In the time since you’d learned about your girlfriend’s fame and adapted to the unending swirl of fan attention it generated.

Which is exactly why you kept your love life separate from your hobbies. Your stream name was different than any of your other accounts, and you went to great lengths to keep all D.Va or MEKA-related inquiries confined to Hana’s Q&A with fans or other designated appearances.

You loved your girlfriend very much and wholly respected her prowess as both protector and master entertainer. Still, you were fiercely independent and wanted to carve out a name for yourself on your own, not just as “D.Va’s Significant Other.”

All of that went out the window when she started popping into your stream room mid-broadcast. At first, it was accidental. 

The visor on her mech had cracked during a mission and she needed a quick-seal before deploying for sentry duty that night. You were streaming Stardew, chatting with your regulars before you saw the chorus of messages.

OMG is that DVA?!?

______, you didn’t tell us you were dating her!!1

MEKA: activated. Bunny hop: on.

Can she say hi???

You looked behind you to see a Pepto-pink MEKA looming in the oversized doorway. To her credit, Hana handled it well, ejecting from the seat to apologize for barging in. Aside from the wet kiss and little wink she gave the camera, she kept the cutesy antics to a minimum, happy to let you be the star of your own show.  

Then it started happening with greater frequency. It became customary for her to hang out for a few, answer some questions from your viewers, and join you for stream sign-off. 

For the most part you didn’t mind, glad to have your girlfriend by your side. She wasn’t overbearing, and the two of you got to spend some rare downtime in the hour or so after.

Once the secret was out, you saw your stream stats go up until you were a starlet of your own regard. Still, it unnerved you at times, the idea that people only hung around to get a glimpse of the famous D.Va.

You made it through 3 hours of queued games tonight before she showed up, sending your chat into a frenzy once more. 

She was beat-up from combat, sections of her bodysuit singed with plasma ash and face smudged with dirt. Despite the exhaustion from a long day at work, her face lit up when she saw you.

Plopping in your lap, she gave you a big hug and kiss.

“I’m home!” she announced.

You pushed away from the keyboard, shifted her hips against the armrest to get comfortable. “I see that.”

No matter how much the media tried to paint her as a teenage darling, you saw the weight and sadness being in the MEKA program placed on her. 

Though barely 20, Hana was no longer a burgeoning mech pilot. She was a damned war veteran who chose everyday to plaster a smile on her face and emerge as D.Va, the Pink Ray of Hope. 

I know better.

“You still live?” said Hana, glancing at the blue light on your webcam.

“Yeah.” You could sense the urgency in her words, the glisten in her big brown eyes. She was breaking.

“Sign off.”

You did, making your excuses and ignoring the whinging from folks who didn’t get to see their “daily dose of D.Va.”

Choosing to ignore how grossly objectifying that sounded, you hit the “Stop Streaming” button.  Once the light went dark and your offline screen popped up, you twined your fingers in her hair.

“What happened today?”

“We went to Oasis,_____. I saw things there—terrible things the Omnics did, the experiments they conducted on children to give them powers. I just thought, ‘if I’d decided to go to school there instead of joining the MEKA pilots,’ I could’ve been one of them!”

You pulled away to see the depth of horror on her face. You’d heard of Oasis, knew the supposed “advancements” they made bordered on inhumane in their methods of discovery. Still, you never knew Hana had been invited to study there.

“Well you’re not, and you’re fighting evil which is all that matters,” you said, cradling her against your chest. 

She cried, hot tears wetting your shirt. You shushed her, rocking slightly and petting her hair.

It was times like this she felt fragile, liable to break under all the expectations the world hefted on her. You’d gone live tonight expecting to have an audience without Hana, hoping she’d forget to show at the end of stream.

Petty as it was, you wanted to have something all your own, felt insecure at times about the truth of your own growing community and their intentions.

If tonight proved anything to you, it was the power of your love. Sure, your community and your growing “fame” were cool—you’d be remiss to deny that. And sure, some of that clout might be bolstered by you dating one of the world’s top professional gamers.

But all of that meant nothing if your girl wasn’t okay. Watching her cheery, bright facade crack from the sheer volume of suffering, combat, and violence she was subjected to served as a grim reminder. 

Your community may come and go, your fame may grow or wane, but Hana was your everything.

Nuzzling her neck with soft kisses, you whispered in her ear: “You and me, love? We’re gonna save the world.”

Her teary grin and hiccup laugh lanced your chest—god, you loved this woman.

“Damn right.”  

[2700fstreet]

THEATER / 2018-2019

The Play That Goes Wrong

Written by Henry Lewis, Jonathan Sayer, and Henry Shields of Mischief Theatre Company Directed by Mark Bell

So, What’s Going On?

In the aptly named The Play That Goes Wrong, very little goes right—and, as promised, just about everything goes wrong. The curtain rises on the actors and crew of the modern-day Cornley Polytechnic Drama Society preparing for their own curtain to rise; it’s also opening night for their whodunit, Murder at Haversham Manor. Their murder mystery takes place in 1922 at the home of Charles Haversham, who lies “dead” on stage as the curtain rises on Act I of the drama society’s play.

(Are you getting all this?)

As Charles’s friends and his fiancée Florence express their distress over his death, a series of plot twists unfolds, and technical difficulties begin to complicate the production. Sound effects go awry, set pieces malfunction, and misplaced props thwart the actors’ efforts to fulfill their dramatic intent. They persevere nonetheless, steadfastly carrying out their prescribed roles with absurd adherence to their scripted lines and movements, even when these actions no longer make sense.

