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1000sandwiches · 1 year ago

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Tue, Feb 6, 2024

Lately I have become extremely nostalgic for the Web 1.0 era of the internet. It started with me looking at archived Usenet posts via Google Groups, but has turned into me spending hours on the Wayback Machine looking up sites I used to haunt back in the 90s and early 2000s. Stuff like The Gaming Intelligence Agency (which is still up somehow), Elfwood, Toriyama's World, or various rabbit holes from the Anime Web Turnpike. I really miss the days everyone had their own website (I had several if you're wondering. A Flame of Recca fan site, for example). I want to be one of the cool kids and join Neocities in hopes it'll give me a similar vibe, but I haven't done HTML in years and feel a bit intimidated by it. So for now maybe a Tumblr diary will do. So that's what this is, a rambling online diary like the kind I kept as a teenager. It seemed cheaper than therapy.

Rambling about being a new parent and venting about my in-laws below. It's not particularly interesting. Next time I'll just write about video games I'm playing, probably.

I became a dad in November 2023. My emotions and mental health have been sort of all over the place since the day we checked into the hospital. I had always wanted a family of my own, and my wife and I both felt we would regret not having at least one child. I have a lot of insecurities about being a first time father at my age. I'm 38 now, and I just keep thinking about how I'll be 43 when my son is 5, and worry I won't be able to keep up with him. But here we are.

My wife was induced and spent 30 hours in labor before the doctor finally gave us the option for a C-Section. She didn't even hesitate to say yes, honestly just relieved to get it over with. The operation went fine, but apparently I am a lightweight when it comes to gore. Seeing my partner's blood and guts all over the surgeons had my anxiety screaming. Also, no one will ever believe me, but during the surgery the anesthesiologist, Bob, was playing on his phone. All of a sudden an ad for homemade marinara started playing, and the whole room stopped to stare at him. Surgeons still covered in bloody bits. Bob just mumbled "bad timing" and turned the volume down. What an absolute legend. I love you, Bob!

The experience of holding our son for the first time was just as powerful as I had always heard. So many different feelings washed over me all at once. I'd never even held a baby before then. Seeing my son being held up against my significant other's head made me cry.

Unfortunately, I am a peon at a public library, and my wife works retail, so neither of us are great breadwinners. Oops. Sorry, baby! So now we have super fun medical bills while we also figure out a budget. Currently we are living with my in-laws. Having to adjust to both our newborn and their family routine has been a challenge for us both.

Some days are great. Others are hard. Especially in the first month, where some nights the baby would just scream his head off for hours. I knew I hated loud noises, but I never realized how triggering a baby's cry could be. I'm not suicidal, but I've spent several nights imagining a scenario where I'd jump into my car and driving off a cliff. This has gotten better recently as he now does fairly good job of sleeping through the night. It's a lot easier to be patient with his crying when we are not exhausted.

My wife had a few struggles with post-partum depression. The week after giving birth, her hormones were all over the place and she had frequent panic attacks. One morning she woke up, walked into the living room and saw our son, only to then throw up. She is over this now thankfully, and has put a lot of energy into figuring out how to be a mom. I'm very proud of her.

The In-laws are a huge help, but there are pros and cons to their assistance. There are times where my wife and I really need to learn how to deal with our son's tantrums by ourselves, but the grandparents will insist on taking him. I appreciate the help, but I worry about not being able to handle him myself. In fairness, I might struggle to get him down for an hour, but Grandma can get him to sleep on five minutes. It's like dark magic for grandparents, I swear.

I am also prone to feeling like a burden on the family. I notice a lot of little corrections. Stupid things like say I take some chips from the cupboard and I know I'll put them back in a moment. I might decide to leave the door open for a moment, but Grandma walks in and immediately shuts the cupboard. Other times I might leave a light on which Grandma turns off while I'm still using. I also feel like every interaction I have with my son is being judged. If he's crying and I set him down for a few minutes, someone feels the need to swoop in and take him from me. It's like leaving him be in his bassinet while he's awake his frowned upon.

My In-Laws also have a family culture where everyone hangs out in the living room together all day. This is completely new to me, and I'd rather be alone in my room most of the time. It doesn't help that they are a family that keeps their television on all day and I get very sick of hearing the news cycle repeat over and over. This recently had consequences when Grandpa came home from work sick, and apparently keeping the baby in another room, away from the sick guy, was never even considered.

As you might expect, our baby got sick. I was pissed. I just couldn't believe that I would come home from work to find grandpa coughing just a few feet away from him, and no one thought to keep them separated. Our son then passed his cold onto the rest of the household (not covid or flu, as several of us have tested negative).

So that brings us to now. A week after getting sick, I am still having issues with sinus drainage along with aches and pains. Our son is doing better, and you can't even tell my wife was ever sick. I'm very jealous. I should probably take a few moments to proof read all this, but I've already been typing on my phone for an hour and feel silly about posting this at all.

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souvenirsofsurgery · 4 years ago

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monty’s horror movie list

no one follows me for this but i’m back in my horror movie obsession era so here we go. some of them are good, some of them are bad (but I love them), and some of them are kind of unacceptable, like, morally tbh, I’m sorry

anyway, in no particular order:

mother!: I just watched this one today so it’s on my mind. get ready to be stressed out by deeply uncomfortable social situations for like, the first hour and a half and then genuinely disturbed for the last twenty minutes. i finished this and then sat in my room mouthing “what the fuck, what the fuck”. v good, 10/10

Orphan: What if you adopted a kid but they sucked?

Absentia: I was really impressed, cause this was like a low-budget, crowd funded movie but it’s so so good. This one is about a woman whose husband went missing years ago, a creepy tunnel, and family relationships. V quiet and sad

Possum: Not very much happens in this movie for a long time but the atmosphere is so good, and it’s genuinely creepy. The ending also made me so uncomfortable I almost couldn’t watch it, so there’s that

The Wolf House: Incredible unsettling stop-motion animation, and I’m a sucker for good animation. Makes more sense if you know a little Chilean history, but it’s interesting even without that context

Amityville: It’s About Time: Jumping right from that foreign arthouse film into cheesy schlock, what if a clock made people evil and fucked up?

Hell House LLC: More! Schlock! This is a fake documentary/found footage movie about people trying to make a haunted house in an old hotel... but what if it was haunted for real??

Host (the 2020 shudder original): Unfriended if it was good

Hereditary: Made me sad :( This was one of the first movies to genuinely scare me in a while, and my sister-in-law won’t even let anyone talk to her about it. The story about a family dealing with grief and complicated relationships is also just so interesting to me, this one’s in my top 10

Anything for Jackson: Reverse possession movie: they try to put a spirit IN someone! Hell yeah. So many good, weird ghosts in here, I love some good, weird ghosts

13 Ghosts: (the early 2000s remake) Speaking of good weird ghosts. What if your estranged uncle died and left you a house but there was a ghost jail in the basement? I just rewatched this movie with my little brother and remembered how much I love it. Very schlocky, Matthew Lillard’s acting is off the fucking walls and I love it, why does he act like that??

Kindred: One of the only “is it in her head, or is it real?” movies where I actually really wasn’t sure. It’s about a woman whose husband dies right before she’s about to give birth, so she ends up staying with his family and slowly starts to question their motives

Parents: What if you were just a little kid and you started to suspect your parents were eating people?

Basket Case: I’m not crying over a B movie, I’m not crying over a B movie. In this one, two conjoined twins are surgically separated against their wills, with one of them getting thrown in the trash. As adults, they start hunting down the doctors who did it to them

The Poughkeepsie Tapes: Very depressing fake documentary about a serial killer. Just fucked up and sad

The Taking of Deborah Logan: One of the few found footage movies that I think is actually good. A small documentary crew goes to film a woman and her aging mother who’s suffering from dementia, but they start to think that... huh, maybe this is something a little worse than dementia...

Ju-On: The Grudge (the original Japanese one): this movie just freaks me out, I don’t like how Kayako moves around, I don’t like the sounds she makes, and I don’t like her weird little son

The Ring (the American remake): I saw this movie when I was like 8 bc someone recorded it over the Willy Wonka VHS I’d gotten from the thrift store, and I’ve been fucked up ever since. In it, a woman sees a cursed tape that will make you die in seven days, and has to try and figure out how to save herself before then. GREAT atmosphere, very creepy

Sadako Vs Kayako: What if the girl from the Grudge and the girl from the Ring fought each other? Hell yeah. Plus, love that a ghost hunter comes to help with the situation and he’s got a random mean little girl with him. People are like “why is she here?” and he’s just like “she’s my associate” okay?? Where did she come from??? I’m obsessed with this movie

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: A classic. Rancid, nasty atmosphere, just feels gross, 10/10

Society: Rich people suck so so bad and are very fucked up

House of 1000 Corpses: I love this movie and I’m sorry, its just some disgusting, campy fun. Like, what if your car broke down the night before halloween and ended up in a house with some terrible (but very entertaining) people?

Oculus: The idea of being a little kid, stuck in the house while your parents are slowly losing it, or potentially being possessed by something evil, is really scary to me. This movie does it so well. It moves back and forth from the main characters going through that in their childhoods, to them as adults, back in the house where it happened, and it’s so so good

Hellraiser: You tell me it’s about the blurry line between pleasure and pain and I watch it. The designs for the cenobites are so good. I like this first one a lot, but I also really enjoy the second one bc the torture dimension looks like MC Escher designed it and it’s sick as hell

The Others: This is one of my favorite, like, classic haunted house kind of movie. A mother keeps her kids inside an old mansion, with all the curtains drawn, because they have an illness that means they can’t go in the sunlight. Very, very creepy

The Blair Witch Project: This one just feels so real, I’ve never seen another found footage movie that reached this level. The actors knocked it out of the park, how am I so freaked out just by a couple of people wandering around the woods? It’s the blueprint, honestly

A Nightmare on Elm Street: You guys know this one, he gets you in your dreams! Probably my favorite of the classic slashers, I love some good old practical effects. my brother actually just bought me the WHOLE box set for my birthday so I’m gonna start working though the ones I haven’t seen yet

Jennifer’s Body: What if your best friend, who you have a very homoerotic relationship with, started eating dudes? Iconic. No, but seriously, this movie has a lot more going on than you might think

House of Wax (the 2000s remake): Bad, but so good. It’s really got that uncanny valley thing going on, love that fucked up wax museum

Ichi the Killer: Pretty unacceptable, I can’t in good conscience tell you to watch this movie, but it’s definitely an experience. Very very very violent, like super violent, but in the wildest fucking ways. Basically, what if you were a masochistic Yakuza member with a weird joker mouth and you just wanted a sadistic vigilante to beat the absolute shit out of you? Anyway, I think there’s something wrong with Takashi Miike and probably also me

Black Christmas: This is one of the og og slashers. It’s about girls getting killed in a sorority house, but surprisingly it’s like, not really an exploitation film, and I really like the characters. Good, unsettling killer, too

The Baby: WEIRD. Weird and uncomfortable. I’m not trying to kink shame anyone when I say this, but it’s probably definitely a fetish thing. In it, a social worker takes on the case of a family with an adult son who they’re claiming has the mind of a baby. This one’s probably kind of unacceptable too, to be honest with you

#horror #horror movies #horror movie recs

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tbehartoo · 4 years ago

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Bursting Bubbles

My piece for @thedjwifizine that can be found here. It's full of great art and stories. Check it out!

...

Nino looked up into the scowling face of his favorite seatmate.

“Here you go, Bubbles,” she said as she thrust a mango bubble tea into his hand. “One special of the day from The Boba Bar.” Her other hand slapped a small card onto his sheet music. “And here’s your other three week’s worth of drinks.”

“Aw, Alya you didn’t have to do this,” he held up the card. “This,” he grinned as he took his first sip of the drink, “you definitely needed to do.”

“Well you won the bet fair and square,” Alya huffed as she plopped down into her seat. “You really could find a way to get a harpsichord to sound rockin' when you DJ’ed Kim’s house party.”

“Scoops, I’m surprised you could doubt me,” Nino held a hand to his heart. “It’s like you’ve forgotten that music is my life.” He grumbled toward the music piece he’d been assigned, “It’s not like I’ve spent nearly three grueling years learning this European centered musical theory or anything.” Looking at her smirk he added, “Or that I’d hardly be the first person to experiment with combining old instruments to new music.” He thought for a moment before adding, “Or old music to new instruments.”

The next week it was Nino placing a gift card on Alya’s notepad.

“Your payment for getting me those sources for my music history essay, m’lady,” he said as he bowed to her.

“Nino, what-” she asked as she looked at the card “-what is this?”

Nino felt his face warm up, but he sent a shy smile in her direction as he sat down. “You were saying, the other day, that it’s been forever since you had a mani-pedi, but that they weren’t in your budget at the moment so I figured I’d get one for you as thanks for saving my bacon. I didn’t have time to track down those translations of medieval manuscripts for that Music Development in the Dark Ages assignment, but you did it without my asking.” He grinned at her, “You really took some pressure off of me and I appreciate it.”

She looked at him, back at the card, and back at Nino.

“I don’t remember saying that,” she murmured.

“You were picking at your nails because the color was coming off and said that you’d need to see if Marinette was free for a girl’s night so you could get her to do your nails again,” he said as he started to root around in his bag.

“That was two- three weeks ago?” she said, thinking out loud. She looked at him, but he was obviously avoiding her gaze. “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

His head tucked between his shoulders, a turtle pulling into its shell.

“It was easy to remember,” he said. “You had that sparkly red polish. It really drew in the eye. I remember thinking that you had the perfect hands for playing the piano right before you said it.” He quickly looked away again.

