Joyeux Nouvel An!
2011 is upon is! To close what has been a busy and eventful 2010, I present to you the final list of all the movies I've seen in the past year. I am proud to announce that I am in excess of my 52 movies per year goal by almost TEN WHOLE MOVIES.
Needless to say, I'm pretty excited about that. Armed with new resolve to continue my standing resolution AND a new membership at the Museum of the Moving Image (an AWESOME Christmas present care of my wonderful aunt and uncle), I'm confident my cinephilic zeal will carry over into 2011. I'm excited to see what movies the new year has to offer.
Aren't you?
And now: THE LIST
1. Fantastic Mr. Fox (3)
2. Up in the Air (4)
3. Year One (1)
4. Duplicity (1)
5. Bonnie and Clyde (5)
6. 12 Angry Men (4)
7. This Is It (4)
8. Shutter Island (4)
9. Wolfman (1)
10. Alice in Wonderland (1)
11. The Hurt Locker (4.5)
12. Remember Me (0)
13. Bean (3)
14. The King of Kong: Fistful of Quarters (4)
15. Kick-Ass (5)
16. The Tenant (3)
17. Shine (3)
18. Agua Fria de Mar (3.5)
19. Beijing Taxi (3)
20. Dogtooth (3)
21. Twilight: New Moon (1)
22. The Blindside (4)
23. Brothers (4)
24. Extraordinary Measures (1)
25. Surrogates (1)
26. La Vie et la passion de Jésus Christ. 1902. Silent. (3)
27. The Automobile Thieves (incomplete). 1906. Silent. (3)
28. At the Crossroads of Life. 1908. Silent. (4)
29. Old Isaacs, the Pawnbroker. 1908. Silent. (4)
30. The Jacket (2)
31. Obsessed (1)
32. Blindness (4)
33. Please Give (4)
34. Toy Story 3 (5)
35. Orphan (4)
36. Changeling (5)
37. Despicable Me (4)
38. Jindabyne (3.5)
39. The Sorcerer's Apprentice (1)
40. The Kids are All Right (4)
41. Zombieland (4.5)
42. The Devil Wears Prada (2)
43. Eat Pray Love (3)
44. Scott Pilgrim vs. The World (4)
45. Enchanted (3)
46. Last Train Home (4)
47. Frozen River (3)
48. Tibet in Song (5)
49. Jaws (3)
50. Catfish (4)
51. The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (3)
52. For Colored Girls (4)
53. Due Date (3)
54. Megamind (3)
55. Single White Female (2)
56. Boys Don't Cry (4)
57. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (3)
58. Tron Legacy (3)
59. The Invention of Lying (3.5)
60. True Grit (4)
61. Black Swan (4.5)
The highlights: Bonnie and Clyde (1967), the Hurt Locker (2008), Toy Story 3 (2010), Changeling (2008), Zombieland (2009), Tibet in Song (2009), and the out-in-theaters-now Black Swan (2010).
The lowlights, which I cringe even now to remember: Year One (2009), Duplicity (2009), Wolfman (2010), Alice in Wonderland (2010), Remember Me (2010), Twilight: New Moon (2009), Extraordinary Measures (2010), Surrogates (2009), Obsessed (2009), and The Sorcerer's Apprentice (2010).
Best Movie Seen This Year: Changeling
This is a really tough decision, but this was such a riveting movie, and my impression is that it's under-viewed. So go see it!
Worst Movie Seen This Year: Remember Me
A very easy decision by comparison. Good holy God was that a terrible movie. I'm still angry I didn't ask for my money back, and that's not something I do lightly.
Also, rough year for Robert Pattinson if my ratings are any gauge.
With that, Boyfriend and I have some food shopping to do in preparation for our New Year's Eve celebratory plans. Have a safe and happy night tonight, and a wonderful New Year!
Onward and upward!
<3
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Conference #2: Are You Going to San Francisco? ...Because If You Are, I Have a Poster to Show You
Since I failed to extend them in my last post: Belated Season's Greetings!
So I'm back at the where-I-live-now home, in the great snowy North. My flight was punctual if my baggage retrieval wasn't, and now I'm snuggled in with my beloved kittens. Boyfriend makes four, and he's home tomorrow!
I was asked many, many times while at the where-I-grew-up home whether I was aware of the somewhat dire weather conditions striking my dear adopted city, seemingly being expected to wring my hands and swoon at the thought: SNOW in DECEMBER?!?!!
CAN YOU IMAGINE???
I (perhaps snidely) responded to these somewhat fear-mongering inquiries by saying: "Most places, it snows during the winter. We can handle it."
Now, after a few short days of digging out, it appears my fair city isn't too much worse for wear. Though I will say I appreciated my luck in cab drivers on the way home tonight. The car bucked and bounded down my still-not-fully-plowed little street, but the driver negotiated it masterfully. And then the gentleman helped hoist my too-heavy bag over the considerable snow bank barricading in helpless cars parked along the side of the street. Definitely not something I'd ever have to deal with where I grew up, but the novelty hasn't worn off yet. In fact, real winters are part of what I love so much about being here.
And with that: A little montage of my extracurricular touristing from Conference #2, in beautiful San Francisco!
That boat ride was pretty awesome, but also a little scary near the end there. It started raining right as we got off the boat, and it didn't stop pouring for the rest of the night. Good timing on our parts!
It was a good trip.
So in spite of still being wholly exhausted, I'm feeling less panicky about my work. I had a nice, helpful chat with my testing supervisor today, and got his edits for the testing report I'm writing. He didn't make too many changes, which felt good given that it's my first attempt. On the plane, I completed the report's second draft and worked a little more on my CV for externship applications. With all the crap I've done since applying to grad school, it's doubled in length--also a nice little ego boost (see, I've actually ACCOMPLISHED stuff!). Finally, I worked a tiny bit on my thesis data stuff. A productive day all around.
The sad thing is, I've had the worst attitude for the last few weeks. That always happens around midterms and finals, but because finals spilled over into the holidays, this has been a particularly difficult patch. I've had a lot of "Well, at least I only have three and a half more years of this" thoughts... And if that's the best consolation you can offer yourself, that's pretty depressing.
The truth of the matter is that I know grad school is going to get more and more demanding over the next few years, and that kind of scares me. I like my boyfriend and my cats, my family and friends, my city and, well... my LIFE. It's hard to enjoy all of those things when I feel like my head is spinning, which it has been full tilt for weeks now. I'm worried that's how things are going to be more and more as I get farther into my program, and I'm not completely sure how to weather that without becoming a shrieking banshee all the time. I don't want to be a shrieking banshee. I want to figure out a way to endure this process with grace and hopefully a little enjoyment. A clear path to that state of being just hasn't fully emerged yet.
In any event, I'm probably awfulizing. No one would do this if it were really that awful. Right?
.......Right??
But all that said, still: I got some good things done today. I feel renewed confidence in my ability to do this work. I really needed that. I still have a few weeks to finish the big, scary things still looming. As always, things will probably turn out just fine.
Dare to dream.
It is so, so late. Bedtime!
<3
So I'm back at the where-I-live-now home, in the great snowy North. My flight was punctual if my baggage retrieval wasn't, and now I'm snuggled in with my beloved kittens. Boyfriend makes four, and he's home tomorrow!
I was asked many, many times while at the where-I-grew-up home whether I was aware of the somewhat dire weather conditions striking my dear adopted city, seemingly being expected to wring my hands and swoon at the thought: SNOW in DECEMBER?!?!!
CAN YOU IMAGINE???
I (perhaps snidely) responded to these somewhat fear-mongering inquiries by saying: "Most places, it snows during the winter. We can handle it."
Now, after a few short days of digging out, it appears my fair city isn't too much worse for wear. Though I will say I appreciated my luck in cab drivers on the way home tonight. The car bucked and bounded down my still-not-fully-plowed little street, but the driver negotiated it masterfully. And then the gentleman helped hoist my too-heavy bag over the considerable snow bank barricading in helpless cars parked along the side of the street. Definitely not something I'd ever have to deal with where I grew up, but the novelty hasn't worn off yet. In fact, real winters are part of what I love so much about being here.
And with that: A little montage of my extracurricular touristing from Conference #2, in beautiful San Francisco!
 |
| The architecture is pretty divine. |
 |
| This guy was singing opera on some random street. |
 |
| Approaching the piers. |
 |
| I've always loved photographing flying birds. |
 |
| Later, we decided to take a little boat tour around the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz... |
 |
| At first the weather was beautiful, if a bit chilly. |
 |
| We chugged along on our little boat... I decided I liked this buoy... |
 |
| We slid under the bridge... |
 |
| ...looped around it... |
 |
| ...and took some touristy pictures... |
 |
| It really was a stunning day. |
 |
| Almost perfect, really. |
 |
| But then: HOLY SHIT what happened?! We are on the ocean and suddenly the sky looks black. We may die. |
 |
| And yet everything looks so peaceful on Alcatraz (irony?)... |
 |
| Peaceful enough that I could appreciate this morbidly amusing sign (click to enlarge). |
 |
| But the birds knew better. They were hauling ass away from the ocean. |
 |
| But still: beautiful. |
It was a good trip.
So in spite of still being wholly exhausted, I'm feeling less panicky about my work. I had a nice, helpful chat with my testing supervisor today, and got his edits for the testing report I'm writing. He didn't make too many changes, which felt good given that it's my first attempt. On the plane, I completed the report's second draft and worked a little more on my CV for externship applications. With all the crap I've done since applying to grad school, it's doubled in length--also a nice little ego boost (see, I've actually ACCOMPLISHED stuff!). Finally, I worked a tiny bit on my thesis data stuff. A productive day all around.
The sad thing is, I've had the worst attitude for the last few weeks. That always happens around midterms and finals, but because finals spilled over into the holidays, this has been a particularly difficult patch. I've had a lot of "Well, at least I only have three and a half more years of this" thoughts... And if that's the best consolation you can offer yourself, that's pretty depressing.
The truth of the matter is that I know grad school is going to get more and more demanding over the next few years, and that kind of scares me. I like my boyfriend and my cats, my family and friends, my city and, well... my LIFE. It's hard to enjoy all of those things when I feel like my head is spinning, which it has been full tilt for weeks now. I'm worried that's how things are going to be more and more as I get farther into my program, and I'm not completely sure how to weather that without becoming a shrieking banshee all the time. I don't want to be a shrieking banshee. I want to figure out a way to endure this process with grace and hopefully a little enjoyment. A clear path to that state of being just hasn't fully emerged yet.
In any event, I'm probably awfulizing. No one would do this if it were really that awful. Right?
.......Right??
But all that said, still: I got some good things done today. I feel renewed confidence in my ability to do this work. I really needed that. I still have a few weeks to finish the big, scary things still looming. As always, things will probably turn out just fine.
Dare to dream.
It is so, so late. Bedtime!
<3
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Conference #1: Seattle May or May Not Be the Subject of This Post
Hello loves.
I recently discovered that including pictures in blog posts is really fun (even when they're not my own, though it's much more fun when they are). In that spirit, and because I'm too mentally exhausted to craft a proper post, I've decided to provide a little travelogue of my aforementioned conference attendances.
To start: Conference #1. Guess the supremely obvious Northwestern location!
 |
| It may or may not have a very famous marketplace and generally overcast climate... |
 |
| Said marketplace may or may not have a big fluorescent "Lower Floor" arrow with which I am in love... |
 |
| The marketplace also may or may not be staffed by friendly people eager to hand out delicious apple samples (like this guy)... |
 |
| This theater entrance may or may not be covered in chewed gum... |
 |
| The mass of gum may or may not have smelled overwhelmingly and deliciously fruity, in spite of being disgusting to behold... |
 |
| This peace sign may or may not have been spray-painted upside-down... |
 |
| I may or may not have seen these little robot men throughout this mystery city... |
 |
| I may or may not be sick of this "may or may not" convention I'm beating into the ground... |
 |
| I may or may not be able to sustain the sense of mystery much longer, since there are only so many cities where people famously throw fish around... |
 |
| You may or may not have guessed that the mystery city is... |
 |
| Seattle!! (Hurrayyyy no more "may or may nots"! Oh wait...) |
 |
| Molly Moon's honey lavender ice cream may or may not be to die for. (Hint: It most certainly may!) |
 |
| Do you love this "Lower Floor" arrow as much as I do? You may or may not. |
...Is it apparent I'm really tired yet?
Suffice it to say, in spite of being delighted to spend the Christmas holiday at the where-I-grew-up home, finals never really came to an end for me this semester. I've been working on the assessment report for my testing client, figuring out which externships I'm applying to, finishing up data stuff for my thesis, and thinking about finishing the paper that's due before spring classes start up mid-January (only at the thinking about stage on that last one... I can only handle so much at once).
I'm very very tired.
More than anything, I would love to have just one day where I didn't have to think about grad school (let alone do grad school-related work). We'll see if I manage to snag one of those days before the minute winter break I have disappears.
Up next: Pictures from Conference #2, the final list of movies I've seen in 2010, and if we're really super lucky, one last end-of-year review!
'Til then.
<3
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
"Hedwig and the Angry Inch" of Sanity I Have Left
Bonsoir.
So I'm rethinking my commitment to writing about a movie AND grad school every single time I create a post, since that makes my posts really long, and that makes me not write them because I'm overwhelmed by the (actually relatively negligible, cosmically speaking) time commitment involved in covering both tasks in every post. Maybe sometimes I'll just write about grad school? Maybe sometimes I'll just write about a movie? I don't know. I'm considering my options.
ANYWAY.
So a month or so ago, I decided it was finally, FINALLY time for my boyfriend to watch "Hedwig and the Angry Inch" (2001) with me. This was a big decision. "Hedwig" is my very most favorite movie ever ever ever, and liking it is very important if someone is going to like me. It's weird, loud, emotional, and complicated... and if you can't handle that for only 95 minutes, there might be a problem if you're looking to hang out with me.
Of course, the comparison between me and this movie is not perfect. I am a reasonably normal (again, cosmically speaking) clinical psychology graduate student from somewhere hot and conservative, living in a neither-hot-nor-conservative large city. Hedwig is an East German male-to-female transsexual rock star. Our paths are somewhat different. Still, I like to think that she and I would be friends.
