Marveling marvelously

I'm about 90% through my MCU-in-chronological-order binge, and I've needed to take several breaks. It's been slow going through Runaways, Cloak and Dagger, The Punisher and a few other of the TV shows.

The movies I'd previously never seen have been a mixed bag...

Not the biggest fan of Iron Man, but Iron Man 3 was enjoyable once we established that the not-so-vaguely racist character of the Mandarin wasn't real. Even though I haven't seen Avengers: Endgame yet, I'm not immune to spoilers so I know how this character arc ends. And I don't care. Tony Stark is plain insufferable.

Captain America: Winter Soldier was meh, and it pains me to say that because I love Cap. The only useful thing it served for me was fully understanding what happened in the background of Agents of S.H.I.E.LD.

Avengers: Age of Ultron is the weakest of the Avengers movies, and also underscores why Tony Stark/Iron Man sucks. It also helped fill in some gaps from Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. episodes.

Ant-Man was great (Paul Rudd usually is).

Loved Captain Marvel. It's the only movie I've had to watch out of order, but only because it came out later.

I'm now extra-motivated to make it through Cloak and Dagger S2 (maybe yay), Luke Cage S2 (yay), Iron Fist S2 (God, please make it stop), Daredevil S3 (End it now, o Lord), Runaways S2 (hmmm), The Punisher S2 (no no no no no), and Jessica Jones S3 (OK) so I can finally get to Avengers: Infinity War and Endgame and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. S6.

This project has lasted longer than I thought it would, but I'm glad I'm sticking to it, even if I have to take breaks to watch Derry Girls S2, Call the Midwife S7, and old SNL episodes I missed.

Merry-Go-Round

I think I watch more movies with my sisters' kids than I do on my own. The Michigander nieces and neffy also pepper me with movie questions and express shock when I haven't seen their latest favorite.

Because the eldest sobrina apparently read Wonder the book several times and also liked the movie, we had to watch it. It wasn't something I would have selected on my own, nor watched without kids. As an elementary-school feel-good tale about friendship, it was cute. I appreciated how each character had their story told, with backgrounds and emotions coming out that others can't see in their interactions.

Coco was amazing, and not just because it was tailor-made for a Latinx fam. The story is endearing and cute and has a good twist and also had me sobbing at the end. I loved the little cultural touches -- like the chancla, the Mexico futbol jersey, the Spanish phrases not translated into English.

I liked Smallfoot. I expected it to be a reverse-Bigfoot discovery tale (and it was), but it also ended up being a refreshing take on the dangers of fearing the Other.

Inside Out was similarly cute, and all the little characters representing feelings reminded me of my youngest niece, or all of my nieces and nephews when they were little, for that matter. I had flashbacks to their toddler tantrums when various Feelings were dominant in the storyline. Oy.

The kiddos are all getting older, though, so the movies they recommend or want to watch are changing. Who knows what future theatre outings will bring?

Flicks 'n things

2018 brought a new neffy in NZ, and though I love all the Skype/Face Time/FB Messenger screen time, I'm now trying to figure out how to get back to Aotearoa soon to see him before he gets too big. They grow up so fast!

A year ago, when I saw the then-youngest neffy for the first time (he was 5), I tried to watch Hunt for the Wilderpeople to prepare me for Kiwi humor and television. It was... interesting. Parts of it were funny, parts were over the top, parts of it dragged on. In all, it's a decently heartwarming story of a foster kid who bonds with an old man while they're on the run from a social worker who (hilariously) goes all-out to find them. But it only took a few minutes into it to realize the humor is very... unique.

Upon getting to New Zealand, my bro-in-law told me that Boy was a quintessentially Kiwi funny film, so we watched it. It's a bittersweet story about an impoverished kid whose father gets out of prison and uses him to try and find loot he buried. And it's a comedy.

I think maybe Kiwi humo(u)r is just beyond my funny bone. To be fair, I've only seen a handful of NZ films -- but drama or comedy, they have all had some sort of bittersweet, underlying sad notes to them.

Then the nieces and nephews made me watch Jurassic World because they were horrified I'd never seen a Jurassic film. I really enjoyed it. Not too interested in watching the past films in the franchise, but this one was good as a stand-alone.

My eldest nephew had also recently started reading the Percy Jackson series, so we had to watch the two films. This started a rabbit hole of googling and learning about other young adult series out there that seem way cooler than the ones from my own tween years. I'll admit, the classics nerd in me loved it -- it's basically Harry Potter for the human children of Greek gods rather than wizards and Muggles. Coming-of-age stories can be hit or miss to delve into as an adult, but this one was fairly decent.

