Cinephillia 005 | The Shape of Water

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What I think I enjoyed the most about The Shape of Water is it’s melding of two old Hollywood genres, their accompanying tropes / cultural conceits and plays with them in way that no mainstream director has done before, to make a definitive statement thats fitting for our current political and social climate.

You can draw a clear line of influence from The Birth of a Nation to King Kong to The Creature from the Black Lagoon — classic Hollywood films that are ultimately about the fear of the other and the need of strapping white men to protect cultural standards of beauty/purity (white women) from monsters (immigrants, POC).

It’s not a stretch to see how marginalized groups, LGBTQ, POC, and also interracial couples as well, could empathize with more contemporary versions of those stories that subvert those tropes. You might think Beauty and the Beast counts here, and in a way it does, but the act of The Beast changing into an traditionally attractive man as a reward, disqualifies it in my eyes. Shrek comes closer but doesn’t fit the bill either.

This is what makes Del Toro’s Hellboy and The Shape of Water unique. The “monster,” never has to change and neither does their significant other. What they look like on the outside already matches what’s on the inside and is excepted and loved for it.

“Much like fairy tales, there are two facets of horror.”

— Guillermo del Toro

Del Toro has said many times that as kid, watching films like The Black Lagoon, and such, he always connected with the “beasts” of these stories more than he did with the human characters. So those parallels are not lost to him. Del Toro is obsessed with the idea of monsters as sympathetic characters — it’s one of the defining elements in his storytelling toolbox and what I take from him in my own writing.

The Shape of Water is an adult fairy tale about misfits that exist on the margins of society. I can see why Del Toro chose to write a mute protagonist with a black female and gay man as supporting characters, taking place in the 1950’s during the height of civil rights activism.

The white male antagonist of the film has a line about how humans were made in God’s image and casually says to the black female supporting character that God looks more like him than he does her. Then there’s the subplot with the gay supporting character and a bartender he has a crush on, that I would rather not spoil.

But anyway...The Shape of Water is amazing. The cinematography, the practical effects, the costume and set design, the acting, the color palette and the score are all incredibly well realized in Del Toro’s signature passionate voice and meticulous attention to detail, on a meager 20 million dollar budget. It’s not for everyone (and no film should be in an ideal world) but it so very much deserved it’s Oscar win for film of the year. 

The second (or first, I can’t decide) best film of 2017 for me.

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Journal 003 | Madvillain, or...When You're the Antagonist of Your Own Story

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What does this post have to do with the Madlib / MF Doom supergroup, Madvillain? Nothing.

...or does it?

Okay anyway; moving on...

Everyone thinks that they’re the “good guy.”

We all grow up believing that we're the hero of our own story, making self reflection rather difficult at times, particularly if you’re a member of a group that's historically responsible for the subjugation of another group (that includes: men, white people, straight people, *insert dominant religion of your home country*, etc.). I mean, these types of literary antagonists tend to be the most relatable/complex for a reason. We all struggle with acknowledging our mistakes and flaws.

I like to think that self-reflection is three step process (Maybe? Lets just go with that). For me, as a cis gendered male, raised in a culture of normalized toxic masculine socialization and sexism, the first step of self reflection involves realizing that in many instances of my romantic life, I was actually the antagonist —  the restricter; the hinderance; the suppressor — if not an outright villain (depending on who you ask).

The second step varies, I think. Although you can’t go wrong with listening more than you speak.

I'm an artist and art-ing how I tend to reflect, so I want to create something where I write candidly about these experiences and structure them as a series of short stories. I’d then share it with the world for people to judge however they see fit. But even that kind of feels counterintuitive. 

“Even though this is my story I feel like my voice takes up too much space.”

I recently read an op ed about man-spreading (which is the idea that men literally take up too much space) where the author uses the example of a man sitting on the subway with his legs spread wide, taking up more space than necessary, for how we’ve been taught (in subtle and overt ways) never to consider how entitled to public space we may act or feel — how it’s our masculine socialization that ingrains in us from the youngest of ages the idea that we are entitled to what’s around us.

Even though this is my story I feel like my voice takes up too much space. I’m not the main character here. You might be saying, “well if you’re the antagonist then of course you’re not the main character.” However, hero, main character and protagonist are not always one in the same, nor do they have to be.

 — begin lesson —

The main character, aka narrator, relates the story. The protagonist takes action, and undergoes the most change. The hero saves the day. Someone intentionally or unintentially working against the protagonist achieving their goals is an antagonist. Evil makes a villain. Some stories, grimdark and antiheroes, do not have heroes. Some don't even have protagonists. A good writer knows that that you can mix and match any of these classifications to create more interesting and unexpected perspectives. You can write a story where the main character is the antagonist (see: House of Cards). You can write a story where the protagonist is the main character but not the hero (see: The Great Gatsby). If you’re clever enough, you can even write an effective story where the main character, hero and villain are one in the same (see: Nightcrawler).

— end lesson — 

I want to tell a story about toxic masculine behavior and all the ways in which the culture restricts how women move through the world. My love life would fill the plot. I am the antagonist; I am the villain. They are the main characters; they are the protagonists. There are no heroes. No excuses made for the actions of anyone involved. The voices of each woman would be front and center. heir experiences with me are just as much their story as it is mine, if not more so. I wouldn't alter it in the least. I wouldn't even be the one doing the writing; I would simply be a curator of sorts — taking their words and editing them into a cohesive narrative. And yes; this means I'd actually have to track down each of these women, and awkwardly ask them if they would participate and actively revisit this period in their lives for the sake of art.

Allowing them to literally be the narrator places a nuanced and brutally honest laser focus on cause and effect, highlighting all the ways in which women consciously and subconsciously respond to and cope with toxic masculinity. If I’m wrong, well, idk; I very well could be. But then comes the third step — acknowledgement of one's mistakes and apologizing (technically that makes four I guess but whateves). Every experience is an opportunity to learn. Because of my age, sometimes I feel like there are certain toxic aspects of who I am as man, that I won’t ever be able to change entirely; but at this point in my life, I feel like that's okay. No one's perfect.