The movie is based on Plato's Symposium, a discussion of the nature and origin of love. The theory goes that human beings were originally composed of two people stuck together, but the gods became displeased with us and chopped us in half leaving us in the form we take today. As a result, humans are doomed to spend their lives searching for their other half, in the hopes of negotiating some kind of imperfect reunification.
"Hedwig" is an examination of this theory: Is there really another half of every person, waiting to be found? Can any one person complete another? *Should* they?
I first saw the movie in theaters, when I was in high school. It was like hearing the favorite song of a past life. It resonated with me immediately. I purchased the DVD as soon as it came out. I've since watched it countless times. I bought the soundtrack. I memorized the lyrics to every song like the words were my own. I dressed up as Hedwig for Halloween twice in a row, devotedly tracking down a Farrah Fawcett wig, red glitter lipstick, fishnets, a zebra-striped miniskirt, and a t-shirt that said "Boy Scouting" in big silver and red letters.
In short, this movie means a lot to me.
So boyfriend and I watched it together. I was giddy and nervous. What if he didn't like it? What if he thought it was too weird? What if he didn't *get* it??
The best song in the movie is, appropriately, titled "The Origin of Love". It's a make-or-break moment in the film--a statement of its thesis, its central question. It's filled with drama, yearning, terror and exhilaration. I watched boyfriend so carefully during the song, trying to guess his reaction. He was riveted. And then, during a sing-along sequence later, he sang along! Best of all, when the movie ended, he wanted to talk about it a lot!!
Success!!!
It probably seems silly to be so invested in any one film. But as I peeked at my boyfriend during that fabulous opus of a song, my eyes brimming with tears, I was reminded of why I love it so much. After dozens of viewings, the movie still makes me cry (multiple times). After years of watching it and thinking about it, new nuances emerge each time I see it. The movie is messy, and there's no pretty, neat conclusion at the end. You don't know what happens to Hedwig, and you don't know the answers to all of the questions the movie asks. Characters assert their different arguments, change, and their feelings about their arguments change with them. As the film closes, it leaves with a spirit of enduring inquiry. After contemplating loneliness, love, meaninglessness, and failure, the film leaves you feeling renewed, almost reborn. It's a very special movie.
So you should watch it.
I should also note, before I move on to my very very brief synopsis of grad school: For all of its beautiful and emotional intellectualism, "Hedwig" is also fucking funny. It's one of the most delightfully quirky and entertaining movies I've ever seen. And the soundtrack kicks ass. And John Cameron Mitchell is intoxicating. Seriously. Watch it, and you'll love every second of it.
And if you don't... Maybe we shouldn't be friends.
And now, the moment you've all been waiting for: I'm in the middle of finals, applying for externships, scrambling to get all of my thesis data together, and writing an assessment report. To be extra-special concise: grad school sucks. Hence today's title.
With that, I have to study for my research methods final.
<3
So I'm rethinking my commitment to writing about a movie AND grad school every single time I create a post, since that makes my posts really long, and that makes me not write them because I'm overwhelmed by the (actually relatively negligible, cosmically speaking) time commitment involved in covering both tasks in every post. Maybe sometimes I'll just write about grad school? Maybe sometimes I'll just write about a movie? I don't know. I'm considering my options.
ANYWAY.
So a month or so ago, I decided it was finally, FINALLY time for my boyfriend to watch "Hedwig and the Angry Inch" (2001) with me. This was a big decision. "Hedwig" is my very most favorite movie ever ever ever, and liking it is very important if someone is going to like me. It's weird, loud, emotional, and complicated... and if you can't handle that for only 95 minutes, there might be a problem if you're looking to hang out with me.
Of course, the comparison between me and this movie is not perfect. I am a reasonably normal (again, cosmically speaking) clinical psychology graduate student from somewhere hot and conservative, living in a neither-hot-nor-conservative large city. Hedwig is an East German male-to-female transsexual rock star. Our paths are somewhat different. Still, I like to think that she and I would be friends.
The movie is based on Plato's Symposium, a discussion of the nature and origin of love. The theory goes that human beings were originally composed of two people stuck together, but the gods became displeased with us and chopped us in half leaving us in the form we take today. As a result, humans are doomed to spend their lives searching for their other half, in the hopes of negotiating some kind of imperfect reunification.
"Hedwig" is an examination of this theory: Is there really another half of every person, waiting to be found? Can any one person complete another? *Should* they?
I first saw the movie in theaters, when I was in high school. It was like hearing the favorite song of a past life. It resonated with me immediately. I purchased the DVD as soon as it came out. I've since watched it countless times. I bought the soundtrack. I memorized the lyrics to every song like the words were my own. I dressed up as Hedwig for Halloween twice in a row, devotedly tracking down a Farrah Fawcett wig, red glitter lipstick, fishnets, a zebra-striped miniskirt, and a t-shirt that said "Boy Scouting" in big silver and red letters.
In short, this movie means a lot to me.
So boyfriend and I watched it together. I was giddy and nervous. What if he didn't like it? What if he thought it was too weird? What if he didn't *get* it??
The best song in the movie is, appropriately, titled "The Origin of Love". It's a make-or-break moment in the film--a statement of its thesis, its central question. It's filled with drama, yearning, terror and exhilaration. I watched boyfriend so carefully during the song, trying to guess his reaction. He was riveted. And then, during a sing-along sequence later, he sang along! Best of all, when the movie ended, he wanted to talk about it a lot!!
Success!!!
It probably seems silly to be so invested in any one film. But as I peeked at my boyfriend during that fabulous opus of a song, my eyes brimming with tears, I was reminded of why I love it so much. After dozens of viewings, the movie still makes me cry (multiple times). After years of watching it and thinking about it, new nuances emerge each time I see it. The movie is messy, and there's no pretty, neat conclusion at the end. You don't know what happens to Hedwig, and you don't know the answers to all of the questions the movie asks. Characters assert their different arguments, change, and their feelings about their arguments change with them. As the film closes, it leaves with a spirit of enduring inquiry. After contemplating loneliness, love, meaninglessness, and failure, the film leaves you feeling renewed, almost reborn. It's a very special movie.
So you should watch it.
I should also note, before I move on to my very very brief synopsis of grad school: For all of its beautiful and emotional intellectualism, "Hedwig" is also fucking funny. It's one of the most delightfully quirky and entertaining movies I've ever seen. And the soundtrack kicks ass. And John Cameron Mitchell is intoxicating. Seriously. Watch it, and you'll love every second of it.
And if you don't... Maybe we shouldn't be friends.
And now, the moment you've all been waiting for: I'm in the middle of finals, applying for externships, scrambling to get all of my thesis data together, and writing an assessment report. To be extra-special concise: grad school sucks. Hence today's title.
With that, I have to study for my research methods final.
<3
Saturday, November 13, 2010
“The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari” is FILLED with Terrifying TESTING KITS
Why hello there.
So things have been going pretty well.
Weekly therapy sessions are ongoing, which is really wonderful. With each additional session, I feel less and less like a hopeless novice and more and more like an actual therapist who has the right to tell people what to do and make them talk about their lives. It’s nice. I’ve even taught skills and done fancy-sounding things like psychoeducation. I know. Doesn’t that sound AWESOME? It should. Because it is.
I’ve also recently picked up a testing case, which means that I have to torture some poor child with endless cognitive assessments. I’ve made them define words, play with blocks, write sentences with eraserless pencils... It makes me feel a little guilty, especially when we get to the tasks I would hate doing. For example: there is a subtest where I say a random sequence of letters and numbers, and my client has to repeat that sequence back to me, but in numerical and alphabetical order.
I would hate anyone who made me do that.
I haven’t had anyone launch across the table at me for making them do that subtest yet, but it’s probably an inevitability. It wouldn't be altogether unjustified.
Even so, testing is kind of cool. It’s a very different task from therapy. Someone comes in with a question, like whether they should get a diagnosis, or whether they can get a diagnosis ruled out, or they want to know why they’re having trouble in school, or whether they can get into a gifted program. You make them do all these little tasks that evaluate their brain’s skills in these incredibly discrete little ways, and once you put all the little pieces of information those tests give you together, you can give them an answer to their question. Really it’s just another way to learn about how people’s brains work, which is obviously why I’m doing this stuff in the first place.
Moving on. Conference number two is next week, and then from there I get to go straight home for Thanksgiving. This means in a few days I’ll be standing next to a poster with lots of statistical words on it, and then I’ll be eating homemade donuts and watching the post-parade dog show on Thanksgiving morning. I will allow you to guess which of these two upcoming events I’m more excited about.
Pre-conference number two, I get to give another lecture on sexual and eating disorders. I’m particularly excited to talk about gender identity disorder, because oh my is that stuff interesting. I’m particularly fond of the disorder based on my alma mater’s history of performing gender reassignment surgeries, along with some FASCINATING reporting NPR has done on children being treated for GID. If you’ve got the time/interest, you should take a listen!
Finally: I have officially entered phase two of my thesis data collection. I’m currently in the middle of reading abstracts to determine if they fit with my remaining search criteria, and so far it’s going pretty well. A lovely proportion of articles may actually make it into my thesis, which makes me happy. It would be nice to have a sample size I need more than two hands to count.
And now, on to the film talk.
To celebrate Halloween, a classmate and I went to a beautiful cathedral in our fair city to attend the fabulous Procession of the Ghouls. This included watching a scary silent movie, followed by a parade of elaborately costumed scary-looking demon people.
The film was “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari” (1920), which was well-suited for the occasion. Silent films are by and large already kind of creepy, due to the unnatural muteness of their actors, the insane melodrama of gesture and music necessitated by the lack of spoken dialogue, and the foggy, jerky appearance of the images in much older cinema. Furthermore, given the surreal set design, it seems safe to say that Tim Burton took some cues from this movie. The actors rush around in spaces where structures create insane angles and are covered in jarring patterns, all of which foster a sense of madness and disorientation.
That being said, silent film isn’t really my genre. As a general rule, I really love older movies, but silents are just a little too anachronistic for me. Perhaps not surprisingly, I find it hard to fully immerse myself in a movie that has to jump between action and large chunks of text to get its story across. Also wtf, no zombies?! Nevertheless, the movie was fun, and a great selection for a Halloween exhibition in an already creepy nighttime cathedral. I gave it a 3.
So instead of my usual, more extensive film analysis, I have a treat for you:
Pictures!!
These are blurrier than my usual photography, but I feel like that captures the spirit of the experience.
Enjoy!
...You're welcome.
Happy post-Halloween!
Thanks, as always, for reading.
<3
So things have been going pretty well.
Weekly therapy sessions are ongoing, which is really wonderful. With each additional session, I feel less and less like a hopeless novice and more and more like an actual therapist who has the right to tell people what to do and make them talk about their lives. It’s nice. I’ve even taught skills and done fancy-sounding things like psychoeducation. I know. Doesn’t that sound AWESOME? It should. Because it is.
I’ve also recently picked up a testing case, which means that I have to torture some poor child with endless cognitive assessments. I’ve made them define words, play with blocks, write sentences with eraserless pencils... It makes me feel a little guilty, especially when we get to the tasks I would hate doing. For example: there is a subtest where I say a random sequence of letters and numbers, and my client has to repeat that sequence back to me, but in numerical and alphabetical order.
I would hate anyone who made me do that.
I haven’t had anyone launch across the table at me for making them do that subtest yet, but it’s probably an inevitability. It wouldn't be altogether unjustified.
Even so, testing is kind of cool. It’s a very different task from therapy. Someone comes in with a question, like whether they should get a diagnosis, or whether they can get a diagnosis ruled out, or they want to know why they’re having trouble in school, or whether they can get into a gifted program. You make them do all these little tasks that evaluate their brain’s skills in these incredibly discrete little ways, and once you put all the little pieces of information those tests give you together, you can give them an answer to their question. Really it’s just another way to learn about how people’s brains work, which is obviously why I’m doing this stuff in the first place.
Moving on. Conference number two is next week, and then from there I get to go straight home for Thanksgiving. This means in a few days I’ll be standing next to a poster with lots of statistical words on it, and then I’ll be eating homemade donuts and watching the post-parade dog show on Thanksgiving morning. I will allow you to guess which of these two upcoming events I’m more excited about.
Pre-conference number two, I get to give another lecture on sexual and eating disorders. I’m particularly excited to talk about gender identity disorder, because oh my is that stuff interesting. I’m particularly fond of the disorder based on my alma mater’s history of performing gender reassignment surgeries, along with some FASCINATING reporting NPR has done on children being treated for GID. If you’ve got the time/interest, you should take a listen!
Finally: I have officially entered phase two of my thesis data collection. I’m currently in the middle of reading abstracts to determine if they fit with my remaining search criteria, and so far it’s going pretty well. A lovely proportion of articles may actually make it into my thesis, which makes me happy. It would be nice to have a sample size I need more than two hands to count.
And now, on to the film talk.
To celebrate Halloween, a classmate and I went to a beautiful cathedral in our fair city to attend the fabulous Procession of the Ghouls. This included watching a scary silent movie, followed by a parade of elaborately costumed scary-looking demon people.
The film was “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari” (1920), which was well-suited for the occasion. Silent films are by and large already kind of creepy, due to the unnatural muteness of their actors, the insane melodrama of gesture and music necessitated by the lack of spoken dialogue, and the foggy, jerky appearance of the images in much older cinema. Furthermore, given the surreal set design, it seems safe to say that Tim Burton took some cues from this movie. The actors rush around in spaces where structures create insane angles and are covered in jarring patterns, all of which foster a sense of madness and disorientation.
That being said, silent film isn’t really my genre. As a general rule, I really love older movies, but silents are just a little too anachronistic for me. Perhaps not surprisingly, I find it hard to fully immerse myself in a movie that has to jump between action and large chunks of text to get its story across. Also wtf, no zombies?! Nevertheless, the movie was fun, and a great selection for a Halloween exhibition in an already creepy nighttime cathedral. I gave it a 3.
So instead of my usual, more extensive film analysis, I have a treat for you:
Pictures!!
These are blurrier than my usual photography, but I feel like that captures the spirit of the experience.
