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jadelotusflower · 4 years ago

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July 2021 Roundup

Discussed this month: The Once and Future King, The Good People, The Secret of Kells/Wolfwalkers/Song of the Sea (aka "Irish Folklore" Trilogy), The Matrix Trilogy, the John Wick Trilogy, Space Jam: A New Legacy

Reading

The Once and Future King (T.H. White) - I've actually read this before, but it was a long time ago and I remembered very little of it so it seemed time for a revisit. Written between 1936 and 1942, this is a surprisingly meta retelling of Arthur and Camelot, very obviously and heavily influenced by WWII, with much academic pondering on the concept of humanity and war and ongoing conflict against Might=Right - looking to the past to try and understand the present. Some familiarity with the legends is assumed, White occasionally making reference to Malory, and there is a strange anachronistic feel - Merlin lives time backwards and talks of Hitler and other 20th Century references, White frequently refers to Old England and the way things were "back then", but also calls Arthur's country Gramarye, the narrative taking place an a kind of alternate history/mythology where Uther was the Norman conqueror of 1066, and yet reference is also made to the Plantagenet kings.

Comprising five volumes (the first four published separately at the time, and the final posthumously), it struck me on this read how each of the first four are structured around the childhood of a major player -Arthur (The Sword in the Stone), Gawain and his brothers (The Witch in the Wood), Lancelot (The Ill-Made Knight), and Mordred (The Candle in the Wind), and how their upbringing played a part in the inevitable tragedy of Camelot. In the final volume, The Book of Merlyn, it comes full circle as Arthur on the eve of his death is taken to revisit the animals of his childhood for much philosophising (at one point Merlyn argues at length with a badger about Karl Marx and communism.)

The Sword in the Stone is the most engaging, with young Arthur (known as "the Wart") and his tutelage under Merlin, being turned into various animals like an ant, a goose, and a hawk to learn about each of their societies (political allegories), and meeting with Robin Wood (Hood) and Maid Marian to battle Morgan le Fay, and the climactic pulling of the sword from the stone. This was of course the source material for the Disney film, although missing the wizards duel with Madam Mim (appearing in the original publication, but removed for the revised version).

The Ill-Made Knight is the longest volume and was honestly a slog to get through, because honestly Lancelot is pretty dull/terrible, and the Lancelot/Guenever love affair less than compelling. Ultimately it's Lancelot's hubris that dooms them - he is warned that Mordred intends to catch him out in Guenever's room, but he goes anyway, and doesn't leave when he tells her to, because he is stupid.

It’s no surprise that the female characters are given the short shrift, but there’s an uncomfortable vein of misogyny running through the book. To wit:

Elaine had done the ungraceful thing as usual. Guenever, in similar circumstances, would have been sure to grow pale and interesting - but Elaine had only grown plump.

And then later:

Guenever had overdressed for the occasion. She had put on makeup which she did not need, and put it on badly. She was forty-two.

Morgause (the eponymous witch in the wood/queen of air and darkness) is a negligent mother whose sole motivation is revenge, Elaine rapes Lancelot by deception, Guenever is hypocritical and shrill (but achieves a sliver of nuance in Candle), Nimueh is a nonentity, and Morgan le Fey is a monstrous fairy. If only White had turned his academic pondering inward and in order to examine the role of women in his worldview other than as damsels or instigators.

But Arthur also gets the short shrift - after all the focus in his childhood, he becomes almost a peripheral figure in the rest of the story until the very end, and we're not actually given much to show why he is the once and future king, other than that he tries to institute a slightly less brutal system.

Ultimately, White is more interested in philosophy than character, and so Camelot's inevitable tragedy feels more clinical than visceral.

The Good People (Hannah Kent) - If the Irish Folklore Trilogy (discussed below) is the beauty and wonder of Irish myths and legends interacting with the human world, this book is the cold danger of superstition and the devastating affect of folklore used as an explanation for life's ills. Set in 1820's rural Ireland, Nora is widowed and left with the care of her young disabled grandson Michael, believed to be a changeling. The local wise woman Nance, who feels the touch of "the good people" sets about to drive out the fairy from the child, believing that the "real" Michael will return, much to the growing dread of Mary, the teenage girl Nora has hired to care for him.