Then we got into the movies based on dystopian youth novels. We watched Divergent and then The Maze Runner. Both were interesting enough until I cheated and looked up the plots of the next books/films in the series and was so depressed it made me content to let the stories end where I left them. Divergent seemed more interesting, if done many times before: individuals are divided by roles in society, some learn the insidious secret behind the social order and revolt... The Hunger Games, The Giver, etc, etc, etc.

The Maze Runner had similar undertones but more of a Westworld vibe.

I think the dystopian trilogy fad for tweens and young readers/viewers is only popular because the kids are embarking on their own personal growth, realizing there is a strange, real world out there that they'll have to learn to navigate.  Some of them are good stories. But I think I've read or seen so many, especially lately, that these two in particular seemed really formulaic.

Plus, I'll be 40 this year. I want the happy ending fantasies to distract me from the never-ending news cycle.

My 6yo nephew still believes in Santa Claus.

Re-marveling

Once again, as Avengers: Endgame approaches, I'm trying to go back and watch the entire MCU in in-universe chronological order, this time included all the TV shows like Agent Carter and Jessica Jones that I hadn't previously thought to weave into my understanding of the general superhero narrative.

It's going to be a long journey. But luckily, the Pacific Northwest is current blanketed in a rare, debilitating snowfall. Snowpocalypse-induced cabin fever means I have a lot of binge-watching time on my hands. The Seattle Public Library has also kindly extended all due dates on books, so the non-snow options are practically endless.

Following last year's MCU binge, I bit the bullet regarding distasteful rich playboy "heroes" and watched Iron Man 2. Meh. But The Incredible Hulk was worse: the dialogue was crappy, and Liv Tyler is devoid of personality as always but so was every other character. After re-watching the (fun) Captain America and introducing myself to the highly addictive and unfortunately short-lived Agent Carter series, these next two MCU films in the timeline were such a letdown and I can't wait to get beyond this first awkward phase of the Marvel oeuvre.

Marveling

Earlier this year and late last, in preparation for Black Panther, I tried to watch all the MCU movies I could.

From the Avenger movies, I've never much cared for Iron Man or Tony Stark. I finally got around to watching the first of the Iron Man films, and while it was decent, I still didn't care enough to go on to watch the second or third. (They were also unavailable on Hulu or Netflix, while #1 was on an airplane flight.)  I guess I just don't like the spoiled brat rich guy as hero, just like I've never particularly loved Batman.


I watched Guardians of the Galaxy and its Volume 2 with some friends, and they're the perfect goofball flicks to watch in an unserious mood. In all honesty, I wouldn't have watched them on my own, but I've grown to like the MCU so I'm glad I've gotten a better picture of it... even if Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Season 5 on ABC was its worst, and I don't entirely love storylines stuck in space. Guardians were funny and enjoyable.

The Thor movies were all amazing. I thought I'd seen the first two when I made plans to see Ragnarok in theatres, but a quick Wikipedia read made me realize I hadn't. Luckily, both 1 and 2 were available on plane trips. I love the humor that floats on the surface of larger, darker themes about heritage and legacy. Of all these new-to-me MCU movies, the Thor series definitely wins. I'd watch them all again. Plus, who doesn't love Norse mythology? I'll go off and binge-watch Vikings now.

And then... Black Panther. So many critics, scholars, activists, and comics fans have said almost everything about it, from every angle. Parts of it made me uncomfortable (the made-up language, the made-up cultures, the black liberation character being innately violent and the "necessity" of his death), but I accept that the power of the story is rooted in part in a pan-African tribute, that generation trauma is a very real part of the post-colonial experience and diaspora, and that as a superhero's origin story there are basic formulas films follow. Besides, it's sci-fi. And it's also possible to love and dislike and critique and adore something all at the same time. The power of black representation, a strong storyline (with kick-ass, intelligent, independent females!), and great action sequences make it inspiring and immediately beloved. Since its theatrical release, Black Panther has since come to Netflix, and I have already re-watched it twice.

My 9-year-old nephew is also a fan of all things Marvel, in that obsessive way that children learning about things are. A few years ago I swear he memorized the gazillion Pokemon characters, which I didn't realize have like three different iterations each, and suggested I read his thousand-page Pokemon encyclopedia to educate myself before browsing through his Pokemon card collection. Recently, I mentioned to him that I was trying to watch a lot of the Marvel superhero movies and series spinoffs. He proceeded to quiz me on the gazillions of minor characters that he is learning about... in a comic book encyclopedia, which of course he suggested I read. I doubt I will reach his level of nerdery: I don't really care to learn the intricacies of how every timeline and character fits together in some intergalactic scheme.

