A few weeks after Captain Marvel has been released I find myself wondering, what am I going to say? Op-eds have been penned from the most glowing, to the most critical, from feminist takes on the film, to articles that just present the facts. Let’s start there. It is a fact that this movie is one of the best-selling movies of all time. Literally, Captain Marvel has landed in the top 5 of almost any film category, (Superhero, Opening Day, etc.) and is currently sitting at the highest-grossing film led by a woman. Although this is impressive on its own, it’s no surprise that the Disney-Marvel marketing machine - bolstered by a strange sense of revamped Top Gun nostalgia - has created some real hype around the film. What we need to look at is the scope and the implications of this overwhelming success. We have had black superheroes, women superheroes, and Marvel (with a little help from Wonder Woman ) has proven that “diversity” is not just a selling point, but a best-seller. Diversity is never the real issue when it comes to women, black people, or queer people in lead roles, instead the problem always boils down to gatekeeping in Hollywood. Diversity just... is. It is. It is in the spaces we live in, our neighborhoods, our friends. To have a diverse movie is to have a movie that reflects the realities of our world and the incredible variety of people. To have Carol Danvers lead this film allows different perspectives to be seen, and different people to feel welcome into this universe. It was important and necessary that Marvel include a woman, especially after white men named Chris have taken more lead roles across the Marvel Cinematic Universe than women and people of color combined. Full disclosure: I loved this movie. I fell in love when a Skrull screamed at Carol and she screamed right back. I was done. I was in love. The plot points were clear; uncomplicated but nuanced, and the first thirty minutes gave us the primer on who Carol was without going into detail. There’s still some mystery around her story - large swaths of her childhood are hinted at, but never fully explored - her life in the Air Force was related second hand; her time with the Kree was likewise shown, but never dug into. This air of mystery and not-knowing played well into the themes of the movie, in the ways that Captain Marvel explored the idea of a woman coming to know herself and her own power. The importance of this film is not necessarily in the success of its marketing, sales, or casting (although all three are important). The emotional arc of Carol Danvers is exceptionally important, but it is also not the key to Captain Marvel . Carol’s development was one of personal discovery but she - fundamentally, as a person and a character - did not change from the beginning of the film to the end. For a movie like this, shoehorned into a strange 10-year, 20-film long timeline, we knew that Captain Marvel had to show something more to the audience than just another superhero on the screen. For Marvel, this film and Carol Danvers in particular, had to represent a brand of feminism and women superheroes in a way they had never attempted before. They didn’t hold back with Carol’s character. She was strong, smart, confident, and above all, playful. Carol had banter for days, and her fast-talking, quippy, devil-may-care attitude was a refreshing change from our other Marvel heroes. She didn’t have to fight to get her powers, she had them from the jump, and she wasn’t afraid to use them. In this film, she wasn’t overshadowed or impacted by Steve Roger’s regret, or Iron Man’s grandstanding, or Ant-Man’s kitsch. Carol worked on screen because she was fun without the backstory strings attached. The power of Carol’s story was not in the nuances of her character, or how sassy she was, but in the way that women and those who have had a female experience were allowed to empathize with Carol - with her struggles, with her anger, with her emotions, with her joy, and ultimately, with her sheer, absolute power. The strength of Carol was her versatility, the way that every woman in the audience knew her, the way that we could imprint on her, and color our own experiences over what we were seeing on screen. Her power was our power, and while Marvel was heavy-handed with the girl power moments, they were not explicitly rooted in sexism. While it is obvious that these girl power moments were coded within sexist frames - a young girl driving a go-cart too fast, an Air Force recruit making a jump as people jeered - ultimately, they were not focused on the idea that people didn’t believe she could do it because she was a woman. It was never a test of Carol versus a man, or Carol versus another woman. It was always Carol testing herself, pushing herself further. It makes sense then, that at the end of the film when a man challenges Carol on his terms, she fights on hers, and then informs him in the most Girl Power moment of the movie, “I don’t need to prove anything to you.” The framing of these scenes did not seek to imply that Carol was powerful because she was a woman, but instead because she was a strong person. This movie - overlaid with moments like a man on a motorbike telling Carol to smile and the recognition of the restrictions placed on women in the Air Force during the 80s - provides a generalized female experience that then helped color the moments throughout the film when Carol fights back. People who doubt her are proven wrong, over, and over, and over. To show that in a film, where many of the people doubting her are men, is incredibly cathartic. Captain Marvel does not ignore what women face, and in this movie, Marvel could not afford to ignore it. This movie shows that women are people and it does not try to dress Carol up as a fantasy, despite the fantastic power she wields. Carol is never made weak, and if she is restrained, it’s not for long. She is strong and powerful, and she is a woman. She could have been anyone, but they made her strong. Carol Danvers is the hero we needed to see because of the fact that women see ourselves in her. Her story has a new iteration every time someone views it. Every woman knows what it’s like to hear men tell them not to try, every woman knows what it’s like to be told to smile. We have been socialized since we were ten years old to be careful, because we are never assumed to be powerful, and we are assumed to be in danger. Women are not comfortable in this world, because we live in a world that has told us we are not safe. When Carol Danvers stands up after being knocked down - because she always stands up - it’s not just Carol standing up. It’s not just her. It’s every woman standing up after being knocked down. She is every girl who stood up. Every one of us who wants the power to yell, scream, and punch our way out of the problems and humiliations of society’s effect on women. Captain Marvel is not only allowed to do this on screen, but she gets to be happy about it. She gets to have fun. She fucks with it. And watching that happen is seriously, just amazing. Women are rarely, if ever, allowed to delight in their own power. They are rarely allowed to revel in it. Even in Wonder Woman , Diana didn’t get to bask in her own spotlight; she was so focused on her duty that she didn’t get a chance to have fun. Carol, however, was having a riot. She smiled as she flew, she smirked as she punched Yon-Rogg during their first sparring match, she giggled with Monica as she got a new costume skin. Carol laughed as she slammed into Kree ships, and she grinned as she flew into space to give Ronan the biggest, brightest, mightiest 'fuck off' of his entire life. Ultimately, this show of power is the perfect way to end the movie. Earth’s mightiest hero shows that she’s not only powerful, but empathetic and caring. She’s kind, and she will do whatever she can to end suffering in her universe. She’s not afraid to throw a punch, but you really have to deserve it. Captain Marvel proved that when women are allowed to write their experiences over cosmic battles, when we are in front of and behind the camera, when we are allowed power and freedom within our stories, women are just as powerful as men. And you know what? In Carol’s case, we’re sometimes a little bit better. Linda H. Codega Linda is a twenty-something millennial living and working in the Hudson Valley who loves fandom, pop culture, sailing, tarot cards, and crying in movie theaters. If you want to listen to them talk about pop culture, the repeating cycles of media, and those stories that we can’t get out of our heads, you can listen to their podcast, Retronym , on iTunes. #Newsletter #CaptainMarvel #Article #Superheroes #Marvel #Disney #BrieLarson #LindaCodega #Feminism

When James Gunn was fired last year, I had mixed feelings about it. In the summer of 2018, Alt-Right websites had unearthed long-deleted tweets penned by the Guardians of the Galaxy director before he had ever signed with Disney. Now, that Disney has rehired Gunn to direct the third Guardians of the Galaxy movie, I am absolutely sure that this time Disney has made the wrong decision. At the end of the day, I wasn’t upset that Gunn was dropped from the Disney roster. I never saw his mark as a director shine through in his films. True, the first Guardians movie was fun and had its moments of brilliance, but there is no doubt that Marvel’s “design by committee” approach had a great deal of influence over the aesthetic of the world and the writing itself. Although divisive, many considered Gunn’s firing surprising but appropriate. For many women, survivors, and other marginalized groups, it finally felt like there was an immediate and direct consequence for a rich white man’s bad behavior. It didn’t matter who his friends were, what his vita looked like, or what meek apology he issued. There was proof that he had said things that were by all decent moral standards, inexcusable, and he was not going to be absolved. Gunn also chose to approach the controversy with decency and humility; he owned up to his mistakes and did not blame anyone else for what he had written. However, none of that erases the fact that Gunn did write those jokes, whether or not he did it to be intentionally “provocative.” At the time of his weak statement of apology, he more or less stated that he was disappointed that he was making jokes that didn’t land, even though he admitted that