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amphtaminedreams · 5 years ago

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50 Films You’ve Got to Watch

Hi to anyone who’s reading,

I thought I’d take a break from the fashion posts to ramble on about something else that I’m really interested in for a hot minute. And I say ramble with intent, because I do go ON.

The topic is film and I thought that I’d make a list of my 50 must watches. These are movies that I feel had the biggest impact on me which means, yes, I do have tattoos referring to a couple of them, lol. My genre of choice is usually horror and although there has been a bit of a “horror renaissance” and a shift towards prioritising good quality storylines over jump scares in recent years, on the whole, they typically aren’t the most highbrow films out there, so there aren’t THAT many on this list. Most of the horror films I listed are just genuinely good quality rather than a straight-up gorefest or anything too terrifying, however, I’m not that easily scared so if you did fancy watching any of the films I mentioned, take that with a slight pinch of salt!

Also, this isn’t anything to take too seriously. I really like movies and cinema but I’m also not a movie critic and this is more of a hobby than something I want to pursue. Like, I’m completely aware of how unrealistic working in TV or film is as a career if your family isn’t loaded. Very aware. Painfully aware you could say (imagine me sighing as I’m writing this). That being said, part of me does want to do a ranking of every film I’ve seen in 2019 at some point this year, so if anybody else is interested in this kinda thing let me know!

Lauren x

50 Films You’ve Got to Watch:

1. Black Swan (2010)

“I felt it. Perfect. It was perfect.”

I watched Black Swan years ago now and I still remember how disturbing I found it and how exciting that was to me. I was probably a bit too young (young enough that my mum felt it necessary to cover my eyes during the Natalie Portman/Mila Kunis sex scene, lol) but even then I could recognise that it was a beautifully haunting film and Darren Aronofsky has gone on to be one of my favourite directors.

2. Jennifer’s Body (2009)

“And now, I'm eating your boyfriend. See? At least I'm consistent.”

Engrave it on my tombstone: JENNIFER’S BODY DESERVED BETTER. I fully believe that if this movie was released in 2019, it wouldn’t have faced half the criticisms it did back in 2009. It genuinely was ahead of its time. Megan Fox? As a boy-eating, demonic cheerleader? And Amanda Seyfried? Some of the most ICONIC DIALOGUE EVER? It should’ve invented a GENRE. Instead it got paid DUST. Yes, when I write in caps lock, my internal voice is YELLING. I feel passionately about this, okay?!

3. La La Land (2016)

“I guess I'll see you in the movies.”

Again, maybe it’s a basic film bitch opinion to have but I adored La La Land. I saw it at the cinema and spent the last 20 minutes of the film sobbing, only to find my mum and sister distinctly underwhelmed. I indignantly ranted back then to them how perfect a film it was and I’m going to do the same thing now so if you are reading and you didn’t like it, then you should probably just move on because I wouldn’t want to read myself banging on about Emma Stone again for several paragraphs either (don’t worry, I’ll try and keep it to one). I can’t help it. This film was just TOO REAL! Like, in every way but the actual plot and characters, La La Land has the dreamlike quality of a fairytale. The colours are rich and thick and always complimentary, the musical sequences are either like Disney songs or lullabies, and Emma and Ryan Gosling are made for each other. But then life and ambitions and resentments get in the way. And that’s the real part! That’s why it’s so bloody good!

4. Easy A (2010)

“People thought I was a dirty skank? Fine. I’d be the dirtiest skank they’d ever seen.”

And so we arrive at the movie that actually began my love affair with Emma Stone. Iconic. Iconic in every way. The bad reputation montage is cinematic excellence. For real, though, this is so underrated as a coming of age movie. Like don’t get me wrong, Mean Girls is everything (I easily could’ve included it on this list but I feel like it’s just a given that anyone who grew up in the noughties loves that film) but Easy A deserves just as much credit. It has Penn Badgley, one of the few celebrity males I care about! Amanda Bynes! Aly Michalka! Lisa Kudrow! Did I mention Emma Stone?

5. Kill Bill (2003)

“Now, if any of you sons of bitches got anything else to say, now's the fucking time!”

If I had to put any of these films as my singular favourite, it would probably be the first Kill Bill. Controversial, I know; even my dad introduced it to me as the weaker of the two. To list any Quentin Tarantino movie as the one that inspired you to want to be a director is probably a very cliche film student thing to say BUT I’m not a film student and I’ve put my directing pipe dream permanently to one side, thus, coming from me it’s not as hackneyed a statement. Or so I tell myself, lol. Basically, I was in awe of Kill Bill from start to finish. The colourisation is a dream, from the crazy 88 scene to the final fight between The Bridge and O Ren Ishii, and I particularly remember loving the animation sequence despite that not really being my kinda thing. I was just so impressed with how seamlessly something so out of place, considering the live action format of the rest of the film, fit in with everything else; even the scenes that should be absurd instead work with the comic book style narrative. Uma Thurman is of course amazing and iconic af but Lucy Liu as O Ren Ishii is my favourite thing about this film and the line I chose gave me all the bad bitch energy I need to, I think, get me through the rest of my time on this planet. If not, the tattooed version of this still I have on my arm should hopefully do the job. Yep, I truly ascended to a divine level of basic film hoe with that life choice.

6. Marie Antoinette (2006)

“This, Madame, is Versailles.”

The first Sofia Coppola film on this list, I love this woman’s work to death. Regardless of the content she’s working with, the end result always gives me the feeling I’m watching an extended music video. They always have this almost dreamlike quality to them and everything from the colour palette to the camera movements to the soundtrack in Marie Antoinette is tied together perfectly.

7. Mother! (2017)

“You never loved me. You just loved how much I loved you.”

I was tense throughout the entirety of Mother. As a socially anxious, obsessively tidy control freak, this whole film was like something from one of my nightmares; think unwanted house party on crack. I was mentally screaming along with Jennifer Lawrence for all of those people to get out, whilst simultaneously just staring at her face because she is so fucking gorgeous! Even when she’s completely lost it! Totally unrealistic but it makes for some really pretty shots! And then there’s the ending which left me kind of like “what the fuck did I just watch?” Which is what Darren Aronofsky films do best. They’re terrifying but also quite beautiful and Mother is no exception.

8. Gerald’s Game (2017)

“Everybody's got a little corner in there somewhere. A button they won't admit they want pressed.”

I finally got round to watching this for the first time the other day and I absolutely loved it. It probably helps that the last Stephen King adaptation I saw was Pet Sematary, so despite the praise this got at the time, my expectations weren’t super high, but I think this really is a perfect horror film. It’s clever, doesn’t rely on jump scares, and the creepy scenes that are in there really get under your skin. It drags a little in the middle though it’s beautifully shot, acted and has one of the few “body horror” scenes in a horror that’s actually made me cringe.

9. A Beautiful Mind (2001)

“I think that's what it's like with all our dreams and our nightmares, Martin, we've got to keep feeding them for them to stay alive.”

I don’t want to say too much about this film and spoil the plot, so I’ll just say that it’s incredible. Devastatingly sad but also wonderfully hopeful at the same time, and solidified my interest in psychology! I could watch Jennifer Connelly all day.

10. Alien (1979)

“This is Ripley, last survivor of the Nostromo, signing off.”

As a horror fan, I don’t think I need to explain why this film’s on the list. It’s been raved about and video essayed and called a pioneer of the genre ad nauseam. Again, not that this is really anything new but part of what I love about this movie is the context of its release and success; before Sigourney Weaver’s portrayal of Ellen Ripley, it was a rare occurrence to have a female protagonist in an action-based movie. Alien really paved the way for women to take up space in a previously male-dominated genre.

11. 10 Cloverfield Lane (2016)

“Crazy is building your ark after the flood has already come.”

I saw this for the first time at the cinema and pretty much went in blind. I hadn’t seen Cloverfield but I love Mary Elizabeth Winstead (Final Destination 3 was always my favourite of the franchise, lol) and there wasn’t really anything else on worth seeing, so my sister and I chose this and it was an experience. Like, of all the films on this list, this is probably the one that had me most on edge and I’m not sure watching it on your laptop on Putlocker will do it justice. You need the curtains pulled to, the volume way up and complete silence.

12. American Psycho (2000)

“Try getting a reservation at Dorsia now, you fucking stupid bastard!”

There isn’t a dull moment in American Psycho. Every line is quotable and every scene is straight to the point. I feel like this film is a masterclass in that Stanley Kubrick quote about editing where he says he liked to get rid of everything that was not absolutely vital to advancing the plot or the audience’s understanding of the character in any way. Plus, the ending is trippy af! Or maybe I’m just a bit oblivious to something that was quite obvious throughout, who knows. Either way, what the final scenes really mean are fun to think about.

13. The Descent (2005)

“I'm an English teacher, not fucking Tomb Raider.”

Okay, so I literally just watched this the other day and had to begrudgingly remove Silent Hill to make space for it (I KNOW it was critically panned and I KNOW the video game is better but I liked the visuals, OKAY!?) because The Descent is truly one of the best horror films I’ve ever seen. Before we even get to the supernatural element of the creatures, which are genuinely creepy for once, there’s a party bag of other phobia-inducing sequences that had me emotionally exhausted within the first half hour alone. Claustrophobia, darkness, heights, actual cringeworthy body horror, The Descent has something for everyone. The way it utilises space (or lack of for that matter) and darkness and panicked camera pans makes you feel as if you are really down in the cave with the characters. To add to that, I was actually rooting for all of them too; it probably helped that they were English rather than the typical American slasher cast but I found them to be a believable and likeable group of women. I truly did want them all to get out alive *spoilers*, which only made the ending all the more devastating and although the general narrative is quite predictable, the way in which things get wrapped up left just the right amount of shocks and questions to leave you reeling.

14. Eighth Grade (2018)

“Gucci.”

No film has ever captured what it’s like having social anxiety during “high school” (it’s called secondary school here in England, I know, but you get me) better than Eighth Grade. A tribute to the feeling of never quite fitting in and wishing you knew how to do what everyone else seems to be able to do naturally, it encapsulates that awkwardness with an accuracy that is really impressive considering that 1. it’s Bo Burnham’s first film, and 2. he’s not...like...a 13 year old girl. It is just as funny as it is sad and Elsie Fisher is great and so, so believable. Girl should’ve won some kind of Oscar.

15. American Beauty (1999)

“I don't think that there's anything worse than being ordinary.”

I wavered on whether or not to include this film on the list due to the Kevin Spacey controversy and decided that I had to with the disclaimer that I watched it quite some time before the stories about him came out and won’t ever watch any of the new things he inevitably ends up doing (because Hollywood has a notoriously short memory when it comes to the actions of disgraced male actors, lol). You can’t deny the amount of talent and skill that went into making a film so graceful and elegant and yet in equal parts unnerving, and I don’t think we should refuse to acknowledge the achievements of everyone else on that set because of Spacey’s behaviour.

16. Bandersnatch (2018)

“The past is immutable, Stefan. No matter how painful it is, we can't change things. We can't choose differently with hindsight. We all have to learn to accept that.”

As I was watching/playing through Bandersnatch, I didn’t necessarily love it. I think I’m echoing a common sentiment when I say that I was kinda confused. I was desperately trying to *spoiler* avoid the option of the protagonist murdering their dad (he seemed like a nice guy!?) but somehow always ended up there by their logic. So I watched most of the endings and then I went on and busied myself for the rest of the evening. AND I COULDN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. One minute I was completely deluding myself into believing the whole parallel universes thing was true and that I should test it out (don’t ask), and then the next I was thinking how disturbing it was that we’d been basically been inside the head of a person experiencing a mental breakdown severe enough for them murdering their dad, who had only ever wanted to help when you think about it objectively, to seem rational. The confusion started making sense within the context of the experience of the protagonist and our role as the audience and though I hadn’t realised it at the time, I’d been completely absorbed in the episode. Maybe the confusion wasn’t intentional, maybe I’m giving Charlie Brooker too much credit based on the recent couple of series of Black Mirror BUT I can’t deny that Bandersnatch left a huge mark on me, and after all, this is the man who wrote White Christmas.

17. Get Out (2017)

“White girls. They get you every time.”

Going into this film, I was cocky. I’ve gotten pretty good at predicting what’s going to happen in things, probably just because I watch too much TV, but from the trailer I was sure I knew exactly what was going to happen. And then, I was completely blown away. The ending was SO SMART, in terms of both the within universe storytelling and also the metaphorical narrative/commentary on the way our society treats black men and women. Like those early episodes of Black Mirror, it had me like “how the fuck did Jordan Peele think of that!?”. I can only dream of being as creative in my writing one day. Even little plot points like where the “police” car turns up at the end and your stomach sinks and you realise the intention of that is most likely to help you empathise with what the average African-American person feels in their day to day life when police make themselves present, what with institutional police brutality and racial profiling; it’s clear so much thought went into this script.

18. Ghost Stories (2017)

“It's funny, isn't it? How it's always the last key that unlocks everything.”

I don’t have all too much to say about this one apart from that I love a well-constructed English horror. I feel like it’s something we don’t do all too often and to be honest, I’m struggling to think of many English horror films in the first place. Ghost Stories is a great example of why we need more; it’s smart and spooky and folky without hitting you over the head with all those elements and Andy Nyman is a perfect lead. Love a bit of Martin Freeman too.

19. Girl, Interrupted (1999)

“Crazy isn't being broken, or swallowing a dark secret. It's you, or me, amplified.”

Maybe this is the 13 year old black and white Tumblr girl in me jumping out but I still adore this film. I know it’s not necessarily the most critically well received but Winona Ryder, Angelina Jolie and Brittany Murphy are 3 of my favourite actresses and I do love the script. I also like the way that Borderline Personality Disorder was characterised in Winona’s character Susanna (I’m wavering on whether to call her a character as if I recall correctly the book was based on the author’s real experience) in that it was quite subtle and that she wasn’t portrayed as manipulative, or aggressive or basically, as the villain, which I feel is usually the go-to. It focussed more on the mood aspects and the way that people with BPD tend to latch onto and idealise others, as Susanna does with Lisa, and these are both things that I have personally struggled with in the past.

20. Hereditary (2018)

“All I do is worry and slave and defend you, and all I get back is that fucking face on your face!”

It was hard to find a quote that encapsulated what makes Hereditary so great because so much of it is about what isn’t said, if that makes sense. It’s a lot of pained silences and resentful looks and horrified screams, and doesn’t that sound like a fun time? Honestly, it’s not necessarily, lmao. Shocker. It has you feeling like something awful is about to happen the whole time, deep in the pit of your stomach, but I like that in a film, when it does make you properly feel. Ari Aster gets slow-burning dread just right in his exploration of dysfunctional families and grudges, with a few heart-sinking shocks thrown in for good measure all without overdoing the jump scares. There are a lot of deeply unnerving “supernatural” moments but there are just as many horrifically realistic familial conflict scenes that give you that whole “something is wrong” gut instinct in equal measures. It’s been a year and I’m still so angry that Toni Collette didn’t get an Oscar nomination for her performance, because it was really the perfect opportunity to break down the invisible wall between horror and critical recognition. On a more positive note, I loved Midsommar too (not as much as Hereditary but it was still a trip) and I cannot wait to see what Ari Aster does next. Once again, I’ll be in the cinema on opening night.

