Burtonphobia-Hollywood's History with Racism

*Sigh* If only some people would learn to keep their mouths shut...

I’ll start with a confession: I’m divided on Tim Burton as a director. He’s definitely talented, but even before it was cool to criticize him his filmography was hit-or-miss. Some of it, like Ed Wood and Corpse Bride, I genuinely enjoy, even considering rather brilliant. Other films, like Dark Shadows, are atrocious and make me wonder if he’s really that great. And then there are middling movies, like Burton’s take on Batman and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, which aren’t “good”, but are worth the watch for how weird they are. (And yes, I don’t consider Burton’s Batman movies to be good.)

Weird as Burton’s movies are, the controversies surrounding them are even more so. Take recently, where he was interviewed by Rachel Simon of the website Bustle to promote his most-recent film, the adaptation of the 2011 novel Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children. The movie’s about a boy named Jake who finds a Harry Potter-esque school for kids with interesting, um…”peculiarities”. I don’t know what happens, having not seen it yet, but the trailer hits all the points on Burton’s checklist, right down to the almost exclusively-white cast. Since this is 2016, and being more inclusive actually matters, Simon decided to question Burton on this. To say the response was bizarre and insensitive is like saying that water is wet:

“‘Nowadays, people are talking about it more,’ he says regarding film diversity. But ‘things either call for things, or they don’t. I remember back when I was a child watching The Brady Bunch and they started to get all politically correct. Like, OK, let’s have an Asian child and a black. I used to get more offended by that than just... I grew up watching blaxploitation movies, right? And I said, that’s great. I didn’t go like, OK, there should be more white people in these movies.’”

Yeah, um…that was something that was said? *Scratches forehead*

As expected, the internet, rightfully, didn’t like this response. However, there are two elephants in the room that need addressing in response. The first is the sudden “realization” that Tim Burton is “a hack”. He’s not. Burton has always been all-over qualitatively, even when it was cool to like him. People point to his early work as untouchable, saying that he’s “stopped caring” now that he’s famous, when he had a Batman and a Mars Attacks for every Edward Scissorhands and Ed Wood in his prime. The man hasn’t “lost it”, especially considering that he made Frankenweenie four years ago, he’s simply being his usual, inconsistent self.

And second, Tim Burton’s right on some level about not having diversity for the sake of it. Because that’s not really diverse, that’s tokenism. Diversity is when you cast actors and actresses to play non-traditional roles, yet still flesh them out enough that they feel relatable in some way. In contrast, tokenism is doing it for the sole sake of checkmarks in the diversity box. The former is sensible, the latter insensible. And yet, because the difference is subtle, it’s easy to conflate the two and miss the damage of tokenism.

I’ll use my most-popular blog as a base example: remember when I complained that Korrasami from Avatar: The Legend of Korra was a terrible ship? It’s because the relationship felt tacked on. Gay relationships are desperately needed in fiction, but there wasn’t any build-up, no earlier hints and no reason for it other than to appease the LGBTQ community. It was also a last-minute fan-ship that added nothing to either the story, or Korra/Asami’s characters. In short, it was a token relationship, and you can easily replace one of them with a man with little change.

So yeah, I understand where Burton is coming from. The problem is in how he said what he said and the implications of his statement. Ignoring that he’s the wrong person to comment on diversity, especially since his films are white bread-centric in spite of their eccentricities, Burton’s remarks on PC culture and not including diverse characters because it’s not appropriate are incredibly insensitive. Because there are plenty of talented actors and actresses of colour who are looking for work, and they’re always welcome additions. By constantly turning a blind eye in favour of white actors and actresses, you’re actually being racist.

But Burton’s comment about being politically correct is doubly worrying, as it looks bad on him as a person. You’d think that a man who’s spent his entire film career, particularly his early years, as “that weird dude who directs weird movies for weird people” would have a little more sympathy for marginalized groups. You’d think a man who was fired from Disney in the 80’s for thinking outside the box would think outside the box about race and representation. Yet, as this interview demonstrates, Burton is as racist as they come.

However, I think this stems from a bigger problem in Hollywood: bigotry. We’ve seen it with the “Oscars so White” controversy at last year’s Academy Awards, but it doesn’t begin or end there. Hollywood’s so openly bigoted that their decision to cast Scarlett Johansson as Major Motoko Kusanagi in the adaptation of Ghost in the Shell, a character who happens to be Japanese, caused huge backlash on the internet when it was announced. Hollywood’s also so bigoted that they cast Tilda Swinton, a white actress, to play a Tibetan monk in this year’s Doctor Strange to appeal to Marvel’s Chinese audience. Racism in Hollywood doesn’t stop at the “master of gothic filmmaking”, basically.

Though it doesn’t excuse Burton’s remarks either. I’ll be the first to acknowledge that talented artists can be awful people (look at Clint Eastwood), but that doesn’t mean I’ll sit back and let their behaviour slide. Because that’s not justice, that’s privilege. More specifically, that’s white privilege. That so much racist behaviour goes unchecked is actually pretty sad, especially since people of colour deserve respect. If we let Burton’s remarks slide, especially under the guise of “freedom of speech”, then we’re letting decades of the racist status quo go by unchecked. And that’s wrong.

So yes, Tim Burton was out-of-line. And while it doesn’t make him a hack, it reflects rather poorly.

Every Frame a Rebuttal: Defending the MCU

A while back I wrote a rant defending the MCU. It wasn’t anything special, but my underlying concern remains true: I don’t think the MCU gets enough credit. Oh, it gets its share of analysis and praise, there’s no denying that! Yet when it comes down to the deeper introspection, all I see is article after video after podcast pointing out how simplistic it is.

Take this video, the latest (as of writing this) from one of my favourite YouTube content creators, Tony Zhou:

Huh…okay then! (Video courtesy of Every Frame a Painting).

Now, I love Tony Zhou’s work. The world of film is confusing and complicated to piece together, and Tony’s work always brightens my day because of how well he simplifies it. So when he announced that his newest episode would be 13 minutes long on his Twitter page, I was excited. I figured this’d be his magnum opus, his video to top all videos. Sadly, while I ended up appreciating the end-result, I was severely let-down because it, essentially, boiled down to yet another deconstruction of what the MCU lacks.

I’ve been meaning to write this piece ever since my last on the MCU, but what finally got me to do it was this video. However, it isn’t specifically about Tony’s dissertation, even though he’s ragged on the MCU on several occasions, but rather the growing subset that always feels a need to criticize the franchise for being too workmanlike. I’ve heard it on Twitter, in videos and on blog sites many times, so while Tony might’ve made me crack, this was a rant long in the works.

For those unaware, the MCU is a superhero franchise that started in 2008 with Iron Man. Since then, it’s spanned almost 14 films and several one-shots, a few comics and a handful of television shows on TV and Netflix. Like Tony said, the franchise is currently the highest-grossing in film, with several entries cracking the $1 billion mark at the box-office. And not a single entry is below the threshold of “Fresh” on Rotten Tomatoes.

So yeah, the MCU’s a big deal, leading to both praise and backlash. It’s also created a rift between serious film buffs, with many loving it and others being overly-critical of it. I used to be in the latter category, simply because the films weren’t grabbing me initially. But I’ve come to respect it in time and love it for what it is. I don’t think it’s the greatest franchise ever-the only film entry I’d give the title of “great” to is Iron Man-but that doesn’t mean I won’t occasionally watch an entry and enjoy it for what it is.

