#which is part of why I reenact british

[thebaffledcaptain]

I’m going to sound like a filthy british bastard by saying this but one of the things I think turns me away from this heavily fandomized tumblrification of the american revolution is genuinely the lack of british perspectives. I obviously don’t fault tumblr for this being the case (it goes without saying that it is a far deeper issue than just that… cough cough american nationalism and exceptionalism and the effect that has on the media) but in spaces like this there really just isn’t… any nuance at all to this conflict which was so undeniably nuanced in so many ways. it’s all about gay founding fathers and cool spies which. I understand the appeal but at a certain point I’m genuinely not sure how much of it we can call history

[diocletianscabbagefarm]

There are honestly so many fundamental things about Ridley Scott's Napoleon I disliked, I hardly know where to start so here's just a couple things that popped into my head. All of the disappointed/angry reviews I saw really were on the money with their criticisms. Below the cut a bunch of things in no particular order

Apart from the scenes in Egypt and Elba (which are sepia-tinted) the entire movie is colorgraded with a blue-grey tone like the most painfully dreary wet day in late autumn. Just watching it I got hypothermia. Just take these two shots - the first from the 1970 waterloo movie (highly recommended, can be found for free on youtube), the second from 2023 - to see the difference.

Despite a massive budget and cgi available the battles actually felt incredibly small. The Waterloo scene in particular felt like it was taking place on a patch of grass that was a 100 meters square, with two thin lines of French infantry advancing towards a relatively small group of British infantry dispersed within a couple meters of trenches, with the tents of their camp only meters directly behind that. It gave the entire thing the sense like it was a large reenactment society of maybe 200 people giving it their all, rather than 140.000. The 1970 Waterloo might be 50 years old but showed vastly, vastly more impressive scenes of huge formations of men, offering awe-inspiring cinematography compared to Scott's tiny Waterloo skirmish. I'm perfectly willing to accept disgustingly bad historical accuracy as long as the pictures are sufficiently pretty. They were not.

As a note, in the movie the British infantry inexplicably decides to walk forwards out of their fortified trenchline on the slope (complete with spikes) and form squares in front of it, instead of simply staying inside of their trenches.

There's a fucking sniper at Waterloo. Like, an infantryman with a rifle with a scope on it. He blows a golfball-sized hole in Napoleon's hat.

The Marshals - each colorful, fascinating characters many of whom would individually be worthy of their own movie - are less than background characters; I don't think any were even mentioned by name, and there's only two or three that are regularly seen on screen. Marshal Ney, famous, brave, tragic Ney, who has a very distinctive redhead appearance, was rendered completely unrecognizable by adding a moustache.

Phoenix's Napoleon has no charismatic presence whatsoever. Anyone who wasn't already reasonably familiar with Napoleon before seeing this movie would be dumbfounded why so many people followed him at all, or why upon his return from Elba thousands of soldiers sent to stop him simply deserted to his cause as soon as he approached. If you want to create a movie to deconstruct Napoleon from a brilliant national hero to a flawed man there are infinite ways to do so, and they chose the most sub-par by just making him kinda odd and insecure.

Napoleon's military genius is underexplored if not entirely absent from the movie, and to a large extent it simply feels like events are just kinda happening to him, especially with the way short disparate scenes are quickly strung together. One second we're in the aftermath of Austerlitz (1805), and two or three 1-minute scenes we're at the invasion of Russia (1812). Some of Napoleon's finest moments as a general are omitted from the film such as the Italian campaign, Jena-Auerstedt, and the six-day campaign of 1814 where Napoleon so thoroughly outgeneralled his opponent his tiny 30K man army inflicted nearly 30K casualties on enemy forces twice his size over the course of four battles.

Meanwhile his crowning achievement at Austerlitz is reduced to yelling thrice for hidden units to attack and then the entire enemy army flees onto an ice lake fit for a fantasy movie (just check out the ice scene from the 2004 King Arthur) and gets sunk by cannon fire. If you've seen the trailer you've seen almost the entire battle.

Huge parts of the movie are devoted to his marriage to Josephine, which I personally don't find terribly interesting to begin with, and historical events are contorted to be related to his marriage (such as ditching his army in Egypt because she's cheating on him), but it often felt to me like this storyline, such as it was, was firing in certain directions only to abruptly cut them off or let them go nowhere, and the movie seemed unsure whether it was the A-plot or the B-plot or a secret third thing.

Before I forget... not once but twice Napoleon is charging into the thick of the melee on horseback!!! First where he is at the very front of a cavalry charge at Borodino (the 30 seconds of it that we got, which were all in the trailer) and second near the end of Waterloo before making a run for it. And it's so patently absurd! It's like a WW1 movie with Kaiser Wilhelm personally storming the trenches or Emperor Hirohito flying a plane at Pearl Harbor. Napoleon demonstrated plenty of bravery in his life (such as when he was wounded by a bayonet at Toulon, or attempted to lead a charge at the bridge at Arcole) but the Emperor of the French was not at the fucking forefront of a massed cavalry charge with sabre in hand scything down infantrymen.

The movie ends with a card with casualtyfigures from a bunch of battles as if it's a sobering statement at the end of a Holocaust movie, so the Brits can remind you Napoleon was actually Hitler.

[adultswim2021]

Robot Chicken #79: “Please Do Not Notify Our Contractors” | September 13, 2009 - 11:30PM | S04E18

I have to finish a Jeopardy board for my “online friends” game night tonight, so I’ll make this as brief as I can, which is usually not very. Four longish sketches for me to comment on! 

One is a parody of the end of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. I think. I only saw that movie once ever in my entire life. I don’t think I like Indiana Jones, like, at all. Anyway: This is about the knight that is guarding the holy grail, and how he got along for all those years before Indiana Jones got there. It also explains why there were so many other grails there to confuse him; they were fast food cups from him ordering in. I don’t hate this premise, I just hate hearing Breckin Meyer doing a British accent. It just sounds like a high school drama student approximating Monty Python sketches to me. 

There’s a sketch where a father hides in his young son’s closet to prove to him that there’s no such thing as a bogeyman. It backfires, because he learns that his son is domming his teddy bear and now he’s trapped in there as to not confront this terrible truth. I’m not sure if I missed the full joke of this sketch; there were key phrases that seemed to suggest that the kid was playing out some role playing fantasy he has or reenacting a trauma from a previous living situation? He does say the teddy bear is adopted? Like, I’m honestly not sure if the joke is that the kid is planning to rape his adoptive father or something, I genuinely feel like i missed a key detail. NOT SPENDING MORE TIME ON THIS TO FIGURE IT OUT, SORRY.

There’s a very long sketch where it’s Beast from Beauty and the Beast on a dating reality show where he fucks and sucks various beauties of various backgrounds. Technically this is a new idea, I guess, but the tropes of reality shows have been fodder for comedy for so gosh darn long, and none of those jokes seem particularly inspired. The funniest joke in this is the running gag of the angry mob that keeps interrupting it, but then I remembered about January 6th and instantly got PTSD from it :( 

Okay; the best sketch of the night was Montage, about a superhero of sorts who helps people by showing up an enacting a montage. There’s been comedy about the montage trope for years, but the part where he does a montage to age up a house thief so that he becomes too frail to complete his crime is pretty inspired. And the ending was really good, where Montage’s nemesis End Credits man shows up, for both being a clever joke and also letting me know that the show was about to end. 

EPHEMERA CORNER:

The Office (UK) (September 19, 2009 - 12:00AM)

I recently watched a video where a British man defended the post-classic era of the Simposns. It only solidified my personal theory that as outsiders to American culture, British people are less likely to be able to discern the very clear difference between good and bad episodes of The Simpsons. But this is a two-way street, mostly resulting in Americans not realizing Ricky Gervais sucks until he became the most cartoonishly awful version of himself. 

Did I love The Office back then? Yes. I haven’t tried to watch it in full in probably 20 years or so, so I don’t know if it “holds up” (I mean that in the least obnoxious way possible). I only got into the American Office after exhausting rewatches of the British one, after being told how much better it got after it’s first season (of which I saw the first episode, a remake of the first British episode, and hated).

The Office airing on Adult Swim is one of my favorite bits of Adult Swim lore. Because it was promoted for weeks with Ricky Gervais being, for it’s time, funny and cheeky in promos. You got the impression he riffed them all out, letting his naturally-amusing arrogance drive them with inspired one-liners. The show’s odd runtime meant that Adult Swim had to air it in 45 minute time slots with extensively long introductions with Ricky Gervais talking about the episode for a few minutes before letting it play. 

The difference between the promos he cut and the intros, despite being the exact same camera setup, was stark. Ricky would pretentiously prattle on about how David Brent was (I used to do an impression of this and it made two people laugh really hard, so I consider it one of my greatest bit) “huuurrtiiing”, almost like we’d failed as an audience by this character buffoonish. Ricky was basically preparing us for watching a Ken Loach film, and not an above-average BBC Sitcom. It could very well be the first instance of me thinking “this dude seems like he sucks”. 

Surprisingly, these intros seem to be missing from the internet. I keep teasing the fact that some day I’ll dig out my DVD-Rs and try and find this stuff to post somewhere, but who knows at this point. I genuinely don’t know where they are and I have so much fucking shit I need to purge just to get to the pile that MIGHT contain them. But maybe some day. Enjoy the one promo I found, which doesn’t really illustrate what I’m talking about almost at all. Sorry.

MAIL BAG

The Boondocks pilot got leaked online archive DOT org/details/boondockspilot

Nice!

[intheshadowofwar]

17 June 2023

Living History

Evesham and Broadway 17 June 2023

The following blog contains imagery of Nazi Germany and the Waffen-SS.

I make absolutely no bones about my love of living history in all its forms. At its very best, it’s an entertaining way to get people to learn about the past. At its worst, well, it’s still entertaining. Sure, there are pitfalls - but I think that’s true of any method of conveying history - and there’s certainly a time and a place for it (which we will get into in a few weeks), but ultimately I’d say I support it.

Today we drove from Bedford across the Midlands to Evesham, where a reenactment event was being held - Wartime in the Vale. Obviously this was reenactment of a military bent, and if someone questions being opposed to war but visiting such events, I once again bring up Wells’ quotation about tin widows. The overwhelming majority of the groups present represented the Second World War, although there were some First World War Tommies and a few Cold War impressions.

One part of reenactment that tends to raise eyebrows and start debates is the representation of Nazi Germany, in particular the Waffen-SS. I’m not so worried about regular Wehrmacht and Fallschirmjager impressions (unless they try to imply that said organisations were squeaky clean and never did anything wrong), but I must admit some discomfort about the SS. I decided today that I’d talk to one of them - a fellow named Samuel who was part of a late-war impression of the 1st SS Division - about why he did it. It was a very eye-opening conversation for me. Basically, as he put it, the point wasn’t to glorify the Waffen-SS, it was to educate the public about who they were and what they did. What really struck me was how he told me about an Israeli couple who thanked him for doing that, and how he pointed out that there were Poles and Jewish people in the group.

I still can’t say I’d be comfortable with personally reenacting the SS, but I think he made a good case for why he and his group did. It would certainly be hypocritical of me to say that I think reenactment can be a usual educational tool, and then ban all the things that make me uncomfortable from being reenacted. I know it’s given me a lot to think about - I’d be interested in hearing what others think too.

A few more shoutouts I’d be remiss if I didn’t make - to the ex-Tube driver who works with neurodivergent people in the 6th Airborne group, to Harry from the 1st Dorsets who I had a nice conversation with, and to the chap from the Royal Engineers group that showed me all the Lee-Enfields. As for unique impressions, I was particularly impressed by the British Cold War group - I’ve seen them before but they’re always good - to the Winter War Finns, and to the WAS(B) (Women’s Auxiliary Service Burma) group.

(There was also a guy doing a Cape Town Highlanders impression, but he was on his own so I can’t credit a group for that.)

We left just before two and went on a jaunt to Broadway, a village in the Cotswolds that I’ve been to before, but which we thought it’d be good to show my stepfather. While he and mum looked around the village, I hung around Broadway station, the terminus of the Gloucestershire and Warwickshire Railway, and watched the train arrive. This was headed by the Merchant Navy-class No. 35006 Peninsular & Oriental S. N. Co. This was an old friend from my last visit to this part of the world, but I’m never definitely unhappy to see a Bulleid pacific.

I arrived back to Bedford satisfied and more than a little sunburnt. Tomorrow we leave for London, and on Monday, the study tour finally begins. I am firmly on the road to the Dardanelles now…

[nerdetiquette]

So I’m finally getting my friend to read Gideon the ninth, and she’s going in with mostly no knowledge. It was their idea to play a game and guess what characters are like from art I sent her and the characters names. She doesn’t know who’s a cavalier and who’s a necromancer.

art by @exmakina

Here’s the picture of the cast I sent and here are their thoughts:

She actually thought Judith and Marta were boys which is fair in all honesty bc I kept saying they looked like 12 year old boys in British uniforms for an American revolutionary war reenactment.

