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echoes-in-blue · 1 year

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Mark Hoffman x Original Character AU - Canon Divergent Story. +18 Readers only.

Summary: What if Mark always had someone behind the scenes, watching his back and helping him out. What would happen after his death and resurrection? When lovers become partners in crime, there will be no stopping their revenge. Tags: Dom/sub, breath play, teasing, language, dirty talk, restraints, spanking, knife play, fear play, injury, gore, violence Notes: This story is fan fiction derived from the universe of the Saw movies and takes place at the end of Saw VI, diverting the canon from there and adding in a bit more of a Hoffman backstory. If you aren't fond of this idea, then feel free to skip. This story is not meant for anyone under the age of 18. Read at your own risk.

Chapter One: Backup Plan

“If you don’t hear from me, by midnight I need you to open this envelope.” “And if I do hear from you?” “Burn it, like the others.”

Typically, when he left things like that, he did contact her before midnight. It was funny to her that he believed she had no idea what he was doing or where he was going. At first, it hadn’t been so obvious but over time it became clear. Possibly because she was an FBI agent and a profiler. Did he underestimate her ability to figure it out or was he with her because he was very much aware that she knew who he was and what he was doing. The fact that it turned her on even though it shouldn’t and she was just as aware as him that she’d never turn him in. They were in love and had been since well before he’d become the Jigsaw apprentice. Things had only gotten more intense since that point. It was never explicitly stated between them what he was involved in but that didn’t matter. He knew she knew. It was why sometimes when he returned home he still had blood on his clothes, his gloves that gripped her chin so firmly. Forcing eye contact to make sure she knew her place. Sending chills down her spine into her very core, leaving her unable to deny how much she wanted him. He knew that too.

That night, though, it felt different. The way he told her the instructions. Almost as if he knew that something wouldn’t go right. She wished he’d tell her more, or at least let her help. The thing was that not speaking of these things in detail gave her the plausible deniability she would need should he get caught. The first person they would go to was his wife. Much like they had gone after Jill Kramer. The less she knew, the better she’d be able to fake it when they came around to interrogate her. No matter what, she’d never throw him under the bus. It wasn’t that she was blind to what was wrong with the situation but she could see, through his eyes, why he did what he did. As someone who worked in law enforcement herself it was easier to justify handing out such punishments to criminals who had skirted the law and never learned the value of their lives or impact of their behavior.

She couldn’t pretend like there weren’t suspects, perpetrators, and guilty men and women she had to deal with every day who she’d like to see maimed in one of those traps. She’d insinuated as much when she could get away with it. While watching the news, making sure to mention to him that some people just deserved what they got. It was not the correct stance for her to take as an agent of the law but nor was it correct for him as a detective so at least they were on the same page.

As she sat there, the clock ticking down, she realized that he had not contacted her. No text on her phone. The one she had as a burner just for these messages from him. It hadn’t rang either. The midnight hour drew closer, and closer, and when the old clock in their penthouse chimed twelve she knew for the first time she was going to have to open that envelope. It was something that excited her as much as terrified her because she didn’t know what she would find. Obviously, she was the failsafe in all of this and since she was a forensic psychiatrist that also made her a medical doctor. He had her as a life preserver because she could preserve life. She’d treated his wounds before when he couldn’t properly seek care for them lest they raise suspicion with local hospitals as to how he’d gotten them. As an heiress, she had connections and money to buy or find anything he could need to treat and hide the injuries until he was good as new. They were a perfect team because between the two of them they could get rid of anything that they didn’t want seen.

From the hidden safe in the wall she removed the instructions packet and opened it up. There she found only one thing. GPS coordinates. There was no explanation otherwise. Though he was smart enough to know that she would be aware that this place that he wanted her to go to was dangerous. Not that it mattered, since she always carried her weapon with her now thanks to being an FBI agent. She punched the coordinates into the burner phone and came up with a location. A warehouse in the middle of nowhere just about. Outside of New York City where they lived, near some docks in New Jersey right across the bridge. As far as she could tell, the property had been previously owned by John Kramer. Hopefully, she wasn’t walking into a death trap, nor would she arrive to find Mark’s dead and dismembered body somewhere on the premises.

“I may hurt you but I will never harm you, do you understand the difference?” He asked as she sat there, hands cuffed behind her back to the post of the bed that they shared. The concept of the dom/sub relationship was one she knew plenty about academically since she worked in sex crimes but she hadn’t put it into practice herself. They’d discussed it here and there but he knew more than she had. Especially that she was ready to start. “Look at me, Leila.” He put his fingers under her chin to lift her head up, forcing eye contact between them.

“I understand, sir.” She said, “Hurting means pain and temporary suffering but harm would be permanent and detrimental. I trust you not to harm me. I trust you with my life.”

“Are you sure about that?” He asked quickly pulling a knife from his pocket to flick the blade up and brandish it within her line of sight. “It could be a foolish decision if you aren’t absolutely sure of what you are saying.”

“I know what I am saying and I know what I want.” She confirmed. He smirked and licked his lips slowly. Bringing the blade down he started to cut away the buttons of her blouse one by one until it fell open, exposing her bra. Then he brought it back up to cut the bra between the cups, splitting it to reveal her breasts. Her heart fluttered in her chest. The adrenaline rush combined with the arousal and the idea that she was completely helpless to his every whim was overwhelmingly erotic. Slowly, he ran the blade over her right breast to where her heart would be positioning the tip there to press into the skin enough to cause pain but not actually pierce it.

“I could kill you, if I wanted.” He said.

“But that isn’t what you want.” She replied. He smirked, sliding the knife over her skin enough to leave a scratch but not a cut until he got it to her jugular, resting the blade there where she could feel just how sharp it was against the vital area.

“What I want is for you to never know what I may or may not do but trust that ultimately this is a game we play and you will not come out of it harmed. As I said before.” He moved the knife from her neck to her lips, pressing the flat of it there. She looked at him, kissing the metal that she was presented with. He laughed softly and folded the blade into the handle before slipping the knife back into his pocket.

“So you want me to be afraid?”

“In a sense, yes, but I want you to trust me as well. Expect the unexpected.” He smirked and then pulled her into a hungry kiss.

She took care to be sure that no one had followed her where she was going. It wasn’t typical that anyone would follow her but she knew there were some eyes on Mark so that meant it was possible that people had eyes on her as well. When she pulled up to the place she found that it was indeed a warehouse. Hopefully, it was not one that involved any of John or Mark’s games. Though she could deal with dead bodies, gore, and mutilation since crime scenes were part of her everyday job, she did not want to leave any evidence that she’d been there. If that were the case. From her back pocket she pulled out a pair of gloves and slipped them on before grabbing onto the handle of the sliding door in front of her. Amazingly, it wasn’t locked, but she knew that potentially could mean bad news as well. She only opened it enough to look inside and then enter before shutting it again. The area was dark but not pitch black and in the back she could see a light, kind of in a corner.

Pulling her gun, she headed in that direction as quietly as possible, also making sure she wasn’t accidentally going to touch trip wires or step into a trap. This place had to be rigged with them. That much was obvious. She could see all sorts of things that would constitute as evidence from all of the Jigsaw games. When she got closer to the one light that was on she looked through one of the nearby mirrors to see if she could spot anyone in the room as she paused and held her breath. There was a groan and she turned her head towards it. In the corner she saw Mark holding a blood soaked wad of fabric tightly to his face. Holstering her gun, she hurried towards him and got down by his side.

“Mark, what the hell happened?” She asked. He looked at her, his eyes kind of glossy. There was no way he hadn’t lost a lot of blood but he was still conscious so that was good news in itself. Slowly, he pulled the fabric away from his face to show her that half of his cheek was split open. “Shit. We need to fix this.” He nodded, it was clear why he hadn’t called out to her when she’d arrived she doubted he could do much but groan and scream in that condition. She hurried to look through the warehouse to find something that could stitch his face up. The sooner the better. If he showed up at a hospital like that then he’d be caught immediately. There weren’t any real medical supplies in there, not any that would help with this specific injury but she did manage to find fishing wire and a hook. She could close up the wound and worried about infection later. It wasn’t like it would be hard to get antibiotics. Bringing the supplies over to him she got down and threaded the line through the hook.

“This is going to hurt a lot, but it will save your life. I can get you antibiotics after if you need them.” She said as she reached to pull his hand away from his face again. He let out a small groan and almost the moment she touched the hook to his skin he yanked away. “Mark, this has to be done now and…what happened to your hand?” She had only just noticed that it was broken, she could see bone.

“I can do it.” He said, or more accurately she was sure that’s what he meant to say with a huge flesh wound in the side of his face. If he had survived this far he probably could stitch up his own face, she didn’t doubt that.

“It will be faster if-”

“I’ll do it.” He snatched the hook away from her and very carefully got to his feet. She sighed, knowing there was no way to stop him from doing something he was determined to do himself. He hobbled over to the mirror she had been looking into before and pulled the lamp closer to it. Then he took in a deep breath and started to stitch up the wound in his face.

“Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you now?” He asked. This was after she’d been blindfolded in such a way that she couldn’t see anything. Usually, when people messed around with blindfolds there was a lot of room for error. Letting light in or the ability to look down and see shadows. She wasn’t surprised that he knew what he was doing when it came to this sort of thing. “Answer me.”

“Anything you want.” She replied, “Master.”

“That’s a good girl.” He chuckled darkly and patted her on the cheek. She sensed movement around her, first on the bed shifting and then some kind of fabric around her neck. It wasn’t rope, it was something else. Perhaps one of his ties. The weight of the bed shifted again and she was still left sitting there with her arms handcuffed behind one of the posts. There was a pause and she heard a click then felt the cuffs release. There was no moment to recover from this as she was immediately yanked down and out of the bed by the tie around her neck. She yelped as she fell to the floor, with hardly any time to brace for impact. Somehow, she did manage to catch herself but just barely. “Quick thinking, I like that.”

“Thank you, sir.” She replied. The makeshift leash was tugged on again forcing her to crawl forward a bit then another sharp tug indicated that she needed to stop. She could hear him as he walked around behind her then felt his hands on her hips as he shoved her skirt up to reveal her panties. There was the swish of the blade from the knife popping up and the sensation of cold metal against her inner thighs. She gasped, shivered, and groaned softly as he started to cut the fabric of them away.

“My pleasure is your pleasure, your pain is my pleasure, anything I want is for me. Anything you are rewarded with, is just that. You have to earn things here, understood?” He asked then without much warning gave her a rough slap across the ass. She squealed and then nodded her head.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re a faster learner. I wonder what else I can teach you.” He said, sounding very amused as she felt his fingers between her legs moving over the wet folds of her cunt. She groaned, knowing she was far more aroused than she should have been given the situation. He continued to tease her perfectly, as if he were playing an instrument that he was a master of. Working her closer and closer to climax before pulling his hand back to give her ass another slap. This was done in such an oddly timed way that she could never predict it and threatened to drive her insane. She didn’t know how long he had kept it up before she lost enough control to scream.

“Please!” She yelled, “Sir…please…”

“Do you even know what you are begging for?” He asked, “Fucking tell me what you want, Princess.” She whined and lowered her head, it was humiliating and so very fucking hot to hear him speak to her like that. She licked her lips slowly and took in a deep breath through her nose, letting it out through her mouth.

“Your cock, sir.”

“And what do you want me to do with it?”

“I…I want you to fuck me with it.”

“Why?”

“For your pleasure, I…I’m your naughty little fuck toy and I’m only here to serve you.” She breathed, her heart pounding in her chest.

“That’s what I like to hear.” He chuckled and gave her ass another slap. From behind her, she sensed more movement until she could feel the tip of his cock rubbing against her cunt, teasing and touching in all the right places. As she was about to yell out again for him to just hurry up he thrust into her and she moaned loudly. She’d have collapsed forward except for the fact that he had grabbed the tie around her neck and yanked back, keeping her upright lest she wanted to choke. From there he started to pound into her with reckless abandon. Every so often the fabric around her neck would restrict her airflow then release again. When she could draw breath all she could do was let it out as a moan. He’d never been so primal and dominant with her before, they’d dabbled in it sure but it hadn’t gotten this far. She knew she was already addicted to this and would never want it any other way. “Are you going to cum for me? Huh? You naughty little girl…”

“Y-Yes…Yes, sir…” She panted, when he allowed her the air to do so.

“Go on then, cum all over my cock.” He growled. She moaned again, her eyes rolling back in pleasure as his words triggered her climax. He moaned then as well, almost louder than her. The walls seemed to shake with the passion of it and she could nearly feel it vibrating through her as she hit her second climax then a third. Suddenly, the leash around her neck was released. She fell forward, unable to keep her weight up any longer. Then he was on top of her, pulling her close to him as he moved them both onto their side. She could do nothing but lay there basking in the afterglow of her orgasm feeling the rapid beat of his heart against her back. She silently hoped she’d never have to face a moment where such a motion ceased to exist when his blood would eventually run cold.

“You did a good job.” She said, once he was finished working on his face. It was quite impressive actually. Using just that dirty old mirror and some fishing line. She didn’t think she could have done it to herself even if it also meant the choice between life or death. “I have a first aid kit in my car. I can use that to see what I can do about your hand.”

“Be quick,” He said, “I don’t suppose you brought any painkillers with you.”

“Nothing heavier than tylenol but you know we are well stocked at home.” She stroked the side of his face that wasn’t injured and stood up. “Why did you need me to come here, this does seem like something you could have handled on your own.”

“I could have.” He said, reaching out to take her hand with his good one. He gave it a squeeze, “But that had nothing to do with it.”

“Then what else could it be?”

“Things didn’t go exactly according to plan and I’m going to need your help.” He replied, “Get the first aid kit. I'll explain more when you get back.” She nodded, knowing that his immediate care took priority over something he could explain after. If he seemed to think there was time to sit and talk she wasn’t worried about that before making sure he was stable and in as good of health as he possibly could be. As she exited the warehouse again, to get to her car, the gravity of the situation hit her. She had to pause for a moment, catch her breath, and try to stifle the tears that were threatening to fall. In all of this time, though she’d seen him injured, she had never seen him come as close to death as that. She’d also never in her wildest dreams expected for him to say anything about his plans not going as he’d devised them. How bad was it that he wanted her involved? She didn’t know. What she did know was that if someone had done this to him with the intent to end his life, she wanted revenge. Possibly even more than he believed he did at that moment.

#costas mandylor #mark hoffman #horror #saw franchise #saw movies #mark hoffman x oc #mark hoffman fan fiction

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philhoffman · 1 year

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Got home from the airport late and exhausted last night so I watched this week’s Monday Philm today! Since I just saw John Mulaney’s new stand-up special about his time in rehab and recovery, I decided to keep up the theme with When a Man Loves a Woman (1994), starring Meg Ryan and Andy Garcia.

This one has grown on me. At just over two hours it’s a little long, but it still grabs your attention even when you just have it on in the background. Maybe it’s because of how frazzled the Mulaney special left me (very funny because there are things you just have to laugh about in recovery but also left me thinking about the not-so-funny stuff), but When a Man Loves a Woman was really moving today. Parts of it still feel like a mix between a Hallmark movie and an after-school special, but it’s a really clear-eyed portrayal of alcoholism, the ups and downs of having a relationship with someone fighting an addiction, and a non-linear recovery journey. The little girls just break my heart. Garcia is fantastic (and so handsome) but the kids make the film for me, it wouldn’t be half as impactful without their performances.

I think this might be one of PSH’s least talked about roles. Like, even his other bit parts are mentioned relatively often but hardly anyone brings up Gary! It’s a very brief performance but he’s full of emotion every second. A perfect example of a Hoffman performance that makes you feel like he is a fully-fleshed out person outside of the film and we’re seeing just a few brief vignettes of his life as it intersects with Alice’s. So authentic.

And I say this every time I watch any Philm because it’s always true for whichever character I have seen most recently—but he the most beautiful boy in the world here! What a heartthrob, put that sweet gorgeous baby face on the cover of Tiger Beat!

Justice for Amy who didn’t deserve to be overworked and yelled at so much by Alice and Michael!!! Childcare workers should unionize

#so cute and physical and affectionate his big oversized t-shirt. gary I love you #monday philm #when a man loves a woman #philip seymour hoffman #psh #*#I've pavlov's dog'd myself into Needing these movies every week. when it's been more than seven days I feel my brain start melting

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solarishashernoseinabook · 2 years

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Solaris reviews Mrs. Perivale and the Blue Fire Crystal, by Dash Hoffman (2017)

Oh hey, my first time doing a review of a book in a post where I haven't posted excerpts from it first! In that case, let's start off with a bit of a summary, shall we?

Summary: You know that tumblr post that says that you'd expect more prophecies to focus on old ladies, and someone said they'd love to read a book about a little old lady saving the world with her cats and a devoted orderly? Well, Dash Hoffman turned that post into a book. Mrs Perivale is an elderly widow who goes to the land of Corevé with her seven cats and her butler to save the world. On the way, the cats start talking, she meets a dragon and a small race called the Inklings, and she discovers she always had the power to make a difference, even when she felt like her age might prevent that.

Content: It's not bad, but not stellar. The plot is a fairly standard portal fantasy fetch quest, with really very little work needing to be done by any of the characters, where they face only very simple obstacles. There were no great mysteries, shocking twists, or deep struggles. Don't take that to be very negative, though: I think the book achieved what it set out to do fairly well.

Who I think would like it: Honestly, this book was quite light, and so theoretically would appeal to a wide audience. Young teens or young adults would probably like it best. This book would be nice if you want something you can easily pick up and put down as needed. If I was still in school and was trying to fit in some reading around exam season, this would be something I'd turn to.

Things it does well: I did like Corevé, as well as Chippa Mari. Mrs Perivale was nice, too. The worldbuilding was simple, but the places they visited were imaginative and nice. I found the book a very light read, so I was able to turn my brain off and enjoy it with a cup of tea. I liked the description of Chippa, a very small creature only about a foot tall - there was a charming sentence early on where it's said he "spoke in a tender voice not much bigger than he was", and the way his speech was written was very distinct, making it immediately clear he was speaking without having to look for dialogue tags. There's also a good segment where the characters have to deal head-on with their insecurities and weaknesses, which I thought was handled well.

Things that could be improved: To be perfectly honest, I wasn't much a fan of the talking cats, because at that point they stopped sounding or acting like cats, but after a chapter I adjusted to it and was able to proceed just fine with the rest of the book.

This book was self-published, and it shows. Much of the prose could use tightening up, and Hoffman's grammar needs a fair bit of work. Sentences were easily comprehensible, but there are references to "wooded forests", the author confused "claw" with "foot" a few times (resulting in the rather bizarre sentence "[the dragon] had three forward toes and one rear toe on each claw"), every semi-colon should have been a comma (save for two that were used correctly), dialogue and accompanying tags were punctuated incorrectly (dialogue in quotation marks should generally not end with a period, and the ensuing tag should not start with a capital letter), and there was a chapter towards the end that had a lot of scene and perspective changes with no accompanying text break to clearly mark them. Note to aspiring authors: you always need an editor. Your friend reading over your work is not a substitute for a proper editor, even if your friend got really good marks in English class in high school. If you think you don't need an editor, you definitely need an editor.