Here fairies are seen as a malevolent force, "sweeping" away women and children, causing bad harvests, and bringing death to the village - to be respected and feared. And then there's Nance, bartering traditional cures for ailments and troubles - some work, some do not, and some pose great danger. On the other hand, this is a remote village where a doctor must be fetched from Killarney, and only one priest who is less than charitable. Neither provide any help or support to Nora.

SPOILERS It's an upsetting read dealing with dark subject matter - grief trauma, child abuse and accidental infanticide, a kind of slow burn horror. If it takes a village to to raise a child, it also takes one to kill a child, as mounting fear and superstition moves through the population like a contagion, heightening Nora's desperation for the "return" of her grandson, and Nance's to prove her knowledge. It's an impeccably researched novel (based in part on a true event) but very unsettling - poor Michael is never really given humanity, and I feel this book would be hugely triggering in its depiction of disability and neurodivergence.

Watching

The Secret of Kells/Song of the Sea/Wolfwalkers (dir. Tom Moore) - I've been meaning to watch these films for absolutely ages, and I finally got to them this month. I’m pleased to say that the many people who recommended them to me were absolutely correct, because they appear to have been made to specifically cater to my interests. Some mild spoilers ahead.

I watched these in internal chronological order as suggested by @ravenya003, starting with The Secret of Kells, set in 9th Century Ireland where the young monk Brendan helps illuminate the to-be famous manuscript and befriends a forest sprite Aisling, under the threat of a Viking raid. Next was Wolfwalkers, jumping forward to 1650 Kilkenny where the English girl Robyn, daughter of a hunter, is drawn into the world of the forest and Mebh, who turns into a wolf when she sleeps. And finally we go all the way to 1980's in Song of the Sea for the story of Ben, who must help his younger sister Saoirse (a selkie) find her voice and bring back the faeries who have been turned to stone by the owl witch Macha.

Although the stories are completely separate, they've been described as Moore's "Irish Folklore" trilogy, and it’s easy to read a through line from Kells to Wolfwalkers in particular - both deal with fae of the forest, and Aisling appears as a white wolf at the end of the film (having lost her ability to appear in human form). I like to think that Aisling is in some way the progenitor of the wolfwalkers - after all, Kells and Kilkenny are less than 200 kms apart.

Song of the Sea is distant from the other two in both time and subject matter, dealing with selkies, creatures of the water. In many ways, Kells and Wolfwalkers feels like a duology, with Song more its own thing. On the other hand, an argument could be made for common fae spirit/s in different forms across all three films - Aisling is a white sprite, Robyn takes the form of a white/grey wolf, and Saoirse a white seal.

The strength of these films other than the folklore is the visual style - I really love 2D animation, and while I appreciate the beauty of cg animation, I often find in the latter’s focus on hyper-realism the artistry can be left by the wayside. These films not just aesthetically beautiful, but the art is used to tell the story - from the sharp angles that represent the darker or harmful elements (Crom, Vikings, the Town), to the circles and rings that represent safety and harmony (the Abbey, the forest, Mebh and her mother/the wolves healing circle, the holy well). The exception is probably the home of Macha, the owl witch, where circles are also prominent and represent magic, and this is often the case in folklore (fairy rings, fairy forts, etc).

Kells is the most stylised, resembling tapestries or pages and triptychs from medieval manuscripts, playing with perspective. I actually saw pages from the real Book of Kells years ago in Dublin, and remember them being very beautiful. We only get glimpses of the Book and the stunning Chi Rho page at the very end of the film, but the style of art is present throughout the film and particularly in the forest where Brendan finds inspiration for his illumination, and on the flipside his encounter in the dark with Crom Cruach, represented as a chalk-drawn primordial serpent.

This style is also present in Wolfwalkers, particularly stark in the way the birds-eye grid of the town often looms over Robyn in the background and in her work at the castle. The depiction of the forest has more of a storybook quality however, as does Song, where almost every frame resembles a painting, particularly the sequences of Saoirse's selkie trip through the sea and Ben's fall through the holy well.

Rav points out in her review that there is the ebbing away of myth and magic in each successive film, contrasted with the rise of Christianity/modernity. But there's circles and rings again, because while the ultimate power of the faerie world is fading away, the interaction between our human protagonists and faerie actually increases with each film. In Kells, we have only Aisling and Crom, in Wolkwalkers, we have Mebh and her mother whose ranks grow to include Robyn and her father, and finally in Song we have Saoirse, Bronagh, Macha, the Na Daoine Sídhe, and the Great Seanachaí.