But I warned Mi Hermana that she probably has a future Comic Con devotee in the house...

And yet, she persisted

The eldest niecester is now in the double digits, officially a tween.

I've read all manner of horrible studies that show this is when the gender gap can start in school: girls start to take less of an interest in STEM, sports, etc. She already claims she doesn't like math, despite being good at it; and she already refused to join a new soccer team when they moved out of loyalty to her old team but also because she says she doesn't like running anymore.

Yet La Primera Sobrina has all the makings of a future activist to make her parents and tía proud. (Aside from being vocally enthusiastic about the possibility of a female president during the '16 campaign, when the family decided to watch the Star Wars movies, she demanded that they watch Rogue One first because it had a girl as the protagonist.)

So aside from getting her Hidden Figures on Blu-Ray for her birthday, La Mas Cool Tia Del Mundo went on a bender to get ideas for girl-power, age-appropriate books for her. I looked to A Mighty Girl for my inspiration; most of the time their suggestions are excellent, but sometimes they aren't.

I got Sylvia and Aki without actually reading the description; I assumed it was a book about friendship between two girls during WW2 and that the focus was that one of them was Japanese-American and incarcerated. OOPS! Turns out, yes, that's a tiny part of the story, which is based on a real-life friendship between two girls in the '40s, but also more importantly, the real-life Mendez v Westminster case out of California. Mendez was a father's (eventually successful) attempt to desegregate California schools so that his kids didn't have to walk a longer distance to go to the Mexican-only school; it was later cited in Brown v Board of Education that achieved the same goal of integration, this time nationwide.  I was unintentionally trying to highlight her Asian American heritage but accidentally ended up showcasing how important her Mexican American heritage is. TOTALLY amazing book for La Sobrina, given that she is one (and "only" half) of the Latino kids at their Michigan elementary school.

Next up was Women Explorers. I, for one, was inspired by the true tales of women who travelled alone, went mountain-climbing when society told them they shouldn't, and took off to be adventurous.  HOWEVER, every single woman highlighted was either European or white American (even the Mexican heroine), and most of them were also upper-middle class if not outright wealthy. Sacajawea didn't even make a token appearance. I nixed it for La Sobrina on that basis alone. It was inspiring, yes, but didn't deviate from the pre-Third Wave feminist mentality that women's history is by default white women's history.

I also nixed The King's Equal for being too stuck in the tired Poor Girl Changes Royalty theme.I normally approve of Katherine Paterson, but this book was really disappointing. Basically, there's a conceited prince and a beautiful, intelligent but poor villager. They swap places for a year when he becomes king; it changes him, and his obviously future queen did a great job running the kingdom, so they get married. Blah.


Because the kids loved Newsies, I thought We Were There Too might keep the spark of children's activism alive. I, for one, enjoyed it. But I think it is a little dense reading for kids. And most of the "children" whose stories are told throughout American history are actually teenagers, which I thought La Sobrina and her younger siblings maybe wouldn't find as relatable. Where Women Explorers failed, however, We Were There Too had stories from a wide range of racial and ethnic backgrounds as well as socioeconomic classes. It highlighted everything from strikes to helping their families during war, and wasn't intended to be about activism so much as just showing that kids were part of American history too. The only problematic piece was that the first third of the book (early United States history) relied on European settlers' accounts, so the stories are obviously somewhat self-selective, especially in regards to how Native Americans are presented. Part of that is also a larger conversation about the nature of history as a discipline itself: reliance on first-person narratives leaves out oral traditions or conquered cultures who were very much "there too"...

And though A Mighty Girl didn't suggest it, I loved loved loved loved LOVED Wonder Woman. Mi Hermana thinks the niecester might be old enough to watch it, and I agree. I'd read all the reviews of women going to see the film in theatres and breaking down and crying during parts of it, overcome by the rare portrayal of a powerful, bad-ass lady on screen.... I did not expect to do that myself! And yet I did, towards the end, at the moment the goddess Diana finds and channels her inner mental strength to save the world. I don't tend to like DC universe comics or movies as much as Marvel, but this is the one exception. Yes, there are problematic parts: not enough ethnic and racial diversity, the issue of sexy superhero outfits for women alone, some stereotyping of the villains. Still, it's a movie I'd watch and re-watch in the company of kick-ass lady friends, my niece, my she-roes, and anyone else who is down to topple the patriarchy!