Generally, though, the grammar isn't a big enough issue. If it sounds like your type of story, go ahead!

My review: Going in, I expected this book to be a lot more humorous than it actually was. Instead, it set out to tell a more sincere story of realising your self-worth and how you can contribute regardless of your age - old or young. I found the story a bit simple, but as I said, that did contribute towards making the book a fairly light read. This is a very safe book, with very little content likely to trigger anyone, which makes it good bedtime reading and good for younger audiences as well. I found this to be, quite honestly, a fairly middle-of-the-road book: not amazing, not terrible; my life isn't hugely improved by having read it, but nor did I feel like I wasted my time on it. I'm glad I read it once, and I think other people would enjoy it as well.

Does this book have…: ✅= yes ❓= not sure ⭕= possibly/mixed ❌= no

Romance? ❌

Sex? ❌

Racism? ❓ ⭕ One of the cats, Tao, is a Siamese who falls into a few mild Wise Asian Mentor stereotypes. She's regularly described as "meditative", and speaks in a philosophical way that's highly reminiscent of how a white person would try and write a wise East Asian person. Her ideal paradise is a Zen garden where she can meditate in peace. It's more stereotypical and overdone than anything else, and given how bad The Great Zoo of China was (review here) I might be reading too much into it. Note that I'm white. An East Asian reader might feel differently about Tao's portrayal, and may consider it more or less racist than I. This was my impression of it, but do not take this as authoritative.

Sexism? ❌

LGBTQIA-phobia? ❌

Ableism? ❌ I would actually argue the book goes a bit too far in the opposite direction - Mrs Perivale is seventy-three, but moves as spryly as a woman fifty years her junior, and apparently has no issues with her hearing or sight. Some references are made to her taking medication, but she goes without them for perhaps a day or more with no ill effects, nor does she have any issues after walking for days on end across rough terrain. Having her struggle a bit more would have added to the immersion and helped her arc feel more satisfying when it concluded.

Swearing? ❌

Drug/Alcohol references? ❌ There are a couple references to Mrs Perivale's "medications", but no mention as to what the medications actually are, and her taking them gets only a passing reference when it happens.

References to or actual violence or suicide? ❌

References to or actual animal death or cruelty? ✅ There's one animal death and some injury in the book, and references to fantasy creatures being killed and cruelly captured. For the most part, these are quite minor.

Recommended: Yes

#solaris reviews books sometimes #mrs perivale and the blue fire crystal by dash hoffman #book reviews

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nclkafilms · 3 years

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Politically impotent, but highly entertaining courtroom drama

(Review of ‘Trial of the Chicago 7’)

*Warning: contains minor spoilers*

To say that the autumn release of Aaron Sorkin’s ‘The Trial of the Chicago 7’ felt timely following a summer of numerous instances of police brutality against peaceful #BlackLivesMatter protesters would be an understatement. To say that Sorkin’s high speed courtroom drama is revolutionary in any way whether as a film or a contribution to a political debate would - on the other hand - be a serious overstatement. From the sharply constructed and fast paced opening sequence where all our main characters are introduced with fast editing, upbeat music and brilliantly written shifting dialogue, Sorkin’s main mission (or ultimate fate) is clear: ‘Trial’ should above all be entertaining filmmaking.

Its story does not seem as the obvious fit for an entertaining story, however. In the shadows of the Vietnam War’s growing number of fatalities, various protest groups plan to come to Chicago in 1968 for the Democratic Party Convention to voice their contempt towards the US’ involvement in the war and the military service procedures. The protests, however, end in violent confrontations with the Chicago police. In the aftermath of these confrontations the leaders of the different protest groups are prosecuted for inciting riot and breaking various other laws. It is the battle between the Nixon administration and their oppositions represented by Students for a Democratic Society, the Yippies, several smaller figures and for some reason Bobby Seale and the Black Panthers (actually making it the Chicago 8), although they did not take part in the protests. The film follows their trial at the hands of eccentric and controversial Judge Hoffman combined with flashbacks to the events of the protest.

The film won the SAG ensemble award and that stands perhaps as one of the single least surprising awards of this awards season. ‘Trial’ is - as hinted at by the title - an ensemble piece if there ever was one. The film has no real lead, although Eddie Redmayne as Tom Hayden (SDS), Sacha Baron Cohen as Abbie Hoffman (Yippies) and Joseph Gordon-Levitt as Richard Shultz (Prosecutor) might be at the centre of attention. All involved actors have clearly had a good time with their roles portraying them with great enthusiasm, but for most parts also some degree of limitations.

Redmayne’s Hayden is the typical “good guy” who forgets to stay seated when the group protests the judge and continues to argue with Abbie about their political opinions and especially the manner in which they want them implemented. Redmayne does a decent job, but Hayden never really unfolds as a fully fleshed character to me. I do not feel that Redmayne ever really becomes his character and that is main reason why I never fully connected with him. Baron Cohen has run away with most attention for his portrayal of Abbie Hoffman, which I think partially is down to the fact that he is a somewhat unusually dramatic role for the Borat-actor. Cohen is without a doubt a better actor than he might be acknowledged as, and Abbie allows him a chance to show that. It is, however, still in combination with his classical sarcasm and wit that Cohen fully succeeds with his character. Through a returning stand-up routine throughout the film, Cohen’s Hoffman functions in some ways as a narrator and might be the closest we get to a leading role. He also gets to deliver the most touching lines of dialogue in my opinion as he takes the chair towards the end. Finally Gordon-Levitt tries his best to convey the mixed emotions and increasing doubt as Schultz faces the choice between blind loyalty and his devotion to the law. While I always love to see Gordon-Levitt on the screen, I cannot help but feel that Schultz as a character feels highly constructed and I had a hard time believing him to be that sympathetic towards the Chicago 7.

In many ways, I found Mark Strong as Jerry Rubin, John Carroll Lynch as Dave Dellinger and Mark Rylance as the defendants’ attorney, William Kunstler, to be more fascinating characters than both Hayden and Schultz in particular. Mark Strong continues to be more and more interesting and his Jerry Rubin is easily the most enjoyable character along with Cohen’s Hoffman. Strong, too, manages to balance the vulnerability of the sometimes blue-eyed Yippies with their sarcastic distancing and humour-driven protests in the courtroom. I actually believed in his character, when both the protests and the juridical proceedings become too overwhelming for him and he snaps in various ways. Carroll Lynch is an almost criminally underused actor and here I, too, would have liked to explore his character more as he feels so different from the remaining defendants. With the limited material he gets, he manages to create a sympathetic character. The same can be said about Rylance, who uses all of his theatricality as be battles with Frank Langella’s overdone Judge Hoffman. Langella gives it everything and then some to make Hoffman as unscrupulous, derailed and amoral as possible, which ultimately cooled my resentment towards him. He ended up feeling like a caricature more than an actual character and for that, way less scarier.

How come - despite all the characters’ flaws and limitations - that the film is still entertaining, then? Well, the main answer is Aaron Sorkin. While he is still to fully proof himself as a director (Molly’s Game also had some issues), he still is one hell of a writer. You can accuse him (rightly so) of over-writing his stuff, taking to many freedoms with his source material and balancing on the edge of using too much pathos, but it is hard to resist his razor sharp dialogues and tongue-in-cheek one-liners. He is no stranger to courtroom dramas and it is clear that he is on home-turf with all of these juridical and political exchanges of beliefs. For this reason, alone, ‘Trial’ never feels dull or slow. Additionally, this is aided by an often fast-paced editing and the fact, that it never dwells to long on one point before moving on to the next.

This, however, also stands as the main reason as to why the film never feels anything other than impotent as a political work. It never gets too dangerous or too controversial. It gets most dangerous, when it comes to the inclusion and portrayal of Bobby Seale and the Black Panthers. As Seale, extremely talented Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, is highly forgettable mainly down to the fact that Seale is reduced to a prop in the overall story. During the film, the court is accused of including Seale in the trial in order to scare the jury with a black man; adding a layer of racial injustice to the story. But in reality, it also feels as if Seale’s story line has been added to the film to “tick off” the race box; Fred Hampton is also thrown in there as Seale’s legal counsellor with his untimely death just briefly touched upon. The story of Seale, Hampton and the Panthers deserve more time, more attention and more gravity than given here; an initial opinion of mine that was only made clearer after watching ‘Judas and the Black Messiah’.

Ultimately, ‘The Trial of the Chicago 7’ is a highly flawed film and as a political work it stands as oddly harmless and undaring considering its timing and topic. However, thanks to another fast paced and sharp script by Aaron Sorkin, inspired performances from its all-star ensemble lead by Baron Cohen and Jeremy Strong and interesting plot it ends up as a highly entertaining courtroom film. A well-looking, satisfying meal, although it does not last for too long and leaves a somewhat questionable taste in the very back of my mouth.

4/5

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filminvasion · 3 years

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Licorice Pizza movie review

Paul Thomas Anderson usually makes movies in a category all his own so it’s nearly impossible to know how to compare his new romance “Licorice Pizza” with anything else, even with his last romance “Punch Drunk Love”. All I can say is that it’s a strikingly original piece of work, headlined not by known actors, but by two young newcomers: one of which I would hand a best actress statue to right now, the other should be headed to his first nomination at very least.

They are Alana Haim and Cooper Hoffman (actually son of late, great actor Phillip Seymour Hoffman). She plays Alana, a 25 year old photography assistant who meets the eye of Hoffman’s Gary, who is merely 15 but his confidence and former career as a child actor has left him carrying himself as way older than his years. They are meant to be but obstacles keep throwing them for a loop: the age difference, his immaturity, her need for a more stable career, other suitors for both, and differing needs that the other cannot seem to meet.

Anderson seems to mean all this as a satirical tour through the 1970s. In the opening moments Gary flies to New York for a reunion of the TV show he was once on- a corny ‘8 is Enough” retread who’s lead actress (Christine Ebersole in a drunken stupor) and co-stars have seen better days. From there the entrepreneurial Gary tries to make ends meet a different way- which sets him on track selling water beds (cause “mattresses are for squares.”) at the beginning of that craze. The oil crisis, the uneasy mix of homosexuality and politics, and more enter into the story as well.

The movie as a whole has no real straightforward plot: it’s essentially Alana and Gary trying to find themselves amidst all the upheaval of the 70’s. Along the way they meet strangely out-there personalities, like the real life John Peters (Bradley Cooper), a raging hairdresser who was dating Barbara Streisand at the time. Alana also tries to get in on the acting craze herself, and along the way, begins dating an older man (Sean Penn) supposedly modeled off of the actor William Holden. Both performances from Cooper and Penn are downright nutty.

What works the best though is Haim; her Alana is common to women at the time- still expected to look a certain way, be a certain way, and never get her real due. Haim shows us there’s a firecracker underneath just waiting for a spark and that mix of volatility and adolescent naivete leads to some very funny and relatable scenes. Hoffman, too, is gifted way beyond his years. Gary’s confidence and entrepreneurial spirit is infectious, as is his charm. The chemistry between these two works- it’s not based on sex so much as it is a partnership of two people making their way in the world and growing together as they do it.

The title of the film is for some reason taken from an old chain of record stores. I kinda liked its old title of “Soggy Bottom”, in reference to the waterbeds. Honestly Anderson could have named it anything though- it’s a madcap, episodic whirlwind jaunt through California in the 70’s that has a clear love for the era, it’s music (David Bowie, Paul McCartney, and The Doors on featured on the soundtrack), and the young idealists trying to find their place in the world. Its magic is an easy thing to feel- just don’t ask me to compare it to some of his other work just yet.

#licorice pizza #paul thomas anderson #pta #movie #movies #film #films #movie review #movie reviews #bradley cooper #sean penn #alana haim #cooper hoffman

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charliejrogers · 4 years

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The Trial of the Chicago 7 (Or, Sorkin’s attempt to show you how nothing has changed in 52 years)

If you know anything about Aaron Sorkin, the much-acclaimed writer/creator of television shows like The West Wing, The Newsroom, you know that subtlety is not his strong suit. So, I was rather hesitant going into his newest film, The Trial of the Chicago 7, the infamous trial of eight gentlemen accused of conspiracy to incite violence/rioting in Chicago during the notorious 1968 DNC riots. Without diving too deep into the history, August 1968 was not Chicago’s finest hour. When the protesters chanted as a warning to the police, “The Whole World Is Watching!”, they weren’t wrong. Years ahead of the 24-hour news cycle, people all across America (and across the world) were glued to the TV watching the Chicago police beat the ever-living snot out of young folks protesting the Democratic Party’s decision to support the ever-controversial war in Vietnam. The film’s subject matter is sure to draw parallels to and resonate strongly with both the protests and civil unrest that took place this past summer following the death of George Floyd and countless other Black folk at the hands of police. So despite it’s appropriate timeliness, I was hesitant to watch this movie because I really wasn’t interested in watching Aaron Sorkin (who not only wrote but directed this film) try to mansplain to me that the trial of the Chicago 7 was all about injustice! Without knowing anything else about the trial beforehand (and I really didn’t), I already knew it’s a famous case of injustice. I wanted to watch the movie to learn about the people, the humans involved, and the nuance of the situation.

The film gets off to a rough start in the nuance department. After an effective montage introducing us to six of the eight members of the Chicago 7 (we’ll get to why there’s that numerical discrepancy), we meet the character who will be the lead prosecutor of the case: a straight-laced, clean-cut lawyer played by Joseph Gordon-Levitt. In an attempt to plant the seed early on that the eponymous trial is a sham, the first real scene of the film sees Gordon-Levitt meeting with Nixon’s newly appointment Attorney General John Mitchell who is pissed off that the prior AG didn’t resign from the office until an hour before Mitchell was confirmed. As retaliation, and in line with history’s understanding of Nixon’s pathologic paranoia, Mitchell decides to re-open the case exploring whether there was any conspiracy to incite riots in Chicago 1968. As JGL explains, this was something which Johnson’s AG as well as prior FBI investigations already decided did was not a viable case. The conversation that ensues is a little too on-the-nose. JGL shares his concerns that he doesn’t believe that the Chicago 7 are actually guilty, but Mitchell tells JGL, “then imagine how impressed I’ll be when you get a conviction.”

Of course, this conversation is largely a Sorkin invention, as is the weird decision to try to humanize the prosecutor played by Gordon-Levitt. I say "weird" because the film doesn’t do anything with it. We don’t get a real sense beyond that initial scene that JGL feels guilt or remorse for being a cog in the Nixon machine. The beginning of the film sets him up to be a similar character to David Schwimmer’s fascinating turn as Robert Kardashian in The People vs. O.J. Simpson. But in the end, it’s clear that Sorkin uses him just as a way in the beginning of the film to provide the thesis statement for the film, as if he were writing this script as a college term paper. This bothers me so much because it makes a late-film surprise appearance by Michael Keaton as Johnson’s AG lose a good deal of its impact. It would have been so much better if we as the audience came to the same revelation about the political origin of the trial at the same time that the defense lawyers did.

Sorkin’s lack of subtlety reared its ugly head in a few key moments that caused me to audibly groan while watching this film. Towards the end of the film, one of the more dramatic defendants, the merry prankster hippie Abbie Hoffman (played very well by Sacha Baron Cohen), is on the stand and is asked a particularly difficult question by the prosecution. He pauses. The prosecution asks what’s taking so long. Hoffman responds in a serious tone that runs opposite of his usual character, “Sorry, I’ve never been on trial for my thoughts before.” The film then slowly fades to black. I half-expected to hear the famous Law & Order “chun-chunn” sound next. That’s how cheesy and self-righteous the scene was.

The film’s ending too, where the defendants read off a list of all the fallen soldiers from Vietnam prior to their sentencing, felt a little too Hollywood to be believable… and indeed it didn’t happen that way. Elsewhere in the film, one of the more “prim and proper” defendants, the young head of the Students for a Democratic Society Thomas Hayden played by Eddie Redmayne, reflexively stands in honor of the judge’s exit as is court custom, forgetting that he and the rest of the defendants agreed not to stand. That’s not the bad part. The bad part comes later when Redmayne’s character travels to someone’s home and the Black maid who answers the door says to him, “I heard you were the only one to stand for the judge,” and then the camera just sorta lingers on her disappointment. We get it! The judge is a bad dude! Let’s move on!

Seriously, let’s move on. For all my griping, this is a very good movie. Those instances where Sorkin’s moral heavy-handedness is plain to see are so glaring because for the most part, the movie does a fantastic job of addressing the film’s (sadly still) politically controversial themes (police brutality, the culpability of protesters in starting riots, systemic racism, etc.) with a good deal of nuance. This mostly happens when Sorkin just sticks to the facts of the case, like when dealing with the whole saga of Bobby Seale, the eighth and only Black man of the Chicago 7. The day before the trial begins, Seale's lawyer required emergent surgery. Seale’s motion to have the trial postponed till he receive proper counsel is denied, as is his request to represent himself. Therefore, on trial without counsel, he frequently interrupts the court arguing about the unconstitutional nature of his trial, until the judge, played to chilling perfection by Frank Langella, becomes fed up with the interruptions and orders that Seale be bound, gagged, and chained to his chair. It’s a crazy powerful and uncomfortable scene, among the most haunting images I’ve seen in cinema. Finally, Seale’s case is determined to be a mistrial, changing the number of defendants from eight to seven. Hence, the Chicago 7.

But, the most inspired sequence of the film comes late in the movie when the defense gets wind of the prosecution’s plan to play a recording from the night of the riots where the prim and proper Tom Hayden can be (arguably) heard urging hundreds of listeners to “let blood flow all over the city.” Tom still believes that he would do well on the witness stand, but his defense lawyer (Mark Rylance as William Kuntsler) insists on showing him why this would be a bad idea. The ensuing scene sees Rylance role play the part of the prosecution cross-examining Hayden while the film intercuts scenes of a flashback of the actual events. the “truth” of that night, significantly muddies the water for this case. It by no means proves that the Chicago 7 are guilty of a conspiracy, but it certainly highlights the more human aspect of their situation. How is one expected to keep their calm when their best friend is beaten? And to what degree are people to be held responsible for decisions made in the heat of the moment?

The movie also has also interesting commentary on who should be the “face” or progressive politics, even today: the well-to-do and respectable Hayden or the in-your-face hippie comedian Hoffman? It’s an interesting question that never seems fully explored or resolved. Sorkin seems to land in the camp that Hayden’s respectability merely maintains status quo whereas Hoffman’s flagrant anti-establishment views is required for real change. But I don’t know how much of that is me just loving Cohen’s performance as Hoffman and finding Redmayne’s Hayden to be (appropriately) insufferably pretentious. Sorkin certainly gives Cohen the better lines.

Overall, this is a movie held up by its two primary strengths: its cast and its film structure. Aside from general inconsistencies of the script’s tone and the notable weakness I mentioned previously about overplaying the political motivation for the trial in the film's first 5 minutes, the film is nearly perfectly structured. We are sort of dropped in medias res into the trial and only get the facts of those few days shown to us in carefully placed flashbacks that help to flesh out the drama of the trial. It helps maintain pacing in what could have been a drag of a legal drama.

