Sound in film was in its infancy during early 1930’s “Pre-Code Hollywood” films, but there are very few sounds and images quite as iconic to Pre-Code Hollywood as the booming and rattling metallic sound of the firing of a Chicago Typewriter Sub-Machine Gun. The showering of lead upon various gangsters in tailored suits with matching fedoras, clouded by smoke, caused by a ricochet of bullets flying around the various urban brick buildings, in which the films took place, set a standard of spectacle among audiences in the early 1930’s. One could look no further to find that kind of violent spectacle than in the 1932 Howard Hawks directed, Howard Hughes produced, and Paul Muni starred gangster film, Scarface , loosely based on the exploits of real life gangster, Al Capone. Scarface chronicles the brutal exploits of Chicago gangster Tony Camonte, as he inflicts an excess of violence among rival gangsters in Prohibition-era Chicago, in order to rise through the ranks and become one of the most powerful alcohol smugglers in the city. Like many other films throughout film history that portrayed extreme violence, it was met with a large amount of controversy. Hughes and Hawks had to fight a yearlong censorship battle that significantly delayed the release of the picture, and in turn, the film was a large contributing factor to the rise of the Studio Production Code, and the many years of film censorship that followed in its wake. One of the most prominent and numerous depictions of violence in Scarface occurs around 45 minutes into the film during its second act. Tony had just ordered a hit on O’Hara, the leader of the North Side gang, and wants to wipe out the rest of the gang members in that area to claim it all for him. Tony and a small crew of gangsters hop in a car and start a citywide gangster massacre. What follows is a montage of Camonte’s several acts of destruction: a medium wide shot of a man sitting in a chair, minding his own business, before he is quickly murdered as a hail of gunfire rains down on him, shattering the glass behind him, and riddles both him and his newspaper with bullet holes. While there is no gore or visible squibs or bullet holes, (unlike the Brian De Palma Scarface remake) the on screen portrayal of men being killed is ever present. Camonte then commits a drive-by-shooting by gunning down a bakery, as two men in the doorway fall to the ground dead. He chases down rival gang members in their cars as one of his own members fires wildly out the window, causing the car to smash into the pavement. A man attempts to crawl up a small set of stairs and bullets rain down on him. The cloud of debris surrounds him as he falls down the stairs, motionless. He then fires upon another car, and that car crashes into a truck carrying barrels of beer, and one of the barrels rolls into the window of a nearby building, causing a woman to scream, symbolizing the destruction of the North Side prohibition business. The violent montage’s final scene occurs when Camonte and his men ambush the crew of rival gangster, Gaffney, in their hideout. Starting with a medium shot of an X-shape of two wooden planks, it pans to a wide shot of all of the men standing, but we only see their shadows in frame. Camonte demands them to put their hands up and surrender. They initially comply, but Camonte guns them all down nonetheless, leaving bullet holes in the wall where their shadows once were. The violence in the film is also portrayed comically in certain moments. For instance, there’s a scene around 35 minutes into the film where Camonte and his girlfriend Poppy are enjoying lunch in a cafe. Suddenly, several cars drive past the cafe, and attempt to fire upon Camonte. Camonte and Poppy duck for cover, but his assistant Angelo is making a phone call attempting to get the name of whoever is calling him. As thousands and thousands of bullets rain upon the cafe, Angelo is still relentlessly trying to get the name of the caller. He is standing in direct sight of the gunfire, yet all of the bullets miraculously miss him. For added comedic effect, a keg of liquid finds a bullet inside it, and liquid pours onto Angelo’s suit much to his annoyance. While a lot of the violence is brutal and realistic, Scarface occasionally finds cathartic levity in its sea of brutality. The death and violence shown in Scarface can be argued as tame by today’s standards, but in 1932, many, including the MPPDA, considered the film excessive. The MPPDA, or the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America, was formed in 1922 to, “improve public relations after a series of Hollywood scandals.” However, in 1930, after much public protest and outcry from religious groups such as The Catholic Church (Culture Shock) and funds promoting the welfare of children, the MPPDA took a stance into policing and censoring films by adopting The Motion Picture Production, commonly nicknamed the “Hays Code,” named after the president of the MPPDA at the time, William Hays. The Code’s goal was to enforce censorship of violent and promiscuous content that may seem inappropriate to those groups at the time. This includes films that were centered around prostitutes such as, Baby Face and Red Headed Woman , and films portraying gangsters such as Public Enemy, Little Caesar , and of course, Scarface . Many film companies were resistant to this censorship, because sex and violence always boosted attendance to theater showings. Furthermore, since this was during the time of The Great Depression, and many film companies were on the verge of bankruptcy, everyone had to do what they could to make as much money as possible. Scarface’s case was unique, however, in that Howard Hawks and Howard Hughes fought back against the Hays Code, and tried their hardest to get Scarface through the censorship boards while making sure the film remained intact. The production of Scarface came as the result of the booming gangster genre, and the widespread success of films such as the aforementioned Little Caesar and Public Enemy already establishing the iconography of the genre. Producer Howard Hughes and director Howard Hawks wanted to cash in on the gangster genre popularity as soon as possible, so they bought the rights to adapt Armitage Trail’s novel of the same name in 1929, which is somewhat loosely based on Al Capone’s life. Capone was a culturally relevant figure at the time, and Jason Joy, one of the heads of the Studio Relations Committee at the time, warned Hughes that making a film about such a recent and violent event would upset the MPPDA saying that, “Camonte’s heroic battle against police…unquestionably tends to glorify a gangster who also an underdog gains sympathy from an audience.” Glorifying anyone who the MPPDA may find reprehensible is a huge violation of the Code. After Joy convinced Hughes and Hawks to make changes to the story, he wrote to Hays ensuring him that the film was in no way a glorification of gang culture. Camonte would not be found sympathetic, and that the finale would have an anti gangster speech from the main character. Initially, as Hawks showed the film to many peers such as Harold Lloyd and Douglas Fairbanks, the reception was positive, and Hawks used this positive endorsement as a way to pressure the censors into not touching the film, as it could potentially diminish the quality of the final product. However, Hays was not convinced. He felt that children would see Camonte not as a villain, but as a “Robin Hood to many boys.” Edward Curtiss, the film’s editor, suggested to Hays that he would remove some of the more gruesome acts of violence in the massacre montage explained earlier, but Hays felt that the movie needed more anti-gun propaganda and less focus on Camonte’s story. However, Hughes continued to fight for the film’s depiction of violence, as he stated that censoring the film’s violence was a “threat to the freedom of honest expression in America” while he also felt, as the film is loosely based on historical events, that the MPPDA had “vicious interests to suppress a motion picture simply because it depicts the truth about conditions in this country which have been front page news since the advent of prohibition”. After Hughes and company endured a year long grueling battle against the censors, the film premiered in 1932 remaining relatively untouched, with the exception of a disclaimer put at the beginning of the film telling the audience that the violence depicted in the film is not heroic and is a serious issue in the country, and urgently asks the public, “What are you going to DO about it?” Despite its successful premiere, censor boards still attempted to ban showings of the film in major cities, and Hughes attempted to sue any theater that refused to show the film. Hughes and the Cabbo Company were victorious in battling the censorship boards over Scarface. However, in 1934, the MPPDA issued a stricter regulation on films, enforcing the rules of the Hays Code so they wouldn’t have to deal with a public relations nightmare quite like the one caused by Scarface again, and to restrict filmmakers on what they could and couldn’t show. Thus, Scarface was a large contributing factor to the end of the Pre-Code era Hollywood. The Hays Code remained relatively unchanged, the MPPDA was rebranded to the Motion Pictures Association of America in 1945, and in 1966 Jack Valenti became President of the MPAA and created a newer, more flexible, rating system that is still used today. In fact, director Brian De Palma’s 1983 remake of Scarface carried the censorship troubles the original film faced, branding it with the dreaded “X” rating. The X rating barred anyone under the age of 17 from legally watching the film, which would have killed its marketability. De Palma had to re-edit and re-submit Scarface to the MPAA three separate times before the MPAA finally agreed to give him a more respectable “R” rating. By and large, Scarface finds its place in the history of film as one that depicts its violence under a basis of truth. It doesn’t show depictions of death and destruction for the sake of exploitation or glorification, but to expose what was happening within gang culture to the public at the time and to serve as a cautionary tale, pleading to the public to not take part in the real life violence that the film’s depictions were inspired by. I take the side of Hughes, as I believe violence should not be shied away from when displayed in film as a means of depicting realism and depicting the truth of a certain subject. Violence is a part of our society’s struggles every single day, and it’s important for films to be used as a means of reflecting on our society. Jeremy Kolodziejski Jeremy is younger than he looks, and has passionately studied the art and craft of filmmaking for as long as he can remember. He is currently a freelance wedding videographer, and is also heavily involved in Competitive Fighting Games. IG: jeremyko95 #Newsletter #Articles #JeremyKolodziejski #Scarface #Violence #Hollywood #ThinkPiece #September2018

I am desperately late to the Absolutely Fabulous party, but isn’t that just the Edina and Patsy way? Absolutely Fabulous , also cheekily known as Ab Fab , premiered in November of 1992 on the BBC and drunkenly meandered through five series, a heaping handful of specials, and even an American film. Fanatically obsessed with fashion and celebrity, Ab Fab follows the wild antics of PR non-mogul, Edina Monsoon, and her best friend and magazine fashion non-editor, Patsy Stone. Edina and Patsy are brilliantly portrayed by Jennifer Saunders and Joanna Lumley respectively, and are based on characters created by (Dawn) French and Saunders, a popular British sketch comedy duo. While Absolutely Fabulous excels at many things, its most powerful contribution to the world is its unabashed ownership of the female body. “If you’ve got it, flaunt it,” and boy, do Edina and Patsy have something, alright. There are five series regulars on Absolutely Fabulous , all of them female, and all of them unapologetically clumsy and eccentric. Edina and Patsy run the show, mind you, but Edina’s mother (named “Mother” and portrayed by June Whitfield), daughter Saffron (Julia Sawalha), and personal assistant Bubble (Jane Horrocks), rounds out the core cast. These five women of various ages all fulfill different needs within the plot of the show, but all seem to breathe from the same set of lungs. Edina and Patsy have spent years abusing their bodies with drugs and alcohol, but they’ve grown just as dependent on the straight-laced Saffron’s constant disapproval of them. It’s palpable to see the buzz Edina rides after being chided by her daughter, and while Patsy complains about Saffron incessantly, it’s clear to see that Patsy is addicted to Saffron as well. Mother is on the cliff of Alzheimer’s at every moment, but she always seems to remember and lament how stuffy Saffron acts in reaction to her mother. And then there’s Bubble. Now, if Edina and Patsy aren’t wacky and eccentric enough for you, Bubble will have you covered. If it weren’t for Bubble, Edina and Patsy would appear manic, but with Bubble’s extraterrestrial fashion sense and bizarre vocal exclamations, Edina and Patsy are all but grounded in reality. As often as you see this main cast, and the various members of the secondary and tertiary casts, the true sustenance of Ab Fab comes from Edina and Patsy (even though it might just be from Bollinger “Bolli” champagne and cigarettes). To call them the meat and potatoes of the program would drive them mad, considering how often Edina complains about how fat she is. And while we’re on the subject of Edina’s problem with her weight, let me clarify just exactly what I mean when talking about the ownership of the female body. Edina does spend a good amount of time struggling with the way she looks. There’s no disputing that. To say that she is a positive role model based on her life choices is a laugh riot. But Edina’s and Patsy’s strives towards perfection are always called out as bad behavior, and all of Edina’s personal moments of fat-shaming are used to comedic effect. Granted, it’s never good for an impressionable viewer to witness moments of self-pity and self-harm if they cannot separate fact from fiction, but Ab Fab makes it very clear that these women are ridiculous and their bad behavior is something to be laughed at and not idolized. (Although I not so secretly would love to be, or be best friends with, Patsy Stone.) Aside from Edina and Patsy’s adventurous debauchery out and about in London society, the main backdrop of Ab Fab is the Monsoon family’s ever-changing