"Lego Movie" and "Palm Springs" (Again)

Greetings,

I rewatched some of my favorite films from the last few years, and I'm very glad to say they've held up well!  Like any especially good movies, I in fact found that both films offer new nuances upon being rewatched and as I move into new phases of life.

While I've previously written about both "Lego Movie" and "Palm Springs", I haven't necessarily gone into detail about specific parts of the films I loved.  With the benefit of these recent re-viewings, I'd like to highlight specific scenes as each of these films near their conclusions.  There are therefore spoilers ahead, so do not proceed if you haven't seen these movies!

And also WHAT are you DOING?  Watch these movies!

The big twist of "Lego Movie" is that the story comprising the majority of the film is actually the imaginary play of 8-year-old Finn (played by Jadon Sand) in the elaborate--and real--Lego world constructed by his father (played by Will Ferrell).  The even bigger twist is that Finn's father shows up in his play as Lord Business, who is the controlling and dominating villain in Finn's imaginary world.  Lord Business is launching an evil campaign to permanently eradicate all creativity from the entirety of his Lego kingdom, which the Lego hero Emmet (played by Chris Pratt) and his friends are fighting to prevent.  This battle mirrors Finn's father's in-real-life refusal to let Finn play with the tantalizing and vast Lego world in their family's basement.

At the conclusion of the film, Finn's father asks what Finn would say to Lord Business.  Finn's message is delivered to Lord Business through Emmet: Lord Business, like any master builder, is important, powerful, and creative.  He can use his powers for good and to join with other creators, for the good of all.

This message of son to father rings so differently now, as a parent to ever-growing children, than it did before these new people were here.  First and foremost, it's a reminder that no matter how everyday or insignificant a parent might feel, to your child, you are everything.  It is a deeply poignant invitation to parents to step out of their rote roles as disciplinarians and to step away from their compulsive needs for order and control, and to instead embrace the new, different, and sometimes chaotic beauty of having children in your life.  Heartbreakingly, it's a testimony of how crushing it can be when parents are unable to see their child's creative and uninhibited energies as assets--precious, potentially fragile assets--rather than nuisances.  And as a counterpoint to that testimony, Finn's message is also an entreaty that to continue to liberate oneself through creativity and play--with all of the courage, commitment, and vulnerability that requires--is some of the best modeling a parent can offer a child.  Finally, and at its simplest yet possibly its most powerful, it's an invitation for Finn and his father to play together.

It's such a sweet and emotionally complex moment.  This movie is so good!

As for "Palm Springs", there is a crucial turning point in which Nyles (played by increasing favorite of the blog Andy Samberg) and Sarah (played by Cristin Milioti) debate whether to attempt Sarah's ploy to escape the infinite timeloop they've been trapped in together.  This time around, I was particularly struck by how their love for each other manifests in equal yet opposite stances in their discussion.  

Nyles’s love for Sarah contributes to and is informed by his fear of change, leading him to argue for staying in the timeloop.  They have established their relationship in this one neverending day, and he fears that reintroducing all the complexity that lies beyond that will tear them apart.  He sees their love as fragile, as if it's only capable of surviving in the bizarre microchronosphere they've stumbled into, and he wants to cling to it as long as he can.

On the other hand, Sarah’s love for Nyles contributes to her newfound hope and frees her from her self-loathing and nihilism.  It is precisely because she loves Nyles (and, I suspect, because she also has more self-respect and sense of her own independent identity than Nyles) that she must figure out an escape from the timeloop.  She isn't, as Nyles initially fears, trying to exit the timeloop to leave him behind; she is hoping, out of her love for him, to liberate them both.  She has confidence that they will thrive as they reclaim their future rather than be driven apart.

It's an astute and honest discussion of the inherent risks and possible rewards of loving someone.  The optimism conveyed by the choice Sarah and Nyles make together is beautiful, moving, and exhilarating.

Yet again, I gave both "Lego Movie" and "Palm Springs" 5s.  They are so good!  Please enjoy them if you haven't already, and please enjoy them again if you have!  I can attest that they're fully up to the test.

