Giselle Defares – Bitch Flicks

The Sacred Heart of ‘Amélie’

Whether or not it was the intent of director Jean-Pierre Jeunet, Amélie can be seen as the female representation of a Christ figure in a modern tragedy. … Amélie’s love, like that of Christ, is selfless and knows no boundaries. … Amélie is altruistic and doesn’t hesitate to help other people.

This guest post is written by Giselle Defares.

The idea of love, chance and destiny – the cause and effect relationship – are themes that frequently occur in our cinematic history. For most of us, love is the strongest emotion that we know, an emotion that can entail powerful forces. In Amélie, love and happiness are hidden in the mundane things of life. Or in the case of Amélie, it’s putting the tip of her spoon on the caramelized layer of sugar on her crème brûlée.

“To ask one of these kinds of newspapers in Paris to love Amélie is like asking the Pope to put on a condom. They hate these kinds of movies.” This quote from the French director Jean-Pierre Jeunet, reflects the controversy, at that time, surrounding Amélie. This extravagant romantic film was loved around the world except within the French film establishment. The interview took place in May 2001 and it appears Jeunet’s comments possessed a kernel of truth because the Cannes Film Festival refused to put Amélie in the official selection.

The self-taught director Jeunet is known for his astonishing visuals – see also his specific mise-en-scène, heavy use of color, CGI and voice-over narration. He took a light-hearted approach with Amélie instead of the inaccessible and often gloomy atmosphere of his earlier films such as Delicatessen and The City of Lost Children. It starts with the opening scene where you’re bombarded with trivia and funny facts. Jeunet’s style is reminiscent of the prologue of Paul T. Anderson’s Magnolia or Tom Twykers’ Run Lola Run. Amélie became a worldwide box office success and also earned five Oscar nominations.

Amélie centers around Amélie Poulain (Audrey Tautou), a sensitive young woman, who after the death of her mother has withdrawn into her own fragile world, where the smallest pleasures of life are her priority. She works as a waitress in a corner bistro, until the day that Princess Diana dies in a car crash and everything changes. The shock of the news causes Amélie to drop a bottle cap, which unlocks a stone in the wall of her apartment, which leads her to discover a very old box in which a young boy used to hoard his treasures. Amélie tracks the boy – now an older man – down, and in returning his old, rusty box, Amélie finds her reason to live. She will make people happy in extraordinary ways.

Most of the scenes are shown in chronological order but there are several smaller storylines and flashbacks interwoven. Jeunet has an interesting way of playing with dialogue in the film. Amélie often loses the ability to properly communicate in important moments. The overarching role of the omniscient narrator — the key link between various scenes and sequences — becomes more important. The narrator continuously informs the viewer of Amélie’s personal thoughts and feelings.

Whether or not it was the intent of Jeunet, Amélie can be seen as the female representation of a Christ figure in a modern tragedy. In Bible and Cinema: Fifty Key Films, Adele Reinhartz gives two basic criteria that a movie character must meet in order to be seen as a Christ figure:

“That there be some direct and specific resemblance to Christ (though a full replication in every detail is not essential); and that the fundamental message associated with the possible Christ-figure has to be consistent with the life and work of Christ, and not contrary to his message about liberation and love.”

Amélie’s love, like that of Christ, is selfless and knows no boundaries. A representation of this point can be seen when she appears in several scenes in a Zorro costume. She disguises herself in order to help the people in her community. This is evident when she intervenes in the bullying of Lucien, who is monoplegic, as well as helping a blind man crossing the street. In that sense, Amélie is altruistic and doesn’t hesitate to help other people.

Several religious references occur in the dialogue. Dominique Bretodeau, the man who’s reunited with his rusty box of childhood treasures, calls Amélie an “angel” and states that she must be his “guardian angel.” Throughout the film, Amélie’s actions are referred to as a miracle. It’s important to note that her actions often leave the person confused as if an “outside or divine force” has intervened in their lives.

The turning point in the film is the sequence where Amélie views a memorial broadcast of her own death on television where she’s shown as a nun, washing the feet of the blind man, next to the Sacré-Coeur Basilica. This is similar to the moment that Jesus washed the feet of his disciples – an act of love and humility. The narrator later calls her in that moment the “Madonna of the unloved.”

The memorial scene functions as a symbolic death, since Amélie is still alive afterwards. She was afraid that her life had no more meaning after she accomplished everything she wanted. The narrator then states, “As she went, she felt a stab of regret for letting her father die without trying to give his stifled life the breath of air she had given to so many others.” Thus, she’s revived again knowing that her task is far from fulfilled, and that others closest to her, such as her father, require help as well. This leads to the moment where Amélie visits her father’s house and takes his garden gnome, who she uses for her good deed towards him.

Aforementioned, color plays an important role in the visual style of Jeunet and that’s certainly noticeable throughout the film. Jeunet manipulated and used various grading of color. The saturated color palette of the film – red, green and yellow are dominant – reflects the happy feelings of Amélie. Often colors clash when Jeunet chose sepia tones and black and white, which signals intrusion in the lives of the characters. The use of CGI is most noticeable when it comes to Amélie’s imagination – see the visualization of her loneliness via an animated crocodile or Amélie’s “sacred heart.”

In Jeunet’s portrayal of Amélie’s “sacred heart,” a clear parallel exists with Christian iconography. The Most Sacred Heart of Jesus is a Catholic icon which represents the love of Jesus Christ. It’s often portrayed as a human heart surrounded by flames. Amélie’s heart is displayed in a bright yellow and orange glow which clearly draws on the connotation of the sacred heart of Jesus Christ. The cinematography in this particular scene is interesting since Jeunet breaks a shot – a reverse shot between Amélie and her crush, in order to show the heart of Amélie but resumes afterwards. Thus his cinematography breaks with what you would expect and leads the viewer’s gaze towards the heart.

Tautou is phenomenal in her role as Amélie and she deservedly received several award nominations (including a BAFTA Award and César Award) for her portrayal. She truly carries the film and has great chemistry with all the other characters. Admittedly, the storyline is quite thin and some characters feel like cardboard cutouts, but Tautou saves the film with her doe-eyed likeableness.

Initially it seems that Amélie is content in her role as anonymous benefactor, whilst secretly crushing on the shy Nino – who collects photos from automated photo booths people don’t want; as you do. Until, an old neighbor tells her: “You don’t have bones of glass. You can take life’s knocks. If you let this chance pass, eventually, your heart will become as dry and brittle as my skeleton.” The call to embrace life to its fullest is original, playful and engagingly filmed by Jeunet. A charming film with lots of heart, even the most stoic viewer would succumb to the magic of Amélie.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lrlQR_KH_nw

Giselle Defares comments on film, fashion (law) and American pop culture. See her blog here http://zilvertong.tumblr.com/ or follow her on twitter at @zilvertong.

The Illusion of Beauty in ‘Flesh and Bone’

This is a guest post by Giselle Defares.

The Nutcracker, Swan Lake, the experimental modern ballet in your local theater–audiences are enthralled with elegant women who can dance on two toes. The entertainment industry repeatedly tried to accurately capture the dance world with various results. From Showgirls (1995) to Center Stage (2000), to Black Swan (2010), most of the time it’s a shallow portrayal of the drama in the dance world. In the TV landscape there are the documentaries: Misty Copeland’s A Ballerina’s Tale and Sarah Jessica Parker narrated City.Ballet. Yet the scripted TV shows didn’t fare well. CW had a modest hit with the “reality show” Breaking Pointe, ABC Family tried it with Bunheads, and in the Netflix catalog there’s the Australian show Dance Academy. It’s hard to engage an audience outside the theater. However, the pay cable network Starz likes a challenge and created their ambitious project Flesh and Bone.

The executive-producer, former dancer and brains behind the show is Moira Walley-Beckett who previously wrote for AMC’s Breaking Bad. She recounted to USA Today that for the leading role she was determined to find a dancer who could act, instead of an actress who has to endure rigorous training to execute the complicated ballet routines. It seems like a callback to the dance classic The Red Shoes (1948), which starred the renowned ballerina Moira Shearer. Yet after auditioning over a hundred girls Walley-Beckett became disillusioned. The network and Walley-Beckett decided to cast a wider net, searched abroad and that’s when they found the fabulous Sarah Hay. According to an interview with WWD, Hay was raised in New Jersey by artist parents, and she commuted every day of the week to train – first with the New York City Ballet, and then with ABT itself. After graduating she struggled to fit in because of her “curvy” physique and decided to try her luck abroad and became a soloist at the Semperoper Ballet in Dresden, Germany.

Flesh and Bone was created with a multiple season arc in mind and there’s certainly a lot of material to explore. From competitive jealousy to body image issues and pushing your personal limits to get to the top to the realization that your dream is not what you’ve envisioned over all those years. It turned out that the show was quite a gamble for the network and incredibly expensive; think rehearsal time, space, choreographers and physical therapy for the dancers. It seems that other shows in the Starz line up, such as Ash v. Evil Dead, got the preferential treatment. It was only a couple of weeks before the show premiered that Starz announced that Flesh and Bone would be an eight-episode mini-series.

Flesh and Bone centers around the young and talented ballerina Claire Robbins (Sarah Hay) who escapes her tormented family life in Pittsburgh, when she hears the news that her soldier brother Bryan (Josh Helman) returns from Afghanistan, to try out for the fictional New York’s American Ballet Company, which she makes on her first attempt. Once she’s accepted in the corps of the Ballet Company, she struggles with Kiira (Irina Dvorovenko), a principal dancer who is almost at the end of her prime, her roommate Mia (Emily Tyra) who isn’t quite as talented as Claire and the larger-than-life artistic director Paul (Ben Daniels) who’s is still dealing with the loss of his own talent and sees in Clair his golden goose to a revitalized career.

Many have described the show as a “dark and gritty” ballet series. Of course there are the obligatory shots of the ruined feet and bloody toenails and the tedious exercises at the barre, but the framework is focused on personal drama. Comparisons are easily made with the aforementioned Center Stage and Black Swan. What they have common is that they’re focused on the art form ballet as the essence of drama. In all three stories, the audience sees the conflict, stress, and the cutthroat competition within a ballet school or company. Yet, compared to the other stories it almost seems that there’s no silver lining in Flesh and Bone.