21. Heathers (1988)

“Dear Diary, my teen-angst bullshit now has a body count.”

Heathers is iconic in every way: the outfits, the cast, the lines. I mean, the acting can be a bit iffy at times but I honestly think that without Heathers, Jennifer’s Body might never have existed and that’s a world I wouldn’t want to live in. There was so much choice when I was picking a line to summarise why I like it so much and of course, “fuck me gently with a chain saw, do I look like Mother Theresa?” deserves an honourable mention. You almost made it bby. The TV remake? We don’t speak of it.

22. Hot Fuzz (2007)

“The way we see it, it’s all for the greater good.”

It might not be the “artiest” movie ever but I’ve seen Hot Fuzz so many times and it never gets old. Though I used to love it when I was younger purely for the PG-13 gore, now I appreciate it for the absurdity and the ridiculousness and to be honest, the total believability of the plot when it comes to towns ruled by low-key hostile, doddery old white people. I should know, I live in one.

23. Inglourious Basterds (2009)

“You probably heard we ain't in the prisoner-takin' business. We in the killin' Nazi business. And cousin, business is a-boomin’.”

I wish I wasn’t a hoe for Quentin Tarantino films (I’ve felt personally attacked by many a poundlandbandit starter pack) but I am. The breakneck pacing, the tongue in cheek dialogue and the gore all make this one of my ultimate favourites. Also, I have a huge crush on Melanie Laurent. Yes, it’s the French accent. No, I don’t know the mechanics of how that works. I hear someone speak French and I want to marry them! I can’t help it!

24. Ingrid Goes West (2017)

“Are you actually insane?”

This seems like a random choice to have on the list seeing as it was never really that hyped up, nor did it receive masses of critical acclaim. It did get positive reviews but that was about it. However, as soon as I saw the trailer, I knew I had to see it. Months, and an £8 purchase from HMV later, I finally got to watch Ingrid Goes West and I loved every moment of it. Whilst Aubrey Plaza’s character, I feel, is an exploration of a lot of young women’s insecurities and self-doubts and fears, blown up to monstrous proportions (or maybe just mine, lol), and a 90 minute film about that doesn’t sound all that revolutionary, this one is as intense as it is stylish and darkly comedic and that’s what puts it on the map for me.

25. Insidious (2011)

“I like to call them travellers.”

So this film scared the ever-living SHIT out of me when I was younger and though I now consider horror my favourite genre and watch it on the regular with absolutely no qualms, 13 year old me was (not to use the world lightly) mildly traumatised. I genuinely couldn’t be home alone by myself or sleep at night without thinking the old woman ghost from the beginning was outside my room for a good 6 months or so. Like it literally exacerbated an already present sleep disorder to the point where my understandably frustrated-at-being-woken-up-nightly-by-her-panicking-daughter mother got me referred for CBT (to reflect on a time when I didn’t know what CBT or CAMHS was is…blissful, lol). And maybe because of that, in my mind, I still conceptualise it as one of the very few horror movies that has actually scared me, hence its place on the list. That scene where we first see that Star Wars looking red faced devil? I’d probably still nope out even now.

26. It Follows (2014)

“It could look like someone you know or it could be a stranger in a crowd. Whatever helps it get close to you.”

There’s not too much to say about It Follows, other than that it’s a good horror film and more importantly just a really good film. I feel it’s a crucial, early part of this warmly welcomed horror renaissance we are now fully in the thick of where writers are focussing less on making people gasp and more on actual good quality cinema. It’s a simple concept that leaves enough room for you to ask your own questions whilst still feeling somewhat complete, and not annoyingly open-ended. The shots are good, the characters are normal enough to be believable, and the colour palette is Fincher-esque; the muted tones perfectly complement the feelings of dread that run throughout. Whilst you don’t need to be concerned with what the whole thing is a metaphor of in order to enjoy the film, the possibility of there being that second reading of the narrative, for me, elevate it to a higher level. In other words, it’s got *Shrek voice* layers.

27. Juno (2007)

“I'm just gonna go ahead and nip this thing in the bud. Cuz you know, they say pregnancy often leads to…you know...an infant.”

I love Ellen Page. I love Michael Cera. Together they are the best thing ever. See, I’m not really much of a rom-com girl but I see this as less of a rom-com and more of a coming of age film with romantic snippets and great one liners. It’s sweet and whimsical and funny but also really fucking real in parts, and it’s definitely what I would consider a modern classic. If you haven’t watched it already, do!

28. Suspiria (2018)

“Love and manipulation, they share houses very often. They are frequent bedfellows.”

Witches! Ballet dancing! Decapitation! Tilda Swinton! What’s not to love? As soon as I saw the trailer for Suspiria, I knew I had to see it. Creepy but also beautifully shot and scored, it was worth the 8 month wait from the Venice Film Festival and eventual caving and watching on 123Movies after I couldn’t find the DVD on Amazon; I finally got to tick it off my watch list only to like it so much I had to add the original Suspiria back on.

29. Mulholland Drive (2001)

“I hope that I never see that face, ever, outside of a dream.”

Another film which had me like WTF by the end, I really recommend Mulholland Drive for anyone who wants to be vaguely creeped out and extremely confused at the same time. See, I really love a film where you spend the next few hours after watching researching all the different interpretations and reading interviews with the director. That sounds sarcastic, but honestly, I love it. It’s a moody, film-noir style mindfuck of a movie and even after doing my research I’m still quite baffled. That’s the best part.

30. Requiem for a Dream (2000)

“Purple in the morning, blue in the afternoon, orange in the evening.”

It took me a while to get on board with seeing Marlon Wayans in a serious role (I’ve seen White Chicks far too many times, clearly), but once I did, I was into it. To be totally honest, I don’t think there’s a single happy moment in this film; it comes up quite frequently as one of the most disturbing of all time, which I’m sure Aronofsky probably thinks of as another notch on his belt. Whilst imo, that’s quite a grandiose claim, Requiem for a Dream definitely stuck in my mind after I watched it. Even if you’ve never watched the film, the ending sequence is notorious for how fucked up it is and I do think it’s earned the infamy. What stuck out more to me, though, was how purposeful every shot and sequence felt in terms of trying to let you into the character’s states of mind, the short lived bursts of euphoria and the panicked downwards spirals. I think it will always be one of the most compelling films about addiction for highlighting how terrifyingly out of one’s control it can be.

31. Room (2015)

“No one is strong alone.”

This film made me cry buckets. Brie Larson and Jacob Tremblay are wonderful, and everyone involved deserved all the Oscar hype. Every line was so heartfelt and emotive, and I loved Tremblay’s voiceovers. To translate the stream of consciousness of a kid from page to screen in a way that it remains believable in spite of its wisdom (not like those tweets where people try to make out their kid just casually made some off the cuff scathing political jibe at the dinner table) is quite the feat and similarly, I’m in awe of how the director managed to communicate the pain and confusion of the characters on a level that transcended the physical confines of said room. The escape scene had my heart in my mouth. All this being said, I should really read the book because it’s supposed to be even better.

32. Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World (2010)

‘When I'm around you, I kind of feel like I'm on drugs. Not that I do drugs. Unless you do drugs, in which case I do them all the time. All of them.”

Michael Cera and Mary Elizabeth Winstead are two of my favourite actors and so it’s a given that Scott Pilgrim is one of my favourite films. It’s such a fun, easy watch and the video-game inspired directorial style makes it, in terms of cinematography, probably the most memorable Edgar Wright film on this list imo. The concept, based on the graphic novel, is quite a simple one but that doesn’t stop it being entertaining from start to finish. The rest of the cast is great too: Brie Larson, Anna Kendrick, Mae Whitman, Aubrey Plaza and Alison Pill (Ivy from American Horror Story, anyone?) All make appearances, plus Chris Evans. He’s Captain America or something, right?

33. Scream (1996)

“No, please don't kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel!”

The Scream movies were my absolute favourite when I was just getting into “horror” as a 13/14 year old because they were always pretty tame in terms of scares but nonetheless, always a trip. Though, controversially, I’d probably say I enjoyed Scream 4 just as much as the first one (I am a bit of an Emma Roberts stan), I chose the first one purely for how iconic it was and how ahead of its time. It mixed satire and horror in a way that hadn’t really been done in such a mainstream way before and made it possible for films like Cabin in the Woods and The Final Girls to do so well.

34. Shaun of the Dead (2004)

“Take car. Go to Mum's. Kill Phil, sorry, grab Liz, go to the Winchester, have a nice cold pint, and wait for all of this to blow over.”

I’ve seen Shaun of the Dead way, way, way too many times and I’ll still probably watch it again the next time ITV decide to show it too. It makes me laugh, it’s got lots of good gore and it’s easy to follow. The perfect film to put on whilst eating a take away, as long as you’re not too squeamish, lol.

35. Silence of the Lambs (1991)

“Well, Clarice. Have the lambs stopped screaming?”

Jodie Foster’s portrayal of Clarice Starling makes her one of my favourite movie heroines of all time; quietly courageous, she was the type of female lead that really hadn’t cropped up all that much in the films that came before Silence of the Lambs. And despite its problematic handling of certain issues, it’s a fucking incredible film. The thing about Hannibal Lecter is that they don’t have to tell you that he’s always one step ahead, you see it for yourself (the elevator scene!) and so it kinda feels like he’s looking into YOUR soul too. The confrontation at the end between Clarice and Buffalo Bill is one of the most nerve-racking 15 minutes or so of film I’ve ever watched, and if I ever get asked to justify why I’m scared of the dark again, I’m going to point straight to this scene. Yes, I’m a baby but my fears are VALID!

36. Silver Linings Playbook (2012)

“I do this! Time after time after time! I do all this shit for other people! And then I wake up and I'm empty! I have nothing!”

As you can probably tell from my inclusion of Mother! on this list, I love Jennifer Lawrence, and this is probably my favourite drama film of hers. The way that she and Bradley Cooper portray two people struggling with mental illness is refreshingly honest in that it shows it can make you quite an unlikeable person at times, albeit someone who is just trying their best to survive. That being said, in spite of the subject matter it’s still a relatively light and easy-to-watch film. The diner scene in particular is a masterclass in realistic conflict and reaction, and I hate to be “ooo, edgy” but several of the lines did strike a really deep chord.

37. The Babadook (2014)

“Sometimes I just want to smash your head against the brick wall until your fucking brains pop out.”

The best thing that the Babadook does, much like It Follows, is instils a sense of deep seated dread in you before you even see the supernatural forces at work. The washed out colour palette, apparent emotional disconnect of Jennifer Kent’s (who also directs!) character, and the disorienting movements of the camera all help to create a lingering unease that is just as effective as the grossly uncanny appearance of the monster/ghost/creature/whatever-you-want-to-call-it himself. It’s obvious that Kent had a very clear vision of the story she wanted to tell and even more so that she is a very talented woman; I hope to see even more female directed horror films in the future if the Babadook is anything to go by. The way this film blurred the lines between the inner struggles of a grieving family and the outside supposedly paranormal influence was unsettling as fuck and to get into the psychology of a mother left on her own to raise a small child and how terrifying that might feel is something only a immensely intuitive and empathetic woman could do. Props to her.

38. The Craft (1996)

“We are the weirdos, mister.”

Not to sound all halloween-is-the-only-day-of-the-year-I-care-about VSCO girl (although that might actually be quite an accurate description of me to be honest), but if there’s one thing that sticks in my mind about the craft, it’s the aesthetic. It’s kind of what I aim to emulate in every aspect of my life, NBD. Seriously, when I was trying to pick a still, I was spoilt for choice. The rituals, the outfits, the witchy interiors; there’s this one GIF of Nancy, Rochelle, Bonnie (and maybe Sarah?) lighting all these gorgeous candles and if I could walk around with it permanently looping on my forehead, I would. And ignoring my shallow reasons for liking The Craft, it’s just a really good film. Nancy Downs is probably one of the most interesting female villains of all time and I’m obsessed with anything that explores magic and the occult. It’s equal parts dark and girly, not to use that in a derivative way at all, in that not only does it teeter on the line of being scary, it’s also a gritty exploration of female friendship, power and jealousy. If you are a halloween-is-the-only-day-of-the-year-I-care-about VSCO girl, definitely watch it; more power to you.

39. The Favourite (2018)

“All I know is, your carriage awaits and my maid is on her way up with something called a pineapple.”

I’d seen The Favourite twice within, like, a month of it being released in British cinemas and I do not have a single regret about that; well, maybe a minor regret in paying over £12 to see it in the Leicester Square Odeon with the assumption that the extra price meant fancy seats (it didn’t), but on the whole, I’m pretty happy with my life choices. Emma Stone, Olivia Colman, and the period Mean Girls comparison drew me in but I came back the second time for the costumes, the dialogue, the editing and Sarah Churchill, Duchess of Marlborough. Or Rachel Weiss, in other words. See, The Favourite is superbly casted in that Yorgos Lanthimos must have known we can’t help but see Emma Stone as the “good girl”/protagonist and so it took me a whole second viewing to see her character for what she really was, and realise The Favourite is in some ways less a story of Abigail Masham’s rise to power and more the tragic disintegration of Sarah and Anne’s relationship. I’m sure you can view the film both ways but to view it as the latter brings a whole new dimension to it and the ending, imo. I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t go into the film expecting some vaguely historical lesbianism and that definitely made for a slightly awkward birthday viewing with my family BUT I wasn’t at all disappointed.

40. The Killing of a Sacred Deer (2017)

“If you dig a hole in the yard, better make it a big one.”

This film is slow-moving, weird and the acting can be stiff at the best of times, and yet somehow all these things add to the (take a shot every time I say-) dread that builds throughout. You don’t know exactly how things are going to end, but you do know it’s not well. Like in his latest directorial entry of The Favourite, Yorgos Lanthimos excels in the realm of the strange and vaguely fantastical through his script, score and cinematography, and so even though the settings are quite mundane, The Killing of a Sacred Deer kind of feels like some macabre modern fairytale, the moral of which I can’t quite work out. I can’t imagine anyone playing Martin more unnervingly than Barry Keoghan and I’m never going to complain about Nicole Kidman, but it’s the imagery of the tears of blood, Steven’s children dragging themselves along the floor and the ending scene that stuck with me long after the film had finished. If you’ve got the patience and you enjoyed the style of The Favourite, there’ll definitely be something positive for you to take away from The Killing of a Sacred Deer.

41. The Orphanage (2007)

“Seeing is not believing. It's the other way around. Believe, and you will see.”