they were offensive and inappropriate. Even if Disney’s response in 2018 was self-righteous, trigger-happy, and possibly premature, it felt like the right thing to do, especially during a cultural moment in time during which Gunn’s tweets made their way around the internet. As everything came to light, I firmly felt that Disney had made the right decision. To issue a statement of support or ignore the implications of a man making pedeophilic jokes, while he was also directing and writing children’s movies, (in the early aughts Gunn was penning much of the Scooby-Doo franchise, but we won’t hold that against him) would speak to an inherent hypocrisy within the large company. Firing Gunn was the easy solution, and it was not uncalled for. Despite the fact that Gunn originally made the offending tweets ten years ago, we cannot ignore that they were just as damaging as if he had posted them in 2018. People still read them, the tweets were still distributed, and there were many people out there willing to defend and excuse what Gunn had said by saying it was all “just a joke.” It is a proven social fact that jokes normalize action and thought processes. The reach and effect of those jokes ten years ago was nothing compared to the effect of those statements circulating in 2018, even divorced from the original author’s approval. To ignore this is to remove Gunn’s social standing and reach, people’s love of scandal, and Disney’s platform from the equation entirely. Knowing all this and still agreeing with Disney’s original reaction, I wouldn’t say that this was the only “correct” decision that Disney could have made. However, in the #MeToo moment, when Disney needed to make a point about what had been said, and whether or not Gunn would be forgiven, it felt as if multiple disgusting jokes about child sexual assault, abuse, and rape was an easy line in the sand for Disney to draw. However, at the end of the day, Gunn fell up. What had started as a sense of relief - maybe not because of Gunn directly, but because of the swift and seemingly unyielding nature of a large corporation’s decision to punish a man who had done something inexcusable - turned quickly sour. He almost immediately snagged a gig at DC as the new Suicide Squad director, the cast of Guardians rallied around him, and it seemed like everywhere on the internet there was a debate about what was said, who said it, and where the revelations came from. All this makes the fact that Disney has rehired Gunn even more frustrating. Gunn was obviously doing fine, the inappropriate jokes he had made hadn’t affected his career, and he still had all of his friends rooting for him. Most notable was Dave Bautista, who threatened to walk if Gunn wasn’t taken back. No matter what your opinion is of Gunn’s firing, the backtracking of a large corporation who designs and publishes material primarily for children is frustrating, sad, and ultimately, the worst part of all of this. Gunn has never been a victim, and thanks to Disney he never will be. He is, right now, an emblem of hypocrisy. What he said a decade ago and what he said last year do not matter. The bigger problem is that Disney looked at their hardline stance, one ultimately based in morals and value judgements, and said to themselves: money is more important to us than respectability. Despite the division of whatever court of public opinion exists, Gunn has proven that if you are (or appear) contrite enough, have powerful friends, and some credit to spend in the community, you can get what you want. For Disney to essentially say that they can forgive making jokes about child sexual assault and normalizing abuse and rape as long as the person who said those things (no matter when they were said) is sorry, is wildly inappropriate and damaging. Whether or not Disney made the right decision in 2018 is contested. I think it was the correct thing to do, but I recognize that there could have been other methods of handling the issues without firing Gunn. So, although there were multiple right decisions last summer, I do not think that firing Gunn was wrong. What Disney did in 2019 however, was absolutely the wrong decision. Firing someone for pedophilic jokes and then rehiring them is never a good look, no matter what. Disney has damaged their credibility and, in the same move, realigned its power structure to support and benefit powerful white men. At this point, James Gunn is not the problem or the issue; Disney is. As such a huge company with massive cultural impact, Disney has a responsibility to the public at large. Rehiring a man who has created such controversy, who has made remarks that are, (by the least of all standards) inappropriate, whose career has not been ruined or even markedly affected by this decision, is baffling and disappointing. In the long run, there is so little to gain from rehiring Gunn, but so much lost. Disney’s integrity feels lacking, and at the end of the day, the company is rewarding a successful, powerful, rich, established man who could just as easily have been replaced by any number of worthy, deserving, and talented creatives. It is clear that Disney prioritizes its inner circle over its fans, its morals, and over anyone who has ever been a victim of child abuse. Culturally, Disney is more than a corporation, it is a storyteller and a narrative builder, and its position in our lives as a media maker is not insignificant. This is not surprising but disheartening, and I have no doubt that in the future this entire incident will not color Disney in a good light. There is nothing wrong with a company admitting that they made the wrong decision, but it is more honorable, when looking at the broader scope of the decision, to admit to making an impulsive decision for the right reasons, and sticking to it. Linda H. Codega Linda is a twenty-something millennial living and working in the Hudson Valley who loves fandom, pop culture, sailing, tarot cards, and crying in movie theaters. If you want to listen to them talk about pop culture, the repeating cycles of media, and those stories that we can’t get out of our heads, you can listen to their podcast, Retronym , on iTunes. #Newsletter #LindaCodega #JamesGunn #Disney #Marvel #Article #ThinkPiece #Opinion

(This article, while primarily about Amazon's The Boys, does contain a major spoiler for the finale of HBO's Game of Thrones. This small section has been labelled.) Satire has to be earned. You have to work for it. In the new Amazon Original series, The Boys , (adapted from the DC/Dynamite-published comics of the same name) the satire is heavy-handed and over-the-top. In fairness, it has to be. If it’s not spelled out onscreen, there will always be people who will assume the sincerity of the work. In this way, at least, The Boys is a successful satire of the superhero genre and American militarism. In the show, Vought Industries, is a megacorp that controls (and creates) superheroes, turning vigilante justice into a multi-million dollar business, packaging heroes into consumables. It’s all for sale and used to drive profits to shareholders via comic books, goodwill public service stunts, movies, TV shows, action figures, late-night talk show appearances, the works. Imagine if Chris Evans actually did run around in a star-spangled onesie, fought crime, and still had the publicity schedule Infinity War demanded. That’s the world we’re introduced to, and honestly, it works. So that part is good. The work that The Boys does to convince us of a justice system that is both centered around individual narratives and a capitalist economy of resources, is an excellent critique of both the superhero genre and the state of our current justice system. The superheroes and Vought Industries are shown to be easily corruptible and inclined towards self-preservation at the expense of others’ lives and ideals. In a world where ratings are the only thing that matters to the corporation, no superhero on the Vought roster can be shown to be anything but just, ethical, and full of screen appeal. In the show this leads to cover-ups, public appearances at religious tent revivals, and a whole team of spin doctors, creating a narrative full of tension and distrust, where no one is a hero. The social critiques inherent in fictional systems of vigilante justice are easy to follow. Idolizing heroes who have powers allow those heroes to act in a way that exploits people without power. The main superhero is named Homelander (played by Antony Starr), has Superman’s powers but none of his morals, and is walking around with the stars and stripes on his back as a cape; it’s a pretty obvious satire of Captain America, the American justice system, and the military in all of its forms. Unfortunately, the clear cut critique of society’s hero narratives (both fictional and actual) does not apply to women. I caught on early that women in The Boys were being treated differently than men. Within the first few episodes, women were killed off, sexed up, and sexually assaulted, simply for existing within the same sphere as men. I was willing to give this angle a pass for a while, as it looked like they were still being critical of the source material. There was a pretty clear punch at the male-gaze driven costume designs that women have lamented about for years when after rescuing a woman from a sexual assault, Starlight (Erin Moriarty), is given a ‘makeover’ by Vought, putting her into a skintight bathing suit, a far cry from the more modest costume she had designed for herself. As the episodes went on, however, it became more and more obvious that The Boys wasn’t doing enough to critique these imbalanced hierarchies. The absurdity and satire applied to men and the larger structures of power did not apply to women and their sexuality. Over and over again, women were shown to be valued within the narrative almost exclusively for their sex appeal, their relationships to men, and who they had sex with. Every time a woman entered the story or was given any significant agency within the narrative she was consistently assigned value based on how sexy she was, or who she was having sex with. There is no woman who is safe from a man’s desire, and it’s almost exclusively this desire that drives the men in the story. While it is hard, almost impossible, to define what is and what isn't satire, it’s easy to identify when the male gaze drives narratives around