#that no film adaption has ever had queer subtext

[glompcat]

Do you ever see a post that is so next level infuriating it cancels itself out because the op so clearly doesn't know what they are talking about it becomes hilarious, actually?

[madhogthymaster]

Master Recs: Horror Cinema!

Do you like Horror films? Yes, you do. Here is a modest selection of 13 cinematic offerings to quench your thirst for seasonal spooks, from lesser-known gems to entertaining schlock and everything in-between. I have good taste and you are welcome.

Renfield (2023), dir. Chris McKay

Renfield rules so hard it hurts, let me tell you. Nicolas Cage as Dracula is already the best selling point imaginable but if you look past the premise, you'll find a heartwarming story about overcoming abuse and codependency, with loads of great action and gore to boot. Good old Nic hams it up to eleven as the Prince of Darkness, channeling the verve of Bela Lugosi, Christopher Lee and Lon Cheney all rolled into a deliciously evil sandwich. He's legitimately monstrous and intimidating in a way the character has not been in decades.

It's very effective when he's presented as the abusive "partner" from which Renfield (as in, classic Movie Renfield) is trying to escape. I'm surprised by the lengths the film goes into depicting the emotional trappings of such a relationship - amidst all the funny jokes, that is. It pulls off the unenviable task of being a tonally cohesive Horror comedy, one that leaves no room for doubt as to which moments deserve to be treated seriously or not. Its homage to Golden Age Hollywood cinema and unapologetic queerness are also appreciated.

The House (2022), dir. Emma De Swaef, Niki Lindroth von Bahr, Paloma Baeza, Marc James Roels

The House is a stunning work of stop-motion animation and a solid anthology that explores the existential hang-ups and anxieties of the "Middle Class", crafting solid Horror (and not-so Horror) stories in the process. It has dancing bugs too! I recommend it.

Cocaine Bear (2023), dir. Elizabeth Banks

The last film appearance by the late Ray Liotta. Cocaine Bear is a gruesomely delightful time: a spunky schlock with a killer premise that hooks you up from the start, taking a self-indulgent, humorous sniff at its own status of being "Based on a True Story." This film had the audacity to feature a Wikipedia quote. It's great!

Sweet Home (1989), dir. Kiyoshi Kurosawa

Delightedly, I beheld 1989's Sweet Home, as expertly remastered by Kineko Video. It's a cheesy good time with glorious practical effects and a few, effective low-budget trickeries. I personally give it props for an unexpected Laurel & Hardy's Fra Diavolo reference! This classic is mostly renowned for its videogame adaptation which became a major influence for decades to come.

At the time of writing, the film can be watched on YouTube, making it the most easily accessible entry in this entire column.

Jennifer's Body (2009), dir. Karyn Kusama

It took me this long to finally watch Jennifer's Body, an underrated Horror comedy starring Megan Fox that was unjustly dismissed back in the day. She plays as a literal man-eater, by the way.

There is definitely a lot to enjoy from a modern take on Carmilla whereas the delectably gory blood-feasting works as a backdrop for a toxic high school friendship as well as a commentary on the consequences of sexist exploitation, misogyny and trauma. Save for the occasional slur, it holds up very well.

The Color Out of Space (2019), dir. Richard Stanley

A proper skin-crawler based off the eponymous story by H.P. Lovecraft. Its psychedelic and Stuart Gordon-esque visceral interpretation of the source material is a clever way to circumvent the issue of portraying an "indescribable" alien entity. The Colour, being an unfathomable force outside our science and rationale, serves as a reminder of how insignificant we are in the face of a larger universe we can never hope to comprehend. It works as a metaphor for our atavistic fears.

The film is very much about powerlessness, losing control, losing oneself to the madness or, alternatively, to the realization that nothing was ever "under control." It's Cosmic Horror done right - and also without the racist subtext. Oh, and Nicolas Cage is also in it. I might have buried the lead there.

Gretel and Hansel (2020), dir. Oz Perkins

Here's a scary fairy tale that might have escaped everyone's radar, Gretel and Hansel: a beautifully crafted, meticulously composed film that drenches itself in a disquieting, surreal atmosphere subtly empowered by an alienating soundtrack. It's gripping, to say the least.

The Ritual (2017), dir. David Bruckner

Reviewing and discussing Horror cinema is hard as the truly notable films are best experienced without the burden of knowledge: the viewer should be blindsided by the unknowable terror as much as the characters. That is to say, I can't openly talk about why The Ritual (2017) is great. You should watch it for yourself and get absolutely smack-jawed by the experience.

Society: The Horror (1989), dir. Brian Yuzna

This is unpleasant on an existential level and that, in turn, makes it a really effective Horror. It builds itself as a Kafkian nightmare about the dread of Conformism, feeling out of place in a Society ruled by the white and wealthy, a classic Suburban nightmare scenario. It morphs into an indictment of Capitalism and Classism when the grotesque and revolting third act slimes its way into balls-to-the-wall satire. Bill Warlock (Eddie from Baywatch) puts on the performance of a lifetime as the justifiably paranoid teen protagonist. Shout out to the credited "surreal make-up artist", a man named Screaming Mad George. He did too much of a good job, let me tell you. Needless to say, I recommend this perturbing visual madness with all the content warnings imaginable.

Society waits for you.

Overlord (2018), dir. Julius Avery

I watched Overlord and you should too! It begins as a slickly directed World War II drama before it organically develops into a spectacularly gruesome, intense Action Horror punctuated by a Chef's Kiss of a climax. It gets a special recommendation for the cathartic abuse of nazies! This is the Wolfenstein adaptation you have always wanted.

Willy's Wonderland (2021), dir. Kevin Lewis

Since you can never have enough of Nicolas Cage, here's Willy's Wonderland: a self-aware, genre-flipping, D-grade schlock with the presence of our favourite actor silently and menacingly staring at things - which he does, in spades. The fact that he kills off a bunch of Not-FNAF animatronics is just the icing on the cake! Let me be clear: he does not speak a single word throughout the flick. He's effectively playing "Silent Videogame Protagonist" and his sheer magnetism carries this diegesis to the finish line. A lesser actor would have not been able to pull this off. In all seriousness, Willy's Wonderland works squarely because The Cage was onboard with it. The direction is otherwise unremarkable, the production is even cheaper that one might expect and the rest of the cast is mere fodder. The Cage was its only ace and it played the right hand! That's a whole lot more entertainment value than a film seemingly designed to anger Freddy Fazbear's gooners would realistically deserve. You should watch it if you really want to see Nicolas Cage make sweet love to a pinball machine. Apropos of nothing, did you know that pretentious hack/real life human piss stain Scott Cawthon is a top Republican donor and a pro-lifer? I thought that would be cool information to remember.

The Endless (2017), dir. Justin Benson e Aaron Moorhead

Here's another cosmically disconcerting recommendation for the Lovecraft crowd in the back: if you're looking for a uniquely scary film that deals with the Fear of the Unknown, drowns itself in breath-taking atmosphere and exquisite Uncertainty, I recommend you to watch The Endless. It might knock your existential socks off!

Calamity of a Zombie Girl (2018), dir. Hideaki Iwami

I have kept the "best" for last! Calamity of a Zombie Girl is the weirdest Slasher I have ever seen, mostly due to its inability to keep track of its own genre. It's a B-movie with guts, blood and nudity, a supernatural lesbian romance, a martial arts film and a screwy, goofy comedy all rolled into one cheap-looking animated feature.

The editing is atrocious, constantly abusing the fade-to-black transition without rhyme or reason, the dialogues are inane and contrived, the animation is abysmal (it's a low-budget production by Gonzo, you see) and tonal consistency is downright mythical. In spite of all that, or because of it, the aforementioned bizarre nature of its premise and execution makes it incredibly fun (and funny) to behold, especially when genres collide with each other in relentless, brutal fashion. From the victims' point-of-view (the especially idiotic and ultimately useless extras, I should say) this film plays out like a traditional Slasher flick but from the perspective of the killer, the re-animated zombie girl herself, this is her own action packed Ecchi comedy.

Her first kill occurs as a goof on her part: she shoves a man off like a "dainty dame" and accidentally cracks his skull wide open on a column. Soon after, she rips a guy's arm because he was getting "too friendly" with her and scolds him for his inappropriate behaviour. She then proceeds to have a fight scene with one of the expendable extras because her opponent just happened to be a self-taught Kung Fu master. Also, her undead maid (because of course there's an undead maid) gets kidnapped and she must rescue her! This string of barely held-together nonsense leads to a spectacularly convoluted third act that somehow involves an old abandoned church, a school gym, a game of Anime Sports Ball and a literal Saved by the Bell moment. Did I mention this is all supposed to take place in a non-specific university campus in Japan? Because otherwise you might think the film is happening in two completely different continents! Aside from the immensely idiotic fading transitions, Calamity of a Zombie Girl is hilarious and enjoyable. It's pure, untainted, excellently awful schlock carried to the finish line by the sheer strength of its befuddling ideas. Watch it and tell your friends about it!

Merry Spookmas, you little freaks! --- Follow Madhog on:

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Also, here’s a helpful website: https://arab.org/

[noneorother]

Spoiler alert; the Maltese Falcon is literally a (secretly) gay icon.

So here’s the thing. I’m usually not one for talking about head canons. There’s no way we’ll ever really know why Crowley has the Maltese Falcon alongside his other two “winged statues” (wink wink, nudge nudge) in his flat. But in my little art director heart I really feel like some context could help people think about the historical implications of what the Maltese Falcon might represent for Crowley, and how life often imitates art.

So how is this mysterious black bird (ahem) a symbol of coded queerness in film?

The Maltese Falcon, written & directed by John Huston and released in 1941 (ahem), is an adaptation of Hammett's 1930 novel, which features not one, but three openly gay villains in San Francisco. If you want to adapt this novel in 1940's Hollywood, you had to deal with the Hay's Code,

...A set of moral censorship guidelines for the American filmmaking industry, and was effective in place until 1968. There are several reprehensible facets to the Code, but the one most relevant here is Section 2 – titled simply “Sex” – Item 4: “Sex Perversion, or any inference to it, is forbidden.” While this does not explicitly forbid filmmakers from the use of homosexual characters in a narrative, the implication is transparent enough. Any positive gay representation was clearly made impossible.

Screenflipped (How Subtext Saved (and Damned) Homosexuality on Screen)

The Hays code effectively sublimated all the gay representation in the novel into subtle coded references (sound familiar?) that could be defended if taken out of context, but taken as a whole paint a very erotic gay picture:

Cairo’s calling cards and handkerchiefs are scented with gardenias.  He also fusses about his clothes and becomes upset when blood from a scratch ruins his shirt.  And if you look carefully, he makes subtle fellating gestures with his cane during his interview with Sam Spade (Bogart)...Some gay critics have also focused on the falcon as a phallic signifier; the way it is treated and touched by various characters.

Emanuel Levy

What's amazing about this is that, despite how coded the references have to be, and how negative the portrayal might be, this is probably "the first example of an explicitly gay-coded villain in American film." Think about it. Crowley loves movies, and in 1941, when the whole world was burning, and the object of his desire is so close for the first time in decades, and yet still so impossibly far away, he could go to a movie theatre and watch gay characters lust after an equally unobtainable Maltese falcon on the silver screen. Who wanted (like him), and were sexual and dark (like him). Who had to sneak around, and make innuendos and use coded signalling and double speak, just to exist.

And even though the hero of The Maltese Flacon finds a perfect straight-laced, alpha male rogue in Humphrey Bogart, "it's undeniable that Bogie was a gay ally -- or as allied as you could get in that era.  He frequented gay bars and had close friendships with gay men throughout his life, including Charles Farrell, Spencer Tracey, William Haines, Noel Coward, and even a young Truman Capote (who beat him at arm wrestling)." And just one year later, arguably in his most famous film role, Bogart played another hero in the (also subtly queer coded) film Casablanca, alongside noted bisexual actor Conrad Veidt in his last ever film role before his death.

Veidt played the hero int the first positive gay romance ever featured on film, Different from the Others (1919). It was a SILENT FILM, that's how early it was. Why do I mention Casablanca and Veidt? Take a look at the posters on the wall in the backstage room after the bullet catch in season 2...

Queer history is, albeit quietly, woven into the very fabric of Good Omens. You can't hear it over the noise of the traffic, but it's there.

Why does Crowley have the Maltese Falcon?

My head cannon is that the 1941 Church/Magic Show/Zombie evening (date??) ended badly and Crowley did a geographic to Hollywood where he worked on the film (it would have been in production in 1941) and kept a souvenir.

[kingbuffy]

I think the main reason I dislike Dracula/Mina being the accepted romance in many Dracula and just plain vampire media is because there's just no backup for it. Like it's so forced. You're telling me that you read Dracula right? And the possible pairing you got out of it was Dracula/Mina??? I mostly blame a century's worth of film adaptations for this.

You can get some mileage out of Dracula/Lucy at least, I think there's a lot of unsaid potential in how Lucy possibly felt; given that I believe she's the perfect parallel to Dracula, and what does it mean that he's turned the good version of himself into a monster? Hatred for the innocent person he never was? Or resentment for what he could’ve been? This is mostly speculation since the og text doesn't go into that kind of direction, but look at what I got just at the idea of them. Dracula/Mina have no depth, no layers and no hints at what they could be going forward had they actually gotten together.

And don't get me started on how much more Dracula/Jonathan have. The beginning of Dracula, with Jonathan's pov trapped the Count's castle, is the best part of the book in my opinion. It's the scariest and most tense section, and is where the queer subtext is at its most hefty. While I won't outwardly state Bram Stoker's sexuality, since there's really no way to know for certainty where his arrow pointed, there's good evidence that he wasn’t straight, and was in great agony about that. I think his internalized homophobia is what gave us that first part of Dracula. And I truly think that Dracula/Jonathan's relationship is both psychosexual and heartbreaking. There's just soo much you can do with the text given. Unlike Dracula/Mina, there's a story here. The struggles that Jonathan went through during his stay were so raw and emotional, him wrestling with both fearing and lusting for Dracula. Jonathan developed a friendship with Dracula on top of that, a friendship that was ultimately betrayed by the monster he was simultaneously repulsed and drawn to. This all culminates in my favorite line in the book (and maybe ever?): "I doubt; I fear; I think strange things which I dare not confess to my own soul."

I mean that line is just so real??? So obvious but so layered?? I'm surprised the British censors didn't burst in nightsticks a-blazin ala Picture of Dorian Gray style.

Jonathan could never understand his feelings around Dracula, he could only cry out against the allure that should be tucked away and hidden if it continues to dare to exist. Jonathan's stay in Count Dracula's castle is the rawest expression of doubt and horror at something society has told him is just as disturbing as a bloodsucking monster. Bram Stoker really showed his hand there. Jonathan discovered something about himself that he didn't understand, and lost a friend in the process. I truly think Dracula/Jonathan should be more recognized because all the pieces are there. But much like Bram Stoker's own take on queerness, movies and adaptations could never show a queer relationship to the people, that would be too much for a vampire film. So instead a constant stream of Dracula adaptations push a romance with the next best option, the man's wife. Despite the fact that there were no interesting ideas or consequences, like Dracula/Lucy, nor any of the sexual or even romantic tension, like Dracula/Jonathan.

Not to mention that Dracula doesn't really have a romance with anyone in the og book, but I get it, romance brings in the people. It's just really annoying that Mina has to be forced into something that just doesn't fit her at all. The fact that it's just widley accepted that the great vampiric romance is Dracula/Mina. Vampires have always been wrapped up in grey morality, queerness, and sex; human monsters. Their appeal is the release of society's barriers, to truly become the monster that everyone said we already were. Dracula/Mina have none of that.

[365daysoflesbians]

MARCH 30: Nella Larsen (1891-1964)

On this day in 1964, famed author Nella Larsen passed away in her home in Brooklyn. Her most famous novel, Passing (1929), is often considered an early work of lesbian fiction. 