But really, it’s the cast and their performances that sell this movie. Sacha Baron Cohen is the star in my mind, so perfectly cast as Abbie Hoffman, but Frank Langella as the septuagenarian, prejudiced judge of the case is equally powerful. Yahya Abdul-Manteen II as the Black Panther Bobby Seale lends an air of desperate seriousness to the film, Eddie Redmayne shines as that white liberal dude who takes himself way too seriously, and Mark Rylance is wonderful as the courageous lead defense attorney, particularly in scenes dealing with Bobby Seale. While the whole trial weighs on him heavily as the film progresses, his genuine concern for Seale is palpable.

I spent much of this review telling you the things that were odd about this film, and I stand by that. But as I said, those things stand out because this is such a slick production that the cracks become that much more obvious. It largely avoids Sorkin’s penchant for blunt lack of nuance and offers a story that helps to greatly contextualize the very world we live in. It’s interesting that a story that sees ten men (including their lawyers) fail to win a fight against The Man still feels like an inspiring underdog tale. It resonated well with this viewer, especially as the ending makes clear that justice is eventually served. Yet, I recognize this may be a dangerous tale to tell these days, and why I think the movie is so successful is that it gives plenty of sobering evidence to suggest that justice (both then and now) is by no means guaranteed.

***/ (Three and a half out of four stars)

#trial of the chicago 7 #aaron sorkin #sacha baron cohen

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honey-hippie-harper · 4 years

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The Day Gatlon Fell

(TW: VIOLENCE)

IT’S VALENTINE’S DAY AFSGHJAFSGHJA. I should’ve done something nice but I don’t seem to be physically capable of doing that, sO IF YOU WOULD BE SO KIND TO PLEASE FORGIVE ME AFGSHAFGHAJ. I guess from the title it’s...kinda clear what this is all about, because I like to write about my imaginary complex relationships in Renegades. Yet, I wrote it with love and I hope you like it :’)

This fic is actually a present for those who want to accept it (If you don’t, I understand tbh). But I’m going to dedicate it for the ones who constantly pretend they tolerate me and like my writing, which are my fellow Reneweys: @healing-winston-pratt @obsidianfr3sk @alecjamesartino @nodrianbcyes @everyone-has-a-nightmare . I love you guys SO much. Thanks for being a safe space full of people who share the same mother tongue and laugh at my stupid jokes.

Also @all-weather-is-bad whom I love very much. Thank you for tolerating me to :’) <3 and @ifyouhadntbutyoudid bECAUSE FELLOW LATINA <3 (also your art for HCTTR still makes me cry and I know you like Leroy).

And idk if this matters or not, but, for the ones who understand Spanish, this fic was heavily based upon this (yes, the contemporary dance and everything don’t judge me: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RaaVpaE1XGA

Alec called them the Anarchists, because he called himself Ace Anarchy. And, in a world where prodigies were hurt, mistreated and killed, he also called them hope.

Hope called themselves the Anarchists, and they reunited at the outskirts of the city, and then they marched towards Gatlon when it was still dawning. There were many, many of them, creating a huge mass of people. Some of them were only wearing masks in order to protect their identity, but others, like them, the main circle of Anarchists, were in full costume, including Alec, Ace Anarchy, who was marching at the back of the crowd, for Alec Artino had faked his disappearance (and possible assassination) less than two weeks ago.

As an act of symbolism (in Alec’s own words) the Queen Bee was at the lead, while him, Leroy (Cyanide), stood two steps behind her, with Gerard Hoffman, Atomic Brain, at his right, and Lincoln Palmer, Brimstone, at his left. Behind them were Dexter Hartley, Rat, and the Thompsons. Then, everything was too much, and there were too many people to name them all, when he barely remembered his own name at the moment.

Every distance looked moderately short until you had to travel it by foot, or when you were too anxious to arrive at your destination. Leroy, personally, didn’t consider himself to be anxious per se. At least, that wasn’t the word he would’ve used to describe his situation.

For the first time in forever, Leroy’s mind was making too much noise, and he didn’t know how to make it stop, nor did he know how to decipher what it was trying to say to him. While he marched, Leroy was surrounded by sounds. There were the distant, faint movements of the awakening city, the ring of keys, the dragging of boots, the hasty breaths, the silent prayers, Honey humming to an inexistent melody, while her dress danced to her voice, hanging from her body.

Honey was easily one of the best dressed out of the bunch, which was a very typical Honey attitude from her part. The most meaningful thing in his own costume was the lab coat and the scientific pun, but it was more than enough for him, knowing that, after today, many of the people here wouldn’t be alive anyway, and he wasn’t even sure whether he would make it, either.

By the time they started reaching the city’s main entrance, the sun was covering half of their bodies, announcing they might have “nice” (hot) weather today. For a while, at least. And the heat was so extreme it made Leroy’s temple sweat, as well as the rest of his face, behind the mask. However, he resisted the urge to remove it, as his mind started making too much noise again, when it forced him to remember Alec’s words.

“And, remember, that you are the pain, you are the fire, and I am the courage.” He said, while they were sitting around the campfire, one messy night, running away from the police. “Because courage comes from the same place as fear.”

Leroy didn’t agree with some of Alec’s ways. Hell. He really didn’t. Nevertheless, he was also aware of his own position. He was aware he was a prodigy, and he was aware people were exhausting.

Even before he became…special, people were already picking on him. Leroy had been a punching bag the entirety of his life. First, for being too ordinary.

There was always a defect they could find in him.

When he admitted his father had abandoned his mother not long after he was born, he became the fatherless kid who wasn’t important enough to make his father stay (as if his father being an asshole had been his fault); when his mother met Claire, his other mother, he became the outcast who lived with two insane and sick women who dared to say they were in a serious, romantic relationship (even though they were evidently in love); when he discovered he enjoyed science, he became the weird kid who liked Thursdays, because that’s when Mr. Ruiz used to take them to the lab; when he discovered he was good at school overall and teachers offered him to move him one grade ahead, he became the ugly, creepy and fat nerd kid who lived with dykes and had no life.

And so, Leroy was murdered by his classmates in eleventh grade, in the lab. And when he came back as a prodigy, he became the burden. The fucker. The freak. The disgusting prodigy who should’ve stayed dead.

Because, when it came to people, it was never enough.

It really was never enough.

When they didn’t like you, there wasn’t a limit they wouldn’t reach in order to let you know. They hated you when you were too ordinary, but they hated you more when you were extraordinary.

Being a prodigy meant being your own fight. It meant being out there, in a minefield where everybody was chasing after you, and nobody stopped to help. People were often afraid of the things they couldn’t understand.

But courage came from the same place as fear.

And it was a dark, messed up place that, in the rare cases where it didn’t drive you crazy, it ended up killing you.

Alec’s ideas were extreme and a little twisted, even, but nobody had ever seemed to care as much as he did, and Leroy had to give him that.

He strongly defended that, if nobody did, then there would be a time where somebody would have to, and he had to give him that too. Because, one day, he just decided that person would be him. Because, if not him, then who?

“I’m my own fight. We’re all our own fight. And you should just face that and shut your ass, before you get killed.” Leroy told him the day after he personally met him, when Honey called him, saying the wound in his calf had gotten uglier and he was banned from the majority of the hospitals in the city. At first, Leroy didn’t know why that should’ve been a matter of concern to him, but he ended up showing him at the apartment anyway. When he realized Alec hadn’t learned anything from the previous experience and was already planning the next riot, he felt the burning desire to cauterize him out of spite.

So Leroy cauterized him, with no previous warning. Alec screamed so loud he thought he was going to pass out. But when he was done, Alec thanked him, because, sure, he had nearly fainted thanks to the pain, but the wound was closed and no longer bleeding.

“I won’t get killed.” Alec declared, as if he were some type of almighty god. “But if I do, it will be defending my place and my rights. You say we’re all our own fight. Correct. But, as prodigies, we have to stick together.”

“And why is that, exactly?”

“Because somebody has to fight for us.”

“You want to fight for us.”

“I want us to fight for us.”

At that moment, Honey came into the room, carrying a tray with a steaming cup and a plate with French toast with honey.

“They can’t kill us all.” She said.

“Oh, but they can.”

Before she could answer, Alec spoke again.

“Then how come we’re still here?”

As the hours, days, weeks and months went by, Leroy, beneath all his cynicism and incredulity, realized he cared. And, once he was invested in the cause, he decided he cared enough to believe them.

They couldn’t kill them all, but they could kill some of them. Yet, they would die caring and believing, and defending their legitimate right to having lived in the first place. There were some things they couldn’t take back, but there were others they could stop them from taking away.

Because somebody had to.

And, if nobody wanted to fight for them, then they had to be their own fight.

Leroy had already gone down once, and that was the reason why he was willing to do it again if necessary. There were Alecs out there, who had been born prodigies and judged, mistreated and pointed at because of it; there were Honeys out there, who had suffered from fatidic accidents that had left a mark in them forever; there were Leroys out there, who had been bullied for not being a prodigy, but also for being one.

As long as he was alive, there would be no more Leroys. No more Honeys, either. No more Alecs.

They were their own fight, but they were also each other’s fight.

So, as they marched towards the city, they were carrying tons and tons of weight, even from the pain that didn’t belong to them. Even from pain that had already been silenced.

Silenced like the inert body of a murdered prodigy.

Silenced like the city the moment they saw them come.

Needless to say, they were coming in with previous instructions to show no mercy in case anything went wrong, knowing these people had already been attacked right at the heart of their system (their mayor), but when they saw them walk, they showed no resistance to let them through.

Gatlon City met the Anarchists in a moment that remained suspended into the air, while some of them dispersed to block the entrances and exits, and others stood in the middle of the traffic, creating a human wall that prevented the cars from moving forward.

Traffic lights exploded, as well as display screens, just like the days when authorities were trying to censor a violent riot. Doors became locked, just like the days when citizens were being notified of a group of violent prodigies marching through the city, except this time citizens weren’t the ones locking themselves in. Telephone lines became cut, just like the days when they did that so agonizing prodigies wouldn’t say a last goodbye to their loved ones who lived far away.

They were many. Too many.

And they couldn’t kill them all.

When they realized that, panic started spreading among them.

Queen Bee was still taking the lead, but the lines began to become blurrier and blurrier with every second, as some of the prodigies had to leave the formation in order to silence those who dared to try to oppose.

Gatlon City was a bold, intimidating place, with huge buildings, blinding lights and overwhelmingly wide streets that could swallow you whole if you weren’t careful enough. Yet, it welcomed the Anarchists in a scene that was as surreal as it was fascinating. Out of a sudden, it seemed to shrink before them.

To the elemental prodigies’ hands, the sky started to look as if split in two, fragile and breakable like the green leaves hanging from the trees, which were swaying like Honey’s blonde curls that day at the beach.

It was a public music festival, which they had attended while the Thompsons babysat David, out of pure and classic peer pressure coming from Honey herself.

Leroy showed up late at the beach, after waking up from a seven hour nap (the result of not sleeping at night), given that, despite living together, Honey expressed she hadn’t woken him up because she thought it was only an excuse to stand them out.

Beneath the loud chattering, the live music and the crowding, their presence became as irrelevant as a single grain of sand before it was taken away by a wave, but they still managed to get a decent spot, where they could see the stage from the blanket they were using as seats.

Out of the few bucks they were carrying with them at the moment, they managed to gather enough for a bucket of fish and chips from the food trucks, so they sent Alec to go get it, which left Honey and Leroy alone (though surrounded by people) in the blanket.

It was about time she said something about it, but when she did, Leroy still felt the need to roll his eyes at her until they rolled out of his face.

“You’re the only two people I know who dress like that to come to the beach. It’s honestly embarrassing.”

She was referring to the fact Leroy was wearing jeans, sneakers and a black hoodie, while Alec was wearing jeans as well, and a black T-shirt he had gotten for free at an event in his faculty.

“What are you? A vampire or something?” Upon saying that, Honey got her hands in the cooler and took a can of lime flavored soda from it.

“I don’t like leaving the house without my hoodie.” Leroy responded above the clic and the hissing produced by the carbonation. “It hides my rolls.”

It’s not like Leroy was ashamed of his body. In fact, he didn’t give a damn about it, for he wasn’t one to take care of his physical appearance that much. Nevertheless, having people pointing out defects he already knew he had was annoying and an inconvenience he rather preferred not to go through.

“What are you trying to say to me?” Honey let out a screeching laugh, shaking her head to get her hair off her face, before taking a sip from her soda, very slowly, staring directly into Leroy’s eyes, with an arched eyebrow, not mad, but a little malicious and suggestive.

Whatever she was trying to do, it worked perfectly well, because Leroy could tell the exact part of his sentence where he had gone wrong and dug his own grave. Despite his efforts to conceal it and pretend he didn’t regret saying it, he still felt his face burn a little.

Honey was wearing a two-piece swimsuit that day. A yellow bikini top with white polka dots (“Hope you’re getting a great view because this is the only time you’ll ever see me wearing a bra” “You really are a hippie pothead” “So what?” “Honey Hippie Harper” “Great name, Lery”) and a tight, also yellow with polka dots skirt. The top had a huge white bow tie that fell all the way towards her stomach area, but it’s not like it covered much, and Honey wasn’t exactly the size of a Barbie doll herself (though everybody in Gatlon agreed that, somehow, she still managed to look like one).

Good thing her self-esteem was as high as Everest.

“You’re just jealous I’m so hot it feels like my entire body is catching flames while you look like a poor man’s Dracula.”

“Your lexicon is above the clouds today. Did you teach yourself how to read? And you read Dracula, just by chance?“

“You’re such a comedian. I’m dying. My lungs are aching from laughing so much.” Honey laughed sarcastically, in a flat tone, before taking another sip from her soda. “I had a pretty productive and nurturing self-teaching session yesterday.”

“I see.”

“I did teach myself how to read though, but, just so you know, I read Carmilla and not Dracula, because she came first.”

Being that said, she winked.

By that time, Honey didn’t attend as many feminist movements as before, nor did she lead them, but she still looked pretty invested in her cause and beliefs sometimes, and those were the moments when she looked more like herself.

“The more you know.” Leroy said, between his teeth.

Knowing she had won, Honey didn’t respond anything else on the matter, and reached for her sunglasses instead, putting them on. Then, she kept singing along to the song played by the band, about how the world was going to end soon.

Which was fitting for their current situation.

The entire world wasn’t ending today, but maybe it would, in case they succeeded. Leroy wasn’t the most positive person to have ever stepped on Earth, but, if one thing he knew, was that he was completely able to read and accept facts and get to the truth, and said truth was that Gatlon didn’t have much on its part. A bunch of regular citizens, against a bunch of prodigy citizens, whose mere existence was an advantage over them. And it’s not that Leroy thought prodigies were superior, but, objectively, prodigies could do things normal people couldn’t. That’s what made them prodigies in the first place, and it was part of the reason why they didn’t like them, too.

The terror in their faces made Leroy straighten his back. Above his head, he could already hear the helicopters and planes, both from the press and the government. Still standing in his place, he saw Honey stop. She didn’t hesitate or flinched, but she did stare directly at them. Her lips shimmered, as well as her eyes and the bee hanging from her neck, when the remaining morning sun reached and caressed them. Her expression remained serene, until it wasn’t, and her lips started arching into a sideways smile. With the whole crowd waiting behind her, Queen Bee clicked her tongue and giggled. Then, she waved at the sky, with her eyes grinning as well, behind the mask. Leroy could almost visualize the picture in a History book, in the chapter that talked about the day Gatlon fell.

When he took one step forward, he also saw himself in the frame. Honey, for sure, acknowledged his presence before she continued walking, squeezing his wrist a little, as a reassuring gesture he thought he didn’t need.

With two Anarchists at the lead, the weight of the protest became more evident, but the rest of the recruits were keeping them grounded. Flying prodigies were above their heads, keeping themselves at a prudent distance from the planes and helicopters, becoming an emergency signal for the others. They barked orders, so their companions knew where to aim.

The cocky individuals holding guns while standing in the sideway were attacked from behind and killed on spot. Some others didn’t have it that easy, for they were grabbed by extra arms or tentacles and smothered to death. Others were stabbed by flying pieces of glass or other sharp objects. And the one man who thought he was clever enough met Leroy’s palm, and while he tried not to step on his agonizing body (like Honey did) with a face now looking like a melted candle, he didn’t feel anything when he heard him wail in pain.

In fact, Leroy felt so blinded by adrenaline he couldn’t feel anything at all.

The only thing that managed to make him snap back into reality for a short while, was the warmth that later turned into almost unbearable heat and left them with a lack of oxygen for a short while.

Aracely Thompson, Dome, stepped forward and, with a stomp of her foot, translucent, golden chains rose from the ground, trapping the main Anarchists (plus Jerome and her) in a wide intangible circle, which chains melted into each other once the area was delimited, and turned into a see-through bubble. The ones from the outside could see them, but not hear or touch them, let alone harm them.

Leroy wondered why they hadn’t thought about that before, but he figured they had just thought about how Alec would manage just fine on his own at the back.

Fearless and merciless, they kept on walking the cracking pavement, through the growing chaos, trapped in their bubble with recycled air.

With the traffic suspended, the streets looked empty, as if naked. People had already gotten the message, and they were running like scared roaches, trying to get out of their way. Some were holding their children, some were holding their pets, and others were holding both.

“Where’s Ingrid?” Leroy asked in Honey’s ear, upon seeing a mother run away with her child, who looked around Ingrid’s age.

“At a daycare for single mothers…” Aracely was not a single mother (but she was only married through the eyes of religion. Jerome and her weren’t legally married, and, in theory, her name was still Aracely Brito, but she preferred to be called Thompson, and it was the only last name Ingrid had in her fake birth certificate) “In front of a lawyer firm by Trinity street. So, no matter what happens, don’t touch that building.”

They would have to warn Alec about it, or take Ingrid out before he could reach that daycare.

Some years ago, before Alec arrived to Gatlon, there had been an incident, where a daycare for prodigy children had been destroyed; it wasn’t considered legal, of course, and, through the eyes of the government, it didn’t exist. So, when they contacted the owners to ask them to close it and they refused, one of the gas tanks of the daycare conveniently exploded, resulting in a fire and the death of several prodigy children, which meant that, among a lot of other things, Alec would show no mercy for daycares for regular children. In other words, the entirety of daycares in Gatlon, including the one Ingrid was in.

Alec never forgot, nor did he forgive, and he had a wide knowledge in regards to the crimes Gatlon had committed against prodigies.

They continued on walking through the main street, which led to the main bridge, from which cars were falling like little ants. Nobody truly knew what Alec was planning to do, because he was as pragmatic as he was unpredictable, and the more you hung out with him, the looser the thread your life was hanging from became.

He just said Gatlon would fall.

And when he said something would happen, it usually happened.

Upon reaching the bridge, they were greeted by familiar faces, with familiar uniforms, who maybe thought this would be just another routine intervention. That they would be retouching a line they had already painted some time ago. That they had another chance.