kitchen. Saffron begs her mother to not waste money on remodeling their posh basement kitchen during almost every series, but Edina certainly doesn’t listen. This simple remodeling gag opens the set up for a world of physical comedy. Some of my favorite scenes are of Edina and Patsy throwing themselves down the kitchen stairs. Many times these stumbles are a case of the drunkies, but in other cases, it’s because there are no stairs to fall down. When your kitchen is constantly being remodeled, how are you to know if the stairs are missing or not? Also, the “Bolli” fridge and the Monsoon panic room are all adjacent to the kitchen, making it the perfect hub for all kinds of hilarity. Why Saffron always chooses to host her study and environmental groups in the kitchen is beyond me. It seems she too is begging for the symbiotic relationship of love and repulsion from her mother, just as much as Edina binges on Saffron’s distaste. The kitchen represents a space where the cast feeds off one another to both positive and negative effect. If the kitchen is the heart of Ab Fab , then the series itself is dealing with some seriously high cholesterol. Ab Fab doesn’t know the meaning of the word “moderation,” and completely lives in excess, with the exception of success. Because of this success deficit, the cast becomes hungrier and hungrier for any level of positive recognition. Rarely have I seen a comedy use desperation to more success than Ab Fab . No matter the high, the intoxication, the publicity, and the fashion...Edina and Patsy always want more. Edina’s PR firm represents British pop stars Lulu and Emma Bunton (Baby Spice), but just one Spice won’t do. Edina aggressively hunts down every “It” celebrity she can, so much so that some celebrities have restraining orders filed against her. Watching Edina sulk as she can’t get her way is a pure delight. And when Edina sulks, she goes on shopping sprees to buy even more ridiculous clothing, as to be taken more seriously, and the cycle continues. I can totally understand if a viewer were to say that Ab Fab is a bit too repetitive for them, but as for myself, a student of improv and comedy, repetition is funny. Absolutely Fabulous is a symphony where the conductor repeats each movement more loudly and chaotic than the one before. And with each repeated movement, Edina’s and Patsy’s dancing becomes more and more frantic. All throughout the series, Edina sings a song about her intended level of fame that goes a little something like this: "I’m walking down the road/ Just people say hello/ Say you’re looking great/ I say ‘Thank you’/ Your hair is so great.../ I say ‘Thank you’/But I’m just...walking down the road/ They say ‘Are you Stella McCartney’s best mate? / I say ‘Yeah thank you, so cool…’/Walking down the road…" The more you hear this little ditty throughout the series the more bombastic it becomes, even resulting in a rock rendition at the Royal Albert Hall. This song is a physical manifestation of Edina’s thought process and her disconnect from society. And, of course, it has to do with physical movement. Every beat in Ab Fab is motivated by some form of physical comedy. Saffron’s clear disdain of her mother’s enabling friend, Patsy, is at first exhibited by evil side-eyes, but grows into full on slaps in the face. Bubble begins her journey by bumbling around the PR office, not knowing what general office supplies and equipment are, and evolves into a spirit-channeling one-woman show, performing scenes completely separate from the plot, for and by her. In ‘Acting for the Stage 101’ classes, one is generally always taught to “use the space,” and Bubble is a perfect example of this rule. There’s even a running history of Patsy being a man for a period of time, and the joke isn’t about her gender or sexuality, but more so based on how she inhabits her space. The longer the series runs, and the bigger Edina remodels her home to be, the smaller the space becomes in relation to the size of the characters. Despite Edina’s best interests, she truly does become larger than life. The female physical comedy shown in Absolutely Fabulous pioneered the current wave of female comedy we enjoy today. I am in no way discrediting the work of I Love Lucy, The Carol Burnett Show, Three’s Company , or any other show that truly helped get this movement off the ground. And with stand-up’s Fanny Brice, Moms Mabley, Phyllis Diller and Joan Rivers, we have proof that strong, female comedy has been stewing and aging for a long time. Ab Fab simply remembered to get you in the kitchen to smell it. There is a strong queendom of physical comedy right now being lead by Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Tina Fey, Melissa McCarthy, and the duo Abbi Jacobson and Ilana Glazer (to name a few) that may not be related to the legacy of Ab Fab , but certainly exists in the same universe. Edina and Patsy soar in that universe because they know how to fall. They use their bodies to stumble, stagger, and slur their way through life, just as well as they know how to slump right on out of a taxi. Jennifer Saunders and Joanna Lumley knew the importance of reclaiming the female form from the male gaze in spite of its inexplicable ties to fashion and beauty, and they used this knowledge to subvert the notion that women can’t exist in both realms. We can be ridiculous and beautiful, self-deprecating and confident, aged and young-at-heart; none of these qualities are mutually exclusive. So, listen to Edina and Patsy when they say, “Nothing is a sin.” “We’re eating of the forbidden fruit.” Our job as an audience is to make that fruit less forbidden until it’s just fruit. Everyone deserves to be in that garden. Alright, sweetie darling? Bernadette Gorman-White Managing Editor Bernadette graduated from DePauw University in 2011 with a Film Studies degree she’s not currently using. She constantly consumes television, film, and all things pop culture and will never be full. She doesn’t tweet much, but give her a follow @BeaGorman and see if that changes. #Newsletter #Articles #BernadetteGormanWhite #Edina #Patsy #AbFab #AbsolutelyFabulous #September2018 #Comedy #British #BBC #Feminism

Comparing Your Behind the Scenes Footage with Their Highlight Reels The 2017 film Ingrid Goes West , co-written and directed by Matt Spicer, and Nosedive , (episode one of Netflix’s season three of series Black Mirror ), directed by Joe Wright and co-written by Michael Schur and Rashida Jones, both satirize and reflect on how modern American society consumes social media. The two features explore how social media can greatly influence a person’s behavior, and how it can warp people into making terrible decisions if it means it will “make them look good on the internet,” chasing the dopamine rush of a “liked” photo instead of giving them that same feeling in the real world. Both features have an unstable protagonist, desperately yearning to be accepted and loved by someone they look up to – whether it be an old childhood friend who has become more successful, or an Instagram celebrity they obsess over. While both features tackle the subject matter of the dangerous implications of social media, as well as the themes of obsession and living a facade, they are quite different tonally. They operate under different genres: speculative science fiction with Nosedive , and dark comedy with Ingrid Goes West . But which piece of fiction says something more meaningful about our current times, being governed by our social statuses on the Internet when taken to its extreme? Let’s explore. Nosedive is set in the not too distant future: a glossy and shiny America made to resemble the idealistic look of suburbia on a real estate billboard ad. Like many episodes of Black Mirror , this seemingly clean suburbia is dictated by a piece of technology. This particular episode deals with an unnamed social media app, in which its 1-5 star rating system, (similar to apps like Uber), applies to literally EVERY social interaction. The app actually affects the user’s real life social status, thus limiting what the user can and cannot do depending on their rating: such as buying a home, booking a flight, or even how other people view them. Ingrid Goes West, however, takes place in present-day California, using Instagram instead of a fictional social media platform. The protagonist of Nosedive , Lacie, portrayed by Jurassic World’s Bryce Dallas Howard, is constantly expressing a fake cheerful (and occasionally obnoxious) persona to help keep her numbers at a stable high number, complimenting every small facet of her co-workers and neighbors in order to retain her high social status. Lacie wants to buy a house, but in order to do so, she must have a higher rating, and as luck would have it, her childhood friend Naomi, ( Star Trek Into Darkness’ Alice Eve), is getting married. Naomi’s guest list is full of swanky people that would instantly boost Lacie’s credibility, enough for her to get her house. The titular character of Ingrid in Ingrid Goes West , portrayed by Parks and Recreation and Legion’s Aubrey Plaza, is a mentally unstable and lonely woman addicted to Instagram, as though the dopamine rush of a “liked” photograph feels like a heroin rush. She comes across an Instagram celebrity Taylor, portrayed by Avengers’ Elizabeth Olsen, and becomes obsessed with her to the point where she takes her savings, moving all the way out to California, and uses the rest of her money to lie, cheat, and steal her way into creating a fake persona in order to become best friends with Taylor. Both Lacie and Ingrid create false lives and personas through social media that crumble as their falsehoods lead them to make increasingly irrational and embarrassing decisions, (which I won’t spoil because I highly recommend that you watch both of these features). Eventually, they both realize that lying to others, and more importantly, lying to themselves, is not what is going to bring them happiness, and retaining honesty can be more personally fulfilling than how many people “like” them via social media. While both features are great stories created by talented filmmakers and actors, Ingrid Goes West’s satire on the obsessive culture of social media is more biting than Nosedive’s portrayal because it is grounded in real life present-day, using real and familiar social media. Nosedive , set in the future, with an app that draws parallels to real life platforms and gross behavior, creates a sense of slight disconnection to its message. The viewer can easily deny its plausibility and exclaim, “Oh, that would never happen to us. We would never get there! We’re smarter than that!” and maybe they would be right. Maybe on that day we will realize when we’ve taken social media too far and stop before we get to the point where our status can make us literally homeless. Nosedive , like many episodes of the Black Mirror series, serves more as a cautionary tale, where our obsession can lead us into a bitter world where humans are more controlled by numbers than they are now. Ingrid Goes West is a much harder pill of a movie to swallow. Its present-day setting presents horrible people committing embarrassing acts that many viewers themselves can rationally connect to on a, "Oh, this is a probable, realistic scenario!" The film’s sense of humor is pitch black, and it is much more difficult to watch than Nosedive , because it exposes harder truths of how the Internet can shape a person for the worst. Nosedive also ends on a much more cathartic note, almost uncharacteristic of Black Mirror’s nature, exclaiming a literal “Fuck You” to the obsession with social media, while Ingrid Goes West ends with a much more bittersweet and morally grey tone. It’s almost as if Ingrid Goes West is a better Black Mirror episode than one of its own! I still recommend both features, as their messages and themes complement each other, and it’s always fascinating watching two different filmmakers apply their different world views and artistry to the same subject. Jeremy Kolodziejski Jeremy is younger than he looks, and has passionately studied the art and craft of filmmaking for as long as he can remember. He is currently a freelance wedding videographer, and is also heavily involved in Competitive Fighting Games. IG: jeremyko95 #Newsletter #Article #Technology #JeremyKolodziejski #IngridGoesWest #Nosedive #BlackMirror #Netflix #Obsession

“Mother, you had me, but I never had you.” John Lennon “Mother” The joy I feel when watching FX’s Better Things , is more astutely experienced than it is explainable. To give a little insight into my life: I was raised by a single mother in a household consisting of my younger brother, my two younger sisters, and myself. When we’re out in public, we tend to draw stares and attention because we draw out the kookiness and absurdity in each other that typically lies dormant when around others. My family moved from Cincinnati, OH to a small southeastern Indiana town back in 1996, and we still to this day, are affectionately viewed as “funky” outsiders. This association has cultivated in me an appreciation for strange family dynamics that do not seem to fit in the standard sitcom household. So when FX started advertising Better Things , featuring Pamela Adlon, (the woman behind the voice of Bobby Hill from King of the Hill ), I was already sold. Following an already standout performance as Pamela on Louie , Adlon exemplifies the tenacity and intricacy of what it means to be a single mother in the modern age. To address the elephant trunk in the room, I am thankful that Adlon and FX’s response to Louis CK’s sexual misconduct is to continue the show with CK removed from the program (in all capacities including: writing, directing, and production). I won’t speak to the greater complexity of this recent upheaval of Hollywood’s sexual predators, (that is a subject for another, and more solemn article), but I will say that Adlon’s statement on the matter can be praised just as much as her Better Things’ semi-autobiographical character, Sam Fox. To express such heartache alongside anger about this issue is a genuine reaction, and Adlon is nothing if not genuine. It is a shame, however, that an article praising such a standout show needs to include a disclaimer on the very nature of its existence. But CK’s departure can now be seen to mirror the departure of Sam’s own ex-husband within the show. Adlon may have conceived this show with CK, but just as Sam does not need the help of her ex, Xander, to raise her girls, Adlon doesn’t need CK for Better Things . Custody battles tend to favor mothers, but in this case, there’s