I think part of what bothers me is how a lot of the criticism comes off as unfairly critical. It picks apart what “doesn’t work”, missing, in my opinion, what does. And besides, it’s art. Whether or not you like art, it’s not objectively awful. There’ll always be aspects of anything artistic that’ll appeal to someone, so when you blanket your statements, you end up arrogant or condescending…even if they have merit.

Let’s look at what Tony frequently criticizes to get a better picture: in his video essay on Akira Kurosawa, Tony points out that the biggest problem with The Avengers is that it contains camera movement where it isn’t necessary. He mentions the scene where Nick Fury explains why SHIELD lied about its motivations for forming The Avengers to Iron Man and Captain America respectively. The three of them gather at a round table, while the camera swerves around them to imply scope. Except, according to Tony, the camera didn’t need to swerve. Camera movement only carries weight when it’s backed by appropriate character movement (or lack thereof), and this particular scene lacks that because it feels empty.

That’s a fair point, and one I’d never thought of prior to watching his video, but it misses the greater intent of the scene. I could easily counter the claim by stating that the swerve symbolizes the missing Avengers. The group is a team of six, and yet four of them are out of commission: The Hulk had recently fallen to Earth after a moment of rage-induced violence, while Thor had landed in a field from a cage originally meant for Loki. Meanwhile, Hawkeye was recovering from his brainwashing, with Black Widow keeping him company. The camera swerve, I’d argue, is meant to show disunity and fracture, a complete 180-degrees from the swerve in the third-act when the team’s reunited against the Chitauri.

Important character details also occur in it. When Nick Fury explains his motivations, they have different looks. Iron Man is uncomfortable, while Captain America is confused. When Fury tosses the blood-stained cards from Phil Coulson’s pocket onto the table, Iron Man leaves, while Captain America remains. That difference in the reactions of our two heroes speaks volumes about them: Iron Man understands the weight of the situation even without the cards, while Captain America needs the push to remind him of what’s at stake. This scene is rich in depth, something Tony’s complaint glosses over.

Next up, Tony’s video on Jackie Chan and fight choreography in film. Here, Tony brings up how Hollywood action films use cheap editing to distract from the inexperience of the actors and actresses and their inability to do hand-to-hand combat/actual stunts. He uses a scene from Guardians of the Galaxy to prove his point, when, really, he could’ve picked any Hollywood blockbuster.

This one’s tougher to deconstruct because it’s a problem of time and stunt doubles. It’s a problem of time because films don’t have the resources or deadlines in the West to accommodate fluid action. Even those that do still use cheats to make the fights look more stylized (see Scott Pilgrim VS the World.) And it’s a problem of stunt doubles because the editor needs a way to make them look invisible. Though it’s not like there aren’t actual stunts being done by the actors and actresses themselves, because there are.

I think Tony’s own video dispels his argument because of what Jackie Chan himself says. It’s a known fact in film circles that he does his own stunts in his Eastern action movies, partly because he’s given a lot of creative control. In the West, however, that flexibility isn’t available, hence the cuts and lack of cohesive action. But that’s not an indication that the movies themselves are bad, because a film with poor fight choreography can compensate with strong acting and writing (like with Batman Begins, which had atrocious fight choreography, yet excelled everywhere else.)

And honestly, Tony could’ve picked any action movie. He didn’t have to single out an MCU film, as, save animation, this is an epidemic all-across the board. So why not pick on a movie with bad writing and acting too? Why not criticize the dozens of paint-by-numbers action films that come out every year made for a quick buck or two? That Tony directs his attention to the MCU is, again, another example of why I think he’s being unfairly critical.

Then there’s the video that Tony did on editing. In it, he discusses how an editor’s biggest challenge is to know when to cut for the sake of emotional investment. He zooms in on action films in Hollywood, and uses scenes from two movies over the last 40 or so years to highlight the decline in quality editing. The first is when Luke tries lifting his X-Wing from the swamp on Dagobah in Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back and fails. The cuts are long, slow and dragged out, only picking up once Luke gives up. I’ll admit it’s an effective use of editing, no arguments there.

But then Tony brings up Scott trying to control ants for his first time in Ant-Man, and how quick and “unimpressive” the editing is. The scene’s editing can be rationalized as Scott not only not believing in himself, but not caring to try. He’s stuck in a foreign house against his will and is being asked to control ants with his mind. Anybody with a healthy level of skepticism would be instantly turned off by that, even pretending to try to prove that it’s impossible. Sure, Hank’s encouragement might’ve been unneeded, but the editing was perfectly fine.

You see what I’m getting at? The problem isn’t that Tony’s critiques ring false, because they’re reasonable given his topics. And it’s not like the MCU isn’t guilty of flaws, because I can think of a dozen problems that Tony hasn’t covered. But his complaints ring hollow because they’re frequently directed at the MCU, and not even in the appropriate places.The movies aren’t trying to be what Tony wants them to be, that’s not their intent.

All this boils down to is a case of a video maker criticizing something that’s “critic-proof”. The MCU is flawed, but not for the reasons Tony is pointing out. Yet I hear similar complaints all the time, which reminds me of the scene from Ratatouille where Anton Ego’s overly-critical disposition is quelled by…a ratatouille dish. That’s right, the simplest of dishes silences Ego. It doesn’t matter that it’s a “peasant’s dish”, it still did the trick.

On some level, I’m waiting for the MCU-equivalent of that to silence these critics and make them realize that their critiques aren’t as weighty as they think. Especially since, and this might be a cop-out, these films weren’t made with them in mind. They’re for the average Joe and those who've been fed up with the past mistreatment of Marvel properties. Could they be better-produced? Sure, but they could also be worse-produced. Until that understanding’s reached, I’ll forever roll my eyes at any and all “critiques” made against them.

So yes, Tony, you’re being unfair toward the MCU. I still love your videos, but you’re being unfair.

In Defence of Avatar...

I’ve been mixed on writing this for some time. I’ve wanted to on many occasions for 7 years, namely in response to the endlessly tiresome rants keep circulating every time it pops up on the internet, but interest kept dying down shortly after. I know what I want to say, but something has compulsively kept holding me back. Still, it’s refused to leave me in peace, so I have no other choice. Today, I write a long-overdue defence of Avatar.

Before I begin, I’ll point out that I won’t blindly sing this movie’s praises. Ignoring that I'll have only seen the film three times, the most-recent in preparation for this article, I don’t think Avatar’s a masterpiece. I’ve never did, even as I left the theatre in 2009 with a migraine from the then-new 3D goggles not fitting on my face. The movie, while enjoyable, is riddled with weird writing and directorial choices, and I understand if it doesn’t resonate with you. My goal is simply to provide a defence for its existence, why it’s not as “cancerous” as many have made it out to be, and why a lot of its criticism is obnoxious and cliché. I won’t be tackling the “it’s overrated” argument, simply because the use of that word has become overrated itself, but I’ll deconstruct 7 of the most-aggravating complaints that pop-up whenever it’s mentioned.

*Breathes deeply* Well, here goes nothing!

1. “The story is lame and unoriginal!”

Beginning the complaints is a direct attack on the film itself. Avatar has been frequently labelled a “lame knock-off” of three films: Pocahontas, Ferngully: The Last Rainforest and Dances with Wolves. The comparisons get brought up so often that it’s become obnoxious. I was even reminded of the comparison during one Shabbat lunch at a family friend’s house. My older brother made the comparison, and while I normally get along wonderfully with him, at that moment I felt like strangling him.