That shouldn’t stop anyone from trying their best.

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Cinephillia 004 | She's Gotta Have It [Netflix]

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When I was a kid, my parents hid a VHS copy of the movie this series is based on, at the very top of the china cabinet in our dinning room. I never stood on top of a chair and a small stack of books to find that out, or watched it or anything, of course...honest.

...but anywho.

Here's some background for those unfamiliar (taken from the Netflix YouTube channel):

Who is Nola Darling? Return to the story and character of the very first Spike Lee joint, now a 10 episode series on Netflix.

Thirty years ago, Spike Lee burst onto the independent filmmaking scene with his groundbreaking look at one free-spirited artist making it happen for herself in BROOKLYN, New York. Now, Miss Nola Darling returns in a timely, topical update of the visionary writer-director’s She’s Gotta Have It.

The series stars breakout actress DeWanda Wise as Nola Darling, an uncompromising woman in her late twenties struggling to define herself and divide her time among her Friends, her Job and her Three Lovers: The Cultured Model, Greer Childs, The Protective Investment Banker, Jamie Overstreet and Da Original B-Boy Sneakerhead, Mars Blackmon. Nola is not who you want her to be. Nola is now—she is outspoken, complicated, progressive, unapologetic, passionate, sexual. Nola is the modern black woman.

Nola’s story is set entirely in Fort Greene, the vibrant BROOKLYN enclave that’s home to a thriving artists’ colony but also evolving and changing in the modern era as gentrification remakes the neighborhood. Fort Greene isn’t just a backdrop for She’s Gotta Have It—the community functions as a key supporting character unto itself.

Created and executive produced by Spike Lee and Tonya Lewis Lee through their 40 Acres banner, She’s Gotta Have It stars DeWanda Wise, Lyriq Bent, Cleo Anthony, Ilfenesh Hadera, Margot Bingham, and Anthony Ramos as Mars Blackmon, the iconic role originated by Spike Lee.

“...vibrant, consistent, purposeful, unmistakably Spike and unapologetically black.”

I really enjoyed this extended exploration of the complexities of sexual autonomy.

Spike Lee is one of only a handful of art house directors, that I can name, who receives a decent amount of mainstream attention, which should be an oxymoron, but I'm glad that it isn't in this instance.

In observing art, it's important for me to keep criticisms of personal taste and technical merit segregated, and to know the difference between the two. So even though Spike Lee kills me with how on-the-nose his social commentary can be — sometimes literally spelling things out for his audience, as he does here in a few scenes, stopping short of having Keenen Ivory Wayans pop up in the corner to say, “MESSAGE!” — the visual language he uses to communicate is always distinct, vibrant, consistent, unmistakably Spike, unapologetic(ly black), and purposeful...even if it can sometimes come across to me as unfocused and wildly self-indulgent.

The fact that a large corporate entity like Netflix is willing to give him buckets of money to produce something THIS niche and THIS Black, is impressive.

Good stuff.

*sidenote: I want that soundtrack!

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Cinephillia 003 | Spider-Man: Homecoming

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Mostly just throwing out things I subjectively liked only, since I don't have time to get into too many technicals. *NO SPOILERS* *NO TRAILER THIS TIME...GO IN BLIND*

So yea; here we go:

In my OPINION...THE BEST Spider-Man film, so far. In fact, the ones that came before don't even exist to me anymore and feel dated by comparison. Tom Holland is the definitive Peter Parker in my mind now.

Every time I tell myself, “I'm tired of superheroes.” (And ultimately I am. I don't even read superhero comics anymore) Disney / MARVEL surprises me and manages to convince me of how much potential still exists. This felt fresh to me aaaand I hope they can keep it up post-Infinity War.

“In my opinion, the best Spider-Man film so far. Tom Holland is the definitive Peter Parker in my mind now.”

Not perfect but still a tight, small scale, self-contained slightly above street level story, unconcerned with setting up future MCU installments, and not involving any sings of a world ending sky-beam of death.

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An origin story sans the traditional trappings of an origin story, complete with a new expanded version of the "Great power" mantra, in the form of "If you're nothing without the suit then you shouldn't have it."

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I loved both costumes and the story driven function each served. The practical solution for justifying moving eye lenses, ala the comics, was a nice design touch.

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The Harry Potter meets Ferris Bueller / 80's teen comedy approach — taking Peter back to high school (9th grade?...10th grade?) — feels like an angle that should have been a no-brainer from the jump. (I acknowledge that Sam Rami's films came about in a different time.) It almost makes me wish I was a 12 year old again so that I could enjoy this from that perspective.

(No seriously...pitching this new version of S-P as roughly, Harry Potter, with superheroes — this film ostensibly being, "Year One," — is a really cool idea to me, just from a brand / franchise building standpoint.)

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Displaying the ethnically mixed environment of a melting pot like New York and casting people who actually are, and or look/act like kids!

In Kevin Smith's review of Homecoming, he noted the audacity of the line, “He's just a kid,” in reference to a then 75 year old Toby Maguire, from Spider-Man 2, and how this film makes that train scene a tad ridiculous in retrospect.

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Funny in surprising ways. The film did one thing with SP, during his day to day goings on, involving a carjacking that was hilarious-as-balls and something I never expected to see in a superhero film.

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Zendaya's character was also hilarious and I really love the role she's playing. She reminded me of Daria somewhat. I wish the film was more straightforward about who she's CLEARLY meant to be, but whatevs. She also has a nice joke (not joking?) about slaves that was mad unexpected for a Disney/MARVEL film.

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The easter eggs and world-building (aka setting up future villains and character arcs) stuff was subtle and non-distracting.