When I was first told by my year 11 Spanish teacher that we were going to be watching The Orphanage in class, I definitely didn’t foresee myself including it in a top 50 films list 5 years later and yet here we are. I mean, I shouldn’t have been surprised really as she did tell us it was good and I had frequently seen it included in lists of the best horror films but as with pretty much anything our teachers would put on as an excuse not to teach for a few lessons (I’m really NOT complaining here, they deserve the break and I would definitely do the same, lol), my expectations were definitely low. Side note, I also since found out that Bilbao seems like a pretty cool place and there was a reason she kept banging on about that too, and so moral of the story, teachers do sometimes have some decent recommendations BUT my assumption was that The Orphanage must be pretty tame for her to show it to us. Parents-even of 16 of year olds-love to complain, lol. And to be fair, it isn’t so much in your face scary so much as it is kind of tragic with an undertone of spooky but I really enjoyed it. I want to say that part of what I enjoyed about it so much was the mystery element but honestly I think a lot of that comes from the fact that it’s in Spanish so I had to work to follow what was actually going on.

42. The Ring (2002)

“I can't imagine being stuck down a well all alone like that. How long could you survive?”

The Ring does visuals better than any other horror. The contorted faces of Samara’s victims, the infamous tape and the shots of the well all have a staple in pop culture for a reason. Whilst I don’t find Samara herself particularly frightening, the lore and mythology surrounding her feels so authentically creepy; the tape in particular reminds me of the kind of weird YouTube video you might stumble across when you’re supposed to be trying to get to bed late at night and instantly hate yourself for watching. Naomi Watts is a compelling lead and though I was probably rooting for Sarah Michelle Gellar in the American remake of the Grudge more (I still low-key associate her with the live-action Scooby-Doo and I have no shame), to compare other noughties horror classics, on the whole The Ring is definitely the better quality movie.

43. The Shawshank Redemption (1994)

“I guess it comes down to a simple choice, really. Get busy living, or get busy dying.”

The Shawshank Redemption is just an unequivocally good film. On paper, it doesn’t necessarily have any of the things that draw me to a movie in it, but it’s brilliantly acted, written and shot. It’s frequently cited as one of the greatest movies of all time and I think that’s a very fair statement.

44. The Shining (1980)

“Wendy? Darling? Light of my life. I'm not gonna hurt ya. You didn't let me finish my sentence. I said, I'm not gonna hurt ya. I'm just going to bash your brains in!”

I love The Shining. In terms of scares, not all that much happens in it, but what we do see (the corpse in the bath tub is fucking horrifying) undoubtedly leaves an impact. The score is so unnervingly perfect that I can still hear the sound that’s made when we see those 2…puppets? Costumed people? Basically some kind of weird furry activity-which believe me, makes sense if you’ve seen it-going on. And I only need to see a still of the Overlook Hotel and I can immediately feel the sense of claustrophobia and growing tension that Stanley Kubrick so effectively communicated. A lot of people shat on Shelley Duvall’s acting at the time and whilst she obviously didn’t match Jack Nicholson’s energy, she did come across as a woman genuinely traumatised which is sad when you do consider the effect that shooting the film had on her. With that aside, The Shining is a massively pivotal part of horror history and I’m very excited to see Doctor Sleep this year!

45. The Virgin Suicides (1999)

“Obviously, Doctor, you've never been a 13-year-old girl.”

It really is a toss up between Marie Antoinette and The Virgin Suicides when it comes to Sofia Coppola’s best film, and so of course I had to include them both. See, whereas Marie Antoinette could be the visual incarnation of an album like Marina and the Diamonds’ Electra Heart or Charli XCX’s Sucker (if you ignore the less than fortunate ending, lmao), The Virgin Suicides plays out more to the tunes of something less bubblegum pop and more breezy and mellow, maybe LDR’s Ultraviolence or Honeymoon. You could say in a way that this film romanticises suicide and you’d definitely have a point, but I think considering the fact that it’s based on a book and was made in a time when we were less aware of the damage popular media can do (I think there’s a similar point to be made about the way the villain of Silence of the Lambs’s gender is portrayed and linked to his motivation), I give it a pass. It does also kind of make sense for the film to take this approach; the Lisbon girls are viewed through the eyes of a group of boys who are infatuated with them but also ultimately know nothing about them. In a way, it’s almost a critique of the way these boys think and a commentary on just how stifling and confusing young womanhood can be. I think it’s a beautiful film and a perfect adaptation of Jeffrey Eugenides’ novel.

46. The VVitch (2015)

“Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?”

Is it sad that I have this quote tattooed on my back? Is it biased for me to say no? Because for me, just as much as the Virgin Suicides is about how stifling society’s expectations of young women and how they are supposed to think and act, The VVitch is about the demonisation of girls who go against this and how liberation and sexual freedom for so long were perceived as the result of some kind of satanic and deeply disturbing force at work rather than individual expressions of freedom and femininity. The ending is HAPPY, okay, and if you take away the misty, barren landscapes and the isolation and the paranoia and the baby eating witches and the accusations and the demonic goats, it’s kinda a dark feminist fairy tale to go against puritan panic. I mean, let’s be honest, *spoilers* Thomasin’s siblings were annoying AF. Not that I’m condoning child murder on any level, but you know. In a narrative context was it really so much of a loss when those little shits got the chop?

47. Thoroughbreds (2017)

“At the end of the day, I have a perfectly healthy brain. It just doesn't contain feelings. And that doesn't necessarily make me a bad person. It just means I have to work a little harder than everybody else to be good.”

I love Olivia Cooke. I love Anya Taylor-Joy. I love concise, cutting dialogue, the idea of middle class American social politics, and a little bit of (fictional, of course) murder thrown in there for good measure. Thus, I really love Thoroughbreds. If you watched it with the sound off, it’d be a Polo Ralph Lauren promotional film that gets really dark at the end, and what’s not to like about that?

48. We Need to Talk About Kevin (2011)

“What are these people watching, people like me?”

I still haven’t got round to reading the book this film was based on and I feel like that’s something I need to get on top of ASAP, because it’s been sitting on my shelf for a long ass time. However, based on the little I know about how faithful a film adaptation it is, I think Ezra Miller and Tilda Swinton were a wonderful pairing, and this is a film that’s all about the characters, so it’s a good job they were so well cast. Miller does a great job at getting right under your skin and answering a lot of my questions about what leads someone to commit the kind of horrific crime that his character, Kevin, does. Arrogance, done subtly, is hard to pull off but he nails it, and Swinton is very, very believable as a haunted, grief-stricken mother wrestling with the natural question of the part she played in her son’s actions and the scrutiny that comes with it. Not only that but from the offset, every part of the cinematography helps to convey the feeling of impending doom that builds right up until the climax. The colour palette in particular, which for the most part doesn’t stray too far from the mundane greys and bleak washed-out tones perhaps reflective of Eva’s state of mind, does a great job of foreshadowing what to come when it quite purposefully does take a diversion. It’s all about the red, apparently. Take note.

49. Whiplash (2014)

“Any fucking moron can wave his arms and keep people in tempo. I was there to push people beyond what's expected of them. I believe that is an absolute necessity.”

You honestly wouldn’t believe that a film about drumming could feel like a horror and yet here Whiplash is, leaving me on the edge of my seat and wincing for, like, 2 hours straight. Tonally it couldn’t be more different from the other Damien Chazelle film on this list (La La Land), and yet it flows just as seamlessly and has his same impeccable rhythm; every word, yell and snarl slots perfectly into place and every swivel of the camera is flawlessly executed. If you’re looking for an intense and fast-paced drama, I can’t recommend Whiplash enough.

50. Zombieland (2009)

“Twelve's the new twenty. Gun please.”

Zombieland has only one fault: that Jesse Eisenberg’s character wasn’t played by Michael Cera. But it has Emma Stone and Woody Harrelson so I’ll let it slide. Not much to say about this one other than it’s a wild ride from start to finish, but simultaneously easy to watch and probably the most lighthearted zombie film out there. Almost like The Hangover or something along those lines, but with the addition of the undead. It’s a hard film not to enjoy and I’m just really hoping they don’t fuck up the sequel.

DISCLAIMER: 90% of these stills are from Filmgrab, it’s an amazing website!

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 6 years ago

Text

Watford Cove

Chapter 5: not so typical love song

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word count: 5365

Chapter: 5/13 [All chapters]

Summary: Baz goes to Simon's house to work on the project.

Read on AO3

AN: So as some of you may know/remember, I work at an amusement park. I was supposed to work today but it's literally raining all day so the park is most certainly closed. Which means I can post early! Hooray! This is personally one of my favourite chapters. I enjoyed writing it quite a bit, though I had trouble writing Baz's emotions. The boy is a weird self destructive mess and it's difficult getting that across lol. Finally, we learn a bit more about Simon. Plus some fluff, of course. Hope you all like it!

Tagging: @wayward-son-61 @lunar-lover394

———————————————-

“Where are you going?”

I lazily turn towards Mordelia. She’s standing next to me with her arms behind her back, rocking on her heels. The picture of an adorable, unassuming child. You can hardly tell she's a brat.

“Out,” I reply.

“Mum says you go out too much.”

I do feel a bit bad about that. Daphne does legitimately care about my well being. “Well, you can tell her I’m not going out drinking. She can stop worrying.”

“Drinking what?”

I sigh. Right, she is still seven years old. “Nevermind. I’m just going to do schoolwork at someone’s house. I might be home for supper or not, I don’t know.”

“Okay. When can I ride on your motorbike?”

I smirk and buckle up my helmet. “Let's wait until you can reach the pedals. Then we’ll talk.”

Mordelia pouts pathetically. I ruffle her hair, which only makes her pout become an impressive scowl. I flip down my visor with flare and rev my engine. I give Mordelia a salute before driving off down the country road.

Simon’s house isn’t that far from mine, actually. Maybe a twenty minute ride, the way I break the speeding laws. I zip down the hill at ludicrous speeds, and keep that pace up across the country roads until they become moderately paved. Soon I’m on the sparse outskirts of Watford Cove, not the bloody fucking wilderness like mine. A much nicer place to live in my opinion.

Only a few minutes in, I arrive at the address Simon texted me. The house is actually quite posh. It’s not the terrible extravagance of the Pitch mansion of course, but it’s nice. Red brick, white shutters, some fancy curtains. There's a silver mailbox at the end of the drive with "Salisbury" painted on it in annoyingly bright green letters. The handwriting looks childish, as in a child probably wrote it. The initials "LS" are under the words like an artist's signature. Hm, interesting.

I park my bike in the driveway then make my way to the oak door. The doorbell chimes deep and loud. There’s some steps and soon it swings open. Oh. This is...not Simon. Because Simon is not an older greying-blonde woman.

This woman reminds me of portraits my own grandmother. She was also tall, straight backed, and respectful looking. But my grandmother never showed an ounce of happiness. This woman has a very kind smile on her face though, her wrinkles more from the expression rather than age.

“Hello,” she says kindly. “May I help you?”

“Um, I’m here to see Simon.”

Both her blue eyes and smile widen. “Oh right, Simon said you were coming. Simon! Your friend is here!”

There’s a crashing sound, like someone falling on the ground. Rapid steps come down the stairs until a beaming Simon jumps to the bottom.

“Hi Baz,” he says breathlessly. “Glad you found it.”

“I have Google Maps, Salisbury,” I deadpan, but with a smirk.

“Oh yeah, right, let’s go.” He motions for me to follow him inside. I nod to the woman. She looks up towards the stairs, hands on her hips.

“Simon,” she says with mock accusation, “are you not going to introduce me to your friend?”

Simon freezes halfway up the steps and whips his head around. “Oh right! Sorry, Gran. Um, Gran, this is Baz. Baz, this is my grandmother, Ruth Salisbury.”

I reach out my hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Salisbury.”

Her brows rise up in surprise. I suppose she didn’t expect politeness from a guy wearing a black Ramones shirt, leather jacket, and ear piercings. But she still takes my hand. “Pleasure to meet you as well, Baz. You two have fun.”

Simon scoffs. “It’s school, Gran. We’re not supposed to have fun.”

“School can be fun if you try, darling. Maths has made me very good at cards.”

“And you fleece Mrs. Jones every week at your games, I know. We gotta go.”

“Yes yes, go do your schoolwork. Don’t break anything.”

Simon and Ms. Salisbury smile good naturedly at each other as we go upstairs. He runs at a breakneck pace, nearly tripping over the green carpet. I follow more slowly, looking over the walls. Unlike my house, there are many personalised things. Landscape art, funny knick knacks, and some pictures. There’s one of Ms. Salisbury with an older man, who I assume to be her husband. Next to that, there’s the couple again but in their younger years. A boy and girl stand in the foreground, both as blonde as Ms. Salisbury. The last one at the top of the stairs is obviously the two kids as teenagers, grinning with arms around each other. The woman looks weirdly familiar. Her freckles, they remind me of...stars.

“Baz, c’mon!” Simon yells.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming. You’re quite bossy today, darling,” I say teasingly. I hear his gasp, then fall into a coughing fit.

“I-I just want to start working.” His voice is still a bit hoarse.

“Alright.”

I saunter down to the hall Simon went down. I step into his room, and...well, I’m not sure what else I expected. The bed and desk look old, but everything else is new. The floral blanket, the multicoloured rug, the IKEA shelf filled with comics, all quite fresh. The walls are bright blue and covered in posters. Troye Sivan, Lana del Ray, Hayley Kiyoko, and assorted pastel coloured art. Equally pastel clothes are spread out across the floor. The whole room is so...bright. It sort of hurts my eyes. I’d prefer everything a bit darker. I guess I like Simon’s colour palette in small doses, just not all in one room.

I look up. Simon’s at his desk. I finally notice that he’s wearing a new shirt. It’s like the sunflower one, but pink and with bright red rosebuds instead. It works with the copper undertones of his hair. He looks perfect in it.

“Pretty,” I whisper.

“What?” Simon asks sweetly.

Fuck, I hope my face isn’t as red as his shirt right now. “Um, nothing.”

He looks confused for only a moment then shrugs. “Okay. I woke up late and forgot breakfast, so I'm starving. Want some of this? For brain food and stuff.” He holds up a mint aero bar. My smile is instantaneous.

“Sure. Mint aeros are my favourite.”

He grins to his ears. “Mine too!

I sit in the chair next to him. He breaks off a large piece for me. We eat the chocolate at the same time, but Simon gets some around his mouth. (Of course he's a messy eater.) I want to slowly lick it off his cheek then kiss him so hard we run out of breath. I quickly look away to resist temptation. “So, you got the project up?”

“Oh yeah!” He turns back to his laptop. I see that the desk is covered in scribbly note paper, candy wrappers, and nail polish bottles. He’s got almost every colour in his preferred pastel shade. He’s actually wearing the pink one right now. It matches his shirt. I have to keep myself from making an out loud comment again.

