Random TV and Movie Thoughts
I had the incredible misfortune to watch the premiere of Demons this weekend. Um. The show where Philip Glenister plays a Texan. Named Rupert. With the worst fake American accent ever. And the show itself is pretty much like someone watched Buffy and said, “Hmm, this could be good, y’know, if we just removed all the feminism, self-awareness, and wit.” Like the worst of Supernatural and Van Helsing and all the bad, lazy writing throughout history, bundled into one nauseating and offensive little package.
I would, however, totally watch a spinoff about Mackenzie Crook’s half-David Bowie, half-Jack Sparrow demon creature thing. Except he got killed off. Because all demons are bad and it’s so much easier to dismiss entire groups of beings as evil than to write moral ambiguity or complexity. *headdesk*
I also watched one of my favorite 80s movies, The Legend of Billie Jean, because I was craving something that passed the Bechdel test. Which this one does extraordinarily well. It’s actually kind of amazing how aware it is of gender and class issues, given its “80s teen movie” genre. I appreciate it more every time I see it.
Yeah, it has its very cheesy moments, but if you ignore the implausibilities of the plot and focus on the wider themes, it’s really kind of awesome: a low class blonde teenage girl gets sexually assaulted, then demonized and exploited by the media… and because she’s smart and creative and compassionate, she’s able to turn it all in her favor to protect her loved ones and stand up for justice. It’s awesome to see how many sexist traps the film sidesteps: the various male figures who step up to help her–Lloyd, Det. Ringwald–remain firmly in the background while she saves herself; the film itself doesn’t exploit her looks or sexuality and criticizes characters who do; Billie Jean is always in charge of her group and the film doesn’t just tell us that she’s resourceful and creative, it shows us; Billie Jean isn’t superhuman and has her emotionally vulnerable moments, but never turns unrealistically weak and whiny; she does end up in a relationship, but she’s clearly the one in control of it and it’s totally not the point of the movie…. Plus, okay, Helen Slater is just so, so hot in that movie. (Funny, the first time I saw it was because ten-year-old me had a crush on Christian Slater, and over the years I kept watching it because of Keith Gordon.)
Oh, and the music is awesome. (Alas, I’m assuming music rights are the reason this film has tragically not been released on DVD yet.)
I also watched the entire first season of Queer as Folk US. Well, kind of. That show is a whole lot less nauseating if you fast forward through every Ted, Emmett, Deb, or Dr. Dickhead scene. Seriously, Michael’s boyfriend, the doctor whose name I don’t even want to type, played by the smarmy homophobic guy from Kung Fu, you know that guy? He’s just so revolting that I literally get nauseated watching him, the way he controls Michael’s life and separates him from his friends and manipulates him emotionally and treats his comic books like an embarrassment OMG I HATE THAT GUY.
Um. Anyway. But I decided to watch it–extensively edited–because Brian Kinney reminds me of Francis Crawford of Lymond. I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW. The genres are utterly different and the Lymond Chronicles are a million zillion times better then Queer as Folk, but if you just look at the two characters, they have a whole lot of the same strength and charisma and individuality and … deep psychological problems. Rejected by their fathers, afraid to let anyone get too close, made better people by their connection with one particular good person (Sybilla, Michael), and with a sarcastic tongue and a tendency to lash out with incredible cruelty whenever they’re hurt, and with a strong moral core underneath… of course Queer as Folk is still a terrible, terrible show, but it’s a terrible show that I keep coming back to watch, because it’s got Brian Kinney. (Just the first season, though. I sold the rest of my Queer as Folk DVDs on eBay, because watching Queer as Folk as a Brian/Michael shipper is a lot like beating your head against a brick wall. And the show itself is such an inane mix of soap opera, movie of the week, and softcore porn. Grrr. Long before Doctor Who, my original love of Russell T. Davies was because he created the infinitely superior British version of Queer as Folk.)
Strangely on this rewatch I found myself sympathizing a lot more with Melanie. She’s actually pretty much always right, but she’s written as such a shrill, one-dimensional whiner that it’s hard to sympathize with her. I blame the writers; their “lesbians” are so one dimensional and stereotypical. (Seriously, how many sex scenes do they have in which they spend the whole time talking about Brian Kinney???) And how can you possibly sympathize with them when they just up and had a baby without working out any of the legal paperwork beforehand??? And Brian’s misogyny becomes increasingly less bearable… I know you’re supposed to shrug it off as an affectation and not his real beliefs, but reality doesn’t work that way. Oh well. If I was going to start in on the ideological flaws of Queer as Folk we’d be here all day. Brian Kinney’s hot, is the point, and really the only reason to put up with that abomination of a show.