Nella Larsen photographed by her friend and patron of the Harlem Renaissance, Carl Van Vechten, on November 23, 1934. 

On April 13, Nellie Walker was born in a poor area of Chicago known as the Levee. Her mother was a white immigrant from Denmark and her father was an Afro-Caribbean immigrant hailing from the Danish West Indies, though he died not long after her birth. Her mother, Pederline, soon remarried a fellow white Danish immigrant. Nellie Walker then became Nella Larsen, adopting her stepfather’s surname. The couple had a second daughter and moved to a predominantly white immigrant neighborhood and often encountered discrimination from their neighbors due to Nella’s skin color. As the only black member of her family, critic Darryl Pinckney writes,

“[Larsen] had no entrée into the world of the blues or of the black church. If she could never be white like her mother and sister, neither could she ever be black in quite the same way that Langston Hughes and his characters were black. Hers was a netherworld, unrecognizable historically and too painful to dredge up.”

Nella began her adult life as a nurse, enrolling in school at the Lincoln Hospital in the South Bronx. She began by treating elderly black patients at the Lincoln Nursing Home and then later cared for white patients inflicted by the Spanish flu. In 1915, she relocated to the Tuskegee Institute in Alabama and eventually became the head nurse. After a few years, however, she became disillusioned with the poor working conditions for nurses and left the profession. 

In her second act, Nella became the first black woman to graduate from the NYPL Library School. Stationed as a librarian in Harlem at the onset of the 1920s, she arrived at just the right time to witness the birth of the Harlem Renaissance. She began her writing career in 1925 and became friends with many key figures in the arts community, including photographer Carl Van Vechten. Throughout her life, Nella would publish two novels and one short story: the autobiographical Quicksand (1928), Passing (1929), and “Sanctuary” (1930). 

While Nella never had any known relationships with women, her 1929 novel Passing has become a tenet of the lesbian literary canon. Set in Harlem, the novel focuses on the relationship between two childhood friends, Clare and Irene. After losing touch in adulthood, the two are later reunited in a chance encounter only for Irene to discover that Clare has been “passing” as white amongst her wealthy husband’s social circle. 

When discussing Passing, scholars often focus on the novel’s homoerotic subtext. Upon their first reunion, Irene is struck by Clare’s beauty and is “drawn to Clare like a moth to a flame.” Throughout the novel, Irene becomes increasingly obsessed with Clare and imagines her to be having an affair with her husband Brian, who himself is coded as queer. 

Literary critic Deborah McDowell argues that Irene’s jealousy and delusion is a product of her own “awakening of ... erotic feelings for Clare” and that Passing was an opportunity for Nella to "flirt, if only by suggestion, with the idea of a lesbian relationship.” Overall, many believe that that novel’s central metaphor of “passing” pulls double duty in relation to sexuality as well as race. 

A film adaptation of Passing starring Ruth Negga and Tessa Thompson premiered at Sundance in January 2021 and will be released by Netflix later in the year. 

[loudest-subtext-in-tv]

Something I know no one will ever contend with when they just want to write a hit piece about us, but...

When Moffat said on the A Scandal in Belgravia commentary, “If you watch the show carefully, there’s subtext about John’s drinking,” what did he mean? He wasn’t being flippant, he’s said one of his favorite writers is William Goldman and writers should study him because he “knows everything.” Goldman’s Ten Commandments on Writing say to “put a subtext under every text” and not to be too on the nose. 

So what is the “real” subtext to why John drinks, and why does John drink when he’s alone with Sherlock and trying to get him to open up, or otherwise thinking about Sherlock? If the subtext is not about John’s relationship with Sherlock, then like... who else is in the room in those scenes, what’s going on, who is John actually thinking about, and why is it so important to the story that Moffat would include it? What storyline does the subtext of John’s drinking pertain to? It must be pretty big to not have been revealed yet, so it shouldn’t be hard to make a case for.

Similarly: When Moffat and Gatiss say that The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes, a movie noteworthy for depicting Holmes as a homosexual in love with Watson, is the inspiration for their adaptation, what do people imagine they adapted from it? Because it wasn’t the characterization, they don’t much resemble the BBC Sherlock characterizations. Barely any plot points were borrowed, and minor ones at that. Why did they pick the big overtly gay adaptation for the basis of their show from a hundred straight alternatives? Why did Gatiss say the thing he liked about it was that Holmes was in love with Watson?

I mean, I know people who hate us will never actually watch it, but the movie is not subtle. The movie isn’t a bunch of gay gags, the movie makes very clear that Holmes is genuinely homosexual and in love with Watson in a deeply painful way that queer people can recognize and relate to, and the same vibe is heavy in series 3 especially. For example, the endings of TSoT and HLV are not gay gags, they are things that happened in the plot and were not presented as remotely funny.

There are two reasonable perspectives on this:

1) It is not especially weird for people who pay attention to what the writers have said about their stories to think all the gay stuff is intentional, and its not weird to have fun chasing down things the writers have taken care to talk about. That’s what fans do, they try to predict where stories are going. No one made hit pieces ridiculing Jon and Daeneyrs shippers because they recognized what the foreshadowing in Game of Thrones was saying, and they were basing it off almost nothing compared to what the showrunners of Sherlock have said and taken care to include in the plot and subtext. People write hit pieces about us because they deeply believe it’s stupid for queer people to think a gay romance could be depicted, we had the misfortune of having a sense of humor about ourselves (calling it a “conspiracy” and ourselves a “cult”), and were enthusiastic about the show and writers whose fandom we’re a part of.

2) The gay stuff is intentional, but all a big joke despite appearances to the contrary. Most of the antis even argued that the gay stuff was intentional, they just thought it was to fuck with people or be provocative. Some of them were even dreading S4, including while it was airing, because they thought we were going to be proven right and we’d be insufferable. If people who hated us worried we could be right, then how delusional could we be?

I can understand someone thinking it all being a big joke is more likely than a TV show depicting a gay romance, but it does not follow that people deserve to be an object of public ridicule because they recognized a bunch of queer allusions and painful queer life experiences that resonated with them and considered that the writers, one of whom is queer and unabashedly obsessed with the works in question, may have positive motives for including those things. It feels like punishing people for doing their due diligence of actually researching the writers’ feelings about things and their influences, rather than just piling on and calling them homophobes. I’m not trying to invalidate anyone’s opinions if that’s how they feel about Moffat and Gatiss nowadays, I’m just saying it’s not some shameful thing for people to actually investigate these things and conclude differently. It’s okay to think writers are talented and clever, and their fandom should be a place where it’s okay to explore that.

What makes me most sad about this is that there is genuinely no area of life where people can just play around anymore without being hunted down. Like, politics is fucking miserable, the pandemic is miserable, I just had a friend kill himself a few months ago because of how bad life is lately, a close relative who I never thought would have suicidal ideation has it now, I have been fighting wanting to die for years, in the U.S. none of us have any idea if we’re ever getting any sort of pandemic stimulus again -- so many of us are suffering immensely right now, it should be okay to be goofy and creative in a fandom without someone deciding its their prerogative to profit off us because they think we’re weird, or whatever. 

The reason there’s a lot of crazy meta analysis is because this was supposed to be a relatively safe, creative place where people can try their hand at analyzing stories without being graded or made to feel inadequate, so we treat metas a lot like fanfics where it’s not really appropriate to just rip people’s shit apart no matter how illogical it is, and we find things we like about analysis we don’t agree with in that same spirit: it’s a cool idea anyway, it’s artistically inspiring, it got close to a more compelling idea, etc. I have a big packet of fan mails where several people told me they had been scared and self-conscious to share their thoughts on things, and TJLC helped them open up and inspired them to major in literary or film-related majors. People start somewhere and it’s cruel to make fun of them because they weren’t great at something that doesn’t fucking matter. 

FANDOM IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE A SUPER SERIOUS SPACE. NO ONE PUTS ON A TUXEDO BEFORE THEY LOG IN TO TUMBLR. NO ONE NEEDS SOME OUTSIDER TAKING THE THINGS THEY OFFERED IN THE SPIRIT OF FUN OUT OF CONTEXT TO PRESENT TO A WIDER AUDIENCE THEY DELIBERATELY AVOID BECAUSE THAT AUDIENCE IS MEAN AND SENDS THEM DEATH THREATS AND HOMOPHOBIC AND MISOGYNISTIC SLURS AND SUICIDE ADVICE. IT IS ACTUALLY NOT AN ENORMOUS CHARACTER FAILING TO SHARE BAD ANALYSES OF A TV SHOW, AND SHOULD NOT BE A MATTER OF NATIONAL INTEREST. 

But places where people can open up and try things out increasingly can’t exist anymore, because even in a low stakes environment like a fandom there are busybody ghouls who want to profit off being condescending about how people spend their leisure time. It doesn’t add anything to the world except their bank accounts.

[dinitride-art]

This reminds me about the difference between queer representation in film and other forms of media. Like, recently When you Finish Saving the World came out and while I didn’t see it myself, I did see that people were saying Ziggy had an ex-boyfriend in the book that I don’t know whether or not it was mentioned in the film adaptation. I wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t. I’m thinking of how Simon vs. The Homosapiens Agenda was adapted in to Love, Simon, too. Leah’s characterization is very different in the movie than what it was in the book. It was changed to be less complex and more consumable to heteronormative audiences. Her character motivations shifted from being Simon’s best friend who was hurt that he didn’t come out to her before Abby, to her reaction to Simon being outed as a result of homophobia. Haven’t seen of read it in a hot minute but the point I’m trying to make here is that there is a lot of queer representation in media, it’s just boxed away where the average cis het person can’t find it. So, when we’re represented in places that aren’t strictly in that box (or outside of it, basically anywhere that counts as popular media) everything gets watered down.

Netflix is an important factor to consider in how Stranger Things is allowed to portray its queer characters. I don’t think that they would’ve let season four go any further than it did with queer representation because of a potential loss of viewership. It’s very probable that the Duffers have had to fight with Netflix about what they’re allowed to say and show in their story. Robin is the only explicitly queer character in Stranger Things. Every other character is up to interpretation. People can deny Will being gay, can deny Vickie being bi, because their identities aren’t stated or shown in a way that makes them undeniable to the audience. Will is heavily implied to have romantic feelings about Mike but no one ever says it. Not in the same way that Robin told Steve that she had a crush on a girl when they were high in season three. Vickie is the same. It’s implied that she might have feelings for Robin but never stated. Subtext is the main way that Stranger Things presents its queer characters. But I don’t think that it’s going to stay that way.

The subtext isn’t simple. It’s almost overwhelming complex and is telling an entire story that most people aren’t able to pick up on. The California/Road-trip plot-line in season four is probably the most extreme example of this. I think that the reason that Will is glowing whenever Mike looks at him, and why there’s a hidden confession behind a painting, and references to the rain fight in season three, and an entire plot-line dedicated to Mike and Will’s relationship development is because they weren’t allowed to explicitly tell the audience what was happening with them in season four. But they’re still telling the story they want to tell, just in a different way. I don’t think anyone puts that much effort into something for a plot twist. I think it might be because someone told them no. Robin and Vickie are already pushing what is generally allowed in popular media. They’re two queer characters with very human experiences. That people can relate to whether or not they’re queer themselves. Vickie isn’t as well developed as Robin, but Robin- even though she’s often used as comic relief- is a complex character. She’s a queer character with a potential romantic plot-line and has important relationships with other characters. She’s also heavily implied to be neurodivergent. And she’s not dead.

Stranger Things isn’t perceived as a queer story. It’s at a point where it has complex queer characters but not to the point where it’s been labeled as queer media. If Mike and Will were both explicitly shown to be queer in season four, that would have pushed Stranger Things over the edge. Mike, Will and El are three of the most important characters in Stranger Things. That’s why they had two out of the four plot lines in season four. If Mike and El’s romantic relationship ended, Stranger Things would potentially have more people thinking about whether or not Mike and Will are an actual option, and whether or not Stranger Things is made for a heteronormative audience. This has already started to happen even with Mike and El’s ending the season with the future of their relationship being ambiguous. Even though Robin has a romantic subplot, and Vickie has been introduced, and Will is heavily implied to have romantic feelings for Miek, Stranger Things has not yet been labeled as queer media. I think that has more to do with Netflix than the Duffer brothers.

Queer people aren’t found in film or popular media a whole lot. And more often than not people have to push to be able to have queer characters and representation and relevance to the story. It’s also not uncommon for queer stories to be hidden behind an allegory or in subtext. The story that Stranger Things wants to tell is a queer story, which automatically makes Stranger Things queer media. Being labeled as queer media shoves it away into a hidden box away from anyone who doesn’t want to see it. But, at this point, Stranger Things has become too popular to be shoved into the dark. From the way that everything has been handled with Mike and Will, and Robin and Vickie, it’s clear that they’re trying to tell a queer story. The effort put into Mike and Will in every season shows that while this story is currently still subtextual, it’s something they want to explore and something that they’re not allowed to fully show, but they want to. I remember thinking, who would put this much effort into lighting Will like this? Why would anyone spend this much time on subtext that most people would never notice? And now, I think it’s possible, that they’re trying to tell this story in whatever way they can. And while its still not enough, I don’t think it’s by choice. But I also think that they’re going to tell this story no matter what.

we have 3 queer characters that haven't even kissed anyone of the same gender but the show is full of straight ships that have whole scenes of them making out and holding hands and like I know we will get explicit queerness in s5 but it still feels like I can't expect too much and like I shouldn't hope to have Elmax or Elumax too even if it has semi-romantic subtext in the show but I should be glad if I get the ones we already have even if we will have one season against 4 of straight people being straight and like I just think it's fucked up that I feel like this and I feel like that if the show is not made explicitly queer from the beginning then we should be happy if we get even one queer character... plus all the other queer shows are getting canceled or end up killing one in the couple or they have depressing storylines... it's so fucked up

[trixree]

Feminist, Queer, Playboy, Philanthropist: Why Ironman Belongs to the Shes, Gays, and Theys

Introduction:

This material originally comes from a media critique project I did for an undergrad philosophy course and I've attempted to adapt it into a tumblr post that doesn't make your eyes bleed. I may or may not have been successful. Upfront, I'm giving you a trigger warning for discussion of sexual assault/rape. If you'd like to skip that part of the analysis, mind the red content warning [start/end].

Trix, what are you up to today? Well, I’d like to present an alternative narrative interpretation of the capstone of the MCU. At face value, Tony Stark shows us a wise-cracking, suave, and hyper-masculine superhero. His soundtrack is AC/DC and he arrives on the battlefield in a shower of gold sparks and hydraulics, wearing sunglasses that cost more than my uterus would fetch on the black market. However, this character presents us with so much more than just a hyper-masculine caricature of straight, cis heroism. Not only does he embody typically “feminine” film tropes—such as the hypersexualized “fighting-fucktoy” role, the policing of his body and promiscuity, and the climactic “rape scene” in which his predatory father-figure drugs him and steals his “heart”—additionally, he embodies classically queer film tropes. Unlike most male action-movie protagonists, his story line is an identity crisis at heart, culminating in a climactic “coming out” scene. His character is promiscuous and spurned for it, and camp is a constant underlying theme in his character design as a whole. I explore these themes in two main parts: the femme and the queer. We'll start with the femme.

Hyper-Masculinity & Tony Stark

In order to understand the subversive nature of Tony Stark, we must first establish the typical nature of hyper-masculine and the hyper-feminine character tropes. Before we can ask the question, “how is this character coded as femme?'' We must first ask, “how is this character coded as masc?”. Further, what do these tropes tell the audience about those characters? Ultimately, the hypermasculine caricature lends power to the subject while the hyperfeminine caricature strips the subject of all agency.