the satirical treatment of women and women’s issues. Often this version of satire is an exaggerated demonstration of a woman’s dangerous sexuality. These narratives can come out in a lot of ways. Some examples are plot points that center around birth control and family planning, consent and relationships, objectification, and using women in pain as growth points for men in the narrative. Dangerous sexuality is based on the implication that women are threatening to men when men feel emotionally compromised by women or entitled to them. The satire in The Boys often tries to engage with this absurdity, but falls well short of elevating the horrific nature of this reality. Simply adding in these elements does not constitute an effective critical look at the issues of sexual abuse or control, as The Boys usually stops well short of the ridiculous and settles for a passing moment of increased tension with no real payoff for the abuses suffered by women. The two prominent examples of an absurdly satirical dangerous sexuality in the show are when Popclaw, a retired ex-hero, seduces her landlord in exchange for rent. She proceeds to dress up in her old uniform, and while graphically getting head from her landlord, literally drives his head into the floor, flattening his skull. The second instance takes place at a superhero collateral damage support group, where a man recounts the time when he was having sex with a woman who could turn into ice, and as she climaxed, she froze his dick off. While both of these examples are absolutely ridiculous, both women are seen as a danger to men because of their sexuality. Instead of punching up at the patriarchal standards of these absurdist situations, The Boys instead enforces the dominant culture’s point of view that women and their sex drives are dangerous, and men should be afraid of women when they experience desire. The satire fails because we are not able to separate the exploitation of female desire from the commentary of men. The larger problem here is that these moments are played for laughs while underscoring the prevailing notions that already exist within our current society. There is no critical look into the ways that men view women, and we only see examples of the idea that a women’s pleasure is dangerous. Works like The Handmaid’s Tale, Vox , and The Power all do a great job of showcasing women-driven satire of sexual assault and patriarchal control narratives that have fueled this trope of dangerous sexuality. These books underscore the problem of redistribution of power within traditional hierarchies and clearly show the reactions of previously powerful groups when authority is given to a formerly marginalized group. Knowing all this, and also (again) recognizing that defining satire is a difficult thing to do, the satirical failures of The Boys still shine through clearly when viewed through a feminist lens. Whenever a woman was sexualized or shown to enact agency in any kind of situation where her desire is at the forefront of her decision-making, The Boys treated her as a threat to men’s power, and almost immediately punished her within the narrative. This usually happened in specifically sexual or sexual-adjacent ways, as if to re-emphasize the lack of power women hold. Starlight and Maeve were the two women that were directly punished for their sexuality, rather than becoming outright victims of it. Starlight in particular was poorly rendered by the narrative, in which many traumatic events during her story were treated as standard plot points rather than truly absurdist satire. In order: she was sexually assaulted after revealing that she “used to have a crush on [The Deep],” she was spied on in the bathroom by Translucent, she was put into an objectifying outfit and turned into a caricature for the televangelist hero-worshipers, gaslit and lied to by Hughie after opening up to him, and finally, she was morally strong-armed into helping the Boys after they used her to get information on the rest of the Seven. It’s a lot to handle, and all of this is related to sexual objectification or another iteration of dangerous sexuality. Starlight only gets a few moments where she can react to these incidents of abuse. While some of her agency has girl-power elements, they pale in comparison to some of the absolute no-holds-barred power scenes from Wonder Woman and Captain Marvel . All of her moments of agency come out of situations where she has been abused or gaslit into a different reality. Starlight is constantly on the defensive, and she never really gets to make her own choices, instead, she is constantly working within the boundaries that others have set up for her. Even when she helps Hughie and attacks A-Train, Starlight is still working within a moral coda that she was basically tricked into agreeing with. This was just another situation where she was forced to choose the lesser of two evils. Although shown to be powerful and exceptionally strong, Starlight never quite reaches the sheer Big Dick Energy of Carol Danver’s “I don’t need to prove myself to you,” and we never quite reach a level of critique of the systems she’s working in, making Starlight another victim of The Boys’ misguided attempts at a Strong Female Character. With Maeve, there’s not as much to explain, as she wasn’t nearly the main character that Starlight was. However, it’s implied that she is a lesbian, or at least was in a long term lesbian relationship that ended when she entered the Seven. There’s a suggestion that Maeve’s previous intimate relationship with Homelander was produced, much like the rest of the Seven’s stories, as a PR campaign. The fact that The Boys closeted a lesbian and portrayed her as straight to the audience and the world is a clear sign that women’s sexuality is only beneficial when it serves men, and not when it serves women. This is written off as normal and justified, reflecting the tropes and real world examples where powerful, gay women attach themselves intimately to powerful men to make themselves seem safer, tamed, and less likely to be dangerous to other men. While they could have explored the repression of sexuality and what this says about queer people in the world of The Boys , there’s no critical analysis of this in the text. The Boys instead presents closeting as necessary in a world where the public would never accept a gay woman as a hero. They instead dig themselves in deeper, with Maeve’s personal justifications acting as a plot point rather than pursuing the satire they had clearly lined themselves up for. This story could have been another fantastic opportunity for critique, but it’s played so straight (literally) that the absurdity and terror of the situation never occurs. In addition to these narratives, both Maeve and Starlight were shown to be the only two members of The Seven with any moral compunctions or ethical compass. While Homelander, A-Train, and Translucent all objectively use their powers for personal gain and to fulfill their own desires, the two women on the team are the ones that question motives, attempt to change the work culture, and save innocent lives even at the risk of endangering their public image or the image of Vought. All of the burden of humanity lies on them, another dangerous trope wherein women are expected to be the moral compass for men, who are often portrayed as violent, trigger-happy, or impulsive. While these two women were abused during the narrative, most of the time an exhibition of dangerous sexuality meant that women died, or were perceived to be dead, in order to cause emotional trauma to their romantic male partners in their lives. Both Popclaw and Madelyn were killed by their romantic partners after being strung along, gaslit, and lied to by A-Train and Homelander, respectively. Both were killed while in a romantic/semi-romantic embrace, a terrible trope that sees women time and time again betrayed by the people they trust, often while in a vulnerable or abused state. (Spoiler) Game of Thrones came under fire for showcasing a version of this trope when Jon killed Dany in the finale, kissing her just before murdering her. (Spoiler) I shouldn’t have to explain how this kind of abuse is not satirical, but is a pretty direct one-to-one comparison of real-world abuse and trauma. Women should not be portrayed as disposable to add to the emotional trauma of men. This is a sobering reminder of the ways that women are vulnerable in our society, and there’s nothing ridiculous or satirical about men killing women they are intimate partners with. Women entering into a romantic relationship with a man is one of the most dangerous things they can do, as over half of all convicted female homicides are perpetrated by current or former romantic partners . The only time The Boys attempts to showcase the sheer horror of the way that women exist in the real world is when Homelander kills Madelyn. Her death was particularly brutal, but she was shown throughout the series to use her sexuality to manipulate and control Homelander, creating a justification for her death in the minds of the audience. While Madelyn’s death is certainly absurd, (Homelander uses his heat vision to melt her face and brain) the gore does nothing to distract from the fact that she was already tied up, helpless, and going to die; Homelander just wanted to make sure that he was the one to do it. It’s not a good look for a show that has repeatedly prioritized the power men have over women, and the dangers that women evoke when they use their sexuality to seek their own pleasure or create their own agenda. The warning is clear: if a woman ever has emotional power over a man, expect her to die. The other aspect of this is women who die (or are perceived dead), only to serve the plot by adding to the emotional trauma of a man. One example of this is when Robin is killed by A-Train in front of Hughie, which prompts him to join up with the anti-supe vigilante group, the Boys. Robin evokes the typical fridged trope of comic narratives, and nothing is really done to make her more of a person, as she instead only exists in Hughie’s memory as a constant pain point and guilt machine. Frenchie watches the girl he loves, enigmatically named the Female, die by way of a brutal attack from Black Noir. While the Female does recover, it’s very clear that Frenchie was emotionally compromised because of his feelings for