With her groom-to-be’s body barely cold, Florence finds herself on the receiving end of a new proposal! (How timely!) Meanwhile, the Inspector arrives to investigate Charles’s death. Could Florence’s brother have been involved? Or Florence herself? What about Charles’s brother—who also happens to be Florence’s lover…?

(We warned you there’d be plot twists and turns.)

As the investigation continues, the action becomes increasingly madcap. A door hits Sandra, the actress playing Florence, who passes out, and Stage Manager Annie must replace her, with script in hand. Miscues, missteps, and misinterpretations lead to growing chaos as a poorly constructed set puts the actors in danger. The fake elevator’s floor breaks, the second story of the manor tilts precipitously, and too many actors to name end up nearly crushed or otherwise imperiled.

(And so, you have to ask…)

Can the Inspector solve the mystery of Charles’s murder? Will Sandra regain consciousness? If/when she does, will Annie be willing to give up playing Florence? If/when she isn’t, which woman will prevail? And has anyone noticed the set’s too-loose chandelier...?

It looks like most characters will survive the play-within-a-play. But will they survive The Play That Goes Wrong?

Here’s a sneak peek (“The Play That Goes Wrong at The Kennedy Center”): https://youtu.be/1EyI5mAFY90

Who’s Who

Here’s a very, very helpful note: In The Play That Goes Wrong, names are two-for-the-price-of-one, with each actor playing a character and each of those characters acting in the play-within-a-play. Good luck keeping them straight! (If in doubt, focus on the names of the murder mystery characters, as they’re used more frequently.)

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Characters in The Play That Goes Wrong

Characters in Murder at Haversham Manor

Annie, stage manager for the Cornley Polytechnic Drama Society (CPDS)

Fills in as Florence Colleymoore (see below)

Trevor, lighting and sound operator for CPDS

Fills in as Florence Colleymoore (see below)

Chris, head of CPDS; director of Murder at Haversham Manor

Inspector Carter, esteemed local official

Jonathan, actor for CPDS

Charles Haversham, deceased

Robert, actor for CPDS

Thomas Colleymoore, Charles’s old friend

Dennis, actor for CPDS

Perkins, Charles’s butler

Max, actor for CPDS

Cecil Haversham, Charles’s brother, and Arthur, his gardener

Sandra, actor for CPDS

Florence Colleymoore, Charles’s fiancée and Thomas’s sister

The Play Within a Play

There’s a long dramatic tradition of performing plays within plays, though the inner production does not usually comprise as much of the overall show as in the case of The Play That Goes Wrong. Among the most famous early examples, Shakespeare made use of this technique in his comedy, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and in Hamlet, a tragedy.

In Hamlet, the title character devises a theatrical performance intended to mirror a crime he believes his uncle to have committed in order to prompt a reaction that will prove his uncle’s guilt. Much more recently, the comedic musical The Producers told the story of two theater producers who put on a show they intend to be a flop, Springtime for Hitler, and find that it is an unexpected hit.

In The Play That Goes Wrong, the “inner” show is the entirety of the performance we see, with our Act I corresponding to the characters’ Act I, and the same for Act II. We see the story of an amateur production gone awry. Just as in Hamlet, the inner show is a murder mystery (but this one is set in 1922 and is not being performed for the purpose of catching an actual murderer).

Caption: In The Play That Goes Wrong, the standing clock becomes a stand-in for a character (who is stuck inside); here, it has “fainted” and is resting.

The Language of Stagecraft

Because you’re watching two plays in one, you might like to familiarize yourself with these words related to theatrical productions:

Blackout: what happens when all the lights on stage go out (on purpose); often occurs at the end of an act.

Company: a group of theater performers.

Cue: a line that prompts an action to take place, including another actor speaking a line, entering, or exiting; a change in lighting; a sound effect; a scene change; or a prop placement.

Interval: another word for intermission, which is the break between acts.

Opening night: the first official performance of a theater production.

Stage manager: a person who takes charge of “tech,” or the technical elements of a show, including sets, lighting, props, and costumes. In this show, Annie is the stage manager for the Cornley Polytechnic Drama Society.

What to Look and Listen for…

In The Play That Goes Wrong, actors use physicality to emphasize the absurdity of their show’s unraveling. Exaggerated physical movements also known as “slapstick” (a term originating from the loud sound produced by hitting two wooden sticks together to mimic a slap), help to promote the insanity as the cast tries mightily to perform their play.

The show’s promotional materials reference Monty Python, an apt comparison to the 1970s British comedy group also known for its physical humor (search for the sketch “The Ministry of Silly Walks”—and then, if you still have a taste for British physical humor, search for “Mr. Bean”!). In The Play That Goes Wrong, watch for ways that the actors take advantage of carefully rehearsed “accidental” movements to make their actions funnier.

Caption: An actual slap stick Accessed from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Slapstick#/media/File:Bic_(instrument).jpg

Keeping all of this in mind, check out:

How the murder mystery actors point to their verbal uncertainties by using their bodies. Dennis, who plays Perkins, refers to cues he’s written on the back of his hand when he needs to say a difficult word, such as “façade” or “morose.” And when Annie fills in for Sandra to play the role of Florence, she reads directly and without subtlety from a script.