Judith:

Okay so Judith Deuteros, I feel like she's the 'older sister' who thinks she can do everything herself but she cant. A bit rude and super loyal until proven otherwise

Now for Marta, autocorrect decided to change Dyas to DYAS because I yelled about her being cool when I was reading htn. I have no shame, she’s definitely hot and definitely out of my league.

Marta:

Okay, misS DYAS 😂 is the one who can actually do everything on her own but lets people help her just because its less work. Direct but nice overall

[here is where I explained why it autocorrect to DYAS without saying it was because she was really cool]

Her: So a bit stupid too

Me: how dare you, I’m offend on her behalf

Her: Well emotionally stupid

Logically brilliant

Me: I am offended on her behalf

To explain Ianthe, I sent her the cast before and they said they thought Ianthe was pretty so I had been sending non spoiler fanart of Ianthe which is surprisingly hard. I get that bone arm Ianthe is hot, but like there’s so little of regular Ianthe.

Ianthe:

Okay, social bitch whos not afraid to stab you in the back and will do ANYTHING, and I mean ANYTHING to protect her twin

Very manipulative

Me, shocked at most of it being right: anything else?

Mmm likes things her way

Coronabeth:

I like her name

She's the quiet one, but still talks shit about ppl she doesn't like. She likes to look pretty but only for herself

Also would do anything for her twin

I feel like she could betray her in exceptional circumstances (my reaction to this was basically 👀 because of as yet unsent)

Naberius is funny because I haven’t told her a thing about him. So I’m going to let this part speak for itself.

Then I proceeded to tell her that I know only one person who liked Naberius and he’s objectively wrong. (he decided he would stop defending Naberius after I reminded him that babs threatened children)

Issac:

Little ginger boy who DESPISES being called short, but also super agile and good at his job (wtv it is)

I feel like he's crushing on a girl but idk who and he gets flustered way too easy, it kinda puts him in trouble, cause he cant lie

Jeannemary:

Ooo I like her name too

Shes basically Gabi from aot

Lemme tell y’all, this absolutely crushed me. If you like aot and you were watching it as it came out or just saw the memes, no one liked Gabi. I thought Gabi was fine but the idea of people hating Jeannemary made me very sad.

Abigail:

The type of girl who volunteers at retirement homes. She likes to read and be alone whenever she's not on the job. Barely talks to anyone, she prefers to listen to people

(She was proud of this one because I said nifty, this is like modern au Abigail minus her fun, funky parts. If I were describe Abigail, I would say unhinged academia and move on)

Magnus:

Absolute lady magnet, charming smile and flirty eyes. Crushes on Abigail but she's oblivious to love so he kinda just admires from afar. Only default is he lets his emotions control him, easy to manipulate

(She was very happy when I told her Abigail and Magnus were married)

Now much to my dismay, this heathen thinks glasses are sexy so she thinks Palamedes is hot which hurts the part of my soul that headcanons Pal as aroace, but putting that aside, I said please don’t ship these characters I will literally cry. This concerned her and I had tell her they were cousins.

Palamedes:

So Pal, real nerdy, super good with anything thats tech. But of a sarcastic brat, and gets along better with animals than humans

(This is almost entirely inaccurate but I’m not a heartless monster so they can have this for now.)

Camilla:

Good with math, can do decently in tech too because she observed her cousin work so often. She's a pro at detecting when ppl are lying and doesn't let their bullshit pass ever.

Now I was very excited for what they would say about Dulcinea/Cytherea and Pro mostly because I wanted to see if the guess leaned more towards the actual Dulcie and Pro or not.

Dulcinea:

Cutie 🥰

(Me: Gideon thought so too)

She's a master at deception though. She likes flowers and jewelry and will flirt with any man (or woman) to help her own cause. She doesn't do murder, but she can easily knock out a man. She just flirts to get what she wants

I was absolutely dumbfounded that she basically guessed Cytherea’s whole character, aside from the murder. I was just thinking god damn and I tried my best not to show it (this is very hard and I understand why my friend who got me into the series spoiled so much on accident). Also Cytherea is her favorite based on their current assumptions.

Protesilaus:

Stone cold warrior, scary but honestly isn't afraid to cry. Hes good at what he does, but he hates it. Fucking whipped for a lady he cant have. Biggest heart you can find

This was such a good guess for original Pro that I was just like how???

About the eighth house, I told her that no one likes the eight and I very much hate them so that’s where all of this comes from.

Silas:

Okay so cruel individual who has zero empathy, picks on innocent people for fun and is loyal to death

Colum:

Also known as Colon Shit is homophobic and kills for fun 🙃

Oh and a pathological liar

This is all so wrong that I was like Jesus does it take that much to hate someone, but I didn’t want to spoil anything by telling them just how wrong they were.

We went to Harrow who I told her is a top kin of mine. Her prediction for Harrow was so nice and I can’t even be mad at her for being this wrong.

Harrowhark:

Okay healer type of character who helps anyone she can, has a hard time dealing with her emotions so she just shuts them down

I was also very excited for her Gideon prediction as anyone I talk to about this book knows I am head over heels in love this Gideon. She is pure of heart and she is dumb of ass. She is my everything. The friend who got my into gtn has a count of whenever I text them “she’s so stupid 🥰” referring to Gideon because it’s only referring to Gideon and never anyone else.

Gideon:

Okay from what you told me, she's a raging lesbian who cant deal with how attractive women are but is also a badass warrior

I have said too much in the end.

[e350tb]

The Owl House: A Blight on Gravesfield (Chapter Five)

Five

The sun rises over Gravesfield.

...so the first essay topic will be up online this afternoon. Now back to weird local myths!

In 1660, King Charles II was restored to the English throne, and the whole Civil War period came to a close. Sort of. There was still a lot of political and religious controversy in both the British Isles and in the colonies; but that’s mostly a topic for another course. We are going to be following the continuing adventures of the Wittebanes.

John died in 1672 of pneumonia, but before he did, he had a family house constructed on his estate; that house, the Historic Wittebane Home, is still, and access is free to all Gravesfield residents, so if you have some time it’s well worth a visit. Although it looks small and uncomfortable now, in the 1660s it was the height of colonial luxury.

John left his estate to his son, the confusingly named John Philip Wittebane. We’ll call him John Philip to avoid too much confusion. Before John Philip took over the estate, he had sailed both as a merchant and as a buccaneer in the Caribbean; we believe he sailed with Henry Morgan in the raid on Maracaibo in 1668-69. While there, he purchased investments in a number of industries, and while he divested from them when he returned to Connecticut to collect his inheritance, they had made him a very wealthy man.

He immediately put his wealth to use by buying up most of the small farmers around Gravesfield, and by 1690, it was reckoned that most people in Gravesfield were employed by him. It became effectively a Wittebane company town, with John Philip even serving as the city’s mayor several times.

This is where our next myth comes to play; that in 1687, John Philip Wittebane had a woman put to death for witchcraft, and that consequently, her ghost haunts the Historic Wittebane Home.

Now, I’m a historian, I can’t tell you ghosts are real. That’s a job for ghostbusters. But was a woman really hanged in Gravesfield for witchcraft, nearly twenty years after the end of the Connecticut Witch Trials?

The local newspaper tell us that on June 13th, 1687 - a Friday - a ‘vagrant, suspected by some of heresy and witchraft, was duly hanged by the magistrate on account of the cruel and vicious murder of Henry Finch, who had been struck down while attending the ‘pigges’ on the Wittebane estate.’ So we have a clear cause for the hanging, and a ‘suspicion of witchcraft,’ but we don’t have a connection.

Frustratingly, this newspaper doesn’t tell us how poor Henry Finch died. Was he cruelly hexed? Well, if we go digging about in the archives, we might find a different story…

----

A brisk and foggy dawn was breaking over Gravesfield.

Ben Frakes was not a man of means by any stretch of the imagination, and as he stepped out into the cold air, he wished he could afford a car. (Well, he could, but it was hard to justify the expense.) It had been an uncomfortable night. Life in his one-room apartment had its charms - chief among them proximity to the college - but on cold nights it could be miserable, especially when his radiator was still broken.

Still, he was in fairly good spirits. His course on Gravesfield’s myths, and the truths behind them, was going very well, and the students seemed engaged. And it was a very good time of year to be in the history business; the annual Gravesfield History Fair was coming up, something he always looked forward to. It was always a riot; apart from a small county fair, there would be historical talks and tours of the old battlefield and the Historical Wittebane Home, and even the yearly battle reenactment; one which Ben had taken part in every year for his whole time in Gravesfield.

He was always on the Redcoat side and therefore always lost, but having fun was the main thing. Even if it was a bit of historical revisionism on the part of the townsfolk.

He was just starting off down the sidewalk to the college grounds when he spied a rustling in the nearby bushes. For a moment, he was prepared to dismiss it as a rabbit or a bird, but then, to his astonishment, a little white head poked out.

“Is that a cat?” he asked himself.

Slowly and gently, he crept forward, leaning down behind the bush. The cat emerged, gently headbutting his outstretched hand.

“Hmm… too much grooming to be a feral,” mused Ben. “Have you gotten out of someone’s yard?”

Carefully, he picked up the cat.

“Am I gonna have to print out a wanted poster for you?” he asked, chuckling. “I’ve got some milk in my fridge, maybe… what the?”

His gaze turned to the cat’s paws. Just under one of the back paws, he could see a peculiar mark, almost like a lock. He frowned.

“That doesn’t look healthy,” he mused. “Okay, pre-class prep can wait, I think you need a vet.”

He started off in the direction of the vet. He wasn’t concerned about making it to his class; that was still hours away, and he’d been planning on spending the morning doing some marking. But that mark… cats did not have marks like that.

At least, not in his world.

----

Camila was not an oblivious woman, especially when it came to her daughter.

She had had some suspicions the night before; most people wouldn’t jump through a portal into the unknown to get their friend to help, after all. But things were messy and upsetting, and people did irrational things under stress, so she’d shelved that thought.

When she walked into her living room the next morning and found them sound asleep in each other’s arms - well, suffice it to say, her suspicions grew a bit.

When Luz eventually blinked open her eyes, she found her mother sitting on the couch with a cup of tea in her hand, smiling wryly down at her.

“Good friends, are you?” she asked.

Luz blinked, and then glanced over to Amity.

She yelped and pulled herself out of her friend’s arms, which in turn woke her up with a start. Both sat up, Luz turning bright red.

“What’s going on?” demanded Amity. “Are we being attacked?”

Camila took a sip of her tea.

“Don’t worry,” she replied. “If we are, I’m sure Luz is very well protected.”

“Mooo-oooom,” groaned Luz, burying her head in her hands as Amity turned red too.

“Uh, Ms. Noceda, it’s… I’m…” Amity scratched the back of her head. “Please don’t get mad, Luz…”

“Mad?” Camila tilted her head. “Why would I be mad?”

“I… um… I…” Amity stammered.

“I need to take a shower!” exclaimed Luz. “Far away from here! Goodbye!”

She darted off the inflatable mattress and out the door.

Amity buried her head in the blanket, moaning softly. Camila frowned, moving a little closer to her.

“Amity,” she asked. “Is everything alright?”

“Sure,” sighed Amity. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Camila reached down and put a hand on her shoulder. She was surprised to see Amity jolt away from her; her frown deepened.

“If you ever need to talk,” she said. “Just remember that I’m here.”

“Thanks,” replied Amity, looking away, “But I don’t think I will.”

She got up and walked away.

----

Luz spat her toothpaste out into the sink (she was surprised at how much better-tasting human toothpaste was than the stuff they used on the Isles, although it probably didn’t provide the same magical plaque protection) and washed her hands, whistling to herself. She didn’t know why - it wasn’t as though she was calm or cheerful - but perhaps music calmed the soul.

“Okay,” she said to herself. “Gotta go back to the historical society. Maybe there’s a lead to getting Amity home on that creepy curator guy’s conspiracy board… also wanna see if the bookstore’s still there. I think Amity would like it.”

She turned to the door and immediately froze.

Camila was leaning against the closed door, arms crossed.

“I think it’s time we talked, mija.”

Luz pursed her lips.

“...do we have to do it in the bathroom?”

[who-am-i-no-one]

Emma. (2020)

I watched this movie in late January. After multiple viewings and re-reading the book, I have a lot of thoughts about this adaptation.

It seems rather strange, given that Emma is part of my holy trinity of Austen novels, that I didn't watched the most recent adaptation earlier. I think it was mostly due to my initial impression that Anya Taylor-Joy's otherworldly looks didn't quite match what I had in mind for the titular character. I decided to give this version a try after watching Queen's Gambit. Not sure that Anya's looks will ever grow on me, but she did impress me as a young actress who seemed to have a maturity beyond her years.

Long story short: really wished I had seen this movie earlier! It is absurd and heartfelt at the same time, imo, the version that best imbues Austen's humor. It is now my favorite adaption, with the possible exception of Clueless, and I'm not quite sure how much of that is just nostalgia.