Hypermasculinity is defined, generally, as the exaggerated portrayal or the reinforcement of “typically male stereotypes” (typical male meaning, in this context, that of a Westernized man) such as aggression, strength and power (both physcial and otherwise), as well as sex appeal, and integrity. Hypermasculinity takes a keen focus on the physical male form as a dominating force (1). A hypermasculine character, then, would be one that portrays a domineering, powerful man that is above his peers in some way, and is sexually desirable, in that he exemplifies a pornified picture of a male physique. This desirable and desiring caricature of manhood “socializes boys to believe that being a man means being powerful and in control” (2).

In contrast to this idea of hypermasculinity is the media’s typical portrayal of women. The typical hyperfeminine characterization of women in media is that of a passive, pretty, and overtly sexualized side-character with little agency or autonomy within the story. This is true of both blockbuster hits starring men and movies starring women, too. “We had many more interesting characters on screen in the '20s, '30s, '40s than we do now… They could be the femme fatale and then turn around and be the mother and then turn around and be the seductress, and then turn around and be the saint, and we accepted that. They were complex human beings” (2). This is no longer the case for a typical role for women on screen.

The documentary Miss Representation (2) presents a common caricature that a woman in Hollywood might find herself portraying. Action movies with a female lead surely must exhibit agency in their own story lines. However, the female-action-movie-lead is dubbed the “fighting fucktoy” by Miss Representation. Although she makes her own decisions and it is her narrative that drives the story, she primarily exists as eye-candy. Thus, even the “fighting fucktoy” is just that to audiences--a “fucktoy”. She may be “strong” but primarily, she must be pretty. The MCU character Black Widow perfectly exemplifies the “fighting fucktoy”. Her physical strength may be unquestioned, but primarily it is her beauty that is the focus on-screen. Never do we see her fighting in a t-shirt and sweatpants. Even outside of the skin-tight deep-vee catsuit, Black Widow’s plain clothes outfits consist of tight jeans and even tighter shirts.

This is true for both hyperfeminine and hypermasculine stories. Both the men and women starring in mainstream productions are expected to exemplify a western ideal of peak beauty standards at all times. However, where the hypersexualization of male’s bodies is associated with power, dominance, and strength, the sexualization of women’s bodies is linked to submission, frailty, and possession. Hence the name, “fighting fucktoy”. Her beauty does not make her powerful, it makes her a “toy”, an object, a possession. The sexualization of men in media gives them power within their narratives. For women, it does the complete opposite. It makes them objects, even when they are strong. Beauty and sex make them the victims of their own stories. Ultimately, the hypermasculine male character is envied and emulated, not coveted.

Ironman: Femme Fatale

The storyline of the first Iron Man movie is one concerned with bodily autonomy in a way typically reserved for women--Tony Stark is presented as a fighting fucktoy with an unattainable heart. Not only that, he must struggle against the literal policing of his body by friends, family, and government agencies alike. This subversive, unexpected feminine story culminates in the pinnacle “rape scene” wherein a trusted older-male drugs and assaults Tony in order to take advantage of his “body”, the arc-reactor.

Let’s examine Tony’s coded “fighting fucktoy” persona in two parts: the “fighting” and the “fucktoy”. Miss Representation identifies what female leadership often looks like in movies. “When it comes to female leaders in entertainment media, we see the bitchy boss who has sacrificed family and love to make it to where she is” (2). Odd as it may seem, this perfectly encapsulates the metaphorical role of the arc reactor powering the Iron Man suits. First and foremost, the reactor represents Tony Stark’s heart. Not only is it literally located within his heart for the purpose of keeping it intact, it represents his rebirth as a caring, philanthropic man--it encapsulates Stark’s “fight”. Before his kidnapping and the subsequent implanting of the reactor, Stark was every inch the “bitchy boss who has sacrificed family and love” as well as morals themselves in order to be a war profiteer. His “fight” consists of standing up against the same system that had allowed him to amass his fortune. This “fight” is inextricably tied to his “bitchy boss” caricature as someone who has had to surrender love.

It is clear to the viewer that Stark has had to sacrifice love to get where he is in life. Many allusions are given towards the “will they won't they” nature of his relationship with Pepper Potts and Stark’s work is identified as the reason why they won’t. At the end of the movie, Stark attempts to seduce Potts, asking if she ever “thinks about that night” to which she replies, “Are you talking about the night that we danced and went up on the roof, and then you went downstairs to get me a drink, and you left me there, by myself?” The viewers are aware that the reason Stark ran off was because he had received news that Stark weapons had gotten into the wrong hands. Later, Potts will gift him the original arc reactor with the engraving: PROOF THAT TONY STARK HAS A HEART surrounding it. In an unconventional way, Stark portrays the frigid boss who sacrificed everything to get where she is in his titular fight against a war profiteering machine.

Next, let’s examine his role as the fucktoy. This is a more subtle theme throughout the film, present in body language and subtext. I will focus mainly on scenes which present a femme-coded sexualization--scenes where emphasis on Stark’s body does not lend Stark power, but instead strips him of his autonomy. Take for example the scene pictured below. In this scene, Stark bares his chest to Stane. He is quick to cover up and fruitlessly attempts to redirect Stane’s curiosity. Much like a scene where an attractive woman shows skin, the emphasis is placed on Stark redirecting Stane’s predatory interest. Notice the tension in Stark’s stance, the challenge in his eyes and the contrasting pose of Stane, mid-motion, pushing so close into Stark’s space. Stane is clearly coded as the aggressor once the reactor comes out. The same effect is observed as when a woman bares skin--an apparent loss of autonomy as other characters (and even the cinematography itself) takes a pornographic view of her body. Instead of a powerful male character baring his chest in the heat of a battle, giving the audience a glimpse of corded muscle and strength, this scene leaves the viewer feeling uncomfortable on Stark’s behalf.

[TW Start] This femme-coded sexualization that leads ultimately to a loss of autonomy again rears its head in the titular “rape scene”. This is the clearest instance of the reactor--a literal part of Stark’s body, symbolically present as his heart--lends itself to his victimization. Just as a hypersexualized female character with no bodily autonomy, Stark’s bodily autonomy is forcefully violated so that a powerful male figure in his life can exploit a part of him. This theme becomes horrifyingly clear when the scene is examined up close.

Notice the position of their bodies. Once again, Stane towers over Stark, pressing into his space on all sides. In the first image, to the right, he has an arm draped over the back of the couch--a parody of a romantic or perhaps affectionate gesture from one intimate partner to another. Stane visibly radiates power in this position, even if the viewer were unaware of Stark’s paralyzed state. Stane’s shoulders are squared, even sitting down. The position of the reactor in his hand is relaxed and undeniably taunting. Looking at Stark himself, the horror and powerlessness of his situation is clear. His eyes are open, but almost appear to be unseeing. He is not looking directly at the reactor nor at Stane. In fact, it seems as though his eyes are looking below the reactor and to the room at large. I can only describe his expression as hollow--the blank eyes fixed out to something the viewers cannot see, his mouth partially open, his skin sickly pale.

In the second image, pictured above, Stane leers over Stark’s body, cradling his head in, once again, a parody of a lover’s tenderness. He coaxes Stark’s now limp form down onto the couch, having just paralyzed him with a fictional, technological nerve agent. The horror is shockingly clear on Stark’s face and the perverse joy is just as clear on Stane’s. This scene itself is an undeniable parody of rape, or, at the very least, physical assault. [TW End]

Tony Stark presents us with a clear, femme-coded character as his story line draws upon classicly feminine tropes wherein the sexualization of the character’s body is exploitative at heart and leaves them vulnerable to physical predation. In this way, though he is strong, his “body” makes him the victim of his own story. Not only that, his character arc itself travels from the heart-less profiteer to the philanthropic man with a heart of gold, drawing upon another classically femme-caricature of the “bitchy boss”.

Queer Tropes & The Closet

Queer tropes are much harder to draw upon than that of feminine tropes. Queer tropes in film developed in a time of great censorship and as a result are often subtle. There are three main tropes I would like to reference for the purposes of this critique. Within the Iron Man franchise, there exists a distinct sense of camp, a problematized sexual promiscuity, and, ultimately, an identity-reveal/coming out storyline.

One of the most obvious of these tropes is camp. Camp is “defined as the purposeful and ironic adoption of stylistic elements that would otherwise be considered bad taste. Camp aesthetics are generally extreme, exaggerated and showy and always involve an element of mockery” (3). Camp is present in queer culture most commonly in the ball and drag scenes. Camp is the gaudy, the glitzy, the over-the-top, the classic-but-not, the in-your-face… Camp is all of the above and more. This is why it is so easily recognizable to audiences.

The Advocate identifies a series of seventeen queer caricatures in media for consideration, one of them being that of the “promiscuous queer”. Everyone knows the myth of the promiscuous bisexual, even when the reality is that bisexual individuals are no more or no less likely to view monogamy as “sacrificial” than gay or straight individuals (4). The stereotype of the promiscuous bisexual is inaccurate and harmful, and they are by no meals alone in being labeled overly promiscuous by a general audience. The “promiscuous queer” is defined as a character that may struggle with emotional intimacy and, as a result, sleeps around to mask the love they are missing in their life. “Films going back as far as the ’80s British period piece Another Country have featured gay male characters who use sex to cover for their inability to feel true intimacy with another human being” (5). Among their list of guilty perpetrators are Queer as Folk, The L Word, The Good Wife, and How to Get Away With Murder.

The last trope I’d like to present is that of the “coming out” story. Far from being problematic, the “coming out” is often necessary when telling a queer story. Coming out storylines can be problematized when they are presented as “Big Dark Secrets” that weigh heavily on a person until they are spoken. Ultimately, coming out is a choice. Many queer people choose to come out while many do not. There are many people who fall in between--some people may be comfortable being out to select individuals while not to others or to the world at large. In any case, people can be satisfied and fully fulfilled in any of those choices. Coming out stories are undeniably part of queer culture in media. Consider the recent hit, Love Simon alongside Transparent, Empire, Supergirl, and Glee.

Camp, Secrets & Sex

Through the camp of the Iron Man persona, the problematized sexuality of Stark, and the underlying theme of a “coming out” journey, Tony Stark presents audiences with a classically queer experience in film. Take the Iron Man suit itself. The iconic red and gold, the whine of the repulsors, the sleek metal edges and the furious glow of the arc reactor all scream camp. The red and the gold, the opening bars of Back In Black, the facial hair cut into odd spikes, and the sunglasses do, too. Each and every part of the Iron Man persona is camp. “Stylistic elements that otherwise would be bad taste”... talk about gold-plated biceps and a bright red, glowing chest piece! It's camp, baby!

The problematized sexuality of Stark is harder to see as reminiscent of a queer trope. Take, for example, one of the first scenes in the movie. “I do anything and everything that Mr. Stark requires, including, occasionally, taking out the trash”, Potts remarks in reference to a one-night stand she’s ushering out of Stark’s home. Here, Potts implies that Stark sleeps with “trash”. The following scene gives us the feeling that this is not a one-off occurrence. As Potts enters the room, Stark asks, “how’d she take it?” References to his repeated promiscuity are obvious. “Playboy” is an integral part of his persona. Equally obvious is Potts’ disapproval. Taking these inferences of his playboy lifestyle with what viewers know of Stark’s lack of attachments--his “bitchy boss” exterior, if you may--it appears as though his promiscuity is a symptom of the promiscuous queer stereotype.

“Don’t ever ask me to do anything like that ever again,” Potts says after removing the initial arc reactor model from Stark’s chest cavity. “I don’t have anyone but you,” Stark replies. The viewer has a clear picture of Stark as a playboy type who is truly lonely on the inside--who struggles with emotional intimacy. This struggle is evident, given that Potts, Stark’s secretary and co-worker, is the only person in his life he trusts to assist him in what is essentially open heart surgery. His playboy lifestyle mirrors the circumstances of the promiscuous queer trope in media.

Finally, we come to the last scene of the movie-- the climactic reveal. “I am Iron Man”, Stark says. This scene most clearly illustrates a queer story-line. Stark reveals his “identity”, shedding his last secret, and declares to reporters (and effectively the world) that he is Iron Man. To understand how this scene evokes such a strong sense of queer experience in viewers, I’d like to reference another recent in-universe identity reveal in the Marvel Cinematic canon. In Spiderman: Far From Home, the end-credit scene shows Peter Parker reacting in horror to his identity being leaked via doctored footage from the villain Mysterio. This scene can read as nothing but a deep violation. Even the main characters themselves react in abject horror at the news. The Spiderman identity reveal and the Iron Man identity reveal are two sides of the same coming-out process. In one, the character had full agency. In the other, the reveal was non-consensual, a complete violation. It is clear that both of these scenes draw explicitly upon themes that resonate particularly with queer audiences.

To Infinity(War) and Beyond

Growing up, I latched onto Iron Man and Tony Stark as an outlet for my “otherness”. I was well and truly obsessed with the character for reasons that I could not really put into words. He was weird, he was loud, and he was, frankly, unapologetic about any of it. I remember very clearly on my first day of tenth grade listening to Thunderstruck by AC/DC in the car and putting on the brightest shade of red lipstick I could find. Tony Stark gave me confidence. He gave me a voice. Throughout high-school I must have watched the first Iron Man movie upwards of twenty, maybe even thirty times. It was a comfort to me because it showed experiences I resonated with and it showed a strong character recovering from them. Tony Stark rose from the ashes every time and gave me the strength to rise from my own ashes every time he did.

Our heroes can be anything. And Tony Stark was mine.

[protectwoc]

thots on little women (2019)

or, y’all are giving greta gerwig too much credit, part one

(Before y’all say anything, I know)

I have a lot of thoughts about the new Little Women movie.

I should probably start by saying that I loved the new movie. I thought most of the acting performances were good (Emma Watson’s accent notwithstanding), and it was a pretty faithful adaptation of the book; a lot of the quotes were lifted verbatim from the novel, and I often found myself mouthing along with the actors. I don’t usually like book-to-screen adaptation changes, but I actually didn’t mind most of the changes here. The two biggest things that were changed were the decision to start the story in the middle and jump back and forth, and the positioning Jo as the writer of Little Women who was forced to write in the “Jo marries Bhaer and gets a happy (married) ending” bit. I actually really liked both of those choices and thought they were good additions to the story, making this probably the only time I’ve ever liked any book-to-screen adaptation changes. Also, I am and have been since childhood an Amy March stan, and I liked that her character was more fleshed out and relatable to other viewers. I also think Florence Pugh did a superb acting job. Overall I liked it a lot, and I fully intend on rewatching it again.

I should also say that I read Little Women when I was very young, probably nine or ten, and I loved it, and it has been one of my favorite books since. Regardless of these facts, I never saw any of the live action versions, so the only version I have to compare the 2019 one with is the movie inside my head. With that said, as previously mentioned, I have a lot of thoughts.

Look, the movie was really good. I thought so, my family thought so, and clearly critics thought so too. But when I started reading the reviews after I had seen the movie, something about them kept rubbing me the wrong way. Something kept nagging at me, but it wasn’t until I read this particular review that I realized what it was: “here’s the thing about greta gerwig’s little women. it’s really not just about jo anymore...she showed the struggle and sacrifice and love that meg has. she gives beth one of the most beautiful story arcs ever. she lets beth exist in the movie and grow on us before her death.” But… she didn’t, I remember thinking. And that is the crux of my issue with the movie, or at least, the conversation around the movie. It feels like a lot of people are giving Gerwig credit for things she didn’t actually do, like fully fleshing out the non-Jo characters, or exploring Jo’s sexuality. And that is what I am going to discuss in this essay.

I imagine the Venn Diagram of people who read my first Descendants meta and people who will be interested in this is virtually nonexistent (probably just me, honestly) but just in case, this essay will be set up similarly to my last one. It will probably come in at least two parts, since I can already feel this getting away from me, and I will start with an unnecessarily long list of prefaces:

This meta is not, for the most part, about race. I do believe Greta Gerwig is a White Feminist™, which shows up in a lot of her work, up to and including this one. Obviously the racial diversity of Little Women is virtually nonexistent, but coming from a Greta Gerwig adaptation of Little Women, I’m not sure what y’all were expecting. Since I didn’t go into the movie anticipating any sort of racial diversity, I wasn’t disappointed, and for that reason I will be leaving racial dynamics and Gerwig’s fraught history with racial diversity out of this meta almost entirely.