Alya was quiet for a moment before smiling up at him.

“That seems like a really nice compliment coming from a musician like yourself,” she reassured him. She looked back at the card. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of this place.”

“It’s, uh, one of the local beautician schools,” he told her. “You were right about mani-pedis being a bit pricy, but my cousin is going there to learn to cut hair, and she said the girls in the nail class are crazy talented and eager to get someone not a relative to paint on, and it only costs about a fourth of what the pros charge.” He shrugged. “This way you can have like half a dozen manicures for the price of one.”

Alya lunged at him and caught him in a tight hug.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” she cried before releasing him. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Miss Cesaire, if you are quite done groping Mister Lahiffe I’d like to start the class,” the voice of Doctor Agreste cut through the lecture hall and every head snapped toward them.

Alya’s face was nearly as warm and red as his own.

“Yes, sir,” she squeaked as she pulled her arms back to her side.

“Now if we may?” the professor’s curt voice took control of the class.

“Groping,” Nino mumbled. “He calls one little hug groping.” He pulled out a composition that Madame Mendeleiev had assigned just that morning. “I’d like to show him groping.”

He was startled out of his grumbling when Alya whispered, “Me, too.”

Only three more weeks and I’m out of this class and I never have to see this man’s stupid face again, Nino thought to himself. At least after today it’s just student presentations before the final.

They had finally reached the Contemporary Era and the man was butchering even the easiest movements! And don’t get him started on the composers. He’d wasted over half the lecture trying to explain that Richard Wagner wasn’t really an antisemite, but that Nazi sympathizers, mainly Adolf himself, just liked his music so much and thought it expressed National Ideals perfectly! The man wasn’t even a composer in Contemporary times!

And that just served to take time away from some real pioneers of the era like Laura Anne Karpman whose music can be found literally anywhere. Or what about Meredith Monk who includes operas amongst her compositions, since Doctor Agreste seemed to be hung up over Wagner’s damn Ring Cycle. Of course he didn’t mention Yihan Chen the brilliant Chinese pianist and composer. And though the man would fawn and dote on child prodigies like Wolfgang Mozart all day, he wouldn’t give the time of day to “Bluejay” Greenberg who could hear several compositions in his head at the same time and then be able to write them with minimal correction.

Just, UGH!

Nino was done with this entitled little man and the racist ideology he’s attempting to spread about. He was certainly spreading something, but it smelled more like fertilizer than anything else to Nino’s mind.

He could tell that Alya was concerned about his agitation, he’d been clenching his pencil so hard he heard it crack, but he refused to look in her direction. She had a great talent for sniffing out these kinds of things and if he looked at her right now, he’d probably see his frustration reflected on her face and do something dumb- like start an uprising in the middle of class. He really couldn't afford to take this class again.

As soon as they were out the doors Alya started ranting about how it was obvious that Doctor Agreste didn’t even bother to check Wikipedia for sources. She made her opinion known that the good doctor didn’t like the era because more people were included in writing and performing it rather than just white, Western-European men who were either wealthy or had wealthy patrons. And stopped mid rant.

Nino looked at her and watched as Alya got an idea. By the look on her face it was a genius idea: an Evil and Genius idea if the cackle was anything to go by.

“Whatever you’re planning, I’m in,” he declared.

“I haven’t even told you my idea yet.”

“I can tell by your expression alone that it’s going to be the best idea ever,” he said with a smirk. “So want to let me in on our plan?”

She explained her idea and Nino’s eyes lit up.

“Oh, that man is going to regret crossing paths with us,” he chuckled. “Can you come over tonight? I’ve got plenty of stuff we’d need for the music portion of the presentation.”

She shook her head. “I need at least one day to fact-check my notes and another to find accurate sources. Are you busy Saturday?”

Nino thought for a moment. “I’m free in the morning, but I have a wedding I’m playing for in the evening.”

“Okay that gives me a little more time for research.” She smiled up at him. “So, Saturday morning we’ll meet up to pull things together?”

Nino nodded in agreement.

“Great,” she said, “That’ll give us Sunday to type up the report and Monday to practice for our presentation on Tuesday.”

“Tell me the truth, Alya,” Nino looked at her, “Is this too much? Are we crazy to put together a spite presentation in one weekend? At the end of the semester?” He brushed a bit of her hair out of her face and tucked it carefully behind her ear. “You already have so much to do for all your other classes. I don’t want this to be something that stresses you out or makes you do something that hurts you.”

Alya reached up and patted his cheek before replying.

“Nino this is going to be so much fun that I doubt I’ll even notice how much work it is,” she grinned at him fully. “I might pull an allnighter here or there, but I promise you that I’m taking care to not do too much. I wouldn’t have suggested this if I didn’t think we could do it.”

He held her gaze for a moment then sighed.

“Okay, let’s ruin this man’s whole career.”

She laughed loud and pulled him toward the school’s cafe. Obviously this called for copious amounts of snacks and his precious bubble tea.

Tuesday dawned bright and clear. A perfect day to teach about the subtleties of Contemporary music while simultaneously displaying the ignorance and prejudice of the most hated music teacher on campus. Nino sipped at his Thai tea with coffee pudding as he contemplated Alya’s plan of attack. It was a nice simple plan, but it needed something. Seeing a familiar outline hurrying across campus brought a smile to his face. The final nail in Doctor Agreste’s coffin just made itself known. He hurried across the quad to see if he could catch up with Madame before she reached her office.

An hour later he stood at the podium inserting the thumb drive into the computer for the projector.

“Good morning everyone,” Alya began. “As you all know we’ve had to jump over and through many musical ages and movements. That meant we had to skim through a lot of really interesting information. Nino and I decided to do a little bit of music through the ages for the Contemporary Era for you all. Now, get ready to get funky!”

That was his cue. He started the Powerpoint and Richard Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” began to blast from the room’s speakers while Elmer Fudd stabbed a spear into the ground singing, “Kill the wabbit! Kill the wabbit!”

“Welcome to Neoromanticism,” he called to those present.

The presentation went off without a hitch. Madame Mendeleiev had managed to slip in before their presentation and had stayed to the end of class. It was with great delight that Nino watched the Dean of the Music Department approach Doctor Agreste and congratulate him on the quality of his students’ final presentations. She even approached Alya and complemented her on the amount of research she’d done to be ready for the day. Then she turned to him.

“An adequate presentation, Nino,” she said with no trace of humor in her words. “Your compilation was a little heavy on the electronic music and light on the serialism, but I suppose that’s only to be expected with where your interests lie,” she paused, “and in light of the time constraints.”

He gulped and nodded his head. He knew she’d pick up on that.

“Please, send me a copy of your presentation at your earliest convenience.”

His eyes snapped up from the floor to meet hers. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining the slight upturn to the corners of her mouth or not, so he chose not to comment on it.

“I think I might incorporate it into my opening lecture next semester,” she remarked so offhandedly that Nino was sure he was hearing things. “It’ll be an excellent introduction to modern music for the freshmen.” She nodded to him before moving off to catch professor Agreste on his way out the door.

Alya was grinning from ear to ear and practically vibrating where she stood. He turned to her and had a fraction of a second to brace for impact as she’d thrown herself in his direction. Her arms were around his waist as she pulled him into a hug. He returned the hug with matching enthusiasm.

“We did so good!” she squealed.

He looked down into her grinning face and returned the smile.

“Hell yeah, we did,” he replied. “This calls for a celebration.” It was only then that he realized he still had his arms around her shoulders. Then again she was still holding on to him. He pulled back but kept hold of her hands. “I know you have another class in an hour, but do you want to go get boba to celebrate?”

She smirked up at him. “Only if you’ll let me treat you to dinner at Sabine’s tonight.” She looked to the side as she added, “And then we could go check out that concert in the park you mentioned yesterday.”

His mouth suddenly went dry. That sounded a lot like an actual date. Like a real date with this girl he knew he’d started crushing on some time this semester. What else could he do?

“Sounds great, but you have to let me bring pizza and dessert to our study date on Thursday night.”

Her laugh sent a tingle down his spine. “It’s a date!”

#miraculous ladybug #djwifi #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #alya x nino #thedjwifizine #my writing

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canmom · 3 years ago

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post toku night impressions:

Immortals was, sadly, rather a mixed bag... on the face of it it’s hard to defend, but if you see it as doing a lot very consciously, you can find a more compelling reading (something I can credit to @lyravelocity who can certainly explicate it a lot better than me... but I will do my best!) It definitely felt like Singh was under orders to chase the coattails of 300 with a fair dash of LotR. the script revolved around reproductive anxieties - the baddie is obsessed with killing pregnant women and smashing peoples’ balls, many characters talk about ‘Hellenic’ children getting a future in a way that steers painfully close to the straight up reciting the Fourteen Words.

visually it’s a very strange grab-bag of motifs from across the “Western canon” - you have a Hellenic setting, a design sensibility that combines 60s ‘sword and sandal’ movie sets with Renaissance paintings and recent spectacle movies like indeed LotR and 300, the religious sentiments expressed by the characters have far more in common with Christian anxieties (why didn’t God help me? is he real?) than ancient Greek ones... and then there were plot elements that were narratively inexplicable, like the ocean being full of oil, but make a lot of sense to this reading. the villain likewise combines a bunch of War on Terror era fears: he’s against God the Greek gods, he wants to genocide us, he makes his army wear marks for Equality or something (although explicitly ‘human just like us’, they function in the film as just orcs); he’s so irrationally omnicidally hateful of life that to even think of negotiating is cowardice (and probably effeminate). so it overall starts to feel like rather a caricature of the modern imperial imaginary. yet the ‘reality’ of the Gods that we see portrays them in a pretty negative light: holding to a rather arbitrary non-intervention rule, and implicitly just jumped-up Titans, they appear near the end of the film only to pretty much all die in an orgy of violence that the film suggests will basically go on forever.

“that’s you, that is” is basically what I think you can take this movie as saying. as ever it’s unclear because it’s a big budget Hollywood movie and if that is what it’s going for, it definitely flew over most peoples’ heads. you could definitely say I’m giving it too much credit.

anyway, I have no such reservations about The Fall. fantastic movie full of visual inventiveness, which does a really good job of taking on how a story borne out of pain (even if, in this case, rather pathetic possessive pain, but that too is part of the point) can take on a huge amount of meaning to the people who receive it. incredible costuming, and incredible use of all those locations. the dynamic between Lee Pace and child actor Catinca Untaru is really sweet and genuine - those tricks paid off fully. and the darker direction of the story is much better suited than the neat endings of the other two of his films I’ve seen.

i was really struck by how deliberately he uses the camera - in an era that emphasises handheld shots and massive swooping CGI camera moves, it did a lot to show what can be done with a very simple choreographed track or pan. I loved the way the rather unimaginative concepts of Roy’s story, lifted from the generic Western he was trying to perform in, were fleshed out into this incredibly rich Indian-with-Spanish-inflections setting in Alexandria’s mind. I can see why some people would take some of the filmmaking tricks, like the abundance of match cuts, as overindulgence, but honestly I love that shit and it was a really cool way to draw out the shapes in the settings.

ironically I have less to say about it because it all just worked, there’s nothing really to defend, I’d just be effusively listing elements of the movie that I liked. it’s very interesting that Roy is obviously not a great guy at all, but that doesn’t matter for the effect his story has on Alexandria, who carries it with her long after she leaves the hospital, and imagines Roy in every stuntman she sees. I hope that the stories I end up telling, when I manage to connect up the circuits to process the things I find difficult into fiction, can one day have a similar effect on people.

#tarsem singh #toku tuesday #the fall #immortals

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sheliesshattered · 5 years ago

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This Isn’t A Ghost Story - Chapter 3

Whouffaldi non-canon AU. 8 chapters, will be about 32,000 words when complete. Rated Mature for heavier themes starting in this chapter, please contact me privately if you’re worried about triggering topics. Clara Oswald/Twelfth Doctor. Mystery, pining and angst with a happy ending. Available on AO3 under the same username and title. Updates every Friday.

This Isn’t A Ghost Story

Chapter 3: The Journal

Clara couldn’t sleep that night. Alone in her flat, she tossed and turned in bed, the day’s events replaying on a loop in her mind. The revelation of the identity of her ghost, the family secret he had spent almost a century protecting, her uncanny resemblance to her great-grandmother, it all felt like a complicated knot she needed to untangle. Beyond everything she’d learned, there was still more her ghost refused to tell her, and the thought nagged at her, keeping her awake.

Shortly after midnight she gave up on sleep, getting up and padding down the hall to her small sitting room. Given that it was early Sunday morning, she wouldn’t have to be up for work in a scant few hours, so if she was awake anyway she might as well do something useful. She flicked on the lamp closest to the sofa and pulled over the ancient box she’d brought from her Gran’s house, positioning it at the near end of the coffee table.

Before she left, she’d managed to extract a promise from her ghost that he wouldn’t burn down the house while she was away. But she still hadn’t completely trusted him alone with the box that had caused so much upset, so she’d loaded it into her car and brought it home with her, uncertain of exactly what she intended to do with it.

It’d been obvious that he was no more comfortable with the idea of her in sole possession of the box than she was with the thought of leaving it with him. You won’t stop digging until you’ve uncovered all the gory details, he had said to her, and she knew herself well enough to admit that he was probably right. Now that she knew of the existence of this box, she could hardly just let it be.

But it was more than simply feeling entitled to her family history. There was something there, some hidden edge of the mystery that called to her, something she felt like she should know. It wasn’t just her resemblance to her great-grandmother, or her attachment to her ghost, or his unwillingness to explain the situation to her. It’s more than that, and you know it, he’d told her. Deep down, you know it. And now it’s only a matter of time until you realise...