There were uniformed men and women, some in cars, some in tanks, some in patrols, holding their guns and pointing at them, the ones who had made it into the bridge instead of staying in the fight below.

Leroy was starting to suspect a part of them knew it would be useless, because this time they weren’t giving them an option, but, still, in their eyes he could see they were desperate enough to try.

Due to the fact there were so many prodigies stepping on the bridge at once, the ground seemed to be buzzing, as well as the air, and the clouds, and the sky, and the life surrounding them, filled with the distant cries and the echoes of the ones they had lost in the way.

In that moment, when they had already arrived, Leroy drifted away.

He heard the bullets.

Bang, bang, bang.

It was a couple of months ago. They had just taken a government building with brute force, and they had locked it from the inside.

They stayed there for almost a week, until the police finally decided to cease fire and left the area. They had no food apart from some crackers and cheese sticks, they had no water (and no water elementals whatsoever), no electricity and no running water either. If that wasn’t bad enough on its own, some of them were injured or losing blood, and the bullets kept hitting the walls on the outside.

Bang, bang, bang.

Honey had always hated being unclean. Even when she wasn’t in the mood to take care of herself, she kept complaining about how much being dirty disgusted her. Hence, after two days, she sat in a corner and refused to move, until the day they were finally released. Everybody was at the verge of going crazy by then, and so, she decided to stand up and join Alec’s motivational speech about why they were doing this in the first place, in which Leroy was also involved.

Then, when it all went quiet, they just stayed there, with the question “Now what?” floating in the air.

One important part of Alec’s motto as a visionary, was reminding others that prodigies were people too. That they had rights. That they had feelings. That they had needs.

Honey, being herself, started singing Rivers of Babylon out of the blue, and while everybody in the room stared at her like she was crazy at first, suddenly, Alec started harmonizing with her, singing as loud as he did on Sundays, at Mass, dehydrated, hungry and everything.

Leroy just stepped aside, looking in the opposite direction, as if that would make everyone believe he didn’t know those two.

It was useless, because many people had already followed them by the second chorus.

Leroy still remembered the one line he had to drag out of his mouth when Honey placed the lipstick tube she was using as a fake microphone very close to his mouth, and everyone suddenly went silent, waiting for him.

“… When we remembered Zion…”

They went ballistic, almost as if they hadn’t been the ones to take this same building in the most violent way one could think about.

After two or three more cheesy songs that Leroy hated, there was a period of two or three minutes where nobody dared to take a turn in the invisible karaoke, and they realized there was something new there.

Absence.

There were no more bullets.

They were alone.

“I’m not very fond of Miss Harper’s taste in music.” Alec told him later that day, back at his apartment, where they had gone together to check on David and shower. “But it’s exactly what our revolution needs in its darkest times.”

“Because it’s obnoxious and loud?”

“No.” Alec told him, smiling sideways. “Because it’s vibrant. When choosing the head of a revolt, Leroy, everything’s about balance. You are serious, she is vibrant and I am versatile.”

“I thought we were talking about her music taste.”

“Are you implying that a person and their music taste aren’t deeply connected?”

That had been forever ago, compared to now, when the triggers were clicking loudly, and they were staring at their companions from sideways or from above.

Sirens screaming in the distance, along with the citizens. There was pain. There was death. There was blood. There were prodigies.

There was anarchy.

And through the confusion and anxiety, something started moving.

They started moving, at the sides, one by one, to let him through.

Now leading the crowd of Anarchists, stood Alec Artino, Ace Anarchy.

His costume was simple, with the boots, the pants, the navy blue sweater, with the golden A, the gabardine…

And the coppery helmet, made by David himself, shining on his head.

If Leroy didn’t know him well enough, he could’ve sworn he was losing his mind and that his mental health was in an extremely dark place.

Alec used to say David was one of the most powerful prodigies that had ever existed, and that this helmet would be the one thing that changed everything, once and for all. Leroy, who had never finished understanding what David could do, often doubted his words, and, to him, the helmet, if anything, only made him look ridiculous.

But he said Gatlon would fall today, and everyone believed him.

Hard as it was for him to admit it, Leroy did too.

“REMOVE THE HELMET AND IDENTIFY YOURSELF!”

If Honey had been able to speak instead of being completely frozen, she probably would’ve said the man at the front looked, plain and simple, like a cop. Light skin, brown eyes, dark brown hair combed to the side, gun in a trembling hand, afraid of the unknown.

The unknown, meaning Alec standing in front of him, with his hands laced behind his back, and his gabardine flowing with the wind.

“I SAID…!”

“I believe it was clear enough I heard you the first time.” Alec declared, tilting his head to the side. “Isn’t a person entitled to decide what questions they desire to respond to by sorting them according to their level of relevance?”

The man gulped so hard Leroy could almost hear him, and then Alec smirked.

“Can you drop your gun or is it attached to your hand? Because if it is, then I will not bother you again. But if it is not, I am going to need you to put it away so we can have a civilized conversation, like normal people do.”

“You’re… y-you’re not normal. Any of you are! YOU’RE NOT NORMAL, YOU MONSTERS! DROP YOUR WEAPONS, NOW!”

Honey’s bees were starting to present themselves at the scene, flying around her, a little uneasy. Leroy, from his part, felt calm, because this, sadly, wasn’t anything they hadn’t seen before.

“Yeah. That is exactly the problem.”

“STEP BACK!”

Alec refused to obey, and remained firm, right there where he was. Slowly, as if he were trying to mentally torture them, he lifted his right hand up. His fingers were in a very specific position, like he was about to make the sign of the cross on somebody.

It was Alec, meaning that, if he had done that, Leroy wouldn’t have been surprised.

But he didn’t.

Besides, if he had actually been planning to, they didn’t give him time for that, for the very second they saw him move, they shot, and many emergency alarms went off.

The bang was so loud Honey covered her ears, and her bees started trying to shield themselves by hiding behind her, beneath her hair or landing on her skin, never stinging her.

Leroy, from his part, felt his fingertips dripping with acid, preparing himself for the impact.

The impact never came.

Right in front of their eyes, the shower of bullets stops. The smell of gunpowder was still filling the air, and the bullets were still there, as present as ever.

However, they were suspended into the air, and one of them was almost touching Alec’s nose, who just smiled, before saying, in such a low volume Honey and him were the only ones who could hear:

“So be it, then.”

Being that said, he lifted his chin.

The bullets turned around.

Then, they were shot in the opposite direction, at full speed, to Alec’s will.

The man at the front of the formation fell first, followed by many others, with the bullets they had shot themselves, in an attempt to kill them.

They fell, one by one, and soon there were puddles of red on the floor, and other voices barking orders.

Shoot the canyons, they said.

But the canyons fell too.

Bring the bombs, they said.

And Alec waved them away as if they were some type of insignificant thing.

The planes, they said.

And they spun and flew out of control, before falling straight into the water or exploding midair.

Bullets stopped again and killed their shooters.

There was blood.

Tons of blood.

That’s when Leroy felt his heart pounding, upon coming to the maybe horrible realization that never had Alec been so strong.

His powers didn’t act like this.

His telekinesis was a hundred times more powerful.

It was…

It was the helmet

“GET THEM!” He shouted then, snapping Leroy back into reality, making him wonder how much time Alec had waited to say those words out loud.

To use those putrid words, the ones they always used before attempting against prodigies, against them.

If he wanted to be honest, hearing them felt good, but Leroy didn’t react immediately.

First he saw the chaos, when the mass of uniformed men and women melted between the prodigies in costumes, stepping on the dead and the dying, sometimes accidentally.

The massacre began in the rest of the city, as the sky became wilder, the tide started to roar and the screams became the type of symphony one would hear when entering the gates from Hell.

Gatlon City was starting to look red.

But the red wasn’t coming from the prodigies, but caused by them.

“You two stay with me.” Alec commanded, looking both at Honey and him. “I need you to clear the path.”

“Clear the bridge?!”

“Did I make myself understood, Queen Bee?”

Honey flinched the very moment she heard her own alias, and Leroy watched her as she tried to process everything.

“Clear the bridge.” She repeated. “Yes. Clear the…”

Leroy hoped that didn’t include the bodies.

He guessed it didn’t. Alec, after all, didn’t seem to care about that.

“Clear the bridge. Got it.” Leroy nodded.

“Excellent.”

Alec didn’t stare at them, and he didn’t move either, standing in the middle, with his hands into his pockets, and his face held high, feeling the movements all around him, prepared to get rid of any threat as soon as he spotted it.

Honey and Leroy rarely talked about their tactics before putting them into practice, but, just for once, Leroy wanted to do it.

And, of course, it wasn’t possible, because just as Leroy was preparing to grab her by the wrist and drag her aside, she got herself out of his reach.

“Wait! Wait!” she screamed, not because she was desperate, but because she wanted to be heard above the rest of the din.

Fortunately, in an almost surreal scene to watch, her voice caught Alec’s attention, and his green eyes caught hers, listening.

Leroy stared at Honey, both incredulous and speechless.

“A—” She stuttered. “… Acey.”

Acey.

Fucking Acey.

Leroy arched an eyebrow sharply, but Alec nodded, as if approving the nickname or acknowledging she was talking to him.

“I… “

BANG.

An explosion.

A loud, very loud explosion, followed by the smell of smoke and gunpowder. Maybe, if they were at a lower spot, they would’ve smelled the burnt flesh too.

Good thing they weren’t.

That didn’t make Alec less mad, though, for he unnecessarily adjusted his helmet and straightened his back.

“Acey, wait, I��! “

“Maybe not right now, Queen Bee.” He declared, plain and cold, but solemn.

Somehow, Leroy already knew what she wanted to say, and he also knew she would never say it after today, because he knew her well enough.

And maybe he knew him well enough too.

“Later.” He promised, empty.

Then, just like that, sitting in a cross-legged position, Alec levitated, perhaps to have a better view of the city.

Leroy took Honey by the wrist, this time for real.

Alec made the tank shoot in the opposite direction, and then came another explosion.

Back to back, Honey and him waited for the ones who came and tried to attack. Leroy started feeling his own heartbeat in his ears, and his whole body was vibrating, while Honey’s hasty breaths tormented him, trying to convince himself that they were doing fine, and that they were right.

Because they were.

They were just fighting back.

Leroy saw the scene as if he were out of his body.

The two of them, below Alec, but higher than the city, which was in flames; the body to body fights, with a considerable unbalance of power. The Anarchists were annihilating them with not a drop of mercy, nor remorse. The fights were on top of cars. On top of buildings. Through the streets. Pipes were leaking. The sky was roaring and wailing at the same time. Bullets were flying. Cables were hanging. Trees were moving as if made of paper.

Leroy could still feel Honey’s back against his’, and they only separated when they had to meet the officials who were coming into the bridge, before sending them to the top of pile of bodies.

A man came in, and he was a little taller than Leroy, with his head shaved and a bulletproof jacket. He wasn’t holding a gun, but a metallic tube instead. In posture and enraged expression, Leroy could tell he wasn’t a cop. Maybe a veteran, or some dumb fuck who enjoyed hunting season.

First, Leroy got rid of the tube, melting it with his hand, and next thing he knew, he was attacking him, trying to put his whole body weight on him. Leroy resisted and grabbed him first by the wrist and then by the cheeks, which made him wail in pain. Leroy pressed his palms harder against his skin, and it was only then that a swarm of both bees and wasps came in and started devouring the man’s face, gathering together into the burnt cheeks and wrists.

Honey grabbed Leroy by the arm and tried to pull him up, grunting and gasping, until Leroy was lucid enough to help her and got up himself.

At that very moment somebody kicked her back and made her trip forward. Fortunately, Leroy was able to catch her, but his blood started to boil, and, then, he just knew he had gone in a blind assault of rage.

Out of a sudden, he didn’t feel like himself. He could feel his pores dripping, and the acid was so strong he felt his whole body itching; getting into a fight position, he asked Honey to get behind him with a hand motion, which she obeyed, though also in defense mode.

It was a female official this time. Light brown hair tied in a small ponytail and muscular body. Leroy waved his hand, and that was enough to send the acid flying towards her, straight into her eyes and different spots of her skin.

She screamed in pain.

Honey was already fighting another man, but still, Leroy felt the bees surrounding him too, and there was a very specific group that stayed even when Honey moved towards another position, and they buzzed loudly all around him, notifying him when somebody was coming.

“They’re like an alarm.” He recalled Honey saying once, standing in the middle of the kitchen, taking the groceries out of the bags. She was covered in bees, as if they were children asking their mother what she had gotten for then. “They usually see the enemy before I do, so they buzz in their direction. From the outside it looks like I have outstanding reflexes but… Baby, you’re too close to my lashes and it’s giving me the heebie-jeebies, would you mind? Thank you.” A bumblebee flew away from Honey’s eye, to stand above her brow instead.

“What was I saying?” She tapped her chin, making the bees go away for a second. “Ah. Yes. I do have good reflexes, but yeah, it’s usually thanks to them, as well.”

Leroy remained leaned against the door frame, with his arms crossed over his chest.

“So.” She pointed at the counter, now full of groceries. “You’re gonna help me or what?”

Leroy wasn’t scared of bees. He had never been. Not particularly. But when he met Honey, he became immune to them and decided he would never be, either. Sometimes, when he was alone in the apartment and saw a swarm by the door, waiting for Honey to come back, he would even try to talk to them, which was useless and, judging for how they always stung him, they didn’t like it.

Maybe the bees didn’t like him whatsoever, but right here, in the bridge, they were pretending they did, because Honey had asked them to do so.

And yes. Hard as it was for him to admit it, they were useful.

Very useful.

On the other hand, it also made him feel dumb, because he didn’t know how desperate you had to be for your powers to respond to you through another prodigy.

Leroy was stabbed during one of the (very violent) riots. It wasn’t by a cop, but by a regular, non-prodigy civilian instead. It was a deep cut, and Alec got so mad he ordered to kill as many as they had to until they found the one who had done it. While Hell was breaking loose, Honey dragged him like a human crutch towards the park, hiding him behind the bushes.

“Don’t fall asleep or move unless you really need to, and don’t try to cauterize yourself because that shit hurts and you might pass out. Wait for Rina. I’ll send her to you.” Rina was a healing prodigy, and by the time Honey was saying that, she had already been killed, so they ended up sending Gwen instead. “You understand? Now it’s not the time to be the stubborn piece of shit you usually are. That’s not how we’re rolling. You understand?”

Leroy understood, but he didn’t answer. Not directly. Instead, he reached for the small blade he always carried in his pocket and, before he handed it to Honey, he tried to release his power in it.

She stared before grabbing it.

“Don’t let go, Leroy.” She asked, whispering, as she placed the blade in her own pocket. “For all you care, don’t let go.”

And when Honey’s skin touched it without her screaming in pain, he thought maybe it hadn’t worked at all, but a few days later, when Alec came to the apartment and tried to remove it from the dining table (because David was there too and he liked to touch everything), it hurt his palm.

The blade had become poisoned, and it burned everyone except for Honey and himself.

She still had it to this day, and right there, fighting in the bridge, he witnessed the exact moment when she took it out, while he stood behind her, with her bees, that she had lent him.

The sudden war seemed to have gone on forever when Leroy felt the breeze at his feet, produced by Alec’s body cutting through the air. He looked like a ghost. A very tangible and imposing ghost, who stood like a stone looking at the destruction he had caused himself, with his arms behind his back and his eyes closed.

Honey and Leroy came to his encounter, with the “Now what?” floating above their heads, like that time Honey and him had harmonized to Rivers of Babylon.

With sweat rolling down his face through the helmet and mask, Alec smiled sideways, and held his hand towards them, with his eyes showing a mild fuchsia tonality. None of the two, needless to say, knew how to react to that at first, but Honey believed him enough to try, and she wrapped her hand around his’, like a shell protecting a pearl.

And Leroy believed Honey enough to try, and wrapped his hand around hers’, like he was the sand or the water protecting the shell that protected the pearl.

And there they were.

The three of them.

Like the day Leroy met them for the first time. Like the days they travelled together, hiding from the police or not. Like all the days Alec forced them to go to Mass. Like the days they had to sleep under poor conditions, in motels or abandoned buildings, and Alec and him woke up with back pain because Honey always had to have the most comfortable place they managed to get. Like the days one of them was so injured they didn’t know he or she would wake up the next morning, and so they started praying they would.

Repressed memories started coming back, and Leroy managed to dodge every single one of them, although a part of him didn’t want to.

Then Alec stared at them. They were very close together, with their foreheads touching, while the three interlocked hands remained in the middle.

“Courage comes from the same place as fear.” Alec reminded them.

“And the day we decide to burn, they will all come with us. “ Ace Anarchy said.

And then, he lifted.

Honey was the last one to let go of him.

Next, he was gone.

Ace Anarchy stood above it all, like the burning sun, with both his arms extended to his sides, towards the emptiness, and, at the same time, towards the everything.

Leroy took Honey by the arms, putting her aside, as they stared. Maybe in awe. Maybe in fear.

Ace Anarchy looked up at the sky, then at the front again.

All the guns were pointing at him. All the lives were hanging by the thread he was using to sew his way in, and also his way out.

The Earth trembled in fear, and then it shook in pain.

Honey screeched, shoving her nails into Leroy’s arm to recover her balance, though Leroy was also on the verge of falling.

They tried to hold the other up. To force each other to remain standing.

Gatlon City left the ground, light as a feather. The buildings fell, the bridge started to crack, the sea escaped from the place it belonged to, people screamed, screamed, screamed.

Everything was in flames.

The light became brighter.

The wails became louder.

Time became slower.

Time became torture.

Time became endless.

And Gatlon City remained suspended into the air, shattering into little pieces, leaving a trace of blood and flesh.

Then, just like that, it fell.

Gatlon City fell, like a sinking boat.

Like it was nothing.

Like it was made of paper.

And it fell.

And, just like Ace Anarchy prophesied, they all fell with it. And with him.

#renegades trilogy #marissa meyer #Dawnie Writes #Leroy Flinn #Cyanide #Honey Harper #Queen Bee #Alec Artino #Ace Anarchy #Im not an ace apologist #not even a honey apologist #even though i love them i also want them to choke and die bc thats what they deserve #does that mean im only and exclusively a Leroy apologist? yes #yes absolutely #hes my grandpa #Las crónicas de gatlon #el viejo rancio la patrona y el 100tifiko #theres two mexican references here because mexico is so wild i base Ace's movement upon it lmao #TW: VIOLENCE

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dustedmagazine · 3 years

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Dusted Mid-Year Round-Up: Part 2, Dr. Pete Larson to Young Slo-Be

James Brandon Lewis

The mid-year exchange continues with the second half of the alphabet and another round of Dusted writers reviewing other people’s favorite records. Today’s selection runs the gamut from Afro-beat to hip hop to experimental music and includes some of this year’s best jazz records. Check out part one if you missed it yesterday.

Dr. Pete Larson and His Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band — Damballah (Dagoretti Records)

Damballah by Dr. Pete Larson and his Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band

Who Picked it? Mason Jones

Did we review it? No, but Jennifer Kelly said about his previous record, “It’s authentic not to some musicological conception of what nyatiti music should sound like, but to the instincts and proclivities of the musicians involved.”