Enjoy!
 |
| OooOOooooOOoohhh Creeeeeeepyyyyy!! |
 |
| Getting a bit up close and personal, or: why I declined an aisle seat. |
 |
| This skeletastic cellist greeted us when we arrived. |
 |
| Three posing demon-people. |
 | ||
| Skelecellist joined in the Procession fun. The blurriness makes him extra-special scary! Completely intentional. |
 |
| Point of clarification: this guy is flourishing his cape, not like.. fanning his butt... or something... |
Happy post-Halloween!
Thanks, as always, for reading.
<3
Sunday, October 24, 2010
“Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” and Me vs. PsycInfo
Helloooooooooo lovies.
So I’m feeling all full of myself because I’m finally just about done doing the agonizing, painstaking hand-searching bit of the first phase of data collection for my thesis. WHICH MEANS I’ve basically located every single randomized controlled trial on motivational interviewing EVER PUBLISHED.
I know. I’m pretty hot shit.
This means I can soon go on to winnowing all of these articles down into the (probably very tiny) collection of articles which will eventually comprise my thesis’s data set. Which means I might actually eventually *have* a data set, which is good because I have to have one by next semester, and that’s moderately terrifying.
Also I’m back from conference number one, and recently completed my very own set of analyses to win entry to conference number two next month. I’m always pretty freaked out by SPSS, so I feel particularly triumphant when I wrestle it into producing the output I want (usually on the third or fourth attempt).
ALSO I taught a lecture on depression and suicidality a little over a week ago, and it was SWEET. This was for a graduate psychopathology class (rather than the undergrad abnormal psych class I lectured for this summer), so the stakes felt a little higher. But seriously, it was really fun. I felt really happy with how it went.
So victories all around!
On that note, I want to talk about “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” (2010). I know it’s a little late to be reviewing this film, since it came out over the summer and I saw it almost two months ago. Even so, given my perception that it didn’t do as well as I think it should have, I believe the movie warrants a review.
The basic story of the film is that Scott Pilgrim (played by Michael Cera) is a 20-something in Toronto whose band is preparing to enter a battle of the bands. The film opens as he begins dating an inappropriately young high school student. However, shortly after commencing that relationship, he sees Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) at a party and instantly falls for her. They begin dating (and somewhere after that, he dumps his girlfriend—oops), and then the shit really hits the fan: Ramona has seven evil exes, all of whom Scott must defeat in battles-to-the-death if he wants to stay with her. Fun times.
Generally speaking, I thought I was pretty much over Michael Cera. This is largely because I feel he plays the exact same character in everything—a 14-24 year old dude, typified by his awkwardness and emotionlessness (unless you count “mildly flustered/irritated” as an emotion, which just doesn’t cut it for me—I like my men with *feelings*).
Furthermore, all of the movies I’ve seen him in have either been pretty sub-par or perfectly nice, but in spite of him. By way of illustration: I loved Cera in “Arrested Development”, but then, I basically love *everyone* in “Arrested Development”. “Superbad” (2007) was funny, but not really because of him. “Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist” (2008) was pretty much forgettable. “Juno” (2007) was wonderful, but not really because of him. “Year One” (2009) was unforgivably bad.
You get the idea.
HOWEVER. In “Scott Pilgrim,” he’s delightful! He emotes! He’s funny—and not *just* because he’s awkward and emotionless (okay maybe just awkward... but I like awkward!)! You actually get the sense that he has longings, drives, motivations... that he is, you know, a *character* who approximates a somewhat believable *person*. It’s a wonderful change of pace. I recommend it highly.
Seriously though, this movie is the most fun I’ve had watching a movie in a while. It’s quirky, zany, fast-paced, and incredibly visually entertaining. It’s packed with little video game-inspired special effects, which nicely accentuate the myriad idiosyncratic bits of humor. I laughed out loud many times while watching.
The cast is pretty sweet. Kieran Culkin plays Wallace Wells, Scott’s gay roommate. The movie treats Wallace’s sexual orientation with a refreshing embrace of nonchalance, instead focusing on the adorably bro/mentor-like friendship he has with Scott. Because yes, seriously, straight guys can be friends with gay guys. An insane revelation, I know.
Alison Pill, who I’ve recently fallen in love with for her portrayal of April in HBO’s “In Treatment,” plays Kim Pine, the drummer in Scott’s band and one of his apparently many jilted ex-girlfriends. She shows her grudge against Scott by being deliciously underwhelmed with everything he does. It’s hysterical.
Ellen Wong plays Knives Chau, the high schoolery other half of Scott’s tragically short-lived romance before he meets Ramona (Winstead). Wong is so sweetly bubbly and naive that she perfectly embodies the over-exuberance of a doesn’t-know-her-relationship-is-doomed-yet, in-love-for-the-first-time high schooler. Winstead, on the other hand, is a great choice for Scott’s love interest—just weird and imperfect enough to not be boring, yet still memorably alluring beneath her absurdly-colored hair.
Finally, of course, no hipster movie would be complete without Jason Schwartzman (as Gideon Graves). The guy did “Rushmore” (1998) and nothing can ever take that away from him, but I have to face it: he is also decidedly one-note. However, playing his usual cocky-as-shit serves him well in “Scott Pilgrim”—he *is* the villain, after all. And he’s always fun to watch.
So really, there are many things about this movie I really liked. However, there are some flaws in the plot that have continued to gnaw at me.
In the course of his ex-battling, Scott learns that Ramona once dated the guy who’s now dating *his* one true evil ex, Envy Adams (played by Brie Larson). So Scott gets to kill two birds with one stone, really, by beating the crap out of this guy—past boyfriend to Ramona, current boyfriend to the first girl to break his heart. He eventually roundly defeats the ex/boyfriend by ridding him of the superpowers he derives from being a vegan. There are Vegan Police involved. The whole thing is pretty hilarious.
Thing is: I’m really bothered by the fact that we watch Scott risk his life seven times for Ramona, and not once does she lay anything on the line for him. This is made particularly clear during this sequence with Envy’s boyfriend. It seems painfully clear at this point in the movie that the filmmakers could have easily included an additional segment wherein, following Scott’s defeat of the boyfriend, Ramona battles Envy. Why *wouldn’t* she battle Envy? Scott’s battling all of her evil exes, and his *one* evil ex is *right there*!! But instead, Envy’s allowed to slip away to nurse her wounds and presumably find some other new boyfriend with whom to torture Scott.
It annoys me.
Futhermore (SPOILER ALERT): At the end of the movie, after defeating Gideon, there’s a brief moment wherein Scott considers whether to pursue Ramona as she moves back to New York, or to reunite with Knives. Knives has proven to be a formidable partner in battle, devoted to Scott and gifted with deft fighting skill. Through the course of the film, we have seen that they share a love of video games, and that Knives is an ardent supporter of Scott’s music. We have seen none of these things from Ramona, who has been decidedly passive (and frankly, pretty uninteresting as a human however nice she is to look at) for the majority of the movie. Knives and Scott are a great fit. Ramona and Scott... eh. AND HE CHOOSES RAMONA. Why? WHY?? Because she’s cute? Knives is cute!!
WTF MOVIE??
Really, I’m just totally bored by the female lead as damsel-in-distress thing. If someone’s going to fight for you, you should be worth fighting for—and not just because you’re pretty. Nothing about Ramona makes her appear worth fighting for, especially since she does nothing to prove that she loves or even likes Scott. She’s kind of lame. And I didn’t want her to be lame. I wanted her to be cool. Like Knives.
I’m pouting about it, as I’m sure you can tell. Pouting like a strong, empowered, worth-fighting-for and ready-to-kick-some-ass woman, but pouting nonetheless. As a result of the pouting inducement but the otherwise awesomeness, I gave the movie a 4.
And with that, I’ll sign off. Look at me writing more than one post in a month!
Thanks for reading darlings. Leave comments if you’d like!
<3
PS: It's my stepmother's birthday. Happy Birthday!!
So I’m feeling all full of myself because I’m finally just about done doing the agonizing, painstaking hand-searching bit of the first phase of data collection for my thesis. WHICH MEANS I’ve basically located every single randomized controlled trial on motivational interviewing EVER PUBLISHED.
I know. I’m pretty hot shit.
This means I can soon go on to winnowing all of these articles down into the (probably very tiny) collection of articles which will eventually comprise my thesis’s data set. Which means I might actually eventually *have* a data set, which is good because I have to have one by next semester, and that’s moderately terrifying.
Also I’m back from conference number one, and recently completed my very own set of analyses to win entry to conference number two next month. I’m always pretty freaked out by SPSS, so I feel particularly triumphant when I wrestle it into producing the output I want (usually on the third or fourth attempt).
ALSO I taught a lecture on depression and suicidality a little over a week ago, and it was SWEET. This was for a graduate psychopathology class (rather than the undergrad abnormal psych class I lectured for this summer), so the stakes felt a little higher. But seriously, it was really fun. I felt really happy with how it went.
So victories all around!
On that note, I want to talk about “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” (2010). I know it’s a little late to be reviewing this film, since it came out over the summer and I saw it almost two months ago. Even so, given my perception that it didn’t do as well as I think it should have, I believe the movie warrants a review.
The basic story of the film is that Scott Pilgrim (played by Michael Cera) is a 20-something in Toronto whose band is preparing to enter a battle of the bands. The film opens as he begins dating an inappropriately young high school student. However, shortly after commencing that relationship, he sees Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) at a party and instantly falls for her. They begin dating (and somewhere after that, he dumps his girlfriend—oops), and then the shit really hits the fan: Ramona has seven evil exes, all of whom Scott must defeat in battles-to-the-death if he wants to stay with her. Fun times.
Generally speaking, I thought I was pretty much over Michael Cera. This is largely because I feel he plays the exact same character in everything—a 14-24 year old dude, typified by his awkwardness and emotionlessness (unless you count “mildly flustered/irritated” as an emotion, which just doesn’t cut it for me—I like my men with *feelings*).
Furthermore, all of the movies I’ve seen him in have either been pretty sub-par or perfectly nice, but in spite of him. By way of illustration: I loved Cera in “Arrested Development”, but then, I basically love *everyone* in “Arrested Development”. “Superbad” (2007) was funny, but not really because of him. “Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist” (2008) was pretty much forgettable. “Juno” (2007) was wonderful, but not really because of him. “Year One” (2009) was unforgivably bad.
You get the idea.
HOWEVER. In “Scott Pilgrim,” he’s delightful! He emotes! He’s funny—and not *just* because he’s awkward and emotionless (okay maybe just awkward... but I like awkward!)! You actually get the sense that he has longings, drives, motivations... that he is, you know, a *character* who approximates a somewhat believable *person*. It’s a wonderful change of pace. I recommend it highly.
Seriously though, this movie is the most fun I’ve had watching a movie in a while. It’s quirky, zany, fast-paced, and incredibly visually entertaining. It’s packed with little video game-inspired special effects, which nicely accentuate the myriad idiosyncratic bits of humor. I laughed out loud many times while watching.
The cast is pretty sweet. Kieran Culkin plays Wallace Wells, Scott’s gay roommate. The movie treats Wallace’s sexual orientation with a refreshing embrace of nonchalance, instead focusing on the adorably bro/mentor-like friendship he has with Scott. Because yes, seriously, straight guys can be friends with gay guys. An insane revelation, I know.
Alison Pill, who I’ve recently fallen in love with for her portrayal of April in HBO’s “In Treatment,” plays Kim Pine, the drummer in Scott’s band and one of his apparently many jilted ex-girlfriends. She shows her grudge against Scott by being deliciously underwhelmed with everything he does. It’s hysterical.
Ellen Wong plays Knives Chau, the high schoolery other half of Scott’s tragically short-lived romance before he meets Ramona (Winstead). Wong is so sweetly bubbly and naive that she perfectly embodies the over-exuberance of a doesn’t-know-her-relationship-is-doomed-yet, in-love-for-the-first-time high schooler. Winstead, on the other hand, is a great choice for Scott’s love interest—just weird and imperfect enough to not be boring, yet still memorably alluring beneath her absurdly-colored hair.
Finally, of course, no hipster movie would be complete without Jason Schwartzman (as Gideon Graves). The guy did “Rushmore” (1998) and nothing can ever take that away from him, but I have to face it: he is also decidedly one-note. However, playing his usual cocky-as-shit serves him well in “Scott Pilgrim”—he *is* the villain, after all. And he’s always fun to watch.
So really, there are many things about this movie I really liked. However, there are some flaws in the plot that have continued to gnaw at me.
In the course of his ex-battling, Scott learns that Ramona once dated the guy who’s now dating *his* one true evil ex, Envy Adams (played by Brie Larson). So Scott gets to kill two birds with one stone, really, by beating the crap out of this guy—past boyfriend to Ramona, current boyfriend to the first girl to break his heart. He eventually roundly defeats the ex/boyfriend by ridding him of the superpowers he derives from being a vegan. There are Vegan Police involved. The whole thing is pretty hilarious.
Thing is: I’m really bothered by the fact that we watch Scott risk his life seven times for Ramona, and not once does she lay anything on the line for him. This is made particularly clear during this sequence with Envy’s boyfriend. It seems painfully clear at this point in the movie that the filmmakers could have easily included an additional segment wherein, following Scott’s defeat of the boyfriend, Ramona battles Envy. Why *wouldn’t* she battle Envy? Scott’s battling all of her evil exes, and his *one* evil ex is *right there*!! But instead, Envy’s allowed to slip away to nurse her wounds and presumably find some other new boyfriend with whom to torture Scott.
It annoys me.
Futhermore (SPOILER ALERT): At the end of the movie, after defeating Gideon, there’s a brief moment wherein Scott considers whether to pursue Ramona as she moves back to New York, or to reunite with Knives. Knives has proven to be a formidable partner in battle, devoted to Scott and gifted with deft fighting skill. Through the course of the film, we have seen that they share a love of video games, and that Knives is an ardent supporter of Scott’s music. We have seen none of these things from Ramona, who has been decidedly passive (and frankly, pretty uninteresting as a human however nice she is to look at) for the majority of the movie. Knives and Scott are a great fit. Ramona and Scott... eh. AND HE CHOOSES RAMONA. Why? WHY?? Because she’s cute? Knives is cute!!
WTF MOVIE??
Really, I’m just totally bored by the female lead as damsel-in-distress thing. If someone’s going to fight for you, you should be worth fighting for—and not just because you’re pretty. Nothing about Ramona makes her appear worth fighting for, especially since she does nothing to prove that she loves or even likes Scott. She’s kind of lame. And I didn’t want her to be lame. I wanted her to be cool. Like Knives.