How the show takes advantage of all set pieces and props, finding ways to break or mishandle each one to add to the comedic effect. The stretcher’s canvas rips, leading the actors to carry it out absurdly without Charles Haversham’s body. The door jams, the door handle falls off, the contents of the coal scuttle catch fire, and the entire second floor begins to tilt Titanic-like. Anything that can go wrong does.

The way characters must rush to compensate for (deliberate) structural problems on the set of the murder mystery. When the Stage Manager, Annie, can’t attach the mantelpiece to the stage wall, she has to hold props herself (see below). When the actor playing Perkins can’t leave through the door, which is stuck, he instead climbs into the clock. The actors are flexible when it suits them but stick to the script rigidly at other times—all to maximize comedic effect.

Caption: With no mantelpiece in sight, Stage Manager Annie becomes a human candelabra.

Think About…

How, in addition to featuring a play within a play, the cast of The Play That Goes Wrong breaks the fourth wall (between themselves and you, the audience) when bookending the acts. Look for cast members to solicit help from or speak to the audience.

Moments of dramatic irony, meaning that the audience enjoys the tension of knowing more than a character does and awaiting the results. We know, for instance, that the Stage Manager, Annie, has replaced the empty bottle of “scotch” with a flammable (and potentially toxic) product, though the actors don’t notice—and we also can foresee their horrified reactions before they take their first sips.

How half-hearted pantomime adds another humorous element to the action, as when Max, playing Arthur the Gardener, walks in with a leash and no dog. “Get down!” he tells the empty space. “Quiet, Winston!” he shushes into silence. And, ultimately, to remove the dog from the house—“I’ll put him outside”—Max throws the leash out the door.

Caption: Max and Sandra—as Cecil and Florence—almost kiss.

Take Action: Challenge Yourself

Mischief Theatre has made good use of the “goes wrong” concept, from The Play That Goes Wrong to Peter Pan Goes Wrong to The Nativity Play Goes Wrong. In fact, much of comedy relies on surprise outcomes, from the slipping-on-a-banana-peel gag to the trickery and mistaken identities that fuel the plots of farces. Mishaps are the underpinning of the concept of irony—when what you expect to see or hear is not what ends up appearing. That’s certainly the case in The Play That Goes Wrong.

You, too, can make use of this technique to drive your own comedic productions. To practice, pick a short story, a scene from your favorite movie or play, or even a historical moment. Then try to rewrite it and have everything go wrong. Perhaps Little Red Riding Hood is color blind; or Barack Obama decides to run for president of the marching band instead of President of the United States of America; or the Grinch steals Chanukah instead of Christmas, and his dog Max keeps stopping to eat latkes and loses track of their sleigh. Imagine all the wacky potential of just one altered plot element—and then add more!

If you’re comfortable sharing on social media, post your comic composition to your favorite platform using the hashtag #storiesgonewrong.

Caption: The set’s window provides a more reliable entrance than the door, which gets stuck shut.

EXPLORE MORE

Go even deeper with the The Play That Goes Wrong Extras.

-

All production photos by Jeremy Daniel.

Writer: Marina Ruben

Content Editor: Lisa Resnick

Logistics Coordination: Katherine Huseman

Producer and Program Manager: Tiffany A. Bryant

-

David M. Rubenstein Chairman

Deborah F. Rutter President

Mario R. Rossero Senior Vice President Education

Theater at the Kennedy Center is made possible by

Major support for Musical Theater at the Kennedy Center is provided by

The Kennedy Center Theater Season is sponsored by Altria Group.

Major support for educational programs at the Kennedy Center is provided by David M. Rubenstein through the Rubenstein Arts Access Program.

Kennedy Center education and related artistic programming is made possible through the generosity of the National Committee for the Performing Arts.

© 2018 The John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts

[hiddlescheekbones]

Hamlet at RADA – a very long and very detailed collection of memories (2/4)

Below is a recollection of every single moment I can remember from one of the best days of my life. The day I saw Tom Hiddleston as Hamlet at the Jerwood Vanbrugh Theatre, RADA, London.

I wrote this as a journal entry for myself, in hopes that I’ll never forget each moment. But also, since this was such a limited availability performance, and we don’t know if it will hypothetically be transferred somewhere, I hope this can give you curious minds a little insight of the play.

Disclaimer:

This is not a review;

Contains detailed descriptions of some scenes from the play so read at your care;

All opinions and emotions are from my own point of view and I understand other people could have lived it differently;

I went to see it mainly for Tom so pardon me if my focus is mainly on him;

Unfortunately, I can’t remember every scene or in what order they played, but I tried my best; I wrote 5 pages worth of notes when I got back at the hotel so this is as close as I can remember.

This memory is divided into four parts:

Before the play

The play (I II)

After the play

If you attended and there’s anything you feel I missed or got wrong please let me know! If you didn’t and want details on some scene or a description of a scene I didn’t include, also the same.

Enjoy!

PS – English is not my first language, nor am I a writer in my daily life. Far from it. I probably didn’t find the right words and I repeat a lot of them. Forgive me. I have a more physical and materialistic approach rather than interpreting the play. For that, I recommend you read these brilliant reviews x x

The Play (I)

A tall shadow walks on stage from the back and sits at the piano. A single light focuses on it.

There he is. Tom Hiddleston live and in colour. I grab my friend’s hand as I’m holding everything inside me and try not to make a noise.

He’s looking down at the piano. He looks up, straight in my direction. The whole world freezes in that moment. There are tears in his eyes. His stare is piercing and intense. His eyes two blue marbles.

Some deep breaths.