As previously mentioned, I read Little Women when I was pretty young and loved it. I read it way before I knew anything about the internet or media discussion, so I formed my opinions on the story writ large independently of basically everyone else. With that said, it wasn’t until way later, like about 14 or 15, that I actually started reading online discourse about Little Women and discovered that my opinions ran contrary to just about everyone else’s.

For example, I have always loved Amy March. She was always my favorite character, her chapters of the book were always my favorite to reread, and I was ecstatic when she married Laurie and thought it made perfect sense.

Conversely, I have never been a huge fan of Jo. I know, in the book community that’s basically blasphemy, but whatever. This sense of apathy is probably due to the fact that Jo and I have virtually the same personality, and I get on my own nerves quite often, and also that even as a child I was never a huge fan of Jo’s “not like other girls” personality.

I am what some people would call hyper-romantic. Consequently, my favorite section of the book has always been the last half, with all of the romances and drama. I also didn’t have a huge problem with Jo’s marriage to Bhaer; I didn’t love it or anything, but given that I was never super attached to Jo’s character, I wasn’t super broken up when she married him, also partly because…

I never read Jo as queer. I know, I know, but as a bi woman, I never picked up on whatever subtext everybody else seemed to. I grew up around a lot of white women in the country, and they all acted exactly like Jo did, so maybe that’s why. Of course, it’s a perfectly valid interpretation/headcanon, I’m just telling y’all that I personally never saw it. With that said, I was excited to watch an interpretation where she was more explicitly queer, as all the reviews seemed to say she was, and boy, was I… disappointed.

To clarify, I’m not saying all of my opinions because I want to change anyone’s mind, or convince them that they’ve been reading the book wrong all these years. But I think it’s important to let y’all know where I’m coming from, since I’m sure it’s going to color the way that I view the movie, and the problems within it. In the same way, if my personal opinions about the book change the way you are going to read this essay, I suggest stopping now.

With all that said, I present: Thoughts on Little Women (2019). Also, spoilers, obviously.

Part One: The Sisters

A lot of the praise given to Gerwig’s Little Women centers around one thing: Jo’s sisters. Specifically, how the three sisters are given a much more prominent role in the storyline than in previous adaptations, almost to the level of Jo herself. Now, as previously mentioned, I have never seen another adaptation of Little Women, but I can speak for this adaptation and say that I feel supremely let down.

Let’s start with the obvious: Beth. The review that I cited claimed that Gerwig “gave Beth one of the most beautiful story arcs ever” and “let viewers get to know her so that you really feel her loss.” While of course this reviewer is entitled to their opinion on this movie; all media is up for interpretation, I can’t say that I agree with these statements, or even know where this interpretation came from.

Beth basically only has five major scenes in the film. Obviously she’s a part of many of the other girls’ scenes, but when I’m discussing her “major” scenes, I’m referring to ones where the main focus of the directing is on Beth and her feelings/behaviors. Anyone who read Little Women can tell you that the most memorable thing about Beth is her death. Unfortunately, in the movie, the scenes that deal with her sickness/death are more focused on Jo’s feelings than Beth’s. In the past, Jo mourns her hair with more concern than she shows for Beth, and in the present, the focus continues to be more on Jo’s emotions. Beth’s only actual major scenes are:

Beth is too nervous to talk to Mr. Laurence and hides behind Marmee

Beth is the only one of the March sisters to go visit and take care of the Hummels; she contracts scarlet fever

Beth overcomes her fear of Mr. Laurence and goes to play the piano in his house.

Mr. Laurence gifts Beth a beautiful grand piano; she goes to thank him.

Jo takes Beth to the beach where Beth confesses she is ready to die.

The problem with these scenes is that they tell us basically nothing about Beth’s characteristics. From those five scenes, we can glean that she is selfless, shy, until she isn’t anymore, and that she is a musician, which, contrary to what many musicians believe, is not a personality trait. In actuality, we cannot even concretely say that she is shy, since we only see this behavior through her interactions with Mr. Laurence. She seems to have no problem engaging with the Hummels, and it could just as well be that she is more nervous interacting with a rich older unmarried man, which would not be uncommon for a woman of her situation in her time period.

The only personality trait that differentiates Beth from her sisters is her selflessness, since all three of the other sisters have moments of selfishness that define their characters. But the only time this is ever contrasted with them is when she goes to visit the Hummels, (and then she contracts scarlet fever as a punishment?) One occurrence does not a personality trait make. We know virtually nothing about who Beth is. When viewers see Beth’s sickness and eventual death, they feel sympathy for Jo instead of mourning Beth’s character.

In fairness to Gerwig, much of this is the result of the source material instead of a directing choice. Beth was never given as much focus on Alcott’s Little Women as her sisters. For context, each of the sisters were given “chapters” that focused on their adventures and exploits. Meg has eight, Jo has fourteen,  and Amy has ten. Beth has a grand total of five chapters actually centered around her point of view. So it seems obvious that in an adaptation of the source material, Beth would not have been given nearly as much precedence in the narrative.

BUT, and this is a huge but, we knew that Gerwig has no problem changing huge parts of the story she’s telling. This is not a bad thing; as I’ve already mentioned, I think it works to her advantage in many parts of this movie, namely the ending change. So it would not have been out of her scope of abilities or desires to change parts of the source material to flesh out Beth’s character in the same way she fleshed out Jo’s. The fact that she elected not to do that shows that she simply didn’t want to.

Again, this is not a bad thing. Even though it is always presented as a story of four sisters, it is no secret that Jo is the main character of both the book and basically every adaptation. It is no surprise that she is the most developed character because she is essentially the protagonist.

HOWEVER, with all of that knowledge, the thing that irks me about this movie is how the conversations around it has been giving Gerwig so much credit for how developed all of the sisters are when this just isn't true. As it turns out, it is untrue across the cases of all of the sisters.

The next most obvious is Meg. Meg’s case is arguably more egregious than Beth’s, because arc-wise, she is the one who lost the most in the book to screen adaptation. As before, let’s take a look at Meg’s major scenes:

Meg is invited to spend several weeks with her rich friends and she allows them to parade her around and turn her into someone she’s not (even if she wants to be.)

After Laurie sees her in at the party with her friends he judges her, then apologizes, and then they dance and he treats her like a lady.

When the sisters go with Laurie and company to the beach, John Brooke flirts with her, which she reciprocates.

Later on, John volunteers to go with Marmee to take care of Mr. March, and Meg kisses him on the cheek.

Before her wedding to John, Jo asks Meg to run away with her, and Meg responds that “Just because my dreams aren’t as big as yours doesn’t mean they aren’t important.”

Meg’s rich friend Sally convinces her to buy a length of expensive silk to have a dress made.

After purchasing the silk, we see Meg regretful outside her home, and she hugs her twin children.

Meg and John have a conversation about the silk, in which she tells him that she “is so tired of being poor.” When John looks hurt, she apologizes.

John comes to the March household to tell Meg that she should have her dress made. She tells him that she’s already sold it to Sally, and they make up. 

Meg definitely has more focused scenes in this movie than Beth does, which makes sense, as she is clearly a more prominent character than Beth is. In the book, Meg has a total of eight focused chapters, to Beth’s five. However, proportionately, the ratio of Meg’s focused scenes to Beth’s is considerably less than the ratio of Meg’s focused chapter’s to Beth’s. This is because for whatever reason, many of the scenes that dealt heavily with Meg’s character, particularly in the second half of the book, were done away with in the movie. Meg’s lifelong dream in both the novel and the movie was to be a wife and mother, and she has an entire arc in the book that centers around that. In the movie, however, it was entirely cut out.

Look. I’m not here to pass judgements on the merits of Meg’s lifelong goal from a feminist perspective. Meg is allowed to have her dream just as Jo is. In the movie, Meg has a wonderful line right before her wedding, when Jo suggests that they run away together. “Just because my dreams are different than yours doesn’t mean they’re less important.” This is a lovely, sentimental, and even feminist take on Meg’s hopes. Desiring to be mother to a man and mother to children is not necessarily a feminist dream, but she is entitled to it just the same. Following that same logic, if you are going to go out of your way to include a line about how Meg and Jo’s dreams are equally important, they should be treated so in the narrative. At the bare minimum, Meg’s arc should be on par with the source material, but it simply isn’t.

In the second half of Little Women, Meg has several focused chapters where she learns to manage a household, comes to terms with being the wife of a poor man, and how to balance having children with having a husband. She has several important discussions with Marmee and with John that are entirely cut from the movie, and we only see her children, Daisy and Demi, twice.

To reiterate, none of this is bad filmmaking, per se. If Greta Gerwig set out to make an adaptation of Little Women that is more focused on centering Jo as the protagonist than the novel, that is perfectly fine. The problem is that Gerwig seems to think she made a more balanced adaptation than the source material, and so does everybody else.

[wordssometimesfail]

Subtext, character arcs, and tragedy in IT Chapter 2

Y’know, I really appreciate the positivity in the Reddie fandom right now when it comes to the likelihood of Eddie reciprocating Richie’s feelings. There IS evidence to suggest he felt the same way in the movies, but like... I gotta be bitter, because it wasn’t enough. 

After a long-ass conversation with @skinks​ about this very bullshit, I tried to make it more meta-ish because I’m still pissed. 

(Everything else below the cut because this is long and spoileriffic)

It baffles me that the creators of the film were able to look at the book and see Richie’s queer-coding, but somehow didn’t catch Eddie’s. That they saw the subtext suggesting Richie had feelings for Eddie, but missed the all the subtext suggesting that Eddie returned those feelings. Or, that they DID pick up on all of that, but chose to cut it because... why? I genuinely don’t understand why. 

Eddie’s arc in Chapter 2 only makes sense when divorced from the rest of the text - not just the rest of Chapter 2, but from the book and from Chapter 1 as well. Book!Eddie was repressed, but not cowardly. His inner conflict revolved around his fear of himself, that there was something rotten and diseased in him, which was only exacerbated by his mother’s Munchhausen-by-proxy. But he was always ready to go all-out for his friends, and he did. The thing that got him in the end was a shaky belief in himself and his own power, not an inability to act despite his fear. 

And Chapter 1!Eddie was a scrapper. He was still afraid of disease, etc., but he was always ready to fight, to help, to throw the fuck down to protect himself and his friends. 

Who the fuck is Eddie in Chapter 2? You could argue that because he forgot who he was with the Losers, he buried the brave part of himself, but no, they go out of their way to show that he was always like this, the cowardice thing goes back to when he was a kid. Like, where the hell did that come from? 

It makes sense as a self-contained thing, if you look at it as the writer/director trying to make his death feel like the conclusion of a character arc, rather than an abrupt tragedy as it was in the book & miniseries. I think that was what happened, honestly. But in the context of the wider text, it doesn’t fucking work. That wasn’t the Eddie King wrote and it wasn’t the Eddie they wrote in Chapter 1. Moreover, considering Eddie’s queer-coding and the tension between him and Richie... why choose that as your arc? 

If you’re going to go all-out and canonize Richie being queer and having feelings for Eddie... why stop there? Why leave Eddie’s reciprocal feelings as subtext? Why not expand on what you already had, i.e. Eddie’s fear of disease - make it clear that it’s a metaphor for his fear of being broken/rotten/wrong inside, make it clear what that metaphor implies? Have him realize by the end that he’s not broken, there’s nothing wrong with him, that he’s loved, he’s IN love, and he’s willing to fight to keep it? 

Hell, to be perfectly honest, I’ve never liked Eddie’s death, either as a fan of his character or narratively. As I said, it’s abrupt in the book and miniseries - it makes sense for his character, but only because his character is pretty static throughout the story. He lives repressed and miserable and dies repressed and miserable, only ever getting to glimpse who he might’ve been otherwise. Eddie is a rich, wonderful character, but a tragic one with no real arc. Some people like that, but I personally hate it. 

I appreciate Muschietti & co. trying to give him an arc, but I just... wish that they had done so by expanding on who he was in the text, or the version of him that they wrote. I wish they had given him a storyline that made sense for the character, rather than re-writing his character to make sense with the ending. They already changed a LOT for this adaptation, why not change that? 

And like, ultimately, canonizing Richie’s feelings and having Eddie die is just... hopeless. It doesn’t gel with the story’s overall theme of love overcoming hatred, fear, and bigotry. It works if Eddie’s story is meant to be a tragedy through-and-through, the story of a queer man who could never bring himself to admit and be happy with who he was - you get the idea that if he had been, he might’ve lived. It’s upsetting, but it works. But if his story is one of overcoming his cowardice, then that element is lost - his death is sad, but he died bravely, so his arc (as per Chapter 2) is complete. Because of this, suddenly the tragedy of his death is all about Richie losing the love of his life, in direct parallel to Adrian’s boyfriend Don, who lost his. But if that’s the story, then what are we meant to get from it? Being out didn’t save Don from heartbreak, and being closeted didn’t save Richie. And because Eddie’s queerness and feelings for Richie remain all subtext (and let’s be honest guys, it’s pretty meager subtext compared to what we get in the book & even the miniseries), we don’t even know whether Richie had a shot at happiness with him in the first place! If Eddie had lived, we don’t know that he and Richie would’ve been together. We don’t even know whether Eddie would’ve been hypothetically interested. He’s completely decentralized from his own story, because at the end of the day, what Eddie wanted and what Eddie felt for Richie isn’t treated like it matters. His death is about Richie’s grief and Richie being alone - out or on his way out of the closet, perhaps, but lonely and bereaved. It has nothing to do with Eddie anymore, and it’s hopeless and dissatisfying through-and-through. 

Normally I’m iffy on characters being spared or killed in adaptations, when that’s not what happened to them in the source material. It can work, but usually I feel like it weakens the story. In this case, I think that saving Eddie would’ve strengthened the story. But if saving him wasn’t in the cards, the least - the very least - they could’ve done was give him a better arc, and canonize his coding the way they did for Richie. Without that, his story falls so, so tragically flat. 

[if-only-angels-could-prevail]

here’s the introductory essay I wrote about Can You Ever Forgive Me?

Gay people on screen have existed almost as long as movies themselves. But, because of what was deemed socially acceptable, and because of the Hays code that lasted from 1930 to 1968, gay characters could not be fully, canonically incorporated into the stories that were being told on screen.

So writers relied on subtext. Hollywood staples as wide-ranging as Ben-Hur, Rebecca, Johnny Guitar, The Maltese Falcon, and Rebel Without A Cause, to name only a handful of the most famous examples, all succeeded at showing queer characters onscreen subtextually, taking advantage of subtle glances and double entendre. Through subtext, gay filmmakers could create gay characters for gay audiences, largely unperceived by straight audience members. In short, gay people were the pioneers of close reading in cinema.

To be clear, subtext as applied to the gay experience has existed long before the invention of film. Anyone who has grown up as gay or queer can tell you that, in a largely anti-gay society, gay people have always had to find ways to read coded language and find ways to communicate that exist outside of the mainstream, simply to find each other, and see each other, and maybe land a date. I theorize that rather that invent a new language for film, queer filmmakers simply applied their own intuited knowledge of the gay experience and translated it to the screen. And suddenly, for the first time, this adopted language could be seen by millions of viewers across the country.

If we fast forward past those earlier movies I mentioned, we finally have some characters who are not only gay on screen, but characters who are out on screen. In 1961, the British movie Victim was the first English-language movie to feature the word “homosexual.” In 1970, we have a milestone of queer cinema, The Boys In The Band, about a group of gay friends celebrating a birthday. In 1972, the movie adaptation of Cabaret made the central character, based Charles Isherwood, canonically queer. In 1978, the French movie La Cage aux Folles was a smash hit. This movement in the 70s paved the way for more contemporary queer cinema, which now includes the likes of Brokeback Mountain, Carol, Moonlight, Call Me By Your Name, and Love Simon, movies which have all achieved critical and audience acclaim.