I’m pouting about it, as I’m sure you can tell. Pouting like a strong, empowered, worth-fighting-for and ready-to-kick-some-ass woman, but pouting nonetheless. As a result of the pouting inducement but the otherwise awesomeness, I gave the movie a 4.
And with that, I’ll sign off. Look at me writing more than one post in a month!
Thanks for reading darlings. Leave comments if you’d like!
<3
PS: It's my stepmother's birthday. Happy Birthday!!
Thursday, October 7, 2010
“One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” and Into a Pile of Work: A Defense of Nurse Ratched
Hi everyone.
So this is seriously starting to get a little ridiculous.
This month is going to be a little nutty, so I’m not sure how much I can truly commit to this, but: I’m going to try to write more than one post a month this semester. Because if I can’t do better than one post a month, that just seems dumb.
That blog housekeeping aside... Let’s talk second year.
It’s been an eventful first month or so! I’ve fully transitioned to working with a new fellowship advisor this year, and that’s going well. So far my fellowship has been focused on entering and double-entering a ton of data and managing a baker’s dozen of flaky undergraduate and graduate volunteer research assistants (most of whom are “desperate for research experience”, but not so much that they ever show up to do any work). More interestingly, I’m attending a conference in the northwest for said fellowship this week, and while I’m more excited about visiting family and friends while there than I am about standing next to some posters for a few hours in itchy professional clothes, it should be a good experience in and of itself. At the very least, it means I get to add research presentation experience to my CV.
More awesome than that: I have a client. It’s awesome. But that’s all I’ll say about that.
Also: After plowing through MEDLINE and PsycInfo (for the very happily ignorant: databases that amass every social sciences, etc. article in the entire universe) on a randomized controlled trial (RCT) finding extravaganza and feeling very self-satisfied and productive, I’ve slammed into yet another wall with my thesis. I’m now at the end of the first phase of my data collection process, wherein I now have to look up individual articles *by hand* to see if they’re RCTs. It’s really boring and tedious, but I need to get off my ass and just do it. Luckily I had another monthly meeting with my mentor this week for another dose of fear-of-God. Hopefully I’ll push past this temporary obstruction to my progress and move on to more interesting data collection tasks.
Now: to movie talk!
Last week, I had the pleasure of re-watching “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” (1975). I was in high school the last time I saw it, and I thoroughly re-enjoyed it. However, given that I’m at a very different stage in my life and professional development now, I was struck by a theme in the film I hadn’t noticed before.
R. P. McMurphy (played by Jack Nicholson, of course) is a new transfer to an adult male inpatient psychiatric ward after being imprisoned, essentially, for a variety of illegal antisocial behaviors (but specifically, this time, for statutory rape). Nurse Ratched, played by Louise Fletcher, is the primary authority figure of the ward in which he is placed. While initially he attempts to ingratiate himself to her, McMurphy eventually turns against Ratched after realizing that his retention in the hospital is not subject to the same limitations as his incarceration. In other words, if he is successfully deemed insane after his evaluation at the hospital, he isn’t getting out when his original prison sentence is up—he’s getting out when he’s deemed sane again, which means he may *never* get out. Suddenly what McMurphy thought was essentially a vacation is in fact something much more sinister, and he’s pissed. As a result, things on the ward take a dramatic and ugly turn.
Ratched is a notorious bogeywoman in film history. She rules her ward with an iron fist, mercilessly emasculating (figuratively) and electro-shocking (literally) her patients with near-impunity. McMurphy is cast as a the rebellious antihero, raging against the castrating tyranny of Nurse Ratched with all the strength and cunning he has. Indeed, during the film’s climax, McMurphy nearly strangles her to death... to put her in her place, I suppose?
So the first time I saw this movie, I remember being totally on McMurphy’s side. As you’re supposed to be. He’s a resilient and stridently free spirit, damning the Man no matter what the consequences, refusing to be tamed. Except in this case, he’s damning the Woman, and I think that’s not a trivial detail. And here we are at the thing I didn’t notice in high school, but which struck me clear as day last week.
I get that “Cuckoo’s Nest” needs to be taken in context. The seventies were in many ways a high water mark in psychiatric institutions having the power to rob patients of their rights. Mental health professionals took a profoundly paternalistic view of their role in their clients' lives during that time. Moreover, with the war in Viet Nam coming to a close the year the film was released, after extremely vocal civilian protests, it’s hard to overlook the parallel of McMurphy’s resistance to the authority figures of the hospital. In addition to being a beautifully told and compelling story, this film is very much the product of its time.
However, it’s a product of that time in another way I now find troubling. Second-wave feminism was very much a part of the public discourse in the mid-1970s. The gender dynamics in this movie seem to be a clear reflection of '70's societal conflict over women asserting their power. McMurphy is supposed to be the hero in this film, but instead he now seems to be to be the embodiment of a frightening, violent backlash to feminine agency. So assured is he of his own entitlement to masculine dominance that he nearly wrings the life out of Ratched in an attempt to reassert himself and correct the gendered power imbalance.
...Of course it’s not quite that simple. McMurphy attacks Ratched because he believes she drove the fragile Billy Bibbit (Brad Dourif) to suicide by threatening to tell his mother he slept with McMurphy’s lady friend/a prostitute. And in McMurphy’s defense, she does needle Billy’s immense fear of his mother pretty aggressively. But in *Ratched’s* defense, no one made McMurphy turn the hospital into bedlam (ha, psychiatric hospital humor) by dragging in whores and booze before his botched escape attempt. It doesn’t appear to dawn on him that he’s a bull in a very-fragile-mentally-ill-people-filled china shop, treating the men of the ward as if they only need a fishing trip and some rum to make them all better, until it’s far too late—and he copes with that murky awareness by nearly murdering Ratched instead of turning on himself. I would argue that it wouldn’t have been possible for Ratched to push Billy over the edge if McMurphy hadn’t forced him to that edge in the first place.
We’re supposed to be repelled by Ratched’s lack of emotionality and the extent of her control over the men in her ward. The film clearly seeks to deride her for being dispassionate (translation: frigid) and measured (translation: calculating, also frigid), when in fact, within reason, these are hallmarks of a seasoned and effective mental health professional. Acting as if you’re in complete control when you’re acutely aware that you’re not ranks surprisingly high in the list of skills you need to survive as a mental health practitioner in any setting, let alone in a hospital, where you are direly outnumbered by possibly dangerous patients. I can attest to that from experience. Ratched’s steely composure is therefore, given her context, a virtue.
There’s a scene in the movie that sealed this Ratched reinterpretation for me. After hijacking a hospital bus filled with other patients and taking them fishing on a doctor’s boat, McMurphy’s status at the facility is assessed by a panel of (male) doctors. Ultimately, the doctors defer to Ratched in deciding where to place the deviant and possibly dangerous patient. Surrounded by men who want to return McMurphy to prison or transfer him to another ward, she instead advocates for retaining him in her ward. She argues against shuttling him to some other facility, taking a stand against passing the McMurphy buck down the line to yet another hospital that will probably only do the same—a typical pattern with difficult-to-treat patients to this day. Instead, she states she wants to keep him in her ward because she thinks she can get through to him.
We’re probably supposed to see that as a sinister ploy to keep McMurphy in her clutches, presumably for the purposes of breaking his beautiful, free spirit. And to be fair, that *is* essentially what happens. Thing is, the dude’s a psychopath, in the formal DSM-IV Antisocial Personality Disorder sense of the word. In his intake with the head psychiatrist at the hospital and in subsequent discussions of what to do with him, we learn that McMurphy has a long history of law-breaking and incarceration. He’s had sex with a minor on at least one occasion. He’s violent and manipulative. He’s charming and charismatic (classic hallmarks of a psychopath), which makes him appealing even to me, but he is *not* a hero. Ratched, on the other hand, is a resolute and skillful professional woman, doing a difficult job and doing it quite well.
...And she’s supposed to be the villain.
A big part of me still loves McMurphy and mourns what becomes of him. But more than that, I’m struck by the tragedy of the villification of this brave and strong professional woman.
Even with that taken into account, I give the film a 5. I mean come on. It's "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" for christsakes.
And with that... time to go.
<3
So this is seriously starting to get a little ridiculous.
This month is going to be a little nutty, so I’m not sure how much I can truly commit to this, but: I’m going to try to write more than one post a month this semester. Because if I can’t do better than one post a month, that just seems dumb.
That blog housekeeping aside... Let’s talk second year.
It’s been an eventful first month or so! I’ve fully transitioned to working with a new fellowship advisor this year, and that’s going well. So far my fellowship has been focused on entering and double-entering a ton of data and managing a baker’s dozen of flaky undergraduate and graduate volunteer research assistants (most of whom are “desperate for research experience”, but not so much that they ever show up to do any work). More interestingly, I’m attending a conference in the northwest for said fellowship this week, and while I’m more excited about visiting family and friends while there than I am about standing next to some posters for a few hours in itchy professional clothes, it should be a good experience in and of itself. At the very least, it means I get to add research presentation experience to my CV.
More awesome than that: I have a client. It’s awesome. But that’s all I’ll say about that.
Also: After plowing through MEDLINE and PsycInfo (for the very happily ignorant: databases that amass every social sciences, etc. article in the entire universe) on a randomized controlled trial (RCT) finding extravaganza and feeling very self-satisfied and productive, I’ve slammed into yet another wall with my thesis. I’m now at the end of the first phase of my data collection process, wherein I now have to look up individual articles *by hand* to see if they’re RCTs. It’s really boring and tedious, but I need to get off my ass and just do it. Luckily I had another monthly meeting with my mentor this week for another dose of fear-of-God. Hopefully I’ll push past this temporary obstruction to my progress and move on to more interesting data collection tasks.
Now: to movie talk!
Last week, I had the pleasure of re-watching “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” (1975). I was in high school the last time I saw it, and I thoroughly re-enjoyed it. However, given that I’m at a very different stage in my life and professional development now, I was struck by a theme in the film I hadn’t noticed before.
R. P. McMurphy (played by Jack Nicholson, of course) is a new transfer to an adult male inpatient psychiatric ward after being imprisoned, essentially, for a variety of illegal antisocial behaviors (but specifically, this time, for statutory rape). Nurse Ratched, played by Louise Fletcher, is the primary authority figure of the ward in which he is placed. While initially he attempts to ingratiate himself to her, McMurphy eventually turns against Ratched after realizing that his retention in the hospital is not subject to the same limitations as his incarceration. In other words, if he is successfully deemed insane after his evaluation at the hospital, he isn’t getting out when his original prison sentence is up—he’s getting out when he’s deemed sane again, which means he may *never* get out. Suddenly what McMurphy thought was essentially a vacation is in fact something much more sinister, and he’s pissed. As a result, things on the ward take a dramatic and ugly turn.
Ratched is a notorious bogeywoman in film history. She rules her ward with an iron fist, mercilessly emasculating (figuratively) and electro-shocking (literally) her patients with near-impunity. McMurphy is cast as a the rebellious antihero, raging against the castrating tyranny of Nurse Ratched with all the strength and cunning he has. Indeed, during the film’s climax, McMurphy nearly strangles her to death... to put her in her place, I suppose?
So the first time I saw this movie, I remember being totally on McMurphy’s side. As you’re supposed to be. He’s a resilient and stridently free spirit, damning the Man no matter what the consequences, refusing to be tamed. Except in this case, he’s damning the Woman, and I think that’s not a trivial detail. And here we are at the thing I didn’t notice in high school, but which struck me clear as day last week.
I get that “Cuckoo’s Nest” needs to be taken in context. The seventies were in many ways a high water mark in psychiatric institutions having the power to rob patients of their rights. Mental health professionals took a profoundly paternalistic view of their role in their clients' lives during that time. Moreover, with the war in Viet Nam coming to a close the year the film was released, after extremely vocal civilian protests, it’s hard to overlook the parallel of McMurphy’s resistance to the authority figures of the hospital. In addition to being a beautifully told and compelling story, this film is very much the product of its time.
However, it’s a product of that time in another way I now find troubling. Second-wave feminism was very much a part of the public discourse in the mid-1970s. The gender dynamics in this movie seem to be a clear reflection of '70's societal conflict over women asserting their power. McMurphy is supposed to be the hero in this film, but instead he now seems to be to be the embodiment of a frightening, violent backlash to feminine agency. So assured is he of his own entitlement to masculine dominance that he nearly wrings the life out of Ratched in an attempt to reassert himself and correct the gendered power imbalance.
...Of course it’s not quite that simple. McMurphy attacks Ratched because he believes she drove the fragile Billy Bibbit (Brad Dourif) to suicide by threatening to tell his mother he slept with McMurphy’s lady friend/a prostitute. And in McMurphy’s defense, she does needle Billy’s immense fear of his mother pretty aggressively. But in *Ratched’s* defense, no one made McMurphy turn the hospital into bedlam (ha, psychiatric hospital humor) by dragging in whores and booze before his botched escape attempt. It doesn’t appear to dawn on him that he’s a bull in a very-fragile-mentally-ill-people-filled china shop, treating the men of the ward as if they only need a fishing trip and some rum to make them all better, until it’s far too late—and he copes with that murky awareness by nearly murdering Ratched instead of turning on himself. I would argue that it wouldn’t have been possible for Ratched to push Billy over the edge if McMurphy hadn’t forced him to that edge in the first place.
We’re supposed to be repelled by Ratched’s lack of emotionality and the extent of her control over the men in her ward. The film clearly seeks to deride her for being dispassionate (translation: frigid) and measured (translation: calculating, also frigid), when in fact, within reason, these are hallmarks of a seasoned and effective mental health professional. Acting as if you’re in complete control when you’re acutely aware that you’re not ranks surprisingly high in the list of skills you need to survive as a mental health practitioner in any setting, let alone in a hospital, where you are direly outnumbered by possibly dangerous patients. I can attest to that from experience. Ratched’s steely composure is therefore, given her context, a virtue.
