Moana, or, witty title about colonialism here.

I saw Moana this week. I really enjoyed it. I liked the songs, the animation, the characters, the story, everything. It has vast critical praise. My friends like it. All is well.

Then I found out that some (if not all) the people who it represents are offended. There's a  FB page detailing grievances, from the costume incident to failures to properly portray characters, whitewashing, brownwashing, and everything in between.


This essay  is dense. I read it, but I'm confused. The author demands the native consultants on the film step up and explain Disney's motives, or at least reveal their names. They accuse Disney of  Brownwashing the perspective, and painting the time before colonialism as too idyllic.

I felt guilt while watching the film. 'Gee, this place seems nice. Of course white people fucked it up.'

People are mad because Maui is fat. I thought Maui looked muscular, buff. No other person in the film was even a little rounder, either muscular or fat. People claim it's fat-shaming, and steryotypical to show a native that way. Am I allowed to point out that Maui is heroic, strong, smart, and does things no other character could? Maybe providing a role model for rounder people? Or is that racist? I'm not being passive aggressive, I'm honestly very confused.


My knowledge of that area is limited; there was a post-movie fight where Bahamute had to explain to me that Polynesia covers far more than Hawaii, all the way down to New Zeland. That the Maori are part of it. I was ignorant and wrong, I admitted it.

Then somebody said the coconuts in the film are offensive, as Coconut is a slur, and they do a Maori dance. I don't remember any dancing in the movie by those things. I had no idea Coconut was a slur. I've learned more about racism towards Polynesian people in the last ten minutes than the rest of my life.

Why should I feel guilt for things done hundreds of years before I was born?

Why shouldn't I carry the weight of what people like me did to people who looked different?

Who am I to say what's racist?

Who am I to deny how much I loved that film?

What can I do? How should I feel? This isn't my fight; if I try and make it so am I just taking a stance away from someone it actually effects?

There's racism and oppression at Standing Rock right now; why am I worried about this, where nobody's been physically hurt or arrested?

What do I do? How should I feel?

I think it's too late for me not to like Moana. I've seen it. The attachment is done. Do I just feel guilty for that and move on? Am I blowing this out of proportion? Aside from educating myself, do I have a responsibility to this idea, these people, this fight?

I feel ill.

Beauty

When I was four years old I'd probably already been to the old Cinemark I II III theater many times. My father took me on this particular trip. It was a Disney movie. I don't remember if I saw any trailers or commercials or even know what was happening.

Then the lights dimmed and I saw this:

The golden light slanted across the screen as piano tinkled in the background. I sat still, in shock. I had a singe thought:

'This is beautiful.'

It's my earliest memory of understanding beauty. Not cuteness, not something merely pleasing to the eye; what I saw was beautiful. What I heard was beautiful. And both those things worked together to produce something even better than the sum of its parts.

Beauty and the Beast is my favorite Disney movie. It goes beyond the basic visual beauty, of course; a bookish brunette on the outs from her peers? That was much of my childhood. I still own my VHS copy (along with the special edition DVD and Blu Ray; what can I say, they all have different special features). I'm participating in my second run of the musical at my local theater. I know the lines, I know the words, I even know the dances (despite my general malaise towards choreography).

And now we have the live action remake.

I've spoken out against remakes and reboots.  Disney seems determined to make live action alternate universes for their properties, and my whinging won't stop them. But I'm actually for this version. Great care seems to be in place with the casting. Alan Menken returned to do new musical numbers. There is great respect for the original, not just the desire for a quick buck (I hope).

I cried when I saw Belle touch the bell jar in the teaser. I admit it. I'm tearing up just thinking of the music. This movie has impacted me in so many ways. And yes, I'm excited for the remake. There are things that bother me (why is Babette named Plumette? Why is she a bird? Why does Lumiere-McGregor look like that?) but I'm still very excited. Many of my fellow cast mates are dubious about Emma Watson as Belle, but I've enjoyed her as Hermione, and see nothing thus far that's bothered me about her Belle.

