#seriously. WHY. two fashionable cookies who commit crime

[bellhopbrunch-moved]

why are they so similar?????

[moodyinapinkbow]

Recap: A Series of Unfortunate Events — Season One, Episode One.

You guys, I finally did it, I watched episode one of the Netflix Original A Series of Unfortunate Events. Which means that I can finally bewail ‘What TOOK me so long?’ because this show is the stuff of five gold stars. 

Full recap under the cut for those who have seen episode one (or maybe just want to follow along without the commitment of sitting through fifty-odd minutes of television).

WARNING: A METRIC TON OF SPOILERS. Also a bunch of really bad and frustratingly GRAINY screenshots (to paraphrase that smarmy squire from the old Stronghold PC games, the GRA(i)NARY IS TOTALLY ON FIRE, MY LIEGES).  

The series opens with some very retro and crime drama-ey credits, which immediately strike me as being slightly better suited to, say, a BBC special on the twisted life of this week’s ‘supposed’ Jack The Ripper. But that’s OK—they please me. Why? Even though Count Olaf’s character is still synonymous with ‘terrible acting’, Neil Patrick Harris really can sing. Additionally, while I DO NOT enjoy being told what to do (I will NOT look away, Neil) my emotions ARE easily incited by visuals. I MAY or MAY NOT have just spotted A SNAKE FROM THE REPTILE ROOM so I’m SOLD. 

You know what else sets my emotions ablaze? BOOK FAITHFULNESS, which is clearly being managed much better here than it was in that movie version with Jim Carrey.   

As the story begins, we find our orphans all alone on a rickety trolley heading to the seashore. They do, in fact, have pleasant facial features. Klaus appears slightly older than he is painted in the books; Violet has the kind of enviable bangs that once convinced me to get a haircut that made me look like a little Dutch boy; and Sunny (through a series of cleverly edited shots) appears oddly sentient for a baby—a trait that readers of this series already embrace as fact. 

For those members of the viewing audience who have not read the books, Lemony Snicket (portrayed with mournful, dead-pan devotion by Patrick Warburton) is here and prepared to narrate. His onscreen figure is decidedly less shrouded in mystery than his book alter-ego (and I secretly wish the props department had supplied him with one of Don Draper’s hats) but otherwise he is velvety-voiced perfection—a man who would not startle even if he was on FIRE.    

Hey, check out the cute, cherry-red foreshadowing. COULD SOMETHING BE ON FIRE?

Yes, something is, indeed, on FIRE: it’s the Baudelaire siblings’—now orphans’—hopes for a functional adolescence. 

Bummer, dude. 

So, after a suitably depressing tour of their decimated home, the Baudelaire ORPHANS trundle off to spend the night at Mr Poe’s House of Tuberculosis. Roll the windows down, children, that cough CONCERNS me. 

At this point, the orphans quickly discover that Mr. Poe’s house is a Roald Dahl inspired hellscape. Here, his two sons (appropriately named Edgar and Allen Poe) campaign for the right to be illiterate; his wife who can’t spell reveals that she works for the Daily Punctilio (is this canon? I can’t seem to remember); and all three Gloomy Gusses Baudelaire children are forced to share an old army cot that Charlie Bucket probably used to sleep on before he shipped out to the Chocolate Factory. 

Side note: Edgar and Allen Poe? Super murdery. 

The next morning, the Baudelaires are introduced to their new guardian: it’s Murderous Debbie from The Addams Family Values masquerading in a wig. 

Just kidding. BUT YOU GUYS, can you imagine THAT plot twist??  

Anyway, Justice Strauss is lovely and conveniently plagued by a series of problems that are perfectly suited to each of the Baudelaires’ skill sets. ONLY, wait a second, this isn’t right EITHER...

THIS is where Count Olaf lives, and it looks just as quarrelsome and ridiculous as he does. 

As evidenced HERE. On a slightly off topic note, my brother and I have a running joke about OE characters (those of an Obviously Evil nature; I.E. anyone who is be-cloaked, be-wigged, standing in a belfry and or petting a cat in a sinister fashion at the time of their introduction) and this is quite literally one of the best examples I have seen in a long time.    

In addition to being totally OE, Count Olaf is KIND OF a hoarder.

And also a total fascist; before showing the orphans to their room he assigns them a long list of chores.

One bed, yet again. Seriously, was the director shooting for some kind of symbolism here: A Series of Uncomfortable Events? 

In which the Baudelaires clean up Count Olaf’s Dickensian Shithole and prepare a roast beef (or something) while Count Olaf himself cracks dubious ‘Going to the Ball’ jokes on a television show aimed at children. (True Story: I was VERY relieved by the punchline).  

Oh, look, Debbie brought the kids...a shank of roast lamb? I mean, that’s DECADENT...and definitely an odd choice for three adolescent children. I feel like some member of the cookie family might have been less likely to go remiss, but to each their own. 