There’s a scene in the movie that sealed this Ratched reinterpretation for me. After hijacking a hospital bus filled with other patients and taking them fishing on a doctor’s boat, McMurphy’s status at the facility is assessed by a panel of (male) doctors. Ultimately, the doctors defer to Ratched in deciding where to place the deviant and possibly dangerous patient. Surrounded by men who want to return McMurphy to prison or transfer him to another ward, she instead advocates for retaining him in her ward. She argues against shuttling him to some other facility, taking a stand against passing the McMurphy buck down the line to yet another hospital that will probably only do the same—a typical pattern with difficult-to-treat patients to this day. Instead, she states she wants to keep him in her ward because she thinks she can get through to him.
We’re probably supposed to see that as a sinister ploy to keep McMurphy in her clutches, presumably for the purposes of breaking his beautiful, free spirit. And to be fair, that *is* essentially what happens. Thing is, the dude’s a psychopath, in the formal DSM-IV Antisocial Personality Disorder sense of the word. In his intake with the head psychiatrist at the hospital and in subsequent discussions of what to do with him, we learn that McMurphy has a long history of law-breaking and incarceration. He’s had sex with a minor on at least one occasion. He’s violent and manipulative. He’s charming and charismatic (classic hallmarks of a psychopath), which makes him appealing even to me, but he is *not* a hero. Ratched, on the other hand, is a resolute and skillful professional woman, doing a difficult job and doing it quite well.
...And she’s supposed to be the villain.
A big part of me still loves McMurphy and mourns what becomes of him. But more than that, I’m struck by the tragedy of the villification of this brave and strong professional woman.
Even with that taken into account, I give the film a 5. I mean come on. It's "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" for christsakes.
And with that... time to go.
<3
Friday, September 3, 2010
Summer’s Over: Time to Re-enter “Zombieland”!
Why hello!
I’ve unacceptably taken a month-long hiatus from my little entries, in spite of watching a bunch of movies I wanted to write about. I’m going to try to crank out a few before the school year picks up speed. This was my first week back, so time is of the essence.
Before getting to today’s movie, though, I’m proud to say that I adhered to my commitment to specify a search strategy and a set of selection criteria within a week of my last posting. This was facilitated by a very productive telephone meeting with my mentor, where these were finalized. I felt very satisfied with myself and my efforts. I subsequently started working on a rough draft of my thesis proposal, and promptly hit an emotional roadblock to working on my thesis that has been difficult, as always, to overcome. It’s partly the result of having a very busy summer, with little time at where-I-live home. I find it really difficult to work when I’m somewhere unfamiliar/I don’t live, especially when I’ve got that weird vacation guilt where the experience feels wasted on me if I work while I should be having fun. Or something. I also keep experiencing this uncomfortable self-doubt where it seems like I can’t possibly really be ready to get started collecting data or writing a final draft of my proposal, because there’s no way I really actually know what I’m doing, because I’ve never had to write a thesis before. Even though, at the end of the day, these things really aren’t all that complicated.
Clearly I need to let that feeling go, and simply get off my ass and get this shit done.
The lucky thing is that my mentor is really pretty special, and very well-suited to help me along. She’s scheduled monthly meetings with all of her mentees, and we had one yesterday. After (jokingly yet appropriately) shaming me for not having collected any data yet, she told me to start emailing her every Sunday to give her thesis updates. This is precisely the kind of accountability I need. Especially now that I’m going to be (finally) sitting in the where-I-live city for a little while, I’m in a place to get work done if I just decide to be motivated. The tiny tinge of fear-of-mentor looming at the end of every week is hopefully the little additional push that will help me actually be productive.
So now I just need to have something to tell her in three days...
Terrifyingly huge graduate school requirements aside, I watched a pretty sweet movie with my little brother while I was where-I-grew-up home again a few weeks ago. Based on my enduring love of zombie movies, he recommended “Zombieland” (2009). It was FABULOUS.
I admit that it’s perhaps a little strange that I love zombie movies as much as I do. I generally hate gore, and routinely cover my eyes during anything too icky. As monsters go, I used to love the cool, sexy intellectualism of vampires above all else—and, “Twilight” saga aside, I still do love them. (“Let the Right One In” (2008) may be one of the most exciting movies I’ve seen in the last few years, for example.) Zombies, on the other hand, are messy, inelegant, and brutish. So what’s the allure?
In a way unlike every other horror subgenre, zombie movies are ultimately examinations of some of the most interesting and problematic questions of human life. They pit humanity’s violent, animal nature against its virtues in a fight to the death. Are we fundamentally beastly creatures driven foremost by our basest hungers, or are we something better than that, even in the most horrifying of circumstances? Vampires gain a superhumanness through their immortality, while other monsters (like werewolves) literally become or are something non-human. Zombies are still darkly, frighteningly human. In this way, they hold a disconcerting mirror to the most gruesome aspects of human nature.
And then, oftentimes, they’re also funny as shit (see also: “Shaun of the Dead” (2004)). Because zombies lack dignity, they’re perfect fodder for comedy. “Zombieland” is a very enjoyable combination of these two aspects of the genre.
So basically, as with all zombie movies I’ve seen, “Zombieland” opens post-zombie apocalypse, where only a few non-zombie humans survive. Jesse Eisenberg stars as Columbus, a gangly, awkward kid who at the outset acknowledges the unlikeliness of his survival. The secret to his success? Lots and lots of rules. Wear a seatbelt. Limber up before entering possible zombie territory. You get the idea. As if zombies weren’t enough, the rules introduce yet another thing that can make horror movies in general really fun: rules, and their breaking. It is within the structure of this pseudo-controlled environment that crazy things happen.
Eisenberg’s character takes his name from the fact that he’s attempting to get to Columbus, Ohio in the hopes of finding his parents. The three characters rounding out the main cast are also named for their destinations as a way of purposely depersonalizing their relationships with each other. In a world where nothing can be taken for granted and “Don’t be a hero” is the most important rule of all, establishing any kind of intimacy with strangers has been deemed decidedly foolhardy.
Woody Harrelson plays Tallahassee, the first non-zombie Columbus encounters in his trek. I haven’t seen Harrelson in much of anything, so he wasn’t really on my radar. This is apparently a huge tragedy. Maybe he’s just really well-suited to badassery, but he was very fun to watch in “Zombieland”.
Further along the way, Columbus and Tallahassee encounter sisters Wichita (Emma Stone) and Little Rock (a surprisingly cast and absolutely delightful Abigail Breslin). The girls dupe the boys out of their weapons and car and ditch them, only to dupe them a second time when Columbus and Tallahassee catch up to them farther down the highway. As you might expect, hilarity/awesomeness ensues. The four eventually unwittingly team up, and decide on a common destination: an amusement park that the girls believe is the only zombie-free place left on Earth.
So... Initially I told my brother I was going to give this movie a 5. I really enjoyed it (and especially enjoyed watching it with him). I laughed out loud many times. Even *I* could watch the splashy, ridiculous gore, so I didn’t feel on edge the way I sometimes due in more brutal or realistic zombie movies. Bill Murray has an *amazing* cameo that delightfully pushes the movie briefly over the edge into zany absurdity. It’s delicious (as if I needed another argument for loving him). The characters are nuanced, the story is interesting (if not wholly airtight—they never refuel their Hummer during their cross-country roadtrip, for example). “Zombieland” is brisk, fresh, true romping fun.
...But the more I thought about it, I’ve had to rethink my initial 5 decision. I’ve reduced my rating to a 4.5 (sorry Booboo), and here’s why: the Selena of “28 Days Later” (2002) standard.
I mentioned in an earlier post that I love the heroes in “Night of the Living Dead” (1968) and “28 Days Later” because of their radically normalizing portrayal of race. In the latter film, I was referring to the character of Selena. I love her.
Maybe it’s a weird thing to say because she appears in a zombie movie, but Selena is one of the most perfect modern feminist characters I’ve ever seen in film. She is an embodiment of a multidimensional model of feminine power. With her short-shorn hair and unforgiving machete, she is unflinchingly self-reliant and as effective (if not more so) at dispatching zombies as any male character in the movie. However, her backpack stuffed with food and pharmaceuticals enables Selena to reveal a different kind of power: when she and a younger girl, Hannah, face rape by a voracious band of soldiers, she feeds the girl a strong dose of painkillers. Hannah asks, “Are you trying to kill me?” Selena replies, “No, sweetheart. I’m trying to make you not care.” In these ways, she exercises masculine and feminine, aggressive and protective power. She is a rejection of stereotypically weak and defenseless femininity without wholly giving herself over to the male paradigm of you’re-only-as-strong-as-the-shit-you-can-destroy. Furthermore—and here’s the real modern feminist clincher, in my opinion—she is not so militantly self-sufficient that she robs herself of the ability to love others. By falling in love with Jim and protecting Hannah, she embodies a breed of feminist who knows that no human is an island, and that it is ultimately in building partnerships with others—friends, lovers, colleagues, whoever—that people are most likely to thrive.
Really, that is the ultimate thesis of any zombie movie: humankind’s better nature is derived from our ability to love and protect each other, even when the world as we know it is over. Losing that ability means losing our very souls.
So it is to Selena that I compare other heroines, especially in zombie movies... And Wichita and Little Rock are pretty badass, but they just don’t completely pass the test. While “Zombieland”, too, eventually supports the aforementioned zombie movie thesis when Wichita shares her real name with Columbus, facing the perils of intimacy, I’m put off by the girls’ reliance on more stereotypically feminine strategies of survival. They play the weak and imperiled damsels in distress, only to screw Columbus and Tallahassee over. It’s effective and perhaps more feasible for two relatively young girls, but I just find emotional manipulation kind of unsavory. It makes the girls harder to root for, because they lack integrity. Yes, of course, most people would probably resort to worse if their survival was on the line, but I have such a soft spot for the startling, genuine courage of characters like Selena that it’s hard to settle comfortably for less.
So that’s were that .5 went.
On that note, goodnight!
<3
I’ve unacceptably taken a month-long hiatus from my little entries, in spite of watching a bunch of movies I wanted to write about. I’m going to try to crank out a few before the school year picks up speed. This was my first week back, so time is of the essence.
Before getting to today’s movie, though, I’m proud to say that I adhered to my commitment to specify a search strategy and a set of selection criteria within a week of my last posting. This was facilitated by a very productive telephone meeting with my mentor, where these were finalized. I felt very satisfied with myself and my efforts. I subsequently started working on a rough draft of my thesis proposal, and promptly hit an emotional roadblock to working on my thesis that has been difficult, as always, to overcome. It’s partly the result of having a very busy summer, with little time at where-I-live home. I find it really difficult to work when I’m somewhere unfamiliar/I don’t live, especially when I’ve got that weird vacation guilt where the experience feels wasted on me if I work while I should be having fun. Or something. I also keep experiencing this uncomfortable self-doubt where it seems like I can’t possibly really be ready to get started collecting data or writing a final draft of my proposal, because there’s no way I really actually know what I’m doing, because I’ve never had to write a thesis before. Even though, at the end of the day, these things really aren’t all that complicated.
Clearly I need to let that feeling go, and simply get off my ass and get this shit done.
The lucky thing is that my mentor is really pretty special, and very well-suited to help me along. She’s scheduled monthly meetings with all of her mentees, and we had one yesterday. After (jokingly yet appropriately) shaming me for not having collected any data yet, she told me to start emailing her every Sunday to give her thesis updates. This is precisely the kind of accountability I need. Especially now that I’m going to be (finally) sitting in the where-I-live city for a little while, I’m in a place to get work done if I just decide to be motivated. The tiny tinge of fear-of-mentor looming at the end of every week is hopefully the little additional push that will help me actually be productive.
So now I just need to have something to tell her in three days...
Terrifyingly huge graduate school requirements aside, I watched a pretty sweet movie with my little brother while I was where-I-grew-up home again a few weeks ago. Based on my enduring love of zombie movies, he recommended “Zombieland” (2009). It was FABULOUS.
I admit that it’s perhaps a little strange that I love zombie movies as much as I do. I generally hate gore, and routinely cover my eyes during anything too icky. As monsters go, I used to love the cool, sexy intellectualism of vampires above all else—and, “Twilight” saga aside, I still do love them. (“Let the Right One In” (2008) may be one of the most exciting movies I’ve seen in the last few years, for example.) Zombies, on the other hand, are messy, inelegant, and brutish. So what’s the allure?
In a way unlike every other horror subgenre, zombie movies are ultimately examinations of some of the most interesting and problematic questions of human life. They pit humanity’s violent, animal nature against its virtues in a fight to the death. Are we fundamentally beastly creatures driven foremost by our basest hungers, or are we something better than that, even in the most horrifying of circumstances? Vampires gain a superhumanness through their immortality, while other monsters (like werewolves) literally become or are something non-human. Zombies are still darkly, frighteningly human. In this way, they hold a disconcerting mirror to the most gruesome aspects of human nature.
And then, oftentimes, they’re also funny as shit (see also: “Shaun of the Dead” (2004)). Because zombies lack dignity, they’re perfect fodder for comedy. “Zombieland” is a very enjoyable combination of these two aspects of the genre.
So basically, as with all zombie movies I’ve seen, “Zombieland” opens post-zombie apocalypse, where only a few non-zombie humans survive. Jesse Eisenberg stars as Columbus, a gangly, awkward kid who at the outset acknowledges the unlikeliness of his survival. The secret to his success? Lots and lots of rules. Wear a seatbelt. Limber up before entering possible zombie territory. You get the idea. As if zombies weren’t enough, the rules introduce yet another thing that can make horror movies in general really fun: rules, and their breaking. It is within the structure of this pseudo-controlled environment that crazy things happen.
Eisenberg’s character takes his name from the fact that he’s attempting to get to Columbus, Ohio in the hopes of finding his parents. The three characters rounding out the main cast are also named for their destinations as a way of purposely depersonalizing their relationships with each other. In a world where nothing can be taken for granted and “Don’t be a hero” is the most important rule of all, establishing any kind of intimacy with strangers has been deemed decidedly foolhardy.
Woody Harrelson plays Tallahassee, the first non-zombie Columbus encounters in his trek. I haven’t seen Harrelson in much of anything, so he wasn’t really on my radar. This is apparently a huge tragedy. Maybe he’s just really well-suited to badassery, but he was very fun to watch in “Zombieland”.
Further along the way, Columbus and Tallahassee encounter sisters Wichita (Emma Stone) and Little Rock (a surprisingly cast and absolutely delightful Abigail Breslin). The girls dupe the boys out of their weapons and car and ditch them, only to dupe them a second time when Columbus and Tallahassee catch up to them farther down the highway. As you might expect, hilarity/awesomeness ensues. The four eventually unwittingly team up, and decide on a common destination: an amusement park that the girls believe is the only zombie-free place left on Earth.