Bryon Hayes’ take:

Judging from Jenny’s review, Dr. Pete Larson hasn’t really changed his modus operandi much since last year’s self-titled release. Well, he has appeared to have dropped vocalist Kat Steih and drummer Tom Hohman, who aren’t credited with an appearance on Damballah. Sonically, this album feels more polished than its predecessor. There’s a richness that was lacking before, a sense of clarity that Larson seems to have added here. He still hypnotizes with his nyatiti but doesn’t lose himself behind the other players. That sense of mesmerizing repetition of short passages on the resonant lute-like instrument is what sets the music of the Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band apart from other rock groups who play in the psychedelic vein. It’s easy to get lost in the intricate plucking patterns as the guitars and synths swirl about. The rhythms bounce cleverly against those created by the percussion, anchoring the songs to solid ground. Balancing the airy and the earthy, Dr. Peter Larson and His Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band create a cosmic commotion perfect for contemplation.

James Brandon Lewis / Red Lily Quintet — Jesup Wagon (TAO Forms)

Jesup Wagon by James Brandon Lewis / Red Lily Quintet

Who recommended it? Derek Taylor

Did we review it? Yes, Derek said, “’Fallen Flowers’ and ‘Seer’ contain sections of almost telepathic convergence, the former and the closing ‘Chemurgy’ culminating in Lewis’ spoken words inculcating the import of his subject.”

Tim Clarke’s take:

Tenor saxophonist and composer James Brandon Lewis demonstrates his control of the instrument in the opening moments of Jesup Wagon’s title track. Before his Red Lily Quintet bandmates join the fray, he alternates between hushed ululations and full-blooded honks, inviting the listener to lean in conspiratorially. Once the rest of the band fire up, cornet player Kirk Knuffke, bassist William Parker, cellist Chris Hoffman and drummer Chad Taylor lock into a loose, muscular shuffle. Their collective chemistry is immediately evident, and each player has the opportunity to shine across this diverse set’s 50-minute runtime. I’m particularly drawn to the rapid-fire rhythmic runs on “Lowlands of Sorrow,” the gorgeous cello on “Arachis,” and the spacious, mbira-laced “Seer.” There’s something about the mournful horn melody of the final piece, “Chemurgy,” that sends me back to first hearing Ornette Coleman’s “Lonely Woman” — and, just like that, I’m excited about the prospect of exploring jazz again, for the first time in a long time. Great pick, Derek.

Roscoe Mitchell & Mike Reed — The Ritual And The Dance (Astral Spirits)

the Ritual and the Dance by Roscoe Mitchell & Mike Reed

Who recommended it? Derek Taylor

Did we review it? Yes, Derek wrote, “Roscoe Mitchell remains an improvisational force to be reckoned with.”

Andrew Forell’s take:

For 17-plus minutes, Roscoe Mitchell solos on his soprano with barely a pause, the rush of notes powered by circular breathing, as drummer Mike Reed’s controlled clatter counterpoints Mitchell’s exploration of his instrument’s range and tonal qualities in what sounds like a summation of his long career at the outer edge of jazz. It‘s an extraordinary beginning to this performance, recorded live in 2015. On first listen it sounds chaotic, but shapes emerge in Mitchell’s sound, and Reed’s combination of density and silence complements, punctuates and supports in equal measure. After an incisive solo workout from Reed combining clanging metal and rolling toms, Mitchell swaps to tenor and the pace changes. Longer, slower notes, a rougher, reed heavy tone and a lighter touch from Reed. Having not closely followed Mitchell’s work since his days in The Art Ensemble Of Chicago, this performance was a revelation and will have me searching back through his catalog.

The Notwist — Vertigo Days (Morr Music)

Vertigo Days by The Notwist

Who recommended it? Tim Clarke

Did we review it? Yes, Tim said, “The Notwist really know how to structure a front-to-back listening experience, and this is emphatically a work of art best appreciated as a whole.”

Arthur Krumins’ take:

In his review of Vertigo Days, Tim Clarke highlights the “multiple layers of drifting, shifting instrumentation.” It is an album that seems unbound by adherence to a set instrument lineup, and it moves quickly between moods both frenetic and contemplative. However, due to a careful mixing and an unforced approach to genre expectations, it is a surprising and varied listen that bears repeated scrutiny. The touchstones of the sound are at times the motorik beat of krautrock, at others the ethereal indie pop of their melodies and the quality of their singing. It feels like the perfect quirky coffee shop album, just out there enough to create a vibe, but tactful enough to take you along for the ride.

Dorothea Paas — Anything Can’t Happen (Telephone Explosion)

Anything Can't Happen by Dorothea Paas

Who picked it? Arthur Krumins.

Did we review it? No.

Eric McDowell’s take:

In one sense, it’s fair to say that Dorothea Paas’s debut album opens with a false start: A single note sounded and then retreated from, fingers sliding up and down the fretboard with the diffidence of a throat clearing. Yet what gesture could more perfectly introduce an album so marked by uncertainty, vulnerability, and naked self-assessment?

If Anything Can’t Happen is an open wound, it’s a wound Paas willingly opens: “I’m not lonely now / Doing all the things I want to and working on my mind / Sorting through old thoughts.” That doesn’t make the pain any less real — though it does make it more complex. “It’s so hard to trust again / When you can’t even trust yourself,” Paas sings on the utterly compelling title track, her gaze aiming both inward and outward. Elsewhere she admits: “I long for a body closer to mine / But I don’t want to seek, I just want to find.” Instrumentally, Paas and her bandmates manage to temper an inclination toward static brooding with propulsive forward motion, a balance that suits the difficult truth — or better yet, difficult truce — the album arrives at in the climactic “Frozen Window”: “How can I open to love again, like a plant searches for light through a frozen window? / Can I be loved, or is it all about control? / I will never know until I start again.” In the spirit of starting again, Anything Can’t Happen ends with a doubling down on the opening prelude, reprising and extending it — no false start to be found.

Dominic Pifarely Quartet — Nocturnes (Clean Feed)

Nocturnes by Dominique Pifarély Quartet

Who recommended it? Jason Bivins

Did we review it? No

Derek Taylor’s take:

Pifarely and I actually go way back in my listening life, specifically to Acoustic Quartet, an album the French violinist made for ECM as a co-leader with countryman clarinetist Louis Sclavis in 1994. Thirty-something at the time, his vehicle for that venture was an improvising chamber ensemble merging classical instrumentation and extended techniques with jazz and folk derived influences. The results, playful and often exhilaratingly acrobatic, benefited greatly from austere ECM house acoustics. Nearly three decades distant, Nocturnes is a different creature, delicate and darker hued in plumage and less enamored of melody, harmony and rhythm, at least along conventional measures. Drones and other textures are regular elements of the interplay between the leader’s strings, the piano of Antonin Rayon and the sparse braiding and shadings of bassist Bruno Chevillon and drummer Francois Merville. Duos also determine direction, particular on the series of titular miniatures that are as much about space as they are centered in sound. It’s delightful to get reacquainted after so much time apart.

The Reds Pinks & Purples — Uncommon Weather (Slumberland/Tough Love)

Uncommon Weather by The Reds, Pinks & Purples

Who picked it? Jennifer Kelly

Did we review it? Yes, Jennifer said, “Uncommon Weather is undoubtedly the best of the Reds, Pinks & Purples discs so far, an album that is damned near perfect without seeming to try very hard.”

Bill Meyer’s take:

Sometimes a record hits you where you live. Glenn Donaldson’s too polite to do you any harm, but he not only knows where you live, he knows your twin homes away from home, the record store and the club where you measure your night by how many bands’ sets separate you from last call. He knows the gushing merch-table mooches and the old crushes that casually bring the regulars down, and he also knows how to make records just like the ones that these folks have been listening to since they started making dubious choices. Uncommon Weather sounds like a deeply skilled recreation of early, less chops-heavy Bats, and if that description makes sense to you, so will this record.

claire rousay — A Softer Focus (American Dreams Records)

a softer focus by Claire Rousay

Who picked it? Bryon Hayes

Did we review it? Yes, Bryon Hayes wrote, “These field recordings of the mundane, when coupled with the radiance of the musical elements, are magical.”

Ian Mathers’ take:

In a weird way (because they are very different works from very different artists), A Softer Focus reminds me a bit of Robert Ashley’s Private Parts (The Album). Both feel like the products of deep focus and concentration but wear their rigor loosely, and both feel like beautifully futile attempts to capture or convey the rich messiness of human experience. But although there is a musicality to Private Parts, Ashley is almost obsessed by language and language acts, and even though the human voice is more present than ever in rousay’s work (not just sampled or field recorded, but outright albeit technologically smeared singing on a few tracks) it feels like it reaches to a place in that experience beyond words. The first few times I played it I had moments where I was no longer sure exactly what part of what I was hearing were coming from my speakers versus from outside my apartment, and as beautiful as the more conventional ambient/drone aspects of A Softer Focus are (including the cello and violin heard throughout), it’s that kind of intoxicating disorientation, of almost feeling like I’m experiencing someone else’s memory, that’s going to stay with me the longest.

M. Sage — The Wind Of Things (Geographic North)

The Wind of Things by M. Sage

Who recommended it? Bryon Hayes

Did we review it? No

Bill Meyer’s take:

Matthew Sage’s hybrid music gets labeled as ambient by default. Sure, it’s gentle enough to be ignorable, but Sage’s combination of ruminative acoustic playing (mostly piano and guitar, with occasional seasoning from reeds, violin, banjo, and percussion) and memory-laden field recordings feels so personal that it’s hard to believe he’d really be satisfied with anyone treating this stuff as background music. But that combination of the placid and the personal may also be The Wind of Things’ undoing since it’s a bit too airy and undemonstrative to make an impression.

Skee Mask — Pool (Ilian Tape)

ITLP09 Skee Mask - Pool by Skee Mask

Who picked it? Patrick Masterson

Did we review it? No

Robert Ham’s take:

Pool is an appropriate title for the new album by Munich electronic artist Bryan Müller. The record is huge and deep, with its 18 tracks clocking in at around 103 minutes. And Müller has pointedly only released the digital version of Pool through Bandcamp, adding it a little hurdle to fans who just want to pick and choose from its wares for their playlists. Dipping one’s toes in is an option, but the only way to truly appreciate the full effect is to dive on in.

Though Müller filled Pool up with around five years’ worth of material, the album plays like the result of great deliberation. It flows with the thoughtfulness and intention of an adventurous DJ set, with furious breakbeat explosions like “Breathing Method” making way for the languorous ambient track “Ozone” and the unbound “Rio Dub.” Then, without warning, the drum ‘n’ bass breaks kick in for a while.

The full album delights in those quick shifts into new genres or wild seemingly disparate sonic connections happening within the span of a single song. But again, these decisions don’t sound like they were made carelessly. Müller took some time with this one to get the track list just right. But if there is one thread that runs along the entirety of Pool, it is the air of joy that cuts through even its downcast moments. The splashing playfulness is refreshing and inviting.

Speaker Music — Soul-Making Theodicy (Planet Mu)

Soul-Making Theodicy by Speaker Music

Who picked it? Mason Jones

Did we review it? No

Robert Ham’s take:

The process by which DeForrest Brown Jr., the artist known as Speaker Music, created his latest EP sounds almost as exciting as the finished music. If I understand it correctly — and I’m not entirely sure that I do — he created rhythm tracks using haptic synths, a Push sequencer, and a MIDI keyboard, that he sent through Ableton and performed essentially a live set of abstract beats informed by free jazz, trap and marching band. Or as Brown calls them “stereophonic paintings.”

Whatever term you care to apply to these tracks and however they were made, the experience of listening to them is a dizzying one. A cosmic high that takes over the synapses and vibrates them until your vision becomes blurry and your word starts to smear together like fog on a windshield. Listening to this EP on headphones makes the experience more vertiginous if, like I did, you try to unearth the details and sounds buried within the centerpiece track “Rhythmatic Music For Speakers,” a 33-minute symphony of footwork stuttering and polyrhythms. Is that the sound of an audience responding to this sensory overload that I hear underneath it all? Or is that wishful imaginings coming from a mind hungry for the live music experience?

The Telescopes — Songs of Love And Revolution (Tapete)

Songs Of Love And Revolution by the telescopes

Who recommended it? Robert Ham

Did we review it? No.

Andrew Forell’s take:

Songs Of Love And Revolution glides along on murky subterranean rhythms that evoke Mo Tucker’s heartbeat toms backed with thick bowel-shaking bass lines. Somewhere in the murk Stephen Lawrie’s murmured vocals barely surface as he wrings squalls of noise from his guitar to create a dissonant turmoil to contrast the familiarity of what lies beneath. The effect is at once hypnotic and joltingly thrilling, similar to hearing Jesus And Mary Chain for the first time but played a at pace closer to Bedhead. A kind of slowcore shoegaze, its mystery enhanced by what seems deliberately monochrome production that forces and rewards close attention. When they really let go on “We See Magic And We Are Neutral, Unnecessary” it hits like The Birthday Party wrestling The Stooges. So yeah, pretty damn good.

Leon Vynehall — Rare, Forever (Ninja Tune)

Rare, Forever by LEON VYNEHALL

Who recommended it? Patrick Masterson

Did we review it? No.

Jason Bivins’ take:

I was amused to see Leon Vynehall’s album tucked into the expansive “Unknown genre” non-category. This is, as is often the case with these mid-year exchanges, a bit far afield from the kind of music I usually spin. Much of it is, I suppose, rooted in house music. Throughout these tracks, there are indeed some slinky beats that’ll get you nodding your head while prepping the dinner or while studying in earnest. There’s plenty to appreciate on the level of grooves and patterns, but he closer you listen, the more subversive, sneaky details you notice. The opening “Ecce! Ego!” isn’t quite as brash as the title would suggest, featuring some playfully morphed voices, old school synth patches and snatches of instrumentalism. But after just a couple minutes, vast cosmic sounds start careening around your brainpan while a metal bar drops somewhere in the audial space. Did that just happen? you wonder as the groove continues. Moments of curiosity and even discomfort are plopped down, sometimes as transitions (like the closing vocal announcement on “In>Pin” — “like a moth” — that introduces the echo-canyon of “Mothra”) but usually as head-scrambling curveballs. Startled voices or flutes or subterranean sax bubble up from beneath deep house thrum, then are gone in ways that are arresting and deceptive. I still don’t know what to make of the lounge-y closing to “Snakeskin – Has-Been” or the unexpected drone monolith of “Farewell! Magnus Gabbro.” In its way, Vynehall’s music is almost like what you’d get if Graham Lambkin or Jason Lescalleet made a house record. Pretty rich stuff.

Michael Winter — single track (Another Timbre)

single track by Michael Winter

Who recommended it? Eric McDowell

Did we review it? Not yet!

Mason Jones’ take:

Over its 45 minutes, Michael Winter’s 2015 composition slowly accelerates and accumulates, starting from an isolated violin playing slightly arrhythmic, single fast strokes. The playing, centered around a single root note, seems almost random, but flashes of melodic clusters make it clear they're not. After nine minutes other players have joined in and there's a developing drone, as things sort of devolve, with atonal combinations building. By the one-third mark everything has slowed down significantly, and the players are blending together, with fewer melodies standing out. Instead, it's almost more drone than not; and at a half hour in, most of the strings have been reduced to slowly changing tones. As we near the end we’re hearing beautiful layers of string drones, descending into the final few minutes of nearly static notes. It's an intriguing and oddly listenable composition given its atonality. The early moments bring to mind Michael Nyman, and the later movements summon thoughts of Tony Conrad and La Monte Young, but it's clearly different from any of them, and more than the sum of those parts.

Young Slo-Be — Red Mamba (KoldGreedy Entertainment / Thizzler On The Roof)

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Who picked it? Ray Garraty

Did we review it? No.

Ian Mathers’ take:

The 12 tracks on Red Mamba fly by in a little over 27 minutes (not a one breaks the three-minute mark) but the result doesn’t feel slight so much as pared down to a sharpness you might cut yourself on. Stockon’s Young Slo-Be only seems to have one flow (or maybe it’d be more accurate to say he only seems interested in one) but he knows how to wield it with precision and force, and if the subject matter hews closely to the accepted canon of gangbanger concerns, Slo-Be delivers it all with vivid language and the studied, superior disdain of an older brother explaining the world to you and busting your chops at the same time. The tracks on Red Mamba all come from different producers, but Slo-Be consistently chooses spectral, eerie, foreboding backgrounds for these songs, even when adding piano and church bells (on “Asshole”), dog barks (“21 Thoughts”) or even Godfather-esque strings (the closing “Rico Swavo”). What’s the old line about the strength of street knowledge? These are different streets, and different knowledge.

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365days365movies · 3 years

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April 11, 2021: Tootsie (1982) (Recap)

To be clear, I like Dustin Hoffman.

I can’t exactly claim that I’ve seen him in a lot of his most iconic roles, but I’m planning on fixing that this year for sure! On my to-watch list this year and beyond is Midnight Cowboy, Kramer vs. Kramer, Stranger Than Fiction, and Marathon Man at the very least.

But that’s not to say I haven’t seen him in other iconic roles of his, of course. Fun fact: I actually tried to do this project in 2019, and it...didn’t work. But, one of the films I watched that year was one of Hoffman’s most iconic dramatic films: Rain Man.

Oh, and by the way, that movie is not about an autistic man. Or, rather, it’s not based on a man diagnosed with one of the autism spectrum disorders. Instead, he actually most likely had a genetic disorder called FG syndrome, unrelated to the spectrum disorders. Ironic, since Hoffman’s character was the pop-cultural depiction of autism that people STILL refer to quite often, and quite inaccurately. But, obviously, that’s not Hoffman’s fault, and he was good in the movie, to be fair.

I grew up with him in Hook, as the pirate captain himself (I still do his laugh sometimes, it’s weird, I know). He had an underappreciated starring role in one of my favorite guilty-pleasure films, Outbreak (I fucking love that movie, and I’m not ashamed to admit that). He was in Finding Neverland, but I just forgot about that until I looked up his filmography to write this intro. And, of course...Master Shifu.

So, yeah, I actually DO like Dustin Hoffman, despite the fact that his role in The Graduate wasn’t stellar for me. Just seemed kinda miscast, and a little too awkward to be even slightly sympathetic. Then again, he wasn’t really meant to be, so maybe Hoffman was the perfect choice. Even then, he still acted well in it.

And anyway, I watched that movie for two major reasons. One, it was on my list of films to see, and TWO: it was a lead-up to the ACTUAL Hoffman film I wanted to watch this month: Tootsie. After all, I just watched rom-com Some Like It Hot, and if you’ve looked at me schedule, you know what film is coming next. So, this one fits in my planned schedule. Why? Well...there’s a theme.

Yup. I actually picked these movies for a reason. See, here’s the thing: this is a repeated trope in comedies, and I’ve always wondered whether or not it’s...problematic. But, much to my surprise with Some Like It Hot, they actually used the situation to comment on the female experience. I mean, not necessarily really well, but they tried at the very least. And for a film from 1959, that ain’t bad!