Clara shivered a little, remembering his words, more unnerved in the silence of her flat than she’d been when he’d first said them. Whatever this was, wherever this led, she had to know.

Glancing into the box, she picked up the wedding photograph from the top of the pile of papers and leaned towards the lamplight to examine it again. It was less disconcerting than it had been earlier, now that she knew some of the context behind it, but it was still odd to see her own face in a photo taken more than ninety years ago, in the spring of 1923. Staring at it, she was struck again by the feeling of what should have been, of how fiercely she wished it was her in that photo, marrying the man she loved.

But it wasn’t her in the photo. It couldn’t possibly be her, no matter how much it looked like her and no matter how much she wished it was. Perhaps getting to know the woman depicted there, her great-grandmother and namesake, would help her shake the feeling that somewhere along the line, fate had gone horribly awry. With that thought firmly in mind, she reached into the box and began pulling items from it.

There was no sense of order to the box, but as she dug through it, Clara began to suspect that it was the contents of her great-grandmother’s writing desk, quickly and haphazardly transferred to the box, however long ago. It was a mix of correspondence and shopping lists, photographs and small pieces of memorabilia, all jumbled together, fragile with age. She took each item out one by one, sorting them into piles as she went — a stack for photos, another for letters, a third for keepsakes, and a smaller pile for the ephemera of everyday life, things she probably didn’t need to keep. She could spend tomorrow going through them in more detail, reading the letters and looking at the photos in the light of day.

At the bottom of the box she found what appeared to be a well-loved brown leather travel journal, thick with envelopes and postcards and loose leafs of paper fitted between the pages. The front was emblazoned with a globe and the words 101 Places To See. She smiled softly, running her fingertips over its dips and ridges, and thought of her own brief travels after university. When her Dad had balked at the idea of her travelling on her own, her Gran had declared it a family tradition for the women in their family to travel. Apparently it was one that went back further than Clara realised.

Curious about the sorts of travels her namesake had chosen, she leaned closer to the lamp and opened the journal to the first entry, written in the same small, looping handwriting as on the back of the wedding photo:

1 March 1921, London

I purchased this journal for my upcoming holiday, but I fear the title may be more aspirational than factual. Mother and Father have agreed to allow me a solo European tour, perhaps under the mistaken belief that giving me that much freedom will quench my thirst for more far-flung adventures. If they knew of my ambitions, they would certainly forbid me from leaving home at all. We shall see how far I can get on the stipend they have gifted me, before their disapproval catches up with me.

A family tradition indeed, Clara thought, smiling wider, and flipped ahead a few pages.

16 March 1921, Paris

Paris is lovely, if not so very different from London. It is, however, an excellent hub from which to book further travel...

The next several pages were devoted to cataloguing life in Paris in the early ‘20s, an era that had fascinated Clara during her literature studies at university. She scanned through the entries on the off-chance that her great-grandmother might have crossed paths with a famous name during her time there. Seeing none, she ran her thumb along the outer edge of the pages to jump further ahead and get an idea of where she had gone after Paris.

Of its own accord, the journal opened to a place where a small sepia photograph had been wedged between the pages, and Clara carefully prised it free to examine it closer. Though it wasn’t nearly as crisp as the wedding photo, the two figures in it were instantly identifiable as her ghost and her great-grandmother. They stood side by side, her arm slung around his back and his draped over her shoulders, smiling at the camera and squinting in bright sunlight, a desert landscape rolling away behind them. Surprised, she turned it over to find her great-grandmother’s handwriting on the back had labeled it Doctor John Smith, Thebes Egypt, 19 May 1921.

Egypt? Her curiosity piqued, Clara backtracked a few pages to try to find the context of the photo, and when exactly her ghost had first entered her great-grandmother’s life.

2 May 1921, Cairo

Egypt is enthralling, everything I had dreamed it would be. Thankfully I find I am able to stretch my budget further here than I could on the continent. I sent my last letter home from Athens, and carefully did not mention my future plans — my hope is that I can spend a few weeks here before returning to Europe via Malta and then on to Italy, and Mother and Father will never be the wiser. To that end (and to ensure I don’t run out of funds and thus be forced to resort to begging parental assistance), I have already booked passage aboard a ship departing in three weeks.

The next few days detailed her sightseeing in and around Cairo, and Clara scanned ahead until her eyes caught on an entry almost two weeks later:

14 May 1921, Cairo

I met the most fantastic and intriguing man at the museum party last night! We spoke like old friends for near an hour and a half before he was pulled away by his compatriots, and it was only after he was gone that I realised we did not so much as exchange names. At the time, names felt superfluous, secondary to my desire to know him, but this morning I find myself wishing I could put a name to the face that hasn’t left my mind these last twelve hours.

He is Scottish, an academic of some description, though his interests and expertise seem so wide ranging, I can hardly guess at what his specialty might be. His has the nose of a Roman emperor, more regal than the bust of Marcus Aurelius that lives on the shelf in my bedroom back home, but recently burnt to peeling by the hot desert sun in a way I found entirely too endearing. There is no question that he is significantly older than myself, but he carries none of the condescension I typically associate with such an age difference. He showed more than polite interest in hearing of my travels and my thoughts on all that I have seen, and in exchange told me stories of his many adventures.

He is exactly the sort of kindred spirit I have for so long dreamed of knowing, and yet I know no hard facts about him at all. I don’t suppose we will ever meet again — and isn’t that sad? To have met someone as singular as him, spent an hour and a half in one another’s company, only to be forever lost to each other in the shuffle of humanity. At least he will be a fond memory of my time in Cairo.

Gripped by this introduction to the ghost she had known all her life and the man she had never had the chance to meet, Clara turned the page and read on.

15 May 1921, Cairo

I wrote yesterday that I know no hard facts about the man I met at the museum party, but on reflection I find that isn’t entirely true. His friends called him only ‘Doctor’, though that hardly narrows down his identity, with so many educated men roaming about the country. He has lived in Egypt for several years, can read ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics, and mentioned he was in Cairo on a brief respite from some activity in Thebes, on which he did not go into detail.

But a ‘brief respite’, by definition, should mean that he will return to Thebes, shouldn’t it? And then there is the matter of his sunburnt nose...

The on-going archaeological work at Thebes is widely known in Cairo, especially amongst those who frequent the museum. Could it be that this ‘Doctor’, this man who has not left my thoughts since Friday evening, could now be found in Thebes? I so wish to see him again, even if only to exchange our names and other such information, so that I might send him a postcard from time to time. And perhaps more, if he is agreeable.

And if he is not to be found in Thebes, at least I will have tried. I will be able to board the ship to Malta knowing that at least I tried to find him.

Despite knowing that her great-grandmother would, inevitably, cross paths again with the man who would become her husband, Clara read on without pause, enthralled by the unfolding drama.

17 May 1921, en route

I have left Cairo for Thebes, though it may well mean I will miss my ship to Malta. He has not been out of my thoughts, and I find I cannot wait any longer. I cannot talk myself out of this. And if there were anyone in a position in my life to talk me out of it, I would not let them, either. My mind is made up.

An adventure, then. To see the archaeological work at Thebes, and perhaps recognise a friendly face. I do hope his sunburn has not got any worse.

The next entry, adjacent to where the photograph had been tucked away, read simply:

19 May 1921, Thebes

His name is John, and I am besotted. I fear I may never recover.

Clara set the journal down in her lap and picked up the photo, looking again at their smiling faces. She tried to imagine it, meeting an interesting stranger and then striking out into the unknown, alone, on the hope of finding him again. Studying the picture, she could almost feel the desert sun on her face, and the giddy joy of new love. In just under two years, they would be married, but it had begun there, with a conversation in the Cairo museum and her great-grandmother’s bold decision to follow him to Thebes.

In the spring of 1921, she would have been just barely twenty-two years old, and Clara couldn’t help but wonder about the age of her ghost. He looked so unchanged in the photographs she had seen, the length of his salt and pepper hair the only thing that indicated any passage of time. He had always been ageless to her, but her namesake had commented on the age difference, and as she neared twenty-eight herself, Clara had to admit that he still looked significantly older than her. In his forties, easily, perhaps fifties. He’d told her that if she dug into the paperwork she would find him there, and she decided to look into it in the morning, see what information could be gleaned from genealogical websites and the like, since he’d always shown such unwillingness to answer any sort of personal question.

She turned back to the journal, curious where their story had gone in the two years between meeting and marrying. The next section was filled to bulging with postcards and envelopes tucked between the pages — a period of extensive correspondence, clearly. Clara hesitated. Reading her great-grandmother’s travel journal was one thing, but in the current moment, alone in the post-midnight silence of her flat, she wasn’t sure she could bear to read the letters her ghost had written to his future wife as they fell in love. Instead, she flipped through quickly until she reached the last of the postcards, and then read the first journal entry that followed it.

4 March 1923, London

He is in Glasgow! After all these months of correspondence, of knowing my true feelings but being unwilling to divulge them via the impersonal medium of paper, the Doctor is no more than a train ride away. And yet after the fiasco of my extended stay in Egypt in ‘21, I cannot imagine that Mother and Father will react well to my desire to go to Scotland to see him.

His postcard did not say how long he plans to be in Glasgow, only that letters sent to the university there might reach him faster than if sent via the normal address. I worry that he will be this close by for only a short time. With all the news out of the Valley of the Kings these last few months, I don’t expect he will stay in dreary old Scotland for long.

I’m afraid that if I don’t seize this opportunity, I will never get another chance to tell him of my feelings for him in person. I worry that if I ask to go, Mother and Father will not permit it, and that if I take the initiative and go without asking, they will never forgive me.

And I am afraid that the Doctor does not love me as I love him, that he won’t be able to see past the differences in our ages to all that we could be, the life that we could build together. I worry that in running off to see him, I will destroy not only my relationship with my parents, but also my friendship with him.

What fear should I let rule me? Which worry is the most likely to be true?

No.

Instead, better questions: How will I live with myself if I let myself be ruled by fear? If I do not live by the truth of my heart, how can I live at all?

I will follow him to Glasgow, as I followed him to Thebes. Let me be brave. Let the fates do as they will.

The next entry was written a few days later, detailing her clandestine departure from home and the long train journey from London to Glasgow, peppered with her simmering fears at how her unannounced arrival would be greeted by the Doctor. Her worry and her longing were palpable, and Clara felt an odd sort of kinship with this woman, her great-grandmother and namesake, as she abandoned everything in her life on the chance to be with the man she loved. She had never done anything like it herself — she had never felt that strongly about anyone, besides her ghost �� but somehow it felt like something she would do.

She turned the page, looking for their reunion, but found that the next entry was dated weeks later.

28 March 1923, Glasgow

The days have been too full and too happy to find a scrap of time to add my thoughts here, so in short: one of my fears was unfounded, the other not.

The Doctor loves me as I love him. It is the truth that will chart the course of our lives together, from now until the stars all burn from the sky.

And Mother and Father will never forgive me.

The pages that followed were filled with hastily jotted down notes, interspersed with little keepsakes: a visitor’s guide to the Kelvingrove art museum, a program from an orchestral performance, a short love letter scrawled on university stationary in handwriting Clara had to assume belonged to her ghost. She folded that one back up without reading it, then skipped ahead to the date on the back of the wedding photo and found that her great-grandmother had written:

12 May 1923, Glasgow

Tomorrow we will make our farewells to Scotland and start the long journey south to Egypt, but today marks the beginning of a different and far greater adventure: marriage!

It will be a very small wedding, with only a few of the Doctor’s friends and cousins in attendance, but I find I do not care. I get to keep him, and any other concerns fade out of existence in the blinding light of that fact.

Tomorrow will also be two years since our first meeting in Cairo, and I am looking forward to revisiting the scene of that fateful interaction, this time as a married woman. How wonderful it is to have not lost that intriguing stranger to the shuffle of humanity, after all.

The journal shifted in tone after that, chronicling their journey from Glasgow to Cairo and the beginnings of their life together in Egypt, as the Doctor returned to his archaeological work in the field. In the summer of ‘23, her great-grandmother decided to take up drawing, and many of the pages that followed were filled with pencil sketches of the monuments of Egypt, the series of small homes they lived in, and the familiar face of her ghost, growing ever more accurate as her skill improved.

Clara thought of her own childhood habit of sketching his face on any blank corner of paper she could find, and wondered how they might compare. Her great-grandmother’s drawings were occasionally dated, and by the spring of 1925, the journal shifted back to being more of a travelogue again, though the entries were more sparse than they had been before, and sketches continued to fill the margins.

15 June 1925, London

Even in the height of summer, London feels grim and drab after two years in Egypt. When I said as much, the Doctor merely laughed and pointed out that it could be worse: it could be Glasgow. He has spent so many years now, off and on, living in Egypt, moving from dig site to dig site as the work demands, and I think he is ready for a more settled existence for a while. The position at the British Museum suits him well, and will provide us with a more stable foundation on which to build our life — and as much as I enjoyed our transient circumstances in Egypt, there is a certain allure to building something lasting together. A new sort of adventure.

I had hoped that with our return to London, and after two years of marriage, Mother and Father might have found a way to forgive me, but it seems that door is forever closed. I am determined to focus on the future instead, and on the family the Doctor and I mean to create together.