So... Initially I told my brother I was going to give this movie a 5. I really enjoyed it (and especially enjoyed watching it with him). I laughed out loud many times. Even *I* could watch the splashy, ridiculous gore, so I didn’t feel on edge the way I sometimes due in more brutal or realistic zombie movies. Bill Murray has an *amazing* cameo that delightfully pushes the movie briefly over the edge into zany absurdity. It’s delicious (as if I needed another argument for loving him). The characters are nuanced, the story is interesting (if not wholly airtight—they never refuel their Hummer during their cross-country roadtrip, for example). “Zombieland” is brisk, fresh, true romping fun.
...But the more I thought about it, I’ve had to rethink my initial 5 decision. I’ve reduced my rating to a 4.5 (sorry Booboo), and here’s why: the Selena of “28 Days Later” (2002) standard.
I mentioned in an earlier post that I love the heroes in “Night of the Living Dead” (1968) and “28 Days Later” because of their radically normalizing portrayal of race. In the latter film, I was referring to the character of Selena. I love her.
Maybe it’s a weird thing to say because she appears in a zombie movie, but Selena is one of the most perfect modern feminist characters I’ve ever seen in film. She is an embodiment of a multidimensional model of feminine power. With her short-shorn hair and unforgiving machete, she is unflinchingly self-reliant and as effective (if not more so) at dispatching zombies as any male character in the movie. However, her backpack stuffed with food and pharmaceuticals enables Selena to reveal a different kind of power: when she and a younger girl, Hannah, face rape by a voracious band of soldiers, she feeds the girl a strong dose of painkillers. Hannah asks, “Are you trying to kill me?” Selena replies, “No, sweetheart. I’m trying to make you not care.” In these ways, she exercises masculine and feminine, aggressive and protective power. She is a rejection of stereotypically weak and defenseless femininity without wholly giving herself over to the male paradigm of you’re-only-as-strong-as-the-shit-you-can-destroy. Furthermore—and here’s the real modern feminist clincher, in my opinion—she is not so militantly self-sufficient that she robs herself of the ability to love others. By falling in love with Jim and protecting Hannah, she embodies a breed of feminist who knows that no human is an island, and that it is ultimately in building partnerships with others—friends, lovers, colleagues, whoever—that people are most likely to thrive.
Really, that is the ultimate thesis of any zombie movie: humankind’s better nature is derived from our ability to love and protect each other, even when the world as we know it is over. Losing that ability means losing our very souls.
So it is to Selena that I compare other heroines, especially in zombie movies... And Wichita and Little Rock are pretty badass, but they just don’t completely pass the test. While “Zombieland”, too, eventually supports the aforementioned zombie movie thesis when Wichita shares her real name with Columbus, facing the perils of intimacy, I’m put off by the girls’ reliance on more stereotypically feminine strategies of survival. They play the weak and imperiled damsels in distress, only to screw Columbus and Tallahassee over. It’s effective and perhaps more feasible for two relatively young girls, but I just find emotional manipulation kind of unsavory. It makes the girls harder to root for, because they lack integrity. Yes, of course, most people would probably resort to worse if their survival was on the line, but I have such a soft spot for the startling, genuine courage of characters like Selena that it’s hard to settle comfortably for less.
So that’s were that .5 went.
On that note, goodnight!
<3
Saturday, July 31, 2010
All Seven of “The Kids are All Right” with My Lecture on Schizophrenia
Hi guys.
So it’s been a busy psychological week! For my fellowship, I’ve begun the entry of a never-ending set of data I helped collect in Viet Nam in May. My fellowship advisor has given me and my data entering partner/classmate unheard-of permission to take data home to work on it, which is dreamy. Data entry may not be terribly glamorous, but data entry *from home* is a pretty amazing luxury.
Much more exciting: at the very generous, gracious invitation of one of my professors, I delivered a lecture in schizophrenia for his undergraduate Abnormal Psychology class on Wednesday. There were seven whole students in attendance! It was SWEET.
Seriously though. It was pretty awesome. I’ve wanted to teach psychology for a long time, and this is the first time I’ve taught a real live class. Even if I didn’t have the most abundant audience in the universe, it was really fun preparing and delivering a lecture—especially about such a dramatic, interesting topic. Because schizophrenia is one of the oldest recognized mental illnesses, there’s more extensive research on it than many other disorders; I got to talk about brain changes in schizophrenic patients, heritability studies, childhood-onset schizophrenia, and family dynamics that lead to increased relapse rates. It was really cool!
The BEST part of the lecture was that PEOPLE ASKED QUESTIONS. Not only did they ask questions, but those questions met three crucial parameters which make for a fabulous teaching experience:
1) Their questions indicated they were listening to the words coming out of my mouth,
2) Not only that, but their questions indicated that they were *curious* about the topic at hand, and
3) I actually knew how to answer their questions!!
Me teaching FTW!!
As if that weren’t enough, I also think I’ve actually had a mini-breakthrough on my master’s. I’ve been feeling really intimidated by the prospect of writing my thesis proposal. However, I recently discovered/remembered/finally let it really sink into my brain that all my proposal has to be is essentially the introduction and methods portion of the research article my thesis will eventually be. So basically I have to write a miniature literature review (based on literature I’ve already read) and specify my selection criteria for the research that will be used in my meta-analysis. This will still take a decent amount of work, but having a concrete idea of what’s expected to me—and feeling like I know how to complete it—is a huge relief. I’ve already written a very rough draft of the introduction, and plan to finalize my selection criteria in the next week or two.
Hold me to that, please.
So I’m where-I-grew-up home again to celebrate my little sister’s birthday. Last night I decided to go see a movie, since I rarely go to theaters at where-I-live-now home, where movie tickets are way more expensive and theaters are a bigger pain to get to, since I don’t have a car. Based on many positive reviews and my love of its three headliners, I decided to see “The Kids are All Right” (2010). It was a marvelous decision.
“The Kids are All Right” tells the story of a lesbian married couple, Jules (played by Julianne Moore) and Nic (Annette Benning) and their two children, Joni and Laser (Mia Wasikowska and Josh Hutcherson). Laser becomes interested in meeting Paul (Mark Ruffalo), the man who served as his and his sister’s anonymous sperm donor. He and Joni meet him, and hilarity/drama ensues.
This is a film of startling, vivid intimacy—not just in terms of the closeness with which it considers its characters, but also in terms of catching moments of intimacy that feel breathtakingly, painfully real. There is a rare reality in the fleeting gestures of affection between Nic and Jules that makes you feel the weight and temperature of a hand, the gentleness of the stroke of another’s hair, the firmness of a kiss and embrace. The mothers speak to their children and each other in what at times seems like their own personal dialect, with carefully crafted phrasing and selected words meant to serve as scaffolding for the emotional environment they’ve constructed, instilling love, open-heartedness, and tolerance even as they attempt to negotiate conflict. These moments and details stand in contrast to the myriad little snips and chafings of their long-standing marriage, proof that no two people could ever be perfectly suited to a lifelong partnership. Yet the two kinds of moments reinforce each other. When late in the film Jules proclaims, “Marriage is hard!”, she summarizes what the movie has already artfully laid before its audience: marriage is both beautiful and (nearly) impossible. Without being pathologizing or pollyannaish, “The Kids are All Right” shows us a union that neither strains toward “perfection” nor wallows overly in its shortcomings. Through portraying a partnership between two imperfect people who nevertheless love each other very much, the movie serves as a revisualization of what an ideal marriage looks like. Life is long, marriage is hard, and for a partnership to survive its members must remain mindful of and ready to forgive themselves and each other.
To be fair, part of the reason this movie cuts so close to me is that I saw little glimpses of my life in it. I saw my brother in some of Laser's moments, and saw my could-have-been/alternate universe life at the beautifully filmed college that looked to me so much like Stanford (actually Occidental, I believe), which I applied to and my father attended. Not to mention that as a child of divorce, any examination of the complexities and perils of marriage—particularly one that attempts to explain how, in spite of adversity, a marriage can last—is bound to hold my attention. I don’t know how generalizable my experience of the film was, but for me it felt intensely, personally relevant.
The acting in this movie is pretty delightful. Something about the joint acting effort of Julianne Moore (who I always love) and Annette Bening is completely intoxicating to watch. Their beautiful faces (Bening’s is refreshingly lined and yet still radiant) are infinitely communicative, flickering with emotion, processing thoughts, choosing whether to react or stay silent. I’ve seen relatively little of Mark Ruffalo, but something about his performance in Blindness (2008) made him seem instantly likable. He has a genuinity I find very appealing, and it didn’t fail here. Josh Hutcherson does emotionally muted boy very convincingly. He was very fun to watch.
All that said, I think the biggest acting surprise of the movie was Mia Wasikowska. I was almost to the end of the movie before I realized that she was Alice in Tim Burton’s horrendous remake/sequel of “Alice in Wonderland” (2010), and had an experience much like the first time I saw Natalie Portman in something after the new “Star Wars” movies. That experience was something like: “Wow, she’s actually not bad!” and then: “George Lucas/Tim Burton ruins EVERYTHING.” I don’t mean to unduly compare Wasikowska to Portman (who I really think is one of the best modern female actors), but you get the idea: put her in a decent movie and don’t make her talk in a stupid, fake-sounding accent, and magically the audience can see that she’s actually quite talented.
I know I’m probably not making many friends by criticizing Burton, but seriously, I could not be more over that guy. We get it. You're dark and weird. Can we move on now? Can we evolve already?
It’s not enough that his remake of “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory” (original 1971, remake 2005) was an abomination, an utter cinematic heresy against Gene Wilder and all that is good in children’s film. It’s not enough that he’s stolen Johnny Depp from us over and over again, forcing Depp into complicity in his assault on cherished characters from classic films. No. He has to go on to make an “Alice in Wonderland” that is so utterly bored with itself it makes a mockery of its own name. It’s “Alice in WONDERland”. Where in God’s name was the wonder?? When does this cinematic barbarism stop??
Thank goodness Mia got the chance to act in something else, because otherwise I would’ve just assumed she sucked, just like I once foolishly thought of Natalie. Tim Burton is foiled!
Anyway. I came out of the movie into a gorgeous summer storm, with fat drops of rain, hot gusting wind, and lightning flashing behind the mountains I could see from the escalator exiting the theater. With the exception of my family and a very few friends, these storms are what I miss most about home. Well... that and the Mexican food. In any event, it made for a really nice after-film digestif.
All that being said, the movie (perhaps fittingly?) wasn’t perfect. Infidelity is such a commonly-exploited mechanism for stressing a marriage in film (or any other storytelling medium really) that it can feel unimaginative. This particular attitude of mine is probably the result of watching too many Woody Allen* films, and to be fair to this particular movie, it certainly contains a pretty inventive iteration of adultery. Beyond that, I also wasn’t completely satisfied by the film’s conclusion, since it didn’t satisfyingly resolve (or leave unresolved) its major conflicts. What happens to Paul? What happens to Nic and Jules? While I certainly buy into the whole “life isn’t about the destination; it’s about the journey” thing—which seems somewhat to be the mentality of the movie—that just doesn’t really work in cinema.
But the journey *is* pretty lovely. I gave the movie a 4.
And with that, I’ll sign off. See you soon!
<3
* = Woody Allen has a history of sexually exploiting women and of being a hand-wringing apologist in support of men who sexually exploit women. I no longer support his work.
So it’s been a busy psychological week! For my fellowship, I’ve begun the entry of a never-ending set of data I helped collect in Viet Nam in May. My fellowship advisor has given me and my data entering partner/classmate unheard-of permission to take data home to work on it, which is dreamy. Data entry may not be terribly glamorous, but data entry *from home* is a pretty amazing luxury.
Much more exciting: at the very generous, gracious invitation of one of my professors, I delivered a lecture in schizophrenia for his undergraduate Abnormal Psychology class on Wednesday. There were seven whole students in attendance! It was SWEET.
Seriously though. It was pretty awesome. I’ve wanted to teach psychology for a long time, and this is the first time I’ve taught a real live class. Even if I didn’t have the most abundant audience in the universe, it was really fun preparing and delivering a lecture—especially about such a dramatic, interesting topic. Because schizophrenia is one of the oldest recognized mental illnesses, there’s more extensive research on it than many other disorders; I got to talk about brain changes in schizophrenic patients, heritability studies, childhood-onset schizophrenia, and family dynamics that lead to increased relapse rates. It was really cool!
The BEST part of the lecture was that PEOPLE ASKED QUESTIONS. Not only did they ask questions, but those questions met three crucial parameters which make for a fabulous teaching experience:
1) Their questions indicated they were listening to the words coming out of my mouth,
2) Not only that, but their questions indicated that they were *curious* about the topic at hand, and
3) I actually knew how to answer their questions!!
Me teaching FTW!!
As if that weren’t enough, I also think I’ve actually had a mini-breakthrough on my master’s. I’ve been feeling really intimidated by the prospect of writing my thesis proposal. However, I recently discovered/remembered/finally let it really sink into my brain that all my proposal has to be is essentially the introduction and methods portion of the research article my thesis will eventually be. So basically I have to write a miniature literature review (based on literature I’ve already read) and specify my selection criteria for the research that will be used in my meta-analysis. This will still take a decent amount of work, but having a concrete idea of what’s expected to me—and feeling like I know how to complete it—is a huge relief. I’ve already written a very rough draft of the introduction, and plan to finalize my selection criteria in the next week or two.
Hold me to that, please.
So I’m where-I-grew-up home again to celebrate my little sister’s birthday. Last night I decided to go see a movie, since I rarely go to theaters at where-I-live-now home, where movie tickets are way more expensive and theaters are a bigger pain to get to, since I don’t have a car. Based on many positive reviews and my love of its three headliners, I decided to see “The Kids are All Right” (2010). It was a marvelous decision.
“The Kids are All Right” tells the story of a lesbian married couple, Jules (played by Julianne Moore) and Nic (Annette Benning) and their two children, Joni and Laser (Mia Wasikowska and Josh Hutcherson). Laser becomes interested in meeting Paul (Mark Ruffalo), the man who served as his and his sister’s anonymous sperm donor. He and Joni meet him, and hilarity/drama ensues.