{Heart}

"Die Hard" is to Die For (Again)

Hey team,

I watched "Die Hard" (1988) for the second time recently!

Let's talk about it!

I had two sources of inspiration to rewatch "Die Hard": first, I watched it for the first time during my first parental leave and was surprised at how much I enjoyed it, and so I had the urge to include it in my second leave.  The second inspiring push came from "Brooklyn Nine-Nine", as the film is practically required viewing for the series.  Given that Husband and I are currently on round three of watching the series in its entirety (Michael Schur does it again!), I'm excited to pick up on all of the allusions to "Die Hard" that I missed the first two times because the movie wasn't fresh in my mind.

Overall, "Die Hard" is such a great popcorn-popping action movie.  It's packed with fun action and has great silly quotable lines.  In the grand "Is 'Die Hard' a Christmas movie?" debate, I am solidly in the "Yes this is definitely a Christmas movie!" camp.  Frankly, its Christmas movie status only enhances it, as it is pretty impressive to be an action movie for all seasons that can also accompany the merriest time of the year.

Especially given some of the movies I've been watching lately, I particularly appreciate and am pleasantly surprised by the great feminist messaging around Bruce Willis's John McClane recognizing the importance of supporting his wife’s career and being able to apologize.  He even concludes the film by introducing his wife (played by Bonnie Bedelia) with her professional unmarried name, Holly Gennaro, which gives her the opportunity to correct him by using her married name to signal that their reconciliation is within sight.  It is so charming that a hard-hitting action movie includes the feminist undertones!

It's also interesting seeing who "Die Hard" casts as the bad guys.  It's probably ignorant of me, but choosing mostly vaguely German/European dudes to be the film's terrorists seems like the only acceptable version of “generic foreign terrorists” anymore, and seems borderline progressive for the 1980s.  In addition to these trope-y villains, "Die Hard" also lampoons inept, stubborn, and myopic police leadership, over-confident federal agencies, and an "if it bleeds, it leads" news media.

Inarguably, the biggest reason "Die Hard" retains its indisputable charm is that Bruce Willis is SO likable.  As McClane, Willis is a just-right balance of cynical cop, adrenaline-fueled daredevil, and scrappy underdog.  It is striking how much he sweats, bleeds, and gets banged up, as well as the fact that he starts off his ordeal at a special disadvantage because he spends most of the movie barefoot.  Willis skillfully balances the human and incredible aspects of McClane to make him an extremely fun hero to root for.  

But it's not only Willis's performance that clinches this movie's status as an officially rewatchable romp.  Bonnie Bedelia is a no-nonsense and well-regarded competent professional woman who isn't above punching a reporter who exploited her family's plight or offering softness and hope for her marriage.  Alan Rickman is both delightfully and ruthlessly wicked as the infamous Hans Gruber--his infamy so preceding him that [spoiler] I was surprised at his demise at the end of the movie.  The quickly forged bantering yet affectionate camaraderie that develops between McClane and Reginald VelJohnson's Sgt. Al Powell is a great expository device.  This relationship also enjoys a satisfying two-part conclusion once the two officers finally meet face-to-face, with the two men clearly caring for and appreciating each other and Powell reconnecting with his competence as he takes out the last bad guy.

With all it has going for it, it is perhaps unsurprising that I gave "Die Hard" a 5.

{Heart}

Designing Woman of the Year: An Anti-Feminist Double-Header

Why hello,

One of the major trends in my recent movie-watching has been to watch classic films.  I've broadly defined "classic" as basically anything that was made 30+ years ago, although most of the movies I would place in this category are of the black-and-white, 1940s-1950s variety.  

I've been watching these films this for a couple of reasons:

--As someone who loves movies, it feels edifying and useful to have more background in the earlier days of moviecraft.

--I'm not usually in the mood for older movies, so when I'm in a headspace to tolerate them I want to take advantage.

--I'm curious to better acquaint myself with actors whose names I recognize but whose work I'm not yet familiar with.