no question. I would never claim Better Things to be the first program to showcase dysfunctional, yet loving, siblinghood, but I’d say it’s pretty damn close to being one of the most accurate portrayals. For anyone who has grown up with siblings, Sam’s three daughters are extremely relatable. Her eldest Max, played with manic mood-swings by Mikey Madison, is constantly facing crises of quickly reaching “adulthood.” Her middle child, Frankie, quizzically realized by Hannah Alligood, approaches every issue methodically in her quest to find her place in both her family, and society. And her youngest daughter, Duke, played by the adorable Olivia Edward, is still at an age where she uses her mom’s affection as a shield against her older siblings, and as a veil for her own discoveries of self-awakening. I have been, and have all of these siblings, and I know their joys and sorrows. Better Things excels at representing each daughter’s woes as both extremely relevant and completely dismissive. I’m sure everyone can relate to some issue that seems to be the most important dilemma in the world, only to mature and realize that the situation in question was entirely inconsequential. On the flip side, I admire and respect how poetically Better Things understands the wonders of growing up. In the penultimate episode of the second season, (“White Rock”), Duke’s understanding of her heritage and privilege is made manifest through physical specters that visit her throughout a family vacation. At the end of the episode, Duke confronts a vision that may or may not be several things, (including her deceased great aunt or the representation of the death of her childhood). She expresses concern for the apparition, hoping it is well, and reassuring it that she isn’t fearful. While this is a brief recounting of a great many events that take place during “White Rock,” it is just one example of how reverently Better Things treats each character’s growth. Not only does Better Things manage to accent each member of the Fox family’s growth, it also does so in a way that focuses on their humanity within their womanhood. Their names alone, speak volumes to their strengths as characters. Foxes are animals known for their cunning nature, and momma Sam Fox won’t let anything happen to her cubs that they can’t handle. Better Things doesn’t shy away from the nature of womanhood – periods, menopause and vaginas are all topics out on the table – but by giving each member of the family a unisex name, the show strips each woman of their societal chain. Even Sam’s mother, Phyllis, is called Phil. Better Things subverts gender norms without sacrificing its femininity. In “Arnold Hall,” Sam and Frankie attend a bar mitzvah for a friend of the family. In an atmosphere celebrating a boy becoming a man, Sam and Frankie test each other’s limits by pranking each other both physically and verbally. Arguably, these two are the strongest intellectually within the family, and Frankie is having a go at disarming her mother. The episode uses the backdrop of masculinity to emphasize these characters’ strengths to such a degree, that you forget anyone else is in the room. That’s how loud this show lets women be. While the two younger daughters certainly get their dues, this second and most recent season, is bookended by episodes that feature the relationship between Sam and her eldest, Max. The beginning episode, “September,” takes place during a party held at casa de Fox. Max, who is initially too proud to ask for help, flits throughout the party, showing off her much older, adult boyfriend Arturo. During a seminal moment of the party, Max sheepishly asks her mom for help in dumping Arturo. She is loath to admit, she can’t handle it. Arturo is simply too old and difficult for Max to break up with herself, and she needs Sam’s assistance. It’s evident that Sam doesn’t mind seeing her daughters squirm through most of the episodes, but she thrives the most when defending and protecting her daughters. So in the last episode, “Graduation,” when Xander bails on Max the very day of her high school graduation ceremony, Sam is right there to pick up the pieces. Gradually throughout the season, we see the three daughters start to pay Sam with more and more respect. But in “Graduation,” Max finally realizes that while she has been leaving a door open for her dad to come back into her life, Sam has been making sure that there would be others waiting and ready to walk through that door. Surrounded by biological family and chosen friend-family, Max finally sees to what lengths Sam has gone to ensure her daughters are loved and fulfilled in all aspects of their lives. In the final scene from the season two finale, Sam, Frankie, Duke and Phil, reenact a dance from Christine and the Queen’s music video for “Tilted.” This is their gift to Max upon her graduation. The dance brought me to tears as Max watches in awe. Max receives several physical tactile gifts from others, but it is this expression of love and dedication, that is the best gift of all. It isn’t often that viewers get to see the Fox family exist without some kind of turmoil taking place, and the fact that they could all manage to come together to rehearse and perfect this dance is heartwarming in and of itself. The lyrics, too, deliver a powerful message: “But I'm actually good; can't help it if we're tilted,” is the reassuring chorus, followed by a bridge stating, “I'm doing my face with magic marker. I'm in my right place: don't be a downer.” The Fox family is an unconventional one, not unlike my own family. I know firsthand the difficulty in coming to terms with those differences, and learning how to tell the world that yeah, we’re okay too. Just like the song insists, I haven’t always had the right tools for the job, but my family has made do with what we have. As a white cis-woman, I cannot complain about a lack of representation individually, but Better Things speaks to me on a familial level better than almost any other television program I’ve ever seen. At the end of both seasons so far, Adlon leaves an inspiring message: “Dedicated to my daughters.” Similarly to Pamela’s (and Sam’s) girls, I know what it’s like to have a mother who dedicates everything to her children. I am so thankful for this show and I look forward to seeing the story progress in these upcoming years, maybe even more so, in light of recent events. It may take a man and a woman to conceive, but as far as Better Things is concerned: she is Pamela, hear her roar. Bernadette Gorman Managing Editor Bernadette graduated from DePauw University in 2011 with a Film Studies degree she’s not currently using. She constantly consumes television, film, and all things pop culture and will never be full. She doesn’t tweet much, but give her a follow @BeaGorman and see if that changes. #Newsletter #Articles #FX #BernadetteGorman #BetterThings #Comedy #StoryScreenThanks #Motherhood #November2017

2017 was an incredible year for film, and an incredible year for myself, engaging with film. A little bit about myself before you go on seeing my top ten opinions of 2017: I’ve been passionate about film for as long as well…forever. I was the kid in elementary school who’d rather walk around during recess and talk about movies, than play kick ball. And I grew into the adult who embarrassingly screams about Star Wars at the bar, after he’s had a second beer. I have a degree in Screenwriting (and Playwriting), and I’ve been on the Story Screen team for over a year now. In that time, I’ve written many articles on various movies, and as Co-Head of Telecommunications, (Co-Podcast boy, for short), I have helped build ‘Story Screen Presents,’ the Podcast arm of the Story Screen website, which now has over eighty episodes. One thing I’ve never considered myself is a completionist of film. To paint a picture, (without outing myself too badly), I saw Terminator 2 and JAWS for the first time this past year, so…please don’t hate me. I’ve seen forty-five 2017 film releases, and it’s by far the most film I’ve consumed in any given year. When I made my “Top 5 of 2016”, I discussed the difference between “best” and “favorite,” and I’d like to echo that same sentiment here. This isn’t a list of the best movies of 2017, this is a list of the flicks that struck a cord in me at the theater, and fueled my favorite thing to do outside of it: talk with some of my favorite people and celebrate film. Alright, lets get into it… 10. Baby Driver Baby Driver was one of those movies where I went into the theater thinking, “Yeah, this movie is going to be fucking rad,” and I left thinking “Word, that movie was fucking rad.” What I mean is: I knew a post-modern action musical from one of the most unique directors in Hollywood, (Edgar Wright), was going to be simply fucking rad. The movie has breakneck pacing and is not afraid to stop for more intimate moments. The entire cast of the film is on fire – from Jon Hamm and Jamie Foxx having some performances you never knew you’d been waiting for – to Ansel Elgort, the hero of the flick, bringing not only a softness to the film, but a powerful, kinetic physical presence, as he glides and dances to his music. The real star of the film is its use of the soundtrack. Baby is constantly listening to various iPods throughout the film, and his tunes are our soundtrack. This movie has an attitude wholly unique from other heist films that makes it an instant classic. 9. Get Out Jordan Peele’s debut film as both director and writer was a huge success. Get Out uses Peele’s years of creating satire and comedy to create a horror drama unlike anything you’ve ever seen. The story is truly a master class in genre bending narratives. The monster of this flick isn’t as tangible as a spooky clown or a ginger doll, (listen, I like those monsters too); instead it’s the real world demon of racism that plagues our protagonist in this film. As someone who has seen Get Out about four times, (it lends itself to multiple viewings), on the first go around it’s delightfully hard to follow just what is transpiring. On the second viewing and beyond, you start to see all of Jordan Peele’s narrative seeds growing scene to scene. Also, the DVD has a director’s commentary that might just be as good as the film itself, just sayin’. I’m very excited to see what Peele has in store for us next, because his debut into the world of film has been nothing short of spectacular. 8. The Disaster Artist The Room is kind of like a Cinderella story. And I don’t mean the actual narrative of the flick; I mean the story surrounding it. Without reading Greg Sestero’s tell all book, “The Disaster Artist,” you can tell that The Room just has something about it, nothing “good” per se, but something. A movie so bad, so awkward, but filled with so much genuine passion from legendary New Orleans (allegedly) man of mystery, Tommy Wiseau, that you can’t help but force all of your friends to watch it. When I first heard about the James Franco biopic, starring himself as Wiseau, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. But after seeing Franco evaporate into this role, it’s one of the most incredible performances I’ve seen all year. The film tells the story of two guys trying to make it in L.A. and the beautiful thing is, they do make it…just maybe not in the way they intended. I never thought a movie about the making of The Room would have me in tears multiple times throughout its entirety, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t relate hard to the plight of Tommy and Greg in The Disaster Artist . Do I recommend seeing The Room prior to checking out this flick? I think you’ll be happier if you do, and if you don’t, you’ll want to by the end of The Disaster Artist. 7. The Shape of Water The age-old story of a woman falling in love with a fishman is alive and well, and thank goodness for that. Guillermo Del Toro delivers probably one of his tightest cinematic experiences to date with The Shape of Water . Capitalizing on his ability to create post-modern fairytales, he adds a contemporary nuance to some of the tried and true tropes of stories of the ilk. Subverting old heroes and making them into villains, like Michael Shannon as man’s-man Richard Strickland, making his ‘Male-Ego’ a character flaw, instead of something we might’ve championed during the time period when the film takes place. The overall design of this movie is something to marvel in. It’s a tight movie, and home to some amazing real sets, practical effects, great costumes and a whimsical score that will make your belly-butterflies soar, as Sally Hawkins stares into the weird sideways blinking eyes of her aquatic love interest. The work done to make the mysterious amphibian man look real in the film is nothing short of amazing. By the end of the movie, I just found myself smiling with tears in my eyes, and just feeling really, really good. 6. Brigsby Bear Brigsby Bear was such a pleasant surprise, not because I thought the film was going to be bad, I just had no idea what I was going to get with the flick. It’s a story about stories: about tales we love as kids, and the power those tales impart with us as adults. The film asks if maybe we have a type of Stockholm syndrome with our favorite narratives, hiding from reality and diving deeper into the sub forums of what we already love. In an era of remakes, reboots and reimaginings, Brigsby Bear delivers a more hopeful depiction of what it means to continue the work of old. This is just one of the themes running through the film; it’s also hilarious, home to some amazing performances (particularly from Kyle Mooney and Mark Hamill), and is one of those indie flicks that never loses momentum during its runtime. I’m trying to keep things vague with my description of the flick because I went in not knowing anything about the movie, and I left stunned by the story it gave me. You will not be disappointed with Brigsby Bear ; it’s a film with a lot of heart that’s also just pure fun. 5. Logan We don’t deserve a superhero movie this good. I’m sorry, but I don’t deserve it and I sure as hell know that you don’t deserve it (you know who you are). In the superhero cinematic zeitgeist of the past twenty years, never did I think we would get such a lovingly crafted sendoff to some of these amazing characters. Hugh Jackman and Patrick Stewart are doing things with these characters that have never been done before on both page ("Old Man Logan" is great, but this is…something else), and silver screen (I mean come on, I’m right, right?). James Mangold crafted something that finally gave fans what they always wanted: a gory R-rated Wolverine story. If you’ve grown up with these characters, you can tell that no one understands them better than the trifecta that is Mangold, Jackman and Stewart. This was an ending to an era of X-Men that I am very comfortable with, and it is one of the greatest superhero stories ever told. 4. The Killing of a Sacred Deer Last year I named Yorgos Lanthimos’, The Lobster , as my movie of the year because I think I hate myself, or I have a vendetta against happiness. Either way, I love Lanthimos’ lens in which he see’s the world. The Killing of a Sacred Deer gives us something wholly absurd and prods at an open wound of a question we wouldn’t dare ask ourselves. The entire composition of the film, from score to performances, is wholly unsettling. You don’t feel safe during this movie, there isn’t really anyone to root for, and that’s what I love about Lanthimos’ movies. He delivers on concepts that really shouldn’t work in movies, and the way he subverts it makes it work better than most movies I’ve ever seen. This is another movie I’d hate to disappoint for people, and also I wouldn’t want to taint anyone else’s expectations with my own interpretations. See this movie, discuss it with someone you love, and you’ll realize the best thing about this film is what YOU take away from it. 3. Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri The best thing about Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri is how unapologetic it is. Director and writer Martin McDonagh, honestly doesn’t give a shit if you disagree with his point of view in this flick. This notion is pushed further by a simply brilliant performance by Frances McDormand, who plays a woman of such power, strength and bravery; it’s really something to marvel in. The dialogue of this film is incredible, and what it’s trying to say about a real problem we have in our world is loud and clear. Every moment of this film has you on the edge of your seat. Its characters are dynamic and all go through major changes by the film’s conclusion. This film takes the moral compass and throws it in the trash; it shoves you in a corner and screams, “If you’re okay with this, then you’re part of the problem,” and if you don’t see an issue with that, or you’re not ready for that conversation, then I think there’s a sequel to that terrible Batman vs. Superman movie that might help accentuate the white noise that fills your skull. 2. Blade Runner 2049 This film is a masterpiece. A two hour and forty minute movie that never feels slow and is engaging the entire time. “What does it mean to be alive?” permeates the entire story and is never fully answered. The world of this movie, a lived-in sci-fi dystopia, has never been so realized. Roger Deakins as Director of Cinematography delivers some of the most stunning camera work I’ve ever seen in a movie. Denis Villeneuve should be commended for picking up the pieces of a film with a sordid past; this is a Blade Runner flick you never knew you wanted. I was left speechless by the end of this movie, stunned by its sheer magnitude and beauty, a sci-fi movie with its robos, zoom-zooms and zap-zaps, but at its core, is a question that’ll leave you thinking for a long time. 1. Star Wars: The Last Jedi Well, it’s my list, and if I want a Star Wars as my movie of the year well guess what? Imma’ do that. It’s been two years since The Force Awakens , a great film and the beginning to a new trilogy that gave fans of the franchise a bunch of questions that they theorized on every hour of every day until the release of Rian Johnson’s The Last Jedi . Now, let me tell you, The Last Jedi gives you answers, (a lot of which didn’t match that guy on YouTube or Reddit you really thought knew exactly who Snoke was). The fan base behind Star Wars is huge, and now, it’s split: with people loving the movie and people hating it. I spent days after the movie’s release fighting my case for why I loved the film, for why it might be my favorite Star Wars since The Empire Strikes Back . I don’t want to waste this blurb talking about how people don’t like the movie, but I think it’s important to explain why the hate, why the dark side of fandom put this movie at the top of my list. I love conversations about movies, it’s why I do podcasts, and it’s why I’m writing this article right now. The conversation about this movie is huge, and my apologies to the Sith Lords out there who don’t enjoy things, but your anger will only make this film more powerful than you can possibly imagine. Now, why I love what I saw on the screen that day: I love that I got a movie I didn’t expect; I love that I got answers I didn’t see coming. I loved that this is a film about failure, which is why no character can seem to win in this installment of the franchise. This film has a darkness to it that isn’t just ominous red lightsaber wielding foes, (even though we get some of that too). The darkness of this film is that sometimes you need to lose everything to learn what you can achieve. I am sympathetic towards people who didn’t get the Star Wars they wanted. I feel for you guys, and I’m sorry you’re unhappy, but when the red dust of the mining planet Crait settles, this movie will stand tall, as a classic Star Wars that might be the best in the franchise. Before I close out my Top Ten list, there are a few honorable mentions I want to shine the spotlight on. War for the Planet of the Apes was incredible and another one of the blockbusters that HAD NO RIGHT TO BE SO GOOD. IT is an awesome horror movie, with great performances from all those little youngsters, and Bill Skarsgard as Pennywise is a joy to watch. Also, the cinematography of that movie is A+. I can’t have a top ten list where I don’t talk about Ladybird or The Florida Project , which are both films that just pull at whatever organ makes you feel (the heart? I dunno). Also, if you haven’t seen John Wick Chapter 2 yet, just stop whatever it is you’re doing and go have a good time. Shit, even the Power Rangers movie that came out this year was pretty good. Finally, I want to talk about mother! and It Comes At Night , two movies that I think a lot of people left feeling upset with. If you haven’t seen either of those flicks, please go into them with an open mind, much like what I was saying with The Killing of a Sacred Deer , these movies are meant to be unpacked and interpreted by YOU, and everyone’s take on these films are supposed to vary. Just keep in mind that people, just like you, make these movies, and you should give them the respect you would want if you yourself were creating something. I’m excited to see what 2018 will bring, and I’m even more excited to return to the microphone with my Story Screen family and bring you even more exciting content. Now get out there to see a movie, bring a friend and celebrate the medium. Robert Anderson Robert has a degree in Screenwriting and Playwriting and works in multiple genres. He's just your typical man-child who enjoys most things nerd culture. You can follow him on Twitter @RoBaeBae #Newsletter #Articles #RobertAnderson #Bestof #Bestof2017 #2017 #Top10

Let me spin a yarn for you. It’s May 3rd, 2002, and among the group of moviegoers oozing from the aisle into their seats is the chubby, nerdy, eleven year old, Robby Anderson. Once seated, I furiously tried to open a deceivingly large bag of Reese’s pieces that seemingly has no perforated edge. The lights dim and previews begin just in time for this small butter boy to open the bag of candy in just a way that sends the brown, yellow and orange balls all over the floor, which is a total bummer because you know, that’s like…over half the Reese’s pieces in the bag and YOU KNOW that shit was like ten bucks. This didn’t bother me too much though, because I was just about to see Spider-Man , the PG-13 adaption of my favorite super hero. Sure, I loved all super hero movies up to that point in my life, (even Batman and Robin ), because, well, all children are idiots with no taste until they sometimes grow out of it. Once the SONY label faded, and the intricate web of intro credits began, the proceeding two hours and one minute blew this young boy’s mind. Never before had I seen such a seemingly “adult” take on a super hero, (at this point, I had not yet seen any of Tim Burton’s Batmans ). I watched, almost voyeuristically, at the film that showcased some of the grittier motifs I’d ever seen in a movie. This flick had stakes: the murder of Uncle Ben, followed by the rage-fueled chase of his killer, corporate fatheads getting fried into skeletons, wet (so wet) upside down rain kisses, and the final showdown between Green Goblin (William Dafoe) and Spider-Man (Tobey Maguire), that made young Robby cover his eyes, (because he was actually afraid of the bloody beating Spider-Man was taking). Oh yes, Spider-Man changed things, not just for movies of the super hero genre, but also for the young boy who grew into a slightly taller, older man-boy, sporting a pretty all right beard (if I do say so myself). Since 2002, Spider-Man has had an interesting go around in the cinematic world. The original Sam Raimi Spider-Man trilogy concluded with the lackluster, (but jazz filled), Spider-Man 3 , in 2007. The series was rebooted with director Marc-“whoa his last name is”-Webb, and Andrew Garfield as Peter Parker/Spider-Man, in The Amazing Spider-Man in 2012. But after weak critical reception to the film’s lengthy two hour and twenty minutes sequel, the series was yet again put back into the think tank, (or the green gas tank that makes Goblins and Lizards, if you will). During this time, Disney acquired the film rights to the majority of Marvel’s characters, and was beginning to construct its Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU), starting with 2008’s Iron Man . Eventually, Sony decided to play nice with Disney, and in 2016 we got to see the web-slinger in the MCU with Captain America: Civil War (2016), and again this past summer, with Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017). Regardless of who owns the rights to the Spidey franchise, these movies have been some of the biggest blockbusters in cinematic history. Spider-Man has been a part of our culture’s comic book scene since the 1960’s, but he’s really only been in our cinematic sphere since 2002. After six major movies, two reboots and a lot of varied takes on the same red and blue costume, what makes a good Spider-Man movie? The thematic battle of, “Who wears who?” is not a new trope to super hero flicks. Is Bruce Wayne disguising himself as Batman, or does Batman disguise himself as Bruce Wayne? In the case of Spider-Man, this question is always at the heart of the narrative: Peter Parker cannot live a full life, because half of the time he is Spider-Man. Whether it’s Peter Parker as a teen who can’t make it to the academic decathlon, or adult Peter not being able to afford rent, while also rescuing New York City: these characters are always at odds with themselves. With Spidey, this battle of identity typically manifests into the form of a loved one. When Peter is faced with the fact he can’t be with Mary Jane at the end of Spider-Man , and again in Spider-Man 2 (2004), he begins a downward spiral of resenting Spider-Man, making him give up the suit altogether. Ironically, Peter wears a suit and mask to protect his loved ones so that he, as Peter Parker, can lead a somewhat normal life, but it seems that it’s his loved ones that are exclusively in danger. Sure, Batman loses a girlfriend before every new movie, or Superman has to spin the fucking Earth around to save that reporter Clark Kent likes, but Peter’s loved ones are repeatedly put in danger, and no amount of mask wearing can save them. All six Spider-Man movies consist of the big bad knowing what’s under those pearly white, bug eyes, this fact always leading to a loved one falling (literally) into mortal peril. “The Green Goblin is my super rich friend’s dad and he sniffed my blood at Thanksgiving and knows I like girls and now all the girls I have ever met (Aunt May and Mary Jane) are in trouble,” is a lot of what the three acts in Spider-Man consist of. This repeated motif of a damsel falling is not what makes a ‘good’ Spider-Man story. Sure, Mary Jane falling off buildings is as American as socially and politically constructed sexism, but it’s really lazy writing. Maybe it’s what audiences of the time wanted, and yes, it positioned Peter into some pretty easy predicaments, but in the case of Spider-Man: Homecoming , it’s a breath of fresh air to not have the final battle culminate around a loved one falling/being dropped off a thing. Spider-Man 2 also features the mortal peril of the only two women Peter has ever met but does the deepest dive of the literal tug of war between Spidey and Peter that we see in a Spidey movie. In the film, before Doctor Otto “not an octopus” Octavius became a horrid, octo-esque, multi-armed enemy he told Peter: “Love should never be kept a secret. If you keep something as complicated as love stored up inside, it could make you sick.” The movie depicts Peter’s desire to just do normal things, like not follow around the pretty redheaded girl in your red/blue pajamas, or to see a crime happen and ignore it. The movie wants you to believe it’s Peter’s love for Mary Jane that makes his powers go through a very flaccid allegory. The film leans into this question: why be Spider-Man at all? Does great power mean a sacrifice of personal life? The greatest crime of Spider-Man 2 is that this question is never fully answered. When Mary Jane is captured by Doc Ock at the end of the movie, this is what finally brings Peter’s powers back. What was taken away from him was brought back, through the same mechanism, but this never answers the question: does Peter WANT to be Spider-Man or does he HAVE to be? These are questions that make a great Spider-Man movie, seeing Peter confront his alter ego to discover what he really wants out of his life and why he can or cannot have it. Spider-Man: Homecoming features a Spider-Man who wants nothing more than to not only become a super hero, but also an Avenger. The flick is very different from its predecessors, ( The Amazing Spider-Man largely piggybacks on what works in the Raimi movies). Homecoming’s Peter isn’t fighting to lead a dual life, he’s ready to drop out of high school and become an Avenger, (if Tony Stark ever were to ask). The conflict of that movie is very much a “Year One” story for Peter, the trouble he gets into is from biting off more than he can chew, trying to impress others, or taking on Big Bads before he’s truly ready. Of course the typical dual life-juggling act is still in the film, it’s just a little more nuanced. Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.) is a great foil to Peter’s (Tom Holland) inability to lead a double life. Peter and Spidey can never be in two places at once, but Tony and Iron Man can, mockingly so. The movie features scenes of Iron Man saving Peter’s life, while Tony is in another country giving Peter a lecture. Tony Stark is the seeming antithesis to Peter’s super hero dilemma. It is how relatable Peter is as a character that makes him so great. He’s not super rich; he can’t be in two places at once. He’s just a kid from Queens who got dealt a bad hand before getting these incredible powers. But, as we know, with great power comes great responsibility, because with a great hero comes deadly villains. Spider-Man's rogue gallery is one of the strongest of any super hero, and though the cinematic Spidey-ventures have a few duds, the majority of its Big Bads is what brings us to the theater. As I mentioned before, every major villain across all six movies eventually find out the true identity of Spider-Man. Villains should always embody a dark facet of our hero. Green Goblin and Spider-Man were made in the same Oscorp laboratory; Green Goblin exists to challenge Peter’s heroic ideologies. When he holds the fates of children in one hand and Mary Jane in the other, he says to the wall-crawler: “This is why only fools are heroes-because you never know when some lunatic will come along with a sadistic choice. Let die the woman you love…or suffer the little children? Make your choice Spider-Man, and see how a hero is rewarded! […] We are who we choose to be, now…CHOOSE!” Green Goblin in Spider-Man makes for a fantastic first villain in this franchise, because he is the road Peter did not choose, and he wants to punish Peter for his choice. In Spider-Man 2 , Doctor Octavius is also created from a scientific experiment gone awry, but unlike the Green Goblin, this isn’t self-inflicting. While demonstrating his experiment of a thing that shouldn’t explode but does (I think it’s a fusion reactor, it’s not important) he loses his wife to the accident, but also a piece of himself, as the mechanical arms fuse to his spine. With part of him missing, Doc Ock becomes hell-bent on doing the experiment over, even if it takes the city down with him. Before any of this happens, we meet Otto Octavius, a nice, modest man, who sees something great in Peter Parker, teaching us that it only takes one push to make good people go bad. Even though Spider-Man 3 gets a ton of hate, the idea of the symbiotic suit amplifying Peter’s ego makes for a great villain of sorts, making Peter/Spider-Man the villain and obstacle in his own path for most of the movie. The Amazing Spider-Man villains are not really anything to write home about. Lizard is basically written like a Doc Ock/Green Goblin hybrid, and I’m sorry but I don’t feel like talking about Electro (HE’S NOT INTERESTING). In Spider-Man: Homecoming we are #blessed with Michael Keaton’s Vulture. A character that keeps to namesake, scavenging from the wreckage of previous Avenger battles to create a black market that sells super-powered weaponry to common thugs. A fantastic reimagining of the character, Vulture’s ideology is that of a working class guy trying to get his. He resents the super-powered elite, who he feels fight above the common folk, letting carnage and their own hubris crumble everything around them. Vulture a representation of the side of super hero collateral damage that you never even thought of. Also, his suit is fucking cool. Of course, we remember villains for their characterization, but what really makes them stick in our minds long after the credits roll is the quality of their final showdown. I can only speak to my own opinion on the matter, but after watching (and re-watching) all six movies, I must say, that my favorite action sequence is the train fight in Spider-Man 2 . The way the perspective changes during the fight from the top, side and inside of the train, is insane and gravity defying. The image of a mask-less Spider-Man, using his body and raw strength to stop a train is one of the most iconic in Spidey lore. The scene forces Spider-Man to use every move in his arsenal and shows the audience the literal limits of his powers. The final showdown in Spider-Man between him and the Green Goblin is also memorable, as I mentioned before, being a kid and seeing a scene where Green Goblin is just whaling on Spider-Man was gruesome. The thing I love about all of the Spidey showdowns is the battle damage the suit endures. It makes sense thematically, for a villain to know who Spider-Man is under the suit, and literally beating the secret identity out of it. It’s a visual that has always stuck with me at the end of these movies. So, what really makes a good Spider-Man movie? It’s hard to say. Film is an evolutionary process. My favorite has to be Homecoming , because of its fresh take and nuances, but that’s because six other Spider-Man movies precede it. Amazing Spider-Man knew the greatness of the Raimi trilogy; it’s why it pays so much (too much) homage to it. That original trilogy will always hold a special place in my heart. The little, Reese’s spilling Robby Anderson I told you about at the beginning of this article would watch the Spider-Man DVD on a little portable DVD player on every car ride, and on most nights before bed. The greatest thing that movie gave me, however, was the vernacular to talk about movies. I was able to articulate to people older than me, and to friends my same age, why Spider-Man is the greatest super hero ever, and why the Spider-Man movies are the greatest super hero movies ever. Now, as a (kind of) grown up, I’ll always love these movies, but I thank them for giving me a critical Spidey-sense about film. Robert Anderson Robert has a degree in Screenwriting and Playwriting and works in multiple genres. He's just your typical man-child who enjoys most things nerd culture. You can follow him on Twitter @RoBaeBae #Newsletter #Article #RobertAnderson #SpiderMan #Marvel #September2017 #Superpinion

Up until October 30th, 2012, the Star Wars franchise was in a bit of a funk. It had been five years since George Lucas wrapped up his critically-not-so-acclaimed prequel trilogy with Revenge of the Sith , and ol’ George had gone on the record saying there would be no more feature films in his "Skywalker saga," by him or anyone else. In this period of time things were quiet on the galactic front. Ancillary Star Wars media was still being pumped out, via comic books, novels and video games, filling in the narrative gaps of an ever-growing expanded universe. It wouldn’t be until 2008 that we would get Star Wars: The Clone Wars , a digitally animated Cartoon Network joint that after its first season, started delivering some A+ Star Wars material from Dave Filoni and his team. In the interim, we didn’t have much to look forward to. Sure, there were exciting rumblings of a live action Star Wars show in development, as well as the premiere of the accompanying video game, Star Wars 1313 . Its debut trailer during E3 2012 had people thirsty for more, but it seemed fans were never going to see the franchise strive to hit cinematic highs anytime soon. Then a major shift in the Force occurred. On October 30th, 2012, Disney acquired Lucasfilm for $4.05 billion dollars, and announced the development of three new mainline Star Wars films taking place after the original trilogy. The news was palpably exciting: Disney’s Marvel Cinematic Universe was about to head into its second phase, and with the company’s very successful superhero team-up movie, The Avenger s, behind them, it seemed that the House of Mouse had very capable nerdy hands to usher in this new generation of Star Wars . Fast-forward six years to the late spring of 2018; audiences around the globe have received many yarns from long ago in a galaxy far, far away. Disney shook up the canon of Star Wars fairly quickly after its acquisition, announcing that all expanded universe material taking place before The Phantom Menace and after Revenge of the Sith was no longer canon. Properties like Clone Wars and most additional stories taking place during the prequel trilogy’s timeline remained canon. This basically trimmed the fat of the side stories around the original trilogy, leaving Disney space to now fill in those gaps. Fans had a hard time saying goodbye to Mara Jade and the Knights of the Old Republic, but this decision was necessary for Disney to start making room for their new trilogy of Star Wars films. The aforementioned Star Wars live action television series, the announced video game, Star Wars 1313 , and potentially other unannounced Star Wars projects were all cancelled by Disney, as they began to take control of the franchise. The Clone Wars had wrapped up early, and Dave Filoni released his next animated series, Star Wars: Rebels , in late 2014. It wasn’t until 2015, that this new generation of Star Wars really began. JJ Abram’s Star Wars: Episode VII: The Force Awakens , released in December 2015, paid homage to the original trilogy (some would say too much so) while also setting up new heroes and plot threads that would make up the DNA of these next three films. A year later, in December 2016, we got the first of our Star Wars anthology films: movies designed to explore other stories outside of the main saga. Gareth Edwards’ Rogue One: A Star Wars Story , felt very different from Star Wars proper; it was a gritty war story of how the rebels got Leia the Death Star’s plans. It was met with positive fan and critical reactions, and showed us the potential range of Disney’s new stories. In December 2017, Rian Johnson released Star Wars: Episode VIII: The Last Jedi , causing a giant disturbance in the Force. The film was released to high critical praise, still maintaining the third highest score of all the Star Wars films on Rotten Tomatoes. It’s also worth noting that it made it onto almost all of the managing team’s top films of 2017 lists for Story Screen (don’t @ us). Regardless, the film was met with a loud fan backlash. It’s hard to say if this loud group of people who claimed their “childhood was ruined by Rian 'Ruin' Johnson” is in the majority or a silent minority, but this writer is inclined to think the latter. This being said, no matter what side you’ve been fighting on these past few months, it seems a Star Wars fatigue is already settling in. Finally, in May of 2018, we got Ron Howard’s (formerly Phil Lord and Christopher Miller’s) Solo: A Star Wars Story . The reaction to this film is still ongoing; personally I’m on my second viewing and I consider it the weakest of this new generation of Star Wars movies. For context, it is ranked seven out of all ten Star Wars movies on Rotten Tomatoes. But no one said this ruined his or her childhood so I don’t know. I’m not bitter; I digress. At the time of writing, there are now six active Star Wars productions in various stages of development that we (the general public) know of. In 2019, we’ll be getting the hopefully epic conclusion to this new trilogy of Star Wars movies with Episode IX , directed by returning Jedi Master, JJ Abrams (formally Colin Trevorrow). Leading up to The Last Jedi’s release, it was announced that Trevorrow would no longer be directing the flick, and that Abrams would be taking over. This was met with some fans relieved, happy with the decision to bring back Abrams, but also an anxiety that he may choose to “play it safe” with this installment, much like he did with The Force Awakens . During the time of the release of The Last Jedi, it was also announced that Rian Johnson was beginning development of an entirely new trilogy. Not much is known about this new series of flicks other than that it will take place in unexplored areas of the already well-established Star Wars universe, separate from the Skywalker saga. We also know that the creators of the Game of Thrones television series, David Benioff and D.B. Weiss, will also be developing a series of Star Wars films. We don’t know much about these films either, but some fans have theorized that the two writers might be ushering in a “darker more adult” take on Star Wars , much in line with their Game of Thrones series. John Favreau, director of Iron Man , the new Jungle Book , and the upcoming Lion King movie, is writing and executive producing a live action Star Wars television series that will air on Disney’s upcoming streaming platform. Considering his pedigree, I’d imagine this show will be good. Probably really good. Dave Filoni recently wrapped Rebels and has announced his new animated series, Star Wars: Resistance . We know that this series is going to take place between Return of the Jedi and The Force Awakens , having a more traditional anime art style, and that it will also air on Disney’s new streaming platform. If I had to guess, we’ll probably find out if Snoke is Mace Windu and everyone can stop complaining, (for the record, that theory is stupid, and you should feel dumb for liking it). Finally, we very recently received an announcement that James Mangold, director of superhero masterpiece Logan , is going to write and direct a Boba Fett anthology film. It’s too good to be true considering Disney’s track record for switching/firing directors mid-shoot/development of these anthology films, but WHO KNOWS WHAT COULD HAPPEN?? So where are we with Star Wars in 2018? Well it’s kind of a rollercoaster, but the thing is… this has always been the curse of Star Wars . Between all of the films, television shows, one-off holiday specials, toys, comic books and video games, there’s one thing Star Wars has never been, and that’s consistent. I love Star Wars , for better or for worse, and I think, much like droids, this is the franchise’s lot in life. Hopefully this newfound saturation won’t spoil the broth for all Star Wars fans. I can only speak for myself, but I still want more Star Wars , and I do not necessarily want this stream of galactic content to slow down. I want that Boba Fett movie; I want more Rian Johnson Star Wars . David Benioff and D.B. Weiss can keep their potentially R-rated film to themselves but hey… maybe I’ll dig that too. The truth is, we’re stuck with Star Wars for a while, and if your love for the franchise is as big as the Death Star, than it’s good to be outspoken with what you want out of the future of franchise. Before a galaxy far, far away was Disney’s, it was ours. And without us, Star Wars will fade away like a satisfied Luke Skywalker. Robert Anderson Co-Head of Podcasting Robert has a degree in Screenwriting and Playwriting and works in multiple genres. He's just your typical man-child who enjoys most things nerd culture. You can follow him on Twitter @RoBaeBae #Newsletter #Articles #RobertAnderson #StarWars #Fandom #TheLastJedi #Marvel #Disney #June2018