Reading that, Clara felt a pang of heartsickness for this woman she had never known. She had been close with both of her parents before their deaths, and was grateful to have had that time with them. She couldn’t imagine her parents being so angry with her that they would shut her out of their lives, but scanning ahead, she didn’t see any indication that her namesake’s parents had ever relented. Instead, the journal dealt with the process of settling back into life in London, and her great-grandmother’s dreams for the future, with small sketches peppering the edges of each page.

As she turned the pages, Clara’s eyes caught on the rare use of colour in one of her drawings, and with a surprised blink she realised she recognised it as the stained glass window over the front door of her Gran’s house. The journal entry beside the drawing read:

1 August 1925, London

The House, as I have determined it must always be called, is a ridiculous rambling Victorian thing, all gabled roofs and ornate woodwork and stained glass windows, such as the one I have drawn here. It is entirely too large for the two of us, but it was love at first sight for both the Doctor and myself, and no house we have considered since has compared. At least there will be enough room for our ever-growing legion of books. And there are several bedrooms — perhaps it is too ambitious of me to imagine them someday filled, but despite all our failed efforts, I remain hopeful.

Having dealt so closely with her Gran’s personal details the last few weeks, Clara knew that she would be born barely three years later, in late August of 1928. Her great-grandmother died only a few months after that, and it felt strange to read of her hopes for a large family, knowing it didn’t happen in the end. Through reading her journal, it had become clear to Clara that they were alike in many ways, but on that one point they couldn’t be more different. She enjoyed children, she wouldn’t have become a teacher if she didn’t, but she’d never felt drawn to motherhood. She was almost the same age as her namesake had been when her Gran was born, and she couldn’t imagine having a baby now, much less hoping for multiple children.

Of course, she wondered if she might feel differently if she’d had the sort of fairy tale romance her great-grandmother had had. Starting a family with someone she loved felt a lot less abstract than the vague idea of having a baby. Maybe that was the difference. She could certainly understand her great-grandmother wanting children with the Doctor—

At that thought, it all came back to her in a rush, everything her ghost had revealed that afternoon, the truth of her Gran’s parentage — and with it, one of the few facts about him that she’d managed to wring out of him as a child. With dread turning her stomach, Clara quickly flipped ahead to the autumn of 1927, scanning the journal entries for any indication, any clue. There was a brief note in early November about plans for Christmas, but then nothing until:

1 December 1927

He is gone. He is gone, and I will never, ever recover.

The bruises may heal, but I will not.

Tears sprung to Clara’s eyes, but she blinked them away, reading on.

8 December 1927

Is it the House that is haunted, or me?

She stared at the words, knowing that almost eighty-seven years later, the house was very much haunted. She turned the page, feeling the tears begin to roll down her face.

12 December 1927

Perhaps it is only my mind playing tricks on me, but perhaps it is something more. Perhaps there is some magic that ties us together even now. I live in hope — for what other way is there to live, now?

The following pages were full of nothing but undated sketches of the Doctor, looking exactly as Clara knew him. I made that promise to the only person I’ve spoken to since my death. The only one who could ever see me, her ghost had told her, not twelve hours earlier. Gripped with the need to know, she turned the journal pages quickly, looking for her great-grandmother’s familiar handwriting amongst all the drawings of her ghost, until finally:

3 February 1928

I have counted out the days and counted them again. My memory of last November is far from clear, but there is no mistake in this: I am with child. And this is no parting gift, no consolation prize from the universe, only one more tragedy to heap onto the pile. This baby will not have the Doctor’s eyes or his smile or his laugh. This baby—

How am I to endure this? Alone in the House we had hoped to fill, how can I possibly find the strength to face what is to come?

I continue to dream of him, to have visions, even. Some days I fear I have gone mad with the grief, but other days, those visions are my only comfort, those dreams my only reprieve from the nightmares that plague me. Something in my heart refuses to believe that the Doctor is truly gone. Something compels me to speak to him, and hope that he will, somehow, impossible though it may be, hear me and respond.

And then:

8 February 1928

They are not visions, and I am not mad.

But more importantly — I am no longer alone.

Clara set down the journal, taking a moment to swipe at the tears on her face. She had known, deep down she had known that she would find only pain at the end of this story, and yet she hadn’t been able to stop herself. I know you won’t stop digging until you’ve uncovered all the gory details, he’d said to her, and he’d been right, of course he’d been right. Her ghost had tried to protect her from this, but she had charged ahead anyway, disregarding his warnings.

And that edge of the mystery still called to her, the unanswered questions still nagged at her. However much it hurt, she had to know. Picking up the journal again, she skipped ahead, flipping pages until she reached her Gran’s birthday.

21 August 1928

It is a girl. I have named her Margaret Eleanor, as we so long discussed. Our little Margot. None of this is her fault, and I do not love her less for it. I only wish I could love her more. I wish my heart were still capable of it. I wish I could have greeted her arrival with the joy she deserves. I wish I didn’t have to welcome her into the world alone.

The more days pass, the more I am convinced the Doctor meant what he said as a final goodbye. The last six months with him have revived me in a way I didn’t think possible, and to have that ripped away, to once again be facing the prospect of a future without him—

‘You are stronger than you know,’ he told me, and I wish I could believe it.

Even more, I wish he was still here. In whatever form, I wish he was here. Perhaps in time I will see him again. I must hold to that hope, for it is the last one I have.

The journal entries stopped after that, and again the pages were filled with sketches: a round-faced newborn with wispy hair, bits of the house that Clara recognised easily, and the Doctor, always the Doctor.

Turning the pages quickly, she came across one last entry in the journal, the following pages all blank. Her great-grandmother’s familiar handwriting was no longer small, neat loops, but instead scrawled wide with anguish, and Clara felt her heart skip a beat at the date at the top of the page.

23 November 1928

Where have you gone, my love? Why have you left me?

I suppose I cannot fault the dead for not keeping their promises. You did not choose this fate for us, and I do not blame you for it. I only wish it could have been different. I wish that we had a second chance at life, a second chance to build for ourselves everything we dreamed our life together could be.

I cannot live like this. I will not.

I will follow you, my love, wherever it is that you have gone. Wherever you are now, I will find you. As I followed you to Thebes and to Glasgow, I will follow you now.

I will see you again.

Wait for me.

Clara stared in horror at the final words on the page. Seized with a sudden nauseous dread, she dropped the journal on the coffee table and bolted up from the sofa, lurching towards her laptop on the desk across the room. Her hands trembled as she pulled up a search page, pouring out every scrap of relevant family information she could think of, ending with 23 November 1928 suicide.

The internet, that modern wonder, took only moments to confirm her fears. Tears filled her eyes again, blurring the screen in front of her, but she fumbled her way through printing the eighty-six year old coroner's report. She snatched up the paper still warm, jammed her feet into her trainers and pulled on a coat, grabbed her keys and her purse, and was out the door before she could change her mind.

Chapter 4: The Past

#Whouffaldi #Twelve/Clara #Clara Oswald/Twelfth Doctor #Twelfth Doctor #Clara Oswald #Clara and the Doctor #Doctor Who #Doctor Who fanfic #This Isn't A Ghost Story #This Isn't A Ghost Story chapters #my writing #available on AO3 under the same title and username #please comment and reblog!

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365days365movies · 4 years ago

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April 1, 2021: The Gold Rush (Review)

This is a classic silent film...and that doesn’t make this easy.

This is the first silent film that I’ve covered in this blog. Not the first I’ve ever seen, of course, but the first that I’ve ever had to sit down and review like this. So, before I jump into attempting to judge this film on my own merits, I have a couple things to say. First things first...why didn’t I choose The Kid, Chaplin’s first feature-length comedy film? Why The Gold Rush instead?

Well, chief amongst those reasons is simply the fact that I think this one is more important for me to watch. It’s Chaplin’s third film, he’s already an established star, and he was able to exert a lot of creative influence on this one, making this a good pick to view him as an auteur. It’s lauded as his best film by most people, and it produced one of the most famous scenes in film history (the bread roll dance scene). To be honest...I thought that it would be weirder having not seen this film, and it would be having not seen The Kid. That make any sense? It’s weird, I know.

That’s not to say the The Gold Rush is the last Chaplin movie I’ll ever see. Hell, this month, I have TWO MORE on my list, although we’ll see if I inevitably decide to watch them. I think I will, though, because they’ve been on my list for a while. Although, I’ll have to decide between City Lights and Modern Times...hmmm. We’ll see.

The other thing I want to address is what happened to Chaplin around this time. I hinted at it in the Recap, but I want to elucidate further here. In 1919, Chaplin came up with his plan to make his own film studio, uniting with famous director D.W. Griffith, and famous silent film actress Mary Pickford. This became United Artists, and was meant to allow actors to control their careers and interests, instead of relying on larger studios. And in case you weren’t sure, this studio is indeed still around! Their next film?

Oh, yeah, these are the Bond guys! What was their last film?

Ah. Well. That’s too bad. They also work with LAIKA and MGM, control the Rocky/Creed franchise alongside Bond, and are a pretty successful studio, all things considered! As for Chaplin, he made films with UA starting in 1923, with A Woman in Paris, and ending in 1952, with Limelight. He made 2 more films after this, but I’ll talk about that at a later date.

Once The Kid came out, Chaplin’s studio was a success, and he was a millionaire, and had been married to actress Mildred Harris, with whom he had a child when she was...16, oh NOOOO. That child sadly died a few days later, but their marriage persisted for 2 years, before ending quite bitterly in 1920. Chaplin wasn’t the best partner. But, losing his child ended up fueling his work on The Kid, which was a smash-hit. He wrote a book, he got engaged, he stopped being engaged when he straight-up ghosted that girl, and he filmed the drama A Woman in Paris with UA, and it was another reflection about his life, being about ill-fated lovers. It didn’t do very well.

That was made WAY worse by personal circumstances with newest wife, Lita Grey. Also 16 when they married (compared to Chaplin’s 35, BIG FUCKIN’ YIKES), this was a shotgun wedding of sorts, spurred on by an unexpected pregnancy. The two wed during the end of the production of The Gold Rush. Grey, by the way, was in The Kid, and was ORIGINALLY Georgia in The Gold Rush. But this is Chaplin we’re talking about, of COURSE this marriage was terrible.

See, they ended up having 2 kids within less than a year, because Chaplin was...Chaplin. But Charles HATED spending time with Lita, and spent most of his time away from her at the studio. The Gold Rush replaced Lita for Georgia Hale (an admirer of Chaplin since she was young), and the film was a massive success. And the marriage to Lita ended in a FIERCE divorce, which resulted in Lita taking the kids and leaving a year later in 1926. And that divorce was huge news...but I think I’ll wait to talk about that later.

Let’s get into...oh, God, she was ELEVEN when they started working together on The Kid, and they had a kid together FIVE YEARS LATER??? GROSS, DUDE.

...Let’s get into the Review.

Review

Cast and Acting: 8/10

Charlie Chaplin is, well, Charlie Chaplin. He’s keyed into his role more than anybody else in history, and the Tramp/Prospector shines here, unsurprisingly. Chaplin’s basically perfect, and for all of his IMMENSE faults as a human being, his acting in this film certainly isn’t amongst them. All credit where credit’s due, honestly. But, OK, everybody else? Honestly, pretty good! I’m not accustomed to judging silent performance, ESPECIALLY in a comedy, so the visual performances are almost all fantastic. But if you want a liiiiiiiittle nitpicking...Georgia Hale is a little stiff at times, Mack Swain is a little over-the-top occasionally, and Tom Murray is just...there. These are extremely minor, but compared to Chaplin, they don’t QUITE measure up. To be fair, though, this is basically nitpicking.

Plot and Writing: 9/10

A comedy’s strength is in its writing, which I argued in my little dissection of the comedy “genre�� (you can check that our right here, if you want), as well as the performance of that writing. Which is why silent films are...complicated. So, instead, my target has to be the execution of the plot and story. And...yeah, it’s a straightforward plot, understandable story, no real strain here at any turn. It’s a good story, and Charlie Chaplin (of course) does a good job with it. Apparently, he really WAS inspired by the story of the Donner Party (meaning that the choice to film in Truckee MUST have been on purpose), which is why I KNEW that shoe-eating thing seemed familiar. The Donner Party did the exact same thing with their shoes! Y’know, before eating each other, of course. But this was a well-written story, with more complexity than expected. Or possibly necessary, because Larsen really didn’t need to be here for the plot to work. That is a little weird for me, but I also understand why he was included. Again, nitpicking all over the place.

Directing and Cinematography: 10/10

No nitpicking for me here! Charlie Chaplin is a famously good director, and this is a great example of his work. Very typical for the time, sure, and mostly just perfunctory, but it’s still a well-directed film. Cinematography was surprisingly Roland Totheroth, and not Chaplin! Not that Totheroth was a slouch either. Ol’ Rollie (as he was often billed) is one of Charlie Chaplin’s most ardent comrades (ha...communism. That will...that’ll make sense later), and accompanied him as cinematographer and camera operator for over 30 films. And this is another great example of his work!

Production and Art Design: 10/10

If Chaplin wanted to recreate arctic boomtowns and desolate cabins...gotta say, he nailed it. This looks great, and the setting feels quite authentic, all things considered. For 1925, I think Chaplin exceeds expectations here. Now, granted, there are films from this time period that have really hefty production budgets, but this one is still a great looking film regardless of that. Again, credit where credit’s due.

Music and Editing: 9/10

Funny thing; the 1940s reissue of this film had different music added to it, because Chaplin wanted different music on it, and a lot of people who say they like that release say that the music is better. Which is interesting, because I REALLY liked the music in this movie! Using covers of classical music works quite well, I think, and the original tracks are pretty great as well. I mean, just looking at the dancing rolls GIF up there reminds me of the sprightly tune accompanying it. And that music was selected by, big surprise, Charlie Chaplin. He’s not the only person involved, of course, but he was a major part of this choice. And yes, he was ALSO the editor for the film! Geez, dude wore many black bowler hats, huh? Well, that docked point is for the slightly off editing in a few scenes, but it’s really not bad. This is once again me nitpicking.