From the casting to the direction to the script to the costumes to the set to the soundtrack, I could tell the creative team really put a lot of love into this project. It's always a joy to watch something that's made with love and made well.

Direction

Autumn de Wilde's directing is quite good. I would never have thought this was her first feature. She certainly has a unique and colorful style, which is probably to be expected for such a famous photographer.

Funnily, while watching the movie I kept thinking it reminded me of early Hollywood romantic comedies like Bringing Up Baby (incidentally one of my favorites) or The Philadelphia Story, and then reading interviews and seeing that she had tried to bring in some of that style of humor made me feel rather validated. Also the servants' reactions were awesome!

Absolutely loved the fact that they decided to show that Knightley and Emma were in love with each other very early on in the story, with Knightley more aware of it. I've read some people complaining about the surprise of Emma's being in love being ruined. But come on, did anyone reading two chapters into the book think it wasn't going to be the two of them together in the end?

Loved how much of Knightley's point of view we got in this movie. This is one repressed pinning man. I can totally see this Knightley riding ventre a terre from London in the rain because he thought Emma was heartbroken.

The only gripe I had was the lack of Frank and Jane's subplot. As it seems they shot some scenes for that, I assume it was the director's discretion to take them out. I remember thinking while watching the movie that they must have expected the audience to be familiar with the story because some things just didn't really get explained or extrapolated on a lot. If you hadn't read the book it'd be 30 minutes or more into the movie before you put two and two together and figured out why Mr. Knightley is always at Hartfield.

Script

The script takes most of the dialogue directly from the book, which is awesome. I love Austen's writing because there is a certain musicality to it and retaining that in large part for the movie really made it better for me. The deftness with which Eleanor Catton moved dialogue from one scene in the book to a totally different one in the movie was quite brilliant. Everything flowed so well.

The scenes that differed from the book were also excellent - namely, I really loved the Jane/Knightley duet, the infamous nosebleed and first kiss scenes. 💖 I thought the screenwriter used those changes to quickly establish plot points and character arcs well.

Costume/Hair

Not a Recency expert so can't say much about the costumes and hair as far as period correctness but from reading other reviews it seemed like they were very true to the period. Obviously appreciated them taking the time to show the audience how men got dressed in that time (purely for research purposes obviously 😜).

Emma's dresses were all quite beautiful. I especially loved the black evening dress, the pink one with the roses and the proposal dress. Also loved the little pop of red shoes that went with the proposal dress. As someone who wore red shoes with her wedding gown I heartily approve.

Absolutely loved how Emma's curls unwound as her life unravels. Similarly think they must have done the same for Knightley to a lesser extent. His hair during the card playing scene at the Westons was quite terrible.

Set

I! Loved! Hartfield! It looked just like a doll house. Really most of the sets looked good enough to eat. So much pastel. Reminded me of French macarons.

I liked how everything in Donwell Abbey was shrouded in Holland covers. Makes a good point that Knightley barely lives there at all, that his home has been with the Woodhouses for quite a while now. Which, of course, makes his sacrifice at the end just a little bit less of a sacrifice?

Soundtrack

Isabella Waller-Bridge's music really meshed well with the tone of the entire film. The male and female opera singers, sometimes sounding as if they are bickering with each other and other times seeming to be in duet, was a brilliant touch. The folk music was a little jarring at first but really grew on me.

Johnny Flynn's end credits song "Queen Bee" is amazing. I love that we get Knightley's perspective at the end with a song written and sung by Knightley. It's a lovely coda to the movie. And now, if the next Austen hero doesn't write one for his SO I'm going to think him a very poor sort of lover.

Cast

Anya's Emma was really great. I'm glad they allowed Emma to be her bitchy self. Lol. I haven't watched the 1996 and 2009 versions in a while but I distinctly remember them making Emma too nice. I recall writing after watching the Garai version that Emma was actually mean and they should have let her be mean! If she's not a brat in the beginning, how will we see her change for the better later on? I love what a snob and how manipulative this Emma was and so assured of her place in her little society but still had the vulnerability of almost an imposter's syndrome which I feel most people can relate to.

Her chemistry with Johnny Flynn's Knightley was off the charts. Pretty much every scene they had together I half expected them to reenact the library scene from Atonement lol.

Mia Goth was a wonderful Harriet. She really captured Harriet's inexperience, naivete and diffidence. The orgasmic sounds she was making during the gypsies attack scene were awesome. Although, I could probably have forgone a few of Harriet's scenes for more Frank and Jane.

Not sure why they made Mia go brunette since the book specifically mentioned Harriet was fair? Perhaps having all three leads as blondes was just a bit too much. I'm also not sure if I liked Harriet's ending as I really don't think Emma, even in her most contrite mood, would invite further friendship from a tradesman's daughter and soon-to-be her husband's tenant farmer's wife. This seems a piece of modern day wishful thinking on the part of the creative team.

Bill Nighy was so good as Mr. Woodhouse. He made it so believable why everyone would do everything in their power to accommodate his whims. The gag with the screens was too funny. He was able to sketch out a lonely quirky old man who is afraid to lose those close to him in very limited screen time. Absolutely loved the scene where Emma was heaping blame on herself and he just sat with her in sympathetic silence.

Miranda Hart's Miss Bates was excellent as well. She has long been one of my favorite British comedic actresses but she can also do drama well. Her reaction to Emma's teasing on Box Hill and her forgiveness of Emma later brought me to tears.

Josh O'Connor's Mr. Elton was deliciously creepy. The carriage proposal scene was at once a little scary and hilarious. I actually liked the portrait scenes a little less because I found the acting there slightly affected and veering into 1995 Mr. Collins territory. But as Austen described Elton as having "a sort of parade in his speeches", this was much more forgivable. Really loved Mr. Elton's determination to eat cake during the Eltons' visit to Hartfield.

Tanya Reynolds was an excellent Mrs. Elton and in very little screen time was able to bring to life this meddlesome nouveau riche. Adored her little shimmy during the ball.

Amber Anderson's Jane really looked as if she were in a decline. Callum Turner did a good job as a slightly restless, mischievous and immature Frank Churchill. I did feel his looks were a bit too modern but that's just my personal view.

Given how many scenes they had I thought they used the time they had pretty well with furtive glances and sly smiles at each other to establish the relationship.

Connor Swindells was such a love sick puppy as Robert Martin. Did this role ever get cast in other adaptations? I don't seem to recall at all.

Special shoutout to Oliver Chris's John Knightley. Absolutely had me in stitches.

And last but never the least, Johnny Flynn's Mr. Knightley:

To preface, I will never not fall for Mr. Knightley in any version that I watch. And really, get yourself a good looking enough actor with good enough chemistry with Emma and good enough acting chops and you should have a fairly successful Knightley.

I judge all my Knightleys by the Box Hill scene. And up to that point in the movie, I really liked Johnny Flynn's Knightley. He was playful and sexy and jealous and slightly bitchy as well. The duet scene was lovely because I always appreciate a man who can play instruments and sing well. The sexiness and chemistry of the dance scene was off the charts. That's all well and good. And like I said before, given any well cast actor, I probably would have liked them in those scenes as well, just as I've liked Northam's and Miller's Knightleys.

But, the Box Hill scene absolutely blew me away. To make sure I was not just biased towards the last Knightley I saw on screen, I did go back and compare each version's Box Hill scene and I am, actually, even more blown away. Some of it is a credit to the directing and script, but a large part of it is Johnny Flynn's acting in that scene.

As far a script and directing, the set up to the fight scene was fantastic. Loved Anya's expression changes after she makes the joke. Loved Miranda Hart's Miss Bates as she realizes what Emma meant. The silence that followed. Knightley's shocked face and how sympathetic he was to Miss Bates. Can probably write a whole thing just about this scene alone.

I loved the fact that Knightley had an internal struggle as to whether or not to approach Emma and reproach her for her behavior. I know the book has him tell Emma about his struggle but that just doesn't work as well for me on screen.

During the scene you can just tell how frustrated and disappointed in her he is even though he tries to keep his voice low. But the way he reprimands her does not at all feel lecture-y and I feel like part of it is because it seems like he starts to lose control a little bit as well. His voice starts to crescendo as she stubbornly refuses to admit she was in the wrong and culminates in "badly done, indeed!" with actual fingerpointing. Yikes.

Then he losses steam and looked regretful, almost devastatingly so, at his own outburst and perhaps felt that he was losing her by giving this speech and looked as if he would have said something more - an apology or some words of comfort to soften the blow? - but didn't.

This remorse and the struggle at the beginning really bookended the scene for me.

Absolutely loved his Knightley, and, really, him as an actor after that.

The proposal scene as well was very good. His delivery was just really good. The way he said "If I loved you less then I might be able to talk about it more." with some regret and then closing his eyes as if he can't believe what he just said. Soooo good. Also, he cries very pretty, lol.

The delivery of the three "yes" during the kiss scene as Emma asked for confirmation that he really was ok with giving up his house to come live with them was also brilliant. It just kept getting softer and softer but he never breaks eye contact. Absolute chef's kiss. His closed eyed little smile of content after Emma kisses him just made me melt into a puddle.

Yup, overall I'd say I rather liked his interpretation of Mr. George Knightley. 😜

I did wish they hadn't giving him such sideburns but after watching some Emma interviews I can totally understand. If he didn't have the sideburns there'd be more complaints about how young this Knightley was. He's got such a baby face.

...I seemed to have written an entire essay on this movie...yeah, I just have a lot of feelings and thoughts about this version...

[impetuous-impulse]

Maybe you're right that the British understanding of Napoleon is informed by their limited contact with him. Their encounters with Napoleon were usually from a point of relative distance. The British were not fighting Napoleon for the majority of the Revolutionary Wars, and when they did fight Napoleon, it was mostly through intermediaries such as French naval commanders (ex. Trafalgar) or Napoleon's generals (during the Peninsular War)—until Waterloo, that is. And even in Waterloo, British forces did not directly encounter Napoleon the man. Thus he may have remained an aloof enigma, badly warped by British propaganda.

Multiple factors other than historiography shape the portrayal of Napoleon in Anglophone circles. Correct me if I am wrong, but I feel that English-speaking Napoleonic forums, made by and for reenactment enthusiasts, care about the personalities in the Napoleonic era insofar that they impact the course of battles or history. Therefore, Napoleon's quirks might not factor into their assessments of him as a general and leader. Another bit of the equation is that Anglo forums have British bias. To overgeneralise, Anglo-speaking forum members are more likely to be there to discuss British history, which is why they tend to hyperfocus on Brit-centric topics like naval battles and the 95th Rifle Brigade and see Napoleon, who wasn't in those theatres, as a distant enemy commander. Since an English-speaking Napoleon movie can't exactly focus on parts of the Napoleonic Wars where Napoleon himself was not present, we're left with "Napoleon-as-enemy-commander".

There is also Scott's artistic vision and Phoenix's interpretation of Napoleon to contend with as well as its historical accuracy. The movie has never professed to be a biopic (to my knowledge), so there will be significant liberties taken, even with the characters of... the historical characters. Scott's team is using the bare bones of Napoleon's history to create a story they want. In all likelyhood, they probably used few historical sources, instead giving that one credited French historical advisor that has a PhD in medieval studies five months to course-correct them. (And if they did, perhaps they used Anglo sources that psychoanalyse their subjects, because that seems to be where the film is going.)

In film, cinematography and plot are vital than the history, and I expect a story from the movie, not a history, even if the story is not historically accurate. That is not to say that this film isn't a missed chance, though.

Something I was wondering about the Ridley Scott movie trailers, but also with regards to the Napoleonicwars forum: Is there something like a specifically "British Napoleon"? Like, a historical tradition that differs wildly from the "European Napoleon"?

What irritates me most about those trailers we have seen is not so much Phoenix's age (that too), but mostly his behaviour. He's so ... static? I mean, sure, they put him on a horse during a cavalry attack which is ludicrous in itself. But in all scenes when he actually has to interact with people, he's like a pillar. Just standing/sitting there. Same facial expression for every emotion. Not even awkward (I would applaud that) but just aloof. Not really interested. Barely "there".

We're talking Napoleone Buonaparte here. That little ball of condensed energy. Always impatient, always in motion. The guy who could not sit still long enough even for painters to do a quick drawing. The guy whose quickly changing features painters complained were so hard to render. The guy who would fire off a salvo of questions to anyone he met because he wanted to see and know everything. The guy whose piercing glance and seductive smile are mentioned so often by pretty much everyone who met him, especially in his youth.

Which might just be the crux? "People who met him" for the biggest part excluded Brits. Those only got to see him during the brief peace time in the Consulate, and then again on Saint Helena. Interactions with him were very limited.

It would make sense for the movie to be based mostly on anglophone sources. Do British sources portrait Napoleon in a different way because their view of him is mostly determined by the depressed, defiant, caged Napoleon of Saint Helena? - From what I've seen, the first thing most European sources mention about his character is: intelligence, willpower, activity, ambition. - In the Ridley Scott movie, only "ambition" seems to be left.