But rather than celebrate our victory too soon, let’s take a closer look at the intended audiences of all these movies.

Those earlier movies that were made during the Hays code managed to exist in spite of straight audiences. And as soon as gay characters were allowed to openly declare their sexuality on screen, with Victim in 1961, Hollywood did a complete reversal and created gay characters specifically with straight audiences in mind.

In Victim, the gay central character actively works to fight his own homosexual desires, and in the end, he burns a suggestive photo of his male lover. The pivotal scene of The Boys In The Band involves the arrival of a straight man to the gay party, and from there the scenario devolves into bitterness and self-hatred. Even La Cage aux Folles doesn’t allow gayness to exist independently—much of the comedy is derived from the contrast between the gay couple and two conservative politicians. And Cabaret, even with its shattering queer moment, is more interested in the relationship between the central man and woman than anyone else.

The current wave of gay cinema—which includes Brokeback Mountain, Carol, Moonlight, Call Me By Your Name, and Love Simon—should fare better. But all of these movies, and almost every other movie about queerness, follows the specific narrative of two queer characters who dare to love each other in an oppressive, homophobic world. These movies weren’t made for gay people to find solace and comfort so much as they were made for straight people to feel sorry, and feel as though they’re engaging with queer issues in a meaningful way. As if they’re showing up halfway through the party in The Boys In The Band.

To summarize, the history of cinema has essentially handed us two types of gay narratives. They are the gay stories that exist in the shadows, relying exclusively on subtext, and the gay stories that exploit the pain of gay people for the benefit of straight audience members.

Enter Can You Ever Forgive Me?.

Can You Ever Forgive Me? takes place in the very real queer world of literary writers and collectors in New York City in the early 90s. As such, we finally have a movie where some characters are explicitly queer, other characters are coded as queer, and the narrative is something much more intricate, nuanced, and dramatically fulfilling than simply the homos vs the heteros. Simply by positioning this relatively straightforward story in a world that’s anything but straight, the movie is able to explore so many ideas that have been left relatively untouched in queer cinema.

One such theme in the movie is appearances. Every character in this movie has a carefully cultivated and specific appearance. And we, as audiences, can intuit much about their personality based not just on how they look—after all, this is not a superhero movie--but on their approach to their own appearance. How they appear to the world at large vs. how they appear in private.

Related to that, Can You Ever Forgive Me? is about the simultaneous thrill and burden of being seen. The high that comes with being noticed and wanted, paired with the simultaneous dread of being exposed as a fake, or as ugly, or as unglamorous. And then there’s the inherent embarrassment that comes with desire. Society, and straight society in particular, teaches us to cover our vulnerability and practice apathy as a way to gain social clout. How do we respond to that form of strategic oppression, which affects all of us, regardless of sexuality? Do we respond with a “fuck it” attitude, like the character of Jack, who acts shamelessly and lives on the edge? Or do we respond like the character of Lee, who more cautiously measures her own desires and, while pretending she doesn’t care what people think on the outside, is actually deeply vulnerable and insecure? In the end, both approaches have their ups and downs, and both characters fall victim to society’s comeuppance by choosing not to act alongside the established rules of straight society. The movie avoids the easy answer, choosing rather to let the audience follow the course of the two characters’ decisions throughout, and witness where their approaches and desires intersect.

The idea of being seen, of course, relates back to the first idea I discussed, which is subtext. Pay close attention to the different ways characters are coded—not just as queer, but as privileged, as lonely, as excited. What is deemed socially acceptable prevents almost every character in the movie from saying exactly what they want, and exactly what they mean. It’s almost as if there are two movies here. There’s the plot, and then there’s what’s implied underneath it all. You can analyze many of the scenes in the movie from multiple angles—the text tells you what’s happening, and the subtext probes you into what the characters are really thinking.

It sounds intimidating. But being both a queer movie and a con movie, it’s actually a very natural marriage of content and approach.

Even the title, Can You Ever Forgive Me, functions in multiple ways. The phrase comes from the central character impersonating the voice of Dorothy Parker. In the phrase’s most immediate context, as the content of a letter, it’s a witty, somewhat spontaneous remark. If you take a step back and consider the actual author, who is not Dorothy Parker but Lee Israel, as played by Melissa McCarthy, it’s clear that the character is using someone else’s voice because the world will not accept her on her own terms. And if you take a step further in and consider the phrase itself, there’s a more painful quality than is let on in the initial context. On one hand, it’s playful and off the cuff. On the other hand, it’s a veiled plea with society at large, a completely earnest longing for acceptance. Can we ever forgive her, for her crimes against what the mainstream would have her be? Can we ever forgive her for being gay, for being old, for being a woman, for being butch, for being poor, for being an alcoholic?

Only we, the audience, and we, the world, can answer.

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

“After the disappointment of the Andrew Garfield-led Amazing Spider-Man movies, everyone’s favorite wallcrawler has been having a renaissance. Entering the Marvel cinematic universe in 2016's Captain America: Civil War, the webslinger fully redeemed himself with well-crafted live-action film in Spider-Man: Homecoming.”

 Yes...okay...that was definitely what Homecoming was....

 “and a wildly successful spin-off film Venom, ”

 I mean financially successful sure...

 “In the midst of all his success, Spider-Man has quietly become one of the most inclusive and socially conscious superheroes of today.”

*raises eyebrow*

 Okay...go on...

 “Last week, it was announced that Spider-Man: Far From Home would feature two out transgender actors playing trans characters, the first big-budget superhero film to do so. Spider-Man: Homecoming also featured a queer character, as well as numerous people of color.”

  Wait who was the queer character in Homecoming?

 “It’s also worth mentioning that Spiderverse included a Jewish version of Peter Parker, who is typically portrayed as either secular or Christian.”

 ....ehhhhhhhhh....yes and no.

 In media adaptations barring maybe one (the 1994 show cos I do not remember where he got married) Spider-Man is portrayed as...I guess secular but really it’s more that they just don’t say anything.

 It’s not that the character is not a believer in a faith per se, especially if you go by older adaptations during times when hardly anyone was secular. It’s just that they, understandably, aren’t saying anything.

 In the comics Peter is some kind of Christian but probably a Protestant (unless you go by Amazing Grace where he is an atheist but that’s hot trash we don’t talk about) but we don’t really talk about it that specifically.

 We just know that he and his family celebrate Christmas and very, very occasionally Aunt May references going to church and that she, Peter and MJ believe in a monothetistic deity they refer to as ‘God’.

 And really apart from the Church thing there is no clue to Peter’s religion and Marvel probably (wisely) would rather keep it that way. He even got married in a civil ceremony!

 However in the SUBTEXT...he’s Jewish. And it’s basically an open secret that he is and always has been Jewish.

 “The Spider-Man video game also featured a wonderful easter egg for queer fans by having a giant rainbow flag, as well as several smaller ones, scattered around the game’s fictionalized New York City map. ”

 I mean that’s wonderful but I wouldn’t call that an Easter Egg so much as...it’s just what you’d find in modern NYC.

 “Even the Venom film got in on the fun, with fans shipping Tom Hardy’s Eddie Brock and the titular male alien-symbiote after the two kissed in the film. Sony even encouraged the pairing, releasing a romantic comedy-esque trailer for the film to promote the home release. While some complained of queer-baiting, most felt that it was all in good fun and included queer people in on the joke, instead of making us the target.”

 Again, good for them but I don’t think that was the movie actively trying to be positive towards queer people.

 Brock and Venom kissed when Venom was bonded to Brock’s ex-fiance and had a pronounced female form, being an adaptation of a character literally called She-Venom.

 And it was based upon a script written in the 1990s so really it was more the movie did it and then people took it as a thing that was shipping Venom and Brock (even though Venom is sexless). Brock and the symbiote have been shipped numerous times in the comics but the subtext has always been that the symbiote, if any sex, is female. In the Spec cartoon it is referred to as Symbi (a pun on Cyndi) and in the Spider-Girl comics it is marked out as female (granted this happens after it’s bonded to a woman).

 And again, headcanon away but like...that probably wasn’t intentional at all Sony were just being goofy or unintionally made something people took a certain way.

 “Indeed, even in the comics, Spider-Man has always been a fairly inclusive hero. Miles Morales was introduced in the early-2000s, taking over the mantel from Peter Parker for several years. ”

 Okay, this is so weird for me to be correcting such a praising point but lets really look at this.

 First of all Miles didn’t take over Peter’s role for several years he did it permanently.

 Second of all Miles is from 2011 so that’s not the early 2000s, that’s the early 2010s, but okay maybe that was a typo.

 Third of all, is it really all that logical to say this franchise that began in 1962 has always been fairly inclusive and then cite a character from 2011 as proof of this? Wouldn’t examples from during the FIRST quarter century have been more apt?

 Fourth of all...eh. Has Spider-Man been fairly inclusive from the start? Yes, no, its complicated.

 Look there were exactly 0 LGBTQ+ characters in Spider-Man until maybe the 1990s and even then I couldn’t off my head tell you who they were. Felicia Hardy is bisexual but we didn’t find out until the 2000s and it was most prominent in an AU. Really the most significant LGBTQ+ character who’s had the fact that they are queer be more than a one off reference was Max Modell and he debuted 2011 and IIRC wasn’t established as queer until 2012. In defence of Spider-Man the Comics Code literally FORBID any character be anything other than straight until the 1990s and even then it was relatively rare, even in X-Men which you’d think it wouldn’t be.

 If we’re talking POC again this one is a bit complicated Glori Grant, Joe Robertson, Randy Robertson are frequently appearing POC characters but not in every run and they aren’t usually as prominent as like Jameson, Aunt May, Harry Osborn, MJ, etc. Characters of other ethnicities are even less frequent and I don’t even know what we should make of Puma/Thomas Fireheart. I mean A for effort, they wanted a Native American character who wasn’t really a villain and wasn’t exactly a sterotype so there is that I guess.

 Again though...most other Marvel franchises decade by decade weren’t much better with this and we should give credit where credit is due to the same guy who created Black Panther writing a nuanced scene where 2 black people in the 60s separated by age discuss different approaches to civil rights with neither being proven right or wrong.

 When it comes to disabled people, outside of evil insane villains, forget it, there is nothing before Flash Thompson in 2008 unless you count Aunt May’s chronically poor health.

 “Spider-Gwen quickly became one of the highest-selling female superhero comics. Spider-Woman was a prominently featured bisexual character, and the female Asian-American hero Silk also had LGBT supporting characters, Rafferty and Lola, who were in a healthy relationship. Additionally, many view vampire villain Morbius, who is getting a spin-off film starring Jared Leto next year, as a metaphor for those suffering during the HIV crisis of the '80s. ”

 Again...Spider-Gwen and Silk are 2010s characters so that’s not ‘always fairly inclusive’.

 I don’t even know if Jessica Drew is bisexual, I’ve never heard that but I don’t think she is.

 Morbius as a metaphor for HIV...MIGHT be true if we are specifically talking about his 1990s solo-book which I’ve never read. But the character as originally created 100% was never about that because he was created in the 1970s before HIV was known about.

 “Unlike his Marvel counterparts Thor, Iron Man and Captain America, Spider-Man’s world has accurately reflected real world diversity for years.”

 ....Not really.

 I’m not even saying Spidey maybe haven’t been comparatively better at it than those guys but he’s deffo not been accurate.

 Plus to be fair to the other guys, Captain America and Iron Man have had at least one major black supporting cast member and in Cap’s case he was fairly candid about social strife and issues.

 And with Thor it’s not that fair to throw shade at him for not reflecting the real world given that 90% of this characters and stories are literally pulled from fantasy and myth. I don’t even know if there are any queer figures in Norse myth let alone poc.

 “While it’s a seemingly simple idea that any of us can be a superhero, it’s sadly still a radical concept in a endlessly growing film genre that has predominetly centers straight cisgender white men. ”

 Well that’s mostly because the comics the movies adapt are about those types of people.

 “That is because relatability and inclusion has always been core to Spider-Man’s appeal and message. It’s why the late Stan Lee decided that, unlike other superheroes who expose parts of their faces, Spider-Man had to wear a full-face mask.”

  Stan Lee only speculated that that was part of Spider-Man’s appeal, he never had any input on that design choice it was all Steve Ditko...who frankly was unlikely to have been thinking about that...

 “Even further, Spider-Man isn’t the king of a country, a billionaire, a woman out of a Greek myth, or a brilliant scientist. He’s just an average high-school kid from Brooklyn who always strives to do the right thing even while struggling to balance his everyday life and hiding a secret identity.”

 WHOA there buddy...Spider-Man isn’t routinely ‘a kid’ nor is he from Brooklyn.

 MILES is from Brooklyn but Peter, as evidenced by that great big caption in Captain America: Civil War, is from QUEENS.

 “And it’s the idea of balancing a secret identity with everyday life that has always allowed Spider-Man to connect with queer audiences long before comic writers were allowed to explicitly include LGBT characters.”

 ...I’m not denying this necesarrilly but whilst i’ve heard stories from poc who connected with Spider-Man I’ve never heard this about LGBTQ+ fans of Spider-Man.

“Indeed, perhaps the strongest part of Spider-Man’s inclusivity is the subtlety to which it has been done. While Black Panther, Black Lightning, and Wonder Woman rightly put issues of identity front and center, Spider-Man’s quiet diversity allows audiences who typically cry “SJWs are ruining my favorite characters” to actually see diversity showcased without it being overt.”

 Errrrrrr...sure....*represses memories of when Miles Morales was first announced*

 Lets um...wait and see what happens when those trans characters show up in the movie this year okay.

[amwritingmeta]

A Clarification of my view on Dean’s Psychological Profile

I’m focusing on Dean here, because the narrative is focused on Dean as our protagonist - though yes, absolutely, all of TFW are going through changes at the moment - and I’m going to keep this incredibly brief and borderline superficial (there’s a world of psychology out there and this is basically just scratching the tip of the Dean shaped iceberg, but it’s a significant tip) and pull on these, and hopefully deepen them, whenever I go into deeper deconstruction mode —>

The Alter Ego: the act of creating a second personality in which we feel complete confidence in our abilities, where we can separate ourselves from what we perceive as weak or unacceptable in ourselves, the existence of this second personality enabling us to do so whenever we feel a need to.

Like any superhero who has an alter ego ever in the history of super heroes. Like the shapeshifter from Monster Movie, who didn’t just create one alter ego, but a myriad of alter egos who all had similar traits of conflicted identites.

Dean’s alter ego comes into focus when he steps into his soldier persona, but this is and always will be a double edged sword, because what Dean needs isn’t to shed all of his masculine characteristics - he doesn’t need to let go of this alter ego - he just needs to find the inner balance to utilise this alter ego without fearing the more violent side to him will take over. That the more violent side to him is really one of bloodlust that he’s keeping at bay.

He scared himself in Hell, broke his trust in himself completely, and he’s carried that fear with him, but he needs to understand that he is in control of his own actions - if nothing else in this world - and its his choices now that define him, not the mistakes he’s made in the past.

Masking: we have a tendency to adapt to those around us and put on different masks and feel different levels of comfortable depending on the person we’re with. A mask is not a lie, but it isn’t showing the whole truth either. One’s true identity can be concealed behind a layer of these masks, and a mask can be culturally or socially constructed.

I believe this is what Dean often does with Sam. He has had a tendency to mask certain aspects of himself - like how much and exactly what he reads (holy hell he reads romance novels), his wider taste in music, the types of films he enjoys watching - and to me this is all tied to Dean’s conflicted sense identity and having spent most of this series battling with his fears and allowing them to dictate who he should be, never fully landing in who he is because of all of the insecurities surrounding his true identity. Insecurities that I would say were born in John’s lessons of manhood, survival and avoidance of feelings as distractions and weaknesses, but insecurities in himself that I believe has then been wholly perpetuated by societal norms throughout his life.