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The movie did a really good job of getting me to feel just how somewhat irresponsible, often mundane, tedious and dangerous being a superhero is for a character who is essentially a child, in a way that I've personally never seen before, outside of something more akin to Kick-Ass. BUT also raises a lot of questions for me about the kind of person Tony Stark is to pull a kid into that world.

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The emphasis on the fact that despite what Peter can do, he is still just a kid who's clumsy, naive, annoyingly hyperactive, an over reaching chronic screw up and gets genuinely scared (a trait showcased in several very effective 3rd act scenes in particular) really spoke to me.

Wherever Peter became distraught, saddened, frightened, etc I found myself feeling those things too.

*side note: One of those 3rd act scenes I'm talking about is the best Vulture / Spider-Man scene in the film and it doesn't involve costumes or fisticuffs of any kind!*

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For the first time in...idk...ever, in the MCU? Adrian Toomes aka The Vulture was smart, relatable and genuinely frightening villain (if I were someone's Peter's age, at least), whose motivations and actions I completely understood and kind of empathized with in a weird, Corrupt capitalistic / prohibition breeds Mob mentality / I have friends who were shit on by the system all their life and turned to selling drugs to feed their families, kind of way. The guy was basically Walter White

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Needless to say, I will be buying this movie on blu-ray and watching it with the director's commentary ON.

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Cinephilia 002 | Get Out

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So, firstly, there are no spoilers here. However if you intend on seeing Get Out. Don't read this. It's best to go into the theatre with no expectations.

The Premise:

Now that Chris (Daniel Kaluuya) and his girlfriend, Rose (Allison Williams), have reached the meet-the-parents milestone of dating, she invites him for a weekend getaway upstate with Missy and Dean. At first, Chris reads the family's overly accommodating behavior as nervous attempts to deal with their daughter's interracial relationship, but as the weekend progresses, a series of increasingly disturbing discoveries lead him to a truth that he never could have imagined.

The Technicals:

Get Out was brilliant, in concept and in execution. I went into this thinking it would be passable at best -- a few chuckles here and there mixed with the heavy handed racial commentary you'd expect from a film that, I assumed would basically be "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner" meets "The Stepford Wives." Spike Lee (but infinitely more subtle) meets M. Night Shyamalan (The Sixth Sense, Shyamalan...not The Happening, Shyamalan). Get Out has the DNA of an episode of Black Mirror. In fact, the lead of the film, Daniel Kaluuya, stared in an episode of the show, Fifteen Million Merits. Check it out if you haven't already.

It's rare that a thriller / horror film is any good these days, much less one as hyped as this one. But bruh...Get Out was a revelation -- a wholly unexpected, terrifying and appropriately comical / satirical experience, that plays with and subverts your expectations, while providing fresh, subtle, and uncomfortably sharp / poignant commentary, to boot. This was a really impressive first outing, from Jordan Peele, of Key & Peele fame. Peele has a knack for crafting sharp and hilarious reflections on race in America, but I had no idea that he was such an avid student of the horror genre. This guy did not come to play games.

- The pacing was right on the money -- a slow burn that didn't feel at all like a slow burn.

- Efficient and structurally rock solid in terms of its narrative. The rules of this world are clearly set up and pay off in ways that hit the, surprising yet expected, sweet spot. There are no narrative shortcuts -- no cheap jump scares (save for one), no lazy deus ex machinas, nor does the protagonist make unessecarily stupid decisions -- any missteps he makes are essential aspects of his character or come as a result of a lack of information, as opposed to the writer not knowing how to properly construct a scene.

- The twist is competent and functions on multiple levels. This is a film that rewards you upon a second viewing -- all the pieces were set up organically and hidden in plain sight. Dialogue and character traits carried weight and significance beyond the surface, with not much of it wasted as filler.

- The use of visual and auditory symbolism was a high note for me. Utilizing Childish Gambino's "Redbone", as a nice bit of foreshadowing, cautioning the audience to "stay woke." That was a particular standout for me.

“[Get Out] also sheds light on the kind of benevolent racism that comes from polite, well meaning, unassuming, wealthy, often liberal minded, white people.”

The Complex:

If you watched the trailer, you possibly discerned that Get Out is about black people's fear of white people's fear of black people (did you get that?) -- the abject paranoia that we sometimes experience while in predominantly white and unfamiliar spaces. The film could have stuck with that as it's primary thematic focus and still succeeded as a relatively solid piece, but luckily for us, Jordan Peele decided to bring his A-game and digs much deeper, focusing heavily on less obvious, and arguably darker, aspects of race relations in America.

The brilliant thing about Get Out goes back to what I said earlier about the narrative subverting your expectations. Hollywood loves to make emotionally manipulative heavy handed movies about racism -- whether it be about the overtly racist social structures that burdened black people during slavery and Jim Crow, or movies about one-toothed hillbilly Neo-Nazi's and Klan members. These are films that essentially make the modern white person feel good about themselves -- as to say, "Isn't it great that we're not like those people anymore?"

Jordan Peele was smart enough to avoid the obvious message and construct a narrative that speaks to the more subtle aspects of systematic racism that black people know and understand well, but are harder to pin down with simple verbiage. The movie doesn't contain a group of villainous confederate flag waving rednecks out to enslave unsuspecting black people. If this were the case then there would be no narrative tension because the audience would already know what's coming. The story and it's caucasian antagonists' motivations are far more complex.

I, once upon a time, wrote a facebook post about how I'm not in the least bit worried about the KKK. I know they hate me and I can willfully avoid those people. I'm worried about the nice old lady down the street in the predominantly white upper middle class neighborhood that I live in, who could call the police on me while I'm running down her street, in a black hoodie, because I look "suspicious."

In addition to touching on eugenics, the institution of slave auctioning, white people's expectations of black behavior, and the painful history of white rape / appropriation of black bodies and culture (see. Thomas Jefferson or Kylie Jenner), Jordan Peele seems to want to point out that we're all a little racist and posses cultural blind spots that need filling.