The Beast looks and sounds great. I've never liked the Beast on the Broadway soundtrack (sorry Javert!). The deep resonance of Robby Benson (HA) has been my standard, and Dan Stevens is doing a fine job with it. A far cry from 'That Guy who did pretty well in Night at the Museum 3'.

We won't be getting the Broadway songs, but Menken has penned new numbers that I'm sure will be perfect. He's Alan Freaking Menken for God's sake. 

Gushing aside (and I could go on about my pleasure over Ian McKellen as Cogsworth, Josh Gad as LeFou, etc), I'm overall excited for the new take on the tale as old as time.

The world could use a story of daring sword fights, magic spells, and princes in disguise right about now. We need something to take us away from all this, if only for a little while. Let us forget who we...WHAT we have to face as a nation. For those few hours let us peer into the world of the Beast, and understand that those different from us are still human. We can't let what we don't understand scare us. 

We need to remember that Beauty is found within.

Reality

Tonight PTIV's 'Beauty and the Beast' opens. And, like so many times before, I'll be hovering behind the scenes, behind curtains, and behind drops.

A drop, for any of my non-theatrical readers, is the painted cloth hung on the stage to simulate a background. Ours is of an old city street, helping flesh out the provincial French town Belle lives in. 

Behind the drop are props and the stage's back wall. You can walk across the stage behind it and not be seen; the shadows won't show to the audience. If you go very fast you can make a ripple. But otherwise you're in a place between worlds. A place of quiet. An in-between place. Not reality, not even staged reality. Just outside of the edge of reality.

It's a Lovecraft space. A rip or a tear could let you through; it's the thinnest of barriers, but seems to be a whole world.

I feel like I'm there now.

The unreality of the last few days is still with me. I see things from the outside world, through the drop of internet, the media, Facebook; all hyper real, and beyond my touch. I am behind the drop.

The drop is going to fail. I am going to go through the other side. Something will pull me through. Something will make me tear through. The tiny rips are starting; a riot in a Royal Oak school. Friends terrified they or their loved ones will be attacked.

Will I push through a rip or be pulled through? What will do it? A sit-in? A protest march? My brothers in law being accosted? Someone deciding I look 'too ethnic' and doing something about it?

I'm no elder god. I'm no squid-faced horror from the beyond. I'm not even outside of reality. All I am is an actor who is scared. Fear that's sent me clawing at the drop. I'm trying to create my own rips with safety pins and internet barbs. Neither are very sharp. But the barrier is very thin.

Tonight I'll trod the boards and stand behind the village drop. I'll stroke the red velvet curtains that I've know for twenty years. I'll stand in darkness, alone, or with my cast. I'll forget the otherness and dissolve into the show, if only for a moment. Our drops, castle and town, will stand.

When will my Lovecraft space meld with reality? What will tear through? And, dear God, will I have the strength to stand it?

Pumpkinhead 2: Bloody Hell

Pumpkinhead 2: Bloodwings is an awful film. This isn't news, the movie came out over twenty years ago. But the badness of this film goes beyond unlikable characters (which it has), and a boring plot (another get for this film).

 You look like a mogwai.

The main plot centers on Officer Dad-From-Hellraiser trying to solve a set of murders in a sleepy little town, and a murder that happened in the fifties that are somehow interconnected.  SPOILER: the people getting killed by the title character committed the murder in the fifties. Also, some kids pushed/murdered an old lady and dug up the demon in her backyard and the demon is after them as well.

Yet, with every stupid thing I just mentioned, it pales in comparison to the film's ultimate sin; SHODDY POLICEWORK!

It makes Wiggum look competent.

I'm no cop, but I do know they can't share details of an ongoing investigation with their family. Especially crime scene photos!

Autopsy reports take more than a few hours to come back. One strange blood sample won't have the chief of police and the head medical examiner jump to demons committing murder. It takes me right out of the movie.

Don't get me wrong, the movie is a 'so bad it's funny' affair. But only just. I'm very happy it was part of a collection with three much better movies: Wishmaster, Wishmaster 2, and Leprechaun. That's right, LEPERCHAUN is better than PH2!

PH2 is better than Leprechaun Origins, however.