Neither Winchester has ever showed any kind of judgement of sexuality. Dean gets self-conscious and understandably so - because he believes and has possibly even experienced societal discrimination and judgement for being queer, and so he’s using techniques to blend in rather than stand out - while Sam just smiles and goes with it. Sam, I believe, would never judge Dean for being bi and, honestly, I don’t think John would’ve either (look at how Mary is and how it’s in text that the John she knew was of course different to the John who raised the boys into hunting) so this is not how they were raised to be.

For me this is important, because I believe Dean’s masking behaviour is all about Dean’s conflicted sense of identity, which feeds Dean’s need for purporting Sam’s idea of the big brother and asserting his authority by sticking to well-known patterns, rather than his masking having to do with masking his sexuality. His insecurities surrounding his attraction to men, to me, has to do with societal judgement, rather than the worry about familial judgement.

Deep down Dean has an idea of what he wants, deep down Dean has a good idea of who he is, too, but he’s gotten very good at leaning against his alter ego in order to avoid exploring these ideas further, especially since Sam can’t challenge that alter ego without knowing the other sides of Dean in full, no matter that Sam is our way into understanding that Dean should open up to communicating honestly and without hesitation. It’s very clever that Dean’s masking stands as an obstacle for Dean to take Sam’s prodding seriously, and, of course, it has also been detrimental (and narratively necessary) in ensuring the codependency has remained intact for so long.

Good thing someone was introduced into the narrative that sees clean through Dean’s act, has little patience for it and, more than that, knows every aspect of Dean inside and out and continously is shown to accept him and want to stay by his side no matter what… *glances to the ceiling*

Suppression: is the conscious act of pushing down an unwanted emotion or impulse - a defense mechanism at the ready whenever it’s needed. For example, we can choose to suppress undue anger, fear or desire if we feel the situation makes these emotions inappropriate.

Suppression is a healthy way of dealing with unwanted emotions in the moment. However, suppression can become a habit that actually gives the suppressed emotions enormous power. If you routinely suppress your emotions this technique only works for so long before the emotions come flooding back - they may go away for the moment they’re unwanted, but it doesn’t mean you’ve dispelled them completely - and an outlet will have to be found.

If the suppressed emotions can be funnelled into healthy coping mechanisms - such as artistic endeavour or even physical labour - then that’s great, but some people don’t have access to those types of outlets and, instead, turn to unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Ah, Dean.

Repression: is the unconscious act of pushing down an unwanted emotion or impulse - a defense mechanism we have no control over and that may even result in blocked or reshaped memories. For example, our mind can repress childhood trauma out of self-preservation without us consciously being aware it’s done so.

Inner Child: True adulthood hinges on acknowledging, accepting, and taking responsibility for loving and parenting one's own inner child. For most adults, this never happens. Instead, their inner child has been denied, neglected, disparaged, abandoned or rejected. We are told by society to "grow up," putting childish things aside. To become adults, we've been taught that our inner child--representing our child-like capacity for innocence, wonder, awe, joy, sensitivity and playfulness--must be stifled, quarantined or even killed. The inner child comprises and potentiates these positive qualities. But it also holds our accumulated childhood hurts, traumas, fears and angers. "Grown-ups" are convinced they have successfully outgrown, jettisoned, and left this child--and its emotional baggage--long behind. But this is far from the truth. [x]

I wrote a bit about this in relation to the glorious 13x16.

To my mind, Dean is repressing a lot of the pain John caused him growing up. In S13 Sam even called him out on his behaviour around Jack, telling him that he was starting to sound like John and Dean merely replying with “good”. Dean doesn’t understand the extent of the damage John did to him, and until he can stop idealising this behaviour, until he can stop making excuses and defending John’s inability to show both his sons complete and unconditional love, I believe Dean will struggle with admitting to himself what it is he truly wants for himself.

Here’s the thing - Dean needs to learn how to acknowledge and nurture his inner child - not stifle it, but also not allow it to rule him ie. regress into a turtle shell in a self-indulgent manner if he’s face with a situation he doesn’t know how to or doesn’t want to handle - in order to let go of the past and heal. 

I believe there’s a sincere need for Dean to articulate a forgiveness for John’s choices and mistakes. For Dean to begin truly working on himself - be it in subtext (as it has been ever since 13x01) or actually textualised - he needs to let go of his idealisation of his father’s toxic masculinity traits and admit to himself that all he wanted from his father was unconditional love.

Once he can admit this, I believe he’ll be able to acknowledge his inner child and all that neglect that Dean himself is responsible for within himself, and finally begin to nurture that inner child and open himself up to what he wants for himself, which is what his father made him believe and feel he should never want because feelings are weaknesses, but more than that, the loss of his mother made Dean fear the idea of loving completely, not only because of how it instilled the belief that Good Things Don’t Last (which has been perpetuated throughout his life experiences), but because Dean could see how John’s love for Mary utterly broke him.

In spite of this crippling and wholly repressed fear, it’s what Dean has always longed for more than anything else: lasting love and a home and a family that is able to communicate through trust.

And because of this longing, Dean has suppressed his everyday emotions and his longing for real intimacy for a very long time, engaging in coping mechanisms for emotional outlets of varying kind, dressing himself in the toxic masculinity traits inherited by his father because the soldier in him means strength, assertiveness, determination, getting the job done without hesitation and being brutally merciless because the situation calls for it - his alter ego is an armour that has always made Dean feel safe and in control.

But, of course, the truth is that Dean has never been fully in control. He’s always been ruled by his fears, and until he can face those fears and be honest with himself about what he wants, he narratively shouldn’t be allowed or even be able to fully heal.

Dean finding his way back to his childhood and the home, love, family of that time, essentially undoing the wreckage that Azazel left him with, would also be a lovely emotional bookend for his journey. 

The fact that he’s now stepping into the father role for Jack has traces of all the best lessons for Dean, because for him to open up to an understanding of John the human man who made a helluva lot of mistakes, rather than John the father figure that Dean is protective of and which he emulates to this day, it’s important for Dean to gain perspective, and because of his complicated relationship with Sam of brother/father/mother and the forced parenthood, rather than the chosen, he simply can’t get there based on past experience alone.

Jack speaking the truths that Dean so desperately needs to hear in 13x06 is, honestly, quite remarkable.

Passing: is the ability of a person to be regarded as a member of an identity group or category different from their own, which may include racial identity, ethnicity, caste, social class, sexual orientation, gender, religion, age and/or disability status. Passing may result in privileges, rewards, or an increase in social acceptance, or be used to cope with stigma. Thus, passing may serve as a form of self-preservation or self-protection in instances where expressing one's true or authentic identity may be dangerous. While successful passing may contribute to economic security, safety, and avoidance of stigma, it may take an emotional toll as a result of denial of the authentic self and may lead to depression or self-loathing.

Passing is a common mechanism to use especially when unsure of how you would be received should you come out as anything but straight, or should you reveal you’ve suffered through mental illness or have any form of handicap that might be easier to hide than have out in the open. Passing - and any of its inherent strategies - is employed to avoid societal judgement, discrimination, ostracisation and, in some cases, physical harm.

I feel that passing and masking - along with stepping into his alter ego - are mechanisms that Dean uses when he’s out in public. These mechanisms have become so habitual that many aspects of this behavioural pattern have become part of his only idea of who he is, and because it’s who he’s always believed he should be in order to protect Sam and everyone he loves, whenever feelings related to his true identity stir within him, all the fears that are so deeply rooted make him immediately suppress this true self. 

The root of Dean’s fear of rejection and fear of failure, which is where all his insecurity, self-blame, low self-esteem and conflicted sense of identity originates, is the loss of his mother and the upturning of his entire world, but there’s a flip side to everything, because the root of Dean’s core traits have all grown and flourished thanks to everything he’s been through, thanks to the lessons of John Winchester and thanks to Mary’s choices, not merely because of it.

I want to clarify this, because I’m not saying that his alter ego isn’t also him. We’re dealing with real facets of his actual personality and he is the soldier, he is the fighter, the weapon and the shield, and these traits aren’t meant to go away simply because he begins to heal and reaches a point where he’s able to be himself fully, speaking his truths without hesitation and going for what he truly wants for himself. 

It’s all about striking a balance and getting rid of the internal need Dean has of hiding who he is behind a facade. 

He’s come extremely far.

All those masks and dual natures of episodes 1-11 of last season felt like a continous visual manifestation of Dean beginning to take a closer look at this toxic masculinity armour he’s dressing himself in and hiding behind, the anger and the fear and the control and the lack of trust (in himself even more than in others), and growing aware of the necessity to let it go. The necessity was hammered home in the final scene of 13x20, where he realised that his mode of being was now directly reflecting itself in Sam, who told him that if they die, they’ll do that together too.

This season is digging at the theme of parenthood, at the themes of truth vs. lie, judgement, identity, choice and - I barely even dare believe I’m able to include it in this list - the theme of fear, and it’s digging at them with delightfully sharp tools. I’m very curious to see how deep these tools will actually get to dig. We’ve been on a continous growth streak ever since S11, guys, and the threshholds and cusping of S13 have been pushed to a whole other level in the first five episodes of this season, but… we shall see.

Now I’d like to take a moment and talk to you about unhealthy coping mechanisms and sublimation.

In psychology, sublimation is a mature type of defense mechanism in which socially unacceptable impulses or idealizations are transformed into socially acceptable actions or behaviour, possibly resulting in a long-term conversion of the initial impulse. [x]

This pretty much means that if you have an urge to grab a gun and go out and shoot someone in the head because they’ve angered you, if you successfully sublimate that urge or impulse you will turn it into a healthy action instead, like going into your woodwork shop and building something useful or beautiful or both.

Now, does Dean Winchester engage in sublimation?

Let’s have a look at coping mechanisms that are labeled as negative: 

Avoidance — ie. not confronting a particular situation out of fear. Hi Dean having such trouble articulating emotions through words. *hard side-eye*

Smoking (hmh - including recreational drug use?)

Compulsive spending (meh)

Drinking too much caffeine — well

Escaping — pretty much running away, you know, like Dean did in 14x03 when he ran the fuck away from Cas. *harder side-eye*

Binge drinking — well

Sleeping all day (meh)

Promiscuity — meaningless sex takes the mind off what the heart truly longs for…

Stop eating/overeat — he doesn’t really care about being healthy; overeating is a stretch, but —>

Emotional eating — like eating pizza in a bed littered with empty take out boxes and snack food

I mean, looking at this list and I think we can say that Dean’s coping mechanisms have never been healthy and definitively are nowhere even in the vicinity of showing him off as a mature adult capable of handling his feelings.

I’m so fucking excited about how far he has been shown to have gotten, though, because 14x05 was head explosive goodness.

However, Dean labeling his behaviour as being linked to a healthy strategy of coping with, say, his anger, is a fallacy, and what’s always made me raise my eyebrows the most at it is the fact that it’s the man himself providing the label.

Dean does not have the emotional maturity - especially in S11 - to label his behaviour, and for him to actually believe his behaviour is a healthy and mature way to handle what life throws at him is worrying, to say the least, because it tells us that he’s kidding himself that there’s no need for him to actually work on himself.

The truth is that Dean has not been engaging in sublimation, but Dean using that label for himself in S11 - the season when the cogs truly started turning in his beginning to mature away from old habits - was a plant for where he should end up.

And boy oh boy is he learning lessons left, right and center.

Once he’s matured into self-actualisation and is centered and balanced in himself, he will be able to sublimate any of the above unhealthy coping mechanisms into behaviour that is healthy and sustainable. I cannot wait for that day!

[sapphicbookclub]

Author Spotlight - Erin Jones

Today I’m excited to spotlight Erin Jones, the author of Truth Weekend. Check out her post for some great writing tips which I’m sure you’ll find useful!

Guest Post by Erin Jones: How To Write The Gayest Story In Your Heart

Though I would not recommend 2016 to my worst enemy (okay maybe one) it’s the year I hunkered down on my writing regime and in January 2017 I published my first novella, or novelette according to the ol’ Google, Truth Weekend! With equal parts sass, gay, and angst, Truth Weekend is a novelette told in vignettes about two rival women who escape for a weekend to make a college short film under the condition of sharing every secret, insecurity, and dark thought they’ve ever had. In a tale of sexuality, destruction, and truth, Skye and Rosemary discover what happens when you expose the darkest parts of yourself.

So to usher in 2018, The Year of The Queer, I wanted to break down how to write the gayest story possible in just three easy steps. Let’s go!

STEP 1: Throw out the idea that your story has to be groundbreaking, to warrant being written

So often, marginalized groups and communities are told that the only stories of ours worth telling are of the ones that paved the way. The rule breakers, the heroes, the ones that risked their lives. I appreciate those stories and they should be treated with the utmost respect and importance, but we need more. You don’t have to tell the story of the best gay that ever lived. The weight of the entire lgbt community is not solely on you.

Think about little lesbian Linda with green hair who makes pottery in her basement and is not very good at wizarding. Her story is significant if you want it to be. Bring Linda over here with her crusty clay hands and her horrendous form when slinging that wand around. She cute.

In a nutshell, dare to be horrible. Your first draft is going to be cringey, but that is what rewriting and editing is for. Sit down today, even if it’s only for thirty minutes, and write what’s true and ugly and everything that you’ve always wanted to say. Everything you’ve been scared to think. Everything you wish you could read. Its starts here.

STEP 2: Relish in queer intimacy

Oh no, this hotel room only has one bed! Gee I guess we should share it. And cuddle. AND confess our undying love.

In this gay and age, I for one am sick of subtext and our love being portrayed as merely pornographic or something that we’ll grow out of. I know, writing is a daunting task in and of itself with built in pressures and stigmas, so adding gay characters or themes may seem like even more of an anxiety parade, but I promise you there is someone who needs to get lost in your story and grand escapism is a marvelous coping mechanism.

Here’s another writing exercise: What is gay culture? Can you describe it? Give me a few examples or moments.

Last week I was riding in the car with my friend who is also bisexual and it was so nice to just cut to the chase about our feelings as two bi women. We expressed things that we may have moderated with our friends or people who aren’t bi so we don’t enforce a stereotype, because we’re constantly afraid we’re giving people the “wrong idea” about bisexuality. Then race came up and boy howdy did I have a lot to say about being black and bisexual.

See, it’s little scenes like this that I want to see in the world. You don’t have to hit your audience over the head with it. Or you can if you want to and your whole novel could take place in Pridelandia. It’s your book, dude.

Fear is going to creep in about seven times a day during the writing process and it can’t be stopped. You just have to unabashedly write the story you have in your heart no matter how vanilla or kinky. Normalization is a powerful thing.  

Wax poetic about the adorable guy at the library with wire frame glasses and obscene hands. Write about how your character can’t tell if her crush is a lesbian or just a hipster. Have an entire internal monologue or external soliloquy at a public pool about how you can’t tell if this person is flirting with you or it’s just in your head. What about a group of gay friends that have no desire to date each other? What about collecting an lgbt rainbow in the group? Or the mysterious case of someone in the friend group coming out every six months, because without even realizing it, we all seem to clump together. Just check my friend circle. It happens!

STEP 3: Be the gay you want to see in the world

If you’ve always wanted to read a story about XYZ, then write it! When you get the courage to tell people about your awesome story, there’s going to be that ass-basket that smiles and goes “Oh so it’s basically [insert popular book or movie here].” Ignore them. It’s not like that story because no one can tell your story like you. Everything on the page goes through your filter and is colored by your life experiences.

You’re not naïve if you want to write cute fluffy stories or an ideal. Not all lgbt lit has to be gritty or sad to be “realistic” or well written. It’s beyond okay if you write characters that just happen to be gay and have conflicts and successes that have nothing to do with their sexual orientation. Write about old gays, deaf gays, gays in wonderland, gays who stick their ankles in cabinets for science.

Here’s my favorite writing exercise for getting ideas in the page: Take the time to compile a list of all the things (gay and otherwise) that you love in a story visually, emotionally, and character wise.

