#watching a show that the first season had complicated characters and authentic portrayals of culture

[yay-depression]

absolutely hate how you can see small projects that get popular are taken over and ruined

[cripplinganxietyflix]

GUEST FEATURE: STRANGER THINGS 2

(This review was contributed by Mark B. If you are interested in becoming a contributing reviewer, drop me a message and we’ll chat. If you’re a friend and are interested in participating in upcoming video reviews, please let me know.)

The recent, much-anticipated release of Stranger Things 2 conflicted me as a viewer, a fan, and an endorser of the "Indie-meets-mainstream" ethos that Netflix claims to have cornered the market on.  Contrary to almost every other global giant in the entertainment industry, Netflix had promised a hands-off approach in their content development, allowing directors and real fans of niche genre to produce compelling, organic love affairs with their subject matter.  It was in this time that Stranger Things was released.

Stranger Things was an unpretentious, genuine nostalgiafest from real 80s movie nerds who aimed not for the gimmicky "80s throwback" references that your brother's frat based theme parties on, but that gorgeous, inspiring sense of wonder and charm that 80s cinema made us feel, which is so frequently missing in modern entertainment.  Stranger Things was perfectly cast and written, using its setting admirably to incorporate just the right amount of campiness to feel like an 80s piece but still be taken seriously as a narrative.  The characters were compelling, developed, and perfectly weaved together a story that, despite being just close enough to 80s prototypes to solicit Goonies and E.T. nostalgia, never felt gimmicky or redundant.  Most importantly, however, it had soul.  The Duffer Brothers had struck a nerve that had been eluding directors for decades by making a throwback series that held its own weight; using its 80s setting perfectly to tell a deep story, to develop distinguished characters, and most importantly, to not feel like a B-movie or a cheap gimmick.  You get the feeling that this might have been what Ghostbusters could have looked and felt like if they had the benefit of modern CGI effect techniques (not to mention the young, energetic cast, all of whom seemed to be born to play their parts).

In the years that have followed since Netflix began producing its own content, sometime after the honeymoon phase had ended, Netflix lost sight of what had made their renaissance so endearing in the first place.  Daredevil evolved from a promising show to one about a bland, blind ninja with a flat personality; complete with forced, cheesy dialogue from most of its supporting cast, writing that was hellbent on attempting, in vain, to make Elektra an important part of the storyline, and saved only by the introduction of the Punisher.  Netflix had turned it's Marvel contract into 4 separate shows, which seemed to clunkily step on each others' toes (with the exception of Luke Cage) and drove the whole arc into a forced team-up series.  They bought up contracts for cancelled or struggling quality shows, for better or worse and it was a fun to catch up with the Sunnyvale crew and the Bluth family, but these were less “Original Programming,” rather only further franchise buy-ups.  Some of the earlier programming was still going strong, but whether it was disappointing follow-up seasons, forced character entrances, or just the sheer volume of shit that they collectively threw against the wall to see what would stick, Netflix seemed to have lost its soul.  Cue Stranger Things 2.

After initially viewing the trailer, I was excited to see how things had progressed in Hawkins, as the original series had left a lot to be answered, and Stranger Things 2 had the potential to be exactly what I was looking for.  The immediate, impulsive, antagonistic side of me was a little worried about the chosen title for season 2- "Stranger Things 2".  It felt like it was immediately treating itself as if it were a sequel film, rather than allowing itself to be a continuation of an already well-established narrative.  Was it a reference to 80s films, which felt entirely comfortable with slapping a numeral on the back of a film title for its later installments without supplementing the title with anything new?  I was conflicted.  I existed somewhere between fanboy and skeptic.  

I was wrong for feeling this way, as I often am.

Stranger Things 2 is a sequel film, and that is a beautiful thing.  The scope of everything; cinematography, story, cast, antagonist, character depth, everything is far larger in scope. The vision for the sequel is unbelievably vast; complete with gorgeous, wide-shot cinematography, two new antagonists that are justifiable and brutal and exist on different planes, and character development and interactions that would have seemed impossible in the first season but work perfectly here.  

The Upside Down is now ruled by a much larger, more menacing creature as experienced only through the often misunderstood eyes of Will and Eleven, until it is much too late for those who cannot see what they do, and Hawkins High is now ruled by a newcomer who is constantly punking and abusing our beloved cast, including dethroning the last installment's antagonist-turned-hero, Steve Harrington.  The Party has a new female inductee, and while she is charming and interesting in her own right, more importantly, she illuminates the jealous characteristics of Eleven as the duality of her vigilant psychic vs. coming-of-age pre-teen hemispheres of personality begins to take hold and develop.  Sean Astin plays a new love interest for Joyce, who is seeking a stable relationship, seemingly due to the trauma that unfolded for her family in season one.  The casting choice here is an interesting one, (Sean Astin being of 'The Goonies' fame), but he quickly establishes himself as an important character in both the storyline and the lives of the Byers family.  His addition doesn't feel forced, and The Goonies references (which I'd assume took some restraint to not go overboard with) are used sparingly, and subtle enough that they feel more like easter eggs than distractions.  Among the many strong points of Stranger Things 2 is the fact that even though everything has grown so much, there is still a quaint, small-town, 80s vibe throughout its entirety.  The growth in scope has not resulted in a loss of detail or a cheapening of character. Despite its lofty vision, the story remains intact and organic.