Flesh and Bone doesn’t avoid the major clichés. Claire is the naïve girl who follows her dream and loses her innocence in the big city. There’s the tough, rich girl Daphne (Raychel Diane Weiner) who also dances as an exotic dancer and who has a questionable friendship with a Russian mobster (Raychel’s tattoo of “Take No Prisoners” inspired the art department). Paul has a Latino rent boy who gives him affection and keeps calling him “Papi.” Claire’s predatory brother has big bad wolf engraved on his forehead. There’s an arc with the overly polite homeless man Romeo (Damon Herriman) (he walked straight out of The Fisher King) who lives outside Claire’s building and develops a small obsession with her; there’s Charlie from Center Stage (Sascha Radetsky) as Ross, who plays a straight bad boy who wants to get in everyone’s tights. And so on.

Since the show is aired on a pay cable network, sex and nudity make an appearance. For some the nudity could be gratuitous in order to give the show a more edgy character. At first glance, it seems that Claire is exploring her sexuality in unconventional ways. In the pilot, the audience is introduced to Claire’s new roommate, Mia, as she rides a nameless guy on the couch, which she later instructs Claire to sleep on. Paul sees no problem in using his dancers as escorts to get what he wants (all for the sake of the company of course), and there’s the exotic dancer subplot. Dancers are relatively comfortable in their bodies so being nude isn’t a far stretch.

The sex isn’t just sex; it’s often revolved around power plays and personal liberation. It’s interesting to see Claire navigate sexuality, because she seems terrified of the men she encounters and looks envious at other women who unapologetically use their sexuality. The crux of the story is Claire’s damaged psyche and how she’s able to free herself from the horrible abuse she endured. It must be said that Hay is an intriguing actress yet sometimes Claire’s passivity throughout the series becomes rather frustrating to watch – especially in the incestuous scenes between Claire and Bryan. The writers tried to incorporate the atrocities of under aged Russian sex slaves into the mix but they didn’t flesh out the characters. So once again a minor storyline fell flat.

So why watch Flesh and Bone? The astute attention to detail in the ballet scenes, the charismatic and talented dancers, the customs, heck even the opening credits are amazing. Hay has a fantastic screen presence and gives it her all with what she has been given. Daniels certainly enjoys his role as Paul and was marvelous in the moments where he was able to show what the stress of such an high-profile job does to a person when the mask is off. Dvorovenko nailed her part as the coke-addicted prima ballerina and Tyra milked her screen time for all its worth as Claire’s bitchy roommate. Despite the cliché role, Herriman is really compelling as Romeo. It’s unfortunate that Starz decided to create a limited series, therefore the (melo)drama was weighed down with loads of clichés and many supporting characters fell flat.

Will Flesh and Bone dance itself en pointe into our cultural lexicon? That remains to be seen. However, a niche audience will always be enthralled with the illusion of beauty in ballet.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C8wKm3grIxc”]

Giselle Defares comments on film, fashion (law), and American pop culture. See her blog here.

Secondhand Embarrassment in ‘Chewing Gum’

‘Chewing Gum’ is a gem and let’s hope that this is a good indication of the bright future that’s ahead of Michaela Coel.

This is a guest post by Giselle Defares.

At the 67^th prime time Emmy Awards, Viola Davis dropped several truth bombs during her acceptance speech after becoming the first African-American to win an Emmy for best actress in a drama: “The only thing that separates women of color from anyone else is opportunity.” Well, when no doors open you have to kick them in. In the UK there has been an underrepresentation of BAME (Black, Asian, and minority ethnic) actors in TV and film; most shows give an incorrect reflection of the British society, especially when it’s filmed in London, where 40 percent of the population is non-white. There are several initiatives such as The Act For Change Project lead by Danny Lee Wynter that campaigns to strengthen diversity in live and recorded arts. The lack of diversity is especially noticeable when it comes to British comedy. There were only a handful of comedy sketch shows in the last 20 years from Desmond’s to The Real McCoy to Little Miss Jocelyn, and that’s about it. Black British humor is underrated, period. Some artists venture out on their own thus leading the way. Enter Michaela Coel.

The Ghanaian-British actress/writer/poet Michaela Coel has forged her own path in the industry whilst being vulnerable and honest in her creativity. Coel was “discovered” by playwright and director Ché Walker during one of her poetry slams. He invited her to visit the masterclasses he held at RADA and from there she later obtained her degree from the Guildhall School for Music and Drama. In her last year, Coel created her own graduation piece, a 15-minute monologue that became the first version of her one-woman show Chewing Gum Dreams, which she later performed at the National Theater in London. In an interview with The Evening Standard, Coel explained that she wanted her show to reflect “the sort of life you don’t see very often on TV. Tracey’s sexual naiveté, for example, reflects [my own] celibacy between the ages of 17 and 22… I had a massive conversion to this very Pentecostal, demon-exorcising church. Getting to the point where I started to do not such a good job of being celibate, was awkward and horrible. So much guilt. Psychologically, I was in a whirlwind.”

Chewing Gum centers round Tracey Gordon (Michaela Coel), a 24-year-old who grew up on a council estate in east London in a strict religious environment who’s trying to alter her path in adulthood. She’s innocent and wise and equally adores her idols Beyoncé and Jesus. She stumbles her way through London and finds out the hard way what she should and shouldn’t be doing. While Tracey is trying to broaden her world, her sister Cynthia (Susan Wokoma) is content with their solemn life as long as she can play the board game Ludo with her family every night. Her overly religious mother Joy (Shola Adewusi) sermons innocent bystanders on the street with quips such as: “My dear, your vagina is holy. I command you to leave your nether regions be.” Tracey’s best friend Candice (Danielle Walters) and her grandmother Esther (Maggie Steed) are more worldly and they often gives her disastrous life advice. Tracey has been in a six-year relationship with her Pentecostal Christian boyfriend Ronald (John MacMillan) and is eager to lose her virginity with him, while Ronald says in his prayers, “We will wait till we die if it brings you glory.” Luckily for Tracey there’s the neighborhood poet Connor (Robert Lonsdale), who seems to really like her.

The first episode was enjoyable, filthy, funny, and loaded with secondhand embarrassment, but the balance between all the characters wasn’t quite there. Before Coel got the greenlight for her six episodes on Channel 4, she got the opportunity to create two comedy blaps to present her idea (unfortunately Channel 4 made them private on YouTube). She changed certain elements from the shorts and at some moments they worked better than what was aired in the first episode. It’s especially noticeable with the new Connor. The old Connor (Morgan Watkins) was slightly better at pulling off the dumb yet dorky character in a less self- conscious way. The new Connor feels a bit out of place (and dorkier) in the first episode, but it seems that Lonsdale will improve in the upcoming episodes. However, the addition of her Christian boyfriend Ronald is a great move.

Chewing Gum is refreshing since it breaks the mold of the overriding limited representation of minorities in the UK. Coel shows us a protagonist who deals with love, religion, classism, pop culture, and it’s set against the background of a council estate. Yet Tracey isn’t the archetype of the Black girl who’s often portrayed as either: unhappy, uneducated, poor, highly sexualized and surrounded by aggression and criminal behavior or other tropes that seem to be prevalent when it comes to the portrayal of the Black British experience within the media. – see Top Boy (fun fact: Coel had a small part in this show). The factor that binds the people on the estate together is, according to Coel, “class and community.”

Coel shines in her leading role. Tracey is kind, grounded and sweet whilst her best friend Candice has a more distinct personality: brash, bubbly and definitely more experienced when it comes to sex. Her advice to Tracey on her date with Ronald: “Just sit on his face.” Well, it went from innocent to filthy (yet funny) real quick. The relationships and the conversations that Tracey has with her friends and family are natural, see for instance the scenes where Tracey discusses her upcoming date with Candice:

Tracey: “ Candice, I’m 24, I’m a virgin. Yes. That doesn’t mean I wanna have sex with my boyfriend, yeah.”

Candice: “ You don’t have to. Bag someone on Tinder. It’s free. Set the thing to find someone in your borough, and walk. A tinder bang is not even a bus-fare, bruv.”

Tracey (looks into the camera): “Candice is like the buffest girl I’ve ever seen on the whole of my estate but she has learning difficulties so it sort of balances it all out. I can be best friends with her and I’m not even jealous or anything.”

Candice: “ You know if you leave it too long, you tear when he enters you. You need stitches.”

Tracey: “Yeah, well, thank god for the NHS then, innit.”

Tracey gives us a glimpse how awkward (extremely guarded) twentysomethings can operate. Comparisons are made with Girls by Lena Dunham or that the show is the British equivalent of The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl by Issa Rae. While Rae and Coel both managed to create their own space when there were no opportunities that’s where the similarities end. It’s fair to say that Chewing Gum stands on its own.

The appeal of Chewing Gum lies in the humor, the familiarity and quite frankly the second hand embarrassment when you see Tracey trying to fulfil her sexual fantasies. Coel gives us a Black female lead who doesn’t shy away from graphic (offensive) sexual humor. Susan Wokoma shines as the religious, younger sister Cynthia. The character could be one note but Wokoma shows her comedic chops. There’s great chemistry between Tracey, Candice and her grandmother Esther, hopefully their relationship will be explored. All the characters are well cast, but Candice and Connor need to be more fleshed out in the upcoming episodes.

Chewing Gum is the comedy with a Black female lead some of us have been waiting for. It’s not the representation of Blackness but it’s certainly nice to see a Black leading character who isn’t molded in archetypes, which can be damaging society’s perception of Black women. Tracey is open, vulnerable, filthy, funny and just trying to live life the best as she can. Chewing Gum is a gem and let’s hope that this is a good indication of the bright future that’s ahead of Michaela Coel.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dpm3UcJd3no”]

Giselle Defares comments on film, fashion (law) and American pop culture. See her blog here.

‘Sleepy Hollow’: The Phoenix Rises From Its Ashes?

While the episode wasn’t perfect we can only hope that ‘Sleepy Hollow’ will pull off what it has planned and at least for the time being there’s no need to dust off the #AbbieMillsDeservesBetter hashtag.

This is a guest post by Giselle Defares.