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Every Now and Then - Chapter 5

Summary: “It’s a simple case of not enough versus taking what you can get. Sometimes she sees him for a day or two, then not again for almost half a year.” Relationships are hard. When one person is a world-wide superstar and both people are idiots, they get that much harder. They both take what they can get, but eventually that may not be enough.

Warnings: Two large dollops of smut, a half-cup of angst divided, several pinches of language, dash of loneliness, and a good sprinkle of lack of communication. Fold ingredients together gently, bake at 200c fan for 20 minutes, then serve piping hot from the oven.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: So many, many thanks to @glassjacket and @thoughtslikeaminefield for endless cheers and edits and more cheers. I love you both. Thank you to @there-must-be-a-lock for the lovely image (and all the many wonderful choices you gave me to pick from). Please excuse my slang terms if I got them wrong. I did a lot of internet research but was too self-conscious to ask an actual British person for advice.

In case you missed it: Chapter 4 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

…

Every Now and Then

Chapter 5

They have an agreement of honesty and disclosure but as few outside personal details as possible. She gets all the information she honestly needs about his love life from the tabloid press, and she answers any questions he has about anyone she bothers to date in his absence, though his questions are near to non-existent. As are her other dates, to be honest. It’s impossible to find anyone that measures up to him in his absence, and she’s mostly given up trying.

She doesn’t see him for the whole of one winter and then only sporadically through the spring. Then the internet and tabloids explode over videos of him dancing and kissing and all manner of things she honestly does not want to see, and she thinks…

Well, she doesn’t know what to think. Jealousy, obviously. Disappointment. A deep, unexpected emptiness. But really, what did she expect? They aren’t married. They aren’t dating or really even committed. They certainly can’t have an official relationship. She has no claim and should really have no expectations.

She does her best to avoid tabloids, to turn the other way at the market when she does her shopping, and she avoids all but the most necessary uses of the internet. She buries herself in work and her friends and family and continues on with her life, just as they both always say they should when they aren’t together.

Because they are very obviously, very much not together.

And, yet, she misses him all the same.

When the “news” of his break-up hits, she refuses to allow herself to be glad. He’s always wanted someone he can be with publicly, have a real, open life with, and she will not hope for or be excited by the prospect that he has lost something so important to him.

And, yet, she listens for his call all the same.

It doesn’t come.

Autumn has firmly set in and is toeing the line with winter. She is in for the evening, too tired to go out with her friends, feeling just melancholy enough to let herself sulk into a mug of hot chocolate as she surfs shit television, wrapped in giant cardigan, sweatpants, and a fleece blanket to boot. Her flat is conspicuously empty of him tonight, and she feels his absence in every fiber of her being.

“Fucking pathetic, ridiculous, and absolutely stupid.”

She groans and finishes her scalding drink in one go, heaving herself off the sofa with the intention of making another one with extra whipped cream, when the door buzzer goes off unexpectedly. She stares at it, perplexed. It’s too late for deliveries, and most of her mates are off on a mini holiday that she didn’t feel up to joining. No one should be coming over.

The buzzing stops before she can answer, and she waits for a moment, staring hard at the box mounted in the wall. Maybe there was a short in one of the wires. There’s a long minute of silence before she finally shrugs and turns to the kitchen. She’s just pulling the milk out of the fridge when a short, definitive series of knocks comes from the door.

He’s just as tall as she remembered, but he seems a bit deflated as he stands in her doorway, a ridiculous hat on his head, thick sweater obscuring the sharp edges of his body, looking as unlike himself as she’s seen in a long time. She steps back automatically to let him in, but he hesitates, his eyes nervous and sad behind his thick, black-framed glasses. She knows what he’s waiting for, but, as much as it pains her to pain him, part of her is the barest hint of vindictive tonight, and she needs to hear him say it.

“I missed you.”

She waits.

“It was too long.”

Yes, it was.

“I won’t apologize, because you told me not to, but I…”

She cuts him off with a sharp shake of her head. “Try again.”

“I tried, she and I both tried, and it didn’t work. I didn’t want to make you my rebound, so I waited until I thought I was settled again. I should have called, at least checked in, but I didn’t want you to think...I didn’t know what you would say, and I’m afraid I was a bit of a coward. That’s why I came instead of calling first tonight. I was afraid you’d hang up. And then I buzzed, and you didn’t answer, and one of your neighbors was coming in and didn’t recognize me, so I thought...I just wanted to see…”

She gives him one more chance, knowing instinctively he’ll get it right this time.

“I just wanted you.”

There it is.

...

“Where did you even get that ridiculous hat?” she asks him later, tilting the accessory in question over her forehead as she lounges across his lap. He leans back against the wall behind her bed, hands folded behind his head, watching her with a faint smile of amusement lighting his face.

In all those tabloids she hasn’t looked at even a little (not once, not at all) while he was gone, she definitely did not notice how little he was smiling. And all those interviews she didn’t watch on the internet. Or read about on the gossip sites.

“I’ll have you know someone told me I look rakish and edgy in that hat.”

“But how does it even fit over all that hair? Really, darling, you’re getting quite shaggy.” She turns to face him, kneeling with her legs on either side of his thighs. Her voice, though teasing, is lower and quieter than normal, and she still feels a little raw around the edges.

She needs to reassure herself he’s really here and not some desperate, late night fantasy conjured up by her loneliness. Her fingertips trace over the faint lines around the corners of his eyes, the ones that deepen so beautifully when he smiles. She runs her fingernails lightly through his beard, ghosts a faint touch over his lips, looking everywhere on his face but still managing to avoid his eyes.

“Tell me.” It’s a request, and she knows it, but they have an agreement, and she feels compelled to answer.

“I was jealous, more than I want to admit. And sad. And lonely. And everything I’d imagine you felt after you broke up with her, as well.”

“You have nothing to be jealous over, you’re so much-”

“Shut up, you great git.” But there’s no sting to her words. “I don’t want to be compared to her, even if it’s favorably. I’d never believe you, anyway. You asked, I answered. I missed you, I hated every mention of the two of you together, and I had every vitriolic thought conceivable, none of which I will ever let reach your ears no matter how much you convince me I need to be open and honest and blah blah blah about my feelings.”

“But you can tell me, you know.”

“I can, but I don’t want to. First, I am done to death with your ex-girlfriend and would love nothing more than to never think of her again. Second, I have gone nearly eight months without a single stupid Shakespeare recitation or dramatic reenactment of my favorite chef, so if you aren’t going to put your tongue to better use, go get that recipe book and get to reading.”

“Darling, I don’t need a recipe book anymore. As the good lady herself said, ‘Once you have mastered a technique, you hardly need look at a recipe again and can take off on your own.’ I think my tongue can be put to much better use pleasing you without resorting to recipes.”

…

She watches him silently from the sofa again, her feet encased in thick, cozy socks and fingers wrapped around her perpetual morning coffee mug, as he sips his tea and scans the newspaper. The sun slips a little higher in the sky, hitting his ridiculous halo of hair in a burst of bronze, and a knot in her chest she didn’t even know was there loosens suddenly. He looks up at that moment, as if sensing the change, and their eyes lock in one of those silent looks they’ve shared so very often. She feels the sting of tears, but she fights them. Yes, they agreed to honesty between them, but there is honesty and then there is idiocy.

“You’re a terrible arse, you know that? The worst kind, and you know I can’t bear the sight you.”

His smile, though sad and knowing, is entirely genuine when he gathers her into his arms and buries his face in the crook of her neck.

“I never claimed to be otherwise, darling, and I can’t stand you, either.”

...

The End

[my-darling-boy]

what about California suits you poorly?

A LOT and I’m so stressed I’m just going to vent about it, I’m sorry I need to let this out:

1. Weather is fucking awful in so many counties, especially where I live. It gets to 110-120F in the summer for 2 months, half the year it’s 90+. We get rain/grey skies MAYBE in total for 2 weeks out of the entire year. I’ve suffered for years from reversed seasonal depression (where you get so much sun you get depressed) which means my mental health is only at it’s best in the cold or with grey skies and gloomy weather, can’t take pills for it because of the side effects. I also have a skin condition that flares up in the heat which means I can’t go outside, at the worst part of the year, for anymore that 30 seconds without stinging horrible pain over my whole body, can’t get the injection to take care of it cos that’s just one more injection I’d have to worry about

2. We’re on constant wildfire watch about half the year, sometimes more. We’ve been at risk of evacuating 3 times but thankfully haven’t had to ever evacuate. However, my grandparents have had to twice and I have family that lost their houses in the Tubbs Fire which also destroyed my home town and so many people are still displaced from the fires. Even counties that don’t have to evacuate suffer from the purple-red zone for air quality due to smoke and I have high sensitivity to smoke which means I have a constant sore throat for all of fire season which is like 7 months out of the year and I would prefer not to look out my window and see a charcoal sky or a burning Star Wars Tattooine red sunset so often that it becomes normal.

3. I dunno what ads are shown in other states about California, but unless you are a millionaire, but I’ve found it’s near impossible to live here without at least two roommates all working a 40 hour week. Everyone my age has roommates or a partner mainly cos it’s so difficult to live on your own. It is in the top 3 most expensive states in the country. Low income housing 2 minutes away from me is priced at $600,000-$700,000 and the homes just next to those in gated communities are $1,000,000+. “”“Affordable””one bedroom flats just near me are $2,500-$3000 a month. And I don’t even live in a major city. If I moved out now, I would be classified as living in poverty with what money I have. For a look at how bad it’s gotten, my dad’s childhood home in the 70s was once $100,000 and it just sold last year for over $1,500,000.

4. There are no outlets for my career or job wants. At all. My main interest/knowledge is in Western Europe around that 1880-1920 period and mainly around WWI, and I reenact a British soldier. I love that history, theatre, art.... but on the off chance I had $60,000 a semester to go to the universities here I wanted to get a degree after transferring from a junior college, I have nowhere to apply that here. There are practically zero WWI events for me to reenact here, minus Newville and a couple others and there is no target audience for all my WWI writing and art because barely anyone gives a damn about WWI here (the Joke I’d always hear in school was “WWI? What even was that?” and we would learn about it for MAYBE two weeks out of 12 years of schooling). There aren’t museums I’d want to work at here, there aren’t shops I’d love to work for, there aren’t historical places I feel attached to to work there. I cannot tell you how fucking ECSTATIC I was to see actual WWI items in museums in England because I’d never seen anything like it here!! Like??? I could’ve fucking cried because I was so happy to be in a place where my interests had meaning to people?? Like last time I was there, literally a man in an elevator got into a Deep conversation with us about how sad WWI was and how it’s still emotional for people which was WILD because here I’m always told to “be smart and get interested in something that actually matters”. Like I’m sorry but it is SO draining to be so passionate about something it feels like no one around you ever cares about

5. The Style I specifically have is SO unnecessarily pricey to have here. California never had an Edwardian Period the way they did in the countries I studied, which means that there are, surprise, pretty much zero places to buy clothing/items from that period and if you do happen to find them, they’re outrageously expensive and the cuts of the garments aren’t even the ones I’m looking for, for instance, because America had slightly different fashion. No one here sells the clothing I dream of having, I have to order a majority of my stuff from England meaning it costs A LOT and I pay like $80+ in shipping for some things. My reenactment gear is so expensive to have shipped here as well!! I’m also so ://// cos I see all my friends from Europe just going out and causally finding items I’d love to have at decent prices cos they’re just staple antique shop items there which would be classified as rarities here. Like...... to know I could just walk into a physical shop somewhere and pay £15 for a collar or something that would’ve cost me $45 to have shipped here is just AAAAAHHHH??? Like the only reason why my dream life Brand isn’t as developed as I would like is because that Brand just doesn’t exist anywhere here and it’s so disappointing

6. Additionally, I plan on going to Europe when it’s much safer to travel anyway throughout my life just to visit all these places I want to, if I don’t end up living there somewhere, but flights from California to these places are so expensive because I’m always traveling so far and my flight is always 11-12 hours straight which would be fine if it wasn’t in cramped quarters filled with strangers

7. Ultimately, I just feel so alone and empty here. I look out around me and see an American capitalist wasteland, Hollywood drama in my backyard, stark blue skies with a blazing unforgiving sun, no places I Vibe with, no place I feel interested to live, no place I feel interested to work at, and nothing to be happy about. My parents are planning to move after my dad retires, my grandparents on both sides are getting quite older now, and my family on both sides I’m not all that close with, I used to see a lot and now I see maybe once every 1-2 years. I’m not a little kid anymore and it’s just time for me to leave and everything just feels so wrong about living here in ways I don’t even have words for

8. Adding: the job situation here has been so bad for a long time and because of that, I’ve reached a point where I’m selling my car to have the money I need to move out! I’m either going to have to find a place to live where I can walk or take the metro or something because I don’t have cash left over to by another car once I sell the one I have so RIP

[sareesinthewind]