94%, and it’s worth every digit, and more!

This is one of the great American classic films (ironically made by a British filmmaker), and it’s a movie that should be seen by everybody at least once. Is it my favorite comedy? FUCK NO IT AIN’T. But mostly, that’s because this film is funny...but that’s not where its charm lies. It’s not nearly as funny as many comedies I’ve previously covered, but it has a HELL of a lot of heart to go with it. It’s a worthy film on its own merits, divorced from the normal trappings of comedies. You can literally find the film, THE ENTIRE FILM, on Wikipedia. So check it out!

But for now, let’s move from the Tramp to another dynamo of the Silent Era. And yeah, we have a few more people from this time period to cover. Isn’t that right, Buster?

April 2, 2021: The General (1926), dir. Buster Keaton

#the gold rush #the gold rush 1925 #charlie chaplin #the tramp #the lone prospector #mack swain #tom murray #malcolm waite #georgia hale #henry bergman #comedy april #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365days365movies #365 movies a year

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cawfulopinions · 5 years ago

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Persona 4 Golden and the Problem of Appealing to a Wider Audience

I’ve been questioning how to go about writing this essay ever since I first finished Persona 4 Golden back in 2013. When I first finished the game, I came out of it not liking it very much – mechanically, it felt unbalanced; and writing-wise, I found it poorer than its original. My opinions on the game have shifted somewhat since then, helped along by the release of Persona 5 and the realization that many of the game’s mechanics were testbeds for that game. However, with time, I’ve found that I can articulate a lot of the problems Golden has with its writing a lot better. What I’ve ultimately settled on is looking at the Persona 4 we were originally given, then looking at its rerelease, and seeing what changed there and why I didn’t like it. Let’s jump in, shall we?

(Note: There will be complaining about Marie. My opinions on that subject sure as hell haven’t changed in the past seven years. Also, there will obviously be spoilers.)

I. A Brief History of Persona 4 as a Franchise

Shin Megami Tensei: Persona 4 (later spinoffs would drop the subtitle) released in the west in 2008 as a follow-up to the very strange (at the time) and very niche Shin Megami Tensei: Persona 3. Persona 3 was notable for deciding to go for an urban setting, an avant-garde aesthetic, and heavy philosophical themes, something that was rare for RPGs before 2010 (though not for its own franchise). While Persona 4 kept the philosophical focus of Persona 3, it decided to dial back some of the artsier aspects in favor of a more down-to-earth, focused story. Where P3 told a story about the inevitability of death and took place in a very modern Japanese setting, P4 decides to tell a story about the lies we tell ourselves and takes place in a rustic, rural setting.

Some of the first things that Persona 4 tells you after getting to its setting, Inaba, are that the town really only has one tourist attraction, it’s far from anywhere of real note, and its local businesses are all being driven out of business by the construction of a corporate superstore. It’s relatable, particularly to anyone who’s watched their local mom-and-pops go out of business after a Wal-Mart decided to move in.

The tone of this setting permeates through Persona 4 – all of its characters are pretty down-to-earth, and though there’s some cartoonish exaggeration in their writing, they feel more like real people than your average RPG character. Yosuke is the new kid in town who struggles with feelings of inferiority, something that’s not helped by his dad running the superstore that’s driving everyone out of business. Naoto is a girl with aspirations of becoming a detective, but hides her gender out of a belief that if she does so, she’ll be taken more seriously by the male-dominated police force. Even the game’s idol character, Rise, is someone who quit the business because the pressures of the idol industry became too much for her. Most games would take the opportunity to have an idol character written into the cast as an excuse for a pandering song and dance sequence and to play up her “waifu” aspects. Persona 4 spends the first hour after Rise’s introduced having her in and apron and slacks, serving tofu, and dodging paparazzi.

Persona 4 is not perfect in how it approaches its characters – in particular, Kanji and Naoto’s storylines have gotten a deserved level of flack for having essentially written coming-out stories for a gay man and a transman, and then immediately backing off and “no homo”-ing them. There’s a number of Social Links that end with the character deciding to go do the socially acceptable thing for them to do instead of following their own hearts, too – Yukiko’s comes to mind. But the character conflicts and stories told in the game’s Social Links are grounded and relatable.

The grounded-ness of Persona 4 was what really made it stand out in 2009, a time where RPGs and games as a whole were mostly concerned with showing off the cool things they could do with their engines (keep in mind, this was the early era of the PS3, and Persona 4 was a PS2 game). Looking back, it’s easy to realize that Persona 4 was made as grounded and rustic as it was because of budgetary concerns, but what was done with its limited budget was incredible. It looked at its setting and tone and embraced them, and that helped to make the game stronger.

And it worked! Persona 4 was easily Atlus’s biggest success in the PS2 era. Though the game was hard to find in the United States due to its short print run, it was inescapable online, and the early Let’s Play era helped keep it in the public eye. There’s a large number of people in the English fandom who only knew Persona 4 existed back in the day because of the hiimdaisy comic and the Giant Bomb Endurance Run. Meanwhile, the game was huge in Japan and topped sales charts for weeks.

Source: Gamasutra

And then Atlus almost went out of business! Oops!

Here’s what we know about Atlus at the time that Persona 4 came out: it wasn’t doing good. The PS2 Shin Megami Tensei games were all desperate attempts to try and find success, something that Persona director Katsura Hashino has been fairly public about in interviews. Dataminers examining the PS2 SMT games have found evidence that suggests every game was built on top of the previous, with every game using SMT: Nocturne’s models and basic gameplay system until after Persona 4’s release. Persona 3 and Persona 4 are so similar under the hood that model swap mods are everywhere for the two, with literally the only adjustments necessary being a reordering of animations to account for Persona 4 having a guard animation and Persona 3 not.

Persona 4 was a huge hit, but it wasn’t enough to save Atlus. The last games released under an independent Atlus were Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor (one of my personal favorites) and Shin Megami Tensei: Strange Journey (a massive failure for the company). Following Strange Journey’s release, long-time franchise artist (and, more importantly, producer and creative designer for Strange Journey) Kazuma Kaneko near entirely disappeared from future SMT titles, only credited for writing the scenario concept for SMTIV and as a demon design supervisor for later SMT titles.

Soon after Strange Journey’s failure, Atlus was snatched up by Index Corporation. Very little is known about the internal culture during the Index era, but evidence suggests that it wasn’t great. The first few games Atlus produced after this point were all remakes, save for the strange, marriage-drama focused Catherine, a game that was assuredly in development before Atlus was bought out.

It was the original games and spinoffs that Atlus produced after they were bought by Index that started to show a shift in tone. Devil Survivor 2 is a notably different game than its predecessor (which was made while Atlus was independent). While I won’t get into that too much here (that game’s worth an essay on its own), it decided to trade it’s classical SMT-style aesthetic for something more bombastic and widely-appealing. Many of the characters in that game are better summed up by what anime tropes they appeal to than by their own character arcs, and the game’s plot is an unsubtle ripoff of Neon Genesis Evangelion. And it worked. Devil Survivor 2 very notably sold better than its predecessor despite being a DS game in the 3DS era.

At around the same time as Devil Survivor 2 was released, Atlus was preparing to release the first anime adaptation of Persona 4. Persona 4: The Animation was released in October of 2011, directed by Seiji Kishi (of Angel Beats! fame) and animated by AIC. I’ll leave my thoughts on Seiji Kishi as a director out of this and focus on the content of Persona 4: The Animation instead.

Let’s get one thing out of the way. Persona 4: The Animation is a comedy anime.

The anime is a fairly faithful adaptation of the game in terms of plotline. It follows the game’s story to the letter, hitting every plot beat. When it needs to get serious, it gets serious, and when it nails its emotional beats, it nails them well. While I’ll go on record in saying that I flat out dislike the anime, I won’t deny that certain episodes, like the Nanako arc, are done very well. However, when it doesn’t need to be serious, the anime decides to look at Persona 4’s subtlety in its character arcs, and says, “Subtlety is for cowards.”

There’s an argument to be made that there isn’t time for subtlety in a 24-episode anime, which is why everyone’s character arcs needed to be compressed and character traits shaved down to only the most exaggerated bits. I disagree. You can easily show character without exaggeration in short-form media – the entire short story genre is built off of that exact concept. The decision to shave everyone down to their most basic traits was a decision made to make Persona 4 more accessible to a general anime-watching audience, who likely came in expecting a more action-packed, high energy deal.

And it worked.

For many people, Persona 4: The Animation was their first experience with Persona, period. The anime was incredibly popular, and it’s clear that at this point, Atlus (or, more likely, Index) realized they’d struck gold. Persona 4: The Animation was the start of a large spate of Persona 4 spinoffs, all of which adopting the character exaggerations of the anime in some form or fashion. Any time you see a scene in a P4 spinoff where Chie’s reduced to her love of meat and kung-fu? Blame the anime. Further original games after this point seemed to take a more mainstream shift as well – Shin Megami Tensei IV and its sequel, Apocalypse, are both very different games than their predecessors, with characters and plotlines seemingly written to appeal to Persona 4’s audience.

Atlus eventually managed to claw their way out from under the hand of Index, mostly because Index got caught up in a huge fraud investigation! Oops! Sega bought a whole bunch of Index at this point, and Atlus has more or less kept on trucking under Sega since. However, the shift in internal priorities hasn’t changed much – Persona 5, while still a good game, is much closer tonally to the games that came out under Index, Shin Megami Tensei V has been AWOL ever since its first preview, and the less said about Catherine Redux, the better.

II. Less is More, and Maybe Inaba Doesn’t Need A Nightclub

Which, after a long detour, brings us back to Persona 4 Golden.

Golden is a remake of Persona 4 with additional content, released for the Playstation Vita (RIP) during the height of its popularity in Japan. Like Persona 3 FES, a previous patch/remake for Persona 3, Golden primarily exists as a gameplay patch to Persona 4 with additional story content in places throughout the game. While most of FES’s additional story was segmented off into the controversial “The Answer” section, Golden’s additional content is peppered haphazardly throughout the game. Because of this integration into the main story, Golden’s issues are more pronounced than FES’s were – in FES, you could just not play “The Answer”. Golden isn’t letting you go home without at least pushing you toward Marie’s dungeon.

Golden feels like it was developed with an understanding that anyone who’s playing it has watched the anime, and decides to lean into chasing that mainstream appeal while also throwing out the intrigue of its plot and setting. This is first evidenced when you boot up the game and watch the opening. While it hits all of the same beats as Persona 4’s opening, Golden’s opening has a much cheerier tune to it, focusing on a dance sequence and colorful visuals instead of the larger tone of the game. It’s not like the Persona 4 opening is completely absent from the game, but you have to go out of your way to watch it, and first impressions are very important.

This change in opening tone is only one example of the general tone of the changes that Golden takes. While there are big issues with the game’s writing (specifically one big one, which, whooo boy, we’ll get to her), most of the issues are in the little things – the new gameplay elements, the new areas you can visit, and the new scenes that were added to the game.

I talked a lot about how important P4’s setting is to its game for a reason: most of Golden’s changes are ones that disrupt the carefully crafted tone and setting of the original game. From things like slice of life scenes about the party buying scooters for themselves, to a winter trip to a ski resort, to a goddamn idol concert on the roof of the supercenter driving everyone out of business, it feels like the game is trying to pull away from its rural setting and down-to-earth tone to appeal to the lowest common denominator: teenage boys who live in Japanese cities.

A big sticking point for me personally has always been that you can visit Okina City in Golden. In Persona 4, you visited the nearby city occasionally in social link events, but never explored it on the whole. It gave a sense that Okina City was somewhere inconvenient to go to – someplace worth going to for a day trip with your friends, but too out of the way to visit on the regular. In Golden, the city and all of its trappings are just a loading screen away. Having a larger setting change like this so easily accessible detracts from Inaba’s setting – it makes the anxieties that several characters have about being trapped by the town feel fake. It detracts from a feeling that’s so integral to the game’s tone.

Also, the first time you go there outside of a Social Link is because Yosuke wants to pick up chicks with his cool new motorcycle.

The first trip to Okina City is ultimately indicative of a larger problem with most of the added scenes in P4G have: because they were written after the anime, they’re written to appeal to anime watchers. You can immediately tell when you’ve entered a scene that is original to P4G because the writing almost immediately drops in quality – characters become less complex, scenes have nothing to do with the plot or character development, and, to be quite honest, the jokes get worse. The Okina City sequence ultimately just ends with a fat joke and another “no homo” moment with Kanji. It’s… really bad.

There’s four more of these additional sequences throughout the game, and they’re all similar slice of life sequences that rely on anime tropes to propel them. The next after this is a beach episode with the rest of your party. After that is the idol concert on the Junes roof, which gets a hastily written tie-in to the plot when an antagonist says that the concert was how he found the party. After that is the entire winter sequence of the game, which caps off with a ski resort trip that leads into the game’s extra dungeon (which we’ll get to), which THEN leads into the game’s second hot springs cutscene, which has even less purpose than the first one.

None of these scenes have any real substance – it feels like they were just included because they actually had the budget to include them this time around. It’s possible that Okina City and the nighttime areas in Inaba were originally intended for the original version of P4, and I’d believe it – the way nighttime jobs are implemented in the original version of the game is particularly awkward, and you visit Okina City enough times in Social Links that I fully believe it was intended for the full game. As for the idol concert sequence, it 100% only exists because they got Rie Kugimiya as Rise’s VA, but couldn’t fit a sequence where she sang into the original version of the game.