her, rather than the value she has as a human being. As the Female doesn’t speak at all during the show, she is the token female in the worst possible way, and never ceases to exist outside of her relationship to Frenchie. I wish I could get behind the satire of the token female in the group, but in this case she never actually does anything except act as a target. The third time this trope turns up is when Billy Butcher (Karl Urban) reveals that he believes Homelander raped and murdered his wife, which has fueled his life of vigilantism for the past several years. He doesn’t even have proof, just a gut feeling. In addition, we never learn anything about his wife, and like Robin, she only exists as a pressure point for Billy’s trauma. In every instance, women are used as motivators to drive men into an emotionally vulnerable state, and none of these three women are truly given agency, a voice, or even a storyline of their own. They exist, quite literally, only to further the storyline and development of men, and to exist in their heads as an idealized object of desire. There was really only one woman who was truly allowed to reclaim her narrative throughout the series. Starlight repeatedly tried to raise her voice, make her opinions heard, and use her narrative and physical power to establish her authority, agency, and agenda. While The Boys does allow for moments when Starlight exhibits strength of character and agency within the series, the overwhelming abuse that she suffers is never fully accounted for. I will admit, the sexual assault storyline for Starlight was relatively well handled, and the subplot between Starlight and The Deep remains one of the strongest arguments for a successful satire of the female experience in The Boys . It’s upsetting, however, that this exception proves the rule. Women are undermined, killed, abused, and almost exclusively used for men’s pleasure or character development throughout the entire show. Although every character had their ups and downs with agency (as any good story will showcase), women in particular suffered a lack of agency at the hands of men, often in direct contact with their intimate partner. It was rarely reversed, and even when The Deep performed his apology video and subsequent exile to Ohio, instead of allowing him to fade into obscurity, we’re forced to watch his own abuse by way of an intimate partner, bringing us back to the dangerous sexuality exhibited by any woman who appears in The Boys . The cycle of intimate abuse, a lack of critical thinking, and the positioning of power dynamics consistently shows women in a bad light, and always reinforces the patriarchal nature of the world without holding it up to critique in the same way that vigilantes and modern justice systems are analyzed within the narrative. These are huge issues. There are good moments that satirically showcase the abuse of women’s sexuality, but ultimately women are disposable, tossed aside, and killed for the furtherance of men’s emotions and storyline. Some of the satire is great, but The Boys still needs to be critical of the work that they are critiquing, and deliberately look at the difference in the way that they have portrayed women’s pain and men’s pain. The difference is the most absurd part, but instead of calling into question the ways in which the system allows women to feel and experience pain, the narrative treats this as status quo, continually emphasizing through repetitive use of tropes and emotionally stunted men that this isn’t a part of the satire, and is simply the best way to move the plot along. The ways in which women are the source of men’s pain, and utilized to that extent, is also played straight. While it’s ridiculous in retrospect to list out all of the ways in which dead women motivate living men, in the show this absurdity was played straight, with this emotional connection to non-characters motivating the main characters of the show to pursue an aggressive antiauthoritarian form of justice, enacting a power fantasy that women are not a part of. This emotional attachment is justified, only subverted, (and just barely) at the end when we realize that Billy’s wife, Rebecca, is alive after all. To this end, his actions were justified, as he now has access once again to the woman he loves. Satire is difficult. It’s going to occasionally fail. The burdens of the superhero/fantasy genre and the ways in which The Boys approach superheroes and justice systems is fairly nuanced and critical, but the struggles of women seem to be an afterthought, paraded out only when necessary, and ignored by the larger narrative. Women are constantly seen as dangerous because of their sexuality and sexual ownership. In addition, every single female character with agency is an object of desire at some point during the series. If it was just a danger because of their inherent power, we might have a different conversation, but it’s actually their sexuality that is seen as a threat to men, power structures, and authority. They should only be desired, but not passionate. Women in emotional pain are either killed or told to get over it. At the end of The Boys , all I could do was reflect on the constant abuses against women in the show, and the ways in which men and women were treated differently by the narrative. The brutal critique of justice and power never allows women to fight for themselves or change the systems of control around them, because doing so would remove agency from men like Billy, Homelander, and Hughie. While Starlight comes closest out of any female character, she is still manipulated and utilized by men for their own purposes. To sate my own curiosity, I quickly dug into the behind-the-camera crew, and I wish I were surprised, but there are twelve executive producers listed, and none of them are women. In addition, there were only four women writing or behind the camera alongside the nine men with director or writing credits. This disparity is harrowing, and it immediately became obvious that nobody looked critically at the way women were treated in the show. It’s absolutely no surprise that Erik Kripke, who has come under scrutiny before for disposable women in his long-running show Supernatural , has floundered once again when it comes to writing women. The satire of The Boys starts out strong but never moves into subversion, and it rarely questions the way in which women are treated. The lack of empathy for female characters makes this show hard to watch and impossible to recommend without warning people about the rampant sexism, homophobia, and abuse. The Boys wanted to be The Authority but ended up as a pale imitation of Watchmen , writing many of the storylines too earnestly to be satire, and never questioning the underlying systems of patriarchal control that are inundated and reinforced throughout the entire series. Give Starlight her own series, hire Anne Cofell Saunders and Rebecca Sonnenshine, and maybe we’ll see a superhero satire that actually values women. Linda H. Codega Linda is a twenty-something millennial living and working in the Hudson Valley who loves fandom, pop culture, sailing, tarot cards, and crying in movie theaters. If you want to listen to them talk about pop culture, the repeating cycles of media, and those stories that we can’t get out of our heads, you can listen to their podcast, Retronym , on iTunes. #Newsletter #Amazon #LindaCodega #Reviews #TheBoys #Superhero #ThinkPiece

Good Omens was released on Amazon (not Netflix) at the end of May and was almost immediately pronounced to be an incredible success, much to the delight of fans and critics. The actors, fun production, impeccably rendered dialogue, and generally tongue-in-cheek undercover satire that Neil Gaiman has made into a personal brand during these adaptations, all came through. The novel was faithfully, although not painstakingly rendered. It was fun, it was lighthearted with dark undertones, it was sweet and hopeful, and most of all, perhaps best of all...it was very, very gay. “But Linda,” you’ll hear someone say, (possibly my friend Greg), “you read the gay into everything. I could get drinks at a bar with John and you’d write erotic friend-fiction about us by the end of the week.” While, fair point Greg, (I do make everything at least a little bit queer), I have to protest in defense of Good Omens . It is in fact, extremely, wildly, without-a-doubt, a love story between an angel and a demon. There are a lot of in-text defenses for just how intimately queer Good Omens is, but the fact is that as a fan, I don’t really care whether or not another fan reads it as queer. I don’t need to be vindicated by other viewers (although it is nice); just ask the -0 people who read my Poe/Luke fanfic a few years ago. I’ll be the first to admit, there is little to no textual support for that one, and yet...there it is. Queer as the day is long. So look, I’m not here to tell anyone that they’re wrong about their interpretations of Good Omens , but if you didn’t come away from that six episode Romeo-and-Juliet romp without thinking to yourself, ‘well they're certainly married,’ I reserve the right to judge you, or at the very least, give you a bit of a side eye. From the text, there are a lot of reasons why you would draw the conclusion that these two otherworldly beings are in love. First, they speak to each other, which no other angel and demon do. They repeatedly run into each other, have each other’s backs throughout history, and frequently perform acts of service for each other. They get drunk with each other, comfort each other, and they were there when it first began, in the garden, when Aziraphale offered the first bit of kindness to Crowley, possibly the first act of its kind that he had ever received. (An interesting turn to note: this is directly inverted from the book, where it is Crowley who shelters Aziraphale from the oncoming storm. Who knows what is meant by any of this, but at the very least we can be confident that this reversal was done for some reason, and absolutely on purpose.) They lie to their superiors, always ending up in just-around the same place at just-around the same time, and they generally go out of their way to be kind to each other, and to be kind to the world around them. This means different things for both of them, of course. For Crowley, it means performing acts of goodness when he is very clearly