Aw, man. Bummer, dude.

Snack or no snack, it’s almost time for dinner, so the Baudelaire Orphans enlist the help of Justice Strauss to collect ingredients for pasta puttanesca—which Klaus rather hilariously wishes to know the meaning of in Italian. (Fun Fact: It’s "spaghetti in the style of a prostitute", Klaus).     

Upon returning to the house, the orphans are startled by a very unnecessary song and dance number contrived to put Neil Patrick Harris’s voice to good use (it succeeds). More importantly, we finally get to meet Count Olaf’s Theatrical Troupe of villainous fiends AND we discover that his favorite type of wine is BOXED MERLOT.   

That was pretty much my reaction, too, Baudelaires. 

Undeterred, the orphans get to work. BURN IT DOWN, kiddos, BURN IT ALL DOWN. 

Meanwhile, properly sauced on a cardboard keg, Count Olaf is getting awfully antsy in the dining room. 

Thankfully, these parent-less children have been proudly serving Slut Spaghetti since exactly right now. 

But wait, HOLD UP, due to A Series of Unreasonable Expectations, Count Olaf is having none of this foreign crock. HE wants ROAST BEEF.  

And, as is often the case when boxed wine is involved, DOMESTIC ABUSE ensues. 

Captain Obvious Klaus decides that the best retribution for negligent baby-planking is a gentle sass-mouth. 

I think you can all guess where that hand is going to end up. 

OK, but seriously, do you guys SEE that ratchet-ass box of wine from the 7-11 back there? I mean, he’s got that shit PROUDLY displayed on the side board—this is VILLAINY: Level PIMP. 

Klaus is not amused.

Nor, I suspect, is the king of side-eye shade: Lemony Snicket.

But that book on Secret Societies is still hanging half-off the shelf over at Debbie’s house, so maybe the next episode will shed some light on the deceased Baudelaire parents’ double life? 

UNLESS they’re fucking ALIVE that is. PSYCHE. 

[jackwibbe]

How to fix Hollywood after Weinstein

I’ve written a thing called the Weinstein rules.

Let me know what you think.

I may need to post it in two pieces.

 THE HOLLYWOOD RULES.

We all need to learn the rules: California has laws on rape, harassment and discrimination -- zero tolerance.

This includes demanding sex for employment, even when the messaging is not overt.

Every company needs a code of conduct, and all executives need contract clauses saying they’re fired if they violate the code, or the law.

Stricter rules on auditions.

Update SAG rules on auditioning and shooting nude scenes and sex scenes; and an actress’ approval for those scenes does not mean cancelling the harassment rules.

No hotel meetings, no bikini auditions, no naked police lineups, no “massage meetings”, no casting couches, no “hey, can you drop me at my hotel?”

Apply workplace rules anywhere co-workers or potential co-workers meet: sets, trailers, hotels.

Professionalism 101: no yelling, threatening, throwing things – the kind of thing domestic abusers do.

Beef up the rules on workplace romances.

Men are allowed one form of contact with women: a handshake.  

 When women speak out, they need a reporting system that prevents retaliation.

The includes the soft blacklist of “she’s in the news too much” or “her message interferes with our marketing”.

We need women to know they can speak out and their voices are being heard, in meetings, on sets, when harassment happens.

 There are some anonymous blacklists of creepy guys, fed by anonymous sources.

This is a bit dangerous: there’s no accountability and it can easily be abused.  

However, Callisto is a new system that allows victims to not only report assaults, but to find out whether he’s done it before.

A system like that, with some accountability and due process, could revolutionize Hollywood.

 Contracts: the National Labor Relations Act says employers can’t silence employees; state courts allow firms to violate this.

Settlements: the Civil Rights Act bans settlements which prohibit employees from filing harassment charges.

Contracts and settlements should not involve private arbitration or ban public speech.

The EEOC and other agencies need money to enforce all this, and state laws need to back this up.

 Weinstein staff people are seeking permission from TWC to toss their NDAs so they can speak out.

How about ALL the studios and production companies do that?

 We need a mechanism to protect child performers from predators.

Like anywhere else you find young girls – gymnastics, fashion, pageants.

More oversight whenever kids are anywhere near alcohol.

  EVERYBODY IS RESPONSIBLE.

Studio chiefs, corporate directors, board members, producers, you own everything that happens under your corporate flag.

Everyone with control over hiring or careers needs vetting, training and oversight: don’t let abusers move laterally from company to company.

All six majors need external audits: Amazon just tried it.

Find the other Weinsteins, and executives who encourage victims to shut up and go away, and fire them all.

There are two kinds of men, those who respect women and those who don’t: have you hired any of the latter kind?

 Agents and managers: you don’t represent the producers, you represent your client.

Don’t protect the abusers when they assault your client.

If you ever give the “it would be bad for your career” speech, do us a favor and quit.