“So I’ve started making the powerpoint,” Simon says, bringing up the application. “And I think we should start with Watership Down. The actual place. Cause it’s like, the most important setting right?”

I bite my tongue, because I...disagree. Strongly. Watership Down should be in the middle, because it is the end of their first journey and the beginning of the next. It’s important to illustrate that, I think. But he doesn’t know I would think that.

“Sure, cool,” I mutter.

“O-Okay. Then, uh, for characters, we should start with General Woundwort.”

Wrong, very wrong. He’s important, sure, but others should be discussed first. Maybe Hazel, Bigwig, or Fiver. Fuck, Bluebell should come before Woundwort.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” I hope there isn’t a strain in my voice.

“Awesome! And I thought for analysis, we could talk about the archetypes and shit.”

No! Archetypes are Jungian! We’re supposed to do Freudian! Oh, fuck it.

“Give me that,” I hiss, snatching the laptop away. Simon blinks at me confused. I type furiously, barely thinking really, just spouting out the knowledge I have onto the slides. Some of the stuff is very smart but not well put, so I redo the wording. Not good with words, just like Simon said. I don’t know how long it takes, but when I’m done, I put the laptop back on the desk with my arms crossed.

“There,” I say curtly.

Simon looks through it, jaw falling open wider and wider with every slide. I shift away. Christ, this is embarrassing.

“Holy shit,” Simon whispers. I wait for him to start laughing, or yelling because I change his work. But he just turns to me with big awe filled eyes. “You’re...really smart.”

My cheeks must be as red as tomatoes now. I scoff and look at the Hayley Kiyoko poster. “Yeah, whatever.”

“No, no, I mean it, Baz. This is bloody brilliant! You’re super smart!” His brow furrows. “Why do you never show up to class? You could be getting As in like, everything.”

I press my lips together, digging my nails into my bicep. “I don’t care about school or grades. That’s all.”

“Really? You just, don’t care?”

“No, I don’t.”

Simon sighs, and I hate how close to pity it sounds. I don’t need his pity or anyone else’s. I made my choice a long time ago, and I don’t regret it. Well, I mostly don’t regret it. Certainly don’t regret because of where I’m going when term is done. Not at all...

“So, uh,” Simon says rapidly, obviously trying to break the forming tension, “I'm also mostly done the drawings. I’ll scan them later and put them in the presentation if you like them.”

He pulls out a sketchbook from his desk and flips through the pages. He shoves it in my face once he’s found the right one, making me jolt back in my chair. I snatch it from him.

“Christ, Salisbury, let me actually look,” I chuckle.

“Oh, sorry, sorry.”

I look at the picture, and it’s my turn to be awestruck. It’s...amazing. Rough, raw, a bit messy, but amazing. He’s captured Watership Down in just pencil. Sure, it’s just a hill, but Simon has drawn it from the perspective of the rabbits, so it looks looming and majestic. There are little shapes at the top, and I realise it’s a few of the rabbits looking out into the distance. A cute and perfect addition.

“Wow, this is incredible,” I say with absolute reverence.

Simon blinks at me. He seems genuinely surprised. “R-Really?”

“Yes. You’re very talented, Simon.”

“Oh, uh, well, thanks. I’m...really glad you think so.” He fiddles with his fingers nervously. “There’s a-a couple more if you want to see them. Three pages after.”

I flip through a few more pages. There are a lot of rough, abstract sketches. They look more like feelings than specific things. Waves of smoke, angry scribbles of pencil, over and over. He must do that a lot. Eventually, I land on what I think I'm supposed to see. It's obviously Fiver, based on the photo he showed me. But it's not an exact replica. It's a gorgeous interpretation. He's emphasized Fiver's large, sad, all knowing eyes. You can almost see everything terrifying and wonderful happening in them. To say I’m impressed doesn’t really cover it.

I go to the next page, and I immediately recognise it as a scene from the animated movie. When El Ahrairah, the first rabbit, was given physical gifts to survive predators from their fictitious god Frith. This one is in colour, and somehow even more stylised than the movie. El Ahrairah himself is a deep rich brown with grey loops, the sun is swirl of orange and yellow, and the sky is ripples of vibrant blue. The same colour as his eyes.

“These,” I say, “are perfect, Simon.”

Simon chuckles nervously, fiddling with his fingers. “I’m glad you think so. Think Miss Possibelf will approve?”

“If she doesn’t, she’s completely incompetent. And I don’t think that’s true.” I absentmindedly turn to the next page. It’s the start of another unfinished drawing. It’s of someone’s face. Someone with sharp cheekbones and dark wavy hair. Wait, is that-

Simon snatches the book and quickly flips it closed. He hides half his scarlet face behind the leather cover for a long moment, until he nervously coughs and lowers it. “Okay, good,” he stutters. “Glad you think so. I, uh, guess we’re done now. Man, we really could just do most of this over text.” Mother of God, must he keep doing that hair tuck? It’s torture.

“I suppose that's true," I chuckle.

"Wanna hang out?" He asks very quickly, gripping his sketchbook with ghost white knuckles.

I shouldn't. Fuck, I really shouldn't. I should go home, avoid him, keep my toxic self far away from Simon. But fucking hell, I'm weak for this boy, and just weak in general.

"Sure." My voice stays impressively neutral. "Any ideas?"

Simon twists his lips, looking around the brightly coloured room. His eyes drift down to my hands and he smiles mischievously. “I could redo your nails.”

I look down at my hands. Well, my nails are definitely chipped. I forgot to repaint them a few days ago. I look back at him with a raised brow. “I doubt you have a bottle of my ‘Chanel Le Vernis in Gris Obscur’, Salisbury.”

“Nah, definitely no Chanel. But I got some pretty good stuff from the drugstore.” He lifts up some obviously cheap but pretty nail varnish bottles. They’re all his pastels colours though.

“Not really my style.”

He shrugs. “Maybe you’d like to try something new?”

I bite the corner of my mouth. The colours hurt my eyes a bit. But he looks so adorable with that hopeful grin and glint in his eyes. I sigh, and put my left hand out. “Very well. I want your darkest shade though.”

Simon literally bounces with excitement. “Awesome! So, uh, how about...” He messes around with the bottles, almost dropping a few. Eventually he settles on a pale blue. “This one, and,” he holds up a unused looking dark grey, “this one? We can alternate.”

“Hm, sure. That grey doesn’t really match your style, though.”

He shrugs. “Eh, came with the set. Glad it did. It, uh, matches your eyes.” He looks pointedly at the desk instead of my face. That’s good though. I don’t want him to see the blush that’s spread across my cheeks. “Now gimme your right hand.”

I do as he says, placing it on the desk. He puts down some paper towel then pick up his nail polish remover and cotton balls. I have the exact same supplies at home. He reaches towards my hand, but quickly hesitates. He’s shaking actually. I can’t blame him. Every time we’ve touched, it’s been accidental or very quickly. This is different. This isn't a shoulder pat or playful shove. This is long and sustained and purposeful. And I may not be showing it, but I’m just as nervous.

“I can take it off myself,” I say quickly, reaching for the bottle. But Simon pulls it away.

“No no, I’m good. Just sit there and look...badass, alright?”

My lip twitches up. He’s so sweet. I leave my hand where it is. “Very well.”

Slowly, shakily, he slips his finger under mine. His skin is callused but still much smoother than my rough palms. It feels weird, but very nice. Almost electric. He dabs the cotton ball on the nail, rubbing off all my high end black nail polish. Huh, they look odd. it’s been awhile since my nails have been clean. After wiping them dry, he starts on with the blue. It’s a nice colour. Not something I would pick, but I can see the appeal. Simon drags the brush against my nail slowly but surely, making sure the coat is even.

“Hm,” I say, “you’re good at this.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. “Self taught. A lot of trial and error, y’know? Took me ages to figure out how to do my right hand.”

“I learned from YouTube videos. Those makeup gurus know their shit.”

“Huh, smart. Oh, y’know what.” He stops painting and spins in his chair. Even with his back to me, I now he’s fiddling with his phone. Suddenly, the honeyed voice of Lana Del Rey is resonating through the room. He spins back with a grin.

“Your weird music is necessary?” I raise an eyebrow for sarcastic emphasis. Simon chuckles.

“Yeah, helps me concentrate. And it’s part of my continuing effort to convert you to good music.”

“Oh, is that your grand mission?”

“Yup! Slowly pull you away from all those screamy boys with bad haircuts and towards the beauty of Troye and Lana.”

I scoff. “You keep trying that, darling.”

He gives me a shy but sort of playful look from under his long eyelashes. “I certainly will...darling.”

Oh shit. I hope my complexion hides my blush enough. I smile back and try to look calm, hiding the storm in my chest.

We switch between chatting and companionable silence. Though Simon is never truly quiet. He hums along with the song, or makes noises of contemplation and frustration while trying to get my nails right. His hands slowly get less shaky, which helps. When we’re not talking, I take the opportunity to just watch his expression. How he sticks his tongue out in concentration, and his brow pulls together, and his face adorable pinches together when he gets something wrong. He always tries his best to fix it though, even with his clumsy fingers. It’s really sweet. Just like him.

I'm so unbelievably fucked.

“And...there!” He pulls back with a flourish. “Topcoat and everything. What do you think?”

I examine my hands. Huh, the blue is actually nice on me. And he’s right, the grey matches my eyes. It’s very well done. Maybe black isn’t the only colour I should use. I look up. Simon is staring at me wide eyed, chewing on his lip, leg jittering.

“It’s wonderful,” I say. “You did a marvelous job, Salisbury. Maybe you have a future as a nail artist.”

His nervous expression breaks, thankfully. I’ve found I prefer his grin to his genuine agitation. Blushing smile? Adorable. Wide eyed leg jittering? Not so much. “T-Thanks. Maybe...you could do mine sometime?”

Our eyes meet, and there’s no deception there. He’s always so genuine. It’s amazing. “Sure," I say before thinking. "If you can learn to like black.”

She shrugs. “Well, if you can learn to like blue, I guess I can try black.”

He grins, and I grin back. There’s a stretch of silence. It builds between us, making the air thicker and thicker. I’m torn between what I want to say and what I should. That I want more from this, more than just winks and smiles and “darlings”. But I know it can’t work. Simon should know that. I should tell him, all of it. But...he'll hate me. For not telling him about Switzerland, for using him like a plaything, for being an utterly stupid reckless prick. Can I handle him truly hating me?

“Simon, love! It’s nearly supper! Are you and Baz done your work?” Ms. Salisbury’s voice carries quite well. It jolts me from my depressive pit. Simon sighs and leans out towards the door.

“Yeah! Be down in a minute, Gran.” He looks at me, and I swear I see genuine sadness. “Looks like it’s time to say goodbye.”

I try to hide my own disappointment. “Yeah, looks like it.”

He bounces out of his chair, then offers his hand. I inhale sharply. Did not expect that. But after only a second of hesitation, I take it. He pulls me to my feet with ease. I’m still disturbed by how much his strength excites me.

“C’mon, let’s get you back on your motorbike, Pitch.”

“Should get you on it one day,” I say under my breath.

“What?”

I straighten up, hands in my jacket pockets. “Nothing, Salisbury.”

We walk down the stairs quickly. Well, Simon more jumps down them. He’s a never ending ball of energy. Ms. Salisbury is at the bottom.

“How was the work, you two?” she asks sweetly.

“Wonderful!” Simon chirps. “Talked about bunnies and stuff, and Baz let me do his nails.”

My brow shoots up to my hairline. I can’t believe he’s so open about this. If I told my father or Daphne the same, they would not say anything at best and lecture me at worst. But Ms. Salisbury looks positively elated by Simon’s words. “Oh, marvellous. Finally you can practice on someone other than me, love.”

Simon rolls his eye. “Yeah, like you don’t like it.”

“Of course. But it’s good you have another guinea pig. May I see your work?”

Simon looks at me in silent question. I shrug in response, then hold out my hand for his grandmother. She flips the glasses down from her head. “Amazing job, Simon. You’ve gotten so much better. And it looks great on you, Baz.”

“Thank you, Ms. Salisbury.”

She pulls away, waving dismissively. “Please, call me Ruth. Now, Baz, will you be staying for dinner?”

“Uh.” I turn to Simon. “Am I staying for dinner, Simon?”

Simon’s face turns red. “Oh, sure, if you want.”

I shrug. “I’m certainly in no rush to get home, and if it’s no trouble.”

“Oh it’s none at all,” Ms. Salis- Ruth says, waving her hand dismissively.

“Then I guess I’ll stay for supper.”

Ruth claps her hand once loudly. “Wonderful! Let me put out another setting.”

She saunters off to the kitchen. I decide to actually take off my jacket and boots and stay awhile. Simon leans in close to my ear, making my pulse spike.

“Hope you like roast beef,” he whispers. “It’s the only thing Gran knows how to cook well. Grandpa was a chef, and she’s been on her own since he died, so she’s never had to cook anything else. But she’s been learning more since I’ve got here.”

I shrug like he does. “I think I’ll live.”

“Good to hear.”

Simon leads me to the small dining room table. When I go to the left side, Simon grabs my hand and drags me to the right. I jolt slightly. Wow, that’s bold for him. Not that I’m complaining. I sit next to him as Ruth brings out a platter of delicious smelling meat and mash potatoes. Simon immediately shovels the food on his plate, licking his lips like a starving animal. I on the other hand take only a few slices delicately just like my mother taught me. But Ruth gives me an odd look.

“Are you not hungry, Baz?” she asks.

“Um, no, I am,” I reply slowly.

“Then please, take as much as you like. I always make a lot because of Simon’s endless appetite.”

Simon rolls his eyes, speaking with a mouth full of roast beef. “I’m a growing boy!”

“Growing monster more like it,” Ruth chuckles.

Huh, okay. I decide to be polite and take some more. Dinner proper starts, and it's...weird. My family is never this talkative at supper. We’re mostly silent and sullen. But the Salisburies are the exact opposite. Ruth and Simon chat, though Simon has trouble responding through all the the food in his mouth. (The boy has zero manners. It’s adorable.)

“So, Baz,” Ruth asks, facing me, “how’s school for you? I’ve only ever heard about it from Simon and Miss Penelope.”

No one’s ever asked my opinion of school either. I shrug. “It’s alright. Not my favourite place to be, of course. I think English is my favourite subject.” I tap Simon’s foot under the table. His breath hitches slightly, and he flashes me only a small smile. But it’s enough.

“Glad to hear so. Simon loves English too. He’s always eager to get to first period for Miss Possibelf’s class every morning.”

I flick my eyes over to Simon. His cheeks are flushed as he bites into his roast beef.

“Hm, glad to hear I’m not the only one who loves literature.” I let my voice drawl a bit, hopefully enough for Simon to notice but not Ruth. He doesn’t look up from his food, but I feel his toe tap my foot. And once again, it’s enough. Everything Simon does seems to be enough for me.

“I’m just glad Simon’s adjusting to Watford,” Ruth sighs. “It’s not easy moving schools most of the way through the year.”