Peele not only use horror to dissect the complex lingering effects of long standing colonialism, within a given population — on both the colonizer and the colonized — but also sheds light on the kind of benevolent racism that comes from polite, well meaning, unassuming, wealthy, often liberal minded, white people. The kind of racism that tries way too hard to make black people feel comfortable by pulling out a mental list of "black history facts" and "things that negroes like to do" and unloading it all in the form of misguided greetings, compliments, ice breakers, cheerful banter and unwanted physical contact.

The kind of racism that assures black people that, "I am most certainly not racist! I voted for Obama two times." The kind of racism that's oblivious to it's maliciousness. The kind of racism that genuinely comes from a good place, but because of willful ignorance, is none the less misguided and short sighted. The kind of racism that fetishizes black bodies. The kind of racism that looks down on us while simultaneously cherry picking desired traits — positioning us as something more akin to costumes to be worn, instead of fully formed human beings.

I feel like there will be a stark difference in the way that white people and black people process certain scenes. There are moments in the film that some white people might laugh at, passing it off as quirky parody, but to black people -- the barrage of micro-aggressions thrown at the protagonist -- will undoubtedly conjure a fuck ton of heavy emotions and disgruntled moans, leaving their palms sweaty by films end. There are moments where the expressions on the protagonist's face will be instantly recognized by, and all too familiar to, black people, but may go completely over the heads of everyone else. This is the first film I've ever seen that articulates the stress we feel of having to constantly having to defend our fears to those who don't understand. For us, Get Out is potent psychological anxiety trip, through and through, laying bare the uncertainty we feel towards the dozens of tiny everyday social interactions we have with white people — the mental negotiations we make within ourselves to avoid confrontation, and then go home to laugh about it amongst our own to keep from crying.

Get Out spoke to me on a viscerally emotional level. It truly unnerved me and masterfully contextualized an aspect of my experience as a black man in this country that is so often extremely difficult to articulate.

I hope that people who see the film come to understand its true depth as a modern fable and cautionary tale. It's a film that asks us to take a step back, look at ourselves and reanalyze how we choose to relate to, and treat one another. I'm impressed that it even exists, much less has had a successful wide release thus far.

No film is without flaws, and neither is this one, but Get Out succeeds on so many fronts and gets so much right, that it's flaws are small potatoes and do not affect the overall quality and potency of it's message and purpose.

Get Out stuck with me hours after I left the theatre. I can't stress enough how amazing it was -- a testament to the inherent value of black people telling their own stories -- and is destined to be a classic. This is an absolute game changer, not to mention, being arguably the first good black horror film ever conceived...like...ever.

Damn near perfect.

...but seriously, who threw that deer at the car though?

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Cinephilia 001 | Captain America: Civil War

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illustration by Ryan Meinerding

Captain America: Civil War was pretty damn good. Not the revelation that Winter Soldier was, but it’s up there with the best of MARVEL's ever expanding roster of films.

No spoilers (promise)

First and foremost...Black Panther. Made. Me. MOIST. I went into this with muted expectations about him and how well he'd translate on screen — would they try way too hard to make him feel genuinely important and powerful and well, African...and turn him into a Tyler Perry-esque abomination? But as soon as I saw T'Challa, as soon as I saw one of his Dora Milaje (bodyguards) (statuesque, proudly bald and intimidating women at that...screw Gal Gadot's Wonder Woman, honestly...Amazonian, my ass), as soon as I saw a wealth of dark skinned men and women that weren't represented in a stereotypical, overstated, or overbearingly regal or insecure way, I couldn't help but grin from ear to ear and giggle like a Japanese school girl. He was my favorite thing about this movie and I can't wait to see his solo film. I feel like his presence could create a shift in Hollywood, opening the door for more dark skinned leading roles in WELL CRAFTED science fiction and fantasy films, especially for dark skinned women. If you have black geeky comic book, fantasy or sci-fi loving children...take them to see this, please!

Make no bones about it, between BvS and Civil War we were sold the same film twice, but the latter is far superior in execution than the former. However Marvel has the benefit of several years worth of development and DC clearly is just trying to play catch up in the worst way possible. Take notes Zach Snyder; THIS is how you handle an ensemble cast of comic book giants (hint hint). The film is funny when it can be and serious when it needs to be. Cap and Tony's motivations and stances were CLEARLY defined, you understood exactly why they clashed, you cared about them, and the resolution to their conflict had real weight and consequences.

Because of it's massive cast and character thread high wire juggling act, some will be quick to call this Avengers 2.5. But make no mistake, this is a Captain America's story. He is the protagonist and the main character — Cap experiences the most change and his actions have a substantial and dynamic effect on those around him.

You understand both sides of the conflict and neither was definitively right or wrong. You have a hard time figuring out who you root for. The text was mature without feeling the need to try and be unnecessarily intellectual. Both sides had their reasons, both walked away altered and flawed and it was lovely. Ultimately I was on Cap's side, but I truly felt bad for both him and Tony.

There’s a good mix of humor and drama. That battle royal style airport set piece was amazing. A villain you could sympathize with in some small way. Spider-Man stole the show in the few minutes he was on screen. The fight choreography was complex and hefty. Bucky's arm...idk...I just think his metal arm is cool and I want one. The plot resolution between Cap and Tony. Captain America's films continue to be a driving force for substantial status quo change in the MCU.

“Not the revelation that Winter Soldier was, but it’s up there with the best of MARVEL’s ever expanding roster of films.”

The pacing was a little off in the first third or so. But even here, I'm hard pressed to find ways to avoid it. The Russo Bros. had to check off a laundry list of elements mandated by the suits at Disney, so I think, like Whedon before them, they did the best they could with what they had. And maybe the next round they will get even better at it...or not...who knows.

At this point, MARVEL is a well oiled machine running at peak efficiency. The films follow a strict formula that somehow remains fun and enjoyable to me despite my waning interest with superheroes in general, and doesn't come off as completely trite, but they ride the line a lot of the time.