--There are actors I know I love despite only having seen a tiny fraction of their work, and so I want to see more of their films.

I haven't exactly enjoyed all of these films in a hedonic way, and some I've been frankly pretty meh on.  Nevertheless, I've continued on this path as far as I have because the movies I've watched have been successful at hitting many of these targets, and they've given me a lot to reflect on.

One particularly rich avenue of reflection concerns the treatment of messaging to women during these pivotal decades during and post-World War II, a period when many women leapt into the workforce only to be promptly ejected from it once men returned from fighting.

Two films that are striking in their similarity in their reactions to these societal developments are 1942's "Woman of the Year" and 1957's "Designing Woman", starring Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy, and Lauren Bacall and Gregory Peck, respectively.

Let's begin with some of the standout moments and themes established in "Woman of the Year", which was released before World War II was over and is the first film Hepburn and Tracy made together.

The most succinct summary I can offer for this movie is that it feels like two completely tonally different half-movies stuck together.  

In the first half of the movie, Tracy's sports reporter Sam takes Hepburn's world news reporter Tess to a baseball game in what is essentially a hybrid date and instructional session, as Sam is scandalized by Tess's ignorance about America's pastime.  At the time, the snarky dialogue between the other reporters present--all men, of course--as they comment on her barrage of questions about the game probably landed as deriding Tess, and by proxy any woman in the audience who doesn't understand baseball.

However, watching "Woman of the Year" today as a woman who is underwhelmed by most sports, these men instead seem to be rendered so pitiably nervous by a woman needing all the rules explained.  It's as if by doing so, she is calling the seriousness with which they regard their precious game into question.  By needing a primer in baseball, Tess temporarily breaks its spell and renders it silly and arbitrary.  Because let's be honest for a moment: it kind of is.  Isn't that the point of a game, after all?

Tellingly, Tess only wields this power for a moment, and she seems to wield it unknowingly.  Once she understands the machinations of the game, it takes only a few innings for her to be transformed into a rabid fan.  Instead of this evolution making her out to be a poser or a turncoat, Tess's enthusiasm is sincere, charming, and infectious--she is someone who is open-minded and embracing of new experiences, able to be swept away by the emotion of a spectacle so long as it also stimulates her mind.

During this first part of "Woman of the Year", Hepburn and Tracy’s chemistry and sincere affection is such a pleasure to watch.  With their adoring gazes at each other and the tender way they say each other’s names, they seem genuinely smitten with each other.  Tracy's hardened gruffness is appealingly softened, and Hepburn burns even brighter as they engage in flirty banter.  She is, after all, a master of flirty banter.

One little tract of dialogue that threatened to drown me in its sweetness occurs when Sam and Tess are falling in love while being driven back to Tess's apartment in a cab:

Sam: I love you. 

Tess: That’s nice. Even when I’m sober?

Sam: Even when you’re brilliant.

Cab Driver (arriving at their destination): This is it.

Sam: You’re telling me.

In this and other films, truly no one lights up a screen like Katharine Hepburn.  For the first half of "Woman of the Year", she is absolutely incandescent.  Playing Tess beautifully enhances so many of Hepburn's best traits as a performer.  Tess is a truly remarkable woman for any era, but especially in the 1940s: She has a male secretary--like, she has a secretary who is also a man!  She’s multilingual!  She's witty!  She knows obscure historical facts!  She speaks in forums about women’s rights!  She is the kind of person who would be breathtakingly fun and inspiring to know.

By contrast, Sam is the grumbling everyman with a presumed heart of gold.  Sam's sweet little begrudging grins when he reads Tess's notes and his willingness to step into the breakneck pace of Tess's life invite the audience to see him that way, at least.  However, we get little glimpses of the grim future of their relationship: When he's invited up to Tess's apartment, he rejects her invitation to stay.  This is played as if it is chivalry: He wants to marry Tess, and so doesn't want to "ruin" things by advancing their sexual relationship too quickly.  But given the strong implication is that Sam has had physical relationships with women in the past, this instead telegraphs that he harbors some seriously misogynistic attitudes: some women are sex objects, others are the "marrying kind", but a woman can't ever be both.  Tess's assertiveness is therefore a threat to his ideas of how a woman he loves can behave, so better to shut her down than progress their relationship on even, equally enthusiastic footing.