If someone said “hey this book has xyz,” what are the things you would throw down good money to see in one place? This list could also be themes you would like to explore like: obsession, the loss of innocence, grief, preservation of youth, loneliness, the desire to escape, self-sabotage, ect. Whatever you’re interested in delving into and ripping apart.

I’ve always had a guilty pleasure for those wild teen movies where all the girls have kool-aid dyed hair and are out of their minds: stealing their weight in booze, self-piercing their everythings, burning money, and mixing Viagra with cocaine that they’ll snort at prom. But I’ve always wondered what happened to that girl and what happened to the artistic popular chick that was always at her neck with insults that’ll stick with you for the rest of your life. Thus, Truth Weekend (the novella and now the screenplay!) became the deconstruction and exploration of these strong personalities and all the complexities of your early 20s when there’s this societal push to be wise beyond our years, but also to be the ingénue. Through this I got to delve into the paranoia driven notion that you have to achieve everything right now or else you’re an unproductive failure and if you accomplish all that you’ve worked for at a later age it’s no longer as special.

To sum it up, just go balls to the wall. Throw your metaphorical word balls to the nearest wall. Or the farthest wall. And slowly work this list into your story. If you want to see it on the shelf or on the screen you have to sit down today and write.

Those are all my tips! I hope this helped or at least made you laugh. You can check out Truth Weekend here and follow my progress in writing the screenplay adaptation on my YouTube channel where I also post sketches and other writing videos.  My writing tumblr is @erinthewriter and my regular tumblr is @feelsandmermaids.

Happy Holidays, now go write!

[brilliantorinsane]

Sherlock Holmes, 1899: Detective 2.0 (Part 1)

Note: As always, please let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged :)

… Look, I said I wasn’t going to write about this one. And I know that it hardly counts as an. ‘obscure’ adaptation, although to be fair it doesn’t appear often in tumblr discussions. But Sherlock Holmes by William Gillette is the first ever licensed Holmes adaptation, so of course I had to read it, and then I had thoughts and—well, here we are.

This is the fourth installment of my series on obscure Sherlock Holmes adaptations. For a master-list of previous write-ups, see this post.

Production and Reception

William Gillette’s Sherlock Holmes exists in two primary iterations. The first is a play released in 1899 (you can read the script here), and the second is a 1916 silent-film starring several of the stage actors, including Gillette as Holmes. This post will discuss the play only; I will review the film in part 2.

The original script for Sherlock Holmes was written by Doyle, but his script was rejected and heavily reworked by William Gillette. Gillette’s script showcases an original plot, although it features Moriarty and Alice Falukner, a loose Irene Adler analogue. Disappointingly, the parallel between Alice and Irene is purely circumstantial: Alice has much of Irene’s courage but none of her active cleverness, and is reduced to a paper-thin damsel-in-distress. This is even more unfortunate given that—contrary to Doyle’s wishes—Gillette makes her Holmes’s love interest, thus initiating the hellish proliferation of Adler/Holmes storylines. So … thanks for that one, Gillette.

The play was wildly successful, and Alan Barns asserts that it has been “crucial to the development of Sherlock Holmes on film … [i]ts impact cannot be overestimated.” Even Doyle appears to have softened towards the play after seeing it performed, and is quoted by Vincent Starrett as saying: “I was charmed both with the play, the acting, and the pecuniary result." Whether Doyle was more pleased by the art or the currency is perhaps unclear.

For myself, insofar as it is the first Holmes adaptation I find this play fascinating; but insofar as it is just one of many retellings, my feelings are mixed. I confess I kept comparing it to Doyle’s stage adaptation of The Speckled Band (you can read the script here and my analysis here), and Gillette’s play seldom looked better for it. I found Doyle’s plot more compelling, his villain more threatening, and his characters more vibrant. All the same I was not bored reading Gillette’s play, got a few laughs, appreciated Gillette’s Watson and was intrigued—if not wholly pleased—by his Holmes.

But I hope you don’t think me terribly petty if I confess that I struggle to entirely forgive Gillette for launching the legacy of Holmes adaptations with a ‘straight’ Holmes.

William Gillette as Sherlock Holmes

There are things I quite like about Gillette’s Holmes. He is deeply composed, but fully capable of action and self-defense. He has plenty of snark, is openly affectionate with his Watson, yet is deeply troubled—he cannot be accused of being without feeling.

Nevertheless, I suspect that he played a large role in establishing the stereotype of the hard-boiled detective, the DFP, the detached and cold-hearted reasoning machine. Gillette consistently leans into Holmes darker and more reserved qualities: his Holmes is almost always composed and never excited—although he is often quietly amused—and there is little sense of his love for an audience. The extremity of his cocaine habit is emphasized, to the point that he is clearly suicidal—an aspect that is belabored rather frequently.

But the thing that really irks me is the case. The case is loosely based on A Scandal in Bohemia, in which Holmes is working for a prince in an attempt to gain incriminating letters/pictures from a woman. Scandal is an anomaly in the canon insofar as Holmes is not strictly on the side of justice—either in the audience’s eyes or his own—and yet goes through with it (x). This is distinctly unusual for a man who ordinarily allows nothing, including the law, to sway him from what he sees as true justice. And yet it is this dark deviation that Gillette chooses as the framework for presenting Holmes to a new and wider audience.

And look—there’s nothing wrong with exploring Holmes’s darker side. But I still struggle with the characterization on two levels:

I’m not saying the persistence of this darker Holmes in public imagination was Gillette’s fault; he’s hardly responsible for all adaptations that followed his. I just … I just would have liked the legacy of Holmes adaptations not to begin with a straight, hard(er)-hearted Holmes.

Frankly, I find the ‘borderline-cruel straight white guy is redeemed because a pretty young girl saw his secret golden heart’ plot infinitely more tired and less compelling than the complex, transgressive, damaged, but deeply kind character Doyle created.

Edward Fielding as John Watson

If Gillette perpetuated some of my least favorite Holmes stereotypes, on the whole the same cannot be said of his portrayal of Watson. Yes, Watson is sidelined to make room for Alice, and like the other characters in the script I found him a bit … flat. But he is never portrayed as a fool, his role was somewhat larger than I expected, his connection to Holmes is palpable, and if I had a checklist of characteristics a good Watson ought to posses, he would do a surprisingly good job checking them off.

The first thing we know of Watson is Holmes’s affection for him. The second is Watson’s protectiveness of Holmes as he expresses his distress over Holmes’s cocaine habit and the danger posed by Moriarty. We also get a sense of Watson’s attraction to danger when he observes, “this is becoming interesting,” as matters become tense.

My favorite moment, however, comes near the end when Watson is alone and  two false patients come in, attempting to set a trap for Holmes. Watson not only catches on to their facades immediately, he also notices that the blind had been raised when he briefly stepped out of the room. So thanks to Gillette’s script, we get to see Watson be clever, observant, and a great doctor all at once—a rare occurrence in early adaptations.

As much as I enjoy this scene, however, it also gets at my one major disappointment with Gillette’s Watson: although he is entirely capable, he is never given anything to do. In this instance, when Watson realizes his ‘patients’ are setting a trap he begins to act; but then Holmes appears and takes charge. Later Watson blocks the window and closes the blinds to avoid a signal being sent out to Moriarty—but only at Holmes’s instructions. And this, sadly, is the consistent pattern of the play.

In the end, I was left with a confusing dual sense that on the one hand Gillette seems to have a fairly good grasp of Watson and his capabilities, but on the other doesn’t really seem to know what to do with him. He seems to know that Watson is important, but not how he is important.

So … What About Johnlock?

After everything I’ve said, that’s clearly a hard ‘no,’ right? Well, sort of—they certainly aren’t riding off into the sunset together, but I still find myself with rather too much to say on this topic. To my mind, there are four categories worth touching on: a). The relative strength of the Holmes/Alice relationship vs the Holmes/Watson relationship, b). subtext carried over from Doyle’s stories, c). queer elements of the Holmes/Alice relationship, and d). assorted moments.

a). Holmes/Alice vs Holmes/Watson

Here’s the thing: my complaints about the Holmes/Alice romance aren’t just because Holmes is gay and in love with Watson. They are also because Gillette couldn’t have written more of a dime-a-dozen (+vaguely sexist) hetero romance if he tried. Here is a point-by-point summary of their ‘relationship’:

Holmes is on the point of further stripping agency away from a helpless girl who has been physically and psychologically abused for months.

Alice cries.

Holmes doesn’t do the cruel thing (he’s still planning to do it, but Alice doesn’t know).

They are now in love.

I’m not exaggerating here: in terms of length the above scene is hardly a blip in the play, and yet next time they see each other Alice is saying that if Holmes dies she wants to die too. Yep.

On the other hand, the relationship between Sherlock and Watson is established and their care for one another is palpable. Watson first appears immediately after Holmes refuses to see Mrs. Hudson, clearly wishing to be alone. But then his boy Billy comes up, and this exchange follows:

BILLY: It's Doctor Watson, sir. You told me as I could always show 'im up. HOLMES: Well! I should think so. (Rises and meets WATSON.) BILLY: Yes, sir, thank you, sir. Dr. Watson, sir! 

(Enter DR. WATSON. BILLY, grinning with pleasure as he passes in, goes out at once.) 

HOLMES (extending left hand to WATSON): Ah, Watson, dear fellow. WATSON (going to HOLMES and taking his hand): How are you, Holmes? HOLMES: I'm delighted to see you, my dear fellow, perfectly delighted, upon my word.

The affection, intimacy, eagerness for one another’s company, and trust evident in these first lines remains throughout the script, and puts Holmes and Alice’s hurried and stilted relationship to shame.

Ultimately Holmes marries Alice and Watson is sidelined, but the relationship between him and Watson remains the more palpable and affecting.

b). Subtext carried over from Doyle’s stories

There are at least two threads that are strongly reminiscent of subtextual cornerstones in Doyle’s canon. Perhaps they are intentional, or perhaps Gillette borrowed them from the stories/Doyle’s original script without reading them the way we do, but they exist nonetheless.

The first is Holmes’s cocaine use. In the canon Holmes occasionally claims that he uses drugs to escape the crushing boredom of inactivity between cases, but The Sign of Four in particular makes it clear that he also uses them for emotional comfort—specifically to cope with loosing Watson to Mary. A similar pattern is evident in Gillette’s play: his Holmes claims that the threat of Moriarty “saves me any number of doses of those deadly drugs,” and yet Watson points out that Holmes has been using the drugs “in ever-increasing doses” despite the fact that he has been engaged in his most all-consuming case—fighting Moriarty—for fourteen months. But the cause of Holmes’s increasing drug use and attendant suicidal depression is far less clear in here than it is in the canon.

Hollow as his semi-frequent ‘because I’m bored’ explanations ring in light of Moriarty, I am inclined to think Holmes is most honest near the end when describing his distress over his treatment of Alice:

HOLMES (turning suddenly to WATSON): Watson—she trusted me! She—clung to me! … and I was playing a game! … a dangerous game – but I was playing it! It will be the same to-night! She'll be there —I'll be here! She'll listen—she'll believe—and she'll trust me—and I'll—be playing—a game. No more – I've had enough! It's my last case!

To me this clearly reads as an ongoing distress which was brought to a head by Holmes’s association with Alice rather than originating with it—“I’ve had enough! It’s my last case” indicates that the dilemma is linked to Holmes’s work as a whole, not the affair with Alice particularly. The surface (and likely intended) reading of this is that the work was a decent antidote for boredom for a time, but was ultimately too empty of real connection to be fulfilling in the long term, resulting in Holmes’s ultimate spiral into depression.

However, it also works surprisingly well for a queer reading: Holmes’s prior life was in some way a facade, “a dangerous game” perhaps involving the ongoing deception of someone he cared about. Interesting ...

A queer reading of his deterioration is further supported by the fact that Watson is married in this story. While we don’t now how long he has been married, one wonders whether his absence might coincide with the increase in Holmes’s drug habits—it seems possible that Gillette recognized the link between cocaine and Watson’s marriage in the cannon and intended committed fans to likewise make the connection in the play.

Another interesting moment comes when Holmes is lamenting ‘the good old days,’ and in theory he is complaining about the un-originality of criminals. But although he begins by speaking of what “I” used to do, later he slips into “we.” Is he really missing the old days of criminal creativity, or is he missing the time when he had a constant companion to share them with?

In short, although Gillette is likely appropriating the cocaine and never-quite-explained melancholy of the canon merely to portray Holmes having a mid-life crisis, it works surprisingly well—and in my opinion more compellingly—to read it as the fallout from the loss of his companion for whom he had socially inadmissible feelings which kept him playing a duplicitous game. (Unfortunately the side-effect of this reading might be that the solution is for Holmes to step out of the ‘dangerous game,’ leaving his old life in Baker Street in literal ashes, and into the clear light of a heterosexual relationship, which is, uh … Wrong).

One other brief matter of note: to my great amusement this play also joins canon in playing the game of the vanishing wife. Watson has scarcely entered the story before Holmes comments on Mary’s (timely as ever) absence on “a little visit,” and near the end we discover that Holmes and Watson have planned a trip to the continent (!). How long is the trip? Is Mary coming? Does she have other plans? How does she feel about her husband gallivanting off to another country with a man pursued by a master criminal??? Meh. Who knows.

Miss Plot Device does, however, appear briefly and silently offstage when Watson wants Holmes to peek in at her for a quick lesson on domesticity.

c). Queer elements of the Holmes/Alice relationship

We’ve established that their relationship is as dime-a-dozen and cringey as literary relationships come. However, in the final scenes Holmes has admitted his affection for her to Watson but believes he must set them aside for the following reasons:

HOLMES: That girl!—young—exquisite—just beginning her sweet life—I—seared, drugged, poisoned, almost at an end! No! no! I must cure her! I must stop it, now—while there's time!

And again, when Alice has confessed her love for him:

HOLMES: no such person as I should ever dream of being a part of your sweet life! It would be a crime for me to think of such a thing! There is every reason why I should say good-bye and farewell! There is every reason—

So essentially, he sees his love for almost as some sort of disease, even a crime, something that would endanger the one he loves, that he ought to resist for their sake; only he is quite wrong and that love is in fact the way to happiness for them both … Hmm. Well then.

d). Assorted

There were a few moments in the script which do not fit within a wider thematic arc, but which I couldn’t go without mentioning.

1. Upon Watson’s first appearance, Holmes greets him and then says:

HOLMES: I'm delighted to see you, my dear fellow, perfectly delighted, upon my word—but—I'm sorry to observe that your wife has left you in this way.

Okay, so Mary has only left for a visit and is back the next day, but is it just me or did Holmes make it sound like she’d left Watson for good?? Because if that was intentional, that a first-class Petty Gay antic.

2. The cocaine scene near the beginning ends with these line:

WATSON (going near HOLMES—putting hand on HOLMES' shoulder) Ah Holmes—I am trying to save you. HOLMES (earnest at once—places right hand on WATSON'S arm): You can't do it, old fellow—so don't waste your time.

Partly I’m just struck by the tenderness of the moment, which is heightened by the stage directions. But I also wonder—why couldn’t Watson save Holmes when Alice presumably can? Apparently Holmes needs romantic affection to move forward. If he believed that Watson was capable of offering him that, would Gillette’s Holmes accept it?

3. In a confrontation with the criminals, one of them reveals that they struck Watson at an earlier stage of the conflict. Holmes’s response?

HOLMES (to ALICE without turning—intense, rapid): Ah!

(CRAIGIN stops dead.) 

HOLMES: Don't forget that face. (Pointing to CRAIGIN.) In three days I shall ask you to identify it in the prisoner's dock.

Its not necessarily romantic, but I can’t pass over protective!Holmes, especially given its slight Garridebs vibe. I also can’t resist mentioning that this bit all but interrupts the first clearly romantic moment between Holmes and Alice.

4. Near the end, when Moriarty is captured and spewing threats of revenge, he declares that Holmes will encounter his retribution during his planned trip to the continent with Watson. Ever the optimist, Watson suggests that they cancel the trip, but Holmes replies:

It would be quite the same. What matters it here or there—if it must come.