The problem is that these inclusions ultimately detract from the original story. They take a game with a pretty firm idea of what kind of tone it wanted to have and muddle it because, fuck that, we have a budget this time and we need more anime tropes, idols, and tsunderes for those kids who came in after watching the anime.

Which brings us to Persona 4 Golden’s biggest issues: its additional Social Links, the winter semester, and its new ending sequence.

III. We have to talk about Marie.

Like Persona 3 FES before it, Persona 4 Golden adds new Social Links to the game. The first of which is the Jester Social Link, which deals with Tohru Adachi, a local police officer and a major character. While I’ve never been a huge fan of this Social Link (I’ve always felt like it made the identity of the culprit too obvious), it’s fairly well received by the fanbase and I can see the argument for its inclusion, so I’m not going to spend time discussing it here.

The other is Golden’s new Aeon Social Link, who manages to encompass most of Golden’s issues in a single character.

Marie is a completely original character to Golden, the first of a long chain of Atlus “remake waifus” – characters who are added to a remake of a game that are intended to appeal to the otaku crowd, rarely fit in with the rest of the game, and introduce large changes to the game’s plot. These characters rarely work because the narrative wasn’t built around them, and the retcons these characters introduce are often detrimental to their games’ original plots or themes.

Marie has all of these problems. She feels like she was written by committee – designed to appeal to an otaku crowd with a fancy design and tsundere personality. On top of that, she’s voiced by a big name seiyuu (Kana Hanazawa), and her plotline is used to fill in gaps with the game’s ending sequence, since the original game struggled with setting it up and the anime barely even bothered to touch it (Persona 4’s True Ending was shuffled off into an OVA in the anime adaptation).

From the moment you first see Marie, it’s obvious that she doesn’t belong. It’s not that her character design is bad, but it doesn’t match with the rest of the game’s tone. This is something of a pattern for her. The first time you meet Marie, it’s in the middle of a scene that was originally dedicated to the protagonist meeting his new family in Inaba. It’s jarring, disrupts a scene that was about setting up the protagonist’s larger family dynamic, and interrupts the flow of the game’s opening sequence.

Personality-wise, Marie is probably the most tropey of Golden’s characters – she’s a tsundere with amnesia, has a mysterious past, writes bad poetry as a hobby, and has a very obvious crush on the protagonist. Romancing her is almost mandated – you’re required to complete her Social Link to access the winter semester of the game, and during the game’s new ending, she calls out the protagonist on television to talk about how much she loves him. You can choose not to romance her if you want, but the game does its best to push you into wanting to do so.

Marie ultimately becomes one of the Velvet Room’s new attendants, though a lot of the evidence suggests that she was intended to become one of your party members originally. This is partially because she has a unique Persona related to her, and partially because the game takes every effort to emphasize how much of a buddy she is to the party. Marie’s Social Link ranks are time gated, usually becoming available after a new party member joins your team. All of these early scenes are dedicated to the protagonist going on dates with Marie, and then a random party member will show up and immediately become friends with her. Probably the most egregious case is during any mid-game hangouts where you don’t rank up, because the entirety of your party will just show up at Junes at the same time as you and Marie. It’s so obviously artificially constructed and honestly feels insulting to the player.

This artificiality feels like it was a writer’s saving throw to justify why the team would go into Marie’s dungeon to save her. The problem is that it’s also an unnecessary move to take. The majority of Persona 4’s plot is about the party entering dungeons to save people that they don’t really know from a serial killer; it stands to reason that the party would decide to help Marie without that extra motivation. But no, it was important to the writers that Marie is also big friends with the party, so we got what we got instead.

Marie’s dungeon comes after the skiing trip that caps off the winter semester, a portion of the game that is only available if you’ve finished her Social Link. The skiing trip is mostly more slice of life/comedy scenes, right up until you get thrust into the TV World to help Marie. The dungeon itself is… notoriously bad. You’re stripped of your equipment and items, and can only use items found within the dungeon to fight back. On top of that, the dungeon constantly drains your HP and MP, and the boss of it can only be damaged by using items that give her elemental weaknesses, because she starts off immune to everything. Here’s hoping you didn’t bring Chie for that fight like I did!

As you go through the dungeon, it’s revealed that Marie was secretly Kusumi-no-Okami, a minor Shinto god in service to Ameno-Sagiri (the game’s first final boss). Kusumi-no-Okami’s purpose is that she’s supposed to observe humanity and suck up all of Ameno-Sagiri’s fog after the conclusion of the game’s plot, which will inevitably kill her. The dungeon ends with the party trying to appeal to Marie to convince her that she doesn’t need to die, and then beating her up to save her. It’s… not particularly well written, but if that was all to Marie’s character after that, it would be fine. Unfortunately, it’s not.

The game proceeds as normal after that point as you approach the actual final boss, Izanami-no-Okami. During the fight with her, there is a sequence where the protagonist is encouraged to keep going by all of his social links. In the original version of the game (assuming that you’ve done their Social Links), this sequence ends with Dojima and Nanako, the family he’s been staying with the whole game, encouraging him to keep going. In Golden, Nanako’s line is immediately followed by Marie showing up, once again taking a sequence about familial love to make it about Marie. It’s… kind of gross!

Then you beat Izanami, and in the scene immediately afterwards, it’s revealed that, just kidding, Marie wasn’t Kusumi-no-Okami after all! She was actually Izanami-no-Mikoto, the good part of Izanami that was shaved off so that she could do her whole evil plot. Once you beat Izanami-no-Okami, she absorbs that evil part back into her and everything is all hunky dory! Conflict resolved completely, no need to worry about it anymore!

The “Marie was actually Izanami all along” reveal undercuts the finale of the game significantly. It comes immediately after what was the final scene before the ending scene, where Izanami pledged to leave humanity’s direction to humans in recognition of your feats. It’s an unnecessary doubling down on a finale that was already pretty definitive, if somewhat bittersweet, by making it unambiguously happy. This remains a theme for Golden’s ending sequence.

Persona 4 ends with the protagonist leaving his friends behind at the end of the year. Though the killer is in jail and the mastermind defeated, Inaba is still in the same melancholy state as it was when the protagonist came to it, and ultimately, he has to leave his friends behind. There’s a bittersweet-ness to its happy ending – no matter what, you have to move on and trust that things will be okay without you. Obviously, the protagonist comes back – there wouldn’t be so many spinoffs if he couldn’t – but it’s important that Persona 4 ends the way it does at that point. It puts a definitive close on the game.

Golden, however, adds an extended epilogue sequence where the protagonist comes back a year later. In this sequence, you find out that Inaba’s businesses are recovering, Namatame (the false antagonist) is running for office with a lot of support from the town, Adachi (the actual antagonist) has been on good behavior in jail, and your party members are all making tracks toward happiness for themselves.

A theme of esoteric happiness runs through this entire sequence – it feels like it entirely exists just to tell the player not to worry, everything is fine now, don’t worry about any other points of conflict. If it was just one of these things, it would have been fine, but the gatling gun of happy endings makes every one of those little victories feel lesser for it. Marie, of course, is inserted into the ending sequence of the epilogue to cap off her involvement. The esoteric happiness started with Marie, and it ends with Marie.

Golden’s epilogue ties every conflict in the game up into a neat little bow, in a way that’s almost entirely at odds with Persona 4’s down-to-home nature. It’s a fantasy that doesn’t acknowledge the uglier parts of life that Persona 4 was all about confronting. It’s the same kind of lie that Izanami accused humanity of wanting to nestle itself into. Marie’s involvement in Golden sums up a lot of that game’s problems, but the epilogue brings them into sharp relief.

IV. So now what?

I wouldn’t call Golden a bad game – I’ve heard a lot of people call it the superior version gameplay-wise, and while I disagree with that (it’s got some balance issues thanks to its new mechanics), it’s definitely the most accessible version. But when it comes to how it relates to its original, Golden throws a lot of what makes it good out the window in favor of appealing to a more general audience with slice of life sequences, more familiar tropes, and a character who mostly exists to sell merchandise and tie up Persona 4’s ending in an unambiguously happy manner.

I realize I’m in the minority here when I talk about what I dislike about Golden – you’ll find a lot of people who dislike Marie, but not a lot who dislike the rest of the package. And if you have a Vita and haven’t played Persona 4 already, then you might as well use it as your entry point into the franchise. However, I can’t help but feel like Golden is the exact point where Persona as a franchise shifted from trying to tell philosophical stories with more grounded characters to chasing mainstream appeal. Even Persona 5, a game that tries to tell a story about very real societal problems, has a lot of the same problems as Golden does, and from what I understand, these problems only got worse with Persona 5 Royal.

At the end of the day, Persona is going nowhere anytime soon – Persona 5 is the best-selling game in the franchise period, and the influence Persona has had on JRPGs in general cannot be understated. But I wouldn’t mind if some of the things I disliked about Persona 4 Golden didn’t come back.

#persona 4 #persona 4 golden #p4 spoilers #opinion #video games #a massive pile of salt

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therebloggerbird · 5 years ago

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World of Warcraft Trailers RANKED

Because I’m incredibly bored and needed something to do. I played WoW briefly back during the Wrath era, and still like to keep up with what’s going on in that IP once a year or so. But I’ve always been really impressed with Blizzard’s cinematic trailers. So I have them ranked here, based on my personal preferences. Bit long under the cut, but I’ve still tried to keep things concise overall.

9. Mists of Pandaria

I almost feel like Mists of Pandaria gets a pass because in many ways it doesn’t feel like it “fits” with the others. Even the art style looks “off” to a degree. What’s with the strangely bara-looking characters? Overall it’s a pretty tight and decently crafted cinematic – Blizzard is very good at making these trailers even at their worst, as we’ll see – but it feels disconnected from the larger world. I can even overlook the whole kung fu panda concept to just say that the weirdly humorous and cartoony affect doesn’t seem to hit, even by the admittedly cartoony standards of the whole IP. Just kind of silly.

8. Shadowlands

“Icecrown.” This is where I wish I could review these in reverse, but I always like to count up rather than down in list reviews. Shadowlands is the culmination of a trend that can be seen from Legion through to the present in terms of Sylvanas Windrunner’s character progression. Right off the bat this trailer has a big setup – we’re returning to Icecrown Citadel, one of the most memorable and important locations in the entire series. While the full extent of her fall is not made clear until later, we can see that old Sylvia is clearly going the Garrosh Hellscream route of turning into a villain by popular demand. What follows is a very stupid action sequence. Is it cool looking? Of course it is, the budget on these things is ludicrous. It’s still stupid, however. Sylvanas might as well have dealt with the OG Lich King by herself, along with pretty much every other raid considering how untouchable she is in this showdown. More than that, the disrespect to Bolvar Fordragon, who I believe was never seen again after the end of Wrath, seems a bit harsh. The ending leaves more questions than it answers, and not entirely in a good way. The concept of the “Shadowlands” as given later doesn’t seem bad, but you’re telling me nobody thought to do this with the Crown beforehand? It’s a bit out of nowhere.

7. Battle for Azeroth

Battle for Azeroth’s cinematic trailer suffers from having come after the trailer for Legion. Legion’s trailer is incredibly over-the-top in a very endearing way, and BfA takes a step back from that. I get that it’s probably an homage to the early days of WoW, but considering how Legion showed how far the world had come in many ways, BfA seems kind of dull and same-y. Siege towers? Really? When you have legions of magical air-dreadnoughts? It also shows the ongoing negative trend with hero characters in the franchise. Nobody gives a damn how powerful the “main characters” are in a game about the PLAYERS going around and having adventures. And if they do, I’d still ask who on earth these stupid schmucks are who sign on to be a part of the Alliance and Horde line-infantry at the very least. Sylvanas shows off an early taste of what’s to come in terms of her decline, and Anduin is kind of a funny character to me. Look at this child they put in a set of Warhammer space marine armor. Who let him onto the battlefield? Hand over command to the werewolf and protect this poor kid!

6. Cataclysm

Cataclysm goes with a good trend you can trace back to the Burning Crusade in focusing on the villain. That’s good framing in an RPG. The problem for me at least is that Deathwing’s voice lacks something. He sounds like a bit of a dullard, and while his voice is deep it lacks resonance and sounds a bit tinny. Compared to the narrations in other trailers, it’s just not as good, even if it isn’t bad. The visuals are great, however, and the way we’re shown the world being destroyed clearly communicates a “the world will never be the same” vibe in a very direct and visceral way. Overall not a bad trailer, but just a bit basic and weaker when compared to the top performers.

5. Legion

I like this trailer the more I watch it, because to me it’s probably the purest distillation of what Warcraft actually is. Every character in this trailer looks like they could be a player, not a “protagonist” or an “NPC”. The dynamics between the big, crazy, chunky character models and the very cold and realistic lighting makes for an amazing image. I always wondered what the demand for a live-action Warcraft film was when they have cinematics that look like this. This trailer has some great action, balanced yet bombastic, and also features Infernals, which are always cool. As said before, the sheer scale of everything puts BfA to shame, yet it doesn’t feel as silly as something like Shadowlands. The biggest problem with this trailer is that Varian Wrynn’s voice just isn’t that impressive. He gives a great speech, for sure, but he still just sounds like “a guy” and doesn’t exactly have the pipes of a Menethil. The line “I’ve been slow to trust” as he sees Sylvanas come through the fog is pretty hilarious in retrospect.