This is the closest I've come to regretting a purchase since Cabin Fever. I give this movie half a pumpkin out of a whole head. Skip it, unless you're a big Soleil Moon Frye fan.

Once more, with feeling?

I took Spanish and French classes in High school and at University, with mixed results. I can speak a little Spanish and read a little french, but probably not enough to carry a conversation. Yet, as it often does in the fall, my urge to learn another language, fluently, has reared it's head.

The first one that comes to mind is Japanese, but for shallow reasons. I like manga, anime, and the rich culture. Not sure I'd ever visit the country, so outside of being a possible Weeaboo, the applications are limited.

Then comes my own heritage and culture; Hebrew or Yiddish. I know a little of both, stray words here and there that have been peppered into my daily life. But my contact with that side of the family is minimal, and another venture where I'd have little chance to use it.

There's always re-learning Spanish, probably the most useful in my area, but with little reward. I managed okay the first time, but it wasn't of that much interest.

I could learn Russian and induce Hubby to re-learn it alongside me, but aside from having our own communication system, it's a limited application.

German interested me; I'm part German, I work for Volkswagen, and I started on that path with Duo-Lingo. But that went nowhere.

I'm torn. Aside from theater all attempts at a hobby have fallen away. Do I have the wherewithal to try this again? And if so, what do I start with?

Out of everything, Japanese seems the most interesting, and with the most application to my own interests. But can I really justify learning the language just to watch movies and read manga? Can I reduce a rich culture down for the possibility of running into another speaker? A country I'll probably never go to? I don't know.

Does it make me a Weeaboo?

Clowns to the left of me, clowns to the right.

So, clowns have invaded two towns in South Carolina. Children report the figures are trying to lure them into the woods with money. With over 2 months until Halloween, it's a little early for antics this hardcore. And that's coming from someone who's favorite book is literally about a clown stalking and killing children.

Also, they're a giant spider. Not kidding.

My original joke was that this was a marketing campaign for the new IT remake. There's speculation that it's viral marketing for Rob Zombie's new film 31. If this was the case I'd assume it'd happen in more places, with less emphasis on kids. No studio or director is going to want a promoter shot in the name of marketing. There's reports of residents randomly firing into the woods to deter the clowns. So...yay.

I'm all for scaring kids, creepy clowns, and horror movies. But this is a step too far. Scare kids on Halloween, in haunted houses, or a hayride. Not in their backyard, unannounced.

Best case, this is misguided marketing. Most likely it's a prank.

I don't want to consider the option that mentally ill people are doing this, and what they might intend. Killer Klowns are one thing, Creepy people are another.

The world just lost some magic

Gene Wilder died today.

What can I say to explain how he affected me? The dry sarcasm of Willy Wonka. Jim's color blindness. Dave's reaction to actual blindness. Dr. Frankenstine's character arc. Leo's panicked screams. 

How many gags have I stolen, how many lines have I repeated, how many times did I watch my sister's old VHS of Chocolate Factory?

I don't have the words. I have DVD and VHS and a million laughs. That's what I have.

I'll leave you with the description from Gene's twitter, a more brilliant line than I'll ever pen:
 

Now THAT'S funny.

The IT Spot: Pennywise

So, we've finally gotten a glimpse at Pennywise. Behold!

Hm.

Well, it's creepy. The facepaint is nice and different. And I like old-tyme style clown costumes. In theory. But I'm hoping this is a 'final form' Pennywise; he's supposed to have a colorful, attractive outfit. He scares kids, but he also attracts them. Nothing about this clown would bring in a kid.

I'll be interested to see more.

Stress

I had a weak day. I bought a bunch of new mythology books at a local bookstore. I ate candy and drank pop and watched stupid videos online.

I had a strong day. I went for a long walk with my husband and my brother in law. I planned the weeks meals, mostly healthy. I got fresh fruit. I scrubbed my shower.

I had a weak weekend. I was mopey Saturday, I binged all of season 3 of Bojack Horseman, and I didn't clean the bedroom.