Will FOX be able to save Sleepy Hollow? That was the question that bothered critics and fans alike these past nine months. Not since NBC’s Heroes has a show sunk its own ship from season 1 to 2. FOX and TPTB promised to reboot the story and go back to the magic of season 1.

In the wake of the season 3 premiere this has to be said. The bar for Sleep Hollow’s promotion was set very low and they still missed the mark leading up to the premiere on Oct. 1. All the budget on FOX must have gone to the Empire promo but there had to be someone in the PR department who could have thought of utilizing social media to drum up the interest and the show’s scattered fan base (at least earlier than a week before the show starts). It’s ridiculous that Emmy-winner Viola Davis drummed up more buzz for Nicole Beharie in her speech than the PR department has accomplished in three seasons. That is something else.

There were many things that had to be dealt with in the first episode. There was a nine-month time jump, the broken relationship between Ichabod and Abbie, Jenny back on the forefront, the introduction of two new characters, and last but not least: the case of the week.

In the opening we’re directly introduced to the new villain Pandora (Shannyn Sossamon), who captures the Headless Horseman into her box (or in her own words “it’s more of a dowry”) whilst singing a song. By capturing the Headless Horseman, Pandora gave the box “the power of death” and thus she was able to summon the yaoguai. This is a battlefield demon who paralyzes people and feeds on their fear, which ultimately kills them. This was a great move to tie up the storylines of season 2, hand the baton from one villain to another, but leave the door open. Sossamon plays her role well and it’s interesting to note that during one episode she successfully performed more magic than Katrina in two seasons. How’s that for progress?

We find out that Abbie Mills (Nicole Beharie) has moved on with her life and is fully focused on her career. She finished her training with the FBI and is now a working agent under the leadership of her new mentor Mitch Granger (C. Thomas Howell). During their bust of the multi-state drug trafficking ring – with the cheesy name Anaconda- she receives a phone call with news regarding an old friend.

After the loss of his wife Katrina and son Henry in the season finale, Ichabod Crane (Tom Mison) told Abbie that he was going to “clear his head” and then never came back: “I required solitude. Then it became a habit. A deeply regrettable one.” This was a nice touch. He was grieving after all and needed time to find himself again. Ichabod traveled back to Scotland and searched for answers in his family’s tomb. He found a 4,000-year-old tablet marked with Sumerian engravings which translated to “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.” OK.

Ichabod travelled back to the States and his family heirloom ensured that he got locked up and he has been in the custody of Immigrations and Customs Enforcement for five days before he called Abbie. The reason? He was ashamed and the necklace that Abraham gave Katrina (that contains his soul) lost its power, which means that something is wrong with the Headless Horseman, and they need to find out what it means. (Side note: Team Witness was still in sync during their time apart since they opted for the same haircut.)

The scene of the first demon attack is in a national park. Two men end up dead and the authorities suspect an animal attack. Abbie knows the area and states that it doesn’t have the right kind of predators. It was a nice moment to see the dynamic between the two. Ichabod the believer and Abbie the sceptic working together as a team; both brought their knowledge to the table. Or as Ichabod dramatically states, “Evil has returned to Sleepy Hollow.”

The duo heads back to the archives and there’s a lovely reunion with Jenny Mills (Lyndie Greenwood). Unfortunately, Irving won’t be coming back but Jenny explains what happened to him and hints that she helped him disappear. Jenny now works as a paralegal and is slowly finding her way back into society. She helps Ichabod and Abbie find out what the substance is that they found in the national park. She quips, “I spent years recovering obscure artifacts from all over the world – this is what I do.” Amen.

It wouldn’t be Sleepy Hollow without a historical connection and a flashback. They find out that when Benjamin Franklin wrote about the “red devil” at Bunker Hill, it didn’t refer to the redcoats names but to the yaoguai. In the flashback that follows we find out that it was Betsy Ross (Nikki Reed) who delivered the message to Colonel Prescott and thus turned history at Bunker Hill. While Sossamon fares well in her role, Reed doesn’t really make a lasting impression. In part because she didn’t really have much to do in her scenes. Her foreshadowing with the line “one day you’ll meet someone who make you forget all those manners” was a nice touch. It’s certainly funny that all the female characters of Ichabod’s past – historic icons no less- have been sexified and all have romantic ties with Ichabod. Betsy Ross felt modern, thus out of place and was dressed like a lost extra on the set of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Abbie is pulled back into work mode when the FBI receives a tip on their drug bust. She finds out that aggression and gunpowder attracts the yaoguai. Unfortunately, the yaoguai paralyzes her mentor Granger and slashes his throat. Why does she need to lose her mentors this way? Abbie does fire some shots and injures the yaoguai, which is a surprise to Team Witness since the demon is supposed to be invulnerable. The yaoguai has one weakness: it can be wounded when its eyes flash white in order to steal someone’s fear. Whilst Abbie is focused on the drug ring. Ichabod and Jenny hastily conduct a plan to trap the yaoguai. It seems to go well but in the end it’s Abbie who saves the day.

The episode is definitely miles better than most of season 2, yet there are some things that are hit or miss. There was no need for an Asian drug ring just because Team Witness was dealing with a Chinese demon. Hopefully Betsy Ross will be less bland in the upcoming episodes. The dialogue is sometimes very on the nose. Whilst trying to find out what demon there up against, Ichabod finds a book where it states that the demon looks for fear and it’s a servant not a master, to which Jenny states: “ Meaning that someone summoned it here, someone evil.” Jenny had some other questionable lines such as “ Guns, knives, things that go boom. We’re back in the demon-fighting business and I think we’re going to need them.” Alright, didn’t think of that. By the way, we still don’t know how Ichabod was able to travel to Scotland (and back) and how he made his living in the past year. How Sway? At least he’s entertaining the idea of finding a job.

While the episode wasn’t perfect we can only hope that Sleepy Hollow will pull off what it has planned and at least for the time being there’s no need to dust off the #AbbieMillsDeservesBetter hashtag.

Giselle Defares comments on film, fashion (law) and American pop culture. See her blog here.

The Honest Sexcapades in ‘You’re The Worst’

Gretchen leaves Jimmy and states, “Well as my grandma used to say, ‘It’s only a walk of shame if you’re capable of feeling shame.’ See you later, thanks for doing all the sex stuff on me.”

This guest post by Giselle Defares appears as part of our theme week on Sex Positivity.

Sex is one of the strange wonders in our life. Many of us barely flinch when it comes to the sexual intrusiveness in our contemporary media. Oh, how the times have changed. Twenty years ago it would be Roseanne and Dan winking at each other. In recent years the boundaries have slowly been pushed back in our TV-landscape when it comes to the act of swapping bodily fluids– see Californication, True Blood, or The Americans. Sexual freedom is not only shown on cable shows such as HBO or FX, but also on network TV (see Scandal’s “Olitz” scenes on ABC). Everything is shown: same-sex scenes, masturbation, sex scenes from a woman’s perspective, you name it. In our modern society, it can sometimes be hard to navigate the complexity of sex, or get an accurate media portrayal of the gray messiness that sex, love, and relationships entail. Fear not, there’s the dark comedy gem of FX, You’re the Worst, which had its 10-episode debut season in 2014.

The romantic single-cam comedy is created by first-time showrunner Stephen Falk. He started out writing and producing for dark comedies such as Weeds and Orange is the New Black. Falk and his creative team specifically focused on detailed world-building in the show. He chose to divide the post-pilot episodes into three acts , each with their own director. In this way each episode can work individually (within its group) or as one part of the major arc.

It’s a surprising choice for Falk to mold his vision in the form of a modern sitcom – perhaps the redundant comparison comes as a result of the 30-minute format. After all, the format of the American sitcom, well, seems a bit dated, yet somehow it works for the show. The romantic influences in the show vary from the 1950s John Osborne play Look Back in Anger, ultimate rom-com When Harry met Sally, to the sitcom Mad About You. Falk created flawed characters, who in essence are just lovable dickheads. He commented on the beating heart of the show: “No matter how damaged we are, we all are deserving of love.”

You’re the Worst centers around Jimmy Shive- Overly (Chris Geere), a narcissistic, mediocre, English writer living in Los Angeles whose day job consists of insulting anyone he doesn’t think is as smart as him. After going to his ex’s wedding he ends up having a one night stand with the laissez-faire publicist, Gretchen Cutler (Aya Cash). Despite their differences the two decide that they don’t want to stop seeing each other. The supporting cast consists of Gretchen’s best friend Lindsay Jillian (Kether Donohue), whose marriage to nerdy husband Paul is crumbling (Allan McLeod). Jimmy’s roommate Edgar (Desmin Borges), a sweet military veteran who suffers from PTSD and dabbles in selling drugs. Gretchen’s boisterous client, the rapper Sam Dresden (Brandon Mychal Smith) and his faux Tyler The Creator gang that consists of Shitstain (Darrell Britt Gibson) and Honey Nutz (Allen Maldonado).

You’re the Worst’s honest take on modern sexuality starts right in the pilot. During a well-deserved break in their one-night stand, while they munch on pasta, Jimmy quips to Gretchen, “I’m glad that this is a one night thing so we can reveal all this awful shit about ourselves.” They high five and Jimmy drops pasta from his fork on his crotch and Gretchen quickly says, “I’ll get that.” Aha, a woman who’s not afraid to get what she wants. We see various clips in their hilarious graphic sex montage. Gretchen straddles Jimmy whilst she’s chewing gum and she pensively states, “ I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I’m not attracted to you.” Jimmy just looks at her and says “ What has that got to do with anything?!”

Yet, the most graphic and funny (sex) scene in the pilot is when Jimmy performs an oral act and spits on Gretchen’s vagina:

Gretchen: “Did you spit on it?!”

Jimmy: “It’s saliva. It’s going to get there anyway.”

Gretchen shrugs.

Well, there’s certainly a nice amount of sexual activity in the show. Girl goes down on boy, boy goes down on girl, even attempts at threesomes. It’s sad that it seems revolutionary that the characters on the show have a healthy relationship and enjoyment with sex.