He strikes some keys. He restarts and sings in a soft warm voice, the ode from Ophelia to her father, carrying such grief that is heartbreaking.

“And will he not come again?

And will he not come again?

No, no, he is dead;

Go to thy deathbed;

He never will come again.

His beard was as white as snow,

All flaxen was his poll.

He is gone, he is gone.”

There are tears running to my face at this point. I couldn’t have asked for a better first impression.

This song will return at least twice during the play. The melody reminds me of “Days in the Sun”, an original song from the latest Beauty and the Beast film.

The lights go down and the next scene is set. The black wall goes up, revealing a wall with windows at the centre and three doors: one at the left with the portrait of King Hamlet right above, one glass door at the middle, and one hidden door at the right, with a portrait of King Claudius on it. A desk and chair are placed facing the audience. A big square carpet with the coat of arms of Denmark in the middle is placed in the centre of the stage. The King seats at the desk and a technician (who I found out at the end was an actual theatre tech member) counts down from 5 to 0 like the scene is ready to go on air on live television.

Claudius first speech is delivered as a TV announcement to the people. He’s wearing a grey suit and tie. Nicholas Farrell, the actor who plays him, makes a noticeable pause in the middle of his monologue as he looks like he’s trying to remember his line, but recovers like a sir.

At the end, the rest of the cast cheers and Hamlet enters through the left door. Immediately his presence fills the room. He stands tall and with great posture. All actors have great voice projection.

Tom’s voice is loud but enjoyable like honey. There are an anger and bitterness in his first speech. He’s wearing a dark blue ripped sweater, a long black coat, black jeans (or they used to be black) and brown boots. His hair is long and curly, and his beard has grown quite a bit since the rehearsal photos came out.

Hamlet’s first soliloquy “O that this too too sullied flesh would melt” sets the mood for every other soliloquy of the play: all lights out, sudden sound, and a cold blue-ish light over the actor speaking. Tom makes an effort to look at all points of the audience: all around the several rows of the stalls and up to the balcony. Pretty sure he makes eye contact with a few people, but I’m not sure if it’s deliberate or not.

Enter Horatia, Hamlet (who has lost his coat) gives her a big hug that sweeps her off the ground. All their hugs are quite endearing and tense. Caroline Martin is wearing jeans, a long blue shirt, black boots and red lipstick. She has quite a presence and an excellent powerful voice.

Laertes says goodbye to Ophelia and Polonius gives his advice reading from a paper. Laertes wears some very laid back clothes, Polonius wears a dark suit, and Ophelia wears ankle long jeans, a black top and blouse and some flats. Ophelia tells Laertes to be safe and he shows her a box of condoms. Polonius tells Laertes to be safe and gives him an even larger box. Ophelia tells Polonius of Hamlet’s advances while crossing her fingers behind her back (I saw this because she had her back to me, not sure if it was evident for everyone).

Hamlet sees the Ghost played by the brilliant Ansu Kabia. The Ghost enters by the middle glass door, so Hamlet has moved to our end of the stage. First, he stands, back to us and I feel it. The so famous delicious smell that emanates from Tom. It’s quite indescribable but not at all what I expected. It’s a light but imposing smell, no other actor has a particular scent, which lingers after he walks by. It’s a citric sweet but fresh perfume. This is also the first time I realise how extremely tall Tom is. His clothes fit him perfectly. He also has great posture, large shoulders and small waist. He kneels. He’s so close I could touch him. Also, his feet are enormous.

After the Ghost scene comes the first comical moment of the play. The first time the Ghost shouts from the ground “SWEAR!”, Hamlet points at the ground under the carpet and proceeds to sneak himself under it and crawls towards us coming out from the other side as if he’s looking for him.

It makes the whole room giggle.

The set changes again. There’s now a three-seat white sofa facing us and two individual armchairs at the sides facing the big sofa.

The hilarious Polonius speaks of Hamlet’s madness. Rosacrantz and Guildastern (played by the same young actresses that play Marcella and Bernarda) are introduced. They wear fancy lady suits and Rosacrantz wears heels.

Hamlet appears behind the wall and can be seen through the glass windows. He’s wearing a hoodie with the hood on, carries a Danish flag on his shoulders, his face is painted like a football fan and he’s reading Matt Haig’s Reasons to Stay Alive.

The hilarious scene with Polonius takes place, three moments stayed with me:

 “Have you a daughter? (…) Conception is a blessing.” As he says this he proceeds to do a thrusting move towards the sofa. One foot on the pillows and the other on the floor as his hips move back and forward in a very suggestive manner. One of the girls behind me lets out a hysterical laugh. I’m just left there with my chin on the floor. No one has told me about this.

They sit on the sofa. Hamlet still mocking Polonius mimics his movements by crossing legs at the same time

The way Tom delivers the following:

(joking) “You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal—

(serious) except my life,

(laughing) except my life,

(crying) except my life.”

Rosacrantz and Guildastern are back and they bring a pill radio. Hamlet is immediately cheered up and they do a little group dance. And, oh boy, did I imagine I would ever see this day. This is the only moment in the play I can see traces of Tom in his face. He really does enjoy dancing. The dance involves some synchronized moves with their hands in the air and a few turns. Hamlet lifts Rosacrantz off the ground in a swing dance back lift. Everyone is genuinely laughing.

Edit [April 2018]. Finally a confirmation of the song:

After a heated confrontation with the two friends, they end up removing his face paint.

Cue “What a piece of work is a man” my favourite soliloquy. I can still hear it. He’s very mellow and sad, you feel sorry for him.