I had a strong weekend. I did a lot of laundry, cleaned off the entertainment center, cleaned up a mess in front of a spare door and saw a friend I hadn't seen for a while.

I had a weak work week. I had a conference about my failings, my plan to not talk to the people who hurt me failed miserably, and I had to take an anxiety pill to halfway cope with the meeting.

I had a strong week. I saw family, friends, I cooked, I snuggled my pup, and I played Pokemon go.

 Now we're at a new week. I'm stressed over a dog my Mom is pet sitting. I'm stressed about a ton of things at work, none of which merit explaining. I'm hot and sleepy and just unhappy.

I'm looking forward to seeing the new Star Trek, and watching Breaking Bad with a friend, and going home to my husband and cat and bed.

(You can see his knee)

Time to count my blessings and soldier on. It's Monday morning. It'll be fine.

Semi-Reboots; Ghostbusters, Star Trek, and Beyond

SPOILERS. SO MANY FREAKIN' SPOILERS.

...Ugh...

Chances are you've seen my wild elation over the new Ghostbusters. If not, know that I love it; it falls higher in my esteem than the Extreme Ghostbusters, the IDW comics, and the second half of The Real Ghostbusters.

Phelous is the only other person who shares my level of hate.

But a lot of people are complaining about how this is too similar to the original. It does hit some of the same beats, but this is easily explained in two words: alternate universe.

Like the new Star Trek, this Ghostbuster's film seems to take place in an alternate universe. Unlike that film, the timeline-altering event is now shown in film, but with careful observation it's clear.

This universe is the result of Egon dying young.

We see an unnamed copper bust in-film of Harold Ramis' Egon. Assuming this is a memorial, everything else falls into place; Peter Venkman (in this universe named Martin Heiss) and Ray Stantz (no idea what his new name is) began their work on the paranormal with Egon, when working with their dangerous equipment killed him. Peter couldn't cope with the loss and delved into debunking everything that he percieved killed his friend.

Ray kept up with the work for a while, but the University eventually fired him. Without Peter to drive him into 'the private sector' he turned to being a cabby to pay the bills. But his academic work was studied and built on by Erin and Abby. Thus the "It's only a calls 5 full torso apparition."

Winston simply fell into another line of work. One where he still works with the dead, though.

So, what does my theory mean for the franchise? Much like in Star Trek (especially Star Trek Into Darkness) we may still see the same beats playing out differently due to the new universes new circumstances. And I'm fine with that. I'd love to see a brand new story, but I'm not adverse to seeing what these girls would do faced with Terror Dogs and Gozer.

Either way, I get more Ghostbusters. That's a win in my book.

The Ghostbusters blog

So I saw Ghostbusters this weekend.

I really liked it.

I bought the in-universe book (and yes, broke my no buying embargo. But it was the last copy!).

I want to be Abby (Melissa McCarthy) for Halloween, if I can round up some others to fill out the roster. You know who you are (cough, Camy, Bree?).

The ratings are rising on IMDB, and a solid 73% from the critics on rotten tomatoes, where the audience score is also rising. It's done better in the box office than expected (though China's thrown a monkey wrench into things).

On to the mushy stuff.

I've never seen a Ghostbusters movie in a theater before. I've never gotten to hear the theme play in surround sound, or see the Ecto-1 pull up to the firehouse, all larger than life. I've never been blinded by the proton stream. I've never heard the CLUNK of a trap as it rolls across the floor and pulls an evil spirit to the depths.

I wept openly when I finally had these things.

I got to experience it with my family. We all liked it.

But the most important thing is I don't need to lie to myself. It was good, for real and true. I don't have to make excuses or flinch at the so bad it's bad parts, or say 'yeah, but you have to consider'. None of that. It was good. My optimism paid off, as it so rarely does.

I am so happy.

I'm on fire.

I've finished The Fireman by Joe Hill. It's the second book of my 'no more buying books until I've finished these five' vow. It was great. I was so happy.

Then I remembered today is the day my dad died seven years ago.

Blogging about John and Harper and Nick and Allie and Renee and their struggles with fanatics, killers, and the government seems frivolous. But what can I say that hasn't been said? My pain remains, numbed by time. Tears still come, irregular as July rain. Not strong enough to douse the embers left from fictional death, not a hope of quenching real sorrow.