Photo 1: Violet Jesudas, Wellawatta, Illangai Photo 2: Anna with her amma Sugi and appa Harry, 1985, Geelong, Australia The below is an article that was published on Warscapes by Anna Arabindan Kesson in 2019.  Remembering the Sri Lankan Civil War My grandmother always reminds me: you have lost your mother-tongue. When I return to Sri Lanka for brief visits, she tells me how I used to understand her. Like my nephews and nieces do now when I was a child, I would listen to spoken Tamil and reply in English. There is nothing I can say to her accusation except to agree. Yes, I have lost my mother tongue, the words, the sounds, the rhythms of speaking to which I was born. I willfully lost this language, after we moved to Australia where my voice, my skin, my body continually marked me as foreign, different, other. As we all know, primary school children can be cruel: losing my mother-tongue was a way to survive. I have often wondered if, had I continued to learn and speak Tamil with my mother, I would find myself now, almost thirty-five years after our migration and ten years after the end of the Sri Lankan civil war, with more articulate means of commemorating the past. So much has been lost as a result of that war. Tens of thousands of Tamil lives were lost – a genocide occurred and still remains unacknowledged – the destruction of Tamil sacred sites and their reconstruction into Buddhist temples, the seizure of formerly Tamil-owned land in the north by the government, the erosion of villages and communities through displacement and the disappearance of  family members whose whereabouts remain, even ten years after the war’s end, unknown. While the government has created official memorials to commemorate their victory over the LTTE – a decimation that included the shelling of Tamil civilians caught in so called no-fire zones – no other casualties may be mourned. Former LTTE burial sites have been erased in the north and military monuments mark the site of major battles. In effect what continues to be lost is the experience of Tamils affected by the war. That is why I wonder whether, if I had recourse to the sounds and figures of Tamil, to the expressions and phrases and cadences of speaking and reading Tamil, I might also find another route to grieve and remember and commemorate that would allow me to move around the contested terrain of the war’s aftermath. In this contested terrain, so I am realizing, the history I have just described is disbelieved by some. In order to even remember what has been lost, I have to make a case for it. And to make the case I have to retell this story – a story that is part of me, although I did not experience its effects firsthand, although my family did, because I left Sri Lanka when I was almost six. So, my grief came from watching at a distance, it was formed from a place of safety for people I did not personally know. But retelling what I grieve for requires finding a language within a language, it means framing within recognizable forms, describing using recognizable signs, summarizing using familiar terms. Because, commemorating these acts of genocide when they take place in non-western countries also requires producing their reality for the west. But language has also been politicized in Sri Lanka; In 1956, under the Official Language Act No. 33 Sinhala was declared the only official language, replacing English which had been imposed under British colonial rule. It was only in 1988 that Tamil was legislated as an official administrative language of the country (not just the north-east region as was legislated by the 1958 Tamil (Special Provisions) Language Act). Language in Sri Lanka is so inextricably linked to identity, has been so carefully legislated to divide communities and generations and is now identified as a key component of the post-conflicted reconciliation process. Because of this importance, where and how we recount these narratives becomes all the more urgent. As V V Ganeshanthanan writes, to mourn these deaths requires a series of retelling: I must retell not only the version of the story I consider the truest and the worst, but also the versions in which no one died, or in which those who died are unworthy of mourning. My words must reenact and contain not only the deaths and my grief, but also their negation. One must parse and explain what is lost. Yes, lives. Also, land. And homes. And then there is the matter of those who have not been returned, who remain in camps awaiting resettlement, somewhere between lost and found. Always we remember those who have been taken away and remain unknown – neither lost nor found, neither alive nor dead. Lost too is trust, or at least a belief that politicians might work towards some kind of reconciliation and return of Tamil civil rights. When the war ended, then President Rajapaksa announced this ‘liberation’ from terrorism was the beginning of a new phase of unification. And yet, only recently has the government acknowledged there may have been some civilian deaths as a result of their scorched earth policy of attack. The UN – who vacated their workers from the conflict zone before the war ended – has found both the government and the LTTE to be guilty of human rights abuses, but transitional justice has never been fully implemented. Discrimination, surveillance and censorship continue. And while the government does not acknowledge its role in the Tamil genocide, it is equally important to acknowledge the role of the LTTE in this loss. For while loss can be a catalyst for collective mourning, in the case of Sri Lanka its politicization continues to sustain competing visions of nationalism that underpinned the war in the first place. The politicization of grief in the aftermath of the war’s end is all the more painful and violent because it means that remembrance requires first working through the instrumentalization of loss, before even beginning to reach a place from which to build our memorials. In parsing, I find it hard to hold onto and center grief because each time grief overwhelms me. When I am overwhelmed, I have a tendency towards turning away and finding distance. And for me, experiencing this war and its aftermath has always been mediated through distance: grief is for those I do not know, for a community I left long ago, for a country in which I am almost a stranger. In these moments I cannot help but wonder: if I spoke my mother tongue still, would I be able to find some way of bridging this distance? Would I find a space to say those names who have been lost or speak the towns and villages erased, or find some poetry or song that framed this loss for me, in another private way? Speaking about his own relationship to Tamil, writer Anuk Arudpragasam has explained in interviews, that speaking English in Sri Lanka is a public marker of a certain status achieved and, maintained. It is a colonial language, a language I have had to move with in order to appear recognizable. I had probably started losing my tongue before I even began to speak. English is a language in which loss can become internationally validated in our western political landscape, making it both highly publicized and easily politicized. This would be the case, no doubt, whenever one is dealing with any language that is hegemonic. But when you no longer have any other language with which to probe an inner, unseen world of mourning, your memorialization must always and only take place in public, its validity dependent, so it seems, on being recognized.It is this relationship between public and private validation that acts of commemoration must mediate: a memorial creates the space for communal remembrance, threading what is expressed privately into a shared narrative. Without a physical place to perform these acts of public remembrance, official forms of language – and phrasing – also become significant markers. For example, in Sri Lanka civilian deaths are only begrudgingly underacknowledged by the Sri Lankan government as collateral damage, but they have no public space of remembrance, in the country itself. Tamil women continue however to sustain the public work of remembrance as they search for loved ones. Refusing government directives, these women create shrines and distribute posters that compel us to not forget. Tamil artist Thamotharampillai Shanaathanan has compiled an archive of living memories in his artist book The Incomplete Thombu. Re-using a Dutch word for land registry, his public registry is a collection of memories of home, drawn and recounted by the communities forced to flee from the Jaffna peninsula. The book is divided into drawings, topographical renderings of participant’s homes as they remembered them for many are destroyed and a typed narrative. Using the language of ‘accounting’ or accountability that underpins the competing discourses around the war – the need to prove or collect evidence that certain things happened and certain things did not – he transforms this bureaucratic violence into a receptacle that commemorates what has been lost. Shanaathanan’s act of storytelling, which is also an act of reclamation of the lost from the erasure of the official record, is itself a powerful form of memorialization in the shelter it provides for those displaced. Along with other projects such as Sareesinthewind and Stories of Resilience, these forms of storytelling also rewrite the narrative of Tamil survivors. The women, men and children who tell their stories voice their struggle and their perseverance: they are not merely victims. And so I think of these projects often as I contemplate what it is to commemorate the ten-year anniversary of the end of the Sri Lankan war, without either a public space in which to come together with others, or the familial language by which to vocalize something like a shared memory. They are stories of women and men who have, as V V Ganeshanthanan also urges, refused to be defined by catastrophe, who have built, using what they have, their stories, a memorial to what has been lost. Their voices generously create space for careful forms of witness. Their stories urge us to continue the call for the restoration of Tamil civil rights and, particularly in this current climate of social and political unrest, to work against the cultures of violence and religious extremism that are tacitly ignored (or otherwise) by government administrations who continue to fall back on restrictive measures of securitization. It is from this space that I will be remembering the ten-year anniversary on May 19th, while I also begin the long and arduous journey to reclaim my mothertongue. Anna Arabindan Kesson was born in Sri Lanka but grew up in Australia and New Zealand. She was a nurse for several years before completing a PhD in African American Studies and Art History in 2014. She now lives in Philadelphia and is Assistant Professor of Black Diaspora Art at Princeton University where she writes and teaches about art, race and empire. Twitter @AnnaArabindan

[skyblue-ringpops]

Newsies in other time periods

If the Newsies characters weren’t in 1899, here’s the time periods I think they would best fit!

Jack: The Renaissance. To be more specific, probably the mid 1400s to early 1500s since that was around the time the more notable artists lived. I feel like he’d also be heavily involved in the art world, since he is an artist. He’d also have Michelangelo energy. I also feel like he’d be involved in philosophy, mainly focusing on independence and paving your own path rather than following the examples of others.

Davey: Ancient Greece. He has the scholarly vibes. He would be a philosopher as well as a writer and teacher. He would probably be heavily involved in all aspects of society, such as politics, education, philosophy, etc.. He seems like the guy that everyone would look up to and would go down in history for his knowledge and thoughts. He has Athena vibes

Katherine: I honestly don’t want to move her to a different period. She fits the times so well. However, if I have to choose, I’d pick the 1920s. She would be heavily involved in suffrage, of course. And she would still be a reporter. I don’t think she would be a flapper herself, but she would greatly admire their lifestyle and always write articles praising them.

Crutchie: America’s colonial times. I don’t know why, he just gives me colonist vibes. I feel like he’d be that kid that’s always pranking people, but nobody ever believed it was him because he’d seem innocent. Like, he’d happily agree to go to church with his parents, but would release a squirrel mid service. You know those ghost stories about colonial boys throwing stuff and making random noises just to bother people? That’s Crutchie.

Race: The 1930s. Race would probably be just like Bonnie and Clyde. He’d be a robber for sure. And he’d be good at it. However, he is dumb, and everyone knows it. So nobody thinks he’s guilty. He’s not smart enough to get away with robbery! But he is, and he’s amazing at it.

Spot: The 1960s. He just screams The Outsiders. He’s a greaser for sure. Big Dally vibes. He’s the cool kid that everyone looks up to, and they all want to be part of his “gang”. And yes, he does have a rival gang. His gang is basically the same energy as the Brooklyn newsies. 

Albert: American Revolution. He’s a kid, so he isn’t entirely sure about what’s going on. However, he is definitely anti-British, partially just to say he is. He’d get involved in everything he could, just to say he was there. He even watches the battles, which his father (who probably fights in the war) doesn’t appreciate. 

Sarah: The 1940s. She has movie star vibes for some reason. I feel like she’d be a famous actress, but humble. She wouldn’t use her money to buy fancy things...until she used it to help her family. She would live a more glamorous lifestyle later on, but family comes first.

JoJo: 1500s England. He gives Henry VIII vibes for some reason, so he was definitely alive during his rule. And he did idolize him. He loved how he just made his own rules and wanted to be like that. Well...maybe without the killing his wives part. Maybe. I do feel like JoJo would be the son of a noble and constantly pretend he’s a prince.

Les: I feel like he, like Crutchie, would be in Colonial America. He’d be like Crutchie’s partner in crime. Yes, they’d be friends. It’d be chaotic. They would always prank people together. When Crutchie grows up and stops with his mischief, everyone’s relieved...until they remember Les exists. And Les is much more chaotic, since he was trained.

Romeo: Shakespearean era. He would go see Romeo and Juliet’s debut, and he’d love it. He’d be Shakespeare’s biggest fan and see all his plays. He’d reenact them and dream of being in one. But he can’t act. He recites Shakespeare’s sonnets to every girl he meets. He dreams of being a playwright himself, but he isn’t very good at them. He also makes up his own words, names, and phrases, but they never catch on.

Smalls: Russian Revolution. Remember, she is very chaotic. So she just runs around spreading chaos. And she is very much an anarchist. She is invested in the Romanov story and wants to find and befriend Anastasia. She also idolizes Rasputin. I mean...can you blame her?

Tommy Boy: Modern. He just has modern vibes. I feel like he’d be an athlete. He has big tough guy vibes. He’d probably play football, maybe hockey. And he would be amazing at it. I don’t really know about sports though, so I won’t get into detail about it. He would also retire to be the coach of the top college team.

Mush: 1920s. He would be very involved in the culture of the time. He’d be dancing all the time and if you need him, he’s probably at the speakeasy. He’d probably become a performer as well. He just loves a good time.

Oscar Delancey: 2005. He’d be an emo. It’s true, don’t deny it. He loves MCR. He wears black eyeliner. And he is feral. He probably likes metal too. He always says he’s not like other boys and it’s not a phase. He wants to be Pete Wentz.

Morris Delancey: Salem, Massachusetts, 1692. Yep, the Salem Witch Trials. And he would be tried. He was probably accused for no reason, thought it was a joke, said something stupid during his trial, and executed. I have no idea why he gives me witch vibes, but he does.

Henry: Again, modern. He’d own a small deli. It’s a family business. He’d been working there for as long as he could remember, and knows he’ll inherit it someday. Eventually, it begins to grow in popularity. One day, it becomes a famous deli.

Specs: Early America. He feels like the type to look up to Ben Franklin. He loves his inventions and wants to be a famous inventor himself one day. He starts creating random things out of whatever he can find in his home. They’re not very good at first, but progressively get better and better. One day, he achieves his dream of becoming an inventor.