This is a film of startling, vivid intimacy—not just in terms of the closeness with which it considers its characters, but also in terms of catching moments of intimacy that feel breathtakingly, painfully real. There is a rare reality in the fleeting gestures of affection between Nic and Jules that makes you feel the weight and temperature of a hand, the gentleness of the stroke of another’s hair, the firmness of a kiss and embrace. The mothers speak to their children and each other in what at times seems like their own personal dialect, with carefully crafted phrasing and selected words meant to serve as scaffolding for the emotional environment they’ve constructed, instilling love, open-heartedness, and tolerance even as they attempt to negotiate conflict. These moments and details stand in contrast to the myriad little snips and chafings of their long-standing marriage, proof that no two people could ever be perfectly suited to a lifelong partnership. Yet the two kinds of moments reinforce each other. When late in the film Jules proclaims, “Marriage is hard!”, she summarizes what the movie has already artfully laid before its audience: marriage is both beautiful and (nearly) impossible. Without being pathologizing or pollyannaish, “The Kids are All Right” shows us a union that neither strains toward “perfection” nor wallows overly in its shortcomings. Through portraying a partnership between two imperfect people who nevertheless love each other very much, the movie serves as a revisualization of what an ideal marriage looks like. Life is long, marriage is hard, and for a partnership to survive its members must remain mindful of and ready to forgive themselves and each other.
To be fair, part of the reason this movie cuts so close to me is that I saw little glimpses of my life in it. I saw my brother in some of Laser's moments, and saw my could-have-been/alternate universe life at the beautifully filmed college that looked to me so much like Stanford (actually Occidental, I believe), which I applied to and my father attended. Not to mention that as a child of divorce, any examination of the complexities and perils of marriage—particularly one that attempts to explain how, in spite of adversity, a marriage can last—is bound to hold my attention. I don’t know how generalizable my experience of the film was, but for me it felt intensely, personally relevant.
The acting in this movie is pretty delightful. Something about the joint acting effort of Julianne Moore (who I always love) and Annette Bening is completely intoxicating to watch. Their beautiful faces (Bening’s is refreshingly lined and yet still radiant) are infinitely communicative, flickering with emotion, processing thoughts, choosing whether to react or stay silent. I’ve seen relatively little of Mark Ruffalo, but something about his performance in Blindness (2008) made him seem instantly likable. He has a genuinity I find very appealing, and it didn’t fail here. Josh Hutcherson does emotionally muted boy very convincingly. He was very fun to watch.
All that said, I think the biggest acting surprise of the movie was Mia Wasikowska. I was almost to the end of the movie before I realized that she was Alice in Tim Burton’s horrendous remake/sequel of “Alice in Wonderland” (2010), and had an experience much like the first time I saw Natalie Portman in something after the new “Star Wars” movies. That experience was something like: “Wow, she’s actually not bad!” and then: “George Lucas/Tim Burton ruins EVERYTHING.” I don’t mean to unduly compare Wasikowska to Portman (who I really think is one of the best modern female actors), but you get the idea: put her in a decent movie and don’t make her talk in a stupid, fake-sounding accent, and magically the audience can see that she’s actually quite talented.
I know I’m probably not making many friends by criticizing Burton, but seriously, I could not be more over that guy. We get it. You're dark and weird. Can we move on now? Can we evolve already?
It’s not enough that his remake of “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory” (original 1971, remake 2005) was an abomination, an utter cinematic heresy against Gene Wilder and all that is good in children’s film. It’s not enough that he’s stolen Johnny Depp from us over and over again, forcing Depp into complicity in his assault on cherished characters from classic films. No. He has to go on to make an “Alice in Wonderland” that is so utterly bored with itself it makes a mockery of its own name. It’s “Alice in WONDERland”. Where in God’s name was the wonder?? When does this cinematic barbarism stop??
Thank goodness Mia got the chance to act in something else, because otherwise I would’ve just assumed she sucked, just like I once foolishly thought of Natalie. Tim Burton is foiled!
Anyway. I came out of the movie into a gorgeous summer storm, with fat drops of rain, hot gusting wind, and lightning flashing behind the mountains I could see from the escalator exiting the theater. With the exception of my family and a very few friends, these storms are what I miss most about home. Well... that and the Mexican food. In any event, it made for a really nice after-film digestif.
All that being said, the movie (perhaps fittingly?) wasn’t perfect. Infidelity is such a commonly-exploited mechanism for stressing a marriage in film (or any other storytelling medium really) that it can feel unimaginative. This particular attitude of mine is probably the result of watching too many Woody Allen* films, and to be fair to this particular movie, it certainly contains a pretty inventive iteration of adultery. Beyond that, I also wasn’t completely satisfied by the film’s conclusion, since it didn’t satisfyingly resolve (or leave unresolved) its major conflicts. What happens to Paul? What happens to Nic and Jules? While I certainly buy into the whole “life isn’t about the destination; it’s about the journey” thing—which seems somewhat to be the mentality of the movie—that just doesn’t really work in cinema.
But the journey *is* pretty lovely. I gave the movie a 4.
And with that, I’ll sign off. See you soon!
<3
* = Woody Allen has a history of sexually exploiting women and of being a hand-wringing apologist in support of men who sexually exploit women. I no longer support his work.
Friday, July 23, 2010
“Toy Story 3” vs. “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice”
Hello dahhhhhlinks.
Since this review is a double-header, it’ll be longer than usual. I don’t have a ton to report on the psych front, so that’s all the better. This post will be solely devoted to cinema.
For some time now, I’ve (perhaps insufferably) vowed to only let my (hypothetical) children watch Wallace and Gromit, Miyazaki, and Pixar movies. This commitment deliberately excludes all non-Pixar Disney movies from the (hypothetical) child viewing menu. When I attended a double-feature of “Toy Story 3” (2010) and “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” (2010) at a drive-in theater this week, I stood reaffirmed in my hard-assed non-Pixar anti-Disneyism.
In the grand Pixar tradition, “Toy Story 3” is both comfortably and surprisingly wonderful—comfortable in that it is fresh, lovely, genuine cinematic gold in a way all Pixar movies are, and surprising in that creating a third chapter of a winning franchise that stands up to the original is an almost unattainable feat, if you take the pool of other “Whatever Movie 3’s” as any indicator. The first “Toy Story” was released in 1995, with the second installment arriving in theaters in 1999. The 11 years it took to complete the current chapter in the “Toy Story” saga may seem excessive, but are actually commendable: It is clear that Pixar resisted the urge to rush to meet the significant demand for another installment of this highly successful series of films, and instead gave this movie its due time to percolate, develop, and be lovingly, beautifully animated with a finesse of which only they appear capable. This film is emotionally rich and skillfully told, and stands as proof that Pixar is truly peerless in the world of computer-generated animation. If they needed 11 years to make this fabulous movie, it was time well spent.
Another thing (of many) I love about Pixar is that they endeavor to make movies for families that are truly, uncompromisingly appropriate for children. Their films stand as a testament to the fact that thoughtful, funny, and interesting movies can be made for kids that are nevertheless thoroughly enjoyable for adults—no stupid, cliché, poorly-veiled scatological or sexual jokes necessary. Not only do I rarely find those nods to the grown-ups in the audience amusing, I also find them insulting to the intelligence of children. While most kids may not completely *understand* those jokes, I wouldn’t be surprised if a good number of them are aware that *something* was just said that was expected to go over their heads. Much like parents talking about “grown-up things” in front of their kids as if the younger people in the room didn’t have ears attached to their heads, I find this underestimation of the awareness of children obnoxious. It’s rude to make inside jokes during a conversation and not make sure everyone present understands what you’re talking about—why is it any better to do that to kids in a movie that’s supposed to be for them? In summary: I appreciate that Pixar lets kids’ movies be truly kids’ movies. If you want “adult” humor, go see a Will Ferrell movie. Or something.
(Caveat: I only very vaguely remember what appeared to be an attempt at an “ass” joke (as in alluding to the word “ass” by over-emphasizing the first syllable in a word like “assume” or maybe “ascot”), but I could have been imagining things. If I wasn’t, I think it’s appropriate to give them a pass(ssssssss.... heh) given Pixar’s otherwise exemplary record of child-friendliness.)
Spoiler alert (this paragraph only): One particular part of “Toy Story 3” I personally appreciated was also the scariest. After an almost-successfully escape from the horrifying Sunnyside Day Care, our little band of heroes is trapped in a garbage truck, deposited at the city dump, run down a conveyor belt of burnable trash, and dumped into an incinerator. After running, clinging, and climbing in a failed effort to elude their own destruction, Jessie turns to Buzz, desperate for a solution, and asks, “What do we do??” His response took my breath away. Wearily aware of their looming demise, he wordlessly reaches for her hand, accepting their destiny—and in so doing, showing her they don’t have to die scared or alone. Following his cue, everyone reaches out to their nearest friends to take their hands and meet their end together. This scene showed a depth of maturity and dignity in confronting death that I’ve seen far too rarely—a truly Zen moment. It may have been a bit heavy for a children’s movie, but that is precisely what made me so proud that it was included in the film. I think introducing people to the idea early in life that they can meet death consciously and calmly is a really beautiful act.
Finally, while I truly did love this movie, I was somewhat disappointed in one element of the story. I know the lion’s share of this post is seemingly devoted to cementing my reputation as an overly analytical hard-ass, but I can’t help it: my progressive eyeballs are ever-watching, ever-searching for something to be annoyed about. In this case, I was annoyed with the ridiculing of Ken. I thought the Ken-Barbie love story was hilarious and definitely giggled over the dress-up sequence (and subsequent interrogation sequence), but was still put off by how he was ridiculed by other characters for being non-gender stereotype conforming. To be clear, I don’t think the treatment of his character should be interpreted as gay-bashing. They paired him with a girl toy, so clearly Ken isn’t gay. It has, however, been posited that many hate crimes (and other less violent acts of discrimination) committed against gay people are overreactions to a victim’s refusal to conform to gender stereotypes, so in a way this is a gay rights issue. It’s also an issue within the gay community—as Dan Savage discusses with his usual fabulousness in the "Sissies" episode of This American Life. That’s not quite the situation in this case, though. I don’t like that a male character in a kids’ movie gets mocked simply because he likes clothes or has nice penmanship—in other words, because he acts “like a girl” (or, like “a girl’s toy”). Overly rigid gender roles don’t serve men *or* women, so I wish they would’ve lightened up a little on the girly-man bashing.
Other than that, “Toy Story 3” is brilliant. I gave it a 5.
Then I saw “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice”. God help me.
This movie embodies almost everything I utterly loathe about conventional Disney movies. In saying that, a little background in my rejection of the movies of my childhood:
Look, who am I kidding? I *loved* Disney movies when I was little. Loved them. I have very clear memories of waiting for “The Little Mermaid” (1989) to come out on VHS when I was in preschool, and pretending to be Ariel while swimming in our pool. I had Aladdin and Princess Jasmine Barbie dolls and played with them all the time. I’m not arguing that these movies don’t have powerful appeal for children. Even so, I know my daydreams about being swept away by some rescuing dude as a too-young-for-those-kinds-of-daydreams girl are largely the responsibility of those movies. There are some seriously damnable messages about romantic relationships and gender roles in Disney movies, and they’re so consistently present in most of them it makes me want to tear my hair out. For the most part, women in Disney movies have three settings: helpless underage waifs, menopausal evil stepmother/witch hybrids, or plump and dotty old fairy godmothers. The picture for men is better, but only slightly.
“The Little Mermaid” was roundly destroyed for me during a course on women in film in the spring of my senior year of college, when my professor asked us, “What’s the name of the movie?” When we responded, she queried, “And who kills Ursula?” When we warily answered correctly that Prince Eric killed the evil [menopausal] sea witch, she said, solemnly, “Right. The Little Mermaid is at the bottom of a swirling vortex, utterly powerless, and the prince kills the bad guy. Ariel isn’t even the hero in HER OWN MOVIE.”
I had nursed my feminist grudge against Disney for years before I took that class, but never had things snapped so clearly into focus. Ariel doesn’t kill Ursula. Not only does she not kill Ursula, but at an absurdly young 16, she “falls in love” with a guy she’s *never even met*, and subsequently makes a deal with Ursula whose outcome will be either that she runs away with Eric and *never sees her family again* (again, at age 16), OR she’ll become one of those little sad wormy things in Ursula’s hellish garden. And she TAKES THE DEAL. What kind of message does that send little girls? Whatever happened to Option C: give Ursula the finger, go home, and I don’t know, finish high school??
Furthermore: Ariel has to get Eric to fall in love with her without her *voice*. She must rely solely on her beauty to secure his affections. Snow White and Sleeping Beauty aren’t even *conscious* when their respective princes fall in love with them. Sleeping Beauty doesn’t even have a real name for Christsakes—she is literally defined by her appearance. These movies are populated by young women whose only apparent joy is getting douchebags who only care about their attractiveness to love them, and who are so roundly robbed of their agency that they can’t even talk or *move*, let alone rescue themselves. It’s nauseating, and it’s definitely not that kind of bullshit I want rolling around in the head of any daughter of mine—certainly not without a serious post-viewing debriefing.
These were precisely some of the issues at play in “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” that made me insane. Don’t worry, there were others too: as a result, I gave the movie a 1. Not just because of the theoretical/political/whatever issues I’ll elaborate upon shortly, but also because the lead character was annoying to listen to, the story was lame and predictable, and the dialogue was insultingly tired, cliché, and not-in-the-good-way groan-inducing. This is one of those movies where I sat watching and wondered, Seriously, if the screenwriter clearly didn’t care about this movie, why should the audience?
Beyond all that, I had my first facepalm of the movie when the main character ran into his love interest before beginning a physics lecture for a class she is enrolled in. After reacquainting themselves, she promptly admits that she doesn’t “get” physics—she loves MUSIC.