Sam is also the bungling man who stumbles onstage at a feminist panel discussion and drops things all over the stage while Tess delivers her oratory.  He then curtsies as he exits the stage with the other panelists, constantly calling attention to himself and distracting from the discourse about women's rights.  In this behavior, it would be bad enough if he was mocking himself, as it would still be disruptive and self-centering.  Worse, however, is the more likely truth: he is reacting to his discomfort over his mistake, possibly intensified by his discomfort with the content being discussed, by mocking the event and the women attending it.

  

Consistent with this patriarchal mentality, Sam also engages in some acts of racism.  He mocks the Chinese language newspaper on her secretary's desk and the turban-wearing party guest in her apartment because he sure as hell can't read or converse in anything other than English.  From today's perspective, he is clearly lashing out from a place of insecurity at being very much out of his depth in Tess's world.  These moments make me flinch, however, being aware once again of how the contemporaneous audience of this film might have reacted and who was and still is being excluded from that audience.  The audience is not being directed to laugh at Sam for acting out on his hostile insecurity, but instead to join with him in bullying people who are perceived to be the "other".

While today Sam's behavior is clearly harmful and embarrassing, it's hard to imagine that he would see it that way.  Instead of recognizing how it reflects on him that he can't respectfully engage with his partner's desires, communicate with others, or participate in conversations about world affairs, his attitude conveys that anything outside of his narrow, white, American, conventionally masculine realm of interest is not worthwhile.  By mocking members and symbols of other cultural groups, he keeps his boot squarely on their necks and defends his place at the top of society's pecking order.  This does not bode well for a person like Tess.

Following these gloomy harbingers, "Woman of the Year" shows its true colors in its second half, where it suddenly becomes a joyless sexist slog.  It all starts when Tess impulsively adopts a Greek orphan and refugee without first consulting Sam, then fails to secure childcare for him while she attends a gala in which she is being named--cue the browbeating irony--Woman of the Year.  While of course it is understandable that Sam is upset that Tess made this decision without him, he responds with horrific and capricious cruelty: he refuses to attend the gala with Tess seemingly under the pretense of staying home with the boy, but instead returns the child to the orphanage.  And yet somehow, Sam is cast as the person with the morally superior stance here?

From there, the movie only manages to get worse.  Sam leaves Tess, and she tracks him down to the bachelor's apartment he's rented.  Once there, she slips into his apartment early in the morning and attempts to cook him breakfast to win him back, of course bungling each little step of the process because she is so terminally unwomanly.  She doesn't know how to brew coffee!  She has no idea how to separate eggs!  She puts yeast in waffle batter!!  (As if Sam knows how to make waffles from scratch??  And also yeasted waffles are delicious! How dare this all of a sudden garbage movie insult yeasted waffles??)  Basically all you need to do is picture an "I Love Lucy" sequence in which the show hates Lucy.  It's one of the bleakest things I've seen in a while.

Once Sam wakes up and discovers her in his kitchen, the movie further humiliates Tess both by having her plead with Sam and offer to quit her job for a domestic life filled with tasks, in Tess's words, “any idiot can do."  (Which also—rude?? Are we seriously trying to badger women back out of the workforce and into the kitchen while also calling them idiots?!  Which is it, "Woman of the Year"???)  This film needs it to be explicit that Tess is willing to sacrifice her powerful and purpose-driven career for a life she finds degrading.  And then it has the audacity to have Sam lecture Tess about the false duality of being either Tess Harding (her unmarried name) or Tess Craig (her married name).  “Why can’t you be Tess Harding Craig?”, he remonstrates.

To which I say: Well will you let her??  Sam has spent the second half of the movie belittling everything Tess is about and trying to twist her into something she isn't through passive aggression, criticism, and ultimately abandonment, only to pull the crazy-making move of then belittling her for thinking she needed to discard everything she's about.  Just to further confuse things, Sam concludes the film by “launching” Tess's assistant out the back of his apartment.  