Buttons: 17th or 18th century. He’d be the son of the town’s tailor and would often help out. He ended up being an amazing tailor as well, and everyone loved his work. He liked to add his own twist to things, so many people could recognize his work at a glance.

Finch: World War II. I feel like he would fight, and he’d do it by choice. An older relative, maybe a brother or his father, would be drafted, and that would inspire him to join as well. He’s a good fighter, and he’s very passionate about the causes, but doesn’t enjoy the war and can’t wait for it to end.

Elmer: 1980s. He just gives me 80s vibes. He’d always go on little adventures with his friends and siblings and act out his favorite movies. He especially likes the ones about kids like him that lived much cooler lives. Think E.T. and Goonies. He doesn’t want to be an actor in those movies, he wants to be a character.

[matsumi101]

Who is this Kid?

Crossdressing Fem!Reader Hamilton Insert

The Art of Deception

Description:

Ghosts aren’t meant to be seen, but Alexander had to play the white knight in an unknowingly controlled situation.

———————————

Warnings: swearing, drinking mentions, death mentions, awkward make-out session (it’s not what you think im sorry)

———————————

Notes:

> Masterlist

> Read from the beginning.

> “F/N” means fake name and “Y/N” means your real first name

> This is more of a drabble really, answering the financial issues mentioned from the prior chapter

> There’s going to be a sudden shift of third person to second person in a paragraph, so keep an eye for that

———————————

Taglist (if u wanna be added do tell!)

@thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth  @cutie1365 @girlmadeofivory @i-honestly-dont-know-anymore  @takemyhand-bitch @hamiltrashqueer​

———————————

“Another one?” a fleeting voice whispered.

“Yeah, his body was found floating in a river,” another responded.

“This is the what? Third body?”

“Has anyone caught the culprit?”

“No, but whoever he is, he’s only targeting the redcoats.”

Rumors continued to float around the air from one mouth to another’s ears. At first they paid no mind to it, but when the gossips started to circulate within the tavern walls, they couldn’t help but grow curious. Who in the right mind would be going around taking down redcoats within the British-infested streets of New York? Someone apparently, and the public had yet to find out who this ghost is, and why their actions started only two weeks ago, long before the ball.

“Think it could be one of us?” Lafayette inquired.

“Possibly. Know someone within your group who’d do that?” Alexander replied thoughtfully, turning to look at Hercules.

The four men kept their voices hushed. They sat outside the tavern instead of being usually inside, knowing how dangerous the information they’re discussing was. Hercules shook his head, taking a long swig of his beer. “I know there’s history of tar and feathering Loyalists, but I don’t think we’ve gone so far as to murder soldiers,” he answered quietly, knowing that Alexander was referring to the Sons of Liberty. “Dude, the ones in Boston burned a whole-ass office over a decade ago,” Alexander pointed out, drumming his fingers on the table. “Anyways, whoever this guy is, he’s being really smart, and is apparently on our side.”

A few beats passed. “Yo, John,” Alexander spoke up. “You good?” The called man blinked, glancing up from his drink. “Yeah, just don’t want to drink too much right now,” he stifled an awkward cough. “I don’t want an reenactment of what happened to me and F/N tonight.” The three rightfully laughed at his statement, being the witnesses of the mess the two of them became the night after the ball. Though his reasoning was partially true, he was personally troubled by something more.

When he woke up from his afternoon sleep the day he forced you to rest, he was only greeted with an empty house. Your clothes were gone from the clothesline where he left them to dry, and his own clothes that you borrowed were folded neatly at the guestroom’s bed, which was also fixed up. Any trace of your presence was gone, aside from the plate of dinner and a thank you note you left on his table before you left early evening. You had stolen away the papers and ink as well, but John didn’t mind that last bit, if it meant getting the chance of getting some contact with you.

A couple passed by, the girl giggling at whatever her drunken redcoat partner had said. Naturally, the guys shot the man heated glares, and they weren’t being subtle about it. The British soldier caught their looks, and just as his face contorted to that of fury, the woman pulled him away. She whispered something to him, her gloved hand over his ear, and the man’s lopsided grin appeared again. He snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her close and shying her away from the group’s view. As they walked away, Alexander threw out an insult at them.

The woman nearly froze at his voice, but she kept her composure and continued her pace. She turned her head, but before she could even get a view of the table the soldier leaned onto her, almost causing them to stumble. “You going to keep staring at them love or are we going to have a good time?” the man crooned, and it took all your will not to slap him across the face. Instead, you curled your mouth to a sultry smile, trailing your fingers up from his chest to his jaw.

“Excited, are we?”

“Mmm, very.”

Since you were now some distance away, the squad had already lost interest, except for John. It was dark out, so your features were barely visible, but he couldn’t help but stare to double check. He paid no attention to whatever topic his friends brought up, his straining his eyes to look at you deal with the heavily intoxicated enemy soldier. He watched as the man pulled you into the alleyway, and when you pushed some curled hair off to reveal your familiar eyes was then his assumptions were fully confirmed.

“Y/N...”

“Wait what?!”

John flinched, not realizing that he had said it out loud. He turned back to his friends, their eyes as wide as his, if not, bigger. “Laurens, did we hear you right?” Lafayette was the first to speak. “That it was Y/N who’s with the redcoat?” John stuttered, trying to find his words. He would’ve been immediately honest, but right now he had to cover you up. You established how much you were avoiding interaction with him and the other soldiers, but right now his slip-up was difficult to make an excuse out of.

“Wait, what if Y/N’s in trouble?” Alexander concluded.

Panic was strewn across John’s face. He was about to speak, but Alexander beat him to it. “She might be being held at gunpoint by that lobsterback! We have to help her!” Alexander declared, already standing up. “Wait, Alexander-!” Hercules tried to pull Alexander back to his seat, but Alexander dodged his hand and was stalking over to the alleyway where you disappeared. John was the first to chase him down, followed by Hercules, and then Lafayette.

“Alexander!”

The exclamation was all but a whisper when Hercules managed to pull the shorter man back before he could turn the corner, firmly clasping a hand over Alexander’s mouth to keep him from making too loud of a noise. He pressed his back against the wall, wrapping his other arm around Alexander so he wouldn’t thrash around too much for him to handle. John and Lafeyette followed suit, with Lafayette moving to the other building just behind an empty cart.

“Alex, I’m going to be real straight with you,” Hercules whispered to the man struggling in his hold, “if that girl really is Y/N, I don’t think she’d be going around with a British so openly without a reason. She might be in an undercover mission. Take it from me.”

Not waiting to interpret whatever Alexander said through his hand, Hercules peered into the alleyway. John was craning his neck in front of him, while Alexander tried to look from where he was. The night was already dark as it is, but with little to no light in the small space it was hard to make out what was happening there. Hercules squinted his eyes at the two figures moving in the darkness, trying to register what was happening. When he did though, he was only able to let out a tiny “oh” of surprise and distaste.

You were pinned to the wall, the drunken man peppering your lips and neck with the sloppiest kisses you could ever imagine. You could normally deal with that and the reeking scent of alcohol and tobacco lingering in men’s mouths and clothes, but the godforsaken dash of red draped around this soldier was reminding you endlessly of what kind of person you were making out with, and it was both a blessing and a curse as it helped you remember why you were doing this.

The soldier grazed his tongue over your bottom lip, silently asking for entrance. You breathed out a no, earning a displeased noise reverberating from the man’s throat. He dug his nails painfully into your hips, making you squeak at the uncomfortable sensation. He took this opportunity and roughly shoved his tongue into your mouth, muffling whatever noise of protest you were going to make. You had to make a move now if you wanted to get out of this situation soon, and hopefully as discreetly as possible. Your hand reached over for the top of the crate to your right, trying to grab on the item sitting on top, but it was a shy inch away for you to comfortably reach for it.

Sighing internally, you tried to move a bit closer without being obvious, but just as you were about to get your fingers wrapped around the object, a series of yelps and screams caused you to miss your aim and instead pushed the object further away. The man parted away from you, and before he could process anything a hand reached out for him and pulled him back completely. His vice-like grip on you was released, and the next thing you knew there were more yelling.

“Get the fuck away from her!”

“What the hell?”

“The bloody fuck are you?!”

“Dude, stop!”

“You’re harassing her you shit!”

“Well aren’t you one nosy little fuck! This ain’t your business, gremlin.”

“What did you call me?!”

“What, you deaf as you are short?”

“Oh, you’re asking for it!”

“Alexander!”

Alexander was just about ready to swing a punch at the British soldier, but in the split second before his knuckles could make contact with the Brit’s nose, there was a loud wham that was immediately followed by the redcoat dropping to the ground. He stepped back, staring at the now unconscious man that remained unmoving by his feet. After a beat of silence, Hercules, John, and Lafayette finally went out from their hiding spots (though at this point hiding was useless as they’ve been screaming alongside Alexander), having watched the whole thing unfold.

“Are you stupid?”

You were panting as you leaned on the broken wooden railing that you’ve been trying to reach for earlier. You pushed your hair from your face slicked with sweat, careful not to push them above your head, as you glared disapprovingly at Alexander. The rest of the group went up behind him, awe and familiarity written all over their faces at the sight of you. “That man,” you pushed yourself up to wave the pole over to the body on the floor, “had a gun in his person-”

“I told you she was held at gunpoint!” Alexander interjected.

You stared at him with disbelief. “I—that wasn’t the point you dumb fuck!” you screeched, causing Alexander to flinch. Hercules whistled lowly at your cussing while Lafayette had a disapproving eyebrow raised. John remained silent, not really wanting to react outwardly at the moment. “First of all, I wasn’t helpless. I got the situation under control. Secondly, you tried to fistfight an armed man, and quite frankly I don’t want it to be your corpse I’m seeing floating down the river tonight, Hamilton,” you chided. Alexander gawked with slowly widening eyes, his mind already piecing everything together in that very moment.

“Wait a second,” he breathed. “The rumors, those were you?!”

You hummed nonchalantly, already bent down and rifling through the man’s coats. “Where the fuck is it,” you mumbled angrily, frantically searching for something in his pockets. Alexander took another step back, not really wanting to be within range if you decided to swing the pole again at someone. After a few moments, you pulled out a small pouch and a slightly wrinkled envelope.

“Whoo! This one’s loaded,” you chirped, weighing the pouch in one hand.

You stood up, opening the pouch to reveal that it was filled with coins. You threw a few pence at Hercules, who fumbled to catch it in surprise at your actions. “Your next round’s on me,” you announced with a wink at him. You stepped over the body to Alexander, who nearly stepped back again as you had the piece of railing in your hand once more. You pressed the letter to his chest, and he instinctively placed a hand over it to keep it from falling.

“The General might find this useful, but keep me anonymous and we won’t have a problem.”

Having stepped a bit out of the alleyway, one could notice that there was a light layer of makeup covering your face. Your lipstick was now smeared across one side of your cheek, but none of the boys had the courage to point it out. “Do we have an agreement, Hamilton?” you hummed impatiently. You still had your own hand on the letter, ready to rip it from the man’s grasp if he ever declines.

“Y-yeah...” Alexander cleared his throat. “I mean, yes, of course.”

You nodded approvingly, pulling away from him. “I suppose we don’t need any reintroductions,” you said decisively, glancing over to everyone. They already saw how you looked at the ball, so you did your best to mimic that look every time you went out in a dress.

You looked back at Alexander. “Hamilton,” you murmured with a nod. “Mulligan.” You turned to Hercules, who gave a slow, confirming nod. “Lafayette.” You couldn’t help but smirk just by a fraction when the said man lit up at your recognition of him. Last was John, and unlike the first three, your gaze stayed. Your eyes met, and the worries that the man held shone through despite the darkness. And yet, it was a second too long for the others not to grow suspicious of your silence.

“Laurens,” you finally said.

You picked yourself up much faster than John, facing the rest the second you composed yourself. “Took me a bit to remember,” you lied smoothly, and hadn’t John known your real reason for your lingering gaze he would’ve believed you as well. You turned around, looking down at the still unconscious redcoat. “I suppose this one can live,” you mused quietly. You wordlessly dragged the body over to the crate, ignoring the questioning stares behind you.

You propped the man so that he sat slouching over the crate. You tipped his hat over his eyes, then taking the flask you found clipped to his belt. You took a sip first before pouring some on the floor, making a crooked trail that made its way to the redcoat’s boots and pants then finally ending it near his hand. You placed the flask in his hand, keeping it uncapped and tilted so that there was a bit of liquor dripping to the floor. You stepped back, careful with your dress to make sure it didn’t dip onto the spilled alcohol.

You hummed thoughtfully, eyeing the scene that you made. “Does he look like a passed-out drunk?” you inquired casually, turning your head to the guys. Surprisingly, they were silent the entire time you were doing this. “I’m sure flasks don’t spill as much like that, but other than that I think you got what you wanted,” Alexander answered readily. You hummed again, thanking him for his input.