I probably should’ve re-watched-or watched, in the case of Dances with Wolves-these films in preparation for this as well, but I didn’t because I have neither the time or patience. Besides, my memories of Pocahontas and Ferngully: The Last Rainforest aren’t pleasant. One is a white-washing of history, the other an acid-trip with no depth beyond the initial high. And both are incredibly disjointed, with one of them glossing over the subtext of colonialism in favour of an uninteresting romance between a white guy and a Native American. I can’t comment on Dances with Wolves, but judging by its reactions I doubt it’s an improvement.

I think Avatar has the upper-hand here anyway. It has a romance going on, but it’s not the focus. The movie’s really about colonialism. It’s a movie where a guy sneaks into the home of an alien race to help humanity obtain a rare mineral. When the guy becomes overly-attached, humanity decides to use force and torch everything to the ground. Considering what European settlers often did historically, you can’t say it isn’t on-the-nose. That’s not to say there aren’t problems with certain parts of the narrative, but the whole more than compensates.

Then there’s the camp that compares the film to Princess Mononoke. Having seen Princess Mononoke 7 times, I can assure you that the two couldn’t be any more different. One’s about animal gods battling with civilization for dominance, the other’s a colonial fairytale where, in a surprise twist, the colonists lose. Like the aforementioned movies, there’s a whole shade of difference in execution.

It’s important to stress that “originality” in storytelling is overrated. No stories are “original”, there’s always gonna be overlap. This is especially true for film, where narratives have already been done so many times. Inside Out, for example, is every “inside your head” story that people can easily-wait, they already have called it unoriginal. Basically, originality isn’t what’s important, but rather execution, and Avatar’s pretty-decently executed.

As for the “it’s lame” argument, that’s more about being “hollow”, and it’s nowhere near as hollow as Mad Max: Fury Road. If you think that’s an unfair comparison, remember that both films have been praised for being experiences you need to see once. The only difference is that Avatar gets criticized for being vapid, when it’s about something, while Mad Max: Fury Road gets praised for being meaningful, when it’s incredibly empty. (And no, I’m not apologizing for calling Mad Max: Fury Road empty.)

Ultimately, it’s a hollow argument propagated by people who want to shield themselves from the film’s legit problems. Because Avatar doesn’t exist in a bubble, and it’s not perfect. It has its share of problems too. But when all that comes up is something that, to paraphrase Bob Chipman, sounds like it was ripped from South Park? Well, it’s enough to raise an eyebrow when analyzing critically.

2. “The message is overly-preachy and lacks subtlety!”

The word you’re looking for is “nuance”.

This one’s unavoidable given that Avatar’s an environmentalism film disguised as a Blockbuster drama. Movies that deal with the environment, much like movies that deal with war, in any meaningful way have to take a stance. And yes, it’s going to be preachy. Much like how Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind preached about humanity’s destructive treatment of the Earth, or how WALL-E preached about how humanity’s laziness is its biggest obstacle, or even how Princess Mononoke preached about how humans and nature need to co-exist, Avatar preaches about how human interference in nature hurts other living creatures when motivated by selfishness. To say the former three were “subtle” isn’t true, as they weren’t. But they were definitely more “nuanced”.

Like originality, subtlety is overrated. Good storytelling might have subtlety in it, but most of the strength of a narrative is complexity. A good war movie isn’t subtle about war, it’s nuanced about it. A good religious movie isn’t subtle about religion, it’s nuanced about it. Conversely, a good environmentalist movie isn’t subtle about environmentalism, it’s nuanced about it. Nuance, not subtlety, carries a good film.

But if I were to play Devil’s Advocate for a bit here, I have to question if the reasoning behind this argument is an aversion to the film’s subtext. Remember how I said this was a colonialist movie that also deals with the environment? Both are sore spots for many people. Colonialism was destructive, it’s not something you can glamourize. The Western world is still living with the consequences of that, and to varying degrees. Some have accepted it, others haven’t.

So here comes a film that actually shows colonialism for what it was, and what do people do? They call it preachy and unsubtle. I know it’s more complicated in actuality, but that sounds dishonest. The film’s not “realistic”, especially since the Natives actually win, but it’s a movie, so you suspend your disbelief for the sake of the experience.

It’s also important to remember that preserving the environment matters, especially considering recent, global developments. Avatar’s quite long, and we’ll cover that eventually, but the first hour or so sets up what’s at stake. It’s not like most pro-environment movies, where they touch on the tree hugging theme in a forced way, Avatar makes a concerted effort to feel natural. In some ways it’s even, dare I say, subtle.

The only time it gets too shallow is when it moves to the colonialists. Which, like I said, fits the movie’s theme, but often makes the humans come off as cartoons. Even Quaritch, who’s supposed to be 2-dimensional, feels a little too cartoony, especially with his dialogue (more on that later). I know I’m back-peddling a little bit, but I’d have liked more depth and nuance on the human side, as opposed to a throwaway line that explains what they’re doing on Pandora in the first place. But then we’d have missed the emotion of watching the Omaticaya’s home fall to the ground, and-gah, I’m in a no-win situation!

Essentially, Avatar does what it does well-enough. Could it have been better? Absolutely. But that doesn’t negate what it’s done, and I think that’s more important than subtlety.

3. “The characters aren’t interesting!”

This one I’ve encountered in a variety of forms, so I’ll tackle it in an amalgamated manner:

“The characters aren’t interesting.”

I beg to differ. I quite liked them.

“Really? What’s the main character’s name?”

Jake Sully, aka Jaksulli. The latter is how he’s referred by the Omaticaya.

“What’s his back-story?”

He’s an ex-marine who was paralyzed in Venezuela. His twin brother was a PhD in astrophysics who was shot and killed by some no-name punk. Jake was chosen to take his place because his DNA was similar enough to make his avatar function. Oh, and he keeps a video diary, both to study the Omaticaya and give insight to the colonialists in their hunt for unobtanium.

“Name one side character.”

I’ll do better, I’ll name four: Trudy, Grace, Neytiri and Quaritch.

“Okay, what are their professions?”

Trudy is a pilot who works under Quaritch. Grace is a scientist/linguist. Neytiri is from the tribe that Jake infiltrates. And Quaritch is the general with slashes on his face.

“Can you remember anything that happens to any of them?”

Yes. Jake becomes one of the Omaticaya. Grace dies from a bullet wound. Neytiri becomes Jake’s lover. And Quaritch kicks the bucket in a fight with Neytiri and Jake. Trudy also dies a heroic death, although the motivations for her character are a bit hazy.

“Can you remember anything that happens in-film?”

This isn’t character-related, but yes: I remember the first encounter with Neytiri. I remember Jake stopping a bulldozer with rocks. I remember Jake’s first flight. I remember that giant tree falling down, and how sad that made me. I remember Grace getting shot. I remember the final battle. Do you want me to continue?

“Can you quote any of the lines?”

Sure: “Where’s my goddamn cigarette? What’s wrong with this picture?” “You are like a baby!” “‘How will I know if it chooses me?’ ‘It will try to kill you.’ ‘Outstanding!’” “Eywa has heard you, Jake!”

That’s off the top of my head.

“The dialogue sucks, you’ve proven that.”

Welcome to a James Cameron film.

“What does that mean?”