Meanwhile, in Dunnett world, I’m in the midst of re-reading Queen’s Play. This is the book that thwarted me on my first attempt at re-reading the series; it took six months to get through and then I needed a break. I just don’t feel very compelled by the plot (”Lymond drinks and parties and fucks half the French court and, oh yeah, saves Mary Queen of Scots’ life a few times”) or the secondary characters (O’LiamRoe is… a pretty straightforward character after you’ve read his story once; Robin Stewart is incredibly unsympathetic and irritating; John Stewart, the villain, isn’t even smart, let alone interesting; and Oonagh is so brittle and bitter and cold that it’s incredibly difficult for me to sympathize with her.) Anyway, so this time around I’m focusing on things I missed the first time around: names and places that come into play later in Checkmate, prophecies and machinations of the Dame de Doubtance, and mostly just trying to figure out what’s going on with Lymond.
I think the first time I read it I gave Lymond too much credit in terms of knowing what he’s doing. In retrospect it’s clear that he gets really out of control here, and my interest is in trying to figure out just how much of what he does is calculated as part of being undercover and how much is just pure hedonism. And I’m also trying to figure out his mental state–I’m thinking that his big issue here is, as always, heritage, this time in terms of losing his title and having to make his own way in the world while his brother inherits the land and power. This is why Mary of Guise thinks she can get him to serve her, and I think is a big parallel with Robin Stewart, another “nobody” who has to make his own way (and in comparison, totally sucks at it). Also, while I do sympathize with Lymond here–five years as an outlaw, rowing the galleys, being seduced and betrayed, losing his sister and two good friends, and all while so young–and I agree he’s got a lot of lost time to make up for, but still it’s just kind of… cringeworthy, to watch him make a complete mess of himself. Although, being Lymond, he certainly does it with style.
Oh yeah and in Bowie world, I’ve thoroughly exhausted Ziggy Stardust and Hunky Dory, don’t particularly like The Man Who Sold the World (except the title track) or Aladdin Sane, and am currently giving Diamond Dogs its chance. Did I mention that I went to see that all-girl Bowie cover band and it sucked? So sad. :(
I’ve been drinking wine as I wrote this–has it gotten less coherent as it’s gone on? Apologies for rambling.
Current Mood: 
blah
16 Responses to “Random TV and Movie Thoughts”
versaphile on January 27, 2009 4:12 am | Link
“Hmm, this could be good, y’know, if we just removed all the feminism, self-awareness, and wit.”
That pretty much sums it up, yeah. I couldn’t even make it through the first ep.
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rusty-halo on January 27, 2009 12:52 pm | Link
It’s too bad that Demons isn’t even bad in the hilariously awful way that makes drunken MST3King so fun; it’s just dumb and cliched and awful on every level. I hope they’re paying Philip Glenister really well.
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netweight on January 27, 2009 12:00 pm | Link
To be fair to Van Helsing though, the whole point of the movie was to be awfully, gleefully BAD, clichéd and cracktastic. ;)
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rusty-halo on January 27, 2009 12:46 pm | Link
True. I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that I saw Van Helsing twice in the theater–because Hugh Jackman and the guy playing Dracula were both really hot, plus, yes, it’s cheesetastic. And I understand even Supernatural has its redemptive qualities. ;) I just mean that Demons takes the worst aspects from each with none of the positives.
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netweight on January 27, 2009 1:33 pm | Link
Heee! Don’t be embarrassed, whenever I catch Van Helsing playing on TV, I always stick around watching for a bit, to cackle at the cheese. I knew you weren’t putting it down per se and it was an apt example seeing that the strength of VH is exactly that it is aware of it’s doing and doesn’t take itself seriously. (I love the guy playing Dracula too, he’s so obviously having a ball with the whole thing.
Hugh Jackman: “My deep manpain, let me show you it.”
Dracula: *munches scenery* “Mmhh, tasty.”)
I understand even Supernatural has its redemptive qualities.
Yes, our guest stars, for instance. ;)
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rusty-halo on January 27, 2009 2:43 pm | Link
Ooh, I had no idea Helen Slater was on SPN. It seemed like she dropped off the face of the world after Supergirl and Billie Jean, which always made me sad.