This movie thereby comprises a massive "The Little Mermaid" (1989) violation, where the main character isn't the hero of her own movie.  Actually, "Woman of the Year" is worse than that, since Tess is actually portrayed as the villain, the selfishly independent shrew who must be mercilessly tamed.  What started as romance and ended as a sinister allegory of sexist emotional abuse and the subjugation of women.

Much to my chagrin, the second classic movie I’ve watched recently revealed that little changed in society's messaging to men and women about their rightful roles in the 15 year span between these two films.  "Designing Woman" is also a movie in which the woman's audacity in having a whole-ass life with friends, a busy job, and interests interferes with the domestic bliss to which the man who suddenly falls into her life feels abruptly entitled.  

This time, Lauren Bacall's Marilla is a fashion designer, while Gregory Peck's Mike is, you guessed it, a sports reporter.  While Tess's life was cosmopolitan and rich because of her career in reporting international events, Marilla's is even glitzier because of her professional and personal connections to the worlds of art and fashion.  Her friends are beatnik weirdos and intellectuals, including men whose engagement in dance and seemingly effete mannerisms code them as possibly--perish the thought--gay.  This opens up yet another group of people for Mike, this film's "everyman" stand-in, to target with his contempt and ridicule.

We also get to add some fatphobia to this charming elixir: Marilla also admits early in the film that being in love stokes her appetite.  Cue the occasional gag where Mike swats her hand away from tasty treats after she's mentioned gaining a few pounds.

Instead of putting her lack of culinary skills on display, Marilla's humiliation takes the form of having to work alongside Mike's past romantic partner, Dolores Gray's Lori, while he refuses to tell Marilla the truth about his history with Lori.

These differences are largely superficial, and in many cases enhance the deeper themes established in "Woman of the Year" rather than obscuring or detracting from them.  "Designing Woman" adds to the legacy of "Woman of the Year" by finding more types of people to oppress and new ways to render its leading lady ridiculous and impotent at the hands of her male partner.  

Crucially, both films drive their female leads to offer up their careers as sacrifice to keep men in their lives.  Now, even if Tess or Marilla continue working, it's not of their own volition, but instead through the magnanimity of their husbands.  These women's giant, beautifully decorated New York apartments, earned through their successful and busy careers and peopled with the interesting, vibrant cast of characters who heretofore populated their lives have become unwitting territory for petty, insecure, domineering men to invade, claim, and destroy.  By each movie's conclusion, the shrew is tamed, her kingdom is conquered, and the king is returned to his rightful place of power.  And it's crushing.

These films completely subjugate women's agency and interests, all to satisfy to the pathetic and self-serving whims and insecurities of the men who happened to flit into their lives and lock them down into poorly-conceived marriages.  Instead of condemning Sam and Mike for their cruelty, bigotry, and weakness of character and confidence, these movies expect their remarkable leading women to apologize for being remarkable, to make themselves small so the small men in their lives can feel big.  Without realizing it whatsoever, these movies are actually an extremely embarrassing indictment of the kind of man who can only feel good about themselves by wielding stifling control over another adult human being.

Perhaps more importantly, as a woman on the precipice of returning to a job she loves, which requires departing from a (temporary) role as a more classic stay-at-home mother, these movies and their messages are particularly irksome because they completely obscure women's experience of their passions for both work and domestic life (or valid lack thereof).  Instead of being torn down, Tess and Marilla should have remained aspirational figures for the women and men in their audiences.  Tess and Marilla are at their most appealing not when they are groveling for the affections of men who are frankly beneath them, but instead when they are in their elements--when they are treated as equals and with respect, and where they are competent, commanding, focused, driven, and creative--especially, as Sam briefly recognized and tragically forgot, when they are brilliant.

I gave "Woman of the Year" a 2 and "Designing Woman" a 3.