Watching in the order I did, it does give the impression of the mythological world opening up to the viewer, gaining a deeper understanding and exposure as time progressed. On the other hand, that is also because the human world is gradually encroaching on the world of Faerie, from isolated settlements like the Abbey of Kells, to growing town of Kilkenny and the logging of the surrounding forest, to a modern Ireland of motorways and power lines, and industrialised Dublin where the remaining fairies have moved underground. It makes the climax of Song, with the fairies restored but returning to the land of Tír na nÓg, rather bittersweet.

I also credit the strength of the voice acting - the adult roles are minor but with greats including the dulcet tones of Brendan Gleeson and Sean Bean, and the ethereal Maria Doyle Kennedy (who I wish had gotten to do more). But the child roles are all performed so well, particularly Honor Kneafsey as Robyn, whose growing desperation and distress is just heartbreakingly palpable.

The Matrix Trilogy (dir. The Wachowskis) - I usually don't post rewatches in the Roundup, but I really, really love these movies. I will never forget seeing The Matrix at the cinema as a young teen, knowing nothing other than the tease of the enigmatic trailers, and just being completely blown away by it, and then becoming completely obsessed a few years later in the leadup to Reloaded.

It wasn’t my first fandom, but it was probably the first time I took fandom seriously. I was very invested in Neo/Trinity in particular as well as all the mythological/literary references that fed directly into my interests. I haven’t however gone back and read the fic I wrote, for fear that it is very, very cringe. I know where is is though, so maybe one day before the ff.net is purged.

This is Keanu Reeves at his most handsome, and while he doesn't have the greatest range (as many actors don't, although they don't get as much grief for it), when he's in the zone there's no one else who could do it better. He just has a Presence, you know? A vibe, and it compels me.

This is particularly present in Neo, a character whose conflict is almost entirely internal, burdened by the weight of his responsibility and destiny, both before and after he learns it is a false prophesy. He’s not your typical quippy macho action hero, but much like my other fave Luke Skywalker, is a character who is ultimately driven by love and self-sacrifice. I definitely have a Type of male hero I adore, and Neo fits right in there.

I also really love the sequels, flaws and all, because you know what, the Wachowskis had Ideas and they weren't going to deliver Matrix 2: Electric Boogaloo. Each film goes in an unexpected direction, and not in a subverted expectations ha ha silly rabbits way, but one that does have an internal logic and pulls together a cohesive trilogy as a whole, and how often does that happen these days?

The sequels are so…earnest, with none of the cynical cool detachment perhaps some would have preferred - at its core a trilogy exploring philosophy and the nature of prophesy vs choice, determinism vs free will, and the power of love. Maybe it can be hokey, and some of the dialogue a bit overwritten, but I don't care, there's so much I still enjoy even having seen the trilogy many times over the years.

Not to mention the great female characters - while I'm not sure any of the three strictly passes the Bechdel Test, we have Trinity and Niobe in particular who I love with all my heart. It does kind of annoy me that the Trinity Syndrome is so named, because it only applies in the most reductive reading possible, and Trinity expresses agency (and badassery) every step of the way, saving Neo just as much as he saves her. I mean..."dodge this"/"in five minutes I'll tear that whole goddamn building down"/"believe it"? Niobe piloting the Hammer through the mechanical line in Revolutions? Iconic. There are criticisms that can be made, sure, but the trilogy ultimately loves, respects, and appreciates its female characters (and important to note that the avatars of The System, the Architect and the Agents, are all white men).

Then we have the Oracle, who ultimately holds the most power and is the victor of the human/machine war. There's so much going on with the Oracle I could talk about it all day. It's that fate vs free will question again (“if you already know, how can I make a choice?”), but with the wrinkle of manipulation (“would you still have broken it if I hadn’t said anything?”). Choice is the foundation the Matrix is built on, the unconscious choice for humans to accept the system or reject it - the Architect can't control that, he can only manage it, and the Oracle can't force Neo onto the path she has set out for him, only predict the choices he will make based on her study of the human psyche ("did you always know?"/"No...but I believed"). But she plays with the concept of fate in a complicated web of prophesies for outcome she wants and trusting the nature of Morpheus, Trinity, and Neo to bring it about.