(PS: Sorry that the spam blocker caught your comment. If that happens again, just let me know and I can restore it.)
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netweight on January 27, 2009 4:18 pm | Link
It was just a guest role as mater familias, but there was geek joy to be had that this was *Billie Jean*. (Because: siblings protecting each other, us against the world, “we can’t afford to be innocent”… let’s just say whoever decides the casting in SPN is a huge movie geek.)
(Thanks, will do.)
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Nancy on January 28, 2009 2:40 am | Link
Unlike you, I loved Queen’s Play but then, I was completely seduced by the language and the rich portrayal of the French Court. I just assumed that Lymond was out of control - running wild and sowing tons of wild oats, f&*(+k half the French Court and spying on the other half. Since I’m interested in astrology and used to do it semi-professionally, I found the Dame de Doutance a fascinating character and I totally “got” Oonauh. But I’m a hopeless romantic because I wanted her to end up with O’LiamRoe. My main problem with this - as with the rest of the series - is the Scots nationalism. Mary, Q of Scots was a disaster for her country and even though in this book she’s a pretty little girl, I couldn’t forget that. I guess that while I loved the books, I was never that invested in a particular vision of Lymond and pretty much took what I read at face value.
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rusty-halo on January 28, 2009 12:21 pm | Link
I think I started out on the wrong foot with Queen’s Play because I don’t speak a word of French or know anything about French history, so I spent a lot of the time wanting to throw the book across the room because I was frustrated by not being able to understand. Now that I have the book of translations I’m appreciating it a lot more.
It’s difficult to figure out how much is Lymond actually running wild and how much is part of his undercover act to protect MQoS–he’s so in control a lot of the times people think he’s out of control, and then sometimes he’s out of control when people think he’s in control. I think you have to read the entire series and learn to “get” Lymond, via body language and tiny signals (like Philippa!), before you can re-read and actually start to understand everything that’s going on with him throughout. And the first time I wasn’t clear what exactly he was trying to escape from with all the hedonism, whereas now I’m watching with an eagle eye for it (I think it’s a mix…. Christian’s death, Eloise’s, the fact that he’s about to lose his “Master of Culter” title, the fact that everyone is trying to use and control him for their own ends…)
Can you explain the appeal of Oonagh to me? I’m not being facetious; obviously there’s something positive about her if Lymond likes her so much. But all I see is someone bitter, cold, violent, humorless, and willing to kill children to achieve her ideals. The only redeeming factor is that she’s intelligent, but then, Gabriel’s intelligent–that’s not enough for me to root for her, although at least she’s not an actual sadist like him.
I think Dunnett was aware of the problems with MQoS, which is why she makes such a distinction for Lymond between supporting Scotland and supporting the queen. Obviously he’d protect the child Mary, but as time goes on he seems increasingly cautious about her. And Dunnett’s definitely critical of Mary (I just read a rather pointed line about how “the Queen of Scotland was forgetting her Scots”) and gets moreso in Checkmate. I think maybe Dunnett saw potential in Mary that was never realized, which is why she has Lymond inviting her to hang out with Scots and whispering in her ear about nationalism, which is a big part of why the de Guises kick him out of France at the end. (If only Lymond had been there to influence her a while longer…)
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Nancy on January 28, 2009 2:04 pm | Link
In Oonaugh, I saw the tragedy and the stubbornness underneath the beauty. I haven’t reread the books in ages so I might have a different take if I read them now. If Oonaugh wanted to kill Lymond or Mary, it was in what she thought was a higher cause for Irish Independence. Gabriel’s only cause was himself and he delighted in inflicting pain. But he was pretty much out of the picture in QoP, wasn’t he? The major players were the Guise family, Margaret Lennox and whatever the name of the thug that was Oonaugh’s lover.
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rusty-halo on January 28, 2009 3:12 pm | Link
Yeah, Gabriel wasn’t in Queen’s Play. I just mean there wasn’t much in Oonagh to make me sympathetic–she’s beautiful and intelligent, but so is Gabriel, who is obviously not sympathetic. What makes Oonagh different? She’s ruthless in pursuit of an ideal instead of solely for herself and she’s not a sadist, but that’s not really enough to make me care about her for her own sake. She’s relentlessly fatalistic, judgmental, cold, and miserable, so I do feel kind of bad for her, but I’m not really all that engaged by her story. And I get that Lymond, having slept with her and gotten her pregnant, would want to save her, but I don’t really get why he likes her.