Which isn’t to say that it’s entirely clean, of course, but it was far better than I’d expected. So, if 1959 did that OK, how did 1982 do? Let’s find out, shall we?

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

Michael Dorsey (Dustin Hoffman) is an acting coach, as well as being an actor himself. However, he’s not the most successful actor, as he keeps attempting to audition for pieces, only to get refused for nebulous reasons, or refuses them when he disagrees with the director. He might want to take his own advice, for the record.

In the meantime, he works in a restaurant with Jeff Slater (Bill Murray), a playwright and roommate. That night, the night of his birthday, he spends time with an actress friend, Sandy Lester (Teri Garr), and also hits on the majority of women there that night.

As the party concludes, and various people go home, Sandy is abandoned by her date, and Michael offers to take her home. She breaks down crying, and Michael guesses that she’s upset about an upcoming audition. He gives her some coaching advice, and manages to get her to produce the correct emotion for the role. Afraid that she’ll lose it without him, he agrees to accompany her to the audition and enrage her. It’s very funny.

That morning, however, she IMMEDIATELY gets kicked out of the audition, as she wasn’t right for the part. However, when he goes to help her by speaking with an actor on the show, he finds out that the actor is off the show, and is instead getting a part that MICHAEL was supposed to get. Now enraged himself, he goes to speak with his agent, George Fields (Sydney Pollack), and the two have a tense conversation. It’s revealed that because of his difficult nature, he has a terrible reputation in acting circles, and literally nobody will hire him.

Challenge accepted.

Now dressed up as a woman named “Dorothy Michaels”, he goes back to the audition that passed on Sandy. Like her, he’s also immediately rejected by the director, Ron Carlisle (Dabney Coleman), who insists that she’s too “gentile” for the part of a hospital administrator. This causes “Dorothy” to go off, in a righteous monologue that accuses Ron for conflating power with masculinity. Which...yeah, he totally is, and DAMN, it’s a good tell-off!

Producer Rita Marshall (Doris Belack) agrees, and invites “Dorothy” to read for the part. He comes in to read, and in the process meets Julie Nichols (Jessica Lange), to whom he’s IMMEDIATELY attracted. He brushes that off, and the audition commences. From there, he gets the part, which is a regular part on a soap opera called Southwest General.

Now fully invested in the dumbest idea anybody’s ever had, “Dorothy” goes to her agent and tells him the ridiculous news, and asks for $1000 to go shopping for more clothing. Back at their apartment, Michael speaks to Jeff about the whole situation. He notes that he’s doing this to get the money for his play in Syracuse, which requires $8000 to produce.

Sandy is to be cast in this play, which is an issue, as they now need to explain where the money came from, as it’s technically from the part that SHE was refused for, which would hurt her feelings. He lies and says that the money’s from a deceased relative. While in her place, and while she’s in the shower, he decides to try on some of her clothes to get ideas for Dorothy. But when she walks in on him, he lies AGAIN and says that he’s sexually attracted to her. And she reciprocates IMMEDIATELY, which leads to an unintended relationship.

On the set, “Dorothy” finds out that he’ll be kissing John Van Horn (George Gaynes), an older actor who’s clearly a bit past his prime, and makes it a point to kiss every actress on the set when they start on the show. Gross. Michael agrees, and when the scene comes, he improvises and has his character (Emily) hit the doctor instead.

While the director (who’s a DICK, by the way) notes the improvisation, he approves of it, while also discouraging any similar actions in the future, and calling her “toots”. “Dorothy” takes it, rather than talks back. John compliments her on the improvisation, and then kisses “Dorothy” anyway, much to Michael’s shock!

We also find out that Julie, who plays a nurse on the show, is dating director Ron. Later on, though, Michael observes him making out with another actress on stage. Shortly after this, Julie invites “Dorothy” to dinner at her place, which is eagerly accepted. At dinner, we find out that Julie has a young daughter and that her relationship with Ron is...not stellar.

They have a discussion about being a woman in the ‘80s, and the complexities inherent in that concept, which is an interesting theme of this movie! Gotta say, this is a more socially-conscious version of Some Like It Hot, and I really like that! But the conversation is cut short when Michael realizes that he’d promised dinner with Sandy that night, and leaves in a hurry.

Dinner with Sandy is awkward, as Sandy is...Sandy is a lot, to be honest. But, she tells Michael that the woman hired in her stead on the soap opera (who is, of course, Michael himself), is written as a wimp, rather than tough as intended, and that she should change that. Michael agrees, and actively goes against the script to make the character of Emily far tougher. and essentially a feminist.

While this causes some grief to Ron and Rita at first, Dorothy Michaels soon becomes a massively successful and popular actress on the show, and her popularity absolutely explodes. Michael’s wrapped up in the success of Dorothy Michaels, and thinks that she might be able to branch outside of the role of the soap opera. Which is difficult, as his agent points out, because of the simple fact that Michael is...well, Michael.

At a party that his agent invites him to, Michael meets Julie AS MICHAEL. He uses a line on her that she’d mentioned before to Dorothy, only to be met with a drink to the face. Which is fair, as the line was about being honest about wanting to have sex with her, so I get it.

On the set soon afterwards, we see that the show is becoming more progressive, allowing Julie’s nurse character to stand up to John’s chief doctor character. After the scene is done, the director once again calls Dorothy “toots” instead of her real name, and Dorothy absolutely snaps back at him, and rightfully so! In response, Julie goes and invites Dorothy to a weekend in the country, on her father’s farm. Despite some rebuke from Jeff for lying to Sandy AND Julie, Michael as “Dorothy” goes on the trip.

This, by the way, is an excellent time to mention that this film is exuding some real strong, uh, vibes. You know...alphabet mafia vibes. Like, it’s definitely there, heavily leaning towards Julie. Obviously, “Dorothy” is actually the heterosexual Michael, but that’s not helping, just saying. And there’s literally (and absolutely obviously) nothing wrong with that, but it’s so strong at this point that it’s hard to ignore.

On the farm, “Dorothy” meets Les Nichols (Charles Durning), Julie’s lonely and genuinely nice father, if a bit old-fashioned in his views on gender politics. He’s also got the hots for “Dorothy”, which is funny-but-awkward as shit. That night, Julie tells “Dorothy” some very personal things about her dreams as a child, which is a genuinely very sweet scene. And can I just say, that this movie is both funny and quite heartfelt? I love it! Also, again, the vibes...THE VIBES.

Meanwhile, the popularity of “Dorothy” continues to skyrocket, to the frustration of director Ron, but to the delight of producer Rita, who decides to extend her contract with the soap opera by a full year! Oh FUCK! Realizing what the hell he’s gotten himself into, Michael calls his agent, who tells him that it was in his contract, meaning he’s basically fucked.

Jeff also tries to help hi, out of it, to no avail. Just then, though, they get a call from Julie, looking for “Dorothy”. She’s been having her doubts about her relationship with Ron, and she realizes that she’s been settling for Ron and other men like him. And Dorothy’s inspired her to be a better person, and to be honest with others and with herself. Fuckin’ OOF.

Just then, Ron arrives, allowing them some alone time, as Julie is getting ready for their night out. In the process, “Dorothy” reveals that she knows about his indiscretions with other women. Ron proceeds to use the EXACT SAME EXCUSE that Michael used to excuse his lies to Sandy, and it’s well-executed! Good job, writers, that’s pretty awesome.

“Dorothy” promises to watch Julie’s daughter for the night, which proves a bit of an issue, but he works it out. Julie returns later on, having broken up with Ron. Another heart-to-heart ensues, but this one is concluded with a revelation that Julie is lonely, despite the fact that she appreciates Dorothy’s influence and friendship. And then, "Dorothy” tries to kiss Julie. OH

Yeah, Julie’s not exactly chuffed about this as, despite a LOT of “Sappho and her friends” vibes, she doesn’t actually swing that way. “Dorothy” tries to explain, but this is interrupted by a call from Julie’s dad! He asks her out on a date that night, and “Dorothy” accepts. On said date, he FUCKIN’ PROPOSES TO HER! She promises to think about it, and takes the fuck OFF.

And to continue the parade of “Fuck me, I guess” that marching down Michael Street, who should show up at the apartment but John, from the show! Having followed her home the previous night (YIKES BUDDY), he literally serenades her outside of the apartment window, before “Dorothy” lets him in. It’s there that he reveals he’s MADLY in lust with her, and it’s HILARIOUSLY awkward. Thankfully, just as John is forcing himself on her, Jeff walks in on them, interrupting John’s actions, and causing him to leave in shame.

AND FUCKING THEN, after all of that, Sandy arrives at the apartment to find out why Michael’s not returned her phone calls. And Sandy’s a lot, sure, but all of her concerns are completely valid and legitimate. And despite Michael’s impressive ability to lie, he tells her the truth: he’s in love with another woman. Which she absolutely freaks the fuck out about, but whatever, not like Michael doesn’t deserve that.

Having had it with all the drama around Dorothy’s life, he goes to his agent and hilariously recounts to him the whole series of events that’s taken place. Still struggling to find a way to get out of the situation, he goes to work the next day, for an awkward conversation with Julie. She thanks Dorothy for inspiring her to be true to herself, which cuts DEEP, but still says that they shouldn’t spend time together anymore.

Producer Rita arrives with news: the erasure of a reel of footage has forced them to shoot a scene live. Said scene involves a party being thrown for Dorothy’s characters, putting her in the starring role. And THAT is when Michael takes his chance. Dorothy improvises a monologue about Emily’s REAL past, as a twin who tragically died before realizing her dream to become a hospital administrator. Ripping off his disguise, Michael reveals himself as Emily’s twin brother, Edward!

Everyone on stage and at home is SHOCKED, especially Les, John, Sandy, and of course, Julie. And once the cameras stop rolling, Julie now understands everything. She walks right up to Michael...AND PUNCHES HIM IN THE DICK

John asks if Jeff knows, and I break in half laughing.

Months pass. Michael was able to fund Jeff’s play in Syracuse, and goes to meet Les, who lives in the area. The two make amends after an understandably awkward reunion, and they begin the journey to become friends after everything. This prompts Michael to return to the city and speak with Julie, who is...less than happy to see him. Which, yeah, entirely fair.

But, again overcoming the initial awkwardness, Julie is able to admit that she misses her friend Dorothy. And Michael reciprocates, speaking for Dorothy, who is...well, him. He says the following great line:

I was a better man with you as a woman than I ever was with a woman as a man.

And from there...the two decide to rekindle a friendship, with Julie asking to borrow one of Michael’s dresses. And y’know...I’m rooting for those crazy kids.

That’s Tootsie! And, uh...I love it! I LOVE it. I actually think this is a great film, and one of the best I’ve seen this month. But I’ll elaborate...in the Review! See you there!

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robthomissed · 4 years

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Blues vs Kings Game 5 (3-2)

This Season : 14-8-2 Against LA: 2-3

I haven't been able to watch a full game in awhile so this will be fun. Okay that was up and down but i will take that win. I love David Perron. We need to clean some stuff up for tomorrow but this is good.

First Period

love that early power play goal from DP

.....ugh let's not go on the pk this early. Cliffy with the aggressive cross check

dear lord i forgot how stressed i get during games. very tense for no reason

Ville is doing well

i am starting to see some half hearted clearing attempts and that makes me very nervous. clear the zone with authority boys

okay yeah that was a pretty good slash by zach. let's not do that bud

just realized the kings also have a guy named walker who wears 26. that shouldn't be allowed

Bortz is doing a good job with clearing pucks on the pk

justin is having a great game and stepping up at the line a lot. i love this from him

Second Period

schenner doing good work on that first shift

we need to get some o zone pressure going too much time in our own end

vince you can't let guys get in behind you like that. we got away with it but let's not make that a habit

I like these hard shots from torey from the point but i would love if he just waited for zach to get to the front of the net so we had a bit of a screen

not the worst powerplay that time but just couldn't get anything going

nice play by the kings on that goal to make it even but Ville over committed just a bit

these late period penalties are the worst let's just not let them do anything with it

Third Period

ugh not the way you want to start the third. sucks that it went off justin's skate like that

we were looking really good early in the game. we just need to get back to that

soft call on jordan there but the kings player did a good job to draw it i guess

maybe i should just turn this game off because they seem to win when i don't watch

it's so funny to watch vince walk the line sometimes because his feet move so fast sometimes. it just looks a little funny to me

oh no we can't lose sunny. he is so important for us right now. hopefully it's nothing serious

LA doing some serious shot blocking

there is not enough urgency on our part right now

i hate empty net

FUCK YEAH DP

O'Ry made that possible. he had such a great shift and kept that alive

OKAY HOFFMAN I SEE YOU

love the jumping screen by schnner. it makes me miss schwartzy a little bit though

DP post games are my favorites

#20-21 game summaries #blues lb #st louis blues #nhl #hockey

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1dfangirls35 · 4 years

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Voir Dire (N.H.) A fake dating OU about contracts, soulmates and risking it all for love.

Masterlist // Tell Me What You Think!

thirty

The first thing Kelsey had learned about Becca Campos when she met her at their sorority's bid day party six years ago was that Becca planned on becoming an entertainment journalist. The idea had seemed far fetched at the time, the dark-haired girl covered in glitter with a smile as wide as her face hardly seemed like the future host of Entertainment Tonight.

But here Becca was, sitting in a black fabric chair in the center of the hotel room they'd checked into for the occasion, her thick near-black hair pulled back in a neat bun at the base of her neck, staring at a notepad in her hand with interminable concentration. The girl Kelsey had met all those years ago with the big dreams and contagious smile was about to do what she'd always dreamed of doing...sort of.

When Niall had determined that the best way to break the news of his new label to his fans was to tell them everything, Kelsey had quickly suggested a sit down interview with Becca. What better way to thank the girl that helped her through so much of the turmoil than with an interview that could potentially jumpstart her career?

When Niall asked Becca to be his interviewer, she'd screamed so loudly that Kelsey had feared their neighbors might think someone was being murdered. "Me?" Becca had asked with shock. "Are you sure you don't want to go straight to the media or something?"

"Absolutely not Becca," Niall had said. "I want this to be personal. This is for my fans and no one else. And you are perfect for this job."

Becca had been perfect for the job. She'd suggested the hotel backdrop, given Niall a list of points from the media perspective that he should be sure to answer to avoid any more speculation and even offered to help do any video editing--which Niall adamantly refused.

The only thing Becca had done that Kelsey wasn't raving about was, well, bringing in Krystal. Kelsey knew Becca had a point, Krystal was needed to clear the baby drama once and for all, but that didn't make Kelsey like the idea of seeing her side by side with Niall again any more.

Kelsey fidgeted with the edge of the royal blue dress that cling to her legs as she adjusted herself in her seat. She didn't know what she was nervous for, she wasn't the one being interviewed, yet her insides felt like they were trying to work their way outside.

Kelsey would remain a mystery, referred to but never confirmed. Niall thought it best for their current situation, and she agreed. There was a difference between speculation and acknowledgment, and Niall longed to once again keep his personal life private.

Niall sat directly across from Becca in a black fabric directors chair that was just a little too wobbly for Niall's taste. He played with the collar of the grey blazer he had on, beginning to question whether this was the best choice for this kind of interview. Maybe he should have went with the navy sweater, to bring out the blue in his eyes. He shook the thought from his mind, he doubted anyone would care what he was wearing once they heard the words coming out of his mouth.

He glanced over at Becca, her head still buried in her notes. She was taking this thing so seriously, like it was going to be displayed on national news instead of becoming a series of GIFs on stan Twitter. He admired Becca for her work ethic, even though Niall would do most of the talking. He would explain his departure from Capitol, the events leading up to it, and the fact that he was not joining the One Direction Daddy's club quite yet.

There would also be an appearance by Krystal, Krystal who, Niall looked down at his watch, was approximately twelve minutes late. He hadn't seen her since she'd told him the baby wasn't his. He'd sent her a few texts- checking in on things and the baby- but she'd kept things short and to the point, assuring Niall that she was perfectly fine. Niall wondered if he should text her now to make sure she was still coming, especially since Kelsey looked like she was going to start bleeding if she kept chewing on her lip like she was at the moment.

Krystal arrived four minutes later, her cheeks red as she burst into the room. "So sorry I'm late," she announced, tossing her large black tote on the red sofa in the corner in the room. Niall noted that her baby bump was much larger than what he remembered, clearly visible through the crimson dress formed to her body. Niall tried to read her face, but there's a smile plastered to it, masking any emotion other than happiness.

Becca jumped to her feet like she'd just been caught slacking. "Ah Krystal, perfect. If you just want to have a seat next to Kelsey over there, I'm going to start with Niall and then bring you over in a minute."

Krystal offered Kelsey a polite smile as she took a seat next to her, Krystal's hand cradling her baby bump. "I'm glad he's doing this," Krystal said softly, as Becca began giving her final instructions to Niall.

Kelsey turned her head, looking at the blonde girl that for so many months she had hated. Krystal's eyes seemed sincere. "Me too," Kelsey murmured, not quite ready to have a full-on conversation with her former rival. She looked back over at Niall and his eyes met hers for a moment, they're bright and reassuring, reminding her that everything will be okay.

"Ready everyone?" Becca said loudly, bringing everyone's attention back to the task at hand. She looked like a little kid at Christmas, her hands clasped in front of her as if she was moments away from beginning a round of applause.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Niall laughed, and Kelsey heard the nervousness in his voice. She wished she could sit next to him, squeezing his hand through it all.

It all came down to this. Would the fans side with Niall? Would they realize he'd been a pawn in the scheme of a big company and take pity on him for all he'd been through in the past year? Or would they be angry at being lied to and hold it against him?

Becca held three fingers up, signaling to Bradley, the co-worker she'd convinced to help control the camera for the day to start recording after she counts down. When she got to one, she took a deep breath before smiling and stating loudly, "I'm Becca Cam and I'm here with Niall Horan. Now Niall it's my understanding that you have some big news to share with your fans today is that true?"

Kelsey smiled at her friend's bold reporter voice. There was no hesitation in it, like she had been doing this for years. This instantly puts Kelsey at ease. With Becca running the show there was no reason this should go badly.

"That's correct Becca," Niall replied. He internally cringed at the sound of his voice out loud, realizing he resembled more of a newscaster than himself. "I wanted to let my fans know that I have parted ways with Capitol Records and announce the opening of my new record label: NH Records."

"Wow, Niall that is big news," Becca exclaimed, and Niall couldn't help but chuckle at her extreme enthusiasm. "If I can ask, what prompted this switch? I mean Capitol Records is a very prestigious company."

"That's actually why I wanted to sit down with you today Becca, because I want my fans to know what's really been going on over the past few months," Niall inhaled. "A little over a year ago, I met with Capitol in preparation for the release of my new album. We talked about their idea for promotion of the album and I was told that I was to be portrayed as a man in love, and that Capitol had hired someone to act as my girlfriend for PR purposes. If I did not agree to their terms, they would terminate my contract, and there would be no second album."

"So this girlfriend? Is this Krystal Hoffman?" Becca asked inquisitively.