Simon sighs in return. They sound almost exactly alike. Though Simon is more exasperated. “I told you, Gran, I’m fine. My grades are much better than last term.”

“There’s a good reason for that.” Ruth aggressively stabs her beef, and Simon looks sad as he nods slightly. This is the only crack in Ruth's kind demeanour I’ve seen all day. It’s strange, and the curious brainiac in me wants to know more. But the sensible part knows to just keep eating my food.

“Hey,” Simon chirps, “did I tell you about the kid who gave himself a wedgie in gum class yet?”

Ruth’s playful smile immediately returns. “No, I don’t believe you have.”

“Oh man, it was hilarious! Baz you’ll love this too.”

I lean my cheek into my palm. “I’m sure I will.”

Simon launches into the rambling anecdote, using mostly weird noises and illustrative hand gestures instead of words. Ruth and I both laugh along genuinely. This is the first time I’ve enjoyed a family meal in ages. It may be unusual, but it’s certainly not unenjoyable.

Soon enough, dinner is over, and Ruth brings out dessert. They’re sour cherry scones from Pritchard Bakery. Simon takes three immediately and starts slathering butter all over them.

“You like scones?” I ask mockingly.

Simon nods, scone crumbs all around his mouth. “Uh-huh. Gran got me some my first day here. They’re absolutely incredible.”

“My cousin owns the bakery, you know.”

His eyes go impossibly wide. “Really?! Could you get me some free samples?”

I shrug, a playful smile on my face. “Maybe.”

“Simon, you eat enough, you don’t need any more,” Ruth kindly berates. Simon frowns.

“There’s never enough scones, Gran.”

Ruth and I exchange an understanding look. Maybe I will bring him to see Cousin Pritchard before I go though. Something to make him happy before I’m gone.

Soon enough, Simon’s eaten all the scones, the dishes are done, and it’s my time to go. I’m a gentleman, I know when to take my leave. Simon and Ruth walk me out of the house.

“It was lovely having you, Baz,” Ruth says. And I have to admit, I’m a bit taken aback. Most parents and/or guardians aren’t this friendly to me. Dev and Niall’s parents barely acknowledge my existence nowadays, and they’ve known me since I was a baby. It’s a warm feeling I never thought I’d miss.

“Thank you for having me, Ruth,” I reply, smiling graciously.

“Anytime. Simon, feel free to invite him over again.”

Simon smiles sweetly at me, cheeks unabashedly scarlet. “Yeah, okay. Maybe we should meet up before the presentation on Wednesday?”

I nod, hoping my cheeks aren’t as bright. “I think I’d like that.”

Because I would. I regretfully very much would.

“Awesome! See you later!”

My lip twitches up without thinking. “See you.”

I get my helmet on. I don’t rev my engine as loud as usual to be respectful. Simon waves with his entire arm, while Ruth’s looks more like the queen. I salute in return. (That seems to be my thing now. I’ve embraced it.)

As I drive back towards my home, my mind stays with the Salisburies. With nail polish, roast beef, and a sense of peaceful happiness that lingers in me long after the house is in the distance.

I get to the Pitch hill and just sit there, looking up at the looming little bastard. I know what I’m supposed to do. Go back to all the misery there. But fuck that. I turn to the left, not back towards Simon’s, but at least somewhere my father isn’t. Somewhere I can keep this feeling for a little longer. And maybe get really pissed.

———————————————-

“Basilton! Where have you been?!”

If I didn’t already have a migraine, I’d assume my father’s voice had just given me one. Going on a two day bender will do that to you. I stop walking but don’t turn around. Honestly, I look like a wreck right now, and I don’t want him to see it.

“Away,” I say curtly.

“Away where?! We haven’t seen you in days! No calls, no mail. We’ve been worried sick!”

I groan and turn on my heels finally. To my utter surprise, he looks genuinely concerned. His eyes are wide and his hair is disheveled, like he’s been running his hands through it. Huh. Actually worried about where I’ve been. That’s a first.

“Well, I’m home now,” I sigh. “Happy?”

“Certainly not.” He puts his hands on his hips like a pissed off school teacher. “I’ve been getting calls from your school. You’ve missed almost all of your classes, including tests and projects. I thought we had an agreement.”

I whip around, scowling with as much menace as I can muster with a hangover. “No, you gave me an ultimatum. And I refuse to be threatened into doing what you want, Father dearest.”

I start stomping away again, but we Grimms refuse to not have the last word. “Are you sure you haven’t just been...distracted, Basilton?”

I stop halfway up the stairs. The tone of his voice could imply many things, but I have a sinking feeling I know what he means. I chuckle, shaking my head. “Daphne told you about Tuesday, I suppose.”

“That you brought a boy over to our house without our knowledge? Yes. And I find it a bit disrespectful that-”

“That I what?!” I yell, probably louder than I should, considering it’s late at night and I have four younger siblings. “Dare to be gay?! Sorry it’s harder to ignore my sexuality when I’m actually acting on it.”

My father takes a deep breath, something he always does when he’s trying to keep his slipping composure. “Basilton, that is not what I meant.”

“Oh really? So you’re actually okay with me bringing guys around? Maybe I’ll start having big gay nightclub parties in the receiving room.”

I can see my father losing his cool. Bit by bit, his perfect British man composure is slipping. It’s the effect I certainly have these days. “That would not be appropriate, Basil. And I merely meant that maybe this ‘Simon’ is distracting you from your studies and causing your poor grades.”

For a second, I don’t know whether to laugh or be furious. Fire bubbles in my gut, my fingers curling on the bannister. Yup, let’s go with righteous fury. I stomp down the stairs and push my face into his.

“No,” I growl, “Simon is not at fault. You are. You are the catalyst for all the things I’m doing now, Your bullheadedness, your pride, your prejudi-”

“Oh for God’s sake, Basil!” He roars. “For once in your life take some goddamn responsibility for your own actions!”

I step back a bit. I haven’t seen him this outwardly angry in a year, but he’s practically seething. If he was the kind of man to throw a punch, he would have just clocked me. But instead he just stares me down in an attempt to intimidate. That won’t work.

“Fuck you,” I mutter, turning on my heels and stomping towards the door.

“Where are you going?” he calls after me.

“Out!” I turn to glare at him. “And I’ll be back when I feel like it!”

I make sure to slam the door very loudly, hoping my message is clear. I know exactly where I want to go. And who I want to see.

———————————————-

AN: Is Baz being a total brat here? Yes. Is his bratiness sorta justified? Also yes. Things are complicated. And finally we meet Ruth! I loved reading everyone's comments speculating about Simon's home life cause this was planned from the start lol. But why is Simon living with Ruth? Well, that will be explained shortly. Tune in next time for answers :)

Chapter title is from "Alfie's Song" by Bleachers.

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #ruth salisbury #fluff #angst #punk/pastel #mysnowbazfanfic

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owl-eyed-woman · 7 years ago

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Pacific Rim Uprising: A Comparative Review

A miracle has occurred. Pacific Rim, the brainchild of Guillermo del Toro that bombed in the US but soared internationally for a total box office gross of $400 million, has, against all odds, managed to get a sequel. Am I dreaming? Pacific Rim: the movie (and now franchise) that could.

But though the existence of a follow-up to this underdog of a movie (if a Hollywood blockbuster can be called that) is certainly miraculous, we must ask ourselves if a greater miracle has occurred: Is Pacific Rim Uprising actually good?

The answer is no… and yes. Wait, let me be clearer. This is a bad movie… and I dug it. OK, this is still confusing. I guess ‘patchy’ is the most accurate word here. The patches mostly consist of giant gaping holes of badness, but there are patches of (relative) goodness.

Let’s get this out of the way: Uprising is, in most ways, not the Pacific Rim we know and love. Set 10 years after the first, sporting a new director along with an almost entirely new cast, it is unmistakably a departure from the first one. Yes, it still has giant robots and giant monsters and they do indeed punch each other, but it is a fundamentally different movie in so many ways that it isn’t really surprising to find that something essential has been lost in the sequel.

I almost feel bad comparing Pacific Rim Uprising to its predecessor. As special as Pacific Rim was, I do typically believe that movies should be judged on their own merits… but it is a sequel and such comparisons are inevitable, so screw it, I’m doing it anyway.

Before we can unpack what Pacific Rim Uprising lacks, we first need to understand what made Pacific Rim so beloved.

Pacific Rim was special from the start. Guillermo del Toro, a man who has made a career out of penning revisionist love letters to cherished nerd genres, somehow managed to get 200 million dollars to make a big budget ode to monster movies and mecha anime. This once-in-a-millennia, stars-aligning act of providence made Pacific Rim, from its inception, something to behold and treasure.

But to suggest that the improbability of Pacific Rim’s existence is what makes it so special, is to do a disservice to Guillermo Del Toro and the film he created.

On a purely surface level, Pacific Rim has some of the most striking visuals of an action movie in recent years. Pacific rim could have just skated by on the novel prospect of trashy anime and B-movie visuals paired with the polish of a Hollywood blockbuster. Instead, Guillermo del Toro paired this already enticing spectacle with what can only be described as an explosion of saturated rainbow. In a time when The Dark Knight-inspired grey was the norm, Pacific Rim was a sweet, candy-coloured treat for sore eyes. I would even argue that the neon wonder of Guardians of the Galaxy and Thor: Ragnarok have the bravery of Pacific Rim’s psychedelic colour palette to thank.

But the uniqueness of Pacific Rim goes much deeper than its admittedly stunning surface. What makes Pacific Rim stand, maybe not above, but most definitely apart from the crowd, is tone and theme.

At its heart, Pacific Rim is a silly movie. Its premise is ridiculous, its spectacle is over the top, it’s big budget, b-movie, anime trash. In the hands of a lesser director *cough Steven S. Deknight cough* this kind of movie would most likely be couched in a form of defensive snark and detached irony, as if embarrassed by its own frivolousness; the implication being that a movie like Pacific Rim is an indulgence we can partake in, but only if we feel guilty about.

This is what makes Pacific Rim so refreshing; it isn’t ashamed of itself. Every ridiculous line, every overwrought emotion, every heroic sacrifice and every earnest declaration, contains not one ounce of shame or cynicism. Instead, Pacific Rim oozes self-love, pride and, perhaps most unexpectedly, gravity.

There is always an urge to dismiss the often-simplistic conflicts and relationships we see in movies like Pacific Rim as mindless fluff, but Pacific Rim just won’t let you. Every part of this movie is delivered with a feeling of weight and import. An elbow rocket may at first seem like a throw-away sight-gag, but honestly, Pacific Rim takes Jaegers, and, by extension, their elbow rockets, seriously and you should too. They are trying to cancel the apocalypse and you need to get on board.

In this way, Pacific Rim doesn’t just make sure you get invested in the movie’s characters, robots, monsters and endlessly goofy dialogue; it makes sure you respect it.

And honestly, as much as I’ve been playing up the more outlandish parts of Pacific Rim’s premise, it’s hard not to respect the truly weighty and revolutionary ideas that Pacific Rim contends with. Its central conceit shows every nation banding together to save the world in a utopian vision of internationalism and global co-operation. Its puppy dog-like characters love each other with all their heart seemingly from the second they meet, truly trusting each other with theirs lives and innermost self. Its Jaegers are literally powered by emotional understanding and compassion between human beings. Every part of Pacific Rim expounds a far too rare faith in humanity’s potential for positivity, idealism and empathy.

In a movie ostensibly about revelling in the apocalypse, Pacific Rim was, in actual fact, creating a utopia by showing us how humanity’s fundamental goodness could save the world. So needless to say, it is deeply disappointing to find that these things that made Pacific Rim so memorable and, dare I say, important, have been abandoned by the sequel.

The most obvious change is, unsurprisingly, the visual style, as the rainbow extravaganza of Pacific Rim is traded in for the grim, muted greys of reality. To be fair, Pacific Rim Uprising is not entirely devoid of colour, but it isn’t soaking in it like the first film.

In the scheme of things, it’s not a devastating loss, but it is indicative of Pacific Rim Uprising’s biggest problem: its decision to trade in the flavour and uniqueness of Pacific Rim for the bland, the generic and the safe.

Thematically, the internationalism of the first movie is still present implicitly in the diversity of its cast, but the unique positivity and unabashed idealism of the first film has been abandoned. Ideas of empathy and interpersonal relationships are inextricably woven into the premise of Pacific Rim, but these elements never really congeal into any coherent message or ideology; it has lost the unique voice and lofty ambitions of Pacific Rim, so it never feels like Pacific Rim Uprising is trying to say anything other than ‘friendship is good’ and ‘let’s save the world’.

Tonally, the child-like sincerity and self-respect of Pacific Rim has been replaced by generic snark and detached “edgy” humour. Mostly, this tonal shift is just boring and predictable – scenes play out emotionally like you’d expect, characters react with defensive sarcasm and contempt, the humour is crude and forgettable. It plays like a typical, middle of the road blockbuster, content in its mediocrity.

To be fair, it doesn’t not work, it mostly just exists, but it also leads to some bewilderingly bad choices when it comes to humour, especially when it involves the younger members of the cast. A joke about a cadet’s plastic surgeon father goes on for far too long and somehow, in 2018, the triumphant blast off for battle is accompanied by, of all things, the Trololol song.

That’s not to say all the sincerity or joy has been lost – a scene where the team bands together to rebuild their Jaegers hits the right blend of cheesy and awesome, and Jake and Amara’s bond is, at times, quite sweet but in the context of such a snide movie, these glimpses of sincerity seem awkward and unnatural.

Let me put it this way. In Uprising, a Jaeger, the awe-inspiring feat of human ingenuity and mechanical embodiment of empathy and co-operation, flips a kaiju the bird. This is the what Pacific Rim is now.

It’s appropriate that Pacific Rim Uprising shifts the focus to a younger generation of cadets, because Uprising kind of reminds me of being a teenager. It wants so badly to be detached and cool, but it’s far too desperate and unsure of itself to ever truly be considered ‘hip’; it embodies that awkward teenage posturing we all thankfully escape in adulthood. Contrastingly, Pacific Rim exudes the confidence of an adult, secure in their interests and themselves, and in that, effortlessly achieves the coolness Pacific Rim Uprising so desperately seeks.

By now, I think I’ve made it clear that Pacific Rim Uprising is pretty bad, but the thing is, I actually do think there’s some good in here!

But before I get into that, we need to once again, return to the original Pacific Rim, because I haven’t been entirely honest in my assessment. Though my glowing praise at the beginning of this review may suggest an intense, fangirl-ish love of Pacific Rim, in all honesty, I actually don’t like it that much. I appreciate it, I respect it, and I do enjoy parts of it, but there are fundamental flaws that prevent me from truly loving it, specifically, character and plot.