There's a lot going on here, and again, a symptom of the ever expanding MCU. Some of the scene transitions and the way some characters are introduced/enter and exit the film feel disjointed. This particularly affected Black Panther and Spider-Man, the latter of which had no real reason to be in this film, despite being really cool to watch. The Black Panther's driving motivation came off a tad cheesy and flat in my opinion. These two were clearly put in here because the MCU sequel set up machine demands it, so I mean, hey...those pesky corporate mandates...what can you do? Am I right Russo Bros?

The airport scene was awesome, as I said. But it felt like filler because, no one was was really trying to hurt anyone...except Black Panther...he was definitely trying to kill Bucky. The real drama, the real thrust of the story, is the between Black Panther and Buck and Tony and Cap -- that's when the meat of the tension arises, sadly, I felt it was too little too late by the time it climaxes.

Speaking of Black Panther, while I enjoyed him, I hope that he doesn't end up becoming this romanticized uber regal mary sue, who is serious all the time and can do no wrong. I'm completely done with our culture's habit of worshiping monarchy as if it's lifestyle one should strive for, It would be great if we gave ACTUAL intellectual and vocational pursuits some time to shine and let the, "I'm rich bitch," philosophy on life, rest a little bit. But anyway, when fans fall in love with a character, particularly one that looks like them (in this case one that looks like me), those fans sometimes tend to project their own insecurities onto that character, balancing all of their hopes and dreams on the shoulders of that character. And if those impossible standards of righteous godhood, demanded of these characters, are not met, accusations of sabotage will begin to fly (despite half of these "fans" not knowing a damn thing about Black Panther before this movie was announced in the first place). That push for intellectual, psychological and physical perfection from people can and will suck the humanity out of a character with as much potential to become internationally iconic as Black Panther. I hope BP doesn't end up a victim of this. Keep him human; keep him interesting...please.

The villain, while sympathetic and fitting, I was unclear as to how he was able to execute a large chunk of his plan.

Well ultimately well shot and choreographed, the first couple of action set pieces could have been just a tiny bit clearer and edited smoother in some spots. Wider shots with less quick cuts so that I could absorb what was going on in those moments a littler better, would have made them golden.

The position some characters took on the overarching conflict seemed forced and didn't make complete sense for their circumstances.

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Journal 002 | The Trouble With Visiting Middle Earth as a Working Adult

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Matt Ferguson

You don't just watch The Lord of The Rings, you spend quality time with it. You can't just up and decide you're going to immerse yourself in this kind of experience, all willy nilly out of the blue, especially if you paid a hundred bucks for the extended, four hour per movie edition, like I did...like an ass. You've got to plan it, like a vacation, a really expensive one.

If you are a college student, particularly one who survives off refund checks and parental care packages, attempting to watch The Lord of The Rings trilogy in its entirety is a breeze. The weekends are wide open to you. Buy a bunch of snacks, sugared drinks, some Ibuprofen, and go nuts. Luckily, The Lord of The Rings is an institution that is deeply imbedded within popular culture, so if you have some semblance of a social life, it will remain in tact. Your friends will understand; the trilogy is rather awesome. However, you will need to prepare yourself to turn down any and all summons to clubs, house parties, BBQs and romantic rendezvous, as you will not have any time for such frivolous pleasures while following Frodo Baggins and The Fellowship on their perilous journey to Mount Doom...THIS IS SERIOUS BUSINESS!!

“You can’t just up and decide you’re going to visit Middle Earth; that’s rich people people shit.”

However for the rest of us who work 9 to 5, forty hours a week, exploring Tolkien's world requires taking significant time off from these insufferable little appendages called, “jobs.” And most people only gets one week worth of vacation time for the whole year, and or a handful of sick days, so you gotta be tactful; you can't waste them. You have other priorities. You're gonna wanna use that time to socialize with friends, catch up on yard work, travel and visit family. You can't just up and decide you're going visit Middle Earth, that's rich people shit. You have to carve out time for The Fellowship.

If you have small children, you might want to get a good babysitter, or pawn them off on your attention deprived parents, or devise some type of indefinite distraction, because despite the inherent whimsy of Middle Earth, it won't hold the attention of a toddler for twelve hours. This does not include the time you will need to take power naps, bathroom breaks and emergency snack runs. You can't feed the little bastards, change diapers AND watch The Battle of Helm's Deep at the same time; it's not possible!

 Honestly, you mine-as-well book a flight to Martha's Vineyard and do something worth the precious time you're wasting. Anything less than well coordinated travel arrangements and verified time off work will probably result in you being fired, because I mean, a person who shucks their financial responsibilities to play World of Warcraft for a couple of days doesn't deserve a paycheck, and neither do you.

Misc 003 | No More Labels

This is an excerpt from a TED Talk called No More Labels, by Wanuri Kahiu, a Kenyan science fiction filmmaker and storyteller. It deals with science fiction and fantasy storytelling by artists who are African or of the diaspora, and the issues of racial identity amongst artists from Africa and of the diaspora. If you want to watch the whole video, I've added the link to it below.

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Part of my journey has been, first saying that science fiction is not weird in Africa. It is not special. It is not curious. It is not an original thing. We have always been telling stories and in our stores, even as oral storytellers, we have used nature in our stories. We have talked about animals. We have talked about the ability of organic sciences in all of our stories. We have had fantasies. We have had myths in our own legends about our own self creation. Those things have existed, but recently there's been a phenomenon of labeling things, "Afro" this, or "Afro" that...

And one of those things that happened is my work started being labeled afro-futurist, and I appreciate the idea of afro-futurism because it brings together or draws attention to works and pieces of art that have either some sort of fiction or they bring in ideas of myth -- science fiction, speculative fiction, fantasy, and enveloped them into one.

“Part of my journey has been, first saying that science fiction is not weird in Africa.”