Jimmy and Gretchen are commitment-phobes who are running away from responsibility in every aspect of their lives. They have absolutely no qualms with physical intimacy but they run when they develop some level of emotional intimacy. They’re self-absorbed, often engage in destructive and self-destructive activities, and struggle with the concept of adulthood and the inevitable romantic relationships that will follow. Their obnoxious behavior can be awful but Falk ensured that the moments aren’t gratuitous.

Gretchen is portrayed as a capable but laid-back publicist. She’s snarky, loud, magnetic, and complex. She’s also selfish, self-aware, and caring. Gretchen is definitely not the bumbling goody two-shoes that’s normally shown in the romantic genre. She hates that she cares about her intimate circle and tries to hide her feelings but can’t. Her quips are what make her endearing – especially her conversations with Sam and his crew. In episode 3, “Keys Open Doors,” Gretchen leaves Jimmy and states, “Well as my grandma used to say, ‘It’s only a walk of shame if you’re capable of feeling shame.’ See you later, thanks for doing all the sex stuff on me.”

Jimmy could have been one of the more one-dimensional characters. He’s sarcastic and almost shows no signs of humanity. It’s slowly revealed in defining moments that he does have feelings or even a soul. One of the top moments is when Falk toyed with one of the more cliché rom-com tropes. In episode 8, “Finish Your Milk,” Jimmy and Gretchen have a big fight when he finds out that she presents a Wasp version of herself to her parents. He tracks her down at their country club lunch (as you do) and delivers a big speech how they don’t know the real version of their daughter. In a nice twist, it turns out that “whiteknighting” isn’t what Gretchen needs and she breaks up with him for it. Well, that’s definitely a feminist silver lining in a romantic situation.

The quips and honesty surrounding sex is what sets the tone for the show. It’s not only seen in the budding relationship between Gretchen and Jimmy but also in Gretchen’s relationship with her bestie Lindsay. Falk took the stock characters from romantic comedies and flipped them upside down. Lindsay is the self-absorbed and annoying best friend. She easily could have been one-note but the writing and the comedy chops of Kether Donohue really make it work. Lindsay has heart, a lot of personality and a high sex drive. In the pilot, Gretchen is picked up after her romp with Jimmy and she spills the beans to a disapproving Lindsay. Gretchen quips, “You’re being shitty and judgmental to me. How many guys did you blow at our five-year reunion?” Ah, who doesn’t love the frankness between two good friends?

Jimmy and Edgar’s relationship isn’t as tight, but whether he knows it or not, Jimmy really needs Edgar. In the first episodes it seems that Edgar is only there to lent an ear to Jimmy and cook him the most fabulous cuisine. Edgar fulfils the role of the kooky roommate but throughout the season we’re shown an heartwarming arc. He’s realistically messed up, struggles with daily social situations and is Jimmy and Gretchen’s number one fan. During the episodes we’ll see that he (well, actually both Edgar and Lindsay) becomes a fully developed character who stands on his own and doesn’t necessarily exist to serve Jimmy and Gretchen’s arc.

Why is the relationship between Jimmy and Gretchen believable? The emphasis lies on two people being present in their relationship whilst they navigate a society that has become less conversational and more self-indulgent. In their own unique way, both Gretchen and Jimmy listen, and see each other for who they really are – they don’t judge and accept the other one’s choices. This is a refreshing take on romantic relationships on TV.

You’re The Worst is a romantic comedy/mirror on our society about romantic dating. Love is exhilarating, hard, and quite often people struggle between loneliness, vulnerability, and the satisfying experience when you meet another person who just gets you. It’s not the representation for millennial dating – since there are so many different points of view when it comes to love and sex- but it certainly comes close for many of us. Jimmy, Gretchen and their squad are all messed up people. They can be snarky, manipulative and mean. You really shouldn’t, yet you care about them, even root for them and want them to do well.

You’re the Worst is an underrated show about romantic dysfunction. It’s one of the better comedy shows on TV right now; quite frankly, if you’re not watching it you’re doing yourself a disservice.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_sxdO7M69Q”]

Giselle Defares comments on film, fashion (law) and American pop culture. See her blog here.

The Hacker in the Rye (and the Gender Politics in ‘Mr. Robot’)

All the women in the show are fairly fleshed out characters who are allowed to be angry, manipulating, sweet, caring, and experience all the emotions that lie in between. So, basically they’re regular human beings.

This is a guest post by Giselle Defares.

Hollywood remains fascinated by the concept of ones and zeros. The idea that technology will take over our hegemony in the world is anchored in our pop culture. The bastion of the tech world is clouded with toxic masculinity, yet there are still women who’ve managed to crack these walls. This even translated into film, see wide-eyed Sandra Bullock in The Net, hipster Angelina Jolie in Hackers, and of course Noomi Rapace in The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. It’s been reported by the U.S. Department of Commerce that men dominate the hacker subculture, yet 28.5 percent of all computer programmers are women. Mr. Robot has been widely praised for its accurate portrayal of technology and the tech industry, but how do the female characters fair in the show?

Sam Esmail is the brain behind the show. In 2014, Esmail wrote and made his directorial debut with the film Comet, so Mr. Robot will be (for the time being) his pièce de résistance. The show was initially created as a feature film, but Esmail changed his mind and turned the screenplay into a TV pilot. He shopped the play around and ended up with the USA Network. This seems like a surprising choice since the USA Network has a reputation for their – let’s be honest here –mediocre programming. In recent years the network has tried to turn their image around and churned out several gems such as Psych, White Collar (well, at least the first two seasons), and Suits. Still, the obvious choice for the hacker, vigilante saga would be HBO, FX, OR FXX. However, USA Network gave Esmail total control of all aspects of the show. The show is produced by Universal Cable Productions and Anonymous Content. Esmail hired Niels Arden Oplev, who was behind the Swedish version of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, to direct the pilot. The pilot won the Audience Award after the screening at SXSW, and was named an official selection of the 2015 Tribeca Film Festival. Mr. Robot was renewed by the network, for a second season of at least 10 episodes, before the official series premier. Esmail has mapped out five seasons of the show.

The fascination with hacker groups is nothing new. In our information society, it seems even more prominent seeing how digitally networked our society is, how much we rely on social media and automatic systems, which highlights the vulnerability of our privacy. Inspiration behind the show can easily be traced back to old hacker groups such as Cult of the Dead Cow and Cyberpunk (which inspired Wikileaks founder Julian Assange), and more recently hacker groups such as Anonymous or the Lulzsec group who placed attacks on high profile sites such as Sony Pictures Entertainment and the CIA. Let’s not forgot about the Guardians of Peace, who were behind the Sony leak and (for a short amount of time) shook up Hollywood. For some, the recent wave of hacker groups have launched a new form of organized crime.

Hacker groups are often marginalized in the media and portrayed as the equivalent of terrorist groups. It seems that most hacker groups toy with the political and economic complexity of their ideology. What also comes into play is their struggle between power and anger. The groups are angry at the status quo and want to see change – especially with the large conglomerates who are deemed abusive. Yet, they enjoy the power that their actions bring. They often perform morally questionable actions – which are sometimes necessary – in order to bring about justice.

The instant success of Mr. Robot comes as no surprise. The show is confident in which direction its headed and how the story will evolve. Mr. Robot is a breath of fresh air in our current TV-landscape since it doesn’t hide behind fictional names, brands or political situations and completely embraces its dogmatic world. The show even takes jabs against our consumer society and the goal of “living a normal life.” The season finale was postponed for a week since the episode contained a scene where a character sustained a fatal gunshot wound during a TV interview, which had an uncanny resemblance to the way that WDBJ journalists were killed on live TV in Roanoke, Virginia. In the season finale there was also a quick reference to the recent Ashley Madison hack.

The premise of Mr. Robot is fairly simple. The show centers around Elliot Alderson (Rami Malek), a 28-year-old programmer who during the day works as a cyber security engineer at Allsafe and in his free time is a vigilante hacker. Elliot ends up in a tough situation when the leader of the underground hacker group FSociety, Mr. Robot (Christian Slater), eggs him on to destroy Evil Corp, the firm he’s paid to protect. Spurred by his personal beliefs, Elliot struggles to resist the opportunity to take down the multinational CEOs he believes are running/ruining the world. Elliot functions as the eyes and ears of the audience – and provides the voice-over narration. Quite frankly he’s one of the most unreliable narrators seen on TV in recent years. He’s struggling with clinical depression and has social anxiety disorder. Elliot deals with his own paranoia and hallucinations and is most of the time high or going through withdrawal.

Most TV critics rave about Esmail’s attention to detail. Well, it has to be said, Esmail works with surgical precision. When you see code on a computer screen, you better believe that it’s real. Esmail hired a cyber-security engineer to provide the data that appears on computer screens during various hacking scenes. He also put attention to the social engineering aspect of hacking since hackers have to figure out human behavior patterns in order to find the weak spot in the system. Well, that certainly brings the drama to the show.

The cinematography of the show is stunning. This is the work of veteran DOP Todd Campbell (Friday Night Lights, Boyhood). Esmail and Campbell picked out various framing and height techniques. From the use of shortsighting (especially during Elliot’s internal dialogues) and the “leading room” technique, these are the elements that give the show such an unique look. “Leading room” means that there’s a lot of room between the characters faces and the physical space that they occupy. Characters are often seen on the sides of a larger frame. This makes you feel that you’re in the shot with the characters. Esmail chose to incorporate several 70s and 90s influences in the show. This can be seen from the beautiful title screens, to the references to Christian Slater’s earlier work and films such as American Psycho and Taxi Driver, to the perfect soundtrack. One of the more remarkable moments in the show surrounds Tyrell Wellick during a particular angsty rooftop scene, which was highlighted by the use of the FKA twigs song “Two Weeks.”

The show’s clear trajectory has led to frequent comparisons with Fight Club, Dexter, and Breaking Bad. Similar to Walter White, we follow Elliot on his descent into amorality. The show highlights the idea of power and raises the question if Elliot undertakes action for the right reasons. While Elliot has good intentions, he certainly enjoys hacking everyone left, right, and center, which momentarily makes him feel powerful. Elliot can be seen as one of the more “morally grey” antiheroes on TV (though some would argue that Elliot’s journey is a typical hero vigilante origin story). The interesting part is that the viewer can see that Elliot is a mess from the start. His struggles with depression and anxiety aren’t glossed over, he’s very unstable, and he doesn’t play the role of the charming yet genius misfit.