My lips are dry and my throat cracks. Still fighting my mundane illness, spitting up gobs of yellow-white chicken fat. Less glamorous than black and gold scales that ignite and smoke. I don't even have a fever. Just a few caterpillar green pills.  Back into the fray.

Tonight is Breaking Bad night. I'll be with my husband and a friend. Mom is house-sitting, so I'll avoid that drama. This is the only part of the day where I'll have solitude and time to reflect. But the pool is dry. All I see is cracked earth. Dust whirls and makes my eyes water.

So thirsty.

The IT spot: IT begins.

Production has begun! We even have our first production photos:

We've also got some Pennywise concept art.

Not sure how I feel about it. IT is my all-time favorite book, and I don't think it can be filmed and retain all of the meaning. The mini-series is proof of that. But I think a decent telling could be committed to another media. Much like the Ghostbuster's movie, I'm remaining cautiously optimistic. For now.

Ughhh....

For those of you who know me IRL, you know I've been sick for almost two weeks now.

I've been coughing, wheezing, and generally run down. Yes, I've been to a doctor, and yes I'm on steroids and prescription cough syrup. My chest burns when I hack due to the length of time I've had the cough. It is getting better, slowly.

I'm not looking for sympathy; my awesome hubby has provided that in spades, and even took a day off so I could go to the doctor. I'm kinda apologizing for not having the gumption to continue the 3rd part of my DHMIS series. Love will have to wait.

So, why not watch it now to catch up?

Sorry about that

That last (taken down) post was unfinished. Further bulletins as events warrant.

Don't Hug Me I'm Scared: THIS IS IT! Part 1

I've posted before about the DHMIS series. I also kickstarted it. The 6th and final episode just aired. Watch it. I'll wait.

It's about media, that much all the viewers agree on. But what does it all mean? Let's take a multi-part in depth look!

The first episode details how creativity is only encouraged to a point. Go, make stuff, but make sure it's inside the box, and doesn't do anything to challenge the corporate overlords. I.E.Yellow Guy stating "I might paint a picture of a clown" and the Notebook replying "Whoa there friend, you might need to slow down." and doing this:

Also Notebook telling Yellow Guy "Green is not a creative color."

 Yellow guy is the series designated Butt Monkey. It doesn't get better for him.

We also get the first hints of characterization from the  Red Guy declaring that using your hair to express yourself "...sounds really boring."

He's my favorite.

Bird guy just plays along. More on him later.

So, it's a basic message; the corporate overlords represented by the Notebook teacher want us to be creative, but only inside their preset parameters.A good way to establish the tone of the series, and a subtle message delivery. But it's not the end.

We'll discuss more next time.

The IT spot: BEVVVVVV

We have our Bevvie! Sophia Lillis, another who I've never seen in anything, will be young Bev Marsh.

Bev is the only girl in the Loser's club, and has a...controversial part to play near the end that I assume will be left out. She's pretty great, glad she has a face.

Look, a pic of the whole loser's club:

Can't wait to see them mentally scarred for life by a supernatural clown monster! Guess which one of them kills themselves as an adult rather than face IT again?!!

Hm.

I may be a terrible person.

I have a bad fin

I saw Finding Dory last night. I also got the worst calf cramp ever, and my usual 'point my toes upward' thing didn't help. I accidentally woke hubby with my pain noises.

So today I'm walking with a limp.

Remember the little flappy motion Nemo does when he swims? That would be dignified next to my klumping gait. But it's a temporary thing. I'm hydrating, and later I'll try and massage the area. I'm just here to complain.

On a pleasanter topic, Finding Dory was a fun movie, and a great step up from the cry-fest that was The Good Dinosaur. I only cried a little!

Screw you, Arlo.

I also saw The Nice Guys, a sadly overlooked Shane Black romp. It's got sex, drugs, action, humor, bees, and Keith David. What more could you need?

Awww yeah.

Now, off to 8.5 hours of limping and yelling.