The dialogue was always lame in his films.

“That’s not true!”

Really? Explain how I’m supposed to take lines like “Fuck you, asshole!” and “Get away from her, you BITCH!” seriously.

“They’re classics!”

And they make me laugh whenever I hear them. James Cameron dialogue was always silly, he’s simply gotten better at hiding that over time.

“You’re not a James Cameron fan, are you?”

Not really. I’ve seen all of his films except for Piranha II: The Spawning, The Abyss and True Lies. They’re all pretty hard to take seriously. Even Titanic, which is probably his best-acted pre-Avatar. Give me Steven Spielberg any day.

“You’re a heretic.”

And you’re running out of arguments.

You see? People claim that nothing about the movie is memorable, I prove them wrong. They keep prodding, I prove them wrong. They eventually call me a heretic, which is code for “I’m full of it, but don’t want to admit it.” And I’m supposed to sit back and take it, because I like Avatar.

Truthfully, there’s a lot of the movie’s world and characterization that intrigues me. Pandora looks beautiful, even almost 7 years later. The motion-capture from WETA holds up as well as the CGI in Jurassic Park. The designs of the creatures are inspired and look like something from an alien world. I love the concept of The Hallelujah Mountains, even if they don’t make sense scientifically. And, of course, the language of the Navi sounds like one that’d actually exist, being created by a real linguist.

But sure, there’s nothing in Avatar that’s “memorable”!

4. “The movie’s way too long!”

One of the lesser used arguments, it’s also one of the more troubling. There’s a small group of detractors who rip apart the film for being too long and slow, and while they’re not a loud group, that doesn’t mean they don’t get under my skin. Avatar’s run-time comes to roughly 162-minutes. That’s roughly the same length as The Dark Knight Rises and Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice, and slightly shorter than Interstellar and all three Lord of the Rings films. It’s long, in other words.

But is it “too long”? Not necessarily. For one, Pandora is a vast world. The movie came with three discs when I bought it, and the first disc (which contains half of the movie) is set-up. Necessary set-up, but still set-up. You need that first hour and a quarter to establish the characters and stakes. You need it to develop the relationship between Jake and the Omaticaya. It’s also one of the best-paced hours I’ve seen in a movie epic.

The second half is the pay-off, where all of the big moments take place. It’s where the huge war occurs, where the underlying message is made. Like that first 75 minutes, the remaining 87 minutes are necessary. Perhaps not as well-paced as the first 75, but necessary. And they’re not wasted either.

I think people were expecting something akin to to Cameron’s earlier work, and they got another Titanic instead. Which, to its credit, arguably works better here, seeing as Avatar isn’t based on a historical tragedy. Still, that dramatic build-up might’ve been too “seen it before” to really captivate. But I like it. In an age where so many action films, particularly long ones, drag themselves out with pointless fluff, to have an epic that dedicates time to characters is refreshing.

Besides, I’d much rather this than, say, another Michael Bay-made Transformers film. I’d much rather it than all three of The Hobbit films. So what if parts of it feel a little long? That’s symptomatic of most epics. So what if parts of the climax feel dragged out? Would you like me to gripe about how Boromir’s death in the first Lord of the Rings movie went on forever, or how the second film had a battle that dragged on forever, or how the third movie had multiple-actually, I liked the multiple endings. Basically, Avatar being long is a symptom of a bigger problem in Hollywood, not in of itself.

5. “The movie’s one of the worst films ever made!”

This was big in 2009-2010, back when Avatar was still new, but it’s fallen to the wayside over time in favour of apathy and indifference. Believe it or not, there was a time when people were calling this “the worst movie ever made”. It says something when one of the most overhyped movies of its time, one that everyone was seeing in droves anyway, was being touted as the worst ever. Nowadays, saying that a major money-maker sucks isn’t a big deal, but up until that point few movies made enough at the box office to be both a success and “awful” simultaneously.

I think the weirdest part is that those who said Avatar sucked also said that everyone else liked it. I even remember a g1 linking a YouTube rant on how the movie was terrible and that people kept calling it the best ever. Sorry, “the breast ever”. Yeah, a piece of celluloid was being degradingly compared to a woman’s mammary glands. Ponder that.

On a more serious level, I don’t think this is the worst movie ever. For one, a lot of technical prowess and clever filmmaking went into it. The world of Pandora was designed with attention to minute details, right down to how the plants and animals would behave. The Omaticaya were designed to look like hybrids of aliens and Native, even down to their facial features and communal habits. The motion capture technology from WETA still looks impressive, almost 7 years later. Even Zoe Saldana, who played Neytiri, spent months reading Shakespeare to nail her character. And this is only scratching the surface.

So yeah, Avatar can’t be the worst movie ever because it’s too well-made. You can argue whether or not the script is any good. You can argue whether or not the characters are interesting. You can even argue whether or not the film’s too long. But saying that it’s “the worst film ever”? Are you sure?

Distinguishing between not liking something and it being “the worst ever” is important. Because if you want films that qualify as “the worst ever”, then you’d have to dig deep. You’d have to dig into the works of Ed Wood and Michael Bay, Roland Emmerich and Uwe Boll, to really see the dregs. And even then, you’d barely be scratching the surface! Sure, Avatar might not be amazing, but it’s too well-made to be the worst.

This argument is really hyperbolic rhetoric. However, like subtlety and originality, it’s overrated rhetoric because it lacks weight. It’s not poignant, it doesn’t hold much interest. And considering that this was propagated by the internet for some time, it speaks more volumes about that than this movie. But I digress.

6. “No one likes Avatar, no one ever did!”

How quickly we forget.

Perhaps it’s a sign that I’m getting old, but there was a time, back when Avatar was still new, that everyone said the exact opposite. Back then, everyone claimed that everyone liked the movie, when they shouldn’t. I remember people being pissed that it was on the IMDb Top 250 List for a few years. I remember people flipping their lids that Rotten Tomatoes was praising it, even though an 83% isn’t exactly “high praise". I even remember getting into a debate with a g1 I was close friends with over it, with said g1 stating that too many people loved Avatar and that “damage control” had to be done.

I think the big kicker was that Avatar got a Best Picture nomination at the 2010 Oscars. That’s right, Avatar received a Best Picture nomination. It lost to The Hurt Locker, a movie that’s also pretty divisive, but it still received one. This was all I kept hearing for months after, that it “received an unjustified nomination” and that “The Academy was full of themselves”. This was almost 7 years ago.

But I guess time leads to revisionist history, so I can’t say I’m surprised by the shift. Still, it raises authenticity questions when people can’t even keep their opinions straight: is Avatar loved by everyone, or is it hated by everyone? Because the answer to that question is “no” on both fronts, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

I was originally going to clump points 5 and 6 into a mega-response, but I opted against because they represented points that were worth analyzing separately. In the case of the former, it’s a complete fallacy, easy to rebut because of its place in the anti-Avatar camp. In the case of the latter, however, it’s slightly more nuanced. The argument, as well as its progenitor, is a straw-man claim unique on its own: the blanket statement. It indirectly thinks that it speaks for everyone, when it doesn’t. Even ignoring that it’s commonly-accepted practice to state how mediocre Avatar is while defending it, which also drives me crazy, the facts argue contrary.