The female characters in Mr. Robot consist of Elliot’s co-worker and childhood friend Angela (Portia Doubleday) – who could be Amanda Seyfried’s twin. Elliot regularly visits his psychiatrist Krista Gorden (Gloria Reuben). In order to suppress his emotions, he uses morphine which he gets from his neighbor and occasional fuckbuddy (later girlfriend) Shayla (Frankie Shaw). He works at FSociety with the stubborn Darlene (Carly Chaikin) – who’s unrecognizable from her role as Dalia in Suburgatory. Also at FSociety works the subdued Iranian hacker Trenton (Sunita Mani), who doesn’t want to follow in her parents’ footsteps while chasing the unattainable American Dream. There’s also Joanna Wellick (Stephanie Corneliussen), the Lady Macbeth wife of the antagonist of the show, the Swedish Patrick Bateman Tyrell Wellick (Martin Wallström) who’s the Senior Vice President of Technology at Evil Corp and has an insatiable hunger for power.

Lenika Cruz of The Atlantic states that the show’s “treatment of its female characters feels like an extension of its broader portrayal of those typically marginalized on TV.” That’s a valid point. All the women in the show are fairly fleshed out characters who are allowed to be angry, manipulating, sweet, caring, and experience all the emotions that lie in between. So, basically they’re regular human beings.

At first sight, it seems that Elliot’s relationship with Angela has a White Knight undertone. In the first episodes Elliot reacts, overprotecting and constantly tries to stand up for Angela (see the meeting with Evil Corp sexist CTO, to which Angela states: “Even if I’m losing, let me lose, OK?”). Angela comes across as a cookie cutter character but she has an interesting arc. She’s the epitome of our current generation of young professionals who are forced, as a result of the current state of the job market, to be sucked in by the empty promises of corporations because of debts and lack of job mobility. Plus she can’t lean on her dad who is financially struggling. Her strength can be seen in several moments throughout the show: when she finally stands up for herself against her insufferable, cheating boyfriend, and in the season finale when she powers through after horrible events at her job – let’s hope that her new Prada shoes remain squeaky clean.

Darlene is introduced as the girl who’s one of the guys. She’s loudmouthed, smart, but we find out that she has a softer side. Presumably she became this tough because she’s always been the only one – or one of a few women – within the male hacker society. Season one was mostly Elliot’s story and slowly the plot unraveled and we got glimpses of the other characters. It took several episodes before her character was fleshed out. Darlene really came into her own in the last three episodes. The show had an interesting twist at the end, where it flipped the relationship between Elliot and Darlene upside down, and their interactions got a whole other meaning.

One of the smaller plotlines contained Elliot’s girlfriend Shayla. Shayla was under a lot of pressure by her violent drug supplier. The relationship between the two seemed pure because Shayla was aware of Elliot’s drug habits and his neurotic behavior, while he hid most of it from his childhood friend Angela. One of the more hilarious scenes is in episode 3, “d3bug.mkv,” when Elliot asks Shayla to be his girlfriend and she joins him for a dinner at his boss Gideon’s house and lots of awkward small talk ensues. It all goes down after that for Shayla and it can be said that she was thrown under the bus for Elliot’s man pain.

Gloria Reuben is excellent in her role as Elliot’s psychiatrist – Malek and Reuben have electric chemistry in their scenes. She tries her hardest to get him to open up. Elliot in his turn only sees a connection with her since they’re both lonely and he confesses his hacking tendencies at the end of their therapy stint. In episode 7, “v1ew-s0urce,” he totally comes clean and says, “ I don’t just hack you. I hack everyone. But I’ve helped a lot of people. I want a way out of loneliness, just like you.” Her expression during his confession is marvelous. In the season finale we find out that she hasn’t given up on Elliot yet.

While FSociety plays an important role in Elliot’s life, most of the characters remain in the background. It’s still a diverse group especially with the Muslim hacker Trenton and the African American Romero. We see Trenton performing her prayers at one point. One of the only other tidbits we get to see of her is in episode 7 “v1ew-s0urce,” when she has a conversation with Darlene why she joined FSociety. Trenton then says, “My parents were born in Iran. And came here like everybody else. For the freedom. But my dad works 60-hour weeks to determine tax loopholes for a millionaire art dealer. My mom, she ran up loans in the five digits to get an online degree. They won’t shut up about how great America is. But they are going to die in debt. Doing things they didn’t want to do.”

Esmail made an interesting choice when he picked B.D. Wong for the role of Whiterose who is a transgender woman; arguably he could have chosen a transgender actor but all along he had B.D. Wong in mind. Whiterose is the head of the dangerous Chinese hackers group The Dark Army. Wong plays a small part in the show but has a short, tense scene with Elliot. Whiterose is the complete opposite of the unstable Elliot: she is competent, intimidating, and focused.

Joanna remains the most mysterious character. She fully supports her husband Tyrell in all his endeavors. She even knows that he will use sexual favors – with men and women – to get where he thinks he needs to be. She plays Tyrell like a fiddle. One of their most amazing scenes is in episode 6, “br4ve-trave1er,” when Tyrell is upset and destroys their kitchen and she calmly keeps munching on her food.

Mr. Robot is one of the best new shows that has come out in recent years. The immaculate attention to details, cinematography, pop culture references, and critique on our digital society are delicious. The show is not without its faults since there are some questionable lines of dialogue, (i.e. Elliot says of Trenton: “She may look innocent, but I’d be careful, she has some Allah Akbar in her”). Furthermore, it’s quite unbelievable that Angela and her boyfriend (who also works at Allsafe) play unknown media on their computer without checking it out first. The episodes can drag at certain points with all the critique on the large evil corporations, manipulation of the public and greed of the top dogs.

We get it.

What’s up for season 2? There are so many unanswered questions. Who was knocking on Elliot’s door? Where’s Tyrell? Will Joanna and Darlene have a bigger roles in the second season?. We’ll have to wait and see. Everything constantly changes in the world of Mr. Robot. Nothing is set in ones and zeros.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ug4fRXGyIak “]

Giselle Defares comments on film, fashion (law) and American pop culture. See her blog here.

The Unsung Female Warriors in ‘Vikings’

This is a guest post by Giselle Defares.

Heroic ethos has infused entertainment through the ages. From the Mesopotamian Epic of Gilgamesh, to the half-gods of Greek mythology, to Robin Hood in English folklore, to the pulp stories of the nineteenth century, we are enthralled by heroes who are equipped with power to accomplish impossible tasks. In our age, it makes for slightly pulpy yet super addictive entertainment TV–see Rome, Spartacus: Blood and Sand, and Game of Thrones. There’s a tendency in fantasy or historical dramas to sideline or fit the female characters into a “traditional” mold. The underrated Vikings offers nuanced female characters to cleanse your palate.

The Canadian-Irish TV series had its debut on the History Channel in 2013. Vikings is the brainchild of Michael Hirst, who has a repertoire of remolding history in digestible, viewable snacks. He worked as a screenwriter for Elizabeth, Elizabeth: The Golden Age, and was the executive producer for the Showtime dramas The Tudors and The Borgias. While the History Channel has a track record of traditional programming focused on the link between ancient buildings and aliens (see Ancient Aliens or UFO Files). Vikings is their first foray into scripted TV drama and definitely their showpiece.

Ragnar Lothbrok is a semi-legendary character in Scandinavian history –a rather Arthurian spirit. He was either a Danish or Swedish king, and he raided widely in Britain and France. Ragnar had three wives–Lagertha, Thora and Aslaug, a Swedish princess whom he rescued from two giants serpents. He fathered a number of sons, all whom appear to be “genuine” historical figures, and came to his untimely end when he was killed by King Aelle of Northumbria by being thrown into a pit full of snakes, right. In pop culture, his last depiction was in the movie The Vikings (1958) with Kirk Douglas, Tony Curtis, and narrated by Orson Welles.

Vikings centers around Ragnar Lothbrok (Travis Fimmel), a Viking farmer living in the fictional rural Kattegat, Scandinavia in the 790s CE. Ragnar is married to the “famous shieldmaiden” Lagertha (Katheryn Winnick). Together they run a small farm and live happily with their two children Gyda and Bjorn (who later becomes Bjorn Ironside). The village is ruled by the stock-villainous character Earl Haraldson (Gabriel Byrne), a totalitarian ruler, and his Lady Macbeth wife Siggy (Jessalyn Gilsig). Haraldson owns the ships that goes into the Eastern Baltic every year to raid Russia. Ragnar suggests that there’s nothing to gain from their trips to the east and that they should go west. The Earl is skeptical to Ragnar’s claims. His friend Floki (Gustaf Skarsgård), a crafty boatmaker, has secretly built a longship for Ragnar, so he can assemble a crew and go wherever he wants. The Earl is against their mission so Ragnar has to act out in secret. Ragnar gets support from his ambitious brother Rollo (Clive Standen). There’s underlying tension between the brothers because Rollo has desire for Lagertha and is hungry for power. On one of their first Viking raids on the British Isles, Ragnar kidnaps the Christian monk Athelstan (George Blagden), who later serves as the audience’s eyes and ears within the Viking culture.

The first season is focused on the rise of Ragnar as Earl of Kattegat and his adventures on the British Isles. We see his growing relationship with Athelstan and his curiosity for Christianity. His relationship with Lagertha crumbles when she doesn’t produce a new heir. During their annual trip to the Temple in Uppsala, where clans gather to worship the Gods, Ragnar meets Princess Aslaug, who holds his interest and can provide him with sons. In the second season, we fast forward four years and find out that Lagertha has remarried to a powerful yet abusive Earl and there’s friction between her new husband and Bjorn. Aslaug reigns with Ragnar and raises his sons. Siggy struggles with her new position in the clan and is in a (political) relationship with Rollo. The third season shows that Athelstan is integrated in the Viking clan but can’t fully submerse himself into the culture. During one of the raids he’s captured and ends up living with King Ecbert, ruler of Wessex. The Viking clan explores the new world and the show is focused on the power struggles between Ragnar, Lagertha, and King Ecbert.