Polonius comes back announcing the arrival of the players (I can’t really remember if it’s at this point he trips in one of the chairs, great stunt). The Player King delivers Hecuba’s speech and what a performance that was. Pretty sure I saw some tears in the audience. Polonius obnoxiously interrupts the performance a couple of times with Hamlet shushing him like he’s a child and even threatening violence with a fist up.

Polonius gives Ophelia the Holy Bible to read. Enter Hamlet, the whole room goes dark and a single light shines on him. “To be or not to be. THAT is the question” He cries.

He finds Ophelia. “I loved you not.” They get closer and closer, the room is quiet. They kiss. “Get thee to a nunnery.” They kiss again. She takes her blouse off and there’s a noise from the back “Where is your father?” He gets mad, completely enraged.

The play within a play scene comes up. They’ve put the desk and chair on our side of the stage and the sofa and armchairs on the other side. The carpet is gone. The scene proceeds, with Hamlet sitting again very close to us why the play doesn’t start. Unfortunately, this was the only moment of the play that I couldn’t figure what was going on the other side, namely the King’s reaction, as we had the two players reenact the scene in front of us on the desk.

Hamlet rushes and interrupts them, and on the way to climb on the table, Tom misses the chair and almost falls but recovers like a champ. Everyone leaves and there’s the moment with the recorder of which I clearly remember Tom’s long fingers fiddling with the thing.

There’s the scene with the King praying and Hamlet appears from the back with his rapier. Very intense scene.

Jump to the scene with Gertrude, when Hamlet is pretty much possessed with rage. He kills Polonius through King Claudius’ portrait on the hidden door on the right and runs in tears to our end of the stage without realizing who he has murdered.

The scene with Gertrude is one of the most emotionally heavy and makes me tear up. Lolita Chakrabarti is amazing in portraying the despair of a mother.

Hamlet is sent away to England. The back wall with the doors goes up and a projection of clouds can be seen.

Ophelia has gone insane and is wearing some ripped clothes now. I got to say that Kathryn Wilder made me sympathise with her than any other actress has before. There’s a scene on the floor where she points to her belly or intimate parts. 

There’s a loud plane sound and we see Guildastern, Horatia, Hamlet, and Rosacrantz all wearing long black coats. The planes are the soldiers from Norway. The four of them look like they’re about to drop the edgiest album of the year.

[newstfionline]

Africa’s real Wakanda and the struggle to stay uncolonized

By Paul Schemm, Washington Post, February 27, 2018

ADDIS ABABA, Ethiopia--The Marvel Comics movie “Black Panther” has wowed audiences across the United States and around the world, including Africans who have cheered on the African superheroes and their fictional Kingdom of Wakanda.

Ethiopian audiences, in particular, have warmed to the movie, and more than a few have cited their own country as the inspiration for Wakanda, a hidden mountain kingdom in the movie that was the only country in Africa not to be colonized.

Indeed, Ethiopia itself has the distinction of being the sole country on the continent to resist the European scramble for Africa in the late 19th century, when the continent was divided up into colonial possessions.

In fact, a bit like Wakanda, Ethiopia, or Abyssinia as it was once known, was also long shrouded in mystery for Europeans during the Middle Ages, a mythical Christian kingdom of great wealth, surrounded by hostile Muslim states, hidden in the mountains and home to the legendary Prester John.

How much the legend of Ethiopia influenced “Black Panther” creator Stan Lee is up for debate, but the character first appeared in 1966, three years after Ethiopian Emperor Haile Selassie visited the United States and President John F. Kennedy, treating the world to the spectacle of African royalty claiming centuries of lineage.

Addis Ababa’s one cinema showing foreign films has had sold-out screenings several times a day since the film premiered here more than a week ago, and theater manager Elias Abraha expects it to stick around for weeks to come.

“People really liked it because it has connections to the way of life here, and the characters are somewhat related to tribes in Africa; it touches everyone,” he said. “Black Panther” is the best-selling film at the theater since the 3-D release of “Avatar” in 2013, he added.

“It cannot be compared to any other franchise movie we have ever exhibited here,” Abraha said.

At a packed Saturday night screening, the audience cheered and roared with laughter when the Black Panther’s sister Shuri snapped “colonizer” at the hapless CIA agent played by Martin Freeman. Later, there was more laughter when another African chief repeatedly shushed the CIA agent before warning him that if he uttered another word, he would be fed to the chief’s children (a joke since the tribe was actually vegetarian). It was a big departure from the usual Hollywood action films showing here, with their white heroes saving the day.

“These are roles you don’t usually see a black person taking,” said Blen Sahilu, an Ethiopian lawyer and activist who has seen the movie three times. She singled out the role of Shuri, who is also the chief scientist of Wakanda, for its impact.

“The role that she has, how important she is, how brilliant she is ... she is the brains behind the technology the Black Panther is using.”

“When I left the cinema, I thought, imagine if I saw this when I was 12,” she said, noting as well the central debate in the movie between the Black Panther and his nemesis Erik Killmonger about how to respond to the crimes against Africans. “How do you bring about change? The battle between the Black Panther and Killmonger are two different schools of thought about how we respond to imperialism and force.”

Unlike the mythical Wakanda, however, Ethiopia could never rely on some magical mineral to keep its independence. Rather, it had to fight for it. On March 1, the country celebrates one of its most important holidays, marking the battle of Adwa, a victory in 1896 against an invading Italian army that planned to subdue Africa’s last free territory.