meant to be wicked. For Aziraphale, this means allowing Crowley to buy him dinner, not judging him, and acting with open love and honesty at every point, and not being above saying, ‘I don’t know’ whenever Crowley questions the ineffable plan. These things, after all, aren’t meant to be understood or interpreted by any single person, not even Agnes Nutter. And in conclusion, if Michael Sheen’s delivery of, “You move too fast for me, Crowley,” doesn’t convince you that at the very least Sheen is playing it as a love story, then I’m sorry, but you need to get your eyes checked, because I saw a demon’s heart break in that scene. I can go into the why’s and how’s of these ineffable husbands later, but another interesting point is that Neil Gaiman, the original co-author, had a hand in this adaption. Not just a finger either, but a whole two hands in the narrative screenwriting pie. Gaiman has shown that with the right amount of leeway, he can create something really incredible. American Gods was a critical hit as well, and besides the fact that Bryan Fuller (remember Hannibal ? Same guy!) was at the helm, Gaiman did a great job of updating the material to meet a modern market. Namely: more women, more people of color, no transphobia even when the opportunities presented themselves, and a central queer relationship. He even said so himself: the TV show is a love story. So look, the original book has been a stalwart in queer fandom for a long time. It was published in the 90’s, and there wasn’t a lot you could get away with in commercial fiction as far as queer implications are concerned. Gaiman has remained relatively tight-lipped about the speculation on sexuality surrounding our beloved demon and angel, but he’s been vocal about a few things. One: that this is a faithful adaptation of the original text, a recreation he thinks, that Terry Pratchett would have been proud of, two: that all interpretations are valid, and that he will not use his privilege as the author to define what people read into his work, and three: that Good Omens in a love story. That should be it, right? The author said that something is a love story, then it is. While I agree on the basis of ‘my characters, my story,’ there’s another level here. What the author intended only matters in as far as how it is presented and prepared. The actual interpretation of the work, what others see in it, what others read onto it, the stories and narratives that we as fans layer over the work, is much more important. The revival of fandom meta that has come out around this new release is truly, widely extraordinary. There are examples of how, in fact, Crowley was always trying to do the right thing, and just pretended to do the bad thing, and how Aziraphale ended up doing the bad thing even while trying to do the right one. An example is when Crowley, in the first episode, convinces Aziraphale that in order to thwart the apocalypse, Aziraphale must mentor young Warlock alongside Crowley, in order to give the human race a fighting chance. Aziraphale was willing to let things just “play out,” which would mean that the son of the Devil on Earth would have only a demon’s influence steering him through puberty. Another good example of this is when Crowley gives humans knowledge, (what can be so bad about that?) and Aziraphale in turn gives them a sword. Not just any sword, but a flaming weapon that was later on shown to exemplify War in all her glory - obviously not a good move on the angel’s part. These reversals and gray areas do very little at all to support my theory that these two metaphysical creatures are very much in love, but it is something fascinating to chew on. Another meta that has gone around, (which isn’t particularly relevant but is endlessly fascinating and truly deserves a place in this article for the sheer brilliance of it), is that maybe, perhaps, as a demon who didn’t fall but “sauntered vaguely downwards,” Crowley was never actually a demon at all. The newest posit floating around is that Crowley is not only an Angel, but is in fact the archangel Raphael. Raphael is one of the foremost angels in the Bible, Talmud, Kabbalah, and the Quran, and he doesn't get a mention even once in either the book or the adaption. Raphael is also the angel of children. Crowley, when hearing about the flood that would destroy all of humanity, asked “even the children?” In addition, as the patron of travelers and happy meetings, Raphael-as-Crowley starts drawing in more merit. There is not a single scene after their initial meeting where Aziraphale is not delighted, entranced, or ultimately grateful that Crowley has shown up, either to save his ass, his books, or his cover. Lastly, to get particularly literary about it, in Dante’s Paradise Lost , it is the angel Raphael who was sent to warn Adam a second time (following God’s warning) about the dangers of the tree of good and evil. Maybe, in Good Omens , Raphael took a quick bite of the Apple first, just to see what all the fuss was about. While very little of this is relevant to the main crux of this article - which is that Good Omens is queer as hell babes - I wanted to point out that while this met textual interpretation is bonkers, it’s also...valid. That’s the point. That no matter what, pulling evidence from the text to make a sweeping generalization about the text itself has always been a stalwart of criticism through the ages. People are allowed to get as absolutely crazy as they want with their theories and conclusions, as long as there is evidence in the text. Even then, evidence in this case is a fast and loose term. It can be as simple as the way that Aziraphale is so very, very calm, when he’s getting manhandled by Crowley in the former abbey of the chattering nuns (interuppted by the nun with a quick, “Sorry to break up an intimate moment,” - that’s gay boyos!), or as obvious as the way that Aziraphale gives Crowley a deeply appreciative twice-over in Regency France, smiling like he’s just received a very good meal. There’s also the scene where Aziraphale is being accosted by his Angelic superiors for “consorting with the enemy,” and Uriel calls Crowley “Aziraphale’s boyfriend,” and instead of correcting Uriel, Aziraphle just smiles like an absolute fool because Uriel intimated that he and his crush were dating when in reality he should have been denying the accusation and trying very hard not to make his superiors suspicious, angry, or reactionary. Evidence can be as small as the way Crowley blows away the stain from Aziraphale’s jacket or as deeply moving as Crowley’s absolute breakdown when he thinks his friend has been killed. He gets riotously drunk and considers moving out of the solar system just to escape the memories he made with his ex. If that's not classic rebound behavior I don’t know what is. He then goes on (after Aziraphale gets ghostly with him) to promise to go wherever Aziraphale is, without regard for the impending apocalypse or the state of either of their sides. So here’s the kicker: It’s great that Neil Gaiman is supportive of multiple interpretations of his work. It’s cool that he’s an ally, not just to fans, but specifically to queer fans. It’s also cool that Michael Sheen is so supportive of fanfic and fanart that he has given us all the best defense of fanfiction I’ve ever seen from a mainstream actor. It’s cool, but it’s not the word of God, if you know what I’m saying. The problem we’re running into is that it’s all subtext. It’s all open to interpretation. Crowley and Aziraphale are never explicitly shown to be romantically intimate, they don’t speak such things into existence, and there is nothing on the page, in the text, or on the screen that resembles a physical intimacy, besides that of long standing frenemies. In order to determine our beliefs about their relationship, most of us have to read in between the lines. (That’s queer love for you though.)The author may have written it one way (queer as hell), and the actors may have “played it” one way (deeply in love), but at the end of the day, all we’re dealing with is interpretation. And interpretation is always, way up for grabs. To review: the queerness of Aziraphale and Crowley is not necessarily up for debate here, as it is in fact, all relative. I’m not trying to convince anyone of it. I know how I read the book, how I viewed the show, and I’m pretty convinced that these two characters are about as in love as you can be without being explicit about it. What I’m more interested in is showing people, (possibly people like my friend Greg, who is one of my favorite people out there, but incredibly heterosexual), is that queerness has so long existed inside interpretation, that many queer people regard queer interpretation and rewriting it to be just as important as the canon material. Ultimately, though, it is important to be able to watch something and see how there could be interpretation away from the heteronormative constraints under which it might have been made. What you choose to read into a work can (and should!) differ, but recognizing that there are different interpretations is extremely important, and even necessary to allow queer people, people of color, and those of marginalized genders to see themselves in work that has not been traditionally welcoming. We must understand that the stories we see are the stories we live out. They're interpretations and understandings of ourselves, that we see reflected in the larger society. To deny those interpretations is almost as if we deny others the right to read themselves into the story, to be the hero, to save the world. Representation, even implied, matters. Aziraphale and Crowley may not be lovers, or married, or even sure about where to get their next meal after the Apocalypse was averted, but I know that they are in love, and sometimes, love is ineffable. Linda H. Codega Linda is a twenty-something millennial living and working in the Hudson Valley who loves fandom, pop culture, sailing, tarot cards, and crying in movie theaters. If you want to listen to them talk about pop culture, the repeating cycles of media, and those stories that we can’t get out of our heads, you can listen to their podcast, Retronym , on iTunes. #Newsletter #Review #GoodOmens #LindaCodega #Amazon #NeilGaiman