Bending toward justice

About a year and a half ago, my cousin and I went to see a local production of Rap on Race. We erroneously thought it was a rap, as in hip-hop performance, about race in America. Turns out, it was a short play based on an actual recorded conversation between James Baldwin and Margaret Mead. Oops! It was still very thought-provoking and highly relevant, just not what we were expecting.

But I've thought a lot about both our misunderstanding about the nature of the event and the Baldwin/Mead conversation itself (fraught with its own misunderstandings), especially in light of all the recent BLM actions, NFL national anthem protests, and Confederate statue debates.

Today being MLK Day, I figured it was a good time to catch up on some of my media endeavors.

Though I dislike horror movies, I wanted to see Get Out. I read all the spoilers so I already knew the "surprises" ... because I can't overstate how much I really, really, really hate horror movies. But this wasn't so much a horror film in the now-traditional slasher sense as it was a fantasy-commentary on the treatment of black bodies in white America. Having read all the reviews and analyses, I also appreciated the role of the one Asian character in the film, who is actively complicit in racism ... specifically taking part in the stand-in for a slave auction. A stark reminder about the "Model Minority" trope as yet another embodiment of anti-Blackness, indeed. There's a lot to unpack in Get Out; I feel like watching it a second time would need a film club-level discussion, because it's not something you watch for funsies on your own.

As a mixed kid (as well as a former ACLU employee and current board member), I've long known about and pseudo-revered the Loving v Virginia Supreme Court case. So I had to watch Loving. Ruth Negga and Joel Edgerton were amazing as the titular couple whose illegal marriage paved the way for future interracial couples to tie the knot -- like my aunt and uncle one year after their landmark case, another aunt and uncle the year after that, my own parents a decade later, and so on. Some of the most poignant parts of the film were quiet scenes of the Virginia landscape, where two poor individuals could easily fade into the chasm of time and tradition. I loved that the film underscored how the Lovings weren't political at all, weren't trying to make a radical statement about race relations, weren't looking for publicity. They really just wanted to stay under the radar and have their marriage recognized by the state they both loved and considered home. The whole film was a moving reminder that history is frequently shaped not by big names, but by ordinary people who just want to live their lives in their own way, in private.

Lastly, Hidden Figures was amazing. I knew bits of the story of NASA's Katherine Johnson, since President Obama honored her a few years back and she made the news. The movie was great: kick-ass nerd women fighting both racism and sexism in the '60s. (The film mainly focused on the sexism, though: mentions of the era's Civil Rights struggles were always in the background but rarely directly mentioned, except in relation to segregated facilities.) It was the perfect movie to get for my 9-year-old niece, who was so gung-ho-girl-power for Hillary in the election and who was devastated in the aftermath. (I also read somewhere that 4th or 5th grade is when girls start to lose interested in STEM classes, partly due to social cues about what girls "should" be good at. So I figured this could potentially encourage a love of science as well.) La Sobrina came up with the idea of boycotting the Pledge of Allegiance at school until the Muslim ban was overturned; it didn't pan out, but for a while Mi Hermana had to have an unexpected civil disobedience discussion with her elementary-school kids, about how there could be social consequences from other kids that didn't agree with them, but that she'd support them if they truly wanted to do this to stand by their Muslim classmates. They didn't, in the end, but their righteous anger gives me hope.

Today, of all days, I think of my nieces and nephew growing up Scottish-German-Filipino-Mexican in a largely Arab suburb of a majority-Black Detroit... and I think that maybe --just maybe-- that arc of the moral universe can be bent a little more toward justice in my lifetime after all.

Aiga

Back in July, I visited the nieces and neffy in Michigan to help them move into their new house.  We took the kids out to see Finding Dory. (Who knew at the time that the new President would later screen it at the White House?)

Nothing beats Finding Nemo, but Finding Dory was cute. There's a new cast of characters, including a hilarious escaping octopus. I like the fact that Dory's parents and friends support her in living her reality with short-term memory loss.

In another ocean-related adventure, over Thanksgiving I took the same nieces and nephew* to see Moana. We were excited to see it because yes, a Disney "princess" movie finally highlighted a South Pacific culture, but also because their cousins in New Zealand (where the film didn't open until Boxing Day) are part Islander.

Representation matters. And I loved Moana.  I loved it despite the very legitimate controversies about Disney telling peoples' stories, an annoying crab character, a Maui demi-god that was basically a reworked Hercules (see: colonialism and previously mentioned issues with Disney storytelling), and a vague blending of all South Pacific cultures into one (Tokelauan, Tongan, Samoan, Maori) that a Western audience wouldn't truly understand. And though I love Lin-Manuel Miranda, I'm not entirely sure his lyrics and singing style were the perfect fit for Moana.