To start, Avatar currently holds an 83% on Rotten Tomatoes, a culmination of 244 positive reviews of 293. That means that of the 293 reviewers, roughly 8 out of 10 of them gave the movie a positive review. Not necessarily a glowing review, but a positive one. Additionally, the median score there is a 7.5/10. That’s a C+ on any paper, if I’m not mistaken. But since the discrepancy is a little confusing on its own, here’s the consensus:

“It might be more impressive on a technical level than as a piece of storytelling, but Avatar reaffirms James Cameron's singular gift for imaginative, absorbing filmmaking.”

Read that carefully. Now, re-read it. And then read it again. The majority of the praise is in the technicals. Since film is largely visuals, that’s a big deal. But it reflects the experience of watching the film too: Avatar isn’t the most-captivating narratively, but it more than succeeds viscerally.

Next, Metacritic. Well look at that, an 83 too! Of course, Metacritic uses a more calculated system and has fewer reviews, but an 83 is pretty good. And given that this is based on 35 reviews, of which 4 are mixed, that’s quite interesting considering that “no one likes this movie”.

If we move to user reviews, it’s a similar story. Rotten Tomatoes’s user community pegs the film at an 82% from 1379423 people, with a 4.1/5 median score. Metacritic’s user community pegs it at a 7.5/10 with 2936 reviews. And IMDb, which is entirely user based, places it at a 7.9/10 from 891196 votes. Who, exactly, doesn’t like this movie again?

I get it, people love using hyperbole. But you have to face the facts, and these ones don’t lie: lots of people like Avatar. Not necessarily love, but like. And yes, many dislike it too, I’m reminded of that every time it gets brought up, but it’s still largely enjoyed.

Look, the pointless internet threads are one factor, the numbers are another. But when you try to throw out claims of “objectivity”, well…be prepared to be challenged with facts. There’s no “no one likes Avatar”-ing with facts that argue contrary. All this means is that you need to change your claim to something quantifiable, like how you didn’t care for it. I know it takes more effort, but it’ll also make you sound more credible.

7. “James Cameron only focusing on sequels to this movie shows that he’s become a sell-out!”

Finally, the “movie I didn’t like has a sequel, therefore the director is dead to me” argument. How I envy thee! This one loses its lustre with every passing day, especially with the current film environment in Hollywood. Since 2009, we’ve witnessed:

-Disney buy out Marvel and Star Wars.

-The emergence of the MCU, which’ll have its 14th entry come November.

-The reemergence of Star Wars as a franchise property.

-A failed reboot series of Spider-Man, which lasted two entries before being canned due to mixed reception and lukewarm box office.

-The beginnings of a DC film franchise.

-Two more Michael Bay Transformers sequels.

-A sequel to Independence Day.

-Pixar’s sequel phase.

-Disney announcing sequels to two of their theatrical films, Frozen and Wreck-It Ralph, as well as a Big Hero 6 TV series.

-Four more X-Men movies, one of them being a spin-off based on Wolverine.

-The beginning of a franchise centred around Deadpool.

-The revival of the “monster versus” genre.

-A fourth Mad Max movie.

-Three more Ice Age movies.

-Two Despicable Me films.

-And, of course, countless Avatar sequels.

That’s only scratching the surface. If anything, Avatar having 4 sequels is a natural progression and a symptom of Hollywood’s current system of endless sequels, prequels, reboots and remakes. And yet, it’s become the poster boy for everything wrong with Hollywood, despite having plenty of room for world building. And yes, I did say that the movie warrants sequels.

This argument is more a direct result of two problems: one, that James Cameron is willing to die on this hill. And two, that he’s not making that Battle Angel Alita movie he’s been promising for years. I…can’t comment on the latter, as I don’t know anything about it, but considering Hollywood’s awful track-record with anime adaptations, perhaps not getting that movie is a blessing in disguise.



As for the former, why’s it such a big deal? For one, bad movies get sequels constantly. And two, I’d rather this than another Transformers film, especially considering they’re nearly 3 hour explosion-fests with cardboard cut-outs. Say what you will about Avatar, it at least tried saying something worthwhile. The results are debatable, but it tried.

I’m also curious as to why this movie gets maligned for sequels and not some of James Cameron’s other franchises. Remember, Aliens came out 7 years after Alien. Terminator 2: Judgement Day also came out 7 years after The Terminator. Both are considered classics on-par with their prequels, perhaps even better. And yet, because it’s Avatar, a movie that a few people were mixed on, a sequel or 3 is “too much”.

Besides, didn’t the aforementioned franchises go straight into the gutter once Cameron left? Why’s that not a viable argument to maintain control of this one? Okay fine, creative stagnation, I get it. But if the MCU can stay fresh after nearly 14 movies, then at least 2 sequels to Avatar can work in the worst-case scenario. And if the sequels suck? Well, I’ll judge that when the time comes. For now, however, I’m keeping an open mind.

Which is really what separates me from the detractors: my open mind. I don’t think Avatar’s perfect, I recognize its flaws. But I don’t shut it out because I don't consider it the greatest movie ever. And I’m sorry if James Cameron has become something long-time fans don’t want now that he’s super-famous, but I’d rather him be that than nothing. Besides, the man’s proven himself multiple times before. He’s left behind a legacy for people to enjoy, so it’s easy for me to forgive his change in course since Titanic.

I mean, if I can do it, why can’t you?

Sausage Misnomer: When a Movie Misses the Point

Comedy’s subjective. It’s specific to context, and it has to strike a chord with its intended audience. It also has to juggle the tightrope of being relevant and aggressive enough to stick, while simultaneously general enough to not be unhelpful. This is especially true for biting comedy, except this time there’s the additional obstacle of being offensive enough to remove people from their comfort zone, yet clever enough to not insult the wrong group in the process. In other words, comedy is tricky, and it can fail if delivered the wrong way or by the wrong person/group of people.

This leads to Sausage Party, a movie I recently saw and have mixed opinions on. Essentially, I’m amazed it functions at all. The concept was initially marketed like a direct-to-DVD movie, and not even a good one, and its trailers were horribly misrepresenting. It wasn’t until I looked at its R-rating that I began to take it seriously, and even then I was bewildered. Why would an animated movie in the West be R-rated? And who in their right mind would enjoy it?

To answer the second question, the reception speaks for itself. But outside of that, the movie definitely earns its R-rating. To give a general gist, Sausage Party takes place in a supermarket where food has sentience. They’re under the impression that the “gods”, aka humans, take them to “a better place”, when reality states otherwise. So when a lone hot dog discovers the truth, he makes it his mission to warn everyone that their utopia is a lie. This sounds like it could have potential commentary on how humans are the top predators and eat lower life-forms without thinking of the greater implications.

Before I go into my spoiler-filled analysis, I’d like to state right now that I did enjoy it. I got many laughs from its writing, even though 75% of its dialogue contains unneeded expletives, and it took advantage of its premise. The anti-PC stereotyping in the film didn’t bother me that much either, as, ignoring the fact that I usually think of computers, Canadian politics and a food brand when I hear “PC”, it makes fun of everyone equally. In other words, it’s hard to be offended when everyone's a target.

No, what really bothered me is the message. Remember how I said there’s potential as a commentary on humanity’s relationship with food? That’s not what it’s about. You’d think it’d be about that, what with the humans buying food, but nope! Instead, the movie uses this as an opportunity to comment on religion.