Dear Keanu Reeves lovers, Point Break cult leaders, people who have watched any of the John Wick films, and those of us who remember The Matrix fondly, (but not fondly enough to use the term “red pill” in any context, ironically or not); this is an article for you. You’ve been warned. I love my doe-eyed, dark haired, spider-limbed baby. Keanu Reeves is a gift, and I’m here to stan. Let’s begin with the film that really jump started Keanu’s career 25 years ago: Speed . A largely unobtrusive film by critical measure, it’s an uncomplicated, bright, popcorn action thriller; it was immensely successful at the box office. It kicked Keanu to the next level of actor. After Speed , Keanu Reeves became a household name, despite having been around in Hollywood for a while. He was a commonly-stated 90s teen heartthrob, following his first well-known role as Ted Logan in Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure in 1989. Speed , however, jumped him from second-man material (in 1991, he starred in Point Break opposite Patrick Swayze, who was in the prime of his acting career) into a leading action star. So here’s where we fall in love with Keanu Reeves. Collectively, take a minute to swoon and compose yourself. It’s a lot. After starring in some relatively mediocre action films throughout the 90s, (many of which are forgettable despite having plot lines that fed on both post-Cold War and Y2K fears) Keanu is cast as Neo in The Matrix . The movie dropped in 1999 and it’s a sure thing; Keanu is set for life. He’s back: not only becoming a household name, but an international treasure, a regular on the con circuit, a cult hero, an icon, and an undeniable Hollywood star. And despite all of this, Keanu stays humble. There are so many stories out around this time about how grounded, kind, and soft-spoken Keanu Reeves is when interacting with fans and random people on the street. He signs receipts at movie theaters, poses for photos, and keeps working hard. During this time, (the early 2000’s) Keanu also suffers a deep personal loss, and subsequently retreats from the spotlight. Although he put a short pause on appearing in public for a while, there is no rest for Reeves after The Matrix . The rest of Reeves’ filmography is varied and expansive. He does indies, romcoms, supernatural adventures, and the rest of The Matrix films. You can read about it on IMDB; I won’t get into it much more, except to say that I loved Constantine . It was underrated and perfect. Everyone should go watch Constantine . I’m really here to talk about how much I love Keanu Reeves. For a long time, some viewers complained about his presence on screen - his dryness, his directness, the strange subtly to his acting that could be forced or intentional. The truth is, he can do a few characters exceptionally well and it’s really all we should ask of him. The savior types, authorities without authority, the rebels with a cause, those are the characters Keanu Reeves was built for and damn, does that man get at it. He’s so earnest and sincere that he can sometimes come across as open-faced on screen, but that’s just it. We trust him. He’s got something to his presence that is completely believable, and he just needs the right role to capitalize on that candor. There’s a boy next door charm to Keanu that hasn’t worn off in forty years. The man is simply straight-up adorable. He’s also super cute. Just like an attractive man. He’s not Dwayne Johnson kind of buff (but who is?) but he’s got the goods. The guns. Nice legs. A good body. Tall as hell. He’s an adorable meme-boy, and instead of ignoring, “Keanu Looking Sad on a Park Bench,” that genius, that stand-up dude who’s always willing to poke fun at himself, made sure to start another meme with “Keanu Looking Like a Ray of God-Damn Sunshine.” So what if filming John Wick means he’s got a permanently stupid haircut, who hasn’t had those before? It’ll grow out. It’s ridiculous but it still looks good. It’s as if his hair is saying, “We can’t do anything wrong right now guys. Sure this looks like a fifteen year old growing out a bob. Sure, we would look better in a man bun. Yes, there is a little too much grease on us right now, but we need to be on our flow for the rest of our short, dead-cell little lives because we can’t disappoint Keanu.” What I’m trying to say is that Reeves is looking great. Amazing even. He’s attractive, he’s always been attractive, and I’ll go to the grave with this. And honestly? We’re entering prime thirst-trap years for Keanu. The man is swiftly turning into zaddy material. He was a secondary star in Netflix’s new rom-com special Always Be My Maybe , where he played a bizarre version of himself as Ali Wong’s boyfriend for a few hot minutes on screen. Honestly, his scenes made the movie, kicking it up from a funny movie to an honest laugh-out-loud comedy. He’s great, y’all. The movie is hilarious, but it’s also just worth watching to get to Keanu being wildly charming, totally obtuse, and ridiculously over-the-top attractive on screen. In Always Be My Maybe , Keanu was given a chance to capitalize on his brand of self-deprecating, tongue-in-cheek humor that has peppered his movies and his interviews. When Randall Park, a former west coast rapper, asked if they could use his name in the end credits, in a song titled, “I Punched Keanu Reeves,” Keanu wanted to make sure that Randall’s movie was actually being celebrated, rather than just allowing his name more screen time. Class act, Keanu. Adding to the general sweetness that is Keanu Reeves is the fact that he’s a wholesome boy. A good man. There is no end to the stories of Keanu taking care of fans, both before and after the Matrix series. He’s down-to-earth, donates money, lives without stirring up waves or making problematic statements, (I think it’s because he doesn’t have a Twitter account. That’s probably it) and is just, in general, a sweetheart. I’ve also just been informed (God bless you, Tumblr) that Keanu Reeves is in the theatrical trailer for Cyberpunk 2077 and will actually be in the video game itself. We’re truly living in a golden age of Keanu Reeves appreciation. Whatever Bruce Willis was in the 90s, Keanu is going to be in the 2020s. Except sexier, and with better hair, obviously. The trailer for Cyberpunk 2077 alone is enough to sell me on the dumb thing and I don’t even own a compatible system for the game. I’m still putting it on preorder. Let me know when someone starts a Twitch stream of Cyberpunk 2077 , because I’m ready for it. So thanks Keanu Reeves. You’re doing some excellent work and I appreciate all of it. I hope everyone else does too. Linda H. Codega Linda is a twenty-something millennial living and working in the Hudson Valley who loves fandom, pop culture, sailing, tarot cards, and crying in movie theaters. If you want to listen to them talk about pop culture, the repeating cycles of media, and those stories that we can’t get out of our heads, you can listen to their podcast, Retronym , on iTunes. #Newsletter #KeanuReeves #LindaCodega #Article #PointBreak #JohnWick2 #Keanu #Stan

Robby is joined by Jeremy Kolodziejski to chat about the documentary covering the rise and fall of the legendary internet meme, Pepe the Frog, and Matt Furie, the unwitting creator of the misused and misunderstood icon. Listen on....

Jack and Robby are joined by guest, Bernadette Gorman-White, to talk about the odd and beautiful new film, i'm thinking of ending things , from noted Softy Mad Man ©, Charlie Kaufman. Listen on....

Jack and Robby discuss the labor of love that is the third installment to the Bill and Ted franchise, and speak on why these movies are so special and feel so needed now more than ever. Listen on....

Mike Burdge and Robby Anderson continue their journey through the films of John Carpenter, this time stopping by one of his most beloved cult classics, Big Trouble in Little China , and the immensely under-appreciated Prince of Darkness . Listen on....

This is my first year participating in Story Screen's top 10 lists, and I couldn’t be more overwhelmed! 2018 was a whirlwind of new responsibilities: life-changing doors opened, allowing me to shed former versions of myself, plunging into the unknown with a vigor I did not realize I could muster. With my day to day undertaking a major shift, and having moments for solace become few and far far between, the task of compiling this list was the necessary slow down I needed. In retrospect, the movies I chose were mainly comprised of female forces undergoing their own forms of metamorphosis, with some sprinkling in of good, solid entertainment. Thank you Story Screen for the opportunity to pay homage to 2018, and cheers to the new year ahead! 10. Red Sparrow Red Sparrow may portray itself as an espionage flick, loaded with sexual overtures and a dizzying level of double agent twists, but in reality, this is a movie about Jennifer Lawrence. As one of her first roles picked up since the 2014 hacking scandal where private images of our starlet were smeared across the internet, it seems that Lawrence is taking ownership of her body and what she does with it. Her nude debut, though in the midst of an oppressive and objectifying theme, is handled artfully with just the right amount of censored shots and dignity. I commend Lawrence as an artist making this bold choice, reclaiming herself for all to see. 9. A Quiet Place What might surprise some who understand my proclivity towards the ethereal and feminine (in terms of visuals) is that I love a good horror flick. Granted, I might watch the majority of them through my fingers, but a supernatural mystery is my bread and (vegan) butter. The main draw to seeing A Quiet Place was purely due to the fact that part of Main Street Beacon and our local Natural Market was shut down for filming. Familiar faces would gather around to catch a glimpse of director and leading man, John Krasinski, or his off and on-screen wife, Emily Blunt. I had to see what all of the fuss was about, and wound up pleasantly surprised. In a post-apocalyptic reality, silence has never screamed so loudly as a young family adapts to live amongst vicious predators with a heightened sense of hearing. It’s incredible how amplified the terror factor becomes when the audience is stripped of necessity. 