But I loved it for my half-Samoan Kiwi nieces with part-Maori cousins. Brave was great: they are part Scottish too and come from many traditions of strong women. But Merida didn't look like them; Moana does. Frozen was great: they dressed up and did their hair like Anna and Elsa and dreamed of snow and ice. But Arendelle's Scandinavian balls bear little resemblance to the Island dances and hakas they are learning and performing in their mixed suburban community.

I am, however, preparing myself for endless Skype sessions filled with "How Far I'll Go" renditions.




* the Latino/Filipino/German/Scottish ones

Suspending belief

Sometimes, getting out of your comfort zone can surprise you in pleasant ways.

I don't normally like hokey comedies, ghost stories, or bizarre supernatural tales. I'm not the biggest fan of Melissa McCarthy or Kirsten Wiig (I have come to love both Leslie Jones for her Sounders enthusiasm and Kate McKinnon for her SNL brilliance). And I wasn't allowed to watch a lot of movies "normal" kids did in the '80s, so I have still never seen the original Ghostbusters.  

But I really, really enjoyed the 2016 remake! Maybe it was the all-female vibe, or the deliberate way the gender roles were reversed, or the cheesy un-scary aspect of the ghosts, but I really liked the movie more than I actually thought I would!

In a similar vein, I'm not a big comic book fan, of either the Marvel or DC universe varieties. (However, I do love Marvel's Agents of SHIELD: even without an understanding of the Avengers' back stories, the show stands on its own.) I'm not entirely sure how Dr. Strange fits into all the nerd-dom, but as a movie it was pretty fun to watch.

The only thing I'd heard about it was the controversy regarding Tilda Swindon being cast as a character who is supposed to be Asian and male. Having no personal ties to the comic, though, made it hard for me to feel affronted, even if I sympathize with critiques of Hollywood whitewashing, and even if I generally try to support films that feature people of color.

Benedict Cumberbatch's American accent was a little off-putting, though.

...And then there are the times where you get out of your comfort zone and realize you like it nice and fine there, thank you very much.

A coworker and I were talking about bizarre mystery series we loved; I raved about Jasper Fforde's Thursday Next series, and he recommended the Dresden Files. So I checked out the first book from the library. It definitely sounded intriguing: it features a wise-cracking wizard private investigator. But meh, it didn't really draw me in.

Usually I give a series a second chance by reading the second book. I'm still on the fence about this one.

I believe I know what I like.

The play's the thing

The fifth book in Gary Corby's hilarious ancient Athenian mystery series focused on that still-resonant cultural development, the Greek play. Previous books in the series focused on the (original) Olympics and the Battle of Marathon, and the future of democracy itself is always at stake if our hero detective Nico and his partner-in-crime/wife Diotima don't solve mysterious murders. This latest installment was another captivating caper -- this time involving the feast of Dionysus, the hierarchy of ancient Hellenic actors, and a good old wine-vs-beer subplot. Corby delivered yet another funny and insightful tale, with plenty of tongue-in-cheek jokes for a modern audience. I'll have to wait another year or so for the next book in this excellent series, though.

Over Thanksgiving, Mi Hermana and I went to see the final installment of the   Hunger Games film franchise.  It was largely faithful to the books, and like its three predecessors was a visual feast -- from the stunning architecture of the Capitol to the massive action sequences.  One thing that wasn't made especially clear in the movie, though, was the reason for Katniss' eventual rejection of Gale and subsequent acceptance of Peeta. Both Mi Hermana y La Otra Hermana were confused about how it played out in the movie, and neither had read the book. In the book it's much clearer that the love triangle represents war vs. peace; maybe that didn't come across on screen for the uninitiated.

But speaking of the initiated... La Madre drags family to see Pacific Northwest Ballet's The Nutcracker every few years. She mainly does it when family friends or boyfriends are in town. I've never particularly enjoyed the production or the story or the dancing (I've gotten bored every year), but I do love the music.

This year, I honestly loved the entire production. I'm not sure what exactly changed for me -- the CGI introduction, the costumes, the set, old age, the fact that I could pre-order wine for intermission... But whatever it was, I've only ever seen the PNB's Stowell and Sendak version. Their switch to the George Balanchine choreography this year made me actually love this ballet. Little details in the dances and set were hilarious, touching, beautiful. And I was never bored.  So kudos to PNB for trying something different and for finally getting me to appreciate my mother's holiday tradition!