So we’re clear, I’m not against commenting on religion. It’s a layered subject with a lot of room for introspection and analysis. In the same breath, religion is frequently used a tool for oppressing and suppressing the masses by those in power, so criticizing that doesn’t bother me either. What I’m against is blanket critiques of religious institutions. It seems to be socially-acceptable to do that these days, and it annoys me because it fails to acknowledge nuance.

See, religion is complicated. Like any social structure, it exists to help maintain civility and order. It also gives the spiritual side of an individual, which does exist, an outlet to express itself in a controlled manner. It may seem like it comes with “needless” rules, and to an outsider I can see why that’d be, but those rules, like any other, are meant to maintain that order. I don’t even consider them rules, more like necessary guidelines.

I’m well-aware that religion can be and has been oppressive. It’s human, and like any human system, it’s prone to misuse and corruption. We’ve seen it through The Crusades, The Spanish Inquisition and the repression of LGBTQ groups in the US. Religion can be a weapon of harm, and it’s done a lot of damage throughout history. In that sense, I see why someone might be offset.

But it’s a tool that can be used for good in the right hands. I know that on the Jewish side, for instance, there are laws like those from harvesting, which are meant to help the poor and needy. When you harvest, you’re supposed to leave a corner of your field, and well as loose droppings and the odd grain you missed, for the poor, as it’s a reminder that the food you have isn’t really yours. It’s something people wouldn’t appreciate without a religious structure, and it, like many other “rules”, are actually somewhat brilliant. Religion is what you make of it, essentially.

Which is why Sausage Party’s message doesn’t sit well with me, as it attributes everything wrong with the world, even that which has no easy answers, to the shackles of religion: pedophilia? Religion’s fault. Bigotry? Religion’s fault. The Israeli-Palestinian conflict? You’d better believe it’s religion’s fault!

Here’s a secret: it’s not really. Pedophilia exists because people are aroused by children. Bigotry is based in ignorance. And the roots of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict can’t be explained without a formal lecture. None of these are inherently religion’s fault, because, again, religion is a tool that can be used for good or bad. To shirk the blame on something that’s, inherently, neutral, is…dishonest. Besides, people like Josef Stalin weren’t religious, and they were monsters too.

I’m not sure why this movie argues that anyone who’s religious is some repressed, horny jerk who’d blindly believe something toxic even if it doesn’t make sense. Sure, there are people who are like that, no doubt. But in my community alone, there are many religious individuals who are worldly, successful and incredibly happy with their lives. They’re not “repressed”, they’re the exact opposite.

There’s also a really over-the-top orgy scene in the finale that rubbed me the wrong way for that exact reason. Ignoring that this is most-likely why the film got an R-rating, it makes it look like religion holds you back form pleasure, and freeing yourself from it is natural and healthy. It trivializes sexuality, which is a natural and healthy part of the human condition, and that sort of extreme is more hedonistic than natural. I understand it’s supposed to be funny, but I was more wincing than giggling.

There’s also missed potential for a balanced argument with the human “gods”. They’re not given humanity, they’re monsters. Considering that humans eat food to survive, that’s doing them a disservice. I’d have liked to get into their heads more, instead of that one druggie who gets his head chopped off in the third-act. It’d have been interesting, clever and, above all, nuanced.

Ultimately, Sausage Party is another film that, like Life of Pi, over-trivializes religious beliefs to make a statement. Except that, unlike Life of Pi, it acts like religion is something to reject instead of something to collect. That not only bothers me a religious person, it also bothers me as an intelligent human being. Why make such a petty argument about something so complicated? What, are we 5 years-old?

But I digress. For all my faults, I did enjoy the film. Which is possible, seeing how art isn’t a science. You can enjoy something without agreeing with it. I simply wish Sausage Party recognized how juvenile its message is, instead of treating it like something profound. That, and not fanning the flames of ignorance and bigotry.

Suicide Bros.-The DCEU Conundrum

Good Lord!

So Suicide Squad finally was released in theatres. In a move many didn’t want, yet somewhat expected, it was panned by critics. This makes the third consecutive film in a row, right after Man of Steel and Batman VS Superman: Dawn of Justice, to be trashed, leaving little hope for the DCEU (that’s what DC’s franchise is being called) to gain traction against the juggernaut that’s Marvel. It’s also already caused backlash amongst die-hard fans, reviving the tinfoil hat conspiracy of reviewers being biased. But that’s something I’ve already covered.

So that we’re clear, I’m not a DCEU fan. I’ve never seen a DCEU movie in its entirety, nor do I intend to. The weird, aesthetic blend of Nolan’s Batman movies and DC comic books doesn’t mesh in my mind, and nothing I’ve seen has really convinced me otherwise. All the more upsetting because I’m a bigger fan of DC’s superheroes than Marvel’s, having grown up with the former through Saturday morning cartoons. But I digress.

What’s surprising about Suicide Squad is rumours of behind-the-scenes footage revealing that a major subplot involving Harley Quinn and The Joker’s relationship was cut to skirt questionable material. For those unaware, Harley Quinn was an Arkham Asylum psychologist who fell in-love with The Joker, to the point of assuming the guise of villainess to appease him. Their relationship has often been depicted as shaky, but amidst the rough patches it’s been stressed that the two do love each other, even having sex on numerous occasions. Harley’s path to villainy has been retconned and modified over the years, but that much has remained the same.

Before covering the deleted scenes, I should make it clear that the DCEU’s basing its origin of Harley Quinn off of the Nu52 run of comics that started several years ago. In them, Harley becomes crazy after being shoved into a vat of chemicals by The Joker. I don’t like this decision, as it robs her of her most-compelling aspect: choosing to become Harley Quinn. Up until Nu52, Harley became who she was because she wanted to, making her infatuation with The Joker, who was clearly abusive, all the more tragic. The “vat of chemicals” origin is lazy, but I guess laziness is canon now.

Anyway, the deleted scenes reveal a much larger presence of The Joker. Initially, The Joker was alleged to have shoved Harley into the vat of chemicals with the intention of killing her because he saw her as a cheap gag. After realizing that she’d survived, he dove in to rescue her. He then developed a psychological fascination for her, and he began treating her like his, to put it bluntly, “bitch”. It was only once she got arrested that he realized how much he needed her, so he began stalking her when she joined the Suicide Squad in an attempt to “win her back”.

Sound familiar? It’s because that’s similar to the relationship Jessica and Kilgrave had in Season 1 of Jessica Jones. In both cases, the two ladies were in abusive relationships with men who used them as pawns. In both cases, the two ladies broke free of their relationships as a result of outside circumstances. And in both cases, their former lovers became obsessed with them shortly afterward. There are differences between the two, Jessica wasn’t a psychologist thrown in chemicals who got arrested, but the underlying theme of abusive, stalker-like men controlling their lives is definitely a common link.

And yet, Warner Bros. axed this relationship, one that could’ve added layers to Harley Quinn, because the subtext was “inappropriate”. Instead, we’re left with scenes involving The Joker and Harley that appear and disappear so fast you’re left wondering where the missing reels went. That’s a shame. True, the missing footage might’ve been uncomfortable, but it’d have added meat to this clearly-emaciated film. It’d have been interesting, in other words.

It also would’ve probably helped Suicide Squad fare better critically. I doubt it’d have been by much, the behind-the-scenes complications speak for themselves, but it’d have at least given it a bit of an edge. I know that reshoots and cut material are commonplace in film, especially when there’s a studio agenda, but given that the DCEU is already struggling to gain traction after three movies…this seems less about necessity and more about asserting dominance. David Ayer would’ve been in a lose-lose situation regardless, but he’s not an idiot. Tampering with his vision for the sake of it is more harmful than helpful, especially when your “brand” is about promoting the “filmmaker’s vision”.