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Nancy on January 28, 2009 6:44 pm | Link
Now, I am intrigued and must reread the books to see if my take on things has changed since I read them last. I suppose that I thought Lymond really didn’t like Oonagh but thought that he could seduce her to his cause. But after their night of transcendental sex , he realized that he couldn’t. But then, she came to some realizations as well about her relationship with Cormac was only coarsening her and wasn’t leading to a free Ireland. Amazing how Lymond + sex has life changing effects on his lovers. Think about it - he has an affair with Margaret Lennox and his rejection causes her such fury that she pursues him for 10 (?) years. He’s nasty to Robin Stewart after being sort of kind and shows up late for a date and Robin commits suicide.
You realize that I’m joking?
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rusty-halo on January 28, 2009 7:22 pm | Link
I realize you’re joking. ;) Although, actually, I pretty much share that interpretation of the Robin Stewart thing! A lot of the male/male relationships in the series are steeped in subtextual homoeroticism (presumably because 90% of the cast falls in love with Lymond, regardless of gender) and that is probably the most obvious one. Of course it’s more admiration and envy than “love” but I feel like Robin’s over-the-top obsession with Lymond has a romantic component also.
I actually have the opposite interpretation of the thing with Margaret Lennox. He was, what, 16? and she was 27? She seduced him, the experienced, brilliant, and beautiful older woman, while he was this naive and idealistic boy. I think he probably thought he was head over heels for her, and then she betrayed him, which I think is a big part of his insistence throughout the series that he doesn’t believe love is possible for him–he was burned so badly in his first relationship that he’s given up on the idea entirely. As for her, I think her anger is … not so much that he rejected her romantically but that she couldn’t control him. He rejected her in the sense of refusing to go along with her scheme and accept her bribes, because he valued Scotland and his family more than he valued her. So I think mostly it was an injury to her pride that caused her to go after him so rabidly for all those years…
Oh, and Oonagh. Yeah, I agree that he slept with her to seduce her to his cause (and she was trying to do the same by sleeping with him). It is a bit silly, the redemptive powers of sex with Lymond, now that I think of it. Although it certainly backfires when he tries the same with Joleta (if you even attribute any nobility of cause to that… whatever the hell he was trying to do there).
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Nancy on January 29, 2009 2:36 am | Link
You’re right about Margaret Lennox but I also think that he knew too many of her secrets for her to be comfortable with him “on the loose” as it were . I also think that some of Lymond’s self-loathing must come from not only her betrayal and the situation with his sister, but what he must have done to have survived and gotten out of the galleys. When you think about it, Dunnett’s homo-erotic sub (and not so sub) text was extremely advanced for it’s day. The Game of Kings first came out in 1964 (?); in any case, it was my first or second year of college and I was pretty clueless about homosexuality. Well, I had no reason to know about it, being a Navy kid, raised in dozens of bases around the world where being gay was just not part of my life. I remember when I first started to understand that Dunnett meant for Lymond’s charisma to reach both men and women,. That’s certainly a lot clearer in Queen’s Play where he sleeps with a fair portion of the male members of the French Court and Dunnett makes no secret that his “blonde but not frigid” charms are quite delicieux. Joleta - I think that was a failed attempt at seduction to his cause but it’s also a classic Dunnett deux ex machina. There are any number of places in the books where she writes a scene that may not be very logical but moves the plot in the way that she wants it to move. Furthermore, she loves torturing Lymond and misleading her readers; the whole Joleta saga was a prime example of that.
I certainly felt that Robin Stwart was deeply in love with Lymond but pretty unconscious of that love, at least in the physical sense. I think that Stewart comes to see that Lymond is what he could have been, might be still if they can be…what I don’t know? Friends? But many characters realize - or manifest their love for Lymond - during one of the many physical games that she puts her characters through, in this case, the chase over the rooftops. Like Phillipa in Checkmate, Robin feels a moment of pure joy and connection but unlike Phillipa, he meets with a cool rejection.