{Heart}

The Complicated Magic of "Magic Mike"

Hi there,

Yes, I watched "Magic Mike" (2012) and I feel a bit self-conscious about that but I also want to talk about it.  So let's go!

I'm going to keep this brief, both to prove to myself that I can and because otherwise it might not get done (since the baby nap currently happening on my person is likely about to conclude).

Some observations:

• Why is this movie so orange?  So much of it is orange!  That is such a bizarre choice that doesn't so much date the movie (because tinting movies orange is not a thing we did in 2012, I don't think??) but cheapens it.  I know "Magic Mike" isn't the height of fine cinema, but it's a decent movie and didn't benefit from this odd call.  It left me feeling sun-bleached and hungover, which I guess is probably the point, but it was also so distracting that it made it difficult to settle into the movie because why is it orange again?

• For a movie that is supposed to be about male exotic dancers, there is not as much dancing as there could be.  In fact, there are a few montages of dudes dancing that feel like the movie is yadda yadda yadda-ing through the dancing.  It's a concise way to show us the variety of themed dances these performers offer (They're cowboys! They're doctors! They're living Ken dolls!), but it shortchanges the actual dancing.  More dancing please!
• And I know this sounds like saying you're going to Hooters for the wings, but sincerely, I wanted to see more dancing--and not to totally miss the purported point of this movie, but I didn't need the booty (and other body parts) shaking variety of dance per se.  Because one of the places where "Magic Mike" really shines is when Channing Tatum's Mike does solo dances.  Channing Tatum is a great dancer, and it's really fun to watch!
• Another way in which this movie really excels is when Mike banters with other characters, especially with Alex Pettyfer's Adam earlier in the movie and Adam's sister Brooke, played by Cody Horn.  Mike is just so freaking charming in a way that is both effortless and authentic.  He is so likable and self-effacing in these scenes that I could watch Channing Tatum shoot the shit with people all day.

Ultimately, for a movie that I would have expected to center women's pleasure and enjoyment, "Magic Mike" significantly diverts from that path.  Instead, it focuses on society's seedy underbelly, of which exotic dancing is only a part, and the human cost of working in this corner of the adult entertainment industry.  As such, because  because "Magic Mike" humanizes the men who are exotic dancers by revealing more fully the world they inhabit, it is at times quite heavy, dark, and sad.  

It's extremely important to humanize the people who do all types of sex work, because sex work is work and the people who do it are people.  There is significant value in telling the stories of people who perform for the pleasure of others, and there are not enough richer and more complex stories about sex workers.  There's especially poignant value in "Magic Mike" being somewhat autobiographical for Tatum.  It's truly remarkable that he was able to leave exotic dancing behind and have such a successful career that he could make this movie.

Some considerable asterisks to that point: 

• I can't help but acknowledge that there is still comparatively so little media that centers women's pleasure and women's gaze.  It would have been nice for a movie like "Magic Mike" to be more light-hearted and fun so women could relax into enjoying it, while also presenting Mike and his compatriots as fully realized characters with dreams that extend beyond banana hammocks, smoke machines, and tear-away pants.  
• It would also be nice if movies like "Magic Mike", portraying the lives of adult performers and the unintended, hefty costs they often pay because of their work, were made with women, trans, and more performers of color, since there's something a bit off in casting a cisgendered white man as your star sex worker when that is not remotely representative of the realities of who does sex work in America.  Again, I recognize that this doesn't change the fact that there are cis white guys who do this work--obviously, Channing Tatum among them--but there are a lot of other stories to be told here, too, that are ever more likely to get overlooked.

It's okay if the fun version of "Magic Mike" needs to be a different movie, because the deeper story in this film deserves to be told.  If that lighter version does get made, I just hope Channing Tatum's in it.

In conclusion: I gave "Magic Mike" a 2.5.

{Heart}

Grasping at Time

Hello friends,

I've been reflecting a lot on the observation I shared at the beginning of my last post that watching movies and writing about them has been a way to grasp at and mark the remaining parental leave I have before I return to work.  At this point, I'll be starting my transition back to work in less than two weeks.