The storytelling is, again, top notch.  The use of foreshadowing is weaved deeply enough into the fabric of the story as to not render it predictable, but rather to impress repeat viewers.  There is a give and take in their choice to (or not to) satisfy the viewers' obvious desires.  Most notably, the choice to keep Joyce and Hopper from pursuing a romantic relationship- which would have been predictable but may have scored points with the casual viewer.  Instead, Joyce has found love elsewhere, and the dynamic of her relationship is more complicated but ultimately rewarding. It serves as a good contrast with other decisions that are included in the narrative.  Pop culture references are incorporated in naturally throughout the story arc- the right characters are obsessive about the Ghostbusters release, and exchange authentic dialogue about it.  The video games referenced are chronologically relevant and serve as literary devices.  The use of Dungeons and Dragons is both relevant to the story and a clever allegory for it as well.  Character development exceeds expectations, and unlikely character arcs and alliances dominate the storyline.  These are better than I could ever have imagined in both their usage and their actual portrayal by the cast, whose performances were generally impressive and even awe-inspiring. 

  In a market where movies and TV shows are perpetually getting bigger and louder (and simultaneously more sterile and lifeless), Stranger Things 2 shines brightly.  If all is right with the world, it should be the gold standard for sequel seasons of series that have already captured your heart.  It is quintessential "watching a loved one grow up, but stay true to themselves" cinema.  It is bigger, better, more in-depth, but consistent with the first season all the same.  It feels like one of the few Netflix follow-ups to truly meet audience expectations faithfully.  It is easy to fall in love with the entirety of Hawkins, Indiana, because the creators themselves are, too.

[muntadern-blog]

Blog I: Narcos

Narcos is an American crime drama taking place in Columbia and Mexico, depending on the season. Through this blog I will be discussing the cultural implications of the first two seasons of Narcos that follows the infamous Pablo Escobar’s rise and fall in Columbia from the perspective of two American Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) agents who try to hunt him down. Narcos was a show that I enjoyed and watched avidly, but when I investigated further I realized that the reason it appealed to me was that it affirmed my understanding of the stereotypes of Latin America that I am familiar with. The show feels authentic, with a lot of dialogue in Spanish and fashionable clothes, beautiful and hip music. What I took from Narcos was an appreciation for what I thought was an introduction to a piece of Latin culture, but through research I recognized that I was experiencing the commercialized aspects of the story, and what felt like an Authentic portrayal of culture was an Americanized stereotype of Columbian culture and history.

The history of Columbia is used as a plot line to propel the drama of the series, and explained by the primary narrator of the show, Steve Murphy. Murphy is a white American man who began his career with the DEA in Miami and finds himself in Colombia tracking down Pablo Escobar. Murphy takes the role of a bird’s eye view narrator, almost as an objective third party bystander to Pablo Escobar’s career. The implication that Murphy’s perspective is objective or reliable reflects an imperialist attitude of a foreign American hero. Murphy makes comments about Columbia and its culture with no acknowledgement from the show about the narrowness of his perspective of the country, as a foreigner who doesn’t speak the language and hasn’t spent very long understanding the country itself. The one dimensional view of South America held by American audiences is similar to the attitude of the audience in Gomez-Pena’s performance art. The history of Columbia depicted in Narcos is also faulty. Narcos implies that the CIA was involved in the pursuit of Pablo Escobar after his escape from his self-built prison, La Catedral. In reality,  the CIA was overseeing cartel operations years before. The depiction of Pablo Escobar was criticized for feeling one-dimensional and was clearly skewed to appeal to American audiences. I enjoyed the depiction of a clearly conflicted man, and found myself empathizing with him, but I also saw stereotypes attached to his character. One of the conflicts in his career was his foray into politics, which I felt that Narcos acknowledged but with a tone that was condescending, and described with little empathy. The mixed legacy of Escobar as remembered by Colombians, especially those from his home city of Medellin, was not explained convincingly. The viewer was left with little ambiguity that Escobar was a villain in Columbia's history. Escobar’s personality was also depicted as a macho Latino charicature displaying little depth or empathy, an arguably American perspective on a complicated Colombian character. Another cultural controversy related to Narcos comes from the talent invited to act in the show, many of whom are not natively Colombian. This impacts the realism of the show when the Escobar himself is played by a natively Brazilian actor who attempts the infamous man’s Medellin accent, but struggles to make it sounds genuine. Escobar’s wife is portrayed by a Mexican actress whose accent is clearly recognizable as non-Colombian. To many, this demonstrated that the production of the show was for an American audience who would likely not recognize erroneous Spanish accents.