And then there's the visual storytelling - there is so much meaning in almost every frame and line of dialogue. The mirroring and ring cycles not only in the constant presence of reflective surfaces and central metaphor of the Matrix as a simulacrum, but the androgyny of Neo and Trinity, bringing each other back from the dead in successive films (and ultimately both ultimately dying in the third), Neo and Morpheus’ first and last meetings, Smith who is ultimately Neo’s dark mirror, the Oracle/the Architect, just to name a few. I just…really really love these movies? Maybe I’ll do a full post rewatch sometime.

I am however reserving judgement on the Matrix 4 - already there are a few things making me uneasy. Lana is the sole director for this one (Lilly is not involved), and Laurence Fishburne apparently wasn't even asked back, even though Morpheus actually survives the trilogy (as opposed to Neo and Trinity). But I’m interested, and don’t want to go in with any expectations, but rather ready to be surprised again like I was when I watched the first film (and hope I can stay away from spoilers).

John Wick Trilogy (dir. Chad Stahelski) - It was a trilogy kind of month! This genre is generally not my thing, as I don’t have a high tolerance for graphic violence and pure action bores me after a while, but I was in a Keanu kind of mood and I'm always hearing people go on about John Wick so I wanted to know what (if anything) I was missing. While still a bit too violent for my tastes, if nothing else I could appreciate the dance-like fight choreography, even if the worldbuulding is absolutely ridiculous - I mean, literally thousands of assassins across the world chilling in sanctuary hotels, supported by a vast network of weapon suppliers, tailors, surgeons, spy networks, etc? It’s silly, but hey, I was happy to go along with it.

What I do appreciate about Keanu Reeves, and this seems to be a common thread, is that even when in action hero mode (Matrix, Point Break, John Wick, and to a lesser extent Speed), he consistently plays a man who is completely in love with his partner/wife - like, completely, unapologetically devoted to them, and I think that is a big part of the appeal - it's that Keanu energy that is often the antithesis of toxic masculinity, even when in roles that would ordinarily rely on those tropes.

Wick is in many ways the spiritual successor to Neo - insular, taciturn, and even as he's dispatching death with clinical precision. Much like Neo, Wick is a character who is somehow Soft (tm) despite all the violence. I once listened to a podcast where they amusingly discussed the Reeves oeuvre as simulations of Neo still trapped in the Matrix, and it’s very easy to make the case here and imagine John Wick as Neo plugged back in after Revolutions, mourning Trinity and set on mission after mission to keep his mind active (and it would certainly explain why the guy hasn’t dropped dead after being stabbed, beaten up, strangled, hit by a car, shot, and falling off a building). It’s a fun little theory.

Stahelski was Reeves' stunt double and a stunt coordinator on The Matrix and there's plenty of homages in the visual style and reuniting Reeves with costars Laurence Fishburne and Randall Duk Kim (who played the Keymaker).

I did also find it amusing that Wick is also often referred to as babayaga (equated in the film to the bogeyman). Well, Wick is in many ways a witch who lives in the woods, just wanting to be left alone with his dog, and there is a supernatural energy to the character, so...I guess?

Space Jam: A New Legacy (dir. Malcolm D Lee) - I took my niece to see this at the cinema and it was…pretty much what you would expect. I thought it was fine for what it was, even if a bit slow in parts (it takes a looong time for the looneys to show up) and I wonder if they have the same cultural pull they had in the nineties (the age of Tweety Bird supremacy). But the kids seemed into it (my niece liked porky pig) and that's what counts I guess.

This time, the toon battle royale takes place on the WB servers, where evil A.I. Don Cheadle (having the time of his life chewing the cg scenery) wants to capture Lebron James for...reasons, idk. James and Bugs have to find the rest of the looneys scattered across the server-verse, a chance for WB to desperately remind people that they too, have media properties and a multiverse including DC comics world, Harry Potter world, Matrix world, Mad Max world, Casablanca world etc. Some of it feels very dated - there is I kid you not an Austin Powers reference, although it did make me smile that Trinity was on James’ list of most wanted players (skill: agility).