"Right. Krystal was hired by Capitol to portray my girlfriend. They scheduled appearances for us, expected us to go out on dates and so on."

"So you left Capitol because you didn't agree with having a fake girlfriend?"

"That's part of it, but there's more to the story. One night shortly after Krystal and I's first public appearance, I met someone," Niall smiled, his eyes flashing back to when he first laid eyes on Kelsey, her shirt splattered with his beer. "We connected instantly, and although we tried to stay just friends, we couldn't stay away from each other. It kind of felt like we were meant for each other you know? When we started dating, I approached Capitol about allowing me to break up with Krystal and use my real relationship for their PR purposes, but they adamantly refused. They wanted me to continue living a lie."

"Did you break up with the girl?"

"Not then. So when Capitol found out we were still dating, they went after her. They blackmailed her into breaking up with me, and like anyone placed in that situation, she signed their contract and agreed. She was told she could never see me again and never speak about this contract to anyone. I was in a bad place after that. I'd just lost the woman I was in love with."

"But if she signed a contract, how did you find out about all this?" Becca questioned, tapping the pen in her hand against her knee.

"Well," Niall laughed. "I guess that's the part that I would say is all fate. Our paths crossed again and I realized that maybe there was someone else meddling in our relationship. It just didn't seem like her to break up with me so suddenly. The short version of the story is that I finally realized that this girl was worth far more to me than any music contract, and I did some threatening of my own to convince Capitol to drop her contract. Then, I made the decision to drop Capitol Records as my label." Niall said the last phrase with some confidence, it might even fool his fans into thinking that dropping Capitol hadn't been the scariest moment of his life.

"But Niall weren't you seen at an OB appointment with Krystal? Seemed like you were ready to get in on Daddy duty. Are you telling me that was all part of a PR scheme as well?"

"Not exactly. But well, maybe it's better Krystal herself tells you that part of the story?"

Becca nodded, gesturing towards Krystal to come over and take a seat in the empty chair next to Niall.

"Krystal thank you for joining us today," Becca said pleasantly.

Krystal smiled, "Thank you for having me."

"So Krystal this baby business. Is the baby real?"

Krystal laughed, looking down at her baby bump. "Yes, Becca this baby is very much real. But unlike the tabloids have been saying, it is not Niall's baby."

"Then why was Niall at the OB office with you? Was that just part of the PR for the album as well?"

"Actually no. The contract for our relationship ended before that appointment. When I found out I was pregnant, Niall was just," she paused, as if she was hesitant to tell the true story. Krystal looked towards Niall and he gave her a small nod. He needed her to tell the truth, even if the truth meant acknowledging his own faults. The fans deserved the truth.

"He was just the perfect gentleman. He wanted to be there for me. And unfortunately I wasn't exactly honest with him about who the father of the baby was." She paused, biting her lip softly before turning to face Niall directly.

"I'm truly ashamed of my actions and my role in this. I was scared and alone and took advantage of Niall's kindness when I didn't need to. Because after I told Niall the truth, that this wasn't his baby, well he's still been there for me. I just wanted to say," she shifted her gaze from Niall to the Kelsey off-screen. "I'm really sorry for everything that I've put you through. Both of you. The way Niall looks at you, I hope one day I can find someone that looks at me that way. You both deserve to be happy. And I'm hope that telling the true story helps you guys finally get get the happiness you deserve," Krystal's voice shook, and Kelsey wondered if she was about to cry.

Kelsey felt bad for Krystal. It couldn't be easy admitting that she had done something wrong. She surely would get hate for it from the Niall fans- they could be ruthless. And for the first time since she met Krystal, Kelsey feels that her words are sincere, and she wondered if she had truly misjudged her all along.

"So was there ever a relationship between the two of you?" Becca asked and Niall cringed, he hadn't wanted to admit his mistake but he knew he needed to.

"No relationship," Krystal responded quickly. "Just a night with some emotions that shouldn't have happened."

"Thank you, Krystal," Becca said, gesturing Krystal back towards her seat.

As Krystal took a seat, Kelsey noticed her wiping a tear from her eye. "Thank you. For coming and doing this, and for what you said. I know it probably wasn't easy and it won't be easy." Kelsey said softly, and something moves her to place her hand on top of Krystal's and give it a comforting squeeze.

"Before we move on Becca, I just want my fans to know that Krystal is an amazing woman as well. She was simply an actress doing a job. I don't harbor any hard feelings towards her, and I absolutely will not tolerate you guys having any either. Out of all of this, I have gained an amazing friend, and Krystal deserves just as much love and support as the rest of us." Niall glanced over at Krystal who is smiling softly, noticing that Kelsey's hand is on top of hers. He smiles. Maybe the two could finally learn to tolerate each other.

"Well Niall, anything else you would like to say to your fans," Becca straightened herself in her seat.

Niall looked straight into the camera. "The past year has been a challenging one for me, but I've learned so much. I learned that you can't just be a pawn in someone else's chess game and that when you find someone you love you've got to fight for them, and do whatever it takes. I decided to leave Capitol because I could no longer allow someone else to dictate my life. And I couldn't deceive you guys any longer. My fans are the reason I make music, and lying to you- well, it's not me. The music industry isn't always kind to artists, and this may be a career-ending decision, but it's something I strongly believe in. I hope that you will continue to support me from my own label, and I promise you, from now on there will be no manipulating promotional tactics. Just this goofy Irish lad with dodgy knees."

"One last question Niall," Becca smiled. Niall nodded.

"Are you happy?"

"Very happy," Niall grinned, looking over at Kelsey. He didn't break eye contact with her as he spoke again. "She's the love of my life. Honestly. Truly. Our love story hasn't been easy, but I'm really hoping that after today, we don't have to live in fear of someone finding out about us. We can just be us."

"Do we get to meet this lovely lady?" Becca asked, raising any eyebrow.

"I think I'm gonna keep her to myself for a little while. I've had enough tabloids about my relationship over the past year." He looked over at Kelsey once again and she smiled.

***************************************************

Niall hovered his finger over the blue tweet button with hesitance. He glanced over to Kelsey who sat next to him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. She nodded at him, her lips formed into a soft smile.

It was terrifying. The thought that his fans might not have his back. The thought that his record label might not succeed and he would lose his music forever. After I press this button, I'm throwing my phone out the window, he thought to himself.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and pressed tweet. Six simple words with the video link.

It's time to speak the truth.

A/N: That’s the final chapter guys! I will post the Epilogue tomorrow, and maybe the story page for my next fic? Undecided on that one because I think I want to finish writing it before I post (it’s a mini fic) and I’m not sure how soon that will be. Let me know if you have thoughts on that haha

ALSO thank you so much for nominating this story for the 1DCraftAwards. Honestly, there are so many amazing fics on that list that I feel honored to even be on the same list as them!

Tag List: @awomanindeniall , @ihearthemcallingforyou , @niall-is-my-dream , @stylishmuser , @thicksniall

#voir dire #writingby1dfangirls35 #niall ou #niall ff #fake dating #secret relationship #niall horan #nh #1dff #1d #one direction #one direction fanfiction

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amillioninprizes · 4 years

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A Tale of Two P.I.s: How Stumptown Succeeded Where Veronica Mars Failed

A hardboiled female private eye with a drinking problem, a litany of temporary sexual partners, and trauma resulting from her romantic soulmate dying in an explosion that’s partially her fault solves mysteries.

This could describe either the freshman ABC show Stumptown, starring Cobie Smulders as military veteran Dex Parios, or Rob Thomas’s intended vision for an adult Veronica Mars in the wake of the recent S4 that aired on Hulu. Many VM fans turned to the former after the supreme disappointment that was S4 in order to get their kickass lady detective fix; a common refrain that I’ve seen is that Stumptown is the show that adult Veronica Mars should have been. Notably, Stumptown was recently renewed for a second season, while Hulu has declined to order more seasons of Veronica Mars. Now that the pain of VM S4 is less fresh, I recently watched the first season of Stumptown to see if it was worth the hype. Here are the reasons why I think that Stumptown has been renewed for a second season while Veronica Mars has, much like Susan Knight, been left dead in the water:

Dex is a competent detective

Like, I shouldn’t even have to say this, but: if you’re going to make a show about a private investigator, that character should be able to crack cases. Rather infamously, Veronica did not solve any mysteries in VM S4: Keith solved the bomber mystery, Logan solved the congressman blackmail mystery, and Vinnie solved the missing ring mystery. Veronica just kind of floated around being a mean party girl.

Meanwhile Dex, despite being less experienced as a detective, uses her smarts and background as a military interrogator to solve the mystery of the week. She notably utilizes disguises and undercover work, two former features of Veronica’s investigating that were missing in S4. The show also makes a decent attempt to portray the realities of her having to obtain a license to be a PI and work legally, including an internship and dealing with consumer complaints. Contrast this with the proposed future seasons of VM as a traveling detective--something that would be nigh impossible giving licensing requirements.

I think the contrast between the two’s abilities can best be seen in their opening scenes of the season: Dex, at the casino, is able to suss out a married dude hitting on her pretty quickly, comprehensively listing his tells. Meanwhile, Veronica’s first scene in S4 has her randomly smashing a client’s belongings to find hidden cameras and then unprofessionally overcharging her. If that’s how she treats clients, it’s no wonder that Mars Investigations is financially struggling at the beginning of S4.

Stumptown also does a better job than VM S4 of showing why the protagonist chooses to be a detective. For Dex, it gives her stability and a sense of purpose that had been lacking since her return from Afghanistan. On the other hand, Veronica is shown to be somewhat dissatisfied with her life in S4, but it’s never explicitly addressed why; it’s also not examined why she remains in Neptune as a detective when she could use her Ivy League law degree at any time and live anywhere, especially when she appears to no longer have a talent for being a detective. Logan briefly broaches the subject in one scene, but it’s dropped just like every other VM plot thread.

Dex is a marshmallow

As has been covered extensively elsewhere (including the pages of this very blog), probably the largest issue that people had with S4 of Veronica Mars outside of Logan’s death was Veronica’s characterization. Rob Thomas said in interviews that he told the writers this season to write Veronica like a porcupine; the end result was a portrayal that dialed all of Veronica’s negative traits to 11, added new ones, and completely removed the softer aspects of her character that made her such a compelling and complex protagonist. There was an attempt to give Veronica an emotional connection to the bomber mystery via the character Matty, but for most viewers it didn’t resonate due the flat affect of both actresses and poor writing. It was hard to feel like Matty was a sympathetic underdog when she had a wealthy mother ready to whisk her away to Paris for Spring Break. Veronica also doesn’t appear to have retained her former drive for justice; she mostly seems interested in collecting a paycheck (and if that’s the case I again ask why she isn’t using her Columbia law degree). She also weaponizes her white womanhood against a Latino teenager. What a great role model!

Contrast this with the also outwardly caustic Dex, who initially IS only in it for the paycheck. First off, even that’s somewhat noble in that she needs to take care of her adult brother with Down’s syndrome. Yet she quickly finds her sense of justice overcoming her desire to make bank. We see this early in the season when she turns against the PI she is shadowing in order to help a young mother obtain custody of her child from her wealthy, abusive ex-husband. This is also seen when she brokers a deal to protect the privacy of the biological child of a political candidate she’s been hired to find dirt on.

Dex also relies heavily on her support system--namely her brother Ansel, best friend Gray, food truck purveyor Tookie, and even police detective Hoffman. She resists her brother moving out because she’d be lonely without him, and her entire found family are instrumental in helping her with her cases. This isn’t necessarily different from Veronica per se, although Veronica treated her loved ones cruelly in S4. Additionally, Rob Thomas wanted to continue the show without them, despite how heavily Veronica relied on them both to help her with cases as well as emotionally.

Stumptown also shows that even if Dex hasn’t fully processed her trauma, she is capable of growing. She makes nice with her high school enemy after clearing her daughter of suspected drug dealing. Contrast this with Veronica, who punched her high school nemesis at her high school reunion (and for the five millionth time, no one wanted to see that) and was shown to have regressed as an adult to be more immature at age 35 than she was at 17. That didn’t make her seem more cool or noir, just sad.

Also, Dex actually manages to brush her hair. (But srsly I need to know how they get her hair to do that great wavy thing).

Dex’s trauma is thoughtfully addressed

As a corollary to the above point: there was obviously Something Wrong with Veronica in S4, but the show didn’t bother to explain what had transpired between the end of the second book and S4 to explain her seeming personality transplant; as a fellow fan has said, the show pretended to deal with her trauma but glossed over it in reality. For example, in addition to depicting her as being depressed and cruel to her loved ones, she is shown drinking heavily and doing drugs, both of which are out of character for her. Yet the show seems to glamorize it; none of her loved ones express any concern about this behavior and there are no references made to her alcoholic mother, whose actions negatively affected her growing up to the extent that Veronica had previously expressed wanting to avoid becoming like her. But despite the fact that she was obviously struggling with something, Rob Thomas and Kristen Bell stated that they needed to kill Logan because Veronica was somehow not traumatized enough. Apparently, putting Logan’s ring on her finger just magically erased her previous issues (unrealistic and harmful messaging to trauma survivors), and he needed to die because women can only be interesting if they’re damaged (misogynistic). Adding insult to injury was Rob Thomas’s assertion that Logan’s memory wouldn’t play much of a part of the show going forward because it would be too depressing and he needed Veronica to not be consumed with thoughts of him while engaging in “strange sex”, whatever that means. Yeah Rob, it would def be realistic for Veronica to just get over the fact that her husband and love of her life died of a bomb due to her oversight in a year and then continue on her merry way without any support from her loved ones!

Stumptown, however, explicitly connects Dex’s self destructive behavior with her past trauma: in the very first episode Dex is shown frantically texting contacts for a sexual hookup in the midst of a PTSD episode. The most powerful scene of the entire season in my opinion is one where, after experiencing a flashback to her time as an interrogator in Afghanistan, she goes on a bender at home and trashes her house to the soundtrack of Fleetwood Mac’s “The Chain.” (As an aside, I would also like to point out that Stumptown deftly portrays the trauma and grey morality associated with military service, which could have been an amazing (and noir!) storyline for naval intelligence officer Logan in future seasons of VM if Rob Thomas wasn’t such a dimwit).

Additionally, the death of her not quite-fiancé Benny hangs over her, even though the event took place twelve years prior to the start of the series. Even before Benny is introduced onscreen in flashbacks in the penultimate episode of S1, the show does a good job of portraying just how much he and their relationship meant to Dex. The season culminates in Dex finding out that his death in an explosion in Afghanistan was not in fact her fault, as she had previously assumed. Interestingly, the show’s writers considered revealing that Benny had faked his death, but the head writer later stated in an interview that doing so would invalidate the trauma Dex had experienced for 12 years and would ultimately be cruel. While on a shallow level I wouldn’t have minded them bringing Benny back since the actor who played him was super attractive and had great chemistry with Cobie Smulders, the decision the writers made instead makes more sense for the world they have built and is far more thoughtful: it allows Dex to obtain a sense of closure and growth while respecting her grief.

Women over the age of 35 aren’t Satan

A criticism of VM since it originally aired is that the show generally portrays female characters, especially mothers and other women over a certain age, in a negative light (and Rob Thomas has been defensive about it just as long). The books partially rectified this by introducing the characters of Petra Landros, the former model turned owner of the Neptune Grand, and Marcia Langdon, the new Balboa County sheriff with a murky past. Marcia was brought back for S4, but considerably dumbed down and less complex than in the books (and there’s definitely something to be said that the first time a BIPOC woman is shown in a position of power on screen in VM that her character is diminished).

Stumptown, on the other hand, has two women as older female mentors/nemeses in positions of power: Sue Lynn, the matriarch of the local Native American tribe, and Lieutenant Cosgrove of the Portland PD. Both have complicated relationships with Dex: Sue Lynn ended Dex’s relationship with Benny, her son, yet repeatedly seeks her out for help with matters on the reservation. Lieutenant Cosgrove often finds herself at odds with Dex while the latter is attempting to solve a case, though she also encourages her to legally obtain her PI license. It shouldn’t be revolutionary to have complex older female characters as supporting cast on a female-centered show in 2020, but after 15 years of misogyny from VM it certainly feels refreshing.

Where Stumptown falls short

All of this is not to say that Stumptown is flawless. Despite my praise for including older female characters above, the show is still pretty dude heavy, especially Dex’s inner circle. The mysteries of the week are of fairly average quality, and several were reminiscent of some seen in VM’s original run--the season even ends with a “Who’s at the door?” gambit. I also didn’t love the storyline where Grey’s girlfriend gets Dex drunk and tricks her into thinking they had slept together in order to drive Grey and Dex apart--that felt like something out of the mind of Rob Thomas. It also bears mentioning that in the context of current events the generally positive portrayal of the police department and Dex’s close relationship with them should bear more scrutiny. And while the show is well done overall, it never quite reaches the emotional resonance of original flavor VM (but then, neither did VM S4).

Despite those quibbles, I think it’s a good show overall. I felt like as the season progressed the creative team figured out what worked and the cast seemed to gel together. I love the classic rock soundtrack (another area where VM S4 failed, given that it abandoned VM’s signature indie soundtrack for generic pop music), which in conjunction with Dex’s wardrobe gives the show a fun retro feel. By the end of the season I was firmly won over, and I look forward to S2. Hopefully the writers of Stumptown paid attention to the backlash to VM S4 as a lesson in what not to do going forward.

#surprise bitch you thought you'd seen the last of me complaining about VM S4 #well think again #also this turned out way longer than I thought it would #i deleted a whole section on the stylistic choices in Stumptown vs. VM #Veronica Mars Hulu revival #Stumptown #Veronica Mars

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laylacooke · 4 years

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Carry On || Evelyn & Layla

timing: monday night (6/15) after the bar fight with francesaca. parties: @thronesofshadows & @laylacooke summary: evelyn has a heart-to-heart with with a vain werewolf that just came from a bar fight.

The bar fight turned out to be more than she could handle. Layla was proud, but after a few swift punches, she had just gotten angry, and did things she probably shouldn’t have. But as she hobbled the streets of White Crest in the late-night hours, she held her head high in accomplishment. Plus, there’s nothing a little foundation and concealer couldn’t hide, if need be. But even as a wolf, who now fed on a healthy diet of whatever she wanted, she knew all the meat in the world couldn’t fix the fatigue, cuts, and bruised ribs in a jiff. And when a bench came up, she found herself sitting on it, needing to catch her breath.

She was out for a small walk. Evelyn knew that being out late could draw unwanted attention, but that had never been something she minded too much at all. She was not a fan of Soul on the Rocks. In the few times she’d been by, it had resulted in a lot of men looking at her in ways that made her track down where a few of them lived and give them nightmares. She wasn’t planning on going in tonight - just out for a walk when she spotted someone - a redhead who couldn’t have been even of legal age to drink (not that Evelyn was by any means expert in guessing ages, but she had a feeling she was correct in this case), who looked to be in very poor state. She could have just continued on her way, but she’d been spending enough time around people who seemed to genuinely care about others, and it was starting to get to her. She brushed her hands against the skirt of her dress and sat down next to the girl. At least she was wearing her contacts. “Are you quite alright? Do you need me to call a doctor?”