Sighhhhhhhhhhhhh
No offense meant to music, but as someone who knows blonde physics majors thank you very much, I could’ve done without the stereotypical hot blonde chick whose sweet little brain just doesn’t get along with SCIENCE and NUMBERS. To make matters worse, she inexplicably appears to fall for our “hero” in spite of his painful social maladroitness and creepy apparent obsession with her. She notices him stalkerishly peering at her through a cafe window while she hangs out with her friends, and instead of reaching for her mace, she *follows him to the dark roof of some rando skyscraper in spite of being afraid of heights*. Later in the film, she risks her life moving a satellite dish on another rando skyscraper’s roof to divert an evil beam of ectoplasm (or something less cool) that she *can’t even see* because the dude *swears* he can see it—all after something like three dates. And when he successfully vanquishes the [menopausal] supreme-o villainess, she TOTALLY agrees to be his girlfriend.
Sigh againnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn
There were also other varieties of irritating crap. First of all, the villains of the film are all either ethnic minorities with annoying accents or women, while the heroes are white American dudes (and not even cute ones). The film’s apparent racism reaches insane levels when the dude who mugs the hero and his blonde love interest is, of course, a Black guy, and even the poor student/secretary who gets Jedi mind tricked by one of the villains is Indian. It started to feel like the casting director selected racial and gender minorities for all of these roles without even *thinking* about how offensive and implicitly racist/sexist those decisions were. I found myself wondering if Disney is aware of WHAT YEAR THIS IS, and also wondered if we can SERIOUSLY please move past this race and gender stereotyping bullshit now?
It’s incredibly, potently tiresome. Especially displayed side-by-side with the much-needed nuance and substance of “Toy Story 3,” I honestly can’t wrap my head around the fact that the same company released these two films. In THE SAME YEAR. How is this possible?? Why does Disney persist in peddling this tired, cliché crap when they (or at least their subsidiary) is capable of repeatedly producing truly wonderful cinema of an entirely higher echelon AND making money while doing it?
According to Box Office Mojo, “Toy Story 3” made $110,307,189 on its opening weekend, immediately recouping more than half the cost of making the movie ($200 million). “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” made a pathetic-by-comparison $17,619,622 upon its opening, and cost $150 million to make (ouch). The total box office earnings to date for Pixar’s film have far exceeded the expenditures necessary to make it, which is not yet the case for “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice”. In fairness, latter film was released much more recently than its Pixar counterpart. Even so, I think it’s fair to project it will be nowhere near as profitable as “Toy Story 3”.
This begs the question: WHY does Disney make this shit?? We know they can make good movies. We know they can make film that is nourishing, smart, funny, progressive, and emotionally gratifying, that brings people together more than it drives them apart, that is free of saccharine, stereotypes, terrible dialogue and tired plots, and we know that the higher-quality films are *profitable*--arguably more so than the alternative garbage. Why then, in the name of all that is holy, are they subjecting us to this tripe when it doesn’t even benefit them, let alone their audience?
God only knows. But I’ll continue to vote with my box office purchases. And until something changes, so will my [hypothetical] kids.
<3
Since this review is a double-header, it’ll be longer than usual. I don’t have a ton to report on the psych front, so that’s all the better. This post will be solely devoted to cinema.
For some time now, I’ve (perhaps insufferably) vowed to only let my (hypothetical) children watch Wallace and Gromit, Miyazaki, and Pixar movies. This commitment deliberately excludes all non-Pixar Disney movies from the (hypothetical) child viewing menu. When I attended a double-feature of “Toy Story 3” (2010) and “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” (2010) at a drive-in theater this week, I stood reaffirmed in my hard-assed non-Pixar anti-Disneyism.
In the grand Pixar tradition, “Toy Story 3” is both comfortably and surprisingly wonderful—comfortable in that it is fresh, lovely, genuine cinematic gold in a way all Pixar movies are, and surprising in that creating a third chapter of a winning franchise that stands up to the original is an almost unattainable feat, if you take the pool of other “Whatever Movie 3’s” as any indicator. The first “Toy Story” was released in 1995, with the second installment arriving in theaters in 1999. The 11 years it took to complete the current chapter in the “Toy Story” saga may seem excessive, but are actually commendable: It is clear that Pixar resisted the urge to rush to meet the significant demand for another installment of this highly successful series of films, and instead gave this movie its due time to percolate, develop, and be lovingly, beautifully animated with a finesse of which only they appear capable. This film is emotionally rich and skillfully told, and stands as proof that Pixar is truly peerless in the world of computer-generated animation. If they needed 11 years to make this fabulous movie, it was time well spent.
Another thing (of many) I love about Pixar is that they endeavor to make movies for families that are truly, uncompromisingly appropriate for children. Their films stand as a testament to the fact that thoughtful, funny, and interesting movies can be made for kids that are nevertheless thoroughly enjoyable for adults—no stupid, cliché, poorly-veiled scatological or sexual jokes necessary. Not only do I rarely find those nods to the grown-ups in the audience amusing, I also find them insulting to the intelligence of children. While most kids may not completely *understand* those jokes, I wouldn’t be surprised if a good number of them are aware that *something* was just said that was expected to go over their heads. Much like parents talking about “grown-up things” in front of their kids as if the younger people in the room didn’t have ears attached to their heads, I find this underestimation of the awareness of children obnoxious. It’s rude to make inside jokes during a conversation and not make sure everyone present understands what you’re talking about—why is it any better to do that to kids in a movie that’s supposed to be for them? In summary: I appreciate that Pixar lets kids’ movies be truly kids’ movies. If you want “adult” humor, go see a Will Ferrell movie. Or something.
(Caveat: I only very vaguely remember what appeared to be an attempt at an “ass” joke (as in alluding to the word “ass” by over-emphasizing the first syllable in a word like “assume” or maybe “ascot”), but I could have been imagining things. If I wasn’t, I think it’s appropriate to give them a pass(ssssssss.... heh) given Pixar’s otherwise exemplary record of child-friendliness.)
Spoiler alert (this paragraph only): One particular part of “Toy Story 3” I personally appreciated was also the scariest. After an almost-successfully escape from the horrifying Sunnyside Day Care, our little band of heroes is trapped in a garbage truck, deposited at the city dump, run down a conveyor belt of burnable trash, and dumped into an incinerator. After running, clinging, and climbing in a failed effort to elude their own destruction, Jessie turns to Buzz, desperate for a solution, and asks, “What do we do??” His response took my breath away. Wearily aware of their looming demise, he wordlessly reaches for her hand, accepting their destiny—and in so doing, showing her they don’t have to die scared or alone. Following his cue, everyone reaches out to their nearest friends to take their hands and meet their end together. This scene showed a depth of maturity and dignity in confronting death that I’ve seen far too rarely—a truly Zen moment. It may have been a bit heavy for a children’s movie, but that is precisely what made me so proud that it was included in the film. I think introducing people to the idea early in life that they can meet death consciously and calmly is a really beautiful act.
Finally, while I truly did love this movie, I was somewhat disappointed in one element of the story. I know the lion’s share of this post is seemingly devoted to cementing my reputation as an overly analytical hard-ass, but I can’t help it: my progressive eyeballs are ever-watching, ever-searching for something to be annoyed about. In this case, I was annoyed with the ridiculing of Ken. I thought the Ken-Barbie love story was hilarious and definitely giggled over the dress-up sequence (and subsequent interrogation sequence), but was still put off by how he was ridiculed by other characters for being non-gender stereotype conforming. To be clear, I don’t think the treatment of his character should be interpreted as gay-bashing. They paired him with a girl toy, so clearly Ken isn’t gay. It has, however, been posited that many hate crimes (and other less violent acts of discrimination) committed against gay people are overreactions to a victim’s refusal to conform to gender stereotypes, so in a way this is a gay rights issue. It’s also an issue within the gay community—as Dan Savage discusses with his usual fabulousness in the "Sissies" episode of This American Life. That’s not quite the situation in this case, though. I don’t like that a male character in a kids’ movie gets mocked simply because he likes clothes or has nice penmanship—in other words, because he acts “like a girl” (or, like “a girl’s toy”). Overly rigid gender roles don’t serve men *or* women, so I wish they would’ve lightened up a little on the girly-man bashing.
Other than that, “Toy Story 3” is brilliant. I gave it a 5.
Then I saw “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice”. God help me.
This movie embodies almost everything I utterly loathe about conventional Disney movies. In saying that, a little background in my rejection of the movies of my childhood:
Look, who am I kidding? I *loved* Disney movies when I was little. Loved them. I have very clear memories of waiting for “The Little Mermaid” (1989) to come out on VHS when I was in preschool, and pretending to be Ariel while swimming in our pool. I had Aladdin and Princess Jasmine Barbie dolls and played with them all the time. I’m not arguing that these movies don’t have powerful appeal for children. Even so, I know my daydreams about being swept away by some rescuing dude as a too-young-for-those-kinds-of-daydreams girl are largely the responsibility of those movies. There are some seriously damnable messages about romantic relationships and gender roles in Disney movies, and they’re so consistently present in most of them it makes me want to tear my hair out. For the most part, women in Disney movies have three settings: helpless underage waifs, menopausal evil stepmother/witch hybrids, or plump and dotty old fairy godmothers. The picture for men is better, but only slightly.
“The Little Mermaid” was roundly destroyed for me during a course on women in film in the spring of my senior year of college, when my professor asked us, “What’s the name of the movie?” When we responded, she queried, “And who kills Ursula?” When we warily answered correctly that Prince Eric killed the evil [menopausal] sea witch, she said, solemnly, “Right. The Little Mermaid is at the bottom of a swirling vortex, utterly powerless, and the prince kills the bad guy. Ariel isn’t even the hero in HER OWN MOVIE.”
I had nursed my feminist grudge against Disney for years before I took that class, but never had things snapped so clearly into focus. Ariel doesn’t kill Ursula. Not only does she not kill Ursula, but at an absurdly young 16, she “falls in love” with a guy she’s *never even met*, and subsequently makes a deal with Ursula whose outcome will be either that she runs away with Eric and *never sees her family again* (again, at age 16), OR she’ll become one of those little sad wormy things in Ursula’s hellish garden. And she TAKES THE DEAL. What kind of message does that send little girls? Whatever happened to Option C: give Ursula the finger, go home, and I don’t know, finish high school??
Furthermore: Ariel has to get Eric to fall in love with her without her *voice*. She must rely solely on her beauty to secure his affections. Snow White and Sleeping Beauty aren’t even *conscious* when their respective princes fall in love with them. Sleeping Beauty doesn’t even have a real name for Christsakes—she is literally defined by her appearance. These movies are populated by young women whose only apparent joy is getting douchebags who only care about their attractiveness to love them, and who are so roundly robbed of their agency that they can’t even talk or *move*, let alone rescue themselves. It’s nauseating, and it’s definitely not that kind of bullshit I want rolling around in the head of any daughter of mine—certainly not without a serious post-viewing debriefing.
These were precisely some of the issues at play in “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” that made me insane. Don’t worry, there were others too: as a result, I gave the movie a 1. Not just because of the theoretical/political/whatever issues I’ll elaborate upon shortly, but also because the lead character was annoying to listen to, the story was lame and predictable, and the dialogue was insultingly tired, cliché, and not-in-the-good-way groan-inducing. This is one of those movies where I sat watching and wondered, Seriously, if the screenwriter clearly didn’t care about this movie, why should the audience?
Beyond all that, I had my first facepalm of the movie when the main character ran into his love interest before beginning a physics lecture for a class she is enrolled in. After reacquainting themselves, she promptly admits that she doesn’t “get” physics—she loves MUSIC.
Sighhhhhhhhhhhhh
No offense meant to music, but as someone who knows blonde physics majors thank you very much, I could’ve done without the stereotypical hot blonde chick whose sweet little brain just doesn’t get along with SCIENCE and NUMBERS. To make matters worse, she inexplicably appears to fall for our “hero” in spite of his painful social maladroitness and creepy apparent obsession with her. She notices him stalkerishly peering at her through a cafe window while she hangs out with her friends, and instead of reaching for her mace, she *follows him to the dark roof of some rando skyscraper in spite of being afraid of heights*. Later in the film, she risks her life moving a satellite dish on another rando skyscraper’s roof to divert an evil beam of ectoplasm (or something less cool) that she *can’t even see* because the dude *swears* he can see it—all after something like three dates. And when he successfully vanquishes the [menopausal] supreme-o villainess, she TOTALLY agrees to be his girlfriend.
Sigh againnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn
There were also other varieties of irritating crap. First of all, the villains of the film are all either ethnic minorities with annoying accents or women, while the heroes are white American dudes (and not even cute ones). The film’s apparent racism reaches insane levels when the dude who mugs the hero and his blonde love interest is, of course, a Black guy, and even the poor student/secretary who gets Jedi mind tricked by one of the villains is Indian. It started to feel like the casting director selected racial and gender minorities for all of these roles without even *thinking* about how offensive and implicitly racist/sexist those decisions were. I found myself wondering if Disney is aware of WHAT YEAR THIS IS, and also wondered if we can SERIOUSLY please move past this race and gender stereotyping bullshit now?
It’s incredibly, potently tiresome. Especially displayed side-by-side with the much-needed nuance and substance of “Toy Story 3,” I honestly can’t wrap my head around the fact that the same company released these two films. In THE SAME YEAR. How is this possible?? Why does Disney persist in peddling this tired, cliché crap when they (or at least their subsidiary) is capable of repeatedly producing truly wonderful cinema of an entirely higher echelon AND making money while doing it?
According to Box Office Mojo, “Toy Story 3” made $110,307,189 on its opening weekend, immediately recouping more than half the cost of making the movie ($200 million). “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” made a pathetic-by-comparison $17,619,622 upon its opening, and cost $150 million to make (ouch). The total box office earnings to date for Pixar’s film have far exceeded the expenditures necessary to make it, which is not yet the case for “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice”. In fairness, latter film was released much more recently than its Pixar counterpart. Even so, I think it’s fair to project it will be nowhere near as profitable as “Toy Story 3”.
This begs the question: WHY does Disney make this shit?? We know they can make good movies. We know they can make film that is nourishing, smart, funny, progressive, and emotionally gratifying, that brings people together more than it drives them apart, that is free of saccharine, stereotypes, terrible dialogue and tired plots, and we know that the higher-quality films are *profitable*--arguably more so than the alternative garbage. Why then, in the name of all that is holy, are they subjecting us to this tripe when it doesn’t even benefit them, let alone their audience?
God only knows. But I’ll continue to vote with my box office purchases. And until something changes, so will my [hypothetical] kids.
<3
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