Vikings is a confident show. It’s certainly not without its flaws. Especially the first half of season 1 was very cheesy, predictable, and slow. Even in the later episodes there are still several moments where the dialogue feels stilted. The show is filmed in Ireland and while the production value is not on the same level of shows such as Game of Thrones (Vikings has often been named in the press as “Game of Thrones lite”), it’s a great first-time effort by a basic cable network. There’s a lot of time invested in authentic detail. Whilst a good portion of the show is fictional, many storylines and subsequently the characters are based on recorded events and Norse legends. The show doesn’t hide from religion and portrays hallucinatory interactions between God and men, uninhibited sexuality, and of course the clash between innovation and conservatism.

The show initially flew under the radar – though it got higher ratings with each season. The first impression for many is that the show is male-dominated. That may be, but the women are well-written and not put on an unattainable pedestal. It’s refreshing to see female characters who are allowed to be as nuanced and complex as their male counterparts. Quite often – in this particular genre – they’re either the quiet submissive girlfriend or “Xena: Warrior Princess” types. In Vikings, the women can do anything, be who they want to be, and each one of them has their own particular motivation for their actions.

It can be argued that because of the unique social structure and the pagan religion within the Scandinavian society the women are portrayed differently. There’s no Christian morality and obvious “sense of gender.” Yet, that argument doesn’t hold when you look at other shows such as Game of Thrones. There are no obvious elements of Christianity in Game of Thrones, but the misogyny runs high in the various storylines. Game of Thrones is/was an enjoyable layered show but its sprinkled with “random female nudity.” Vikings has the occasional sex scene but the nudity isn’t arbitrary and supports the storyline.

Ragnar’s (ex) wife Lagertha is a fan favorite and of the more interesting developed characters throughout the three seasons. She’s introduced as a shield maiden, which means that she’s a trained female warrior. Under the purists, there has been some dispute whether there’s clear historical evidence that there were women warriors in Norse society. There’s often an element of male fantasy interjected in shows where the women can be portrayed as tough female characters who ultimately (sexually) succumb to the male hero. That’s not the case in Vikings. Lagertha rejects the proper, subordinate Christian role that’s expected of women. Instead she does it all: mother, farmer, and warrior. It’s a modern (and smart) decision to portray her as a “real” woman and a warrior in her own right.

Lagertha and Ragnar had a healthy relationship in the first season. They were equals in every sense of the word. In the second season, the audience saw Lagertha stab her husband Sigvard in the eye after his failed attempt to sexually harass her in front of the guests. So within three seasons, Lagertha divorced Ragnar, killed her second husband, and flirted with King Ecbert. How’s that for self-confidence and self-worth? There’s an hilarious moment in the second season, that illustrates the changed dynamic between Ragnar and Lagertha. Lagertha became the Earl of Hedeby and hopes to be an alley to Kattegat. Lagertha quips, “Yes, we are equal. I’m sure this is difficult for you.”

It must be said that there’s an excellent progression of all the female characters on the show. One of the primary antagonists (at least in the first season) is the noblewoman Siggy. It’s a nice juxtaposition with Lagertha. Most of the time Siggy was seen sulking around in beautiful outfits. Yet, she’s never portrayed as less compared to the tougher Lagertha. Siggy does what needs to be done in order to survive and she has an insatiable hunger to gain back some of her power.

In season 2 and 3, Siggy develops a bond with Aslaug. Aslaug is in the beginning portrayed as a stiff princess, her relationship with Ragnar differs from the one he had with Lagertha. Ragnar does love Aslaug but merely for her mystic powers and the fact that she provided him with sons. Initially there’s some tension when Lagertha and Aslaug first meet but that is fast and smoothly resolved. Both women recognize each other’s strength and show respect. How the women may differ or disagree, in the end they all support each other. That’s certainly refreshing in the realm of historical dramas.

Vikings is an historical drama with multifaceted characters across the board. It’s an entertaining, compelling show. The only reason your heartbeat will go faster is not because of misogyny or glaring stereotypes, but because of the female warriors who’re the heart of the show.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IARD01_FEq0″]

Giselle Defares comments on film, fashion (law) and American pop culture. See her blog here.

The Veil of Diversity in ‘Sleepy Hollow’

The realm of sci-fi and fantasy offers many possibilities to challenge the status quo. It’s the ultimate platform to show diversity and portray a more nuanced characterization of people. Let’s hope that ‘Sleepy Hollow’ can pull of what it has planned and there will be no need to dust off the #AbbieMillsDeservesBetter hashtag.

This is a guest post by Giselle Defares.

Television as an mirror that reflects the cultural dynamic that’s present in our society. Ha. There are a few shows that get it right–see the socio-economic depiction in The Wire or the gender politics in Mr. Robot–but more often than not, television formats succumb to trite stereotypes and travel the well-trodden path of TV tropes. The recent change in the TV landscape, “The Golden Age of diversity and representation,” made it seem that there were more roles for actors of color. Yet, the numbers from the 2015 diversity report on Hollywood, Flipping the Script – from UCLA’s Ralph Bunche Center for African American Studies – are only marginally better than previous years.

Veteran showrunners Alex Kurtzman and Roberto Orci are known for their teamwork in sci-fi – see Fringe, Cowboys & Aliens, Star Trek: Into Darkness. They took a chance on a script by Phillip Iscove, who was toiling away as an assistant at UTA, and Iscove sold his pitch based on the “man out of time” element. They teamed up with director/executive producer Len Wisemen, mostly known from his work on the Underworld franchise, to create one of the more kooky TV formats: Sleepy Hollow (2013).

The conversation has shifted in recent years when it comes to the portrayal of Black women who have graced our screens. From the groundbreaking start with the working single mother Julia Baker on Julia, to the mid-1970s with the working-class housekeeper Florida Evans in Good Times, followed by educated womanhood in the form of Clair Huxtable in the 1980s with The Cosby Show, to the Black professionals such as Maxine Shaw in Living Single, independent women Pam and Gina in Martin, to Whitley in A Different World. Funnily enough, in the 1990s most channels featured shows with a diverse cast. However, once the ratings were high enough they would replace them with mostly white-orientated shows after the network got traction – see UPN, CW, WB, FOX.

Most would say that the reign of Shonda Rimes and her Shondaland production company paved the way for Black characters such as Miranda Bailey in Grey’s Anatomy, Olivia Pope in Scandal, Annalise Keating in How to Get Away with Murder. Other networks followed suit and there’s Mary Jane Paul on Being Mary Jane, Rainbow Johnson on Black-ish, and we can’t forget about Ms. Cookie Lyon on Empire. It’s refreshing to see a variety of Black women represented on the screen. Characters who’re not molded in the archetypes that are damaging society’s perception of Black women – think Strong Black Woman, Mammy, Jezebel, Video Vixen, and so on.

Not every (main) Black character gets the treatment they deserve and debunk archetypes. Characters such as Tara Thornton in True Blood, Bonnie Bennett in The Vampire Diaries, Lacey Porter in Twisted, Iris West in The Flash, and Abbie Mills in Sleepy Hollow, are coming together as captivating women who are used to promote diversity in the show and are slowly pushed aside when the fan base is secured and TPTB still think they have to cater to a certain demographic. Well, it seems that the bait and switch tactic never went out of style.

Abbie, Ichabod and Frank — Abbie, Ichabod, and Frank

The premise of Sleepy Hollow sounds farfetched, but somehow it work(s)(ed). The show is loosely based on The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving. Ichabod Crane (Tom Mison) wakes up in our century and has to stop the Headless Horseman from starting the Apocalypse. He meets Lieutenant Abbie Mills (Nicole Beharie) and together they are the “Witnesses” who will stop the Apocalypse as is written in the Book of Revelation. The duo gets help from Abbie’s sister, Jenny Mills (Lyndie Greenwood), who has in-depth knowledge on the evil forces and artifacts. The stern Captain Frank Irving (Orlando Jones), Abbie’s boss, who reluctantly starts to believe in their cause; and finally the whispery Katrina Crane (Katia Winter), Ichabod’s wife, who “tries” to help the team whilst being stuck in ‘a world between life and death’ a.k.a purgatory, which is ruled by the main antagonist Moloch.

In essence, it’s a tried formula. There’s the overarching mythos of Sleepy Hollow, sprinkled with an ‘army of evil, Lt. Abbie Mills as the reluctant character who works hard and suppresses her own demons and deals with family concerns. Of course her partner is a snarky, knowledgeable yet flawed British hero who fully believes in the mythology. Nevertheless, the chemistry between Mison and Beharie is electric and lured fans in to join the duo on their (un)believable journey. Credit also goes to the multi-racial supporting cast with John Cho as police officer John Brooks, Nicholas Gonzalez as Detective Luke Morales who’s also Abbie’s ex-boyfriend, Jill Marie Jones and Amandla Stenberg as respectively Frank Irving’s ex-wife Cynthia and daughter Macey.

Season 1 was fun, period. It was accepting of all the cheesiness and ran with it in order to create solid (cult) television. Sure, the dialogue was clunky, there were small loose ends, the pacing was off, but it didn’t matter. The diverse cast really made it work. In October 2013, executive producer Heather Kadin even joked: “[..]because we have so much diversity in our cast and we’ve had the freedom to cast our villains and victims however we want, so we can kill as many white people as we want.” It now turned out that it was too good to be true.

Sleepy Hollow became the surprise freshman hit of the season. Fox quickly renewed the show after only two episodes aired and didn’t order the back nine episodes – usual concept for network shows – and kept the show at 13 episodes. Fox later upgraded the show to a total of 18 episodes for season 2. So, the showrunners had the time – there are 10 months between the first and second season – to focus on season 2 in order to make it bigger and better. Right. From the mediocre promotion for the second season, to the casting announcement of Matt Barr as Indiana Jones’ reject Nick Hawley who essentially plays the same role as Jenny Mills, to Alessandra Stanley’s inaccurate NYT article that unjustly called Beharie a sidekick. It was merely the alarm that showed us how season 2 would play out. The bait and switch was almost a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Solving crime with the Mills’ Sisters — Solving crime with the Mills Sisters

Season 2 has aptly been named by some as “the screenwriters guide of how not to write a show.” One of the catalysts of the demise of season 2 is the fact that Kurtzman and Orci left to do other projects and instilled their faith on showrunner Mark Goffman. Sure, Goffman earned his stripes with series such as White Collar, but he couldn’t handle Sleepy Hollow.