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Nancy on February 26, 2009 1:23 am | Link
I posted elsewhere about my reactions to QP now that I’ve actually reread it for the first time in ages. I found Oonaugh fascinating and sympathetic when I first read the book and the sex scene in the palace was just so hot. But this time around, I was bored and irritated with her character and even more so when Dunnett introduces us to Connor who is really a brutal lout. If Oonaugh is so smart, why hasn’t she left him before now? I know that Dunnett makes the point that Oonaugh is proud to the point of stupidity but I wasn’t buying it. I still adore O’LiamRoe but found that I couldn’t fathom what his role in Ireland would be after his “education” by Lymond. For me, Robin Stewart was one of the piece de resistance of the novel - plain, angry, seething with envy and not very bright, falling in love with Lymond (and totally clueless about it) — what an amazing talent she had to bring this guy to life and make us care about him. Because if we didn’t develop some compassion for him, all the end scenes after his death would be meaningless. As is, I think that they are a bit overwritten and the philosophy a bit too …inflated. But since Lymond is to be the hero of the rest of the series, I “get” that Dunnett has to continually make whatever he does and says of cosmic importance.
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rusty-halo on February 26, 2009 8:15 pm | Link
Thanks for commenting here about your Queen’s Play re-read. I love having other Dunnett people to talk with!
I wonder how my experience with reading the novels is going to change as I change–I’m sure new experiences and evolving opinions will inform how I respond to the text. I’m looking forward to reading it ten years from now and seeing what’s different!
I share your frustration with Oonagh. I guess the sex scene was kind of hot but, well, honestly that’s one of the rare occasions in Dunnett where I found myself rolling my eyes. I’m usually swept along by her prose and her philosophy, but in this case I was just thinking “No matter how great Lymond is in bed, I do not think that sex with him can ‘free your soul from your body’!”
I do understand what she was trying for with Oonagh, though–”proud to the point of stupidity” is a good way to describe it. Not just with Cormac but I’m also thinking of when she gives up her chance of escape in Gozo just to punish Galatian. There’s a line in there somewhere about her wallowing in masochistic self-hatred–when she manages to drag herself out of it she can be a brave, intelligent, heroic person, but too often she just gets lost in pride and misery. I do like the metaphor of her as a sea goddess–she’s kind of otherwordly and powerful and fascinating, but she’s not very moral or human or relatable.
O’LiamRoe does make a lot of sense to me, though. I think the reason he has to change is that he’s not fulfilled by the way he’s living; he’s acting out of fear, sitting on the sidelines mocking instead of joining the game because he’s afraid he’s not good enough. But he has a responsibility, a powerful position that he could use to help Ireland, and I like that he realizes that and learns to use it. And I think he’s an interesting foil for Lymond because Lymond is someone who could also descend into that kind of self-protective cynical detachment, but doesn’t, because he is compelled by his sense of responsibility, his ability to make a difference for the better. I don’t know exactly what O’LiamRoe’s role will be–I think there’s a line in there about how this *could* just be the start of a complete failure–but at least now he’s going to try, to take a stand and participate in the world instead of hiding on the sidelines mocking.
I agree with you totally about Robin Stewart–he is *so* well-drawn. Admittedly I have a hard time sympathizing with him–his main complaint is that he doesn’t have everything he could ever want handed to him on a silver platter without him having to put in any effort. But I also sympathize with how he got that way, as a rejected, unwanted child, and someone who has the potential to be a better person but never achieves it because he never has a guide or a leader to help him (and how tragic that Lymond almost is that but, in the end, fails Robin too). And, yes, his unrealized love for Lymond is fascinating, and heartbreaking too, because Lymond mostly just seems to regard him with contempt, while Robin is so overwhelmingly needy. You really wonder how much different he would have been if anyone had ever really been there for him.
(Although one thing I do like about how Lymond deals with all three is that he helps them to better understand who they are and how they can improve themselves, he shows them what they can do but he doesn’t force them, he leaves it up to them to make their own choices.)
As is, I think that they are a bit overwritten and the philosophy a bit too …inflated. But since Lymond is to be the hero of the rest of the series, I “get” that Dunnett has to continually make whatever he does and says of cosmic importance.
It does strike me that when I translate much of the Lymond chronicles into modern vernacular, I find myself rolling my eyes quite a bit. It is very exaggerated, very high drama, but I think Dunnett’s got the writing skills to pull it off, to sweep me along as I’m reading it so that I don’t think too hard about how over the top a lot of it is. But then she also puts in so many realistic, gritty touches that take it away from being too cheesy and idealized, and she has such a nuanced understanding of human psychology that I find myself enthralled even when I am aware of how silly some aspects are.
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