“So... this is what you do? Seduce British men and murder them in cold blood within the dark of the night?” Alexander then followed up.

“Only the ones with information.”

You glanced down at the pouch that you looted from the body. “It pays nicely, too,” you humored, tossing the bag once. “How are you getting away with all this?” John was the next to ask. He was genuinely curious, and it seemed like it was a mutual question for everyone. You glanced at him, then to the others. “Do you really think people would assume someone that could be compared to a harlot would be capable enough of doing these things?” you asked rhetorically. You eyed them, scanning for their reactions, then huffing when they didn’t respond.

“Yeah, I thought so.”

You picked up the railing that had been lying on the ground, dragging it back to the top of the crate. “Now, it’s best for everyone to move along,” you advised. You looked at Alexander, your eyes narrowing to a glare. “I’m trying to stay hidden, and talking to you four is the exact opposite of it.” Alexander looked like he was overly offended, picking up the fact that you were glaring right at him. “Hold on, why are you angry at just me?” he hissed.

“You, monsieur, nearly ruined my mission, that’s why!”

You heard a quiet “I told you so” that was covered by a cough, and you could only assume it was from Hercules based on how Alexander glared at the other man. “Regardless, the next time you see me, day or night, don’t even dare to approach me without a good reason,” you warned, walking away. The four men watched you head to the other street, with Lafayette noticing the stains that lined the bottom of your skirt like a mundane decoration in place of the laces or ribbons. It was riddled with dirt, blood, and whatever else it could’ve picked up along your way.

“Mademoiselle.”

Everyone moved to face Lafayette. The Frenchman shuffled uncomfortably, having realized that he called you before he could reconsider his choice, or what to say next. “Would you like a new dress sewn?” he offered almost shyly. You furrowed your eyebrows at his sudden offer, consciously looking down at your seemingly fine outfit before going back to him. “What’s wrong with my dress now?” you asked, biting back the aggressive tone that almost slipped out of your tongue.

“Nothing, ange! It’s just that, it would appear that you’ve worn that for quite a while now... and I thought... maybe you’d need another one.”

Now he wasn’t exactly wrong, considering that you packed lightly. You bit your lip, contemplating on the risks. “You’re paying for the tailor?” you assumed, looking at Hercules knowingly. Lafayette seemed to catch your gaze and followed it. “Of course! This tailleur will take good care of you!” he assured, slinging an arm over Hercules. You smiled, the first genuine one that night, but it quickly disappeared when your eyes trailed over to John. The freckled man helplessly shrugged, leaving the choice entirely up to you.

I did say I’d agree to even a bit of help... you thought.

“Okay, then.”

You turned around again, hiding the smile creeping to your face. “I’ll be at the shop at one in the afternoon in two days,” you told them loud enough to hear. You walked away, hearing their voices call after you. “Do you even know where the shop is?” Hercules asked worriedly. You snickered, waving a hand over your shoulder.

“I know enough about all of you as much as you know nothing of me.”

———————————

And you weren’t lying about that. Two days later, you found yourself in front of a familiar tailor shop a minute before one. You moved your hand up, hesitating to open the oak wood door painted in a relaxing deep blue. You took a deep sigh to calm yourself, wanting to get the measurements done as quickly as possible. I can do this, you mentally chanted, pushing the door open.

The shopkeeper’s bell chimed happily above, and the person sitting on the reception table lowered the newspaper to reveal that he was Hercules. He grinned widely, his bored expression dissolving almost instantly at the sight of you. “Y/N! Nice to see you again,” he greeted cheerily, moving around the table to meet you. You smiled just as warmly, stretching a hand out for a handshake, but to your surprise Hercules went to kiss your knuckles. It was then you had to remind yourself who you presented yourself as.

“Always a pleasure to grace your presence with my own,” you teased.

Hercules laughed, letting go of your hand. “Confident, couldn’t expect less from you,” he shot back humorously, and you giggled. After hanging your coat, he led you to the dressing room, which was a lot larger than you anticipated, where he instructed you to take your dress and scarf off while he left to get some things to get your measurements. You were left with only your shifts and corset. You stared at the mirror on the wall, tracing the toned muscles of your arms.

“Okay, I’m back...”

You looked over your shoulder through the mirror and saw Hercules gaping at you. “So, do you gawk at every female customer you have to measure or am I just that special?” you sassed after a few seconds of standing still. You watched Hercules awkwardly shake himself awake, the paranoia building up inside you. Despite your remark, deep down you felt a little insecure and vulnerable. Being physically exposed made you feel like you were emotionally exposed as well, and it didn’t put you in any form of ease.

“I-I, sorry. It’s just that...” Hercules coughed embarrassedly. “Well, at least I know that the guy from two nights ago wouldn’t have been awake ‘til morning after you knocked him out.”

You chuckled. “Thanks, I guess,” you sighed. Hercules began to take your measurements, his awkwardness dissipating as he now focused on making sure he got everything right. He made no snarky comment on your muscled body, and for that you were thankful. He didn’t at all speak about it until he was now measuring your arms for the sleeves.

“Do you want me to keep the sleeves loose?” he asked.

You blinked, your unreadable gaze meeting his expecting one. “That would be nice,” you mumbled bleakly. Hercules nodded wordlessly, jotting something down on his papers before resuming. The measuring continued in silence until Hercules spoke up again.

“I might be intruding with this, but I’ve taken plenty of people’s measurements enough to understand if someone’s conscious of their body or not, and I think it’s safe to say you’re one of them.”

You looked at Hercules again. “Imagine my shock when I saw how muscular you are, and don’t get me wrong, it was a pleasant surprise,” he began. “I’m pretty sure you can clock someone in the face without staggering, and that’s really cool.” You couldn’t help but smile a bit at his enthusiasm. “But it’s making you insecure. Why?”

“It... doesn’t make me very lady-looking.”

You inhaled sharply, expecting Hercules to laugh loudly at your pathetic reasoning. Instead, he nodded understandingly. “Well, it doesn’t hinder you from having every lobsterback you come across wrapped around your fingers, and the events from the other night proved that quite well.” he noted quietly, writing something down on his paper. “Perhaps, but sometimes I can’t help it,” you admitted. “I may’ve gotten their attention, but between you and me I never really let my mission come any close to being bed by them.” Hercules hummed thoughtfully.

“Well, it’s my job to make you pretty dresses, and I’ll make sure my designs will compensate for what you think you lack,” he assured. “Though, in my own opinion, I think you look perfect, Y/N.”

You glanced at him, smirking slightly. “I’m flattered, Herc,” you muttered, placing a hand over your chest with an exaggerated look to hide the fact that you were actually moved with his encouragement. Hercules rolled his eyes, picking up his things. “Now I feel like you said that just to milk more compliments out of me,” he mused jokingly, ducking out of the dressing room. You huffed, picking up your dress you kept on a stool. “Even if I did, I wasn’t the one that brought the topic up,” you shot back.

“Fair point,” Hercules agreed, “but I’m serious about what I said. If someone says otherwise, just punch them in the face.”

“I might seriously consider that if I wasn’t keeping a low profile,” you hummed as you put your dress back on.

You could hear Hercules’ laugh coming from somewhere in the shop. after getting fully dressed, you checked to make sure your makeup was still intact before framing your face with some of your hair and wrapping your neck with your scarf. When you exited the dressing room, Hercules was about to pass by you. He casually pinched your cheek before heading back to the front desk, and you growled at his action.

“What was that for?!” you hissed.

“No reason,” Hecules replied cheekily.

You glared at him, returning to the front to get your coat from the rack. “I’d love to keep you here and talk, but considering the circumstances it’d best you leave soon,” Hercules pointed out. You nodded in agreement, looking over to the snow-covered streets outside. You knew about his current job past being just a tailor's apprentice, and quite frankly it wasn't safe to talk about it at all. When did you get the time to know about his status as a spy? You knew about it because John told you about it, and Hercules must've understood that you could be trusted enough.

You strode over to Hercules, pulling a small envelope and sliding it over the desk. Hercules was quick to snatch the envelope, tucking it under the books stacked on the table without looking even the tiniest bit tense.

“Some information, and a request with my dress if you don’t mind that,” you whispered.

Hercules nodded, a store clerk smile etched to his face. “You can come back for one of your dresses in a week,” he informed. “There’s an unclaimed dress that would suit you well, I just need to adjust it.” You nodded and turned to leave, but then faced him again.

“Dresses?” you repeated.

“Yep!” Hercules confirmed. “Lafayette paid me to make you three, and I’ll be damned by my mentor if we didn’t take that order,” explained. You opened your mouth to protest with it, but Hercules spoke again before you could. “All’s paid in full, and we have a strict no refund policy here.” You glared at him disbelievingly, but he merely shrugged.

“I smell bullshit, Herc.”

“Must be the cattle farm a few blocks away.”

“You boys are unbelievable.”

“That’s how we are, doll. I thought you’d be used to it by now.”

Hercules winked, picking up the newspaper that he was reading earlier ago. “Now, let’s move along,” he sang, mimicking your words from before. “Yeah, we should,” you agreed with the same mocking tone. You pulled the door open, the cold air forcing itself into the warm place as the bell rung softly. You glanced over your shoulder, noting that Hercules was back to the position you saw him when you first entered the place.

You wondered what would happen in the next few days, hopefully nothing too eventful.

[gastrobrack]

Brave New World 2020 review from probably the biggest fan of the book you’ll meet in your life

(Mostly Spoiler Free) Okay so. I’ve been waiting for this show for a really long time because I absolutely love the book and it means a lot to me. My standards were admittedly pretty low because it can’t get worse than the 1998 movie, so I didn’t really mind when I saw the trailers and stuff where other people were complaining. 

TL;DR I thought the show was actually pretty enjoyable, but you have to read the book first in my opinion, or else it seems like it would be hard to follow at times. Where the show really screwed up royally was Mond’s storyline, which felt completely out of place and confusing, and when it ended up dominating the end of the final episode it just kinda ruined the story for me. The show is definitely more focused on the setting and characters than the societal predictions and themes of the novel, and for me that’s okay because we have the book to tell it better anyways.  I’d say watch it if you liked the book or are curious about it, but I don’t think it would really be enjoyable for the average viewer.

Side note: I watched this in the wee hours of the morning and some of the praise might just be the special interest talking, I’m just happy to be here and get more content

That being said, I think this show is like the Riverdale of Brave New World. However, in its defense it’s at least got the energy of the parts of Riverdale like the “epic highs and lows of high school football” and the “serial killer gene”, so it’s at least pretty funny. Personally, I knew that they would have to change a lot both to adjust for the longer runtime (around 9 hours) and to make the book enjoyable to a TV audience, because of course in the book you can have 2 chapters of exposition at the beginning and that’s not as enjoyable for a TV experience. So, let’s get into the pros and cons of the show!

PROS

-I really liked Bernard! In the book he means a lot to me personally (hell, I’m writing this while listening to my Bernard playlist) so I was of course kinda worried they might screw him up again like they did in the ‘98 movie, but I was pleasantly surprised! They did change him and divide his original personality between John and Lenina, but somehow they managed to create a new Bernard that both kept me on my toes and at the same time felt authentic and likeable! 

-Honestly, almost all the characters were done very well. They were all expanded upon in an interesting way while also staying generally pretty accurate to their book counterparts. I generally felt the same about them as I did with the novel, so I think that means they did a job well done. I think that John and Lenina were very different, but they still ultimately had the same general motivations. A lot of the cast’s interactions felt very natural, and I liked that they expanded upon Lenina and Fanny’s (or Frannie as she’s called here) friendship. 

-The show looked great, I know a lot of people really didn’t like the look of it because it wasn’t what they thought it would be when they read it, but for me that’s basically exactly what I imagined it would be. The costume designer clearly had fun making a bunch of outlandish outfits for everyone to wear and it’s all very pleasant to look at. 

-I think they did a good job fixing some of the problematic elements of the book without actually damaging the integrity of the things they were changing. For example, in the book, the savage reservation is quite literally just a native reservation, written in a way that clearly suggests Huxley didn’t really put a lot of thought into his depiction of real people. In the show, it’s a theme park where British people get to immerse themselves in the cultures of the old world, with the savages themselves being poor theme park workers reenacting events to shock and mystify the Brits. Now, admittedly, I think this makes a lot more sense as it ties into the consumerism that runs deep within their society. I know some people are mad about this because they think it’s cancel culture or something but honestly it’s not a big deal to me.

-This one might not be as important to some people, but I liked that the cast was pretty diverse, and the fact that John is the only straight one honestly made sense to me considering it would be in the World State’s best interest to encourage bisexuality amongst its citizens. Some of the characters (Helmholtz and Mond) are being played by women, and some people are kinda upset about that but I don’t really think it changed too much, although to me it is funny to think the showrunner thought he was doing something by “casting women of color to play white male characters” considering everyone I know who read the book didn’t picture either of them as white. 