The idea put forth by Narcos to portray Columbia is clearly U.S.-centric, positioning extradition as a fundamental fear of the Narco. Additionally, the portrayal of Columbia as a place that was inherently exotic and filled with evil, as shown in the line “God created Colombia and made it so beautiful, he had to fill it with bad people.” (S1, E1) The idea that Columbia is filled with bad people, or those that avenge their crimes, negates the average and comfortable citizens that reside peacefully there. Those that raise their children, build communities, and live their lives; This is shown through the character development in the show implicating Escobar’s brother-in-law as a criminally involved cartel member when in reality he worked as an architect. Attached is an advertisement for the show, seemingly likening all of Latin America to murderous drug infested country created out of cocaine. Narcos had the opportunity to educate a foreign audience with the beauty and complexity of Columbian history and culture, but instead it is a lesson on the American perspectives and misconceptions relating to Columbia’s history. 

Takaki, Ronald T., 1939-2009. A Different Mirror: A History of Multicultural America. New York: Back Bay Books/Little, Brown, and Co., 2008.

Gibson, Sarah. "Narcos: How It's Just Another Form Of Cultural Imperialism." Highsnobiety. N.p., 2016. Web. 21 July 2019.

Busse, Kristina. "Magical Realism And Fictional Verisimilitude In Medellín | Antenna." Blog.commarts.wisc.edu. N.p., 2015. Web. 21 July 2019.

[365daysoflesbians]

JANUARY 18: The L-word premieres! LBPQ women in media (1/2)

This is the first part of a two-part article we’ll be publishing today on the evolution of the representation of lesbian, bi, pan, and more broadly queer women in media & pop culture, on the occasion of the premieres of two TV series: The L-word, which premiered in 2004 and ran for 6 seasons, and Her Story, which premiered in 2016, one year ago. The two share similarities, and present several significant differences. Taken together, they may represent an evolution in the way queer women are portrayed in media.

Regardless of whether you liked The L-word (or even bothered watching it at all), no one can deny it had a major impact on a whole generation of women growing up queer in the US in the early 2000s. Let me quickly remind you of the premise, if you’ve never watched it, or got into it: Jenny Schecter moves to LA to be with her boyfriend, meets a group of friends – all lesbian or bi women – and subsequently & promptly heads to the dark side discovers a few truths about herself (namely, that she’s an awful person she’s absolutely of the lesbian persuasion).

For many, watching The L-word was the first time they saw lesbians on TV, and moreover, lesbians who were actually acknowledged as such, whose lesbian-ness was not subsumed under euphemisms and queercoding, and still more revolutionary – lesbians who were just kind of… doing stuff. You know, being portrayed as regular people. Hanging out, talking, going to work, quarreling, expressing doubts and emotions. There were plenty of sex scenes, but these were usually filmed in a way that attempted to normalize lesbian sex (it’s not that complicated! scissoring is a boring trope!) but also tried to avoid catering to a male audience that would (and continues to) fetishize lesbians. More or less subconsciously, it codes lesbian sexuality as more adventurous and fulfilling, in opposition, notably, to mainstream (and representations that see lesbian sexuality as something opaque, mysterious, and fundamentally incomplete. There were also healthy and unhealthy relationships, showing the complexity of lesbian and bisexual relationships for women.  

However, as numerous critics and articles have pointed, this representation is highly flawed and restrictive. The portrayal of two Latina characters (who aren’t even played by Latina actresses!) as mostly props to advance the narrative and emotional development of the white characters reprises stereotypes generally associated to Latina women (hyper-sexual, exotic). More generally, whiteness seems to be the norm on the show, even though we’re in LA and the idea that all lesbians, in LA or elsewhere, are white and relatively well-off seems just plain ridiculous. The depiction of trans characters was also a glaring failure, in particular with Max’s transition (from butch lesbian Moira to straight male Max) being ridiculed, and equated to a desire to assimilate within heterosexual culture. Even the portrayal of gender-non-conforming woman is ambiguous – their perceived butchness is apparently a clear indicator of their sexuality; yet most of the main characters tend to be associative with feminine normativity. Gender keeps being represented in an essentialist manner, even when characters like drag king Ivan Aycock or androgynous Shane shake up gender presentation categories. And when it comes to the portrayal of femininity, it seems the show privileged the portrayal of femme women, or “lipstick lesbians” whose femininity corresponds to contemporary beauty norms and whose bodies are often sexualized, whether on the show or in promo material. This begs the question: doesn’t this overwhelming representation of femininity correspond to certain marketing imperatives that still submit to the patriarchal gaze? In short, why so many ‘beautiful’ femmes, if not to, subconsciously, conform & appeal to straight norms?

Obviously, there’s economic reasons to this. Had this been a show with more accurate/realistic/authentic representation, it may not have benefited from such a following, because of market diktats. All in all, this is a complex, heterogeneous show. It’s far from perfect, but it did help create a kind of ‘lesbian gaze’ by striving to put the audience in the lesbian characters’ shoes – the result was meant to be, if not identification, at least acknowledgment and revelation of the lesbian experience(s) within society. But this was back in 2004-2010. What has changed, within a decade?

- AK