It feels like time is accelerating toward the end of the month.  It feels like it's moving with merciless speed, like a rope that's slipping through my hands even though I want to grab hold with all my strength.  It's gotten to the point in the last several days where I've started having a strong sensation almost like undergoing general anesthesia: you close your eyes for what seems like just a second, but by the time you open them again huge chunks of time have passed.  I truly don't understand how over two months have already elapsed since Second Child was born.  It doesn't feel remotely like two months have happened, and already I have to plan for and anticipate a very-fast-approaching return to work.  It's a crushing, heartrending feeling.

Keeping a running list of movies I've watched each of these months and writing about some of those movies really has been a way to to re-ground myself in the reality that I have been here, with my Child and our family, every day.  Sitting on the couch with my Child and watching movies while he eats and sleeps feels as close to a vacation as a parental leave possibly could (because ultimately, no matter how lovely and heart-filling it is, it definitely isn't a vacation).  The days I have gotten to snuggle a sweet little baby and watch whatever I want have felt like the height of luxury for a parent of a newborn, and my list of films and the many blog posts I've written attest that many of those days have happened.  February and March happened, and there's still a bit of April to go before I leave this little oasis in which I just get to be a parent and a partner.

I know that grasping is futile, and that's nevertheless what I'm doing.  The best we can do with precious time is be as fully present for it as we can.  In a way, I think that it's in part because I've been focused on being present that the time has gone by so fast--I've just been trying to soak in every beautiful, happy moment and not get too far into the tasks of the future.  

It's also, thankfully, easier (for us, at least) having a Second Child because there is so much less uncertainty and struggle.  I just get to enjoy Second Child being a cute little baby because we already figured out so much by going through these early stages with First Child.

Luckily and happily (and not unlike First Child), Second Child is a robust, adorable, sweet, happy, easy, beautiful, peaceful (mostly), cute little baby.  We are so lucky that, like First Child, Second Child is healthy and pretty straightforward.  He tells us when he's hungry, tired, or uncomfortable, but is otherwise content to babble, beamingly smile, excitedly hustle and thrash his little baby limbs all over the place, or just blissfully hang out.

All of these factors, I think, only put more weight on the accelerator of time.  I have this sweet easy little baby, I know what I'm doing as a parent, I've been intentional in how I've spent our time together, and I've spent a good amount of that time doing things I enjoy.  Of course the time feels like it's passed in the blink of an eye.  Really, with all this I think I'm just trying to find a fancy new way to say that time flies when you're having fun (and sleep deprived), and to acknowledge to myself that this is maybe what happens when your life is good: it goes by fast.

For further self-grounding, here are some other things that we did in the past two-ish months:

• We came home from the hospital.
• We introduced Second Child to First Child then immediately took both children to pediatric appointments, listening to Marvin Gaye in the car on the way with our beautiful babies in what immediately became a precious core memory for me.
• We introduced Second Child to our pets.
• We've had visits from family and friends, including a big family gathering for the Super Bowl.
• We've gone on walks in our beautiful neighborhood.
• We went forsythia picking.
• We've gone to the zoo (twice!).
• We got through our first baby cold and mastered two kinds of boogie removers.
• We've taken advantage of the food we cooked and froze before Second Child was born, but also have managed to cook a decent amount.
• I have eaten approximately 10,000 deli sandwiches because I missed deli meats while I was pregnant, and also going to pick them up gives me a little reprieve to listen to cursing-intensive leftist podcasts.
• Second Child grew out of newborn clothes in record time and is already ready for size 3 dipes.
• Second Child has been smiling since his second day on Earth and has continued to show us gorgeous, ebullient, bright-eyed smiles.
• Second Child has developed incredible cheeks, eyelashes, and amazing squishy arms and legs.
• As we watched winter turn into spring, First Child has gotten to play in leaves and learn to identify several kinds of flowers, and Second Child has accompanied us while we build new flower beds, clean out existing ones, and plant seeds.