8. A Star is Born As the fourth iteration of a story dating back to the 1930’s, A Star is Born stands alone despite its deeply imbedded roots. Bradley Cooper wears many hats, playing Jackson Maine, a rocker with stereotypical drinking problems and a fading career, and as director, breathing new life into a piece that’s been done, and done again. Balancing Maine’s self-implosion, we have Ally, portrayed by Lady Gaga in her film debut. Ally is fresh to the music scene, packing an inherent star quality, and soon becomes Maine’s lover. Cooper takes us on an emotional ride as Ally rises to fame and Maine crashes, a portrayal of the pitfalls of fame that is both raw and genuine feeling. Quickly becoming a 2018 favorite among audiences, A Star is Born left us with a song in our hearts. 7. Black Panther Considered one of the year’s best films, I would be remiss in neglecting to mention Black Panther , a superhero movie that supersedes its own genre. As someone who thoroughly enjoys action flicks, that’s the lens I had initially watched it through, to my own detriment. I screened it from the comfort of my home, alone with my cat and found it to be a wonderful “superhero” film, but thought the arch to be somewhat cookie cutter. After chatting with a good friend who saw it in theaters, in a swell of people whose energy was palpable, I reeled myself in and began to seriously consider what this film really is. Black Panthe r is the hammer shattering the glass ceiling. Black Panther is a representation the likes of which we rarely see in pop culture. Black Panther is not simply a “superhero movie,” it is a movement. 6. The Favourite As January lagged on, I knew my time to see The Favourite was running out, particularly if it was to make this list. An absurd contemporary twist to what might be questionable as a “period piece,” I was thrilled to catch a screening. Intrigue, lust, and double crossings set in 18th century England (I’ve always been a sucker for drama and opulent attire) The Favourite did not disappoint. A strange world whirling around, anchoring acts from Olivia Colman, Rachel Weisz and Emma Stone, is emphasized by Robbie Ryan’s cinematography, along with musical scores ranging from grand to experimental. This female fueled power struggle is the corseted tragicomedy 2018 needed. 5. The Ballad of Buster Scruggs Having only maintained theater residency for a week, a now Netflix streaming The Ballad of Buster Scruggs might spit at the notion of inherent silver screen glamour with its raw Western appeal. A compilation of six grim folktales, the Coen brothers dangle before us isolated experiences in the same world and quickly dismantle the idea of stability – you learn right away not to become too attached to our leads. The frontier is a plain we’ve visited before; we’ve all met at high noon to watch as the man in white wins and the man in black falls, but what if everyone dies (or close to it)? What if it’s all senseless? What if that fact is kind of funny? A black comedy on horseback, Buster Scruggs came riding into my living room one sunny afternoon with a ditty and, at no easy feat, chuckled off into the bleakest of nights. 4. Annihilation A suggestion led me into “the Shimmer,” and while I’ve never been too partial towards the science fiction genre, Annihilation offers up an equal amount of fantasy and beauty to avoid any form of clinical density. Opening with a meteor striking a lighthouse, “Helplessly Hoping” by Crosby, Stills and Nash seems to be an unfit choice of song, though the words “they are one person. They are two alone. They are three together. They are for each other,” echoes throughout the movie. Like peeling away the layers of a dream, we find cutout moments which inspire us to pay close attention to Lena’s (Natalie Portman) relationships. In the present, Lena is being questioned about her time in “the Shimmer,” (a large portion of rain forest affected by meteor emissions) but our story takes place within her memories. Just as dreams and memories morph and meld, our mainly female cast succumbs to environmental and physical evolution; they become nothing, they become everything. There is a depth to Annihilation that would be impossible to reach in just a few sentences. Go see it for yourself. 3. Suspiria Suspiria had large shoes to fill as a “remake” of the 1977 horror classic, which moreover acted as an expansion on a surreal and dark world of cult-ish dance and blood magic – that’s right, blood magic. Seemingly removed from time and grounded in the bizarre, the viewer is trapped in beautiful insanity. Fragmented scene cuts, overstated audio, garish visuals and an undulating plot line left me spinning. A prestigious dance academy located in Berlin acts as a front for a witch’s coven, where seemingly innocent Susie (Dakota Johnson) had dreamed of attending all of her life; The Academy is also the backdrop of her severe metamorphosis. While the arch of the story is compelling within itself, the camera work is what harkens back to true 70’s cerebral and visceral terror. Ironically, the film is a rebirth ingraining the notion that we cannot escape our past – certainly not for the faint of heart. 2. Roma Roma pulled me back to Earth with a saturated dose of reality. A year in the life of housekeeper Cleo (newcomer Yalitza Aparicio) is chronicled through a wide-angle lens, and despite the lack of color, we are offered lush vibrancy. Tending to the daily needs of an affluent family in 1970’s Mexico, we watch as Cleo systematically goes about her typical routine: cleaning up after the dog, laundering clothes, nannying the children. It’s all fairly mundane sounding, right? Without realizing it, pieces of a picture perfect image are subtly shifted, leading to an emotional mirror between Cleo’s employer, Sofia (Marina de Tavira) and our protagonist. The gradual build to an anxiety-inducing moment with Cleo and the children in her charge at the beach is presented by writer and director, Alfonso Cuaron, in stunning brilliance. Roma made its way this far up my list because of its thoughtful portrayal, where any and all shots could be a stand-alone, along with its delicately complex storyline based on Cuaron’s childhood experiences. It is a work of art. 1. Hereditary The most jarring, question-provoking, terror-inciting movie of 2018 and my top choice is, hands down, Hereditary . Ominous music presides as Annie Graham (Toni Collette) addresses an unfamiliar mass that has gathered for her mother’s funeral. A secretive woman with “private rituals,” the late matriarch of the family left behind her daughter and two grandchildren, Charlie (Milly Shapiro) and Peter (Alex Wolff). Though we never know the grandmother, her presence is latent in every moment, whether we are initially aware of it or not. Annie’s visit to a bereavement group sheds light on a history of mental illness in her bloodline: a mother with a dissociative identity disorder, a brother who committed suicide convinced his mother had tried to “put people inside” of him, and Annie’s own issues with sleepwalking, leading to potentially fatal outcomes compounded by prospective D.I.D. like her mother. Then we have Charlie, a thirteen year old girl devoid of emotion, and tendencies towards macabre creations (utilizing the severed head of a pigeon to make a toy, for example). “Klokk,” a playful and childish sound we’ve all made, is a compulsive tick of Charlie’s and soon becomes a trigger for the audience. A little past a quarter of the way through Hereditary , a character falls victim to what appears to be a horrific accident. At that moment, the already off-kilter-feeling story escalates in ways I could have never anticipated. Annie dabbles in communicating with and summoning the dead, Peter is plagued by spirits (ghosts or guilt? “Klokk,”) and the family, as a whole, begins to fray. Annie’s dollhouses marginalize the movie, which grows to stand as a metaphor for the Grahams and their role as playthings. It isn’t until we near the end, that the feeling of complete helplessness settles in, and our characters fall in line with what has always been destined for them. Surprising twists, echoes of the dead, a family torn, death, rebirth, mourning, mental illness, Hereditary will leave you in awe and genuinely wondering, “what the fuck did I just watch?” Stamper A Beacon transplant having moved to town two years ago. With a background in photography, literature, and a fondness of nature she does well in keeping busy in this bustling little community. #Newsletter #Article #KatelynStamper #Bestof2018 #RedSparrow #AQuietPlace #AStarisBorn #BlackPanther #TheFavourite #TheBalladofBusterScruggs #Annihilation #Suspiria #Roma #Hereditary

The ultimate pursuit of humanity has become an endless journey of discovery, of definition, of discerning what the laws are that govern the universe. Though our aim is to specify all that we encounter, at the source of every innovation is chance alone. So, with that in mind, in the absence of design or creation, what do we have left? Sheer dumb luck. Anyways, let’s talk about Lloyd and Harry! After all, this year marks the 25th anniversary of our iconic duo’s cross-country road trip from Providence, Rhode Island, to Aspen, Colorado, in 1994’s Dumb and Dumber . I wondered as I downloaded the movie file onto my Xbox, if the slapstick flick would hold true to my memory, or if upon revisiting, be cast into a library that I’ve simply outgrown (I was at the ripe age of six when it hit theaters to be fair). The 90’s were a different time for comedies: less CG, more physical humor, loads of sexual innuendos, at least one spit take per film, and Jim Carrey. Ah yes, Jim Carrey. Before Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, The Number 23 , or The Majestic , Carrey reigned supreme as comedy king with support from his flatulating (and sometimes ventriloquist) anus. Had I too moved on from pet detective work with Ace Ventura to landing with Man on the Moon ? Lloyd’s opening scene as a woman-leering limo driver proved that he may have been downright dumb, but an unwittingly witty kind of dumb. Six-year-old me squealed at the overdramatic gestures, whereas thirty-one-year-old me genuinely guffawed at the smartly written dialogue for a total buffoon. Suffice it to say, the movie has aged well (or perhaps, I haven’t matured quite as much as I th ought). What does every nincompoop need? An equally dimwitted partner in crime, of course! In comes wiry haired, pooch-promenading Harry, with costume and van to match, brought to fruition by actor Jeff Daniels. While not strictly known as a comedian, Daniels brings Harry to life at every