Flights of fancy

I was ridiculously excited about the entertainment selections on the plane rides back from Africa. And even though I probably should have been sleeping for some portions of the flights, I went a little crazy with the movie watching.

The Giver was really only loosely based on the book, which I only read recently, so I don't have any particularly strong ties to it. It gave way more plot time to minor characters from the book, which changed a lot of the book's relationships but that I actually thought rounded everything out better. The book's ending was pretty vague, but the movie made it a quasi-happy Hollywood ending. So at least it wasn't entirely dreary like the book was.

While on safari, I overheard some members of another party highly recommend Kingsman. Since it stars Colin Firth, it wasn't hard to convince myself to watch it. While it was pretty good cheesy fun, as a spy recruitment caper it tried way too hard to be story about class. Samuel L Jackson must have had a ton of fun playing the evil super villain. But it was actually a pretty gruesomely violent movie, for all its camp. And it definitely needs a sequel: as a stand-alone, viewers have invested too much emotion in a street kid who bests the toffs and saves the world to just leave him as he takes over a secret intelligence society.

Someone in my own safari party, during conversation about Disney cartoon plots, recommended the new Cinderella film. Basically, Disney made a film version of its 1950 animated feature. After the Kingsman bloodbath, I needed something happy and predictable. And to my own utter surprise, I actually liked Cinderella. There are some pretty bad retellings of this particular fairy tale out there; Ever After is still my favorite, but this one is pretty good.

Like a lot of fans of the musical Into the Woods, I was skeptical when a movie was announced. I've only ever seen a PBS broadcast of the Broadway version, but this film version was actually pretty decent. Meryl Streep is always a good villain (though still not better than Bernadette Peters!), and "Agony" is still one of the most hilarious songs in show tunes.

Lastly, because my nieces all loved Tangled and it was pretty short, I forced myself to watch this meh cartoon.  I get why it would appeal to several rather strong-willed small children, but I've never liked the Rapunzel story in the first place. None of the songs were memorable, Flynn the romantic interest is basically just Aladdin in a different setting, and the plot twist of Rapunzel's hair being magical threads made the climax no different from Beauty and the Beast. It's a pretty forgettable cartoon. I want those 100 minutes back.

The same age inside

Back from Africa, but am still processing the experience. It's only been 6 days, during which our annual convention at work took place, so I haven't had much rest time since climbing Kilimanjaro and going on safari and seeing old college friends on a different continent and celebrating a friend's wedding.

I know Kilimanjaro changed me, but I've had precious few well-rested moments to myself to articulate exactly how.

In the meantime, other entertainment sources have flooded my brainwaves. I watched Midnight in

Paris on the plane to Amsterdam and LOVED it. Obviously, because it involves time travel to the 1920s and features both Fitzgerald and Hemingway (among other of my idols-between-the-World-Wars), it was practically tailor-made for me. It was also somewhat timely, since reading Hemingway's "The Snows of Kilimanjaro" in my formative years contributed to my wanting to climb the mountain. I'm not a huge Woody Allen fan, but this was a light-hearted, funny movie that hit home in many ways: a writer who loves the 1920s gets transported back, meets his idols, and reassesses his life and priorities in the 21st century. And when every famous artist (writer, painter, philosopher) appeared, I almost clapped with glee. So delightful!

Miss Buncle's Book also took place between the World Wars. It came up in the library's "You might also enjoy this" suggestion list. I enjoyed it a bit, but it took a while to get into. The premise is seems trite now, but maybe 90 years ago was novel: an anonymously published book about the lives of villagers in a small English town starts to come true, and the townspeople start accusing each other of being the author.  The real author is a dowdy spinster named Miss Buncle, and I think the main reason I couldn't really get into the book was because she came across as something of a country simpleton. She didn't mean to upset the balance of her town, but her reaction was something of a "Oh gosh, gee willikers, tee hee, look at all this" and it was a little off-putting. Definitely not a modern heroine, but not an entirely dislikable one either. She had an idea for a book, and subconsciously wrote her astute observations into them; it wasn't her fault they storylines all came true.

Like Owen Wilson's character in Midnight in Paris, maybe there's a lot I can relate to in that.

Of a mingled yarn

Because I've had it in my Netflix queue for a while now, I finally watched the cult classic Harold and Maude without knowing what the storyline was. It actually cracked me up. Taking the issue of age difference to an extreme, it tells the story of a friendship-turned-romance between a death-obsessed young man and an 80-year-old free-spirited Holocaust survivor. It's super campy -- and I normally don't like camp. But it worked well for the story, and the dark humor had me laughing more than I expected I would. It's a heartwarming, bittersweet story about enjoying life, and I appreciated its stark honesty. It also had an awesome soundtrack almost entirely by Cat Stevens.