Film and magic are surprisingly similar. Both require a sense of showmanship, withholding information from the audience to make the greater illusion have more of an impact. In a magic trick, the magicians use slight of hand and misdirection to guide an audience along, following their step-by-step process until the reveal of something unthinkable. They’ll keep your eye on one card, or keep getting the card you chose wrong, so in that final moment, when they in fact knew your card all along, they leave you in awe. A story in a movie isn’t all that different; they can’t just tell you in the beginning of The Empire Strikes Back that Darth Vader is Luke’s father, because then why would we care? Instead, Empire takes you on a journey, capitalizing on a point of misdirection from the previous film - that Vader killed Luke’s father, right? Making the film’s climatic reveal one of the most powerful in cinematic history. There is a film in particular that understands that middle chunk of the Magic/Film Venn diagram better than most: Christopher Nolan’s, The Prestige . The Prestige came out in 2006, sandwiched between Nolan’s mega hits, Batman Begins and The Dark Knight . The film follows the bitter rivalry of two magicians, Robert Angier (Hugh Jackman) and Alfred Borden (Christian Bale), as they attempt to both sabotage each other’s career, while also trying to learn the coveted secrets of each other’s ultimate magic trick, “The Transported Man.” In the film’s opening, we hear Cutter (Michael Caine) explain how a magic trick is performed in three parts. He describes these parts as “The Pledge,” “The Turn” and, finally, “The Prestige.” Now, the film can also be broken down using a term that many know as Three Act Structure. This structure is a tried and true method that has been used in screenwriting for many, many years. With, or without (and most times, with) this structure in mind, all screenplays can be broken down using it. I believe that in Nolan’s The Prestige , he’s using the idea of a “magic trick,” or even magic itself, as an allegory for screenwriting. The first image in the film is about a dozen or so top hats, all exactly the same, strewn about a forest floor. Then we hear a voice ask, “Are you watching closely?” In the following sequence, Cutter describes “The Pledge” as, “The magician shows you something ordinary. A deck of cards, a bird, or a man. He shows you this object. Perhaps he asks you to inspect it. To show you that it is indeed unaltered. But of course it probably isn’t.” This monologue is played over three intercut scenes: Cutter showing a young girl a bird, then Angier on stage as the curtain rises, behind him a strange machine, following that we see Borden, disguised, being chosen from the crowd to come onto the stage. These scenes help visualize this idea; we see a bird, a man, both ordinary, unaltered. This though, is misdirection, a tool of a magician and a filmmaker. The something ordinary, unaltered item that probably isn’t what it seems isn’t the bird, or the man, it’s those top hats, the ones you already forgot about five minutes into the movie. The first Act of a movie also comes with its own set of rules. Act one is the set up for the rest of story, in the first few minutes of the film we have exposition, the bits of the story that set up the basic who, what and where. Followed by that, we have the inciting incident, the point in the film that explains the major ‘problem’, or thematic question of the movie. Act one is a movie’s pledge to the audience. The Prestige is told non-linearly, meaning it bounces back and forth within the timeline of the film’s narrative. Our exposition is Cutter’s monologue over all of the action that happens in the film’s climax leading into the courtroom, where we get our inciting incident, Borden on trial for what seems like Angier’s murder. Whether it is a magic trick or a story, this is essentially the hook in the audience’s lip, reeling them in for the rest of the film. When an Act ends, it happens at a major point of change, it’s at this point the plot shifts, the wheel of the ship begin to turn. Act one ends when we get the answer to why Angier has such distain for Borden. He believes Borden is responsible for his wife’s death because of a magic trick gone awry. This is the beginning of their arms race to ruin each other’s careers. This is the road that makes them become the men we see in the beginning of the movie. Cutter describes “The Turn” as, “The magician takes the ordinary something and makes it do something extraordinary. Now you’re looking for the secret, but you won’t find it. Because of course, you’re not really looking. Don’t really want to know. You want to be fooled. But you wouldn’t clap yet. Because making something disappear isn’t enough. You have to bring it back.” Over this chunk of the monologue we see exactly that. Cutter performs the second part of the disappearing bird act in front of the girl by seemingly crushing it and it’s cage out of existence. Then we see Angier step into the machine and become engulfed by lightning, before he too disappears into a trap door on the stage. We see a man and a bird do something extraordinary: the act of disappearing. The second Act of a film is the longest and where most of the action occurs. During the film’s second act we see the development of Borden and Angier’s greatest trick, “The Transported Man” (or cheekily called later in the film “The ‘Real’ or ‘New’ Transported Man”). The arm’s race and subsequent sabotage of each other’s career (a loss of some fingers and a broken leg) culminates in the film’s most supernatural moment. Angier goes to Nikola Tesla (David muthah fuckin’ Bowie) in hopes to find a way to perfect this trick and finally have the upper hand on Borden. Here we see Angier’s top hat do something extraordinary. We learn that Tesla’s machine that we see in action in the beginning of the flick doesn’t transport anything, what it does is make a duplicate copy, and send it somewhere else. Act two ends with Angier testing out Tesla’s machine on himself for the first time, followed immediately by Borden reading Angier’s journal, which reads, “it is hear I leave you at The Turn, Borden”. It is here we leave Act two. “That’s why every magic trick has a third act. The hardest part. The part we call…’The Prestige’.” Act Three begins with Borden, behind bars, giving Lord Caldlow’s assistant “The Pledge” and “Turn” for his version of “The Transported Man,” saying he’ll only give “The Prestige” when he see’s his daughter again. Borden is metaphorically handing over the Act one and Act two of this film’s story. During Cutter’s monologue at the beginning of the film, he describes the Prestige over images of the bird reappearing and Angier drowning in a tank. It’s not enough to make something disappear; you have to bring it back. As an audience to a film, it’s not enough to throw questions at us, you need to give us answers. Ambiguity can be achieved in stories and garner great conversation, but unanswered questions are something else entirely. During the films climax, the final confrontation happens between Borden and Angier, and we learn everything. We get all the answers. All of the story threads are woven together creating the end result of the film, creating “The Prestige.” Borden shoots Angier in the final moments of the film, avenging his twin brother’s death and putting an end to the madness of the film. Angier’s final monologue goes as follows, “You never understood, why we did this. The audience knows the truth…the world is simple. It’s miserable. Solid…all the way through. But if you could fool them even for a second…then you could make them wonder. And then you…then you got to see something very special.” Screenwriting, or storytelling in general, does exactly that. Seeing a movie, reading a book, watching a play, this all gives us a chance to escape from our own harsh reality. We know these stories of grandeur are fake, we know they’re made up and meant to entertain, but to be entertained, to cry at something or laugh is one of the greatest achievements in storytelling. Sometimes, you just want to be fooled. Robert Anderson Robert has a degree in Screenwriting and Playwriting and works in multiple genres. He's just your typical man-child who enjoys most things nerd culture. You can follow him on Twitter @RoBaeBae #Newsletter #Articles #RobertAnderson #May2017 #ThePrestige #ChristopherNolan #Screenwriting

Grief has the power to seed a deep depression that can completely overwhelm and consume a life. It can cling like an entity, constantly lurking in every shadow. It can isolate one from their closest friends and family. The more it is denied, the more it grows. Such is the demon personified in Jennifer Kent’s horror thriller The Babadook . The Babadook, like grief, becomes a part of you. You can face it, and you may even be able to overcome it, but it never goes away. When we are introduced to the The Babadook’s central character, Amelia, she is already deep in the throes of depression. She is approaching seven years as a widow, as her husband was killed suddenly in a traffic collision while the two were on their way to the delivery room. Amelia now lives alone with her son, Samuel, and presumably has been since the tragic incident. From the very start of the film, Amelia appears at her wit’s end. Amelia’s depression hangs over her long before the film’s ghastly apparition appears. Amelia’s life is dull, grey and lonely, as expressed by the visual language of the film. When she is at home, the film’s color palette is cast in shadow and washed out, appearing at times almost black and white. The house in which Amelia and Sam reside seems devoid of any sign of warmth and compassion. The sky remains constantly overcast. Accelerated camera shots show Amelia lying awake through sleepless nights. The only glimpses of light and color come from scenes where Amelia is out of the house with her sister Claire, but even then she is cold and withdrawn. Her son, Sam, is approaching his seventh birthday. Sam proves to be a handful for Amelia, regularly throwing tantrums and misbehaving. While Sam’s unruly behavior is not wholly abnormal for a six year old, the boy clearly seems both troubled and wise beyond his years. He constantly rattles on about defeating a monster and protecting his mother before the two discover the storybook that releases Mr. Babadook. It seems as though Sam is cognizant of his mother’s struggle with depression and wishes only to help her. Despite Sam’s show of love, Amelia remains distant. The boy’s entire life is stigmatized by his father’s death. Sam’s birthday is also the anniversary of the car crash, and Amelia has refused to celebrate on the day of for the past six years. As a mother, she struggles with an unshakable feeling of contempt for Sam, subconsciously blaming the boy. She wants to return her son’s love, but is troubled by the struggles of raising a child alone and haunted by the loss of her husband. This feeling clearly eats away at her. Pain, regret and guilt drive a wedge between Amelia and her son. Kent personifies Amelia’s pain with the titular Babadook, a shadowy figure that haunts Amelia and Sam throughout the film. He is unleashed through a mysterious storybook called “Mister Babadook” that appears unexplained on Sam’s bookshelf. What is seemingly at first a normal children’s fairytale quickly reveals itself as a foreboding warning of pain and suffering. In the scene, Amelia reads the storybook to Sam as a bedtime story. What is so often a bonding moment between mother and son becomes corrupted by the twisted tale of Mister Babadook. This moment reflects Sam and Amelia’s entire relationship, as the two are prevented from truly bonding by the grief that overshadows their home. In the story, Mister Babadook warns “you can’t get rid of the Babadook.” So too is Amelia unable to relinquish her grief. Over the course of the film, Amelia becomes more and more frayed. She can’t sleep, and Samuel’s misbehavior seems to only intensify as his birthday approaches. She denies her troubles, insisting to family and colleagues that she is fine. But the more she denies her grief, the stronger the Babadook becomes; its presence becoming increasingly more tangible. She is taunted by the returning presence of the storybook, the visualization of the grief that she repeatedly tries to destroy. The book threatens her with depictions of Amelia harming Sam, her dog, and herself. Before long, Amelia becomes desperate and attempts to find relief for herself and Sam through sedatives. As Amelia’s health deteriorates, she rapidly begins to lose control and the Babadook’s presence takes over. Sam is clearly concerned about his mother’s deteriorating mental state, warning of the Babadook’s power and repeatedly begging his mother not to let it in. But his mother falls prey to sleep deprivation and self-medication. She has lost her battle with depression, and the Babadook takes control. When it does, Amelia loses herself, swinging wildly in a near manic-depressive state. In one scene, she is bedridden and refuses to feed Sam. In the next, she is apologizing profusely and offering ice cream. A few moments later, she threatens Sam with a knife and murders the family dog. While visions of the Babadook terrorize Amelia throughout the film, the demon itself never actually inflicts any physical harm. Amelia sees visions of The Babadook both in and out of her home, his cloaked figure looming in the shadows, his presence creeping in with increased intensity as her health declines. However, he remains only a threatening influence, as it's only when Amelia loses control to the monster that any physical violence begins. It's here we see that the Babadook’s true evil is its power to manipulate us into causing harm to both ourselves and the ones we love. With the depiction of the Babadook, Jennifer Kent creates a terrifyingly tangible vision of grief’s ability to completely derail a life. Amelia’s grief prohibits her from finding peace with her son, and when she is at her lowest point causes her to attempt to hurt him. Amelia’s unchecked depression nearly causes her to take her son's life with her own hands. Amelia’s salvation comes not from using some ritual or magic spell to defeat the Babadook but instead from