I'm so sad (and a lot of other things) to know I'll soon be leaving this period of my life behind.  I'm also so grateful to love the work I'm returning to and to know that Husband and I have been through this before, so we know how to get through it again.  Above all, I'm so grateful for every member of our now a bigger family and every moment we get together.

And of course, I'm also grateful to have so many movies I'm excited to write about, and so many left to enjoy.

{Heart}

The Odd View "From Up on Poppy Hill"

Good afternoon,

I've happily continued my parental leave-facilitated movie-watching marathon, and am hoping to continue the blazing speed with which I am blowing through movies until the bittersweet end later this month.  Both as a distraction from all of the complex, poignant, and in some cases simply painful feelings I have about returning to work when my Second Child is still so little but also as, admittedly, a way of grasping at and marking the remaining time I do have on leave, I'm also hoping to write about as many of these movies as possible.

So let's talk about "From Up on Poppy Hill" (2011)!

There's a lot to appreciate about this film, especially given how nicely it fits into the Studio Ghibli pantheon.  The film's art is gorgeous and the overall aesthetic, from its pacing to the beautiful setting and the way action is animated, is gentle and lovely.  The movie also, in classic Ghibli fashion, treats young people respectfully, as competent and empowered agents within their own lives, and deals directly with themes of loss and longing.

[Unusually abundant spoilers ahoy]

And yet: I just can't get past what becomes the central conflict of the film, which is the question of whether its two main characters, Umi and Shun, are siblings.  This conflict is a conflict because the two teenagers also have crushes on each other.

I just can't.  I can't get past that.  Especially when the movie really doesn't adequately resolve the question of whether they are in fact related.  In fact, I found it so ambiguous that I immediately googled a synopsis of the movie and rewatched key scenes in case I'd somehow missed something.  

To retrace our steps:

--Umi's father died in the Korean War.

--Umi shows Shun a photograph of her father and two of his friends to Shun, who recognizes Umi's father because he has the exact same photo and has been told that Umi's father is also his father.

--Umi's mother tells Umi that Shun is actually the child of one of the other men in the photo who died before Shun was born, and that Shun's mother died in childbirth.  Per this story, Umi's father refused to allow Shun, his friend's newly-orphaned child, to be placed in an orphanage and impulsively adopted the baby before consulting Umi's mother, who was pregnant with Umi at the time.  Because Umi's mother felt she was unable to care for another baby, Umi's mother gave Shun to I guess some neighbors?

--And those neighbors thought Umi's father was Shun's father, but I guess we're supposed to assume Umi's father just let them think that and didn't bother to tell them the real story for unstated reasons because God knows if you're spontaneously dropping off a baby at someone's house forever there's no time to talk about where that baby came from, THERE'S NO TIME...?

--And when Umi tells her mother about Shun, including that he thinks he and Umi share the same father, Umi's mother asks if Shun looks like Umi's father and Umi seems to indicate that he does by bursting into tears?? 

--And Shun is definitely depicted having similar features to Umi's father, including his eyes and jawline???

--And instead of offering any additional proof that Shun and Umi are not half-siblings, Umi's mother just says she hadn't considered whether Shun could have been Umi's father's child????

--But hey, the third guy in the photo meets these teenagers for the first time and says that they remind him of his two dead friends, so I guess that's proof they don't have the same father?????

--Please note this guy does NOT say anything about the not-Umi's father guy's wife or partner being pregnant, or whether he even HAD a partner/wife, or anything else that would clarify that yes, the not-Umi's father guy is definitely Shun's father. (??????)

--But I'm supposed to be happy that Umi and Shun are in love with each other???????

I'm.... I'm sorry, but again: I just can't.  I feel so impossibly perplexed by this movie.  Do the people who made it understand the movie they made?  Like do they understand?  Do they understand that this level of ambiguity about something like this isn't like, okay?  Like it isn't conducive to a sweet, happy ending to a children's movie????????

I really wish I could just like this otherwise pleasant and well-made movie, but for the final time: I just can't.  Out of deference to its Ghibli-ness, I didn't want to give it a 1, but I just couldn't see how to give it much more than that.  So I gave it a 2.

{Heart}