When it comes to Pacific Rim’s characters, the word patchy once again comes to mind. There is some genuinely strong character work in this movie - Mako Mori was rightfully praised at the time for being a well-rounded and interesting female character with a character arc separate from the men around her – and then there is some bafflingly incompetent character work, namely, Raleigh, the protagonist of the film, is fundamentally uninteresting.

Part of this can be attributed to the dearth of charisma that is Charlie Hunnam who seems unable to imbue Raleigh with any emotional depth, but even setting this bland performance aside, Raleigh just feels like countless other mediocre male leads. He’s got a tragic backstory related to a dead family member that he still hasn’t gotten over and he needs to learn to let someone else into his heart before he can save the world; I’ve seen this plot in most uninspired video games.

But to be fair, just because this setup is cliché doesn’t mean it couldn’t have been interesting; Pacific Rim is, in many aspects, an example of this, elevating classic genre tropes through thoughtful execution and smart, progressive additions.

This only makes it more perplexing that Raleigh remains so conventional, with no real twist or update. Even the most interesting part of his character arc, that is, the difficulty of reconnecting emotionally with others after a loss, falls flat since Raleigh never seems to struggle with this. Once he agrees to re-join the Jaeger program and meets Mako, he instantly accepts her as his co-pilot and his arc is resolved.

This emotional hollowness also impacts Pacific Rim’s greater plot issues. Pacific Rim’s plot is mostly passable, with a straightforward story propped up by the novelty of the premise and world. However, Guillermo del Toro seems to be aware that to make Pacific Rim great, he can’t just rely on the inherent coolness of giant robots and monsters fighting. To this end, he has intentionally foregrounded human relationships in the very premise of the film with the idea of an intense, emotional connection required for Jaeger co-pilots to control their mech – its ingenious really! But that only makes it more disappointing and bizarre that Raleigh’s arc is so devoid of emotional depth. This setup for emotional conflict never really pays off past the halfway point of the film, with next to no internal conflict between Mako and Raleigh after they drift together. They face external threats of course, like Kaiju, Stacker and an angry Australian, but there is no conflict between our main characters.

That’s not to say there is no emotional conflict in this movie; Mako struggles to reconcile her respect for her adopted father with her need to define her own destiny and avenge her family’s death. But as amazing as Mako is, she isn’t the main character. We’re stuck with Raleigh, a bland, white man who is the hero despite the fact that his female co-star is so much more compelling and, well, heroic.

The other threads in the film are similarly hit or miss. Idris Elba kills it as Stacker Pentecost but the Australian Jaeger pilots are mostly annoying and the resolution to Yancy’s arc is perfunctory and unearned. I honestly loved Newton and Hermann but many people found them grating, and the other secondary characters, while memorable, remain fairly flat, sketched out in broad strokes rather than elaborated upon with depth or nuance.

I still think Pacific Rim is a great, nay, important movie, but I also think we must acknowledge where great movies go wrong and, conversely, where terrible movie go (somewhat) right, or perhaps more accurately, go wrong again but in a slightly different direction.

?) Thus, we once more return to Pacific Rim Uprising. In regards to the film’s protagonist, Raleigh has been cast aside and traded in for a newer model in the form of John Boyega as Jake Pentecost, which, unsurprisingly, is a good decision. As a character, Jake isn’t anything we haven’t seen before, but there are a few things that elevate him above his archetypal beginnings. John Boyega’s performance makes a huge difference. Unlike Charlie Hunnam, he has genuine screen presence and acting skills to boot, imbuing what could be a flat, cliché role with character and vivacity - he is a speck of salt in an otherwise bland and flavourless movie.

But to give props where its due, Jake’s arc is just better constructed than Raleigh. Thematically, Jake has more going on than Raleigh; he starts off as a party boy avoiding responsibility to both his family and the world and learns how to move past his father and sister’s death and become the leader the world needs. Already, it’s a stronger base for a character than Raleigh’s, but what really makes Jake work is how he genuinely struggles with what path he should take; he tries and fails, he makes mistakes, he grows, and because of this, when he finally gets his heroic moment as both a leader and a surrogate brother to Amara, it feels earned and makes the earlier struggles actually mean something.

Did I just praise Pacific Rim Uprising? Well, don’t get used to it, because, like its predecessor, Pacific Rim Uprising can’t seem to get a handle on its ensemble. This leads me to the worst part of the movie: the cadets.

The cadet plot line didn’t have to be bad. On a meta-textual level, it makes sense – just as the cadets are aspiring to take over from an older generation of Jaeger pilots, so too is Uprising is taking on the mantle of the original Pacific Rim. On a more basic level, who doesn’t like stories with training montages and burgeoning camaraderie?

But even the most basic elements of character development are absent from Uprising. The cadets have screen time, they appear in scenes and they say things, yet it is all done with no greater purpose or pay-off. For Generic Teens, 1 through 6 (i can’t remember their names and I refuse to look them up), they remain half-baked, under-developed and pointless.

The cadet storyline needed not just re-writing, but some actual writing, because if the filmmakers don’t care about the cadets, why should I? In the end, the only real function the cadets have is to be an attentive audience for John Boyega when he delivers his Pentecost brand inspirational speech.

But as angry as the mishandling of the cadets makes me, I am only saddened by the film’s mistreatment of their female characters.

Pacific Rim was a feminist film with some caveats: while Mako became a minor feminist icon because of the (sadly) uncommon amount of respect and care given to her arc, she was still the only female character in an otherwise a male-dominated film.

One might think then, that Pacific Rim Uprising, with its noticeable increase in female characters, could challenge the first movie on the feminist front, but apart from Amara (who is fine), every female character is under-served and disrespected.

The most cursory and useless of them all is the ‘character’ Jules. I’ve put quotation marks around ‘character’ because her only character trait is ‘happens to be into Nate’. You see, the filmmakers wanted some sexual tension, along with some bro-conflict between the two male leads but they didn’t want to go to the bother of writing an actual character for these bros to lust after. So they didn’t. You could edit her out of the movie and lose nothing. It is unacceptable to so callously write a woman like this.

They do better with Shao, the imperious and imposing head of Shao Industries. She works well as a fake out villain, but when she takes a more active role in the third act, she is denied the development and screen time needed to make me truly invested in her. Yes, it’s a cool moment when she pilots Scrapper and saves our heroes, but her appearance is more of a convenience than any culmination for her character.

But what of Mako aka the best character in the whole franchise? Mako returns for a bit as Jake’s older sister and shines as the new boss of the PPDC, before being killed off in the first act. Mako, a character who was never defined by the men around her, has been reduced to fodder for male character development. Need I say more?

I can’t help but imagine what could have been if Mako hadn’t been fridged, and she’d been the one to pilot Scrapper and save her brother and Amara’s life in the climax – what a moment that would have been! Or, if not this, imagine if they had truly fleshed out Shao as a character with an arc. Or, why not simply have two Asian female leads treated with respect they deserve? But maybe I’m being unrealistic (if it’s not clear, this angry sarcasm).

But despite these numerous flaws, I still really enjoy this movie, if only because, unlike the first movie, I was never bored by the story.

Pacific Rim had a great world and premise, but its plot was too straightforward and predictable. Pacific Rim Uprising, by comparison, has a sense of mystery and several reveals that genuinely surprised me. As much as I bemoaned Uprising’s generic tone, for most of the film, I really had no idea where it was going, and that’s not something to be dismissed.

Admittedly, Uprising’s success in this realm is indebted to the original Pacific Rim and the skill with which Guillermo del Toro built its world. It’s because of this strong foundation that Uprising is able to take this franchise into new and bold places, expanding on the world of Pacific Rim in exciting ways, like all good sequels should! We get to see how the Jaeger program proceeds after the threat has seemingly disappeared, as well as new drone tech looking to supersede a human workforce, the repercussions of human-kaiju drifting and kaiju-jaeger hybrids! This is all fascinating stuff and I’m actually getting excited just thinking about it. It reminds me of why I was so desperate for a sequel in the first place.

Yes, most of it is handled clumsily and it’s still plagued by character and tone issues, but the core ideas and worldbuilding are strong enough that it still made the film worth watching. And sometimes, you even get glimpses of a good movie in there; seeing the effect of kaiju-drifting on Newton, the reveal of Alice and how his and Hermann’s relationship had changed, was so satisfying and well-done it shocked me (I’ll stop here before I start fangirling about Newmann).

This is all supported by some stellar action scenes. Earlier, I bemoaned the loss of Pacific Rim’s rainbow colour scheme, but to the film’s credit, what it sacrifices in visual innovation, it makes up for in clarity and thrills. The fights are faster, the monsters are bigger and every Jaeger has a sword. Like all good action sequels, Uprising ups the scale, the spectacle and the challenge, and lives up to the inherent coolness of watching two giant things fight each other.

There’s a scene in Pacific Rim Uprising, just before the final battle, where the Jaeger pilots and cadets combine broken parts of various mechs in order to build a working Jaeger to fight with. In the film, it’s a triumphant moment, but it’s also the perfect metaphor for Pacific Rim Uprising: it’s a mess of a movie made with broken and disparate parts, that may function, but not as a cohesive whole. Many choices are bad. Some choices are different. Some choices are good. It is the definition of a mixed bag.

But honestly, at the end of the day, I’m still left with a smile on my face, and an eager, grabby hand reaching back into that mixed bag for more.

I hope they make a sequel

(but Uprising bombed at the box office so...)

#pacific rim #pacific rim uprising #guillermo del toro #movie reviews #movie criticism #review #reviews #criticism #mako mori #mako #raleigh #raleigh becket #newton geiszler #hermann gottlieb #jaeger #kaiju #jake pentecost #pacific rim 2

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impressivepress · 4 years ago

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How the Master Became the Master

Matisse: Radical Invention, 1913–1917 is the kind of show the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) does best: take a specific period of an artist’s career and demonstrate the development and breadth of that aesthetic vision. Co-curated with the Art Institute of Chicago, it is a big show about a brief time in the great artist’s long life. It is both a revolutionary and revelationary approach that is breathtaking in its concentration on five important and yet often overlooked years in the artist’s career.

Matisse: Radical Invention, 1913–1917 is the art exhibition to see in New York – and more than once. Before anyone quibbles about yet another Matisse show, consider that MoMA and Chicago have taken out of storage and from many public and private collections rarely seen works to play off one another in this mammoth undertaking. Although it contains over 100 works, the display is never oppressive. It never feels padded. One eagerly races from one gallery to the next to take it all in. This art all seems still so vigorous and fresh, as radical as ever. The selection reflects the full range of the artist’s vast invention through paintings, sculptures, prints and drawings. Nothing could be more thrilling and satisfying. Matisse: Radical Invention, 1913–1917 defines what a blockbuster should be.

This title, of course, is not only misleading but nonsense. A large number of the works belong to years other than the designated five. They commence with the aggressive Blue Nude (Souvenir de Biskra) of 1907 and continue as late as 1931 when the artist completed the fourth and final “Back” relief. What does “Radical Invention” mean as far as Matisse’s career is concerned? Would not that apply to every phase of it? Naturally MoMA and Chicago rely on their own rich holdings, but the exhibit would have been enhanced in places with pertinent examples from the Hermitage in St. Petersburg and the Barnes Foundation on Philadelphia’s Main Line. The Russian Sergei Shchukin was the great early collector of Matisse, but the dreadful economy may have prohibited any loans. Perhaps it was pointless to try to borrow anything once owned by the idiosyncratic Alfred C. Barnes. Though the masterpieces Dance I (1909) and The Red Studio (1911) too are conspicuously absent, both can be found on another floor of MoMA in the permanent collection.

If Picasso had his Blue and Pink Periods, then 1913 to 1917 might be called Matisse’s Gray Period. The understated palette he now employed drew on subtle shades of gray, blue and rose, some brown and green, all held together by thick black. Some paintings look almost monochromatic or like hand-coloured photographs. There is nothing naturalistic about the hues he chooses. As in the work of Cézanne and many of Matisse’s Cubist contemporaries, the underlying drawing was of greater importance to his paintings than any brilliant colour effects, even though the use of light continued to play a significant part in these pictures. Matisse found radical new ways of applying paint to canvas. He layered, slathered, splashed, slashed, smeared and scratched it. The raw textures invigorate the subdued colours. Matisse, like the revered Cézanne before him, audaciously allowed the bare white of the canvas to show through as another colour.

The numerous paintings of bathers in the MoMA show perhaps too conveniently refer back to Cézanne's Three Bathers (1879–1882) that Matisse owned and then look forward to Matisse’s monumental Bathers by the River (1917) from Chicago, the kingpin that closes the exhibit. La Luxe II (1907–1908) looks less like late stolid Cézanne than limp vintage Vallotin; and the coy expression of horror (or is it wonder?) on the central figure in Bathers with a Turtle (1908) wrecks this absurd picture. Yet Bather (1908), a young nude male from the back, is one of the most powerful pictures Matisse ever painted. It is the only one of these swimming paintings comparable in quality to Bathers by a River, one of the master’s masterpieces. Bather embodied everything that Matisse was attempting as an artist at the time.

The African influence is still evident in many of these pictures, particularly the portraits. Like the pencil drawing of Shchukin and the famous Portrait of Madame Matisse (1913) in the Hermitage, Portrait of Sarah Stein (1916) wears a mask instead of a face. So too do The Italian Woman (1916) and Portrait of Auguste Pellerin (II) (1917). The latter sitter rejected an earlier version of the picture, but Matisse was not really interested in capturing exact likenesses. The Italian Woman fades in and out of the background in a composition that fuses Cubist conventions with Matisse’s own concepts of construction. The artist was more concerned with the colours and patterns in The Manila Shawl (1911) than in the woman who wore it. The rather smug Nude with a White Scarf (1909) is just as blunt as any of Picasso’s African-inspired pictures of Parisian prostitutes.

The show really does take off as it progresses from 1913 when the painter returned to Paris from Morocco until his departure for Nice in 1917. Picasso as always was Matisse’s bête noir. Les Demoiselles d'Avignon (1907) forced everyone to entirely rethink art. (Ironically, Matisse was the one who introduced the Spaniard to African art.) Fellow Fauves like Georges Braque and André Derain deserted Matisse for Cubism. No matter how much he might have wanted to, Matisse could not ignore Picasso. Theirs was a heated rivalry that greatly fuelled Modern Art as each artist tried to outdo the other. Not surprisingly, Matisse once compared their relationship to a prizefight. “No one has ever looked at Matisse's paintings more carefully than I,” Picasso confessed and then added with some irony, “and no one has looked at mine more carefully than he”. The show at MoMA proves that Matisse was as revolutionary as Picasso.

Be warned that the Matisse of the current show is not the popular painter of the postcards and posters, the beloved old sensualist obsessed with colour, line and the female form. This is the thinking man’s Matisse, struggling with the precepts of the Cubist Revolution to develop what he called “methods of modern construction”. Most importantly, he shifted from concerns of colour to questions of form as he developed his own distinctive visual shorthand for figure and landscape. Despite his familiarity with Picasso’s efforts, Matisse did not follow anyone. The French poet and critic Guillaume Apollinaire shrewdly observed at the time, “Matisse’s art is eminently reasonable”. Yet the artist himself insisted that he relied only on his instincts.