Courtney Love isn’t the only one with a scary story about CAA.

 Casting directors, you are responsible for calling out executives and directors who assault actresses and who retaliate against actresses that don’t “cooperate”.  

Guild leaders and union heads, make sexual harassment a priority.

Cops and doctors: you’re required to report signs of abuse. Why aren’t you doing it?

 Enablers, security guys, drivers, staffers, the lawyers who clean up the messes after the abuse is over.

Handing out Kleenex, checks and nondisclosure agreements.

If you help the Harveys commit or conceal their crimes, you go to jail.

Everyone is entitled to a lawyer to defend him, but a lawyer who enables a client’s crimes should be disbarred.

Somebody chat with Rick Schwarz, Weinstein’s staffer-turned-producer.

 How many people saw guys like Harvey rape women, knew he would do it again, and said nothing?

Let’s chat with the staff and security at the Ritz in Paris, the Savoy in London, the Peninsula in LA.

If everybody knows, why isn’t anyone going to the police?

 If you hear a guy making a disgusting sexist comment, and you laugh and bro along with it, you’ve given him the green light.

Say something: protecting the career of his victims, and their safety, is more important than the career of a toolbag who needs to be fired.

Believe the victims, support the victims, speak out.

 ON THE SET.

End the era of directors who are abusive toolbags.

Showing up unprepared, demanding endless takes, unsafe conditions, firing live weaponry at actors, cutting off bathroom breaks, confiscating phones, harassing women.

In any other work environment, there would be strikes and lawsuits.

A lot of the abuse has been directed at women: just ask Katharine Ross what it was like shooting Butch Cassidy, or any actress who came within a mile of Hitchcock.  

A director can be the boss and keep to the schedule without being an abusive jerk.

Also, directors: are you hiring department heads who are abusive jerks?

If you’re the director, you’re responsible for everything anyone does on that set.

 Everybody on set, cast and crew: are you aiding and abetting crimes by executives and directors?

Did you see something and ignore it?

Any big-name actors with your hands in the cookie jar?

We need a process to stop on-set harassment: directors, DPs and actors with patty-fingers.

And a female crew member minimizing her gender with a big coat and a hat: she’s seen something and knows something.

 Female surgeons keep more patients alive because they follow the rules and listen to others: in other words, respect.

What if we had female directors showing us what female leadership looks like?

 BUILDING A NEW HOLLYWOOD.  

We need women running corporations with enough cash and leeway to launch projects.

Chairmen, CEOs, board members, producers.

More women, and more oversight, at the big and small studios, production companies.

Same for television, cable and online producers; likewise guilds and agencies.

When a company has at least one-third women in the power suite, change happens, so make it happen.

Raising a generation of female leaders will take time and commitment, so start now.

We need women mentoring other women.

 We need all six major studios to draft policies to protect and empower women.

HR departments must protect victims, not the companies.

More jobs for actresses: enough male-oriented action franchises – women drive the domestic box office.

Fire any director or producer who measures a woman’s worth by whether she’s “f***able”.

We need women working on set, particularly as department heads; female DPs can show us what the world looks like through a woman’s eyes.

Also, non-sexual abuse is an everyday occurrence for junior employees of both sexes: stop it!

And EQUAL PAY.

 Above all, women who call out abusers: hire them!

That is the best way to stop the abuse.

If abusers can’t threaten the careers of their victims, their victims go to the cops.

 VICTIMS.

Like it or not, the victims are the necessary first stage in the process.

Dorothy Carvello, a longtime staffer in the entertainment industry, said “we must come forward and name our abusers”.

Claudia Eller at Variety said the same: “Victims can no longer stay quiet; if you’re not part of the solution, then you’re part of the problem.”

 Know the rules for harassment and retaliation.

Sexual harassment in California: don’t touch the girl, don’t look at her strike zone, don’t say anything sexual, no sexy pictures, don’t try to wrangle her into sex or retaliate against her.

Sexual discrimination: treating a woman or a group of women differently, hostile work environment, harassment, intimidation, using job pressure to get sex.

Sexual assault: don’t touch the girl’s strike zone; don’t force her to touch your junk or hers, or touch her when she’s intoxicated or unconscious, or use threats.

In California the statute of limitations is a year for harassment and ten years for rape, although they’re changing it; the rules are better in places like New York and London.

 If you’re harassed, tell him to stop; write down what happened, tell the firm and HR, get a lawyer.

If you want to sue, you must go to the DFEH or EEOC within a year: it’s actually called a “right to sue” letter. Seriously.

 Also for the victims: if you have nightmares, flashbacks, triggered panic attacks, that’s PTSD.

It isn’t just for soldiers: I’ve seen hundreds of cases in my work with survivors of domestic violence.

Talk to a good therapist about cognitive behavioral therapy.

And build yourself a support system: this is when you find out who your real friends are.