Unfortunately, nothing it really done with this multiverse concept except “hey, remember this movie? Now with looneys” six times, and the crowd for the game populated by WB denizens including the Iron Giant, Pennywise, the monkeys from the Wizard of Oz, Scooby Doo and the gang, etc. But still, it's fun, and hardly the tarnishing of a legacy or whatever nonsense is driving youtube clicks these days.

Writing

The Lady of the Lake - 2335 words.

Against the Dying of the Light - 2927 words, Chapter 13 posted.

Total: 5272 this month, 38,488 this year.

#roundup #reading watching writing #long post

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quoteablebooks · 5 years ago

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Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Young Adult, Fiction,

Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

Synopsis:

Looming war threatens all Feyre holds dear in the third volume of the #1 New York Times bestselling A Court of Thorns and Roses series. Feyre has returned to the Spring Court, determined to gather information on Tamlin's manoeuvrings and the invading king threatening to bring Prythian to its knees. But to do so she must play a deadly game of deceit – and one slip may spell doom not only for Feyre, but for her world as well. As war bears down upon them all, Feyre must decide who to trust amongst the dazzling and lethal High Lords – and hunt for allies in unexpected places. In this thrilling third book in the #1 New York Times bestselling series from Sarah J. Maas, the earth will be painted red as mighty armies grapple for power over the one thing that could destroy them all.