Working almost solely within his studio, Matisse seemed disengaged from the world outside him. Many of the paintings of this period deal with windows and the play of sunlight streaming through them. Despite the inconveniences the war inflicted on the artist, these pictures and sculptures are entirely divorced from the mayhem then raging around him. Like Bonnard, Matisse was a master of bourgeois domesticity. He sought “an art of balance, of purity and serenity, devoid of troubling or depressing subject matter” that should be “a calming influence on the mind, something like a good armchair which provides relaxation from physical fatigue”. He tried to enlist in the French army but was turned down because he was 44 years old. He continued to busy himself throughout the war with portraits, nudes, interiors, exteriors and still lives just as he had during peacetime. There are no soldiers in uniform, no battle scenes, no reference to or residue of the devastation just beyond his studio. Matisse preferred to draw the precise contours of a piece of fruit on a plate to depicting the violence then destroying the rest of the country. Viewing Matisse’s work done during those turbulent times is as if the First World War never happened. Although he did produce a series of prints to aid the prisoners in Bohain-en-Vermandois in 1914 and 1915, Matisse was not a political artist. Pleasure and the pursuit of happiness alone defined his art.

Not wishing to draw attention to himself with the rest of the world at war, Matisse chose not to exhibit these works as they were being produced. Consequently, critics and scholars have largely neglected this crucial period in his life, until MoMA’s exhibition. Other painters must have been familiar with individual pictures. Portrait of Auguste Pellerin (II) with its predominant black lines suggests Max Beckman’s German Expressionist paintings and Composition (1915) finds echoes in the American Milton Avery’s later art while Branch of Lilacs (1914) and The Rose Marble Table (1916) must have inspired the Russian David Shterenberg. Particularly fascinating is Matisse’s 1915 deconstruction of his own 1893 student copy of Still Life After Jan Davidsz. de Heem’s “La Desserte” decades before Picasso re-imagined works by Velasquez, Cranach and other Old Masters. Matisse had come across the old picture while going through things he had moved to Issy-les-Moulineaux after the French army requisitioned his home in Paris. Here was a typical painting of the Dutch school relying on heavy chiaroscuro that Matisse discarded when he brightened it up “by adding everything I’ve seen since”. The new work looks like a collage of little still lives done in a variety of manners and yet they all fit together to form a surprisingly integrated composition. It is like a Mini-Master Class in Modernism.

No matter how commonplace may be his subjects, there is nothing conventional about their rendering. The simple but monumental Apples (1916) and A Vase with Oranges (1916) purify the genre and nearly outdo the grandiose Dutch Masters. The Blue Window (1913) looks back to The Red Studio by displaying some objects, including one of the artist’s sculptures, against a single colour that dominates the room and the rhythmic landscape beyond the pane. The sunlight cuts up Goldfish and Palette (1914–1915) into odd angles. A wide band of black shadow behind the fishbowl gives it and the goldfish a haunting luminosity. Matisse had originally painted himself into the picture on the right; only his thumb in the palette remains. Matisse, much as Cézanne did on his trips to Provence, redefines the very nature of the landscape itself in the colliding slashes of colour in Shaft of Sunlight, the Woods of Trivaux (1917) and the flat geometric shapes of Garden at Issy (1917).

Matisse never entirely embraced pure painting, but he came damn close to it during this highly exploratory period. Although never completed, French Window at Collioure (1914) summarises all Matisse was thinking at the time. No more than a view through window into the darkness, it is arguably the most abstract of his works. It is almost a Colour Field painting as a large swatch of black is squeezed between the wide blue-gray stripe of the opened window on the left and the other gray half of it and the green wall on the right. Equally extraordinary is View of Notre Dame (1914), a brash, concise architectural rendering of the famed landmark against a blotchy blue ground. Many people once believed the painter had left it unfinished. Its stark simplicity is not what one expects of Matisse, yet the skeleton of the cathedral is powerful as such. Though few others have realised it, Matisse always insisted that he provided a specific subject in Composition (1915). It is another view from his window with the floral curtain evident on the left. However, the landscape outside has been reduced flat areas of pure colour, a swirl of bright yellow against light blue and green.

The little known and rarely seen prints of this period are the real revelation of this show. The graceful pencil-thin etchings seem to be fighting to break free of the confines of the edge of the plates. The modest monotypes of white lines against velvety black ground sore in their simplicity and clarity. Matisse full realised these often-overlooked still lives in as few strokes as possible.

Matisse took risks. Consequently, not all of his experiments were successful. One obvious dud is Head, White and Rose (1914) that is no more than a lame parody of Cubism. It does not even look like a Matisse. The Portrait of Yvonne Landesberg (1914) too is less than stellar, being more Larionov than Matisse. The rays seem arbitrarily imposed upon the sitter rather than radiating from her, as do the black lines that define the figure of Portrait of Olga Merson (1911). Matisse scraped them apparently with the end of his brush after completing the rest of the Landesberg picture.

The juxtaposition of all these different kinds of art in a single exhibition is often brilliantly done. Nothing seems to clash. It is a pleasure to compare the zaftig Blue Nude with two small 1907 sculptures of another reclining nude nearby; and the bronze heads of Jeanette are conveniently placed beside each other for easy study. Oddly the four muscular bronze Back (1907–1931) reliefs are displayed chronologically, rather than lined up back to back like soldiers as in their usual place in MoMA’s garden. Having to run back and forth in this exhibition to trace their artistic development greatly diminishes their impact.

Modernism often teeters on caricature and Matisse’s work is no exception. Mme. Derain could not have been flattered much by the 1914 etching nor Jeanne Vaderin by his series of brawny bronzes. The rough, rugged, raw Blue Nude seems a parody of the smooth sleek boudoir paintings of the period. Aggressively un-erotic, it still shocks. Not surprisingly Picasso did not care for it. “If he wants to make a woman, let him make a woman,” the Cubist complained when he encountered it in Gertrude Stein’s apartment. “If he wants to make a design, let him make a design.”

These works are often difficult, sometimes frustrating and always fascinating. They beg the viewer to take risks too. One of the most Cubistic of the paintings in form and hue, Woman on a High Stool (Germaine Raynal)” (1914), is a stunning picture and surprisingly reminiscent of Giacometti. The black line gives mass to the figure and the limited colour pushes it forward off the flat canvas. Another major painting in the show, The Moroccans (1915–1916), reduces the Near Eastern scene to its stark geometry against the black background. The clump of green Cubist bushes turns out to be men kneeling in prayer.

Everything comes together in The Music Lesson (1916). The painter’s little boy plays the piano amidst his father’s art while the sunlight through the picture window plays tricks on the living room and upon his young face. A small sculpture from 1908 nestles in the lower left corner with Woman on a High Stool on the wall to the right, suggesting the music teacher as she listens to the child’s fingers exercises behind him or reflected in a mirror. Matisse does not merely copy that earlier painting: he re-conceives it as a distinctive new picture.

If any of this art fails to awe the viewer, it is the drawings. They seem more the means to the end rather than concise, distinctive works done entirely on their own terms. The charcoal and pencil studies of women are more about erasing than drawing. Some sketches from Morocco are no more than doodles lacking the master’s touch. As another artist said in a different context, it is like looking at Matisse in his underwear. Not a pretty sight.

Matisse often reworked his canvases, radically transforming them into almost entirely different works of art. This was particularly true of Bathers by a River. The artist himself called it one of the five most important pictures of his entire career. It is hard to argue with him. It went through a long gestation of six distinct states all carefully documented in the exhibition, a digital survey and the catalogue. The Art Institute of Chicago recently bombarded the picture with a series of scientific investigations to determine exactly its aesthetic evolution. Begun in 1909 originally as a mural for Shchukin’s stairway in his Moscow home, Matisse returned to the picture again and again and ended up with one of the great works of the 20th century. Although likely not his initial intent, the sculpted nudes, now pared down to their simplest forms, could be different views of the same model on four separate panels. Each is rendered slightly differently from every other one. The artist likewise rethought Back in four distinct forms between 1908 and 1931, producing among the most influential sculptures of the modern era. Unlike his pictures that he painted over, Matisse wisely preserved each state of this sculpture.

Now the bad news. The curators have been so caught up in the latest technology that they seem to have lost sight of the art in their exhibition. They are so busy studying the trees that they do not quite see the forest. They have taken X-rays of the pictures and digitally reconstructed the various stages of their development and eagerly put their research on the walls. Doggedly applying modern science to these works drains them of their magic, their mystery, their poetry. “Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car?” wondered Edgar Allan Poe in his Sonnet To Science. The oversized supplemental panels mounted between the pictures are crammed with lots of text and many tiny snapshots. Some discuss paintings missing from the show. Such gratuitous minutiae are more appropriate for an academic dissertation than an art exhibition. All this scholarly stuff encourages unnecessary congestion as patrons plant their feet before the paintings to diligently listen to the banality of the commentary on their headphones as they strain to study the panels. Some may even glance from time to time at the art. There is so much to read and so many little reproductions to look at that it all distracts from the major thrust of the organisers’ fine argument. Better, in fact, to buy the weighty catalogue and study the scholarship at leisure.

~ Michael Patrick Hearn · 23 Sep 2010.

#matisse #art article #exibition review #review #studio international #painting #fauvism #Bathers by a River #the moroccans #the piano lesson #ww1

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princelysharkhusband · 7 years ago

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SidonxReader (Promises Pt3)

Pairing: Prince Sidon x Reader (LoZ:BotW) Genre: Romance!! BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT WE NEED Summary: The first time Prince Sidon was allowed…no asked to travel further away from his home than ever before. And for no less reason than to find help to save his people from a threat that his father had yet to explain to him! With only a small silver crest, a map and his best friend Link he makes his way to the first temple in order to remind the goddess herself of a long forgotten promise. What he finds there is not what he expected.

((HOLY COW SO MANY FAVS!! I hope I can make you all happy little bunnies with this chapter too!<3 Much love to all of you!))

The three of you had walked but a distance when the sun was beginning to set. All in all, you had to admit, the experience was less awful than you had expected.

Sure, the soles of your feet were burning , your eyes were getting tired, your stomach was aching strangely …

…

well, no, it was awful; but the world around you and the nature you got to see were almost enough to make up for the pain. So much space and open field around and above you- being ‘free’ like this could have been perfect if only you weren’t constricted by the flesh and bones that weighed you down. More than once you had allowed your thoughts to drift off into the blue skies, wishing you could join the clouds and the birds. Not that you would admit any of that to those shabby mortals though. Apart from the angry glare now and then you hadn’t communicated with anyone since the journey had begun. The others had talked. Small conversations about things from the past, anecdotes and small talk. You would have probably listened if you hadn’t been so angry still. The sky was already painted in a rich palette of orange and purple tones when Link decided it was time to set up camp. “Enough for today. We should rest for the night and continue our way once the sun rises.” The Hylian dumped his sword and shield on the ground. He stretched a little and started looking for firewood. “Huh, still no river or lake anywhere near us, what a pity…” The Zora joined his friend in picking up dry branches and leaves. “I’d much prefer to rest in a refreshing spring than out in the open for yet another night.” Rest? Now, here? “Will it be alright?” The blonde asked Sidon as they put layers of wood and leaves in a small heap on the floor. “Ah, no! Don’t worry about a thing! As long as I have the flask and the talisman I will be as fine as a fish in the sea- only without the sea!” Prince Sidon grinned and patted a small pouch on his side. “Again, thank you for your help Link. I know there is enough work to be done for the Champion of Hyrule as it is already… certainly she had a hard time letting you go.” He paused and watched while Link lit the fire. “I am sure Princess Zelda is missing her knight already.” The boy didn’t answer but his subtle smile and the rosy tint on his cheeks betrayed his silence. He’d left to help his friend in need because he wanted to; but saying that the princess was the only one missing someone would have been a lie.

“Come, sit with us.” A waving hand invited you to join the two men at the slowly awakening fire. You shifted your weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. “I can still walk…” Why do we have to rest here? “It’s getting dark. I know you are in a hurry just as we are too but…This is the wilderness, you never know what it is that you can encounter here in the dead of the night.” Link knelt down and put a sharp stick through an apple while he said this. The red cheeked fruit was put over the fire. “We rest here so we can cover more ground tomorrow without the fear of getting eaten alive.” His serious expression turned into an innocent smile. “Besides, aren’t you hungry too?” “Your feet must be hurting also- you shouldn’t strain yourself too much, young lady.” The Zora added with a calm tone. Your eyes wandered between the two. And the Apple. “It has been a long day…”, he said. His eyes lingered on you and he held out one hand, beckoning for you to come closer. “I….” The smell of the slowly roasting fruit started to float through the air. It smelled sweet and delicious. You knew you were hungry. You didn’t want to walk on those feet anymore- and the monsters scared you when you imagined them ripping apart the sensitive new body you inhabited. Pain, you thought, was the last thing you needed more of. A quick glance over your shoulder sealed the deal. You could walk into the darkness, alone, hurting and frightened. Or join these …people, you decided…for warmth, food and rest. Each step forward stung like walking on glass. You sat down between the two, looking at each of them warily. Link smiled and nodded while he patiently watched the apple over the fire taking on a bronze sheen. The Zora was for once not showing his sharp teeth. The smile on his face was there, however. Just a tad bit less flashy, a tad bit quieter than before. He shifted his gaze to the flames. And you couldn’t help but admire the play of light on his features as the fire shone on his form. Really, you hadn’t seen a Zora before in all of your years. You had seen countless Hylians and Humans back in the day- but never a Zora. He had such a different body, lean with a much longer torso than a Human or Hylian. …and he had fins like a fish! They were on the arms and the hips; thin, colourful layers adorned their edges. There were so many pretty colours on him…why was he even wearing those metal pieces…sure they were pretty too….but did he need them? You looked up to get a better view on him. The red fins that framed his face looked soft… “Hm? What is it?” The golden eyes snapped back to you. “Eh…” What…? OH…no! Of course you had openly stared at him! You got caught staring at the Zora because you hadn’t realized that this time- people would be able to notice you staring at them. Say bye bye to spying on people while being invisible! Another disadvantage this new shell had brought with it! Curses! You pouted and looked the other way, leaving him puzzled. But not for long. “Ha, I know- why don’t we use this time to finally introduce ourselves? Since you seemed so adamant about walking in silence we had no chance to do this earlier today. I shall start to make it easier on you!” He jumped to his feet and turned to look at you with a slight bow. The sudden enthusiasm made you jump a little. “I am Sidon, the Zora Prince, son of King Dorephan!” He recited this with his flashy grin again. The whole thing looked like it had been rehearsed, which you guessed was only normal for royalty. Not that you cared…you already knew both of their names from before, when they…. …ugh. Enough of that. “…and this young man—“ he gestured to Link and inhaled for the next sentence. “I am Link.” , the Hylian boy simply stated with a smile. Sidon stopped and gave a hearty laugh before he sat back down. “You are too humble, friend, as always!” “Now, young lady…” he said to you,” please, tell us your name.” You straightened your back, wanting to exude the natural grace your kind was gifted with. There was a proud smile on your face when you opened your mouth. “My name is….” And the smile faded. “…it’s…” Confusion replaced it. “..I am…” You gasped when realization hit you like a brick. You didn’t know. You had forgotten your own name! Had it been because you had slept too long? Did you even have a name in the first place? No, you did have a name. People had called upon you when praying in the past. … but now it was gone. You clenched your teeth and your fists. Tears threatened to well up in the corners of your eyes. You buried your face in the blanket. “This is all your fault…” the whisper was barely audible. “W-what?...” “You took my statue and my home and now I don’t even know my name anymore!” There they were, the tears rolling down your cheeks left and right. Your hands frantically wiped at your face while you were bawling your eyes out to your hearts content. “This isn’t fair!” You had it worse than a stray fairy, for it would at least have a home to go back to once it found it. “What am I gonna do now?” “Hey, now…” There was an arm around your shoulders. Between sobs you looked up to see a blurred version of the Zora scooting closer to comfort you. You let it happen, too weakened and too overwhelmed to reject the gesture. Too exhausted to proof your anger. “This is all a bit much right now, I know…” This is more than a bit, stupid fish… “…but we will do what is in our power to help you regain what is lost.” … “I give you my promise, as the Prince of the Zora.” …what do I care for the word of a mortal? That was what you thought, but strangely, you relaxed a little, still sobbing with the occasional hiccup. What a terrible day… …but it was also the day you learned about the first positive thing a body could give and receive: The comfort of a hug.