— Wanuri Kahiu

But my concern is that by labeling my work as an Afro-futurist work, it means that it's very specific to people of the Diaspora, or people who are black, or people who are afro-something, and that concerns me because the story that I told was motivated by the very idea that I hate bottled water. I hate the fact that you have to buy bottled water -- the idea that you have to buy natural resources, because where does it end?

And that's the reason I really created Pumzi. When we, ourselves, start labeling ourselves, "afro" this or "afro" that -- when it doesn't matter what we do as an artist, if you are from Africa or if you're a person of the diaspora, you will immediately get that anyway. It doesn't matter if I stood here and I said, "I'm a filmmaker," there will be people who leave this audience and say, "Do you remember that black filmmaker from Kenya?"

That's what will happen whether I want it to happen or not. These are the things that will be imposed on us. So instead of us labeling ourselves and making it more specific and segregating ourselves from the whole human experience, I urge you to think wider than that and to have less labels and maybe just to Be...

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Misc 002 | Intergalactic Collard Greens

Edward Makuka

This editorial was taken from PEOPLE OF COLO(U)R DESTROY SCIENCE FICTION! by Lightspeed Magazine.

My science fiction education began with a simple realization — humans are white.

As a chubby, country black boy from a city in the south with a larger than average population of African-American people taking up physical, cultural, and social space, every part of my life was surrounded by and suffused with blackness. Every part, that is, except the pieces of my life reserved for the consumption of science fiction. My black friends and I engaged with space, with planetary jumps and starship crews and time travel and alien fauna, through the lens of white humans, white heroes, and white culture. Is it any wonder, then, that my fledgling science fiction tales were full of these same white humans? This is not a singular experience, either. Talk to any person of color who possessed a childhood interest in creating science fiction. Many of them will report doing the same, or similar.

Science fiction’s great self-declared distinction from fantasy is the presence of steadfast rules, usually governed by applications of hard science. Mainstream science fiction also seemed to possess a set of very scientific rules regarding what happened when one encountered blacks:

There were never more than three black people in any respective galaxy, except for random planets somehow chock-full of blacks who were unable to progress their culture past iron spears and loincloths.

Blacks were not allowed to interact with each other. Instead they were required to float alone and lonely through their respective spaces like lumbering chocolatey gas giants.

If someone absolutely had to die in order to move the plot forward or gird the loins of the hero, it would be someone who looked like the black consumer, or the black consumer’s sister, or the black consumer’s best friend, or the black consumer’s black next-door neighbor.

“My science fiction education began with a simple realization — humans are white.”

— Troy L. Wiggins

To paraphrase Richard Pryor, white folks didn’t seem to want no niggers in the future.

Perhaps this is why the future is so important to black people, and why it is so painful for us when we are excluded from most mainstream futures. Hundreds of years of subjugation, of overt and covert messages of disdain and unworthiness weigh on a soul. Black people have long been working toward stepping into a promised land where they could be treated fairly and equally—not as people without color, but as people who are considered human despite their skin.

We’ve long since learned that, in order to exist in myriad streams of time and space, we have to create our own lanes in order to show and prove that the stories of nonwhite humans matter. We’ve birthed works of science fiction that have imagined us in worlds where we would not be murdered simply for existing. We’ve considered the effects of spacetime on our bodies, and interwoven Africa into the cosmos. We’ve written, painted, and harmonically tattooed our bodies, our myriad identities amongst the stars. As always, we black creators have taken the dregs of what we’ve been given and created something of wonder from it.

Intergalactic collard greens, if you will.

When we’re talking about destroying science fiction, black people and other groups of people of color have been neck deep in the work. For centuries, we have dared to imagine, depict, and explore the reaches of space, time, and power on our own, with no approval or interaction from the powers that are. We’ve already lifted our voices, and our voices have been a mighty wave, powerful enough to show the universe that we are here, in the midst of science fiction—that we’ve been here, and that we aren’t going anywhere.

We’re just waiting on the rest of you to catch up.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Troy L. Wiggins is from Memphis, Tennessee. He was raised on a steady diet of comic books, fantasy fiction, and role-playing games. His short fiction and essays have appeared or are forthcoming in Griots: Sisters of the Spear, Long Hidden: Speculative Fiction from the Margins of History, The Mash-Up Americans, Literary Orphans, and Memphis Noir. He is a contributor at Book Riot and Panels, and he blogs about the intersection of speculative fiction, race, and nerd culture at Afrofantasy. Troy lives in Memphis with his wife and their expatriate.

You can find him on Twitter @TroyLWiggins.

Journal 001 | Too Many Kings, Not Enough Cobblers

T'Challa as portrayed by Chadwick Boseman for MARVEL’s Black Panther

In my attempt at becoming a legit writer these past few years, two of the genres I've been most interested in studying are epic and heroic fantasy, which are typically filled with tales of gods and goddesses, the divinely destined, great kings and queens and princes and princesses and the like. I'm also fascinated (and possibly even perplexed) by the obsessive focus on royalty, and all of it's associated traits, in these stories and what they say about the way in which humanity contextualizes identity and or defines what it means to be a success and or valued.

Examples:

• Growing up, my great aunt Bernice would constantly tell me that I'm a king, or that I'm descendent from them, in order to instill a sense of self worth and confidence in me.

• Most of the stories I read as a small child started of with, "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful / mighty *insert nobility*..."

• A common term of endearment for one's child is "my little prince" or "princess."

• The idea of making it in life is often marked by the desire to "live like a king."

• Christian doctrine refers to Jesus Christ as the "King of Kings" and "The Lord of Lords."

• A lot of my friends, in seeking a mate say they are looking for their "king" or their "queen."

• My favorite (and THE greatest) movie of all time is The Lion KING...the supreme illustriousness of which is NOT up for debate!