Layla could smell someone coming, and when they sat down next to her, she raised her head to address them, “Just peachy.” A doctor? A doctor was the last thing she needed. Although, the last time she was there, they had given her some pain meds that had made things interesting. But right now, she couldn’t even remember the contact information for the person that had reached out to her, and while every fiber in her being wanted to get up and blow off the kindness the lady was offering, she didn’t have it in her, “And no. No doctors. I’m not exactly in a position to be talking to doctors.” Which was true, considering doctors knew cops and cops could arrest people. And bar fights weren't exactly on the list for law abiding citizens, “Nice accent, by the way. I take it you’re not from around here?” In fact, the woman had looked familiar to Layla, now that she was getting a better look, but she couldn’t quite place her face.

“You do not,” seem peachy, Evelyn wanted to say, but it was not her place. “I only mean, you do not look especially ready for going for a late-night walk.” She raised an eyebrow. “No doctors then. That is fine.” For a moment she found herself wondering if the girl was supernatural, if she had physiology that, like Evelyn’s, made it difficult for her to see a doctor. “Not originally, not.” She let a soft smile cross her face. “I am from England. London, to be precise. I have been here for just over four years, but the accent is not something I believe I will ever be properly rid of. Not that I would wish to be.” Evelyn pulled out a small handkerchief from her bag and handed it to the girl. “This is not much, but perhaps it will help work on those cuts. Wait,” she paused, pulling out a small set of band aids from her bag (a habit she’d made herself have since she was little. Quick and easy repairs in case she got a cut, because explaining why there was blue when there should have been red was too much to worry about) and held one out to the girl. “Better than a doctor, hm?”

She listened, through the pain, as the woman explained her background. And then it hit Layla. She had seen this woman before. In magazines. Her hometown confirmed and connected random circuits in her mind, “The accent’s pretty amazing. I wouldn’t want to lose it either.” She noticed the handkerchief and took it. Evelyn’s command had stopped her, and when she saw the band aids, a smile slipped over her lips, “So much better.” Taking those in her hand, she slowly shifted her weight and began wiping the blood from the various wounds, “By the time I get done with all these band aids, people won’t recognize me.” She laid the handkerchief on her lap and took one of the small band aids to stick on her arm, “By the way, loved that spread in Vogue you did.” She took a slow breath as she continued to try and doctor herself up.

“Thank you.” Evelyn offered the girl another smile. “I will admit, I think it assists in getting what I want. Well, that and flashing a pretty smile.” The other girl accepted the band aids and Evelyn filed that bit of information away for later use. She knew the other girl wasn’t mara - her injuries gave a clear sign of that - but maybe there was something else. Or perhaps she just didn’t want to go to the doctor, which was valid enough in its own right. “Well, you have a lovely face, I should hope people will still recognize you.” She startled for a moment at the comment about Vogue. “That was ages ago. Also, small, nothing totally cover worthy.” It had been a nice story though - one of her birthdays, something her father had pulled. Multiple pages. Something he’d done that showed that he did care about her. “So, you have an interest in fashion?” Evelyn grabbed one of the band aids and made quick work of it, placing it on the girl’s arm. “Well, then I figure you know who I am. Evelyn Hoffman, pleasure to meet you. Would you mind telling me your name?”

“Yeah, no problem. I mean, let’s face it, you are hot.” She could say that. Layla may have had a slight crush on her growing up, but she had long since grown out of it. Frankie was her one and only, aside from an intoxicated kiss with Ariana. But even as dark as Layla’s heart was right now, it still only beat for one other person. “Thanks. Sometimes it gets me in trouble. Hence the bar fight.” She shifted, her ribs bothering her with each breath she took, “I liked it. And as embarrassing as this is going to sound, I had that photoshoot hanging on my wall at home. But yeah, I like fashion, when I can afford fashion.” She wasn’t exactly dressed to the nines. Honestly, she had stolen her current outfit from a nearby store earlier in the day knowing she wanted to go out on the town. Showing no emotion, as the band aid was placed on her arm, she continued to listen to Evelyn, “It’s nice to meet you, and you already know my name actually...It’s Layla. We’ve talked before, online.”

“I suppose looks do get you places,” Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Thank you, your endorsement is appreciated, and I have learned that more Americans than I would have believed recognize me.” She nodded along briefly, a small giggle escaping her lips at the girl’s next comment. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. Consider it a plus in my book.” She winked at the other girl. “I appreciate anyone who appreciates fashion, and it is sorely lacking in appreciation in this town. LL Bean makes good quality products but that is not exactly life changing, though they have a slightly nicer line, now.” She’d looked into it when she’d ordered clothing for Alain in the week that he was at her home. “Oh, Layla! My apologies, I do remember you. Also, though this is not an ideal way to meet, this town seems in favor of me meeting people in bizarre ways, so you are right in line with that.” Evelyn glanced around them - the sidewalk was relatively clear, all things considered. “Can I get you something? Something to eat, or anything? If nothing else, this area of town at night is less than ideal.” I can handle myself, but I am also not keen to out myself to you, no matter how nice you may seem.

“Uh yeah. Do you think they would have let me into a bar, underage, if I looked anything other than what I do?” Her vanity coming through, she straightened up her posture slightly, proud of herself, “Not to brag, but I’d say I’m pretty hot. At least my girlfriend thinks so.” This was far from who Layla was. Yes, she used to take pride in herself and how she looked, but it wasn’t a big deal. Evil!Layla, on the other hand, loved the way she looked and used it to her advantage. “You know, I think those pictures are still hanging up in my room, back in Tennessee. And LL Bean. Is that even still a thing?” A disgusted look came over her face, “Give me a nice pair of Louboutin’s or Red Bottoms any day.” She continued to doctor herself up while the conversation carried on, “Don’t apologize, and no, it’s really not, but I’m still glad to finally meet you in person.” She opened another band aid and stuck it on herself, “At least someone else thinks this town is totes messed up.” Looking herself over, she noticed one other cut she had missed, “But I think I’ve had enough drinking for one night. Call me crazy, but whatever it was I had tasted like gasoline. I went more for the chaos anyways.”

So, she’d been correct about the girl being young. Evelyn gave herself a small bit of internal congratulations. “You do have beautiful features. I am glad you have a girlfriend who appreciates it.” She offered the girl a small shake of her head. “Well then consider me doubly honored.” Evelyn gave a small shrug. “Yes. Practical clothing. I too prefer Chanel or Valentino, but we are in Maine and many like practicality, so I suppose they must find some way to stay in business.” She clicked her tongue against her teeth. Marley probably would have told her to feed on the girl - but, despite all her injuries, she hardly seemed scared, and Evelyn shrugged it off. This girl was barely over the age of eighteen if she was over that at all, and that was a no in Evelyn’s book. “I am pleased to meet you as well, Layla.” She knit her eyebrows together at the girl’s comment. “Oh, I was not offering to buy you alcohol. I meant more like a sandwich or something. I might be able to bribe the owner of a couple restaurants around here to open. However, it is not necessary. I would not recommend drinking something that tastes like gasoline - or petrol, if you would like me to highlight how English I am.” She winked at the other girl. “Regardless, I think we should avoid chaos for the evening and perhaps go for a walk. Have you seen the Common at night? It is beautiful.”

Evelyn was fluffing Layla’s feathers and it made her feel good about herself. She liked this woman. “I know.” Her smugness remained as they continued to discuss clothing, “Ugh, what I wouldn’t do for Chanel or Valentino. But you’re right. I mean even the name of the state sounds boring...Maine.” She finished doctoring herself up and passed the remainder of the band aids back to the woman next to her, “You’re a peach.” Standing up, Layla stretched and slowly popped her back and neck, “And thanks, but no thanks. Not really that hungry, but a walk would be nice, I suppose. Can’t commit robbery every second of every day, now can I?” She winked at Evelyn as she moved away from the bench. “

“I suppose it is a bit ordinary, but for all that it is small, I do find this town quite lovely.” It was true; it was not something that she would have ever believed possible, and even though this town had many more humans than Evelyn would have hoped for, she did find a certain comfort in it all. “Thank you…” her voice trailed off, eyes tracking the girl as she got up. Making jokes about robbery. Evelyn let a light giggle escape her lips. “Good one. Well, we can go for a walk, if you wish - particularly if it keeps you out of trouble.” She stood up and talked to where the girl was standing, holding out her arm. “Shall we?”

#para: carry on #thronesofshadows #saga: the dark side #wickedswriting

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aspoonofsugar · 5 years

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The Role of “Hate” in Pluto

I have just finished Pluto and one of the things I found the most interesting about it is how it explores the concept of “hate”.

The ending is very clear in its condemnation of it:

However, more than this, what I find fascinating is how the story arrives to this point and what this conclusion means. As a matter of fact hate and other negative emotions like sadness, anger and grief are all portrayed as very human emotions which are very common and difficult to avoid. So, this meta will try to explore this idea further.

Pluto is a retelling of one of Osamu Tezuka’s stories which is called The Greatest Robot on Earth.

Because of this, I think that a good way to go at it when analysing it is to ask ourselves what the greatest robot on Earth should be like.

This is professor Tenma’s answer:

As a scientist Tenma wants to recreate human nature through an AI. Humans hate, feel sadness and lie, so a perfect robot should be able to do these things as well.

Let’s underline that this idea which is fully expressed by Tenma is prepared throughout the narration in several ways far before Tenma makes it explicit.

For example, Brau 1589 states that no malfunction has been found in his AI. This is because him killing a person does not make him less perfect, but actually better than other robots because it makes him closer to a human. This is once again clarified by Tenma when he visits the robot:

Similarly, Atom says something interesting here:

On a less darker note, the narrative offers several examples of minor human weaknesses robots are not supposed to share:

In a conversation he has with Gesicht, Hoffman states jokingly how a robot who skips work could be considered progress. This is perfectly coherent with the ideals embodied by professor Tenma’s character.

This idea might seem to endorse a pretty negative perspective of human nature. This is certainly partially true given Tenma’s cynism and his status as a person who has escaped from society and so who avoids interactions with other human beings as much as possible.

However, when it comes to Tenma, I think that what he thinks about hate and human imperfection is something a little more complex than that:

Tenma created Atom to somehow “resurrect” his son who died in a car accident. However, he soon realized that Atom was not Tobio. First of all he does not mature like human children do:

Secondly he doesn’t share Tobio’s feelings and imperfection. He can try to imitate them, but when it comes to a feeling as complex as the one of hate he doesn’t know what to reply to Tenma.

So, for Tenma the negative traits which made Tobio human are the ones he misses the most and Atom lacking them is why he decides to sell him and to leave him behind.

This is to highlight how Tenma’s vision of the world is not simply one driven by scientific curiousity and a sense of nihilism. Those two are aspects definately present in him and they make up a great part of his personality, but they are rooted in Tobio’s death and in Tenma’s inability to overcome grief:

This is made clear by Tenma’s reaction to Atom’s death and to his willingness not to respect any moral or scientific bounds in order to have him back:

Here Tenma is doing something very similar to what he did when Tobio died. He chooses to do what he can to bring his son back even if he knows that he might be giving birth to a demon.

This is important when we consider Gesicht’s story and his role.

Gesicht, like Tenma, is a father who lost a son in a horrible way. His reaction to this loss was pure anger and hate for the child’s killer. The hate was so strong that motivated him to kill a human being despite this going against the robotic laws. It is obvious that if one takes out the fantascientific setting the situation is already one with which we can empathize. Gesicht is portrayed as a very moral person. This is no surprise since he was programmed to be a robot cop. However, when a great injustice hurt him personally he gave in to revenge and broke the law. This is the core of Gesicht’s character and his struggle.

This is important for at least two reasons.

1) The first one is that Gesicht killing the man out of hate is relevant when it comes to his and Mr Haas’s subplot:

Mr Haas’s wife suggests that Gesicht (being him a robot) could not have killed Haas’s brother motivated by such a negative feeling as hate. She argues that what happened must have happened out of necessity while Gesicht was trying to fulfill his duty.

The idea that robots not having emotions can be considered something which makes them better than humans is touched on several times. Here is an example:

A judge whose judgment is not clouded by emotions can be considered better than one who can become irrational due to feelings.

In short, it seems logical to think that Mr Haas’s anger towards Gesicht would be misplaced if the robot killed without hate and justified if the robot killed with hate.

However, this is not how things play out in the end.

As a matter of fact it is specifically the fact that both Haas and Gesicht acted moved by hate that lets them understand each other:

Finally, it is the fact that Gesicht still chose to protect both Mr Haas and his family despite what had occurred between them what finally motivates Mr Haas to change idea about him and hopefully robots in general:

In other words, it is not the fact that Gesicht is unable to feel hate which makes him better than Mr Haas, but the fact that he was able to overcome it. This is what gets through to Mr Haas and inspires him to be better. After all, if Gesicht was simply a person without emotions it would be difficult for Mr Haas to relate to him and it would be easy for him to keep hating the robot as someone inhuman. However, the fact that the two of them are flawed in a very similar way, but that Gesicht still chose to abide to some sort of moral code (like his duty as a policeman) is the proof that Mr Haas has the chance to do the same.

The way things were sorted out between them makes sense also considering Mr Haas’s backstory. As a matter of fact his and his brother’s hate for robots was born by the fact that they were considered better workers than humans and that this led to the brothers’ father being fired. What is more a robot’s too strict application of the law is what led to the man’s death:

The robot was technically right since the brothers’ father had stolen, but at the same time all he stole was a ball to give his children some joy.

In other words, arguments about how robots are better than humans and superior to them are bound not to have the right effect on someone like Mr Haas since his hate is born partially by this exact idea. However, seeing how similar to him Gesicht was managed to obtain some results.

2) The second reason is this:

Throughout the story this scene seems to be a part of an extremely dark memory Gesicht is trying to suppress. He is literally haunted by this scene and it keeps coming to his mind when he sees robots’ bodies among other things. In short, everything leads the reader to think that what happened between Gesicht and the man asking money out of him is something negative.

However, when we are finally revealed the context of the scene this is what we discover:

Gesicht’s memory was not an unhappy one, but on the contrary it was him remembering the day he became a father. In other words it is the day Gesicht learnt parental love.

At the same time this scene is at the origin of Gesicht’s hate and violent action. As a matter of fact one can not choose to only have positive emotions. If one feels he is bound to deal with both the good and the bad of it:

All in all the story if full of love being used to fuel hate and of hate overcome by love.

This becomes apparent in the character of Sahad aka Pluto:

This abstract sign is identified by Atom as a negative feeling and when we meet Pluto for the first time he has been realizing works of abstract art:

This picture might seem chilling at first sight especially if the reader realizes that the robot who has drawn it is Pluto. Uran herself is led to Pluto because she can feel his immense pain and she wants to help him.

However, as Sahad spends more time with Uran in a somehow positive environment he starts to remember what he was originally created for aka his father original wish:

And so what seemed like an abstract mirror of a pained subconscious becomes a wonderful field of flowers able to move Uran to tears.

After all, the whole conflict is born by a huge dream being destroyed by war and by a man losing his children and his wife.

What Abra/Goji wants is revenge and it is meaningful that he tries to obtain it through three cyborgs (counting Goji himself) who were originally created to turn the desert into a field of flowers.

The example of Bora is self-explanatory:

He was supposed to be a robot who could save the planet, but he has been turned into a weapon which could destroy humanity instead.

In short, negative feelings are a part of being humans and they are strongly intertwined with positive ones. These two points come together in Atom’s “resurrection”. This part of the plot is also linked to Gesicht’s arc and his role as a father.

Atom is able to wake up thanks to Gesicht “hate” and Epsilon’s “sadness”:

After his awakening he is said to be able to feel hate and this is proven true during his battle against Pluto:

This in itself is important and can be used to make some considerations:

Here Brau claims that Atom has matured to which Atom’s reply is that he can not grow since he is a robot.

This is interesting because the fact that Atom can not grow is one of the reasons why Tenma realized that he was never going to be like Tobio. The other one was Atom’s inability to feel hate. These were the two main reasons why Tenma considered Atom a failure.

However, after his awakening Atom has learnt what hate is and he is said to have matured. What Brau noticed was probably something more similar to a change happened in the inside rather than one happened on the outside.

In other words Atom has grown not because he has matured physically, but because he has now a better understanding of human emotions among which hate.

This is no different than a child growing up and having to learn the complexity of the world and to make sense of their negative feelings.

After all, given Tenma’s description of the perfect AI here:

It is difficult not to think of it as a child aka as a being who has in front of themselves all the possibilities and who will grow to become only one of those possibilities.

In a sense this is very similar to what was said in Monster:

Children can become anything and the parents have a great role in influencing their future developments.

This becomes obvious through Gesicht and Atom’s relationship.

As a matter of fact what Atom learnt from Gesicht is not only what hate is, but also this:

He learnt how to overcome it and that humanity is not just hate, but also hope:

This is why the manga ends with a wish and a prayer which are actions born out of hope:

Let’s also underline how the bomb formula Atom writes down after he wakes up is not just something born out of a new found hatred for the world, but it is probably something he learnt thanks to Epsilon who realized that the Earth was in danger just before dying:

Let us also underline how “sorrow” (aka what Atom learnt from Epsilon) plays a part in the ending just as much as “hate” does. As a matter of fact once Atom overcomes his hatred he starts crying and so does Pluto and the two comment how strange that feeling is. It is also interesting how Epsilon’s death, just like Gesicht’s one is linked to a child. As a matter of fact the two robots both survived a fight against Pluto and gave up the chance to kill him only to then die trying to protect a child.

This is linked to the last point of the analysis i.e. to how Atom surviving is representative of the importance of protecting children and in this way the future itself.

After all, throughout the narrative Atom is paralleled to Gesicht’s child, so it is meaningful that in the end he survives thanks to Gesicht’s sacrifice. At the same time he is the one inheriting Gesicht’s legacy like a child who is taught by a parent. Even if the parent messed up he has still the chance to teach the child to be better. So, Atom is able to put into practice what Gesicht learnt and is able to connect with Pluto.

In conclusion, to answer the question which started this analysis I would say that the Greatest Robot on Earth is not the strongest or the one who exhibits somehow better qualities than humans, but it is a robot who is human and who at the same time is able to learn from humans (like the robots developing emotions by imitating human behaviours), but also to teach humans to be better:

This is evident also in how Brau develops. Brau has always been an AI very similar to humans since he managed to develop hate, but after his meeting with Atom he starts to understand something else. He calls it “a heart” and he is able to feel it both in a person as noble as Atom and in a person as despicable as the President. The fact that in the end he chooses to kill Doctor Roosevelt instead of the President underlines a choice the character makes. Despite how much imperfect humans are Brau still chooses them over an AI who is incredibly advanced and intelligent, but lacks a “heart”.

#naoki urasawa's pluto #naoki urasawa's pluto meta #pluto meta #my meta #gesicht #pluto #tetsuwan atom #uran #professor tenma #umataro tenma #epsilon #naoki urasawa

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