*******

You awoke with the first rays of the sun. Sleeping by the fire hadn’t been so bad. You had slept like a stone after a day of walking and the crying. There was already movement around the dying campfire. Link was getting ready, you noticed from your position curled up in the blanket and lying on the soft, mossy floor. You slowly sat up and looked around you. Sidon seemed to be awake too. He had rubbed your back a while longer the night before and then retreated a bit further away from the fire to escape the heat it produced. “Hey!” A finger tapped your shoulder. “Feeling better?” Link held out a roasted apple, cold but certainly still tasty. You grabbed it and smiled a little for what felt like the first time in ages. “For some reason, yes.” “Must be the morning air.” He winked. You lifted a brow at him, the question mark in your eyes big and bright. He simply lifted his face to the sky and inhaled, and then he looked back at you. You did as he did and immediately noticed what he meant. No words needed. The air that filled your lungs was pure and fresh, it felt uplifting, as if your chest swelled with new energy just from breathing in and out.

“A wonderful morning!” A few minutes later you were already licking the residue of the apple juices off your fingers when the Zora Prince joined Link and you at the ashes of the campfire. “Prayers all done?” Prayers? “Yes, we can leave now. I guess I am a little homesick after all. It shouldn’t take too long the next time.” He looked a little saddened and you almost felt bad for him. Almost. Until you remembered you statue and your temple. Not your name though… Had there been a ‘Thank you’ stuck in your throat somewhere, because he had helped you calm down yesterday, then it was pushed back down into the depths of your belly again this instant. Right next to the tasty apple. You watched him with a slightly sour expression while he took a flask filled with silver liquid from the pouch on his side. “What’s that?” You asked when he uncorked it, ready to take a sip from the potion. “Ah, this.” He stopped from raising it to his mouth to examine the flask. “This is the medicine the doctors in our domain have given me to help me in our journey. It tastes horrible and is almost too thick to swallow but it is the only thing that prevents the Zora body from taking damage from the life away from water.” He took a sip from it and shuddered, making the decorative ornaments on his body give off a metallic rustling sound in the process. “My people usually don’t venture too far off from home as without this medicine we would likely die if we didn’t find a body of water after some time. You see, we are not exactly made to life the life of a Hylian for example. This medicine had been in the works for some time already… who would have thought I’d be the one to test it, haha!” His chest swelled with pride for a moment. “ It works wonders I must say!” “So…you die if you don’t get it. Or water.” “Yes, it is important I take it at least once a day!” “I see- then please make sure you take it.” “There is no need to worry about me, my lady.” An almost invisible hue of pink graced the Zora’s cheeks. He put the flask back in the small pouch and cleared his throat.

“I am not worried.” You crossed your arms in front of yourself. “You owe me at LEAST a statue and a temple. I need you to stay alive until you make good on your promise. Last time I heard the Zoras’ sculptures and masonry is simply without parallel… ” Sidon’s mouth dropped into the roundest ‘o’ with the sharpest edges. …why… “A-and also, I don’t need more things to cry about until we reach the next temple, so make sure you keep an eye on your health.” You looked away with a bright pink blush across your face. The Zora Prince chuckled. That laugh again. “Oh, I will! Really, there is no need to be afraid of anything happening. And I stand for my word, a statue and a temple, then. It really is the least I can do.” And that smile. And worst of all- those stupidly golden eyes.

You had felt a lump in your throat and another one in your chest when he had looked at you with that shocked face. Adorable. And the smile now? Beautiful. Yesterday there was so much new to see around you- and of all the things you had found yourself staring at the Prince was the one you had stared at most. Today you’d manage to steer clear of staring at him. Probably. You hoped.

You wouldn’t see him again after you got your home back. So who cared if you stared a little?! NO! BAD! Stop staring! But there were more problems. You didn’t know how to get rid of this mortal body. Or how to remember your name. Or how to ignore those feelings.

Those stupid feelings inside you, that you were sure only mortals should have to deal with.

#sidon #prince sidon #prince sidon x reader #prince sidon/reader #sidon/reader #sidon/you #zelda #breath of the wild #fanfiction #romance #reader #loz botw #legend of zelda #legend of zelda breath of the wild #botw #loz

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rob-blog1234 · 8 years ago

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WEEKEND TV HOT FILM PICKS!

Check out my guide to the top films on TV this weekend and the best of the rest. Enjoy!

LATE FRIDAY 5th MAY

HOT PICKS!

Dave @ 2100 Kill Bill Vol 1 (2003) *****

Tarantino has pulled out all the stops with this film, a superb start to his Kill Bill Double Feature. In Volume 1 we see the amazing Uma Thurman as ‘The Bride’ who wakes up after a coma. Her unborn baby is dead and gone and she is very lucky to be alive. Here begins her story of revenge as she hunts down the team of criminals who betrayed her.

The visuals are fantastic throughout with a sensory shocking mix of styles. As expected the trademark dialogue from Tarantino is superb and the direction here has ensured this films place as a modern classic.

Drawing from a number of his personal favourites Tarantino has crafted a superb Marshal Arts Action film with an all-star cast that can be watched over and over again.

ITV4 @ 2305 The Devil's Advocate (1997) ****

Keanu Reeves is Kevin Lomax, a hot shot lawyer from a small town who has never lost a case... regardless of who the guilty party was. He is head hunted by a large and prosperous New York Law firm headed by the mysterious and charismatic John Milton played brilliantly over the top by Al Pacino. As he settles into his new home, job and this new lifestyle the cracks slowly begin to show in his relationship with his wife, Mary Ann (Charlize Theron) as she begins to lose her mind in the new, fast paced and quite peculiar new life she now leads.

It gets a lot of bad press but I love how overt and over the top this film plays out. The main reason I like this film is down to the characters. They all full of detail and wonderful quirks that paints a very rich picture throughout the film. Each of these characters are coupled with equally great actors. In fact, this is probably Keanu Reeves' most impressive roll to date. He actual shows some emotion! However it's Theron that deserves the majority of the praise as we see her character go through the biggest changes and she does it with ease showing a truly troubled character. The story is quite unusual as it’s a horror at heart with Thriller of a storyline all masquerading as a macabre court room drama. For all its sins this film always holds my complete attention. I always love an excuse to re-watch this film for Al Pacino's shouty monologues alone.

Best of the rest:

Film4 @ 2100 Bridesmaids (2011) ****

ITV1 @ 2240 American Gangster (2007) ****

W @ 2240 Goodfellas (1990) *****

Film4 @ 0120 The Evil Dead (1981) ****

Horror @ 0215 Antiviral (2012) ***

SATURDAY 6th MAY

HOT PICKS!

ITV4 @ 1310 Superman (1978) *****

The original Superman film is a classic. Everyone has seen it - it’s been a staple TV weekend and Bank Holiday film for many, many years and with all the sequels and re-imaginings, TV series, spin offs and remakes this 1979 super hero movie still remains the very best of the bunch. Even though the effects are a little old they simply add to the charm of the film. Whereas today bad CGI almost always ruins a film, in 1978 they had to rely on strength of story and this certainly has just that - it’s a consuming adventure with a lot of heart and a great vein of comedy. There’s no better way to kick off your Saturday afternoon with the iconic Superman. This is feel good film making at its very best.

BBC2 @ 2100 Nightcrawler (2014) ****

The main overwhelming thing you will take from this film is that Jake Gyllenhaal is utterly outstanding. His portrayal of Lou Bloom, a deeply obsessive sociopath whose drive and manipulative nature give rise to some of the best moments in Jake's career. Littered with dialogue so perfectly delivered you would be forgiven in believing he really is Lou Bloom. Even though this is a man with some detestable traits when he is on screen he is intoxicating.

Filmed for the most part at night on the streets of L.A. we are treated to some impressive visuals of the city. The direction is solid and as directorial debuts go this is certainly one to be proud of. The music is apt and I haven't felt the power of a city at night in such a way since Nicolas Winding Refn's Drive hit our screens.

It has a commentary and satirical pulse running through it regarding the media as we see the ruthless disregard and shifting moral stance of the local news teams, but it is Gyllenhaal that is the strong heart of this film, pumping and driving us through a character study of one of the most interesting men I have seen on film for some time. Award worthy? I certainly think so.

Film4 @ 2100 Aliens (1986) *****

This time it’s War! Aliens is one of the most successful sequels of all time. It not only continued an amazing story with one of the most impressive extra-terrestrial beings ever seen on film but also completely changed the style. Ridley Scott’s original is an amazing accomplishment and stands tall as a fantastic Horror / Sci-Fi, with this sequel James Cameron injected a dangerous dose of action and adrenalin turning it into a high powered action adventure Sci-Fi that makes this film my personal favourite of the series of films. This is mainly down to the rich characters and great performances by everyone involved. The casting and character development creates high emotional attachment which adds to great effect as they one by one encounter the almost indestructible Xenomorphs with sometimes fatal consequences. Aliens is set 57 years after the original and Ripley has been in hyper sleep all this time. We follow a crack team of Marines with Ripley in tow as adviser as they go back to LV-426 after contact is lost by the Terra-forming colony there. It has amazing special effects for its time and had to rely on physical effects as opposed to today’s CGI saturated Sci-Fi films. This is an amazing action spectacular that simply must be seen. It’s also well worth investing in the Alien Anthology on Blu ray, it’s great value for money, both the image and sound is crisp and clear and worthy of being in everyone’s collection.

Best of the rest:

Dave @ 1500 Kelly's Heroes (1970) *****

5* @ 1825 The Fifth Element (1997) *****

TCM @ 1840 Bullitt (1968) ****

C5 @ 2045 Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991) *****

ITV4 @ 2330 American Gangster (2007) ****

BBC1 @ 0010 Flatliners (1990) ***

Film4 @ 0200 American Mary (2012) ***

SUNDAY 7th MAY

HOT PICKS!

TCM @ 1245 Bullitt (1968) ****

This fantastic cop thriller has been somewhat overshadowed by its fame for the glorious car chase scene, but it really shouldn’t be, Bullitt is an intelligent, focused and realistic crime drama with well-placed action and suspense. With Steve McQueen pulling out an understated but wholly credible role as Lieutenant Frank Bullitt he lifts this already great film to higher ground. As I have filled my recent film viewing with CGI heavy spectaculars full of clunky exposition and sacrificing script for mass glitzy destruction sequences, it was an absolute pleasure to return to the films I love. Films with intelligence, perfect sound tracks, with tone and mood matched perfectly to the story they are telling, realism, impressive live action scenes with no CGI… Bullitt certainly fits the bill.

Spike @ 2100 Fury (2014) ****

There are plenty of war films with the same old formula, and this film does follow a rather formulaic approach, but here we focus solely on a U.S. Sherman tank crew. Not since the amazing Kelly’s Heroes had I seen a film focus on these tanks. A history lesson in itself for the ignorant and uneducated - the Nazi Tiger tanks they are up against completely and utterly out gun them and with armour so strong - the Sherman’s found it extremely difficult to stop them. Comparatively this film is nothing like the almost light hearted, satirically barbed Kelly’s Heroes, here we have a film attempting to capture the realism of war, the death, the squalor and the sheer inhumanity. It does this very well.

It’s dark, rich colour palette and beautifully framed cinematography certainly keep your eyes glued to the screen. The poor Sherman crews did not have much hope. We are taken deep inside the belly of “Fury” the Sherman tank with crew of 5 led by Don “Wardaddy” Collier played by Brad Pitt. Never before have I seen such oddly perfect hair styling in a war zone since Clint Eastwood’s barnet in Where Eagles Dare.

The claustrophobia of the tank is captured really well but it also somehow creates space with every odd angle when we see times where this crew felt secure in their new found home. The performances are the icing on the cake here with everyone pulling out performances to be very proud of. Not a film that will survive a re-watch mainly down to its bleakness, but never the less a film I am very pleased to have seen.

ITV4 @ 2200 Unforgiven (1992) *****

Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven is one of my favourite Westerns - It has no doubt been too long since you’ve last visited this film. Gene Hackman is Sheriff “Little Bill” who rules his town with an iron fist. He is uncompromising and heavy handed. Two strangers cut up a prostitute and, unhappy with Bills justice, the group of prostitutes put a bounty on the cowboy’s head. The bounty attracts a young gunslinger that persuades the once notorious killer - William Munny - to give up his long reformed life style to accompany him on the mission. Unforgiven is a fantastic story following Munny as he tries to become the man he once was. It’s a western with a lot of heart and shows a very gritty insight into life and death and how precious life actually is. There are no clear lines of good and bad here, everyone has their dark sides and moral stances differ across the board. This is a great Western that is so different from other films in the genre. With splendid performances from both Hackman and Eastwood, this is definitely one to watch.

Best of the rest:

C4 @ 1430 Ghostbusters II (1989) ***

Syfy @ 1830 Ladyhawke (1985) ***

C4 @ 2000 Captain America: The First Avenger (2011) ****

BBC2 @ 2200 Kajaki (2014) ****

C4 @ 2225 Prometheus (2012) ***

Horror @ 2300 The Hills Have Eyes (1977) ****

Film4 @ 2315 Magic Mike (2012) ***

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