The Italian army of some 20,000, many of them conscripts from the recently colonized Eritrea, faced off against Emperor Menelik II’s 100,000 troops. The Italians likely did not worry much about the odds. After all, this was the late 19th century when well-armed and well-trained colonial armies repeatedly defeated vast armies of “native” troops.

Except this time was different. Aside from having a civilization that dated back some 2,000 years, Ethiopia was also united for the first timed in centuries under Menelik, who had also succeeded in buying modern weapons to arm his troops.

Colonial armies had been defeated in Africa before. Zulus had overwhelmed a British force at Isandlwana in South Africa in 1879, and the religious army of the Sudanese Mahdi successfully besieged Khartoum in 1885. But all were defeated in the end.

At Adwa, the Ethiopian victory was decisive, and the Italians would not come back for half a century. It was an inspiration to Africans across a colonized continent--although some of Ethiopia’s other ethnic groups might argue that Menelik, in uniting the country, was actually carrying out his own brand of colonizing and conquest.

The Italians, then under fascist rule, did return in 1936 and briefly occupied Ethiopia with the help of copious amounts of mustard gas (apparently Europeans didn’t need to follow the Geneva protocols when attacking Africans) before they were driven out five years later by British forces with the help of Ethiopian rebels.

Of course the one big difference between Ethiopia and Wakanda is that Ethiopia is not the advanced technological paradise of its mythic counterpart, and despite its history of independence, it is certainly not richest country on the continent.

Yet it has been an important inspiration to Africa, and--as Ethiopians are quick to remind their fellow Africans (sometimes to their annoyance)--at least part of the continent remained free of European control during the age of imperialism.

[ghost-town-story]

Ye Olde England

(Night 3. I debated between Jess and Suchy, but I remember Jess’s better (she’s done it for 2 years while I’ve been there, as opposed to Suchy’s 1), and very little changes between the two anyways except minor things. Also I’m iffy on the intro, but the gist of it is there.)

Italicized text: “Stage directions” ALL CAPS, BOLD: Audience Participation

Jess jumps up onto stage. She strips her usual baseball cap and swaps it out for a fedora before tossing said cap off to the side. 

Alright, so we had our family history,

Gesturing at Tori,

And our Irish history,

Gesturing at Lauren. I might yell “full of death, starvation, and all that fun stuff!” 

But now, ladies and gents, let’s bring this back to the days of Ye Olde England.

A line I remember from Suchy’s version:

When the men were men, and the women were also men.

Back to Jess

Now, back in these days, you know, men had to prove their manliness to each other. So they decided, hey, why not throw around some bricks! Well, that resulted in too many broken windows. So the Knights of the Octagonal table gathered

Usually some heckling, as whatever shape Jess chooses, it’s decidedly not round

and they came to the conclusion, “Hey, what’s more manly than trying to lift bricks, with our dicks?” 

So they all gather in the Colosseum (Yes, the infamous English Colosseum)

She shushes the hecklers at that line

But they all look around like, who’s going to go first? When forward steps Sir Lance, A Lot and he volunteers to go first. So he steps up and straps on 

ONE FIVE POUND BRICK! AND HE HEAVED, AND HE HOISTED THAT BRICK IN THE AIR!

Jess and the audience hold up a finger for one brick, then punctuate “five pound brick” with all five fingers. 

And the women sighed,

OH

Dramatic fainting sounds, complete with the “back of hand on forehead” trope

And the children waved their

BRIGHTLY COLORED HANKIES!

The audience simulates waving around said hankies, one wave for each word. One year, I was wearing a bandanna, and I waved that around. People will also wave scarves if they have them. 

And the band played

APPROPRIATELY

A little hand wave on “Appropriately” 

Well, that was, uh, certainly something. The knights were debating who was gonna top that when suddenly, they hear a noise.

Stomp stomp woosh

The audience joins Jess in making the noise for a few repetitions.

So along comes this.... this thing, and it lifts

NOT ONE, BUT TWO FIVE POUND BRICKS! AND HE HEAVED, AND HE HOISTED THOSE BRICKS IN THE AIR!

From this point on, the number of bricks is counted on fingers, but otherwise the other actions stay the same

And the women sighed,

OH

And the children waved their 

BRIGHTLY COLORED HANKIES!

And the band played

APPROPRIATELY

.... Yeah okay, I’m gonna need some bleach after that sight. So now all the knights are wondering who can do better than that... that thing when somebody calls out “I’ll do it!”

This next character changes from show to show. In “Little Shop”, it was Audrey II. I believe in “Earnest” it was Algernon. I don’t remember all the other ones, but it’s (usually) a guy from the show we just completed. 

And in walks _Character_.

To a bunch of cheers and laughter.

And he lifts

NOT ONE, NOT TWO, BUT THREE FIVE POUND BRICKS! AND HE HEAVED, AND HE HOISTED THOSE BRICKS IN THE AIR!

And the women sighed,

OH

And the children waved their

BRIGHTLY COLORED HANKIES!

And the band played

APPROPRIATELY

Wow, okay. But the cheering is suddenly cut off as the king stands up. Because like, nobody can top the king, so he lifts 

NOT ONE, NOT TWO, NOT THREE, NOT FOUR, BUT FIVE FIVE POUND BRICKS! AND HE HEAVED, AND HE HOISTED THOSE BRICKS IN THE AIR!

And the women sighed,

OH

And the children waved their

BRIGHTLY COLORED HANKIES!