4. Burning Crusade

You are not prepared! A classic, and many people’s favorite. Burning Crusade doesn’t really have a “plotline” within the actual trailer, but the visuals are all very cool nonetheless. Special mention goes to the draenei paladin, who looks amazing and whose motions seem to have so much more weight than anything else in the trailer. The rest of the clips are impressive, and there’s a bit of humor thrown in as well. Of course, the big showing is from Illidan, who gives a fantastic little speech brimming with tension and gravitas. I’d maybe consider #4 and #3 on this list tied in a lot of ways.

3. World of Warcraft

The vanilla cinematic trailer benefits from novelty and a good sense of focus. Opening narration (by who, I don’t know) provides us with everything we need to know about the state of the world and what we’re jumping into. The faux-Latin orchestral sting right afterwards makes for a stunning opening to the visuals, and we’re then treated to a very lasting impression of Warcraft’s aesthetics. All the action is good, with special mention to the Infernal summoning, and there are very few weak points in the trailer. There’s no “narrative” but one isn’t really needed, as we’re trying to sell people on exploring a world rather than investing in a plotline just yet.

2. Warlords of Draenor

Warlords of Draenor is an incredible cinematic adaptation of one of the most important bits of Warcraft backstory. The execution of this trailer is incredible, and again makes me question the necessity for an actual live-action film. We have big, baritone-voiced characters brimming with detail in a very tense and dark moment, followed by explosive action. Everything looks good. Grommash looks cool, Gul’dan looks sinister, and Mannoroth is absolutely fearsome. The dialogue is overblown and over-dramatic in the absolute best of ways, and is made better by every single character having voices that bottom-out the register. Mannoroth’s death is a little quick, but doesn’t really need to last that long, and all the musical and visual notes are beautifully synced. Even Garrosh gets a cool showing, and the trailer ends with a dramatic rise that is one of the best examples among all the trailers. The actual idea behind having an alternate-history timeline plot in Warcraft is a little wonky, but I feel like this trailer sells the idea better than the actual expansion did (from what I hear).

1.Wrath of the Lich King

The grandmaster, the pinnacle. “My son.” I am absolutely biased. Wrath of the Lich King is not just a great Warcraft trailer, its a great trailer by any standard. Intense narration that really builds up the scene coupled with a fantastic soprano opening to the trailer proper. This is another trailer that does a great one-scene bit, and is also similar to Legion in that it contrasts some very subdued visuals with some very over-the-top ones. You almost question whether or not this Dark Lord looking character is the villain, if you didn’t know the backstory of Arthas, with how soft the start of the trailer is. The consistent dynamic where his dead father will narrate some virtue, followed by the Lich King displaying the opposite is great. “Exercise restraint” with the summoning of the undead dragon Sindragosa, followed by “stirring the hearts of your people” with a shot of the undead horde is a great progression. And the trailer even manages to end with some heart-pumping intensity while still remaining very subdued. There’s a reason why, even when I’m not entertaining any feelings of nostalgia for Warcraft, I still go back and watch just this trailer. It’s a fantastic piece of art all on its own.

#warcraft #wow #world of warcraft

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timeagainreviews · 5 years ago

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Sifting through the Dregs

For series twelve of Doctor Who, I have opted to take a casual approach. I've avoided spoilers as much as possible. Although I caught the trailers, and the odd press photo, I've managed to stay away from things as simple as episode descriptions, writers, or even episode titles. I want to come into each story with as little expectation as possible. This is so that I might avoid hype, both of the negative and positive varieties. So when I read the words "Part One," after "Spyfall," it was genuinely a surprise. And when I read the words "Orphan 55 by Ed Hime," I was suddenly very hopeful.

If you remember from series eleven, I was a big fan of Ed Hime's episode "It Takes You Away." I praised its brazen absurdity, likening it to something Douglas Adams may have done. The episode is rather divisive in the fandom, as some might call it one of the worst episodes ever. Obviously, I disagree. Ed Hime stands out to me as exactly the kind of writer Doctor Who needs. Someone with a bit of a taste for the absurd, while still managing to capture human moments. Ironic then, that despite my best efforts to approach the episode without expectation, the hype I would most contest with would be my own. Does "Orphan 55," live up to my expectations? Let's get into it!

As I said, Ed Hime lends a sort of mad weirdness to Doctor Who that I feel a certain section of writers possess. Think your Lawrence Mileses, your James Gosses, or even the occasional Steven Moffat. These are writers, who for better or worse understand one thing about Doctor Who- it's weird. Strangely, one of the common most aspects ignored by Doctor Who writers is the absurdity. A blue police box wrapped around an impossible machine, piloted by an ancient trickster somehow becomes mundane. Doctor Who's weirdness is an integral element that has been around since its inception. That's why when the gang gets teleported by a contest cube Graham has assembled, and the first person we meet is a furry, I feel we're already onto a good start. Especially when they just finished cleaning up the biggest calamari ever from the TARDIS floor. (Anyone else think of the Nestine Consciousness?)

Characters like "Hyphen with a 3" or "Hyph3n," remind me of some of the '80s era's odder characters. I could easily see her and her tail living in "Paradise Towers," or perhaps riding a bus in "Delta and the Bannermen." But another reason I love her is that she's not just a furry, it's part of her identity. You don't get the idea that she's an outlier like real-life Trekkie, Barbara Adams, who famously wore her Star Trek uniform to jury duty and her place of work. Instead, you get the feeling that in the future, people respect identities. To use Star Trek again, I remember watching an episode of "Star Trek: Enterprise," where the character Trip has a crisis over whether or not a girl "was a man." When you compare this to the dialogue we're having about transgender rights in 2020, you're automatically reminded that Enterprise came out in 2001. By today's standards, furries are still seeking acceptance. Seeing Hyp3n in a partial fursuit may seem absurd now, but in its own way, it's futuristic. How very Doctor Who.

Things in this future, however, aren't all progressive acceptance of our fine furry friends, there seems to be trouble in paradise. As I said, the gang is greeted by Hyp3n, a sort of porter for a relaxation destination called "Tranquility Spa." The companions immediately take to the spirit of things, as they settle in for a bit of rest and relaxation. The Doctor, of course, starts snooping around. Meanwhile, a security team of two, Kane and Vorm are responding to "another security breach." Whatever it is requires machine guns, which seems like quite a lot. And if you're like me you'll spend the next half hour trying to figure out where you've seen Kane before. I'll help you out- it was Lydia from Breaking Bad. You're welcome. I just saved you a trip to IMDb.

The next scene introduces us to a concept that will run strong within this episode- Yaz as a gooseberry. We see a couple of pensioners, Benni and Vilma, enjoying their spa getaway. Just as Benni is about to ask Vilma to marry him, Yaz stands right between them. I mean, I know the pool is for everyone, but read the vibe, Yaz. Jeez. Meanwhile, Ryan is checking out the interior of Tranquility Spa. The bar looks like the kind of place art vampires go to get lemongrass enemas. It reminded me a lot of "The Leisure Hive," with a budget, or even a more modern twist on the Centre of Leisure from "Time and the Rani. So much of this episode reminded me of classic Doctor Who.

Ryan notices a vending machine, but as he's retrieving his food is infected by a hopper virus. The Doctor explains the virus is capable of jumping from computers to humans. After expelling it from his system, the Doctor bags it to take to whoever is in charge. While Ryan is sucking his thumb to reduce the hallucinogenic side effects of the virus, he sees a cutie in a similar situation, a young woman by the name of Belle. It's pretty obvious at this point that Belle is to be a sort of romantic interest for Ryan, and who can blame him? She lives up to her namesake!

Everyone is rounded up for a "tranquillity drill," to a safe location while Kane and Vorm run through the lobby with their guns in tow. As with most companions, travelling with the Doctor embeds a deeper curiosity. Much like the Doctor would, Ryan questions what type of drill requires guns. This question entices Belle to follow him as they investigate. I really liked this pairing of the two of them as their chemistry was natural, despite Ryan's repeated failures at chatting her up. It only added to their charm.

The Doctor confronts Hyp3n who seems just about as confused and nervous as many of the guests. Whatever she's hiding is only because she's been instructed to by her superiors. Considering the hopper virus and drill, the Doctor deduces that the spa is under attack, and demands to know what they're hiding. Who would want to harm a spa? The spa has been using an ionic membrane to keep out unwanted visitors, visitors which appear to have breached the membrane. Now under a full-on attack by a group of monstrous beings, guests become casualties. Not only is the base under attack, but the viruses have also handicapped the systems, disabling the emergency teleportation devices. With everyone trapped the Doctor has to work fast to stop the killing, as well as survive.

Graham finds a pair of green haired servicemen in the form of Nevi and his son Sylas. Their entire character design once again had me thinking of classic Doctor Who characters such as the Swampies from "The Power of Kroll," or the Karfelon androids from "Timelash." I liked wondering if they were a kind of species that has naturally green hair, or if they had father/son hair dying nights. In this brief interaction, you learn that Sylas is the better mechanic between the two of them, but that Nevi does a bad job of acknowledging this. Graham gathers them and others to evacuate while Ryan and Belle hideaway in a sauna of sorts. While there, they confide in each other that neither of them is nearly as impressive as they initially led on, and the truth strengthens their bond.

Sadly, as Graham is rounding people up, Benni gets separated after backtracking to pick up Vilma's hat. As life signs extinguish across a computer screen, highlighting the trail of carnage, the Doctor finds a way to push back the onslaught. By repairing the ionic membrane, the creatures, known as Dregs, are physically pushed out of the spa by a force field. The crisis averted, the survivors search for the bodies of their loved ones. Much to Graham's relief, Ryan and Belle have both narrowly avoided the claws and teeth of an angry Dreg. Benni, however, is nowhere to be found.

After discovering a hole, which looks like a tear in reality, our heroes discover that Tranquility Spa is actually an illusion. A dome separates the spa from a hostile planet far too polluted to inhabit. This abandoned, or "orphan," planet is designated "Orphan 55." This is the reason guests are teleported to the spa- to cover up its seedy location. However, it would appear that whatever the Dregs are, they seem to be apex predators, able to survive the hostile environment of Orphan 55. And they want the spa and its inhabitants gone.

The Doctor makes Kane drive them out into the wasteland to find Benni, as his oxygen tank would allow him to survive outside of the dome for some time. It was a thin chance, but it might be enough to save at least one person among the carnage. I was really hoping for some silly "Moonbase," style helmets, but instead, we got these minimalist blue breath right strips across the bridge of the nose that linked to small wrist canisters as supplied by Nevi and Sylas.

The trip out onto the surface reminded me a lot of the great Russell T Davies episode "Midnight." And much like Midnight, the confined space of a vehicle traversing harsh conditions offers plenty opportunity to explore the people within. Remember how I said Yaz is a gooseberry? She wastes no time getting right between Ryan and Belle. I honestly can't tell what's going on between Yaz and Ryan at the moment. Last season, there was a bit of a "Will they or won't they?" vibe between them. But series twelve seems less interested in coupling them off. First, we had the Master and Yaz getting weirdly touchy-feely, which surprisingly never comes up again. And now we've got Yaz teasing Ryan in front of Belle like a jealous school girl. We learn that along with sucking their thumbs, Ryan and Belle also share having a dead parent in common, so that's something.

The vehicle picks up a bit of barbed wiring leaving it, as the Doctor put it- completely knackered. Keeping with the Midnight vibe, the surface of the planet is too dangerous due to monsters and killer sunlight. Afraid for her own self-interest, Kane wants to abandon the search mission, but a pleading Vilma begs her to continue looking for Benni. After callously accepting Vilma's necklace as payment, Kane agrees to continue with the rescue mission. The crew abandon their vehicle and run for the safety of an underground service tunnel, but Dregs attack from every direction causing them to return to the safety of the vehicle. But that safety won't last long.

It's then that they hear Benni calling for Vilma. He asks her to marry him and then asks them to shoot him as well. It's a morbid moment as you realise the only reason the Dregs have kept Benni alive is to taunt the survivors and prolong his suffering. I don't really understand what the point of having them run back into the vehicle actually was. They basically run back out a moment later with the new plan of Kane and Vorm covering with gunfire. I don't understand why it was so important that they leave one location just to return moments later.

As Kane and Vorm blast Dregs, the rest of the crew run to the safety of the service tunnel. In the scuffle, Vorm dies, but Kane catches up just in time to open the tunnel. The entrance to this tunnel had me thinking of the opening of "Mighty Morphin Power Rangers." I kept waiting for Rita Repulsa to pop out and say "Ah! After 10,000 years I'm free! It's time to conquer Earth!" They make it down into the tunnel where there is a short-range teleporter nearby. Vilma asks Kane if she saw what happened to Benni, and Kane coldly tells her not to worry, that she shot Benni as he requested. It's at this time that Belle steals Kane's gun. She reveals that Kane is her mother and that she's here for revenge for abandoning her and her father. Belle teleports back to the spa taking Ryan with her. Seeing as the teleporter only had enough juice for one go, the rest of the crew must go deeper into the tunnel to find their way back.

Back at the spa, Belle reveals a huge bomb she plans to use to blow up the spa. Poor Ryan, he just met this girl and already he's dealing with her baggage with her mum. I kid, but damn girl, take a guy to a movie first. It's lucky for the Doctor that this adventure isn't actually from the '80s. Had it been Ace in this position, she would have seen the bomb and said "Wicked!" while offering up Nitro 9 to add to the destruction. Instead, Ryan pleads with her not to blow up the spa, dooming everyone involved.