turn, right down to his ever-gaping and misshapen mouth movements that are borderline cringey but moreover endearing. In fact, regardless of their IQ’s, Lloyd and Harry are as kind hearted as they are dumb, and impossible not to love. Despite their dead-end jobs, serious cash flow problem, and the lack of love lives, the pair have a wholesome dream of one day opening a pet store together, “Got Worms.” It’s important to have goals, am I right? So, we have our award-winning leads, but we need a little intrigue to act as the vehicle that brings us on this ride. Love interest? Check. Mystery? Check. Antagonist(s)? Check. What more could we ask for? Oh, I know. ROAD TRIP! Quick break down: Lloyd meets Mary Swanson, falls head over heels at first sight, but she’s leaving the state. What’s this? She forgets a briefcase at the airport? What’s more, two hired gunmen are meant to pick it up as ransom money? Of course. Lloyd intercepts and decides to drive to Aspen and hand deliver the goods in an effort to win over Mary. Herein lies the arch of our tale that brings us to what it’s really all about; Lloyd and Harry live in a realm just beyond the reach of reason, where accountability does not exist, and the laws of nature lay dormant. We can call this realm a suspension of rationality. For multiple reasons, it would be ironic to say that Lloyd and Harry are faced with a series of unfortunate events, mainly due to the fact that whatever’s thrown at them is ultimately rendered neutral.This notion is what keeps you laughing as you innately understand that, in the end, the pair is going to be fine. As the viewer, we have an omniscient perspective, and we grasp the potential danger the fellas consistently find themselves in, from near poisoning to being shot execution style, and all that falls in between, though Lloyd and Harry deflect it all by accident. The only damage that seems to stick is the damage they inflict on one another. After finally reaching Aspen, a trail of police, wounded truckers, and one dead body behind them, our best buds turn on one another over Mary Swanson. I’d expect nothing less than playground tactics between Lloyd and Harry, but I have to admit, I will never not find a laxative bit funny (sorry, not sorry Harry). A metaphysical warp, Dumb and Dumber makes it to its 25th year with the timelessness of a fart joke. Personally, I needed a good laugh and that’s what this movie continues to deliver after over two decades, transcending into the era of meme humor and emoji innuendos. Absurdity has been, and always will be relevant. Still a source of quotable content, couples Halloween costume inspiration and well-deserved chuckles, Lloyd and Harry have become immortalized as pillars of comedy. Though they survive based on sheer dumb luck, the success of the movie is due to intelligent handling on all fronts, providing audiences with what they need to escape every so often into a world of levity. Here’s to you Dumb and Dumber , may the next 25 years be full of chipped teeth, bowl cuts, and dog-shaped vans! Stamper A Beacon transplant having moved to town a few years ago. With a background in photography, literature, and a fondness of nature she does well in keeping busy in this bustling little community. #Newsletter #KatelynStamper #DumbandDumber #Reviews

The nights were cold and despite the incessant rain, howls could be heard off in the distance. As the moon neared her fullness, I became all too aware of how absolutely alone I truly was: vulnerable to the wild elements. Sorry, I’m getting a bit carried away. I’m meant to be writing about An American Werewolf in London , but this classic 1981 horror flick triggered memories of my solo camping trip in the Adirondacks – an experience both exhilarating and terrifying. It’s rather fortunate that I waited to have my virgin viewing until after I returned from camping. I’d be remiss in not imploring you readers to stave off any sadistic notions of watching the film and then taking a tent out into the middle of nowhere; the forest plays tricks on the mind, and the mind plays tricks on you, much like this movie played tricks on me. So, from the safety of my toasty apartment, let’s tear into this grizzly, gory, overarchingly comical mostly raw tale of lore. Our story opens overlooking the desolate countryside of Yorkshire while a slow version of "Blue Moon" ironically plays over long shots of the misty moors. A truck loaded with sheep comes to a halt at a crossroads where two young American men hop off the back, thank the driver, and head on their way with no real plan, other than enjoying the next three months backpacking through Europe. As night falls a chill creeps in, and the young men, David and Jack, (played by David Naughton and Griffin Dunne), become increasingly desperate for shelter, warmth and a good meal. A lonely light flickers above a worn pub sign that reads, “The Slaughtered Lamb.” Depicted is an image of a severed wolf head run through by a bloody blade. “Where’s the lamb?” Jack questions, wary of entering. As if this doesn’t seem ominous enough, when David and Jack do enter, the room hushes and the camera pans to a red pentagram slathered on the wall. Cue the superstitious locals vs. nosey travelers scenario: lots of intense staring, plenty of blaring signals warning of a very serious danger, scores of obliviousness on the travelers’ part and an anxious audience yelling, “The guy told you to stay off the moors, you morons!” Hey, guess what? They didn’t listen. If a bar full of tight-lipped locals told me to stick to the road, I’d stick to the fucking road! Through the fog and the dark, a hungry cry sounds off across the rolling hills, growing closer and closer. The grunts and growls seemingly come from all sides when finally a wolf leaps through the shadows and tackles Jack to the ground, tearing at his chest; he cries out for David who had begun to run, only to turn back and find his friend gushing blood all over his green down-filled jacket. Suddenly, a flash of fur and David is down. Gunshots ring just in time, rendering the beast into a mere man – fade to black. David awakens three weeks later in a London hospital, rattled with confusion, guilt, pain, and a potential loss of sanity. In between doctor’s visits, a budding romance develops between our leading man and deflective nurse, Alex Price, (played by Jenny Agutter). David is plagued by jarring nightmares and visits from his recently pronounced dead friend, Jack. (As an aside, major kudos to Rick Baker, the lead special effects creator for his awe-striking work on Jack’s gaping neck wound. His flailing skin tag was extraordinarily distracting). But, Jack’s message was heard loud and clear: David was attacked by a werewolf and would become one himself by the next full moon. Up until now, we’d been presented with a fairly typical superstitious outlook. Of course the locals were right. Of course David was attacked by a werewolf. And of course, the full moon was only two days away. With the introduction of Dr. J.S. Hirsch (played by John Woodvine), however, a psychological approach is brought into play and the viewer is left to wonder: is David truly a werewolf or is he going crazy? Well, we find out soon enough. After David is discharged, Nurse Price takes him back to her place where pent up attraction and chemistry leads to a night of intensity. In referring back to my notes, all I wrote in regards to this particular moment was, “THAT SEX SCENE, THO.” Alas, the blissful sleep that follows a marathon as such is interrupted by yet another visit from Jack, whose body has continued to decay. Again, he begs David to end the curse before the next full moon by killing himself, leaving David in a panic-stricken, near hysterical state, (a state of being that Nurse Price seems to find outrageously attractive, by the way). Her relationship with the little boy at the hospital who can only say, “No,” speaks to her deflective take on what would normally be seen as a clear slip into insanity on David’s part; just sayin’. The following day, David is left to his own devices while Nurse Price is at work. What follows is a rather boring montage of pacing, opening the fridge, more pacing, reading, opening the fridge, repeat etc. etc. which, in retrospect, I appreciate the length and banality of the scene, as the one that follows is not only shocking, but would become one of the greatest werewolf transformations in cinema history. Another shout out to Rick Baker who had developed the idea, mechanics, special effects, makeup etc. for a werewolf transformation over the course of several years leading up to the making of the film. The scene falls just shy of three minutes, but it felt like a lifetime as David flung himself to the floor in agony, begging for help, his bones cracking and elongating, his flesh stretching over a new form, hair sprouting from every pore. All the while, an upbeat version of "Blue Moon" plays, lending to the dry humor found throughout the movie. This is the centerpiece of the film, the moment that paves the way for what horror movies were to become in the 80’s, unparalleled, even to this day. With the werewolf fully realized, we are taken on a killing spree with a final body count of six before David wakes naked in a zoo wolf pen the following morning. Price thinks he’s endearing, Dr. Hirsch wants to bring him in for an examination, and Jack’s near skeletal remains makes one last attempt to convince David to kill himself. Too late! David turns again and runs through the streets of London causing sheer chaos among the crowds, leading to a gnarly car crash scene: total carnage. Soon, proper enforcements are brought in and corner the creature down a darkened alley. Price breaks through the crowds, running towards the animal, exclaiming her love. For a moment, the eyes of the beast turn soft but quickly ravenous again as it lunges towards the nurse only to be shot down by the police force. David’s naked body pours blood from its side out onto the street. Nurse Price falls into hysterics. Roll credits, “Blue Moon” plays. What the fuck? Stamper A Beacon transplant having moved to town two years ago. With a background in photography, literature, and a fondness of nature she does well in keeping busy in this bustling little community. #Newsletter #Review #KatelynStamper #AnAmericanWerewolfinLondon #JohnLandis #Horror #BeaconHorrorshow3 #October2017 #Moon