her son’s love and her own introspection. Sam never leaves his mother's side, even after the Babadook has taken full control. He loves his mother unconditionally and keeps his promise to protect her. It’s his tenacity and compassion that frees Amelia from the clutches of the monster. Ultimately, love is the counter to the depression that has hung over Amelia and Sam for so long. Sam’s unrelenting courage is enough to help his mother overcome the Babadook. In her final confrontation with the monster, Amelia rewitnesses the moments that led to her husband’s death. She is only able to regain control of her life by facing the source of her grief head on. She peers into the deep blackness of the Babadook’s visage and demands that the monster leave her and her son alone. In the film’s final scenes, normalcy has seemingly returned to Sam and Amelia’s life. The sun finally shines as we see the two celebrating Sam’s seventh birthday. They are smiling, and for the first time in the film seem happy together. Though Amelia overcame the monster and has seemed to have found some peace, its presence remains. We see Amelia feeding a diminished Babadook, now residing in the basement. As she approaches, the demon howls an intimidating roar. Amelia coos in reply and is able to console it, sending it shriveling back to a shadowy corner of the room. This scene shows that though Amelia is able to come to terms with her grief, the pain of her husband's loss never wholly goes away. His absence will be felt for the remainder of Sam and Amelia’s life, and she must learn to live and cope with it on a daily basis. Theorizing that the monster never really existed and that the scenes in which we the viewers experience paranormal activity are simply Amelia’s delusions is a fun mental exercise. However, the film is truly effective horror because it does not matter what occurs in physical space or what is a mental projection. The Babadook establishes empathetic characters with human issues and creates a demon to personify those issues. We as viewers can partake in the very tangible fear and pain that these characters experience by dreading the boogieman that Jennifer Kent has created. While depicting a character plagued by grief and depression may elicit sympathy, it does not always invoke the same visceral suffering as a terrifying demon. Kent has given mental illness a face, one that lurks in every shadow and is a menacing threat. For Amelia, the Babadook’s haunting is just as real as the grief that has tormented her and her son since her husband’s death. The film allows the viewer to peer into the same ghastly face of depression that so many face every day. Jack Kolodziejski Jack makes drugs for a living, but not necessarily the fun kind. He enjoys international travel and discussing music, movies, and games in excruciating detail. #Newsletter #Articles #JackKolodziejski #TheBabadook #May #MentalHealth #Grief

Mirriam-Webster defines scandal as “a circumstance or action that offends propriety or established moral conceptions or disgraces those associated with it.” Common culture defines the exposure of Janet Jackson’s breast during the Super Bowl XXXVIII halftime show as “Nipplegate,” the utilization of false documents regarding George W. Bush’s military service during a broadcast on CBS by Dan Rather as “Rathergate,” and the deflation of footballs for use in the NFL as “Deflategate.” What all of these controversies hearken to is arguably the biggest scandal in U.S. modern history: the Watergate scandal. In 1972, a slew of crimes perpetuated by President Richard M. Nixon, his aides, administration, and counselors came to light. The crimes included, but were not limited to, burglary, wiretapping, and misuse of campaign funds in order to secure Nixon a re-election. Once these crimes surfaced, subsequent cover-ups were made to preserve Nixon’s innocence. Ultimately, the country’s outrage and distrust led Nixon to resign in 1974, before his inevitable impeachment. In today’s culture of “fake news” and tweet-crazy politicians, it’s sometimes easy to forget that while the outreach may have been different in the past, there has always been a system of checks and balances between the public and politics. A month after Nixon’s resignation, President Gerald R. Ford pardoned Nixon much to the country’s dismay. It had seemed that the United States would never get the apology, let alone the admission of guilt, it so desperately desired from the Republican party for one of the largest abuses of power in history. This feeling of unrest and injustice brewed for three years. On May 5, 1977, 45 million viewers tuned in to see the charismatic British television host and media personality, David Frost, challenge Richard M. Nixon for the first installment in his four part television series, The Nixon Interviews. Ron Howard’s 2008 Frost/Nixon is a dramatic retelling of those interviews, from conception to execution to reception. Stemming from Peter Morgan’s 2006 play by the same name, the stageplay was adapted personally by Morgan for the screen. While not entirely historically accurate, the film captures the intense desire from both camps to control the narrative of the interviews and guide their respective parties to a “win.” Frost, portrayed with wit and charm by Michael Sheen, is joined by his producer John Birt, ABC News correspondent Bob Zelnick, and American journalist James Reston Jr. Nixon, growled to perfection by Frank Langella, is aided by his post-presidential chief of staff Jack Brennan, his literary agent Irving “Swifty” Lazar, and a handful of investigative reporters including a young Diane Sawyer. At the time, Nixon agreed to be interviewed for a hefty sum of $600,000 and 20% of any profits to ease his growing financial woes, and Frost needed the interviews to rehabilitate his stateside television career after his New York based television program had failed. With reputations on the line, both parties approach the interviews as a means to regain former glory. In the realm of Frost/Nixon , the camera is treated as a god. In many ways, Frost and Nixon both pay tribute to it, knowing very well the story and worth of their lives are entwined with their on-screen personas. Preceding the interviews, Nixon recounts that public perception of his debate with President John F. Kennedy changed dramatically between radio perception and television reception. Famously known for his sweaty upper-lip, Nixon was seen as the loser of the debate when witnessed in the flesh, but through voice alone he came across as the winner. Set in a California home, The Nixon Interviews take advantage of allowing viewers into an intimate setting to further control their viewers’ comfort and receptivity to their own chosen narratives. Both men understand the power this setting can have, but by surrounding an intimate living room with stage lights, booms, and producers, the Smith family den more closely resembles a boxing ring. Before each taping takes place, both teams lock eyes acknowledging they’re both ready to throw down. Frost/Nixon treats the four part television special as only four individual days of taping, when in reality the taping took place over the course of 12 interviews, resulting in over 28 hours of material. Clearly, there is no better representation of the phrase, “there’s always more to the story.” While Howard doesn’t delve into each of the 12 tapings, he uses dramatic license to expound on the tension between the two men by creating a series of fictitious telephone calls. At the beginning of the interviews, Nixon uses these telephone calls to establish dominance by engaging in head-games. Moments before the first few interviews, he chooses to bewilder Frost by commenting on his “feminine” fashion choices or asking about his sexual escapades the night before. Nixon knows he is using his most powerful asset, his voice, in order to intimidate Frost, because once the camera starts rolling, he knows his defenses are weakened. Before the last round of taping, however, Nixon drunkenly calls Frost to wax poetically about lost dreams and working their way to the top from seemingly nothing. He speculates that they’re two men cut from the same cloth who just happen to be on opposite sides. He promises that these interviews are going to make their respective adversaries acknowledge their greatness once and for all...but there can only be one winner. It’s this phone call that lights a fire under Frost to come at Nixon with a diligence that will lead him to victory. It would seem as if David Frost’s success is a byproduct of the symbiotic relationship he has with the camera. His charm grows while in the spotlight and he saves his discomfort to only be visible behind the scenes. During The Nixon Interviews, he’s like a socialite Kal-El and the camera is his sun. For the final day of taping, focusing on Watergate, Frost realizes his desire to become “a trusted confidante” in Nixon’s eyes has been his handicap and changes his direction of attack. In a one-two punch of questioning, he gets Nixon to begin to admit, “Look, when you’re in office you gotta do a lot of things sometimes that are not always in the strictest sense of the law, legal…” To which Frost replies, “...are you really saying that in certain situations the President can decide whether it’s in the best interest of the nation and then do something illegal...?” Nixon: “I’m saying that when the President does it, that means it’s NOT illegal.” Out for the count. History classes always teach the story of Nixon and the Watergate scandal, but Frost/Nixon teaches the lesser-known truth of Nixon’s condemnation. While Ford had exonerated Nixon, an outsider and a television personality took it upon himself to expunge that pardon and heal a nation in turmoil. He managed to coax an apology out of Nixon who confessed to letting the American people down, knowing he would never have a political life again. In today’s climate, that would be like a less flamboyant Graham Norton taking Trump to task for his presidential bravado. Frost/Nixon takes place forty years ago this year, and is no less a reflection of our political environment as it was back then. Half of America still is hungry for answers and admissions of guilt. If you haven’t seen Frost/Nixon , I implore you to seek it out. Howard’s film gives hope that even in the aftermath of injustice, wrongdoers can still be held to trial. It even bestows humility and humanity to the corrupt. Living in the heavily filtered social media climate we live in, Frost/Nixon reminds us that a camera can have the ability to strip one to one’s core. If the camera really is a god, it truly can see all. Bernadette Gorman Bernadette graduated from DePauw University in 2011 with a Film Studies degree she’s not currently using. She constantly consumes television, film, and all things pop culture and will never be full. She doesn’t tweet much, but give her a follow @BeaGorman and see if that changes. #Newsletter #Articles #FrostNixon #BernadetteGorman #FakeNews

“Shakespeare one gets acquainted with without knowing how,” proclaims the young Englishman in Jane Austen’s Mansfield Park . “His celebrated passages are quoted by everybody,” responds the other. “They are in half the books we open and we all talk Shakespeare, use his similes, and describe in his descriptions.” Over four hundred years after Shakespeare’s death, his work is no less pervasive than in Austen’s time, and in no small part due to his use of language. Inventive neologism, indelible turns of phrase, soaring poetic beauty, pulse-pounding excitement, psychological insight, sly ribaldry, subversion, and satire are all to be found in Shakespeare’s choice of words and form. Yet many modern films drawn from Shakespeare, dispense with his language entirely, instead adapting stories that were, themselves, already adapted by Shakespeare from a litany of classical, historical, and literary sources. If the intrinsic value of Shakespeare is so deeply rooted in his language, can a film that does away with it still justifiably call itself “Shakespeare?” Actually, yes. Allow me to explain. There are many ways to think about Shakespeare, but we can divide them broadly into two categories: Shakespeare the man, bound strictly to his life and times, whose work must be examined in context, and Shakespeare the cultural force: timeless, malleable, modern. A study of Shakespearean text requires the former lens, but if you’ve ever seen Shakespeare performed well, then you already know it won’t do here. Shakespeare in performance is alive, immediate, and thrilling. What does the Globe Theatre Fire of 1613 have to do with the stirring passion of Kenneth Branagh’s St. Crispin’s Day speech, the seething bitterness of Al Pacino’s “if you prick us,” the pitiable heartbreak of Jean Simmons’ “hey nonny,” or, for that matter, 10 Things I Hate About You ? Nothing. Examining Shakespeare’s modern impact calls for a modern perspective. So, if we accept a definition of “Shakespeare” beyond the context of one man’s life, allowing us, in modern times, to claim a share of ownership of his legacy, what of the fact that the stories he immortalized were not originally his? Is West Side Story really an adaptation of Shakespeare, or simply another incarnation of story elements dating as far back as the 4th century A.D.? Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet , drawn heavily from Arthur Brooke, transforms the poem into an intricate clockwork machine, condensing the timeframe and plunging the characters into a headlong rush of mistakes, violence, passion, and paradox. Plautus’ Menaechmi and Amphitruo are combined and unified in Comedy of Errors . A range of sources, both literary and legendary, informed King Lear , none of which conclude with the death of Lear and Cordelia. That Shakespeare's stories were not his own, does not devalue his structural, thematic, philosophical, and poetic innovation. However, while we accept that West Side Story is, in a sense, “Shakespeare,” can it be so easily lumped together with Luhrmann’s, Romeo + Juliet , 2013’s Warm Bodies , or (god help us) Twilight ? Clearly, some distinctions must be made. Let's create three categories. It'll be fun; I promise! First, the “Adaptations:” films drawn directly from Shakespeare's language, if heavily edited. Think Branagh, Luhrmann, Whedon, 2015’s Macbeth or 1971’s King Lear . You get the idea. Next, the “Re-Tellings:” Kurosawa’s Ran and Throne of Blood , or She's the Man , which jettison the language and change the setting, but maintain fidelity to story and character. Finally, the “Analogues:” Forbidden Planet , The Lion King , Star Wars Ep III: Revenge of the Sith (think about it), which draw on Shakespeare in only the most elemental fashion. A sub-category could perhaps be termed “Meta-Analogues:” films like Kiss Me, Kate , Shakespeare in Love , and Get Over It , which play analogous stories directly against their literal inspiration. While adaptations and re-tellings can both be viewed, for our purposes, as “Shakespeare,” the analogues can safely be dismissed as too far removed for relevance. With these distinctions made, let's take a closer look at the re-tellings. Lacking Shakespeare's language, 10 Things I Hate About You , nevertheless hews closely to The Taming of The Shrew - more so, in fact, than Kiss Me, Kate . The distasteful sexism of Shakespeare's play and the efficacy of appropriating “shrewishness” for feminism within the fundamentally problematic structure of a romantic comedy are discussions for another time. Films like 10 Things are important, not just for keeping Shakespeare’s influence alive and well in our pop culture awareness, but as a tool for overcoming barriers to accessibility. What greater barrier does a high school student face when confronting Shakespeare than the language? How fitting, therefore, that so many Shakespearean re-tellings are set in modern high schools, and how well some of the material lends itself to such a setting! In bringing a 400 year-old text to life for a new generation, educators share a priority with directors and performers: accessibility, engagement, and immediacy. What better way to introduce Twelfth Night to students than to precede it with a viewing of She's the Man ? Beyond the classroom, the artistic viability of the Shakespearean re-telling holds true. The strength, life, and power of Shakespeare in modern performance is tied to its reinvention. These stories, as immortalized by Shakespeare's astonishing constellation of talents, have infused our culture, speech, values, dreams, fears, and fascinations. A Shakespearean film, even one without Shakespeare's language, nevertheless draws from the bottomless well of his resonance in our lives. We must never stop reading, performing, and filming Shakespeare in his own words, but neither need we be so protective as to eschew its re-telling. Shakespeare is for everyone, after all. Let there be no lock upon the door. Edward Gibbons-Brown (Sometimes) a theatrical director/actor/producer and writer, and (mostly) a bartender and New Beaconite often found in semi-aimless wander, Edward is pleased and honored to contribute this piece to the most excellent Story Screen. #Newsletter #Articles #Shakespeare #SeriesActI #EdwardGibbonsBrown

“What came first, the music or the misery? Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?” This chicken and egg question sets up High Fidelity as a case study in how frequently we internalize media as a shared experience. A fan culture snob’s dream, High Fidelity is a film about heartache, kismet, and romantic maturity, all layered in vinyl at 33 ⅓ RPM. As a thirty-something record storeowner, Rob Gordon is obsessed with top five lists; they categorize everything: from top five side-one track-ones, to his, “desert-island, all-time, top five most memorable breakups.” These lists function as guides to help us better understand his connection to others around him, including the women that have romantically come and gone in his life. Over the course of the film, Rob chooses to revisit this top five of breakups, culminating in the one currently taking place. With each relationship postmortem, he learns an integral lesson on how to love. Alison Ashmore “It would be nice to think that since I was 14, times have changed. Relationships have become more sophisticated. Females less cruel. Skins thicker. Instincts more developed. But there seems to be an element of that [rejection] in everything that’s happened to me since. All my romantic stories are a scrambled version of that first one.” Rob considers Alison to be his first girlfriend, even though they only made out for two hours, after school, for three days in a row. But on the fourth day, much to Rob’s chagrin, he catches Alison on the bench, swappin’ spit, with Kevin Bannister. That experience is Rob’s first unwilling foray into romantic betrayal and deception. As the film progresses, it’s clear that Rob has not grown up to be a man of action. He passively experiences life through music, film, and television. Stemming from this initial experience with heartbreak, he fashions himself to be a man that life happens to, rather than a man in charge of his own life. Upon reconnecting with Alison’s mother, Rob reevaluates his entire importance in Alison’s life, and that his perception of it, has been a lie. Alison didn’t even consider Rob to be her first boyfriend, and she ended up marrying the “home-wrecking” Kevin Bannister. Rob’s relief cannot be any more palpable. Tween love is fickle, and while the betrayal was painful at the time, he now determines that it in no way spoke to his shortcomings as a three-day “boyfriend.” Rob’s first lesson in love is to understand that it can drive the narrative in anyone’s life, and it isn’t beholden to only his plot. This revelation does not completely solve Rob’s hang-ups on love (he’s only getting started), but it does set him on the path to not harboring a subconscious animosity towards love that others share around him. It doesn’t have to be Rob vs. the world. Penny Hardwick “I started dating a girl who everyone said would give it up and who didn’t... and Penny went with this asshole named Chris Thompson, who told me he had sex with her after something like three dates.” Penny is the quintessential high-school girlfriend: she has the smarts, the looks, and the charm. Rob, however, is only interested in expanding his carnal knowledge. At that current moment in Rob’s life, it’s all about competition and rounding the bases. Unfortunately, he fails to appreciate Penny’s internal attributes. Her wishes to keep the relationship a steady PG-13 result in his decision to pursue someone who seems to be an easier conquest. Much to his dismay, he finds out shortly after their split that she has changed her mind and decided to go “all the way” with someone else. This, of course, plants a seed of self-consciousness that manages to work its way into every subsequent one of Rob’s relationships. When Rob and Penny reconnect years later, Rob is excited to find out they share a lot of similar interests. Bolstered by the positivity of the evening, he feels confident asking what went wrong in their relationship, and why she wanted to sleep with Chris Thompson and not him. Of course, Rob doesn’t even begin to consider that her experience will differ greatly from his one-sided memory. She tearfully recounts that she had wanted to sleep with Rob, but not while in high school, and that she had felt pressured in the relationship with Chris. Fearful that all relationships would follow the same pattern, she gave in. Her decision to sleep with Chris, in turn, led her to live a celibate four years in college, due to her own personal shame and dissatisfaction. She reminds Rob that HE left HER because she was “tight,” and that it was unfair for him to rewrite history and bring up rejection. This repainting of the past is more than unflattering for Rob’s character. It demonstrates that he was shortsighted and hadn’t given a second thought towards Penny’s feelings. The truth, however, does reveal a second lesson in love for Rob. For one, he learns (or is reminded) that he had not been cast aside, as he had so long held true. Secondly, if he would have put his own desires aside, he could have recognized how decently matched they really were. Keeping such a narrow focus in a relationship, no matter what that focus is, prohibits a full appreciation of what the union can achieve. Charlie Nicholson “And she liked me. She liked me. She liked me. At least, I think she did. We went out for two years. And I never got comfortable.” After surviving the hells of high school anguish and self-doubt, Rob graduates to the next level of romantic pursuits in college. As an art design major, Charlie has opinions on anything and everything. Rob hangs on her every word and cannot help but pinch himself that a girl this cool chooses to hang around him. For two years Rob convinces himself that he’s a fraud and fears that Charlie will wake up and realize he’s not nearly hip enough to keep around. His hang-ups about the relationship cause a self-fulfilling prophecy, and Charlie ends up leaving him for the, “dreaded Marco:” one of the men in her design department. Out of all the reconciliations in the film, Rob is the most hesitant to get in touch with Charlie. To him, she should be, “living on Mars,” instead of being listed in the phone book. But, strangely enough, his fears should have been ignored, because when Charlie invites him to a dinner party, Rob realizes that she’s terrible. She spouts off uninteresting opinions all evening long, all but ignoring what others have to say, and strives to make herself the most heard. What Rob remembers as eloquent speech is corrected as ridiculous jargon, as if Charlie believes she’s the first to have opinions on any given subject. With her cool-girl facade demolished, Rob takes solace in knowing their whole relationship can now be chalked up to a poor judge of character. He learns a little lesson in self-value and in turn gets a boost of confidence. He’s slowly, but surely, learning to turn away from his self-saboteur ways. Sarah Kendrew “Only people of a certain disposition are frightened of being left alone for the rest of their lives at 26. We were of that disposition.” Rob meets Sarah while he is still reeling from the breakup with Charlie, while Sarah is also recovering from an equally destabilizing breakup. Instead of the both of them wallowing alone in their respective miseries, they decide to be together while staunchly agreeing to be “alone.” They share a mutual disdain for the opposite sex while living together, and they continue to operate as two single adults... until Sarah unexpectedly meets someone else. How can he, Rob, be rejected by a woman who was his partner in anti-rejection? So, not only has he been dumped - he’s been duped! It is clear from the beginning of Rob and Sarah’s reunion that while Rob may be a mess romantically, Sarah has a much wider array of issues. She’s unemployed, she’s just been put on a new medication for an unnamed condition, and she’s woefully single. The man she left Rob for turned out to be a dud, and she not so subtly hints she would like to get back together with Rob. In this new light, Rob sees Sarah for the dramatically messy and unguided person she is. He’s now glad she had left him, because at least when she looks back on her life he can be a good memory and not another problem she had to cope with. Now that he’s beginning to become more self-aware, he can see the damage that fostering negativity in a relationship can cause. The basis of their relationship was a crumbling foundation from the start. Laura “She didn’t make me miserable, or anxious, or ill-at-ease. And you know, it sounds boring, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t spectacular, either. It was just...good. But really good.” Laura is the catalyst for Rob’s entire journey of self-discovery. At the very beginning of the film, they have just split up, and Laura has packed up the majority of her belongings and is moving out. This prompts the: “desert-island, all-time, top five most memorable breakups” list, and Rob is loath to include her. He claims she just isn’t capable of delivering that kind of heartbreak, but changes his tune once he discovers she has begun a relationship with a former neighbor of theirs. These events wake Rob up and give him the drive to reexamine what has caused his relationships to fail and why he has been deemed so unlovable. Instead of seeing these women as just characters in the story of his life, he begins to view them for the people that they are. One of Rob’s greatest qualities, (and one of his greatest faults), is his super fan nature. He has no problem connecting deeply and emotionally with music, television, or film, but he has a tremendously difficult time transferring this passion to those around him. His nostalgia and appreciation of music tend to cloud his memories with peaks and troughs of romanticisms that rewrite his own history. Over the course of the film, Laura corrects Rob’s interpretation of their relationship. She explains: it became too difficult to watch Rob move through life without so much as changing a pair of his socks. Her career had evolved, her friend group had grown, and he hadn’t been making an effort to evolve with her. It is no question that Rob is a critical thinker, but he had always hindered himself by never being fully present in a relationship, not until his and Laura’s reunion, post love-life rehab. As a “professional appreciator,” he had never taken on a creative role in his own life, living only passively from experience to experience. After approaching the top five breakups as an adult and better understanding the course of his romantic life, he and Laura reconnect in a healthier and more levelheaded union. He learns a final lesson when he meets an attractive music reporter, with whom he instantly connects. His time apart from Laura taught him to be comfortable with others in relationships, to not focus on self-interest, to be confident in himself, and to not foster negativity; all of which aid him in loving Laura more fully. But upon meeting this reporter, he realizes that the ultimate reason his relationship with Laura failed was because he always had one foot out the door. And with that realization, he decides to fully commit to Laura. Instead of imagining the fantasy of what could be with someone else, he accepts his happy reality with Laura. Choosing to live in the now, allows him to accept Laura’s love. “The making of a great compilations tape, like breaking up, is hard to do and takes ages longer than it might seem…Anyway, I’ve started to make a tape...in my head...for Laura. Full of stuff she likes. Full of stuff that makes her happy. For the first time I can sort of see how that is done.” Bernadette Gorman Bernadette graduated from DePauw University in 2011 with a Film Studies degree she’s not currently using. She constantly consumes television, film, and all things pop culture and will never be full. She doesn’t tweet much, but give her a follow @BeaGorman and see if that changes. #Articles #Newsletter #BernadetteGorman #Top5 #HighFidelity #Love