In a way, it reminded me of The Magician's Assistant, which I'd just finished reading. One of the few Ann Patchett books I haven't read, it was kind of a depressing story about the widower of a renowned magician. After his death, she flies from LA to Kansas to find out about the past he never discussed, and his family find out about the person he became after leaving them and never looking back.

Essentially, both have the same underlying "lesson": let go of restrictive social norms, carry departed loved ones close to your heart, and live life to the fullest.

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind. 

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends. 

(Shel Silverstein)

To liberty, and not to banishment

Before I left to go hiking around Wales, I did some serious vegging out and overdosing on brain candy.

Because IP lawsuits will always pique my curiosity and The Legend of Sarila was on Netflix Instant Viewing, I watched it one late night/early morning. In general, it's a cute story about a group of Inuit teenagers trying to save their tribe from a curse of starvation by going to the ends of the earth. I wasn't sure how much was actually based on Inuit spiritual beliefs and how much was completely made up, but I liked the general storyline and characters. It was also nice to see indigenous characters front and center, in a non-Pocahontas embarrassing kind of way.

It was definitely better than The Emperor's New Groove, which I watched in my newest hare-brained endeavor to see all the Disney films I missed between Mulan and Brave. I didn't care much for any of the animated characters (I was, for better or worse, completely indifferent about the selfish emperor being turned into a llama). But the fact it takes place in the Andes kept reminding me that my next international hiking trip is likely to be Machu Picchu for a friend's 40th birthday next year.

Because The Thin Man was included in a Dashiell Hammett volume, I felt compelled to read it. Never having seen the film classics with Myrna Loy and William Powell, I had no idea what the storyline entailed. Like The Maltese Falcon, there's a lot of boozing (if the story took place now, Nick and Nora might have to check in to AlAnon). In general, I liked it better than Maltese if only because there's at least a female character who is somewhat an equal in the whole mystery-solving process. But by the end, I was just glad that most of the seminal aspects of the book have been left to the annals of history.

What hasn't been relegated to the list of arcane social practices is making animals perform in circuses or other forced entertainment facilities. I'd been reading about the Blackfish controversy so much on Twitter, that I decided to watch the documentary. (Years ago, La Otra Hermana dragged the entire family to watch Free Willy in theatres.) And the film definitely presented a compelling case to #FreeTilly (an orca involved in the deaths of three trainers) and all other orcas in captivity. What was even more interesting was SeaWorld's glammed-up video propaganda response, promoted as a Twitter ad to try and combat the claims in Blackfish. Except that SeaWorld's response was to try and paint the filmmakers as animal rights extremists and call their former animal trainers featured in it liars, rather than address the valid concerns about the treatment of captive orcas. Luckily, they got called on it by the Twitterverse.

Watching Blackfish did remind me that I've lived most of my life on Puget Sound and haven't seen an orca yet. But rather than go to SeaWorld or some other marine life theme park, I'd rather try and see a pod of whales out on the water.

Ooooh, I should put that on the bucket list...

What plighted cunning hides

It took me a few tries to get into Cloud Atlas; the first of six stories was rather boring and written using too-colloquial styles. But once I got past it, I really enjoyed the rest of the book. Weaving together 6 stories across time, David Mitchell illustrates how power and identity are shaped and shifted and endure.

The stories are dystopian: they involve the struggles of individuals against forces of society and hegemony that are pitted against them. From racism and greed in the 19th-century South Pacific, to corporate environmental destruction, to containment of undesirable old people, to a future filled with clone slaves, to a Lord-of-the-Flies-like anthropology exercise ... the stories are so captivatingly written and the underlying themes so compelling that I couldn't stop reading. Humans subjugate other humans across time, create feudal roles for each other, and draw inspiration about hope and human identity from previous ages.

As a history nerd, I love how primary sources become a daisy chain throughout time: the diary from the 19th century South Pacific adventurer is read by the composer in 1930s Belgium, whose musical masterpiece is bought and listened to forty years later by an investigative reporter, whose experience taking down a nefarious corporation is told in a detective story read decades later by a prospective publisher, whose harrowing ordeal in an abusive nursing home is made into a movie watched years in the future by a clone slave, whose testimony about oppression is later revered by inhabitants of a post-apocalyptic Hawaii.

It's like The Pinball Effect, only darker and more philosophical.