I mean, it makes sense. In our culture, these words signify power, importance, status, prosperity, purity, blah, blah, etc, etc. And at some point in our lives, we all want to feel like we're special in some small way. We want to feel like the most important person in the room, or to know that our existence means something -- that we have a purpose and a destiny, or that we are secretly otherworldly, godlike or divine...or whatever.

For me, the older I get, the less my great aunt's words resonate or even mean anything. Technically, just about everyone alive today is descended from a king, somewhere --  I mean, these people fucked A LOT and often left behind a assload of illegitimate children. Genghis Khan allegedly bedded so many women that 0.5% of the world's population can trace their lineage to him.

Most importantly, I don't particularly find pleasure in rose tinted feudalist power fantasies. I am no god. I am no king and it means nothing to me to be descended from one. Even better, I am a human being -- big brained fragile flesh and bone remnant of star stuff! Even better, I'm an artist...a designer to be specific -- a visual storyteller! That is my identity. That is my craft. My craft is useful to people; it pays the bills. I source my sense of purpose and confidence from this. You could say it's my religion. It gives me supreme confidence and covers me in a peace-of-mind I've never known anywhere else (hence the little guy with the umbrella...fyi).

Even though we almost all assuredly distrust the 1% -- even though we dream of and romanticize the idea of supreme revolution and the downfall of "the establishment," the vocabulary we use to instill a sense of pride within ourselves and our kin is often the same vocabulary of "the establishment." Some of us don't really want to tear down this establishment, we want to BE the establishment -- to know what it feels like to be that powerful -- to be seen as slightly better than or above another person or group of people.

In college, I attended and or organized dozens of talks related to black American societal issues, where, like clockwork, someone would proudly shout the perplexingly vague and abstract phrase, "we are all kings and queens." It's difficult to unpack the origins and psychological nuances of such a declaration in black American history, or how little sense it makes anymore for that matter. Nevertheless, a lot of black people draw Basquiat's crude crown above their heads. Everyone wants to build an empire. Disturbingly, everyone wants to be a classist monarch...like, everyone...at the same time...in the same space.

The latest interpretation of this mindset comes in the form of the word "Negus," which is a royal title in the Ethiopian Semitic languages and used in a recent Kendrick Lamar record to subvert the use of the word "nigga" and encourage black men to call themselves kings instead. As much as I want to appreciate the sentiment, it's an unproductive and outdated metaphor that, outside of the context of monarchy, makes absolutely no fucking sense if you think about it for more than three seconds, but I digress. It's almost weird to try and imagine people at these kinds of talks saying anything along the lines of, "Let's all be experts in our chosen fields of study!" or "I'm a strong black marine biologist!" or "I want to be a motherfuckin' botanist!"

You know...useful stuff.

“...the vocabulary we use to instill a sense of pride within ourselves and our kin is often the same vocabulary of the establishment.”

If you have small children, do you tell them they're princes or princesses, kings and queens? Have you ever asked yourself why you call them that? How often do you ask them what THEY wish to be?  or what they want to do with there lives when they grow up? How do they respond? If they say something crazy like, "Spaghetti Space Witch,"  it's cool...so did I at that age! Let their minds wonder; encourage their shenanigans!

Sooooooo...what does all that have to do with writing...

Stories are how us homo-sapiens relate to and connect with the world around us, how we most effectively communicate messages: warnings, history, morals, etc. The ardent focus of these stories on individuals who rule from an immaculately constructed throne of precious jewels as opposed to those who built said thrown or those who day in and day out work their hands to the bone to give something substantial back to society, says something about the way we view ourselves and or what we wish to be.

However, as a storyteller, I'm more interested in the lives of the proletariat than I am with those of the aristocracy. There are thousands of stories about gods and goddesses and kings and queens and princes and princesses -- the politicians of their day -- or often times humble knights or simple folk who are destined to become these things. But what about the sculptors? the painters? the bakers? the stonemasons? the architects? the shepherds? the poets? the fisherman? the mathematicians? the astrologers? the authors? Why do their lives and stories often take a back seat to those of their perceived betters?  Why so often do epic tales produce protagonists who are told "hey; you're special...just because."  Why not, at the very least, explore the ramifications of such a claim in depth? Why end with such an extreme absolute -- the character becoming some sort of ambiguously divine leader, who's successors will most certainly...not be insane power hungry fuck ups?

Why not just a really good swordsmith or a master potter? Not as interesting perhaps at first, but, o' the fun of being creative!!

I'm fascinated by the world before agricultural monopolies and organized religion, before feudalism and monarchs, where tribes of people named themselves based on the natural resources around them and the useful skills they mastered. I'm more interested in griots and shamans and hunters and gatherers, than I am of pharaohs and sultans and lords and ladies -- the arbitrary goings on of the upper caste nobility, deemed special and above everyone else, because they were born into the right family or because of the wealth said family accumulated, as opposed to actually possessing any useful skills...other than manipulation.

For many, one's sense of identity, comes from the command of one's trade -- the knowledge that their particular set of skills, honed over a period of time, have value within their nation/tribe and or to nature. For some cultures, this is the source of the surname -- John Mason (John the mason); Alana Archer (Alana the archer) it was essentially their title -- something they took immense pride and honor in, and in turn, these people would pass that skill and identity down to their sons and daughters, or to an apprentice.

Stories of gods and nobility are epic and riveting romantic dramas, and full of individuals destined to bring peace to a ravaged land -- selfless brave individuals fighting valiantly for a just and noble cause -- wise beyond their years and beloved by all. However in reality, more so often than not, kings and queens were selfish, savage, narcissistic, petty, greedy, inbred megalomaniacs. Gout use to be known as a rich man's disease...a king's affliction.

Regular folk do epic shit too! Regular folk do awesome shit even! It's debated whether or not, Shakespeare -- one of the most important playwrights in human history -- was of noble birth, because "SURELY a lowly commoner couldn't have written anything as tragic and beautiful as Macbeth!"

Right (sarcasm).