*Opinions*

**Spoilers**

A Court of Wings and Ruin is the end of the trilogy if you don’t count the add on novel that I am assuming is a bridge to the next series, and finally, war breaks over Prythian. The novel starts not too long after the events of A Court of Mist and Fury, with Feyre back in the Spring Court after the disastrous showdown with King Hybren. Feyre must navigate her way in a Court that is no longer her home and find a way to get back to the Night Court, her sisters, and her found family before Hybren starts his assault on Prythian. I have to say that the pacing in this novel was much better than in Mist and Fury with a number of moving pieces keeping the reader engaged. Yet, I found the ending slightly disappointing in terms of emotional payoff. Don’t get me wrong, I like a happy ending, but there was very little sacrifice to get that ending so it didn’t feel that it was earned. Now I have praised Maas before for letting Feyre make mistakes and have emotions as any individual would have. However, as the series progressed, I felt we saw less and less of this. It might have been deliberate, showing that this experience was maturing Feyre, but it got to the point where she does nothing wrong, and even when she does, it’s instantly forgiven because she is High Lady. Also, I know that this is a romance, but when 85% of Feyre’s thoughts are about Rhysand it was as if she wasn’t her own person anymore. There are no consequences to her actions that don’t somehow end up exactly how she wanted them to be, which became a little annoying. I didn’t have any fear of Feyre surviving or being hurt because things always worked out for her. Even with the Spring Court, the one time that Feyre’s choices came back to have some sort of negative effect, at the end of the day it doesn’t matter. Tamlin is still in love with her and ends up helping her against Hybren and Lucien, who is probably the worst treated by Feyre, goes with her to the Night Court due to Elian being his mate. I guess everything was just so neatly tied up that it didn’t seem realistic to me. Acts should have consequences more than “this could have gone so wrong but it didn’t, yay.” That being said, Tamlin is the definition of a messy bitch in this novel. While there is no condoning his treatment of Feyre, or Lucien, at the end of the day he is not a pure villain. Also, in defense of Lucien, I know a lot of people could point out that he let Tamlin treat Feyre badly and didn’t do enough to help her. I want to remind everyone that this is a man who was abused by his family and his best friend has control and rage issues which he doesn’t have powerful magic to counteract. Living like that for centuries will make anyone a little hesitant to step in when tempers are brewing. I understand Feyre’s anger, both for them aligning with Hybren to get her back like a possession and Lucien not helping her when she needed him the most, but Lucien very early on also acknowledges these mistakes. As Feyre manipulates him, I understand her reasoning, but I feel for Lucien as well. Maas pulls on those feelings from A Court of Thorns and Roses to make the reader both want Feyre to succeed in her machinations, but also find it a bit cruel what she is doing to Lucien. I would have liked for Lucien to decide to come with Feyre because of what Tamlin did and not just to see his mate, but I guess Feyre wouldn’t have believed him without the mating bond. After the time in the Spring Court, it’s as if Maas doesn’t know what to do with Lucien so she just sends him off on a quest and he’s gone for hundreds of pages. The addition of Faebane to the world was needed because, quite frankly, the fact that Feyre has the powers of every High Lord and wields them with efficiency was a bit hard for me to swallow. I know that we saw her train for months to master them, but she seemed to have no weakness, so while a lot can happen in a war, I didn’t really have any fear she would be harmed in one to one combat. The introduction of the faebane took away those powers and forced Feyre to think on her feet, use her physical abilities, and sometimes make deals to get out of sticky situations. While it was negated for the war itself, Feyre didn’t fight at all and Hybren had equally powerful magic so that didn’t bother me. However, all that training for Feyre to not enter a single battle during the actual war was a little ridiculous. All this power and she stood by and watched because she wasn’t trained to fight with the legion? I got the reasoning but why give her these amazing powers and have her not once use them in the final battle? Now, my biggest grievance with this novel is that Elian, and to some extent Nesta, are just walking plot devices. Elian is literally only mentioned in the narrative to push some other action forward, sending Lucien to look for Vessa, to warn them about the Ravens, and to force Azriel and Feyre to go and rescue her from Hybren so he goes after the humans. I learned nothing about her in this novel and honestly didn’t care about her in the slightest even though I enjoyed her character in the first two novels. When she faced her human betrothed I couldn’t have cared less because she wasn’t on the page enough for me to care and even that was just to show that Jurian was working against Hybren. While Nesta had more page time due to her connection to the Cauldron and therefore we had more emotional connection to her, she still didn’t seem like a character in this novel. I know that she is getting her own set of novels and I hope that they do her justice because I think she is one of the more interesting characters in the series when they actually let her be more than an ice-cold. Maas wanted to show that both sisters are traumatized by being turned, I get that, but you need to make us care about this trauma instead of just making both women useful for their skills and not talking aside from that. It was because of this disconnect that the real emotional moment for the sisters at the end of the novel really didn’t hit for me. My next grievance is that while they are in a war and a lot of people die, it isn’t any of the characters that the reader cares about. Sure, it is sad when the Cauldron blasts countless Illyrians out of the sky, but it wasn’t Cassian, thanks to Nesta, or Azriel. I am not saying that I wanted one of the inner circle to die, but literally all of the named characters make it through the war without any lasting physical effects. I guess that isn’t the truth, the Suriel, The Carver, and The Weaver do not survive, but again we really didn’t have an emotional connection to any of them save maybe the Suriel. Especially when Feyre realizes that The Carver came into the battle knowing he was going to die. Also, Feyre doesn’t lose anything in the battle other than her father, who she had been distant from for years. While his death was sad, Feyre really never planned to see him again so why should the reader be upset? Feyre doesn’t go mad looking into the mirror for The Carver and while I am all about learning to love the good and the bad in yourself, doing it in the span of hours is a little rushed. Feyre does not have to give up any of her powers to put the Cauldron back together, Rhysand doesn’t have any ill effects from dying to but the Cauldron back together, all the High Lords survive the war along with the named allies and mates. Even Amren’s big sacrifice was nulled as she came back as a High Fae. Again, I am a huge proponent of happy endings and maybe the emotional turmoil is shown in A Court of Frost and Starlight, but I still don’t really feel as if the happy ending was earned. I also don’t think that this series is Young Adult after A Court of Thorns and Roses, but New Adult. I have nothing against sex scenes in YA books because teenagers have sex, but the amount of sex in the last two books and how detailed the sex scenes were didn’t read like a Young Adult book. Feyre was nineteen at the beginning of all this (in hopes that we wouldn’t have an issue with a centuries-old Fae wanting to sleep with her, but that’s a different issue) and has had to take care of her family so one could say she is mature. That’s why the sex scene with Tamlin in the first novel didn’t bother me at all (though there are things to say about the Under the Mountain, again not now) because while it was detailed, it was a culmination of a novel's worth of relationship building. However, in A Court of Mist and Fury and A Court of Wings and Fury, the sex scenes are more prevalent and at points, all Feyre and Rhysand think about, like the library scene. I, personally, didn’t mind all that sexuality in this novel, but I don’t think having multiple sex scenes is the only way the novel could have been empowering for young girls and their sexuality. I don’t need to know that Feyre’s legs are still up on Rhysand’s shoulders to understand the deep and intimate bond they share, just saying. Again, in an adult novel, give me all those details, not needed in YA. Overall, I enjoyed the series, but I see why people have pointed out the problems with how romantic relationships have been portrayed. I am not sure if I will seek out A Court of Frost and Starlight or Nesta’s novels, which are apparently an adult series. Maas didn’t exceptional world-building so that Prythian was a living, breathing world. However, I don’t feel as if the emotional hits really worked in this final novel and the happy ending was just a little too perfect for my taste. Maybe I’m just a cynic at heart after all.