It also adds further concern over the future of the DCEU. Ignoring that Zack Snyder and David S. Goyer have already botched two movies, Suicide Squad being panned indicates that the problems with the DCEU are bigger than them. Suicide Squad was supposed to be David Ayer’s baby, and it failed despite containing two elements the previous films lacked: characters and humour. It also makes me less-than-hopeful for Wonder Woman, a film slated for next year, because I don’t trust Warner Bros. anymore. I don’t trust that they’ll respect Patty Jenkins’s vision for the titular Amazonian, nor am I hopeful the end-result will be good. I could end up being wrong, there’s always that, but it seems doubtful at the moment.

Finally, since this needs addressing, I’m aware that the MCU is a studio-driven franchise too, and that many people who’ve participated in it, be it directors, writers or actors, have come out frustrated by the lack of creative input. But I’m willing to let that slide because the head of that universe, Kevin Feige, knows what he’s doing. He has a clear goal, and so far it’s worked to his advantage. Until the DCEU proves that it knows what it’s doing, I’ll forever be turned off. It hurts to say that, but it’s true.

The Woman Joke? Rape Victims in Storytelling

Confession time: I’m not a fan of Alan Moore’s The Killing Joke.

I’ll admit that the shock appeal was ground-breaking at the time, highlighting the lengths The Joker will go to break Batman, but the concept behind it doesn’t strike me as appealing or interesting. At least, not like this. I recognize that it has fans, but, save that brilliant monologue in the finale, it’s not something I attach to.

Here’s a general synopsis of this comic. By the way, there’ll be spoilers:

The Joker, who’s escaped from Arkham Asylum once again, rents out a funhouse at an abandoned carnival to try and break Batman. He makes an unannounced trip to the apartment of Barbara Gordon, aka Batgirl, with a gun, a camera and a tourist’s outfit. He shoots her right in the pelvis, rendering her paralyzed, and knocks out her father, Commissioner Gordon, to be taken to said funhouse. Once there, he strips Gordon nude, straps him to a cart, places him in a straight-jacket and inundates him with photographs of Barbara being raped. Batman makes his way to the funhouse, whereupon The Joker monologues about Batman being a stick-in-the-mud before confronting him in the rain. The comic ends with The Joker telling Batman a joke, which gets him to finally laugh at him for the first time.

Sounds heavy, huh? Well, it was, and it began a path for Barbara that’d eventually lead her to don the persona of Oracle in another comic. It was also another example of how twisted The Joker was, on top of another comic where he’d murdered Jason Todd, aka Robin #2, for shock value (albeit, this time, as a response to fans voting for it.) The Killing Joke remains a favourite to this day, such that an animated film was released this year…that added controversy to the already controversial story by way of a sex scene.

Like I said before, I’m not a fan of the comic. I’m not a big comic reader as is, so part of it might be that too, but I couldn’t help finding it vapid when I read it all those years ago via a YouTube video that probably doesn’t exist anymore. It seemed like it had no reason to exist other than shock value, and that it dragged Barbara Gordon, who’s one of my favourite DC characters, into this for no reason irked me. Because, really and truly, why Babs? Why her specifically? What was it about her that warranted a crippling from The Joker-actually, it’s The Joker, I understood that.

But in the years since, the idea behind the comic irked me even more. It’s especially bad because women in comics, let-alone storytelling in general, have a tendency to get shafted when it comes to depth and fairness of character. They’ve been subjected to torture, violence, death, kidnapping and even sexual abuse in ways that their male counterparts rarely see. So to have Batgirl, one of the most-iconic superheroines in comic book history, go through a traumatic event for the sake of “shock value”, well…it makes her a cheap, disposable pawn.

I know what some of you are thinking, and no, I have no problems with violence and/or rape stories…when done with nuance. To demonstrate what I mean, I’ll use two stories based on comic books as examples. Once again, there’ll be spoilers:

First, Rose from Fullmetal Alchemist. This is a show loosely based on a Manga by a woman named Hiromu Arakawa, and it’s become so famous that the controversy surrounding its existence is best left for another day. Rose initially appears in a town called Lior, and she believes in its corrupt priest’s alchemy because he’s promised to revive her dead boyfriend. It isn’t until the main characters, Edward and Alphonse Elric, reveal the priest’s scam that she realizes that she doesn’t need men to be happy. This also leads Lior into civil war, causing the military of Amestris to intervene with guns and violence.

The last we see of Rose in the first-half of the show is her defending some innocent children from Amestrian soldiers while being told to surrender. She doesn’t, boldly shouting words of defiance. It isn’t until Edward and Alphonse return to Lior in the second-half of the show that we find out Rose had been raped, impregnated with a child that she’d given birth to and lost her ability to speak. She’d become the figurehead of the Lior resistance, most-notably via Scar, one of the show’s antagonists, using her as a pawn for his revenge against Amestris and Lyra, an alchemist’s apprentice who’d bounced jobs several times, as a pawn for the resistance in Lior. Both turned her into something she’s not, and it’s through Ed and Al that she regains her voice and humanity long enough to escape the creation of a Philosopher’s Stone.

Fast-forward to the final arc, and we see that Lyra’s using Rose once again for her own, selfish gain. This time, however, it’s though her baby, whom is revealed to be a gateway to the door to truth. It turns out that Lyra’s actually a crooked alchemist named Dante, who’s desperate to live forever and will swap bodies with innocent people. Once again, Rose has had her humanity stripped to serve someone else’s agenda, and once again she’s freed by Ed and Al when they foil Dante’s plans.

This sounds not that much different from Barbara being shot, but there’s a huge difference: Rose being stripped of her humanity is a plot-point that’s properly explored in Fullmetal Alchemist. It isn’t used solely for shock value, Rose’s pain is validated in-show on multiple occasions. We see the aftermath of her being raped, used, abused and nearly made a host for Dante. She also gets a happy ending in the final episode, raising her son surrounded by people who care for and love her. Barbara Gordon never gets that reconciliation in The Killing Joke.

Then there’s Hope Shlottman from Season 1 of Jessica Jones. Jessica Jones’s main theme is about the psychology of abusive relationships anyway, but Hope gets crapped on the most. She’s introduced in Episode 1 as a hostage of Zebediah Kilgrave, who can control people’s actions briefly through words. He uses Hope as a tool to get back at Jessica for breaking free of his hold and nearly killing him all those years ago, deciding that a pretty face with a clean track-record is the way to do it. Kilgrave’s hold on Hope also comes with a caveat of her murdering her parents in-front of Jessica and forcing her to go to go jail as a fall-girl. Once there, we find out that Hope’s pregnant with Kilgrave’s baby, which she opts to abort.

Hope lives with the agony of being one of Kilgrave’s victims until Episode 10, when she’s released from prison on hopes of a court hearing. Kilgrave gets to her first, and he takes her to a diner, along with several other victims, to stage his ultimate revenge against Jessica. When Jessica arrives, Hope seizes the opportunity, grabs a knife and slits her throat. In her dying breaths, she makes Jessica promise she’ll kill Kilgrave, which Jessica reluctantly accepts. The episode then ends.