It’s mindboggling that the Juilliard-trained Beharie, who proudly advocated for her character in an interview with Essence – and didn’t expect to portray a tough, cop character with her 5′ 1″ stature and African American background – was pushed aside in favor of “The Crane family drama.” Katrina Crane’s story arc was deplorable. She was touted as a powerful witch from the start. Instead she was only used as a plot device in the first season. They tried to flesh her character out in season 2 and failed. Ichabod Crane became a moping know-it-all (more than usual) who ignored Abbie’s advice to keep focused on their common goal. Fringe’s John Noble was wasted as Ichabod and Katrina’s son who turned out to be The Horseman of War and got his mother pregnant with an evil, demon baby – don’t ask. Not to mention that the Headless Horseman became a woobified character, “grew” a head, and turned out to be Katrina’s ex instead of a menacing villain. The Powers That Be (TPTB) molded Katrina into a damsel in distress that ate up the screen time that should have further explored the relationship between Abbie and Jenny, Abbie and Ichabod, basically everything surrounding Abbie Mills.

The other members of “Team Witness” didn’t fare better. Lyndie Greenwood was promoted to series regular, but was most of the time nowhere to be found in favor of Nick Hawley. Captain Frank Irving and his family’s storyline was cast aside, only to be shortly revived in the most ridiculous way. The show was at its best when Team Witness came together to fight evil and showed the underlying dynamic between the different characters. Add that with the casting of House of Cards actress Sakina Jaffrey as Sheriff Leena Reyes, who has an connection with Abbie’s past, but was severely underused throughout the show.

The diversity of the cast gave the wobbly storyline that extra spunk. Characters of color who seamlessly worked together and aren’t focused on anyone’s race and color – though the show doesn’t hide from commenting on race. Abbie and Jenny are normal, intelligent, layered characters with flaws who’ve showed their vulnerable side, thus debunking the archetype of “The Strong Black woman.” Most fans – and critics- were frustrated after eight episodes had aired of the second season. The diversity and representation went right out of the window with the start of season 2.

Social media further added fuel to the fire within the fandom. At the start of the first season, Orlando Jones quickly broke the fourth wall. He created his own Tumblr page and participated in fandom discussions. Jones actively created more promotion for the show than whatever the Sleepy Hollow PR department was/is trying to do.

The unrest in the fandom sparked the #AbbieMillsDeservesBetter hashtag, where fans could vent their frustrations and asks the writers and staff of Sleepy Hollow why Beharie has been pushed to the background in a show in which she’s a lead character. Sleepy Hollow writer Raven Metzner came under fire on social media when he lashed out to the “haters” of the show. The show slightly redeemed itself with the last four episodes – even with the plot where Abbie was transported back to Ichabod’s time and was seen as a slave, they tiptoed the line with the racial insensitivity, but handled it well. Now, not only was Abbie shelved in the show, apparently Beharie was initially left out on the DVD commentary for season 2.

Sci-fi and fantasy writer Genevieve Valentine at io9 made some valid points when it comes to the trajectory of the show. In a series of Tweets she explains, “The unexpected success of season 1 relied heavily on tweaking tropes – not least of which was the trope of the white mythical heroes. [..] This show cannot be trusted with its own story, and that’s a sad place of no-faith to be coming from with the cast and potential it has.” So, the bait and switch from season 2 didn’t work out as planned. Fans and critics alike have voiced their opinions, but will the necessary changes be made?

The criticism didn’t go unnoticed. During the TCA press tour in January, Fox TV chairman and CEO Dana Walden mentioned that the show will be less serialized and have a slightly lighter tone in the future. Well, one of the first changes is a cross-over with the crime procedural show Bones (!). Soon after came the news that Orlando Jones involuntarily left the show. This is a blow for the promotion of Sleepy Hollow. Neither Mison nor Beharie are very active on social media whether it’s promoting the show or engaging with fans; however, Greenwood picked up the baton from Jones.

Furthermore, on August 2, the new showrunner Clifton Campbell (The Glades), told TV Guide that the Headless Horsemen won’t return this season. He said, “But we have a new framework and a new set of rules for the mythology.” Yeah, look how that previously turned out.

The storyline will jump one year ahead. This will give Ichabod the time to grieve over his wife and son, and maybe get a job to start paying the bills. Abbie will be more focused on her job now as an FBI agent. Still, the casting for season 3 went off with a rough start with the announcement of Nikki Reed (Twilight) as series regular Betsy Ross (the legendary seamstress apparently had a thing with Ichabod back in the day), and she will bring a “smart and sexy edge” to the show. Wayward Pines’ Shannyn Sossamon will play the mysterious woman Pandora who asks Ichabod and Abbie for help. It almost seems that TPTB didn’t get the memo. Fans and critics alike asked for more focus on Ichabod and Abbie and Team Witness. Luckily some recent additions seem promising. Lance Gross (Crisis) makes his debut as Abbie’s boss and we’ll see the return of fan-favorite Zach Appelman as Joe Corbin.

So, why stick with Sleepy Hollow? First off, Nicole Beharie is captivating as Lt. Abbie Mills and we need to see more diverse Black leading women on tv. After all, that’s true representation. Secondly, the nuanced relationship and charm between Tom Mison and Nicole Beharie. It’s a natural chemistry that seems so effortless. It would be a waste not to enjoy it while you can. Thirdly, the bait and switch tactic was disastrous for the show; TPTB are still trying to recover from that, it’s only onwards and upwards from here.

The realm of sci-fi and fantasy offers many possibilities to challenge the status quo. It’s the ultimate platform to show diversity and portray a more nuanced characterization of people. Let’s hope that Sleepy Hollow can pull of what it has planned and there will be no need to dust off the #AbbieMillsDeservesBetter hashtag.

Giselle Defares comments on film, fashion (law) and American pop culture. See her blog here.

The American Lens on Global Unity in ‘Sense8’

‘Sense8’ is a clusterfuck of clichés, mediocre storylines and inept world building. Still, binge watch the series to enjoy the human journey of the eight sensates and maybe the Wachowskis and Netflix will take note and improve season 2 – they’ve mapped out five seasons. ‘Sense8’ will prosper on Netflix.

The Sensates "Mom" Angelica — The Sensates “Mom” Angelica

This is a guest post by Giselle Defares.

The paradoxical desire for global inclusivity that is created or controlled from an American perspective is characteristic for our modern pop culture. Harsh, maybe. We are in the 21st century after all, so it seems more than natural – albeit refreshing in our current cinematic climate of reboots – to explore an array of themes such as religion, gender identity and politics (LGBT) all served with a thin layer of sci-fi. The Wachowskis put their own spin on the mosaic narrative with Sense8. Robert Altman’s Short Cuts, Paul Thomas Anderson’s Magnolia and Alejandro Gonzaléz Iñárritu’s Babel paved the way. Sense8 aims to portray the brittleness of cultural barriers and the importance of global unity. Do the Wachowskis succeed?

Directors Lana and Andy Wachowski ventured from the start of their career into the field of “mindfuck” cinema. Their previous work on the Matrix trilogy, V for Vendetta, Speed Racer, and Ninja Assassin prepared them for their Magnum opus: the film version of the incomparable deemed novel of David Mitchell: Cloud Atlas – or was it the critically panned Jupiter Ascending?

The announcement of the series created a lot of buzz online but criticism rose against Lana Wachowski as a result of her previous comments when it came to the racial insensitivities in Cloud Atlas; and the fact that Wachowski was a keynote speaker at the Chicago Trans 100 – this annual event honors influential voices that are leading the transgender movement. In her speech she tried to focus on the “eradication of otherness,” but made several anti-Black comments, compared the current trans movement and its hardships to the American Civil Rights Movement, and appropriated Indigenous language. This is the same woman who brought us the premise of diversity with Sense8. Dilemma.

Sense8 has a challenging narrative structure. Eight different places, eight protagonists and eight stories that seemingly fit together as matryoshkas. The eight characters all influence each other in subtle ways and thereby change the course of events. In an interview with Buzzfeed director Joe Straczynski states,“ It’s a global story told on a planetary scale about human transcendence and what it ultimately means to be human in a contemporary society.” Right.

The plot centers around the idealistic Chicago cop Will (Brian J. Smith) who has father issues; Icelandic DJ Riley (Tuppence Middleton) who runs from her traumatic past; happy-go-lucky Kenyan bus driver Capheus who is obsessed with Jean Claude Van Damme (Aml Ameen); Korean business woman Sun (Bae Doona) who is a kick ass martial artist at night and deals with her inept brother and father; Mexican telenovela actor Lito (Miguel Angel Silvestre) who is closeted and afraid to come out, Indian scientist Kala (Tina Desai) who is stuck in a “love match” with a man she doesn’t love; German criminal Wolfgang (Max Riemelt) who struggles with his Slavic family; and San Franciscan blogger and ex-hacktivist Nomi (Jamie Clayton) who is a transwoman and is haunted by her family’s disproval. The series was shot in San Francisco, Chicago, Mexico City, London, Berlin, Iceland, Mumbai, Nairobi, and Seoul.

The eight strangers have one thing in common and that is that they’ve evolved into “sensates” and thus can share the thoughts, feelings, memories, skills, and experiences of other sensates. At the start of the series, the sensate Angelica (Daryl Hannah) and Jonas (Naveen Andrews) give “birth” to the group of adult sensates which ties them together into a “cluster”, which means that they can reach out to each other without being in physical contact first. The cluster is composed of eight sensates who are all born at the exact same time but are scattered all over the world. Conveniently enough they can use each other’s language, knowledge and skills. Well, no story is complete without the big bad wolf. The cluster is haunted by the Biologic Preservation Organization (BPO) under the leadership of Whispers (Terrence Mann).