Meanwhile, the Doctor and crew discover a plaque written in Russian, cluing them in to the fact that not only is the planet abandoned, but it was also abandoned by humanity. Orphan 55 is in fact, Earth. This revelation hits Graham and Yaz hard, as they never imagined the fate of the world to be so ugly. Their grieving is cut short by the appearance of Dregs, who Vilma bravely sacrifices herself to, to save the others. The Doctor, at this time also appears to be running out of air. It appears that the ability to be the loudest talker isn't always helpful when oxygen preservation is to be considered.

The sole reason for her running out of oxygen serves only to discover the Dregs breathe out oxygen. She discovers this when she finds a Dreg conveniently hibernating within the tunnel. Why this is important is that it gives a bit of insight into the Dregs' motivation. Kane's big plan was to make a spa that slowly terraforms the planet, which would harm the Dregs. It also explains the trees seen on the surface of the planet. That or these trees are also apex predators able to adapt to anything. Using her Time Lord brain magic, the Doctor looks into the mind of the Dregs and affirms what she feared most- they evolved from humans.

Everyone has now made their way back to the spa. The Dregs are closing in and they need to fix the teleporter. We're treated to a series of people once again leaving and returning to the same location for the sake of upping the tension. Kane appears to sacrifice herself and Sylas gets in an argument with Nevi once more over being told he's not a mechanic causing him to run away. But both of them are ok, as they both return unscathed. Yaz and Ryan wheel Belle's bomb to try and take out a few of the baddies. It's kind of a clusterfuck if I am honest. Lots of characters get taken in and out of scenes merely to pad time and add to the tension. It's not egregious but could have been edited better.

Sylas appears just in time with a solution to use the hopper virus to convert fuel for the teleporter. I was happy they brought the virus back, even if they don’t make a whole lot of sense. Were the Dregs weaponising the hopper virus? Were the viruses remnants of human civilisation? Regardless, I’m glad they brought it back. Sadly, this entire end sequence acts as evidence that perhaps there are too many companions in the TARDIS at the moment. Graham's job is to stand over Nevi and Sylus saying things like "That's right lads!" Yaz and Ryan are basically running around doing busywork, while the Doctor and Belle are having a stand-off with a Dreg. The Doctor manages to equalise the air in the room so that it is mutually beneficial to keep her and Belle alive. What the Dreg breathes out, they breathe in, and vice versa. This stalemate allows them the ability to leave. With the teleports up and running, the Doctor and her crew are transported back aboard the TARDIS, but not before Belle steals a kiss from Ryan. Are she and her mother going to be okay? We're left to wonder.

The victory celebration is short-lived as the companions remember the fate of the earth. Now, I need to preface what I'm about to say with the following- I fully believe climate change is a thing. I say this because we need to talk about how Doctor Who handles the subject. I've seen a lot of people (see: morons) complain about when Doctor Who gets "too political." They seem to think anything they don't like is political. The Doctor being a woman is political to them. But as I said with episodes like "Rosa," and "Demons of the Punjab," it's not that Doctor Who shouldn't be political, it's that it's simply not very good at it.

I can appreciate that the message of climate change is a real and pressing matter, but the cautionary edutainment way in which they present the information was so cringe. It felt so unnatural and tacked on. In their desire to address the audience directly, they lose a level of reality that makes the dialogue seem fake. These scenes always feel badly acted to me, but it's the fault of the dialogue. There's no good way to break the fourth wall without also sacrificing the characters' voices. It's like one of those adverts where you have two people talking far too candidly about something like their period flow, or constipation. It's a way to disseminate information about a product or ideology, but don't mistake it for dialogue. Nobody talks like this.

All in all, this was your standard "base in peril," episode. While not as transcendent as "It Takes You Away," I believe Ed Hime has given us another solid episode of Doctor Who. It's hard for me to tell if Hime's ability to write action was wanting, or if it is simply the fault of the director, but it definitely suffers at points due to the janky pacing. Pacing has really been an odd sticking point for series 12, and I hope they work it out. Even still, I was hoping that after the two-parter of "Spyfall," we would get something a little more grounded. Having this odd little contained storyline with little homages to classic Who is actually more than I had hoped for. It also gave us a new character in Belle, whom I expect to see return eventually. And despite the heavy-handed and unnatural way in which they dealt with climate change, I understand that it's a family show. In keeping with classic Who, it aimed to be educational, and for that, I cannot fault it.

#doctor who #Thirteenth Doctor #Jodie Whittaker #Bradley Walsh #tosin cole #mandip gill #Graham O'Brien #Ryan Sinclair #yaz #yasmine khan #orphan 55 #ed hime #dregs #series 12 #TARDIS #BBC #Time and Time Again

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tcm · 6 years ago

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Interview with Mark A. Vieira, author of Forbidden Hollywood: The Pre-Code Era (1930-1934)

Mark A. Vieira is an acclaimed film historian, writer and photographer. His most recent book,��Forbidden Hollywood: The Pre-Code Era (1930-1934): When Sin Ruled the Movies is now available from TCM and Running Press.

Raquel Stecher: Twenty years ago you wrote Sin in Soft Focus: Pre-Code Hollywood for Harry N. Abrams. Why did you decide to revisit the pre-Code era with your new TCM-Running Press book Forbidden Hollywood?

Mark A. Vieira: That’s a good question, Raquel. There were three reasons. First, Sin in Soft Focus had gone out of print, and copies were fetching high prices on eBay and AbeBooks. Second, the book was being used in classes at the USC School of Cinematic Arts. Third, Jeff Mantor of Larry Edmunds Cinema Book Shop told me that his customers were asking if I could do a follow-up to the 1999 book, which had gotten a good New York Times review and gone into a second printing. So I wrote a book proposal, citing all the discoveries I’d made since the first book. This is what happens when you write a book; information keeps coming for years after you publish it, and you want to share that new information. Sin in Soft Focus: Pre-Code Hollywood told the story of the Code from an industry standpoint. Forbidden Hollywood has that, but it also has the audience’s point of view. After all, a grassroots movement forced Hollywood to reconstitute the Code.

Raquel Stecher: Forbidden Hollywood includes reproduced images from the pre-Code era and early film history. How did you curate these images and what were your criteria for including a particular photograph?

Mark A. Vieira: The text suggests what image should be placed on a page or on succeeding pages. Readers wonder what Jason Joy looked like or what was so scandalous about CALL HER SAVAGE (’32), so I have to show them. But I can’t put just any picture on the page, especially to illustrate a well-known film. My readers own film books and look at Hollywood photos on the Internet. I have to find a photo that they haven’t seen. It has to be in mint condition because Running Press’s reproduction quality is so good. The image has to be arresting, a photo that is worthy in its own right, powerfully composed and beautifully lit—not just a “representative” photo from a pre-Code film. It also has to work with the other photos on that page or on the next page, in terms of composition, tone and theme. That’s what people liked about Sin in Soft Focus. It had sections that were like rooms in a museum or gallery, where each grouping worked on several levels. In Forbidden Hollywood, I’m going for a different effect. The photo choices and groupings give a feeling of movement, a dynamic affect. In this one, the pictures jump off the page.

Raquel Stecher: Why did you decide on a coffee table art book style format?

Mark A. Vieira: Movies are made of images. Sexy images dominated pre-Code. To tell the story properly, you have to show those images. Movie stills in the pre-Code era were shot with 8x10 view cameras. The quality of those big negatives is ideal for a fine-art volume. And film fans know the artistry of the Hollywood photographers of that era: Fred Archer, Milton Brown, William Walling, Bert Longworth, Clarence Bull, Ernest Bachrach and George Hurrell. They’re all represented—and credited—in Forbidden Hollywood.

Raquel Stecher: What was the research process like for Forbidden Hollywood?

Mark A. Vieira: I started at the University of Southern California, where I studied film 40 years ago. I sat down with Ned Comstock, the Senior Library Assistant, and mapped out a plan. USC has scripts from MGM, Universal and the Fox Film Corporation. The Academy Library has files from the Production Code Administration. I viewed DVDs and 16mm prints from my collection. I reviewed books on the Code by Thomas Doherty and other scholars. I jumped into the trade magazines of the period using the Media History Digital Library online. I created a file folder for each film of the era. It’s like detective work. It’s tedious—until it gets exciting.

Raquel Stecher: How does pre-Code differ from other film genres?

Mark A. Vieira: Well, pre-Code is not a genre like Westerns or musicals. It’s a rediscovered element of film history. It was named in retrospect, like film noir, but unlike film noir, pre-Code has lines of demarcation—March 1930 through June 1934—the four-year period before the Production Code was strengthened and enforced. When Mae West made I’M NO ANGEL (’33), she had no idea she was making a pre-Code movie. The pre-Code tag came later, when scholars realized that these films shared a time, a place and an attitude. There was a Code from 1930 on, but the studios negotiated with it, bypassed it or just plain ignored it, making movies that were irreverent and sexy. Modern viewers say, “I’ve never seen that in an old Hollywood movie!” This spree came to an end in 1934, when a Catholic-led boycott forced Hollywood to reconstitute the Code. It was administered for 20 years by Joseph Breen, so pre-Code is really pre-Breen.

Raquel Stecher: What are a few pre-Code films that you believe defined the era?

Mark A. Vieira: That question has popped up repeatedly since I wrote Sin in Soft Focus, so I decided which films had led to the reconstituted Code, and I gave them their own chapters. To qualify for that status, a film had to meet these standards: (1) They were adapted from proscribed books or plays; (2) They were widely seen; (3) They were attacked in the press; (4) They were heavily cut by the state or local boards; (5) They were banned in states, territories or entire countries; and (6) They were condemned in the Catholic Press and by the Legion of Decency. To name the most controversial: THE COCK-EYED WORLD (’29) (off-color dialogue); THE DIVORCEE (’30) (the first film to challenge the Code); FRANKENSTEIN (’31) (horror); SCARFACE (’32) (gang violence); RED-HEADED WOMAN (’32) (an unrepentant homewrecker); and CALL HER SAVAGE (’32) (the pre-Code film that manages to violate every prohibition of the Code). My big discovery was THE SIGN OF THE CROSS (’32). This Cecil B. DeMille epic showed the excesses of ancient Rome in such lurid detail that it offended Catholic filmgoers, thus setting off the so-called “Catholic Crusade.”

Raquel Stecher: It’s fascinating to read correspondence, interviews and reviews that react to the perceived immorality of these movies. How does including these conversations give your readers context about the pre-Code era?

Mark A. Vieira: Like some film noir scholars, I could tell you how I feel about the film, what it means, the significance of its themes. So what? Those are opinions. My readers deserve facts. Those can only come from documents of the period: letters, memos, contracts, news articles. These are the voices of the era, the voices of history. A 100-year-old person might misremember what happened. A document doesn’t misremember. It tells the tale. My task is to present a balanced selection of these documents so as not to stack the deck in favor of one side or the other.

Raquel Stecher: In your book you discuss the attempts made to censor movies from state and federal government regulation to the creation of the MPPDA to the involvement of key figures like Joseph Breen and Will H. Hays. What is the biggest misconception about the Production Code?

Mark A. Vieira: There are a number of misconceptions. I label them and counter them: (1) “Silent films are not “pre-Code films.” (2) Not every pre-Code film was a low-budget shocker but made with integrity and artistry; most were big-budget star vehicles. (3) The pre-Code censorship agency was the SRC (Studio Relations Committee), part of the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors Association (MPPDA)—not the MPPA, which did not exist until the 1960s! (4) The Code did not mandate separate beds for married couples. (5) Joseph Breen was not a lifelong anti-Semite, second only to Hitler. He ended his long career with the respect and affection of his Jewish colleagues.

Raquel Stecher: How did the silent movie era and the Great Depression have an impact on the pre-Code era?

Mark A. Vieira: The silent era allowed the studios the freedom to show nudity and to write sexy intertitles, but the local censors cut those elements from release prints, costing the studios a lot of money, which in part led to the 1930 Code. The Great Depression emptied the theaters (or closed them), so producers used sexy films to lure filmgoers back to the theaters.

Raquel Stecher: TCM viewers love pre-Codes. What do you think it is about movies from several decades ago that still speak to contemporary audiences?

Mark A. Vieira: You’re right. Because we can see these films so readily, we forget that eight decades have passed since they premiered. We don’t listen to music of such a distant time, so how can we enjoy the art of a period in which community standards were so different from what they are now? After all, this was the tail end of the Victorian era, and the term “sex” was not used in polite society. How did it get into films like MIDNIGHT MARY (’33) and SEARCH FOR BEAUTY (’34)? There were protests against such films, and there were also millions of people enjoying them. What they enjoyed is what TCM viewers enjoy—frankness, honesty, risqué humor, beautiful bodies and adult-themed stories.

Raquel Stecher: What do you hope readers take away from your book?

Mark A. Vieira: One thing struck me as I wove the letters of just plain citizens into the tapestry of this story. Americans of the 1930s wrote articulate, heartfelt letters. One can only assume that these people were well educated and that they did a lot of reading—and letter writing. I want my readers to read the entire text of Forbidden Hollywood. I worked to make it accurate, suspenseful and funny. There are episodes in it that are hilarious. These people were witty! So I hope you’ll enjoy the pictures, but more so that you’ll dive into the story and let it carry you along. Here’s a quote about SO THIS IS AFRICA (‘33) from a theater owner: “I played it to adults only (over 15 years old). Kids who have been 12 for the last 10 years aged rapidly on their way to our box office.”

#pre-Code #TCM #Forbidden Hollywood #pre-code films #interview #jean harlow #mae west #ginger rogers #Depression era #1930s #Raquel Stecher

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