Like Rose, Hope is more than a pretty face. She’s tortured and robbed of her humanity, even being sexually assaulted and impregnated. Like Rose, Jessica Jones also doesn’t skimp out on developing Hope. She has a personality, made an integral part of the story and has her frustrations and pain validated. She doesn’t get a happy ending, unlike Rose, but she gets justice when Kilgrave’s neck is snapped by Jessica in the season finale.

You see the pattern? Like The Killing Joke, both shows have a woman put through trauma. Like The Killing Joke, both are horrifying. But unlike The Killing Joke, these shows don’t skimp out on the aftermath. They don’t abruptly end, or even leave it up to the viewer what happens. They show and discuss what happens after the victim is violated, the former on multiple occasions, and their inevitable fates. In both cases, the victims feel like real characters, not simply a plot device.

Which is more than I can say about Barbara Gordon in The Killing Joke, a fact made worse in the film with her having a romantic affair with Batman. This is meant to signify their bond, but even ignoring the questionable subtext of a father and daughter figure having sex, it makes Barbara an even bigger pawn by objectifying her for the sake of Batman’s personal motivation. And Barbara Gordon not getting reconciliation for her trauma until years later, under the helm of a different team of writers altogether, is especially troublesome because she becomes another victim in a medium that’s already cruel enough to women.

Remember, to paraphrase Anita Sarkeesian (yes, I’m going there), you can enjoy something while still acknowledging its problematic elements. I don’t doubt the influence The Killing Joke has had on comics and mainstream geek culture, and it’s definitely a well-crafted piece of work. Additionally, if you like it, that’s fine! I simply don’t connect with it for the aforementioned reasons, which is a shame because there’s potential in-story for an exploration of the aftermath of rape and violence on women. It’s simply unfortunate that they’re not explored until years later, and by different people.

Reflections on Star Wars: The Force Awakens

Movies have a weird effect on me the second time around. Sometimes I like them more, having gotten over the initial reaction and moved to a deeper appreciation of what’s being presented. Sometimes I like them less, having gotten over the initial reaction and realized how bland or unimpressive they are. And sometimes I like them about the same. Star Wars: The Force Awakens is the former, being a movie that left me initially cold, to the point of even harshly criticizing it in my review, yet respected enough to enjoy for what it was. Since the movie’s available on Netflix, I figured I’d revisit this film.

FYI, there’ll be spoilers, so be on guard.

Let’s get the biggest elephant in the room out of the way: Rey’s character. Detractors have pegged her as a Mary Sue, meaning that she’s super good at what she does and has no flaws. I don’t agree. Rey has fears and concerns throughout the film, most-notably using her family as an excuse to avoid attachments, and she does make mistakes, like when she accidentally releases the rathtars aboard The Millennium Falcon. Rather, I think Rey’s a victim of a different problem. It’s one that I normally expect more from Hollywood’s most-infamous stink-writer, aka Damon Lindelof, than Michael Arndt and Lawrence Kasdan, and that it appears here is annoying. Essentially, Rey’s a “mystery box” character, a character where everything about her is riddles and secrets meant to be revealed in the next film.

To be fair, Luke Skywalker had minimal development in the original Star Wars film. And, like Rey, he was innately and unnaturally skilled. But that movie didn’t hide who Luke was from the audience. We knew who he was, what he wanted and how the war had impacted him. We get a bit of that with Rey, especially with the revelation that she’s a Jedi, but most of her character remains a mystery. I’m willing to suspend my disbelief if it means her being fun and relatable, but I’d have liked to not have more questions after watching the film than when I started it. If she doesn’t have a payoff in the sequel, I’ll be disappointed.

Speaking of which, the montage when Rey touches Luke’s lightsaber, which I’ve seen a few times on YouTube, bugs me for that same reason. I’ve heard theories as to what it means, but it’s never resonated. It never directly makes sense in the context of the film, and it leaves too much open for interpretation. I always scratch my head when it happens, and while I know that film is all about show-don’t-tell…there’s a fine line between that and being vague for the sake of it. Also, the movie brushes off how Maz Kanata acquired the lightsaber in the first place, which is lazy…even with the film’s time constraints.

The destruction of Hosnian System remains a mixed bag, even after seeing that part of the movie multiple times on YouTube too. The reason why is the reverse of Alderaan in the original movie; where as that had the emotion from Leia’s end, at the expense of seeing it from the people of Alderaan’s point of view, the Hosnian System has the emotion of the system, but no reason to emotionally be invested in its destruction. This is because there’s no build-up. I wouldn’t have even known why the Hosnian System was so important without a YouTube video’s explanation. MYSTERY BOX INCORPORATED!

Finally, little details leave open questions of in-story character decisions. Questions like, “Why did Kylo Ren turn to the Dark Side?”, or, “Why did R2-D2 turn on at the exact second that he did?”, or, “Why didn’t Leia accompany Rey to Luke’s location if she was so insistent on finding him?”. Considering that film has such progressive leads, i.e. a woman and a black man, for its franchise, that Leia gets shafted for the fourth time in a Star Wars film is starting to get grating. We see that she’s become a general, so why relegate her to the sidelines?

Also, Finn’s character development is rushed.

So what do I like about this movie that I didn’t pick up on before?

Well, pretty much what everyone else has praised: the acting, the effects, the music and the sense of scope. I’ll forever remain steadfast in my belief that Star Wars, up until now, was never known for A-list acting. People give the Prequels crap for being badly-acted, but guess what? So were the original films. They tried, but I can think of a dozen moments where the acting was off or bizarre. The Prequels merely upped the ante, such that it was overtly apparent. But yeah, this is the first film with actual, genuine performances.

As for the effects, they’re good. The overhype about “practical effects” didn’t initially impress me, especially since I’m not a believer that “less CGI is automatically better”, and the idea that so much of it was supposed to “look real” was a turn-off. After all, the original films didn’t look real either, as much as people state otherwise, while the Prequels had effects that, in my opinion, looked decent. But I guess the lived-in, gritty feel is important for immersion. And it’s definitely a beautifully-realized world.

In my original review, I criticized the film’s score for being subpar by John Williams’s standards. I still hold that to an extent, but I’ll admit the orchestrations are growing on me. I’ve had the opportunity to listen to many of the tunes on the radio, and I like them a lot more now. I’ve especially become fond of March of the Resistance and The Jedi Steps, the former for being incredibly catchy and the latter as a haunting remix of one of the most-iconic pieces of music in film history. It’s not an excellent score, but it comes pretty close in certain places.

Finally, there’s the scope, both in wonder and emotional resonance. The former is self-explanatory, as the movie looks like big. I always thought that the Prequels did too, especially since they, like it or not, expanded on the Star Wars lore, but this film acknowledges its scale on several occasions, most-notably with Poe Dameron staring at the ceiling while being escorted by Stormtroopers through Starkiller Base. The emotion is made most-apparent through the relationship Kylo Ren has with Han Solo, making Han’s death that much more tragic. That the movie made Kylo Ren more interesting in one film than Darth Vader in six is also a testament to how much thought was put into him.

In my original review, I gave Star Wars: The Force Awakens 4/5 stars. It’s actually a quarter of a star higher, maybe half if I’m being generous. I still have issues that keep it from getting a higher grade, but I can’t say that it hasn’t grown on me. And who knows? If the sequel fixes some of my problems, I might like it more in the future!

(By the way, did Kylo Ren actually lose a limb in his fight with Rey? It was never clear.)