There is nothing strange in the moment; what is curious is that, for all Holmes’s fears about the damage a relationship with Alice might do her, the very real threat of Moriarty is never mentioned. Realistically this is likely a bit of sloppy writing, and yet the resultant image of an omnipotent web (and yes, the spider’s web metaphor is used for Moriarty in the play) which will inescapably pursue Holmes and Watson wherever they flee and yet leaves the appropriately heterosexual Holmes at Alice alone is, um, Really Something.

5. Finally, as I wrap up I cannot resist calling your attention to a number of lines and stage directions which are (almost definitely) meaningless in context, but out of context are too delightfully gay to ignore. Here they are, presented entirely without context for your viewing pleasure:

HOLMES: Mrs. Watson! Home! Love! Life! Ah, Watson!

HOLMES: I must have that. (Turns away towards WATSON.) I must have that.

HOLMES: (Saunters over to above WATSON'S desk.)

HOLMES: Why, this is terrible! (Turns back to WATSON. Stands looking in his face.)

… I’ll just leave those there.

After everything, the question of whether Gillette might have seen or suspected a romance between Holmes and Watson is unresolved. For myself, I vacillate regularly on how likely I think it is. This excellent post gets into why it is quite likely that Gillette may at the least have seen Holmes and Watson's relationship as a homoerotic (but strictly sexless and ultimately woman-mediated) friendship. Thus at minimum he could have intended to hint at the pain of moving away from such a deeply bonded friendship. From there it is not difficult to imagine the that he could have speculated the possibility that something in their relationship or desires moved beyond what was acceptable in Victorian society. Even if he did  there remain two very distinct possibilities: a). That he was secretly supportive and despite protecting himself with a socially acceptable paring tried to hint at the pain of a forbidden love and even queer-coded the heterosexual resolution, or b). That he saw himself as ‘saving’ Holmes from ‘self-destructive game’ of his old love, redeeming him through the all-healing power of heterosexuality (ugh).

On the other hand, there is also a highly eminent possibility that I’m just looking too hard, and nothing I thought I might see was intended to mean anything in that way.

Ultimately, at this stage my only conclusion is that the evidence is inconclusive. But I will say this: regardless of intention, the relationship between Holmes and Watson remains the strongest and most poignant in the play, and faithfulness to elements of the cannon results in moments that sure do make it look like something is up. If nothing else, that made me smile.

Conclusion: Should You Read It?

Well, it depends on what you’re looking for. If you’re looking for a particularly compelling/unique/vibrant take on Sherlock Holmes, or even just a story with a thrilling plot, intriguing concepts, and living characters, this isn’t a bad choice—but you could do better. (This is where I remind you that Doyle’s play, The Adventure of the Speckle Band, is genuinely excellent). But if you’re looking for an entertaining play which also happens to be the first Sherlock Holmes adaptation in existence and which had an enormous impact on every adaptation that came after—then yeah. Go read it. It’s right here! Have fun! And if you post about it, whoever you are, I would deeply appreciate a tag :)

@devoursjohnlock​ @thespiritualmultinerd​ @a-candle-for-sherlock​ @ellinorosterberg​ @cuttydarke​ @inevitably-johnlocked​ @alemizu​ @astronbookfilms​ @battledress​ @disregardedletters​ @materialof1being​ @sarahthecoat​ @spenglernot​ @authordrawingmusic​ @hewascharming​ @infodumpingground @rsfcommonplace @the-elephant-is-pink​ @johnhedgehogwatson​ @lokis-warrior-queen @sonnet59​ @sherlocks-final-resolve-is-love​ @artemisastarte​ @tjlcisthenewsexy​ @nottoolateforthegame​

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How Mulan Maintains The Animated Film’s Queerness

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This piece contains spoilers for Disney’s Mulan. Read our spoiler-free review here.

More than any of the previous six Disney live-action remakes, Mulan requires the greatest narrative leap from fans of the animated original: The remake has done away with the iconic musical numbers, wisecracking dragon Mushu, and fan favorite Captain Li Shang, who is considered by many to be a bisexual icon for his clear attraction to both Ping (Mulan, pretending to be a man) and Mulan. Instead, perhaps in order to separate out the love interest from the potentially problematic power dynamic, Niki Caro’s 2020 adaptation, which now available to watch for no additional fee for Disney+ subscribers, splits Shang into two characters: father figure Commander Tung (Donnie Yen) and fellow recruit Chen Honghui (Yoson An).

Not surprisingly, breaking out the two major aspects of Shang’s character into separate personas dilutes Hua Mulan’s (Yifei Liu) relationship with each of them. But what’s interesting is that the queer subtext that Disney fans have always seen in Shang doesn’t disappear—it also gets split across two (different) characters. At various points in the film, both love interest Honghui and antagonist Xianniang (Gong Li) engage Mulan based on what is perceived as her same-sex identity: the young soldier with his peer Hua Jun, and the warrior witch with potential ally Mulan. The ways in which each character recognizes and accepts a forbidden aspect of Mulan’s identity (disguising herself as a man to train, and her affinity for qi) read as extremely queer.

The Loss of Li Shang

The decision to separate Li Shang into two roles was in direct response to the #MeToo movement, as producer Jason Reed explained to Collider. Describing the thought process behind developing the story for the live-action remake, he said: “I think particularly in the time of the #MeToo movement, having a commanding officer that is also the sexual love interest was very uncomfortable and we didn’t think it was appropriate.”

And so, the live-action Mulan ages up Commander Tung (Donnie Yen), making him a surrogate father to Mulan-as-Hua-Jun. Having fought alongside her father, Hua Zhou, Tung recognizes in this young soldier a warrior’s spirit, and an affinity for qi. He encourages Mulan-as-Hua-Jun to further develop her qi rather than hiding it, affectionately chiding her. That fatherly concern only amplifies Mulan’s guilt over not honoring the virtue of trueness, allowing Tung to see what he wants to see and earning his respect through that deception.

But because these are the only conversations that Mulan-as-Hua-Jun and Tung have, their dynamic start to feel repetitive. There is absolutely no doubt that the moment Mulan reveals the truth about who she is, Commander Tung will turn on her. His respect and affection only extends to a male soldier, because he can only think in the abstract about notions of truth and honor.

While the producers approached these changes with good intentions, their decision nonetheless very much misses the point of the toxic behaviors that #MeToo advocates seek to expose. The movement is concerned with abuses of power, e.g., for a commanding officer to use their authority to force their subordinate into a nonconsensual sexual situation. What the animated Mulan presented (and what the live-action movie could have recreated without becoming problematic) was the nuanced portrayal of a captain, used to holding himself apart from his recruits, struggling with an attraction to a soldier who looked to him for both his marching orders and for camaraderie during wartime.

The Queer Subtext of Li Shang

Mulan being a Disney property, Li Shang’s (BD Wong) queerness is a matter of viewers reading into subtext. But watch “I’ll Make a Man Out of You” and tell me it’s not the emotional journey of a man recognizing his attraction to this scrappy soldier. The first time Mulans-as-Ping manages to actually knock Shang down, prompting that wondering smile from her leader, is not only a moment of triumph for Mulan, but a revelation for Shang, as well: As Ping proves his worth over the course of the song, Shang realizes that not only does he respect this young warrior, but he might also like him.

Part of the tension between Shang and Mulan-as-Ping is that the captain takes pains to not get close to his subordinates. This is due in large part to the chip on Shang’s shoulder, the fear that he only got his military posting because of his father, General Li. The Emperor’s advisor Chi-Fu on more than one occasion accuses Shang of benefiting from nepotism. “I’ll Make a Man Out of You” clearly draws a dividing line between Ping and the other soldiers commiserating over their rough training, and a shirtless Shang putting them through their paces. The moments in which Ping’s actions or comments break through Shang’s facade are significant because Ping gets past those emotional defenses. 

First it’s by succeeding in the training montage, proving that Shang is a valuable leader; after all, a captain is only as good as his worst recruit. Even so, it is not until the loss of his father and Mulan’s bravery against the Huns at Tung Shao Pass that Shang finally makes himself vulnerable. “Ping, you are the craziest man I ever met,” Shang says, “and for that I owe you my life. From now on, you have my trust.”

Opening up like that, rare and hard-earned for a man like Shang, is what makes the reveal of Mulan’s deception so devastating. Yet this is the point at which many queer fans interpret Shang as bisexual or pansexual: He saves Mulan’s life rather than follow the law and kill her; and while he claims that he is simply offering “a life for a life” and repaying his debt, he clearly has feelings for her. The revelation that she is a woman only complicates those feelings. 

Mulan possesses the same cleverness and courage, the qualities that attracted him to Ping; now she’s just in the form of a socially acceptable love interest. The person has not changed, only the social circumstances surrounding the situation. It is this truth upon which Mulan ultimately convinces Shang to help her at the Imperial City: “You said you’d trust Ping,” she challenges him. “Why is Mulan any different?”

Those tensions are what, if you’ll excuse the pun, animate the relationship between Mulan and Shang in the 1998 film. The live-action remake erases that distance by having Honghui literally be in the trenches with Mulan-as-Hua-Jun—and reverses their dynamic, while retaining the queer subtext.

Honghui as Mulan’s 2020 Love Interest

Honghui is the one who gets past Mulan’s emotional defenses—not deliberately, but simply by dint of them being fellow recruits. The men are crammed into one tent as sleeping quarters (there are some cute moments of Mulan dodging soldiers who like to cuddle in their sleep) and train together all day, sparring and sweating in each other’s personal space. Even more than that, Honghui is intrigued by the taciturn Hua Jun: by his initial stiffness and eagerness to take on guard duty rather than join the others in the showers, and by his defense of one of the men mooning over a drawing of his matched sweetheart.

“Honghui and Mulan start off on the wrong foot in the conscription camp,” An explained in interviews prior to the film’s release, “but throughout the journey of the training, Honghui kind of sees something in Mulan that [the] other boys don’t. It’s that leadership quality, and the perseverance, and how composed she is, really. So he sees something in her that he goes, ‘Yeah, there’s something special about this young dude.’”

A line like that could be read as queer or not depending on one’s perspective. Bustle did ask An if he were ready to become an LGBTQ icon, as Li Shang’s successor, and he said, “I am.” Yet despite it being 2020, none of this is spoken about overtly. It’s still a matter of reading into the movie’s subtext… so, let’s do just that.

In place of “I’ll Make a Man Out of You” is a training scene in which Honghui and Hua Jun spar as equals, both of them learning the moves together. If anything, Mulan demonstrates her superiority when Honghui goads her into using her qi to wipe the smirk off his face. That scene, with its physicality and sense of playfulness, is very much the same vibe as Shang’s stunned smile when he gets Mulan’s foot to his face in “I’ll Make a Man Out of You.”

A significant and welcome change, however, is the bathing scene. In the animated movie, it’s played for laughs, with Mulan sneaking away to the water and instead getting confronted with all of her fellow soldiers’ nakedness. That awkward interaction happens in the tent in the live-action movie; when Mulan-as-Hua-Jun steals away to take a solo dip, it’s Honghui she runs into.

Shang would never deign to bathe with his trainees, but Honghui doesn’t have that hang-up. His ease around Hua Jun is the same as in the tent a few scenes prior, when they had a heart-to-heart about Honghui’s nervousness about talking to potential matches. “Talk to her like you’re talking to me,” Mulan had advised him about women; but when they’re treading water together, Honghui amiably close, she’s the one who’s tense and nervous—about her secret getting revealed, obviously, but also regarding her growing attraction to him.

Of course, she combats this by being brusque; when Honghui asks if they can be friends, she responds, “I’m not your friend.” He takes this in stride: “Very well, but you are my equal. We fight together against the same enemy. I will do all I can to protect the others. You can turn your back on me, but when the time comes, do not turn your back on them.” He consistently surprises her by respecting her boundaries, while still challenging her to see herself as part of this army. He engages her sensitively and candidly, because he thinks he’s talking to another man; if he knew she were a woman, he’d get tongue-tied. Together, they can speak freely and, despite her disguise, be genuine and true with one another.

Still, the dynamic doesn’t quite meet the standard of Shang, because Honghui doesn’t have to grapple with the dilemma of rank and power; the producers sanded off those edges. What’s more, the pivotal why-trust-Mulan moment in the live-action version is given to Honghui, changing the mood of that scene: When she returns to the Imperial army—despite Commander Tung’s threat to murder her if he saw her again—to warn them about the Rourans attacking the Imperial City, at first no one will hear her. Then Honghui speaks up: “You would believe Hua Jun. Why do you not believe Hua Mulan?”

What follows is a tonally odd, Spartacus-esque gesture of all of Hua Jun’s friends proclaiming, “I believe Hua Mulan.” The moment, intended to be inspirational, comes off as emotionally uneven because it takes the words out of Mulan’s mouth; yet it gives Honghui the conviction that Shang lacked. This love interest doesn’t seem that bothered that the soldier in whom he saw a kindred spirit turned out to be a woman; making the leap from Hua Jun to Hua Mulan seems to have been much easier for him. Just like the guarantee that Tung would turn on her, it’s taken for granted that Honghui will support her—both changes erasing the key conflict at the heart of Li Shang.

The Queer Subtext of Mulan and Xianniang

Mulan’s scenes with Xianniang, by contrast, are as multifaceted as the many points of connection between the two women.  The Rouran warrior witch reflects potential fates for Mulan: a girl exiled from her village for her use of qi; an older woman who carves out her place in the world (until she gives up trying); a would-be ally and mentor. In that last respect, perhaps, she has more in common with Li Shang than Honghui does. Like the captain, she initially strives to keep her distance from Mulan, but cannot resist engaging with her—first to taunt her for her deception, but later to offer an alliance, and ultimately to help her.

If you’re watching their four pivotal interactions—each of which directly affects the tide of their war—as a queer person, you may read a particular tension, beyond that of two opposing fighters, into these scenes. How Xianniang casually strokes Mulan’s sword in one moment, only for it to slice her hand in the next. The withering impatience she has for the younger woman’s subterfuge—telling her that her deceit poisons her qi, which she should be strengthening instead—and the tender empathy with which she regards her counterpart after Commander Tung casts her out. The conviction with which she says, “We are the same” and “Join me” and “We will take our place together.” Yes, she’s talking about them reshaping society through their fury and their power… but there is such emotional depth to those words that she has to be talking about more than that.

Disney has an unfortunate history of coding most of its villains as queer, at best playing into offensive stereotypes and at worst ascribing monstrous qualities to seemingly LGBTQ+ characters. As SYFY Wire describes, those biases translate into male villains coming off more effeminate than hyper-masculine heroes, and female villains who lack the scruples of wholesome Disney heroines, instead actively corrupting princesses and anyone else in their path.

Never does Xianniang try to corrupt Mulan; instead, she urges the younger woman to remove her disguise and be true, echoing exactly what Mulan wants for herself. Her offer for Mulan to join her side comes out of a legitimate desire to reshape the world; unfortunately, Xianniang has only known violence, so that is the only way she can envision change. And when Mulan refuses, but still winds up targeted by Böri Khan, Xianniang takes the arrow meant for her and dies in her arms with a heartfelt final blessing to “take your place, Mulan.” This narrative choice is problematic on its own, for invoking the trope of Bury Your Gays—but at this point, can’t we agree that it’s incredibly queer?

Honghui’s journey (mirroring Shang’s) is in realizing that Mulan is everything he could want in a woman, while recognizing that he was already attracted to those qualities when he thought she was a man. Xianniang is never fooled by Hua Jun; she always sees Mulan clearly as who she is, and (like Shang) crosses the distance between them to celebrate every single aspect of Mulan’s personality that society would punish her for. It would seem that she is truly the one who sees something that no one else does.

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Mulan is available now on Disney+.

The post How Mulan Maintains The Animated Film’s Queerness appeared first on Den of Geek.

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