Pinging around the globe is also something I'm trying to plot out for the next year. I'm patching together a hiking trip to Wales later this spring or early summer, and trying to figure out if I can finally make it to New Zealand this winter to visit La Otra Hermana y los Sobrinos.

For some reason, I've become obsessed with stopping by the Isle of Anglesey on my trip. Maybe it was the Medicus series that did it. At any rate, since I'm trying to swing a trip to where the Druids made their last stand against the Romans, my interest was naturally piqued when Netflix oh-so-helpfully suggested Centurion for Instant Viewing.

It was so predictable, in a "this is where your heritage comes from / everybody dies / Saving Private Ryan" kind of way, with overdone tints like Gladiator, except gray instead of sepia. (Like Gladiator, it also assembles a racially diverse array of fighters that most likely reflect current 21st-century viewing demographics rather than an actual 2nd-century legion. But whatevs. It was believable enough.)

Though it's obviously a work of fiction and a larger parable for British national identity, at least it has a somewhat decent basis in Roman British history: it tries to answer the millennia-old mystery of what happened to the Ninth Legion. (I geeked out at the end when this became apparent.) But up until that point, it basically just follows the survivors of an ambush as they're hunted across Scotland by bloodthirsty, vengeful Picts.

And I liked it. It was exactly the sort of entertainment I needed for a windy Northwest night.

Hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions

I knew Disney's Frozen was loosely based on Hans Christian Andersen's "The Snow Queen". Coupled with the fact that the snow pack in the mountains in Washington State had been crappy until recently, I missed being in the snow and eagerly headed to the theatre to live vicariously through its animated simulacrum.

It was thoroughly enjoyable. The songs aren't amazing, but they are catchy. The images of ice and blizzards and powdery banks did make me miss the snow and the mountains even more, though.  I saw the "twist" at the end coming a mile away; but a princess' (SPOILER ALERT!) life-saving act of "true love" being for a family member rather than for some random contrived romantic interest was a very welcome difference in the cartoon fairy tale world, even if it was predictable.

The film also features a kick-ass female character who stays single throughout the film and isn't defined by her lack of a spouse; in fact, half the movie is her quest to accept herself and her perceived "flaws" (y'know, minor things like turning everything you touch into ice). As my nieces are going through princess stages right now, I hope there will be more messages like this one for them as they keep growing up. Especially since last time I was in Ann Arbor, my 6-year-old niece asked me (with complete innocence, of course), "Tia, why do you not have a husband?"

In the same theme of children with bizarre magical powers...

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children started out as an incredibly dark, kind of scary book about a teenager who witnesses his grandfather's violent death and goes on a journey to come to terms with the truth behind unbelievable family stories that he long assumed were made-up. Until about halfway through, when our teenage protagonist finally finds the abandoned orphanage in Wales where his grandfather lived during World War II, the story is mainly a mystery about family history. But the last half veers off completely into X-Men territory.

The book is peppered with vintage (if anachronistic) photographs, which help tell the mysterious story of people with inhuman powers. But the photos are pretty freaky and creeped me out for the first half the book.

The story itself is great, though. What's not to like about a group of kids with supernatural powers banding together to protect their time-traveling headmistresses and fight evil quasi-demons?

The envy of less happier lands

Despite rave reviews from everyone I know, I resisted the call of The Lego Movie until one day I finally gave in. Movies about toys are not generally my thing -- and it did take me over half the movie to get into it -- but in the end I liked it. Mainly because it's partially geared toward adults, but in a way that's palatable to children. And it emphases creativity over conformity, revolution over resignation. But it managed to bring out the anti-Type A facets of my OCD nature.

I knew nothing about the film going into the theatre, but the general plot actually appealed to me: a seeming nobody in a world of automatons supposedly fulfills a prophecy for rebellion and leads the movement toward a free society where individuals actually have agency and an identity of their own choosing.

The Matrix is, after all, one of my favorite movies.

Also, the Legos had a catchy techno theme song.

In a weird way, it reminded me of The Giver, which I finally read because I've been going in and out of my "read the Newberry- and Pulitzer-winning books" phase.

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It's kind of a dreary setting, but the underlying principle is the same as the Legos and Matrix: homogenous lifestyles and identities are imposed on communities in order to control them. Since the main character is a kid and is in the middle of being socialized to obey the rules in a colorless, predetermined order.

When he's twelve, he's given his future job: to receive the memories, good and bad, of all humanity. And -- surprise, surprise-- what he learns about what it meant to be human inspires him to seek out the missing links in an Ethan Frome-meets-Pleasantville-meets-1984 kind of way.

Fallaces sunt rerum species... but here's to hoping hope isn't deceitful.