-Honestly, I think the show did humor very well. It was very funny in a sort of dry way, and never felt forced or out of place. It all seemed like it naturally stemmed from the characters’ awkwardness and culture shock (on both sides) and it made me really happy as someone who loves all these characters to see them make me laugh.

CONS

-Now, I’m not usually one to complain about this too much, seeing as I love the book in a non thematic and academic context, but the message kinda got lost in all of it. I think the issues they brought up certainly were there, and could lend themselves very well to being good. The writers just focused on the entirely wrong things in the last episode, and that misguided focus completely changes the lens in which the rest of the show is retroactively viewed for me. 

-Mustapha Mond was just, where do I even begin. In the book, Mond doesn’t show up much except to provide exposition, and his position as an authoritative figure ultimately moves the plot towards the end of the novel. In the show, Mond gets this weird AI plotline that makes no sense, as in this version they have a sort of internet contact lens type system that allows them to connect to everyone else, and it is powered by said AI. The system itself doesn’t bother me as much as how poorly handled this plotline was. Not only was it completely random and was the only plotline in the show not to have some sort of roots in the events of the book, but it was extremely confusing to me. This leads into my next point, which is:

-The ending. Oh my God the ending. Now, look. I’m not gonna say much because I want this to be as spoiler free as possible, but the ending just honestly was a dumpster fire. The writers chose to focus the whole ending on the aforementioned AI plotline, despite the book providing a much more solid framework for an ending that they already seemed to be setting up. This shift in focus comes very late into the final episode, and it honestly doesn’t make any sense why the writers would really want to go this route. It feels like they were just adding things that didn’t fit into the story, and I can’t really discern why except for the possibility of setting up an unnecessary second season. I love the book, it’s my special interest, but I think I speak for everyone when I say we do not need a second season especially if its gonna be full of plotlines that make no sense and serve no purpose.  This heavily changed ending not only undermines the whole thematic purpose of the novel but honestly kind of goes actively against everything the book was trying to say in the first place. 

-They really don’t set up any of the world building, and although I caught on very quickly due to my familiarity with the book, it seems like it might get confusing for unfamiliar watchers. In the book, they explain their process for birthing and then conditioning children into their social body very in depth before they get into the actual plot and characters, and I think this show could have used some of that. Here, they talk a lot about conditioning but don’t actually explain what the conditioning is or why they have the caste system in the first place. 

-This is a minor disappointment more than anything and I didn’t actually notice till about the second episode, but there’s no more Ford talk, which is kinda disappointing cause it was pretty fun in the book. 

-Obviously it goes without saying that there’s sex in this, I mean it IS Brave New World. However, in this one, it just feels excessive and kinda just like it’s there for shock value more than anything. 

-This isn’t really a con so much as it is just a disclaimer, I know a lot of people are excited for Demi Moore as Linda and Joseph Morgan as the new character CJack60, but don’t get your hopes up too much, they don’t get to do much. If you read the book, you’d know that about Linda but I’ve seen reviewers get upset that she wasn’t in it more when she was one of the big names attached to the project. (FWIW she did a great job and I loved Linda in this whereas I didn’t in the book) As for CJack, he spends a lot of time just standing there and looking at things and doesn’t get to do much until the last 2 episodes or so. 

CONCLUSION

As someone who really loves the book’s setting and characters sometimes even more than the actual messages and predictions, I’ve always wanted an adaptation that focuses more on those elements, especially since that would make for an easier transition to the screen. Seeing this was a very nice breath of fresh air, because it embraces the inherently satirical and dare I say funny aspect of the story, as well as the characters’ individual quirks and distinct personalities. Obviously it’s not as hard hitting and important as the book, but I think those messages were better left in book form anyway. For someone like me, who loves the book with all my heart, this show honestly gave me most everything I wanted and it felt the most true to the spirit of the book’s world and characters out of any of the adaptations. I would say check out the show if you’re interested in it or enjoyed the book, but you should definitely be familiar with the book before you watch this. 

[thefilmbay]

The Participatory Mode-  The styles of Louis Theroux

My Scientology Movie 

So what is a Louis Theroux documentary more importantly what is the My Scientology Movie?

My personal answer is of course it's entertaining. I mean who doesn’t want to watch a tall British man running round finding the truth. 

But in terms of study specifically looking at Bill Nichols documentary modes. It’s a participatory mode documentary but it does also have elements of Nichols other modes including observational and expository modes. This means to make the documentary it comprises of interviews and it's when the filmmakers themselves are a huge part of the documentary. They are either present on screen or there voice during interviews. 

Louis Theroux is always a major character within his documentaries 

My Scientology Movie is obviously the centre point and for many people he’s charisma is why you want to watch. He isn’t the main focus of course otherwise it wouldn’t be interesting in terms of discovering the facts of Scientology.

Yes he has the charisma is infatuating but he doesn’t take it seriously (he doesn’t take himself seriously).

The presents of Louis Theroux or any interviewer give a more emotional feel to the interview itself. It allows for an understanding of what is going on from a close up perspective from a person who was in that situation. This is so important as you would not get the same feel from an observational which is essentially filmed as though you’re a fly on the wall simply seeing what’s going on. There are no clear emotions. 

Interviews give an insight into what the person/people were thinking at a particular moment. 

I’ve spent so long talking about the importance of Louis Theroux but he isn’t what makes this a good documentary. Anyone can get a camera and start shooting but it’s the ways it's filmed and constructed that allow us as an audience to recognise this as a documentary. 

So what are these elements making Louis Theroux’ My Scientology Movie?

My Scientology Movie relies heavily on traveling around meeting people or chasing camera crews from the Scientology church. In Nichols’ 2001 Introduction to Documentary he says “documentary filmmakers also go into the field; they, too, live among others and speak about or represent what they experience.”. This is so evident throughout.One scene in particular where being in the field is potentially dangerous is when towards the end Louis and one of his actors were caught at night around The Golden Era Productions, one of the organisations run by the church of Scientology. The police were called and they were harassed by members of the church. Although there is a certain danger within this documentary it is also necessary to see the extent of what the church of Scientology is really capable of. It backs up what those in Louis Theroux interviews are really saying and accusing the church of doing.

The Participatory mode is most dominant in My Scientology Movie but it isn’t the only one there are some moments that feel observational. For instance the few on the interviews are shot whilst driving a car and because of Louis Theroux’ calming, colloquial ways of interviewing it feels a lot like conversation. One of the key aspects of the observational mode is feeling like a fly on the wall, watching people in their natural habitat acting as though there was no camera there. The conversational interview just being seen from a window gives that effect but it also gives a sense that it is personal and shouldn’t be really watched, but we come to learn that is exactly what occurs in Scientology. Every moment and different respect of different modes combined give the best ways to understand such a confusing secretive topic.

Another mode used is Expository. Expository is the most common form of documentary. It’s David Attenbrorough voice overs, Our Planet, Blue Planet and Planet Earth. Those shows and then voice over makes the audience think and realise that there is a problem in the world unless something changes. Louis Theroux uses the same voice over technique during the more distressing scenes such as the recreation on The Hole. The reenactment demonstrates the danger within scientology and his voiceover seems to act like a warning to the audience.

There is no way to conclude as there is no conclusion to state there is one mode used within this film there are aspects taken from every mode throughout. 

With all this is mind the documentary as a whole so intriguing and definitely deserves a watch.

[myhauntedsalem]

9 Signs of Your Past Life

Have you live before?

Here are 9 clues you might find in your present life

The idea that our souls or spirits reincarnate reaches back at least 3,000 years. Discussions of the subject can be found in the ancient traditions of India, Greece, and the Celtic Druids. It’s a tantalizing belief – that our spirits are not confined to the seven, eight, or nine decades of life on Earth (if we’re lucky), but that we have lived before and that we might live again.

What do you believe? Do you believe that you have had a past life or lives, growing up, working, loving, and suffering in roles very different from the one you are now playing out? Perhaps you were a different race, socio-economic class, or gender. Some even believe you could have been another living species entirely – a dog, gazelle, or fish perhaps.

Those who believe in past lives suggest that there might be clues to what our past lives were in the various complex aspects that make up our current physical, emotional, intellectual, and psychological personalities. Here are some of them.

DÉJÀ VU

Most of us have experienced the eerie feeling of déjà vu – the sudden, surprising feeling that an event we are going through at the moment has happened exactly this way before. Psychologist Arthur Funkhouser has broken down this phenomenon into sub-categories: déjà vécu – an event already experienced or lived through; déjà senti- already felt, perhaps triggered by a voice or music; and déjà visité – a place so familiar we feel we’ve been there before.

While scientists and psychiatrists insist there are neurological explanations for these phenomena, others wonder if these strange feelings could be vague, fleeting memories of past lives. You enter a house or building, for example, in a town you’ve never visited before. Yet every detail of that place is familiar. You know what’s in the next room and up the stairs. You have the overwhelming feeling that you’ve been there before. Have you – in a past life?

WEIRD MEMORIES

My daughter has “memories” of childhood events that we know never really happened. Is she just remembering a child’s fantasy, misunderstanding, or even a dream that she now interprets as reality? Or is sheremembering something that happened to her before she was born into this lifetime?

Human memory is a fraught with error and incongruities, and I’m sure many of us have memories of things that family and friends can attest never occurred. So the question is: Is it faulty memory or a remembrance of lives past?

DREAMS AND NIGHTMARES

Recurring dreams and nightmares also have been suggested as being memories or at least clues of past lives. I have experienced this type of recurring dream. There are two locations with specific details that crop up in my dreams several times a year, yet they are places I have never been to.

The first is a large city and I am walking down the street… there is a candy/magazine store on the corner, and I go in any buy something… then I go farther down the street to another building, and in the lower level is a small restaurant where I meet some friends and make the acquaintance of some girls… and later I think that I must go back to that place to see if the girls are there again.

The second is a smaller city – I get the distinct feeling of a “college town” – and I can see the specific view of a specific corner, how it looks, what’s there, how the street slopes down, etc.

These are not memories of places or events that have happened in this life, yet they recur in my dreams often. Are they memories of something important that happened in a past life?

Likewise, can nightmares be reflections of past life traumas that have clung to our spirits and haunt our sleep?

FEARS AND PHOBIAS

Where do your fears and phobias come from? Fear of such things as spiders, snakes, and heights seem to be built into the human psyche as part of our evolved survival instinct.

Many people suffer from phobias that are completely irrational, however. Fear of water, of birds, of numbers, of mirrors, of plants, of specific colors… the list goes on and on. People suffer from all kinds of bizarre phobias.

While several years on a psychologist’s couch might get to the root of those odd fears, those who believe in past lives wonder if they are carried over from a previous lifetime. Does a fear of water indicate a previous death by drowning? Could a fear of the color red suggest, for example, that a person was struck or killed by a red streetcar?

AFFINITY FOR FOREIGN CULTURE

You probably know a person who was born and raised in the United States but is an ardent anglophile – a person who is interested to the point of obsession with British culture. You might also know someone who can think of little else but getting dressed up and acting the part for the next Renaissance Fair or Civil War reenactment.

There are “philes” for virtually every culture on the planet, both modern and ancient, affecting people who seem to have no rationale for their obsessions. Why? Are they merely trying to find familiarity in a culture in which they lived 100 years ago? 1,000 years ago?

PASSIONS

Here is a related subject. It’s good to have things that we are passionate about, as long as they do not become obsessive and debilitating. But from where do passions arise for books, art, antiques, fashion, gardening, theatre, cars, trains, aircraft, the paranormal – or any number of other subjects?

Intense interest in a specific subject might be totally natural, of course, but might there be a past life connection in some cases?

UNCONTROLLED HABITS

The dark side of passions are those uncontrolled habits and obsessions that take over people’s lives and can even marginalize them in society. Obsessive-compulsives and hoarders fit into this category. A man who has to turn the light switch off and on ten times before he leaves a room; a woman who collects newspapers into six-foot-high stacks throughout her house because she cannot bear to get rid of them.

Each of us has at least one bad habit, from fingernail biting to gossiping to procrastination. The extreme forms include addictions to everything from television to Facebook to drugs. Again, psychological explanations can be found for these uncontrolled habits, yet those who believe in reincarnation say they might have roots in past lives.

INEXPLICABLE PAINS

Do you have aches and pains that the doctors cannot quite pinpoint or find a medical explanation for? You might be labeled a hypochondriac – a person who imagines his or her ailments. Or, as past life proponents suggest, those mysterious pains, sores, cramps, and more could be reflections of suffering you endured in a previous existence.

BIRTHMARKS

Birthmarks have been touted as evidence for reincarnation. In one fascinating case, an Indian boy claimed to remember the life of a man named Maha Ram, who was killed with a shotgun fired at close range. This boy had an array of birthmarks in the center of his chest that looked like they could possibly correspond to a shotgun blast. So the story was checked out. Indeed, there was a man named Maha Ram who was killed by a shotgun blast to the chest. An autopsy report recorded the man’s chest wounds – which corresponded directly with the boy’s birthmarks.

In a similar way, various other physical traits – even deformities – have been suggested as having their precedent in a person’s former life.