#A Court of Wings and Ruin #review #book review #3 out of 5 stars #sarah j. maas

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mrmichaelchadler · 6 years ago

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Rock and Roll Me: On Andrea Riseborough's Spellbinding 2018 Performances

In a time of cultural noise, in which the loudest and most outspoken receive the most attention, Andrea Riseborough succeeds through nuance and restraint. Her spellbinding 2018 performances are the sublimest spectacles.

Because Riseborough speaks little in 2018 films like "The Death of Stalin," "Mandy" and "Nancy," character detail and directorial form become essential to the viewing experience, and how one interprets the performances. What would Robert De Niro’s Johnny Boy be without Martin Scorsese’s Caravaggian lighting and framing in 1973's "Mean Streets"? And how would Sissy Spacek’s "Carrie" performance hold up without Brian De Palma’s blood red production aesthetic? Riseborough, a 37-year-old English actress, elevates films by harmonizing with the director’s mise-en-scène, and by keeping the audience engaged.

For Armando Iannucci’s political satire "The Death of Stalin," Riseborough represents the grounding force; the mediator of ridiculous men. As Svetlana Stalina, she delivers a Charlie Chaplin-esque performance, speaking with her hands and reacting to contrived male machismo with calculated non-verbals. Alongside loud male performers like Steve Buscemi, Jason Isaacs, and Michael Palin, Riseborough punctuates dialogue with her slanted grins, numerous face palms and rhythmic movements within each comedic scenario.

Riseborough essentially functions as a frustrated middle child in "The Death of Stalin," a literal sister to the stooge Vasily (Rupert Friend) and a sister-in-spirit to the titular dictator’s proud comrades. In that sense, Iannucci often stages Riseborough in the background (understanding that she’ll deliver something), or to the side as comedic scenes play out for reactionary moments, many of which may not be noticeable until a second viewing. To complement the rapid-fire dialogue, Riseborough uses consistent body motion, primarily with her hands. She exerts nervous energy by repetitively pointing at people, and she then transfers that energy inward via repetitive face palms. Riseborough consistently inhales and exhales, delivering a definitely loud performance, albeit in a different manner than the male leads.

During each moment of situational comedy, Riseborough repeats the same physical routine; a set-up for the inevitable one-liner. And while she’s afforded some clever dialogue, it’s the rhythmic, non-verbal crescendos that underline Svetlana’s internal conflict. On one level, Riseborough’s nervous mannerisms—pointing, inhaling, exhaling, smiling—boost the situational comedy, but these collective moments ultimately set up one giant exhale for her character in the end, as she drops the lyrical routine entirely, in order to communicate Svetlana’s humanity and the danger that could possibly fall upon her. (Svetlana Stalina moved to the United States and passed away in Wisconsin at the age of 85.)

In Panos Cosmatos’ "Mandy," Riseborough relies on performative restraint in favor of the narrative structure and her character’s arc. On the surface, Mandy Bloom looks like one of the doomed female characters from the "Friday the 13th" franchise. And it’s no accident that she identifies her home as Crystal Lake. In terms of character, Mandy wears a Mötley Crüe t-shirt and discusses the cosmos with her lumberjack boyfriend Red, portrayed by Nicolas Cage —perhaps THE quintessential loud performer. But what’s special about this dynamic, for both the characters and performers, is that Cage matches Riseborough’s method during Mandy’s first half. Red clearly adores Mandy, and vice versa. Incidentally, character detail, chemistry and performative nuance mesh together to create a magical sense of camaraderie, along with looming danger.