I enjoy stories that play with the these tropes -- deconstruct them and build the narrative back up into something a little more honest. Recently I read an article on George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire (thanks Eric!), a section of which discussed the ways in which Martin plays with are idealistic notions of nobility.

“In the context of romantic high fantasy, the show’s sado-masochistic narrative engine had a moderately subversive purpose. The Starks were nobility who were actually noble, and they embodied the daydream that powers High Fantasy: the romantic belief that Kings and Queens and Princes and Princesses are Good People, that being good and being high not only go together, but do so naturally.

The first book is built around the lead-up to Ned Stark’s death; the next two books lead up to the Red Wedding, which kills or scatters all the good guys. It’s tragedy because the end is predetermined: as long as the Starks are who they are—honorable, noble, and just—they are doomed to lose at the game of thrones. 

To play the game of thrones, you have to play to win; you have to kill your darlings. If you don’t, you’ll die. The Starks don’t; they die.”

- George R. R. Martin
 

As I mentioned earlier, the high born aristocracy of various ancient kingdoms -- from Mali, to Egypt to Rome, to Japan -- were all essentially high born politicians completely disconnected from the lives of lower class society and shaped history in their image in spite of the ramifications those choices had on their subjects. So when I'm reading less nuanced tales of noble lords and ladies, it's hard not to roll my eyes at the relative absurdity of their moral purity, and remind myself that history is almost always written by the victors. To be fair, what idiot, wanting to inspire a millennia of strength and loyalty, would have the archives speak ill of their deeds -- underlining their weaknesses and faults? Kings and queens can be aggressively strategic and sensible liars, at best, I'll give them that.

but I digress...(am I using that right?)

A jeli or griot of West Africa

I'm more interested in social realism -- the stories of simple blacksmiths, or the stories of storytellers themselves -- which use to be an important-ass-job in antiquity. Griots, for example, were West African historians, storytellers, musicians and or poets. They were the keepers of oral tradition and history and often seen as a societal leaders and respected for their craft and their wisdom. They don't get enough admiration in modern culture, in my opinion.

Stories of great kings overshadow the hundreds of beautifully simple, sometimes dark, pagan (which means: of the country, associated with individuals who don't adhere to Christian, Muslim or Jewish doctrine) folk tales of mythical creatures interacting with the common folk in colorful ways. Some people will go on and on about king or pharaoh whoever-whats-his-face, sitting on his throne, pointing his crooked inbred finger as the lower classes break their backs to build crap for him. They often completely neglect or ignore the intimate and much more relatable (human) pros of vulnerability and nature and love and loss and life and death, to be found in the tales told by people doing all of the damn work...if they are aware of them at all! These are the vestiges of a rich oral culture that flourished before the advent of Empires.

For example, aziza are fairies based in Dahomey mythology (present day Benin...which is in West Africa). Living in the forest, they provide good magic for hunters. They gave useful and practical knowledge to people, including knowledge of the use of fire. The Aziza are described as little hairy people and are said to live in anthills and silk-cotton trees.

Another example of good ass folk shit are Selkies. These are Irish/Scottish creatures who are said to live as seals in the sea but shed their skin to become human on land. Stories about them are generally romantic tragedies. They typically seek those who are dissatisfied with their life, such as married women waiting for their fishermen husbands. If a woman wishes to make contact with a selkie male, she must shed seven tears into the sea. If a man steals a female selkie's skin she is in his power and is forced to become his wife. Female selkies are said to make great wives, but because their true home is the sea, they will often be seen gazing longingly at the ocean. If she finds her skin she will immediately return to her true home, and sometimes to her selkie husband, in the sea. Sometimes, a selkie maiden is taken as a wife by a human man and she has several children by him.

Song of the Sea US Trailer

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In these stories, it is one of her children who discovers her sealskin (often unwitting of its significance) and she soon returns to the sea. The selkie woman usually avoids seeing her human husband again but is sometimes shown visiting her children and playing with them in the waves.

If you're interested, watch Song of The Sea...good stuff.

“History books tell us about the wars and politics of a nation, but a region’s folklore tells us about popular culture and popular beliefs of its times.”

— Renegade Cut

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Misc 001 | Morality in Storytelling

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This is a excerpt from a short documentary, called  The Essence of Humanity, which analyzes the storytelling philosophy and craft of legendary filmmaker, Hayao Miyazaki. The entire film is posted below if you'd like to view it.

Unlike traditional fantasy, Miyazaki doesn't present morality as a simple binary. The dichotomy of good vs evil isn't present in these films. Everything and everyone displays elements of tenderness as well as elements of savagery. Nothing in the world is either one or the other, is an amalgamation of all emotions within a spectrum. The same way Lady Eboshi wants to destroy the forest yet at the same time houses the sick and gives the inhabitants of iron town a good lifestyle, Miyazaki purposes a theme of morality that’s complex. It's not shown to repress the negative aspects of humanity because they exist all around us; it's part of nature. Brutality and tenderness co-exist without any contradictions in these worlds, as they do in our own.

This realism avoids pandering to an audience to give an unflinching view of our own existence, but the message we see is that the story is never about the protagonist winning, it's about the protagonist adapting and growing within a world that isn't built around their needs. We're confronted with harsh realities, however they're addressed so that something better may arise.

“The story is never about the protagonist winning, it’s about the protagonist adapting and growing within a world that isn’t built around their needs.”

— Hayao Miyazaki

Many [American] animations end with everything tied in a neat bow, saved by a deus ex-machina that solved everything. But there hasn't really been any development of the character. They achieve their goal without overcoming any long lasting personal obstacles. On the other hand, Miyazaki characters never end as the audience expected. They begin flawed and remain flawed, but their experiences have helped blossom their outlook. Ashitaka's scar may still remain, and no one may ever understand or believe Chihiro, but the solidarity and connection they've made with their world is an example of a spiritual liberation of the character instead of a material one.

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