The series has a very slow start. The Wachowskis take their sweet time to introduce all the characters. Will is the one who sets the story in motion when he finds out he can connect with other people – and has had a similar experience in his childhood. Jonas contacts Will and reassures him, “You’re not losing your mind, it’s just expanding.” Nomi often questions the ability of the sensates and her girlfriend’s mother quips, “ To be something more than what evolution would define as ‘yourself,’ you’d need something different from yourself.” Lovely pseudo-profound statement.

The Wachowskis made the creative choice to focus more on the day to day lives of the sensates and their relationships with their loved ones instead of fully embracing the sci-fi element. There should be a better balance between the sci-fi elements and the different relationships of the sensates. It truly distorts the flow of the series. The Wachowskis try to embrace the equality of different world culture and underline the universality of the human experience. It seems that they aimed for a similar vibe as seen in documentary films such as Baraka or Koyaanisqatsi.

However, they opt to include every cliché in the book when it comes to the non-western countries and the characters. Mexico City looks like it was copied out of a popular telenovela; Mumbai is multicolored, lots of jewelry, flowers, Hindu iconography and Kala busted out the classic Bollywood dance with her fiancé; Seoul is almost sterile with a grey-futuristic aesthetic and lots of mirrors and windows; Nairobi looks sweaty and lots of earth tones were used; and Reykjavik and London look like glossy tourist commercials and so on and so forth…

Naturally, Kala is a smart scientist who is stuck in a “love match” but knows that the arranged marriage will make her family very happy. Capheus is a poor yet happy bus driver who cares for his sick mother. Her illness? AIDS. He also has several battles with the local gangs. At first glance, Sun’s story seemed the most fleshed out. Only her arc reaffirms several stereotypes on East Asian culture, see the manifestation of sexism (“Oh, I wish my daughter was a son”) and she’s the ultimate fighter. Despite filming in Korea, the city is only used as a backdrop in the ultra-masculine business where Sun works or a seedy night club scene; Lito is the colorful, sensitive yet conservative homosexual telenovela actor who doesn’t want to bring his career in jeopardy by coming out. Honorable mention goes to Will as the idealistic white cop who tries to safe a black child’s life after he’s been shot and the Black nurse at the ER refuses to help at first and asks him if it will be worth it. Luckily this element of his arc was quickly dropped.

When it comes to (pop) cultural influences, they’re all American. Capheus is obsessed with Jean-Claude Van Damme. Wolfgang and his friend live by the philosophy of Conan the Barbarian and Riley inspires the cluster to a sing along with the 4 Non Blondes song “What’s Going On?” We are not introduced to the local (pop) culture of Mumbai, Mexico City, Seoul or Nairobi – besides the tired cliché of Kala’s Bollywood dance.

The creative decision to let all the characters speak English albeit with a hint of an accent here or there seemed unnecessary. In the other Netflix show, Daredevil, several characters spoke their native language and subtitles would suffice. On the other hand, there are small moments in the series where you know that the sensates speak to each other in their own language but because of their connection they understand each other, e.g. when Sun and Capheus meet and they understand each other, Sun asks him, “Do you speak Korean?” and Capheus says, “No.”

It has to be said, all eight storylines are mediocre when you look at them separately. Riley’s tragic loss is wonderfully acted but looks too familiar. Capheus’ narrative brings at times some lighthearted relief but it doesn’t add to the general arc. Lito, his boyfriend Hernando and beard Daniela have great chemistry- a Tumblr dream come to life. Yet, Lito’s narrative stands on his own until the last couple of episodes where’s he’s pulled into the fight of the sensates to rescue Riley. The only exception could be Nomi – played by the trans actress Jamie Clayton (!) – who plays an important part as a San Franciscan trans female character who fight society’s standards and the occasional TERF. Her arc is natural, layered and she has wonderful chemistry with her very supportive girlfriend Amanita.

Some of the performances fall flat and the swishy camerawork definitely doesn’t add to the quality. You can’t escape the cheesiness and terrible, terrible dialogue. Sure, Sun and Wolfgang are always used as the fighters when the others are in trouble; Will brings his critical thinking skills in times of duress; Capheus knows how to drive the get-a-away car; Lito will tell the perfect lie; Nomi can erase you from the internet; and Riley plays the white damsel in distress whilst being in a bland relationship with Will. All the sensates are seemingly good, kind and idealistic. Nevertheless, it still is a welcome change from the usual assholes that parade on our screens. Plus: Diversity (!).

Why should you watch Sense8? A) The genuine bond between all the sensates; B) The series really flows when the sensates finally work together to fight against Whispers and BPO and manage to control their skills; C) The Wachowskis do know how to aptly bring fight choreography to life on screen.

Sense8 is a clusterfuck of clichés, mediocre storylines and inept world building. Still, binge watch the series to enjoy the human journey of the eight sensates and maybe the Wachowskis and Netflix will take note and improve season 2 – they’ve mapped out five seasons. Sense8 will prosper on Netflix.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iKpKAlbJ7BQ”]

Giselle Defares comments on film, fashion (law) and American pop culture. See her blog here.

The Fresh Slice of Life of ‘Ackee & Saltfish’

Friendship between women has been depicted in an array of illustrious shapes in our pop culture. Who hasn’t seen the indelible images of Thelma and Louise, Cher and Dionne, Romy and Michelle, Leslie and Anne? The new kids on the block that will nestle themselves into our cultural lexicon are: Olivia and Rachel. British humor is revered and known for blending dark humor with peculiar physical comedy, but try listing at least three films off the top of your head that are focused on the Black British experience and black British humor; you’ll likely come up short. However, there’s now ‘Ackee & Saltfish,’ a witty step forward in closing the gap.

This is a guest post by Giselle Defares.

Friendship between women has been depicted in an array of illustrious shapes in our pop culture. Who hasn’t seen the indelible images of Thelma and Louise, Cher and Dionne, Romy and Michelle, Leslie and Anne? The new kids on the block that will nestle themselves into our cultural lexicon are: Olivia and Rachel. British humor is revered and known for blending dark humor with peculiar physical comedy, but try listing at least three films off the top of your head that are focused on the Black British experience and black British humor; you’ll likely come up short. However, there’s now Ackee & Saltfish, a witty step forward in closing the gap.

The Jamaican-British director Cecile Emeke forged her own path of limitless creativity – outside the mainstream media – with her honest, humoristic storytelling. Another filmmaker who created her own niche is Issa Rae, who established an successful career out of her YouTube series The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl, that resulted in a deal with HBO for her TV pilot and a bestselling novel of the same name. While both managed to create space where the doors were closed that’s where the similarities end.

Emeke garnered the public’s attention via her “Fake Deep” poem, and through her phenomenal work on the Strolling docu-series. She has carved a safe space for young Black women and men to vent and offer their unique perspectives navigating the Western world whilst being Black. In an interview with The Washington Post, Emeke explained how she created her docu-series, saying, “Strolling was born out of a desire to capture and share intra-communal discussions within the black community in hopes of affirming others and relieving alienation. I started off capturing conversations with friends, but since Strolling has grown, the conversations have grown to include people all over the world. I’m aiming to touch every corner of the diaspora.” Those are lofty goals and it seems she’s about to fulfill them. Her work was selected by Tribeca N.O.W., which celebrates new online work of independent filmmakers, BBC Trending recently called her YouTube channel “young, British, witty and black.” The New York Times said her work was “rendered with a complexity and depth that is exhilarating to watch.” Not bad for someone who only picked up a camera at the start of 2014.

Ackee & Saltfish is set on a warm Sunday afternoon in East London where we follow Olivia (Michelle Tiwo) and Rachel (Vanessa Babirye) on their quest to find food – or to be precise – the traditional Caribbean dish Ackee and saltfish. The duo planned a lavish brunch but Rachel forgot to soak the saltfish overnight so now they’re on a serious mission to find an authentic plate of Ackee and saltfish. On their stroll through the city hilarity ensues and tensions rise when we follow the best friends on their holy quest to find their Caribbean takeaway. The short film is written and directed by Emeke.

Emeke allows the viewer to closely follow two best friends who talk about pop culture, love, classism, racism, and the world at large, but there’s no drama when it comes to boyfriends, drugs, or other redundant tropes that seem to be prevalent when it comes to modern films about the Black British experience – i.e. Adulthood, Kidulthood, Top Boy (TV).

It’s a double-edged sword when it comes to Black women and media–they are underrepresented but at the same time molded in archetypes that are damaging society’s perception of Black women. Think of the Strong Black Woman, Mammy, Jezebel, Video Vixen, and so on. What’s so refreshing about Ackee & Saltfish is that Emeke simply presents an alternative. Olivia and Rachel are two Black women who are just livin’ life.

There’s an excellent balance between the two characters. Olivia has a distinct personality: bubbly, brash, outspoken and quick with her sometimes insensitive quips while Rachel is more grounded, contemplative and not necessarily as interested in talking about socio-political issues. When Olivia is firing up about gentrification and cultural appropriation, Rachel sarcastically claps back with “Aww, did you learn some new words off Black Twitter today?” Her reaction reflects their different stances on the issues at hand. Whilst Olivia is ready to fight the status quo, Rachel succumbs to the fact that they can’t change the situation right away. For many, Olivia’s anger will seem justified but Emeke never portrays the characters being right or wrong. It’s up to the audience to form their own opinion.

Can we see Olivia and Rachel as carefree Black girls? Jamala Johns wrote in her article for Refinery29 on carefree Black girls: “By putting the word ‘carefree’ front and center, it’s making a statement that we don’t want to be solely defined by hardships and stereotypes so we can enjoy our lives as we please. Carefree should not be mistaken with careless.” So with that in mind, it’s refreshing to see Olivia and Rachel quibbling whether or not Olivia will find her own Common but they’re simultaneously aware of the issues surrounding religion, race, the social implications of gentrification in their neighborhood, and so much more. There are a couple of funny scenes where Olivia and Rachel riff off each other:

Olivia: “I want Solange to adopt me.”

Rachel: “Why?”

Olivia: “Well, think about it, Solange as a mother would be the most amazing thing in the world.”

Rachel: “Why?! How do you know that?”

Olivia: “Like, Julez is livin’. I’m trying to live with Julez.”

This and several other short scenes underline the depth of their friendship and the ease with which they talk to each other on the most mundane topics. Emeke gives us a glimpse into the private world that exists between two best friends. Often comparisons are made with the