To execute her performance as the ill-fated Mandy, Riseborough mutes the physical noise, a la Svetlana Stalina’s swirling hands and finger-pointing, to accentuate her natural features. Riseborough’s presence is fundamental to Mandy’s charm, most notably her large eyes and peering gaze. In an early sequence, Cosmatos presents a close-up of Mandy emerging from a lake, a shot that simultaneously establishes the character’s psychological effect on Red while informing the audience about a dark wave of energy. In a subsequent sequence, Riseborough breaks the fourth wall — a wink of the eye to the viewer — while telling Red a cryptic story about dead starlings, much like how she briefly breaks the fourth wall during one of "The Death of Stalin"’s liveliest sequences. In that film, her eye contact with the camera feels like an easter egg. In "Mandy," however, her direct gaze creates a more potent connection; a blurring of the line between character and performer. When fate catches up with Mandy, all of Riseborough’s small character tweaks come into play, as it’s not hard to see her face in the fire. It all adds up, it all comes together.

Riseborough often gets left out of "Mandy" discussions because her performance is so quiet and subdued. (I listened to a couple Blumhouse podcasts and the hosts barely acknowledge her role.) She speaks like a chilled-out Siri and glides like an angel on earth. Essentially, Riseborough pulls back the singular string on her bow during the majority of Mandy, and then shoots a sharpened arrow for one perfect shot, one defining moment. And that moment comes midway through when Mandy accepts her fate and unleashes a primal scream, thus destroying the flimsy ego of Linus Roache’s cult figure Jeremiah Sand. For Cosmatos, Riseborough must depart from the Mandy narrative in order for Cage to flip the switch, and her final seconds ensure that audiences won’t soon forget that laugh, those eyes, and the internalized pain that suddenly explodes into the cinematic universe—a giant FU to all the painfully un-self-aware men (and women) that Sand represents.

Riseborough provides one of cinema’s most rockstar 2018 moments in "Mandy," and she utilizes her full skill set to carry one of the year’s most underrated independent films, Christina Choe’s "Nancy"—a challenging and poignant character study about a female outcast who believes she might’ve been kidnapped as a child.

Like Mandy Bloom, Nancy Freeman speaks softly but radiates with energy. In this performance, Riseborough carries herself more like Wayne World’s Garth Algar than a care-free flower child. She balances nervous energy with overt smugness, suggesting that Nancy could either be a pathological liar or maybe just a woman struggling with depression. This time, Riseborough focuses on her character’s eyes and lips; when Nancy clearly deceives people early on, her eyes dart back and forth while her lips curl from side to side — not a quiver, per se, but rather a nervous character tick to suggest unease. Riseborough also slows down the narrative pace in "Nancy," as her character’s interpersonal experiences lead to highly awkward moments, much like the person who makes a perfectly normal statement in conversation but waits for a reaction. Based on Riseborough’s character interpretation, however, Nancy seems to be a self-aware individual.

Because Nancy comes across as a quiet outcast, Riseborough’s subtle character quirks have a jolting effect as the drama escalates. She adopts a regional, Fargo-like accent, all the while speaking from her throat and raising her shoulders during moments of tension. In some of Nancy’s early scenes, Riseborough’s body language suggests her character is confident in selling deception, even if her facial expressions betray her posture as a whole. In this role, Riseborough’s performance allows for various interpretations, as Nancy doesn’t have the public profile of Svetlana Stalina, nor does she have a a strong romantic connection like Mandy Bloom. Nancy must survive on her own, even if her potential birth mother and father are willing to lend a helping hand by offering love and a new life. In "The Death of Stalin," Svetlana Stalina wears her heart on her sleeve no matter what, and Mandy Bloom speaks the truth in all situations. Nancy, however, could be a distant cousin of Ryan Gosling’s "Drive" charactertough to read, ready to travel ... ready to run if need be. With Riseborough, one can never be sure which road she’ll take. As a result, the performative nuance and restraint makes her biggest moments so impactful.

In the future, Andrea Riseborough may evolve into one of cinema’s most iconic performers, one associated with high-profile mainstream roles and big Academy Award moments; she has that type of potential. For now, though, Riseborough remains one of the film industry’s most under-the-radar actresses, as she’s been in the game for over a decade but continues to rapidly evolve and challenge herself. If you’ve seen "Mandy," "Nancy," or "The Death of Stalin," you’re likely a Riseborough fan already. Or at least you should be.

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