And the band played

GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!

Jess bows and leaps off stage. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Boat Joke / The Irish Joke / Ye Olde England / The Legend of Shaquayquay / The OG Boat Joke

[culturalgutter]

At first it was the way the bears were stacked atop each other that appealed to me. I’d see ads for We Bare Bears while watching other shows and think, “That is adorable/charming/cute/apealing?” Their shape, the color arrangement. Just the whole stacking thing. But one weekend shortly after the 2016 election, I made myself chocolate chip pancakes and decided I’d watch an episode of this bear cartoon and see what was what. I ended up spending the day watching episode after episode of We Bare Bears.  My first episode—or at least the one that I remember most clearly—was, “The Demon.” In it, Ice Bear and his friend Chloe Park face the terror of the neighbor’s little dog after Chloe accidentally loses her hoody to the fiend. It is nicely done with Chekov’s potato gun appearing in the first act appearing again in the third. It has elements that I most like about the show at its best. A reliance on character to drive the plot, conflict and action; diverse characters; a careful calculus around consequences; appropriate stakes; and, resolutions that tend toward ending in a better place than the episode began. These elements aren’t easy to pull off, especially in an eleven minute episode.

In We Bare Bears, three bear bros, Grizz, Panda and Ice Bear, live together in a cave in the woods. We Bare Bears is set in the Bay Area.  A lot of cartoons and shows are set supposedly non-specific anywhere or everywhere that only make them seem even more the product a specific place, often, ironically enough, California. But We Bare Bears goes ahead and lets their place be their place and then sees what stories they can tell. You might have suspected from their names that these bears are not biologically related. The bears are a chosen family with Grizz as the oldest brother and Ice Bear as the youngest. And even though Ice Bear is, as he says, “best bear,” all the bears have their own charm. Grizz is an outgoing and enthusiastic brown bear. His wants to be cool and to have a lot of friends. Sometimes he tries too hard or is too caught up in his own enthusiasm. But he tries hard and when the bears befriend Chloe, he learns some Korean to try be a good friend and maybe to reassure her father and grandmother that being friends with bears is alright. Grizz loves 1980s and 1990s action movies and has made a couple of his own “Crowbar Jones” shorts, starring himself as Crowbar Jones and “Pando,” a comic relief sidekick clearly inspired by Panda.

Panda, aka, Pan-Pan, is as his name implies, a panda. He’s also an otaku loves anime, manga, Japanese and Korean pop music and K-dramas, though likely not Vampire Prosecutor, more say, Boys Over Flowers and those body-switching romantic dramas, like Secret Garden (2010). Panda loves the idea of being in a relationship, but it’s probably a good thing he isn’t. He has a waifu body pillow named Miki-chan. Panda is intensely involved online hoping for likes and shares and trying to meet his true love. He’s an otaku who doesn’t read or speak much Japanese or Korean.  He’s allergic to everything and is vegetarian while his brothers love meat. Panda is sweet and sensitive but also capable of becoming resentful to the point of supervillainy.

Ice Bear always refers to himself as “Ice Bear,” except that one time he was conked on his noggin and started wearing a man-bun and hanging out with tech bros. His room is the bears’ refrigerator, where he knits and watches figure skating. Ice Bear was nonverbal as a cub and his affect does not necessarily reflect what he is feeling on the inside. Ice Bear comes across as neurodivergent and probably on the autism spectrum.

Ice Bear is clearly the coolest and arguably as he claims, “best bear.” He has what Grizz and Napoleon Dynamite would call, “skillz.” He speaks Russian, Korean, Pigeon and, I expect, many more languages. He likes axes, throwing stars, martial arts, salsa dancing, cooking, knitting and making robots. Ice Bear also has a secret life his brothers don’t know about. One revealed particularly in two episodes that are We Bare Bears influenced by Drive (2011), general Nicolas Winding Refn-ness and by John Wick, “Icy Nights” and “Icy Nights II.”* The song playing when Ice Bear enters the city in “Icy Nights” recalls “Nightcall” from the Drive soundtrack.

Grizz befriends Wyatt the biker at a gas station in the desert.

The bears make friends, though. They befriend Chloe Park, a 12-year-old Korean-American child protege who comes to study them for a college biology course. Chloe is stressed and lonely being the only tween in university. And they are also friends with Ranger Tabes, who reminds me of Rosie the camp director from Lumberjanes. Tabes out for their part of the forest. And they are friends with Charlie, a bigfoot voiced by Jason Lee, so I always kind of think he’s Earl from My Name Is Earl. Charlie also hosts the Halloween episodes, each a little horror anthology. (One with a fantastic take on Scooby-Doo).

We Bare Bears has some superficial similarities with Polar Bear Cafe, which also features a polar/ice bear, panda and grizzly bear–as well as a llama, sloth and penguin. Polar Bear Cafe‘s Panda is obsessed with being cute.  Like Ice Bear, Polar Bear is responsible and can drive a car. I enjoy his attempts to teach Penguin to drive.

“Ice Bear is responsible.”

There is a grizzly bear who gets most of his clothes from the Harley-Davidson store. But Polar Bear runs a cafe. There are a lot of puns. And the show skews towards a younger audience. That said, I think We Bare Bears make a little nod to Polar Bear Cafe with the “Coffee Cave” episode, in which the bears turn their cave into a cafe. Ice Bear becomes a barrista to facilitate Grizz hanging with cool people and Panda tries to make time with a woman he thinks is cute.

I enjoy We Bare Bears‘ references to film, tv, games, comics and cartoons and even Walt Whitman. When the bears work “shushing the unshushable” in an Oakland cineplex, there are a slew of film references that would warm the heart of the most cantankerous cinephile. In another episode, the bears recall films like Phase IV (1974) and Empire of the Ants (1977) as they obey the wishes of a queen bee.

The bears listening to the queen.

Ranger Tabes in peril!

Panda is pursued by a virtual reality Doof Warrior from Mad Max: Fury Road (2015). And there’s a bit from the beginning of Quincy Jones’ Ironside theme in “Bear Cleanse” when someone is secretly eating cake. It might’ve been taken from Kill Bill (2003) or from Lo Lieh dangerous fists in King Boxer/ Five Fingers of Death (1972). Grizz knows it from Kill Bill, but Ice Bear definitely recognizes it from King Boxer. I like that the creators are using art that they like. And art that I like, too.

While the structure is episodic, there is no total reset at the end of every episode. “Icy Nights,” for example, uses a number of elements from earlier episodes—Ice Bear’s modified roomba, for example. And human characters who are almost doppelgangers of the bears, Tom, Isaac and Griff, appear first in “Panda’s friend” and then in two more episodes, “Bro Brawl” and “The Mall.”

The show alternates between episodes featuring the bears in their presumably current adult forms with ones about the bears as cubs. If you must have origin stories, the baby bear episodes provide them and do a pretty good job. The baby bear episodes also do a good job of capturing a kids point-of-view. In general, I prefer the adult episodes, but that might be because I am an adult. As always, I don’t begrudge kids’ interests being put before my own in cartoons meant for kids.  I do, however, very much enjoy “Los Escandalosos,” in which the baby bears become a tag team in a kids’ lucha libre league in Mexico. There are some sweet luchador names in that episode and mariachis sing a ballad about los Escandalosos. Incidentally, “Escandalosos” is also the Spanish name for the show. I appreciate the pun making the title, “Scandal Bears.” It only took me two days catch it, but I did.

I also appreciate that We Bare Bears rarely translates the Spanish, Korean or Russian in the show. The writers relies on us to understand generally what is going on and not freak out when we don’t understand specifically what is said. There are times when we don’t understand something and that’s okay. I particularly appreciate that while we learn why Ice Bear knows Russian, we don’t see when Ice Bear went from non-verbal to verbal. Neurodiversity isn’t exactly the same kind of plot point as that time a Russian man in the arctic took in Ice Bear. At the same time, if the writers did decide to show the first time Ice Bear spoke, I trust them to do right by him and neurodivergent folk.

The bears are trying to participate in the human world and figure out how they fit into it. They not like they other animals anymore, but that’s okay. Though it might negatively impact their health as they prefer to eat, say, pizza bagels over bamboo and seals. And they’re not quite like humans cause they’re still bears, and that should be okay, but it’s not always.

Panda being hassled by the Man.

Daniel Chong talked a bit about how one of the things he was thinking of when creating this show was the ways that this experience paralleled being a minority in America and particularly, racism in America. Sometimes people react negatively to the bears and it’s just those people’s thing, not the bears, though it is particularly distressing to Grizz.**

I mentioned before that I appreciate that whatever shenanigans the bears or a single bears cause or are involved in have appropriately calculated stakes and consequences–and not just in the sense that a cartoon meant for all ages should probably not have a lot of gruesome death in it. The person most responsible for shenanigating takes most of the damage and uninvolved people or innocent people caught up in it are not as subject to the shenanigans.*** And that’s a relief to me. It’s not a cartoon that relies on either the pleasure of someone finally getting what they deserve–one day that Roadrunner will get his/her due!–or on the shock of, say, Ren’s cruelty to Stimpy, Jerry’s cruelty to Tom the Cat or Woody Woodpecker’s flat-out sociopathy.

Sweet jean jacket.

When the bears dig a cool jean jacket with a tiger on the back out of a dumpster, they get a run of good luck. The luck is low level, but the bears are ecstatic. Ice Bear says, “This is the best thing to happen to Ice Bear” and they all agree.  Panda finds money in the pocket. Grizz gets three high fives in a row. Ice Bear finds coupons for salsa dancing lessons.

The rain stops. Streetlights go their way. Pizza bagels are on sale. A cash opens up at the grocery store and they are first in line. But when the jacket’s curse is revealed, it operates on the same level. They each want the jacket for themselves and end up fighting. Joss Whedon’s We Bare Bears would straight up have killed one of them, but instead Panda accidentally punches his own face.

They realize, ‘We’re not wearing this jacket. This jacket is wearing us. We have to get rid of it.” The temptations the jacket uses to try to get them to take it back are things like pizza mistakenly delivered to their house. All of which are stakes and consequences appropriate to the situation. We Bare Bears is about critters and people mostly trying their best and screwing up sometimes. It is a pretty gentle cartoon, though there are both shenanigans and hijinx. It seems to me that in its own way going the chill and gentle route can be more avant-garde than another manic cartoon.

*I see a little Tokyo Drifter in the part where Ice Bear is silhouetted in red, too.

**There is a thing here where I talk a bit about the Prime Directive and the ways that it is kind of butts, but we have bears to discuss.

***This is a more complicated calculation when Panda goes bad in “Braces.”

~~~

Carol Borden isn’t going to lie. She kind of covets that jean jacket.

Ice Bear is Best Bear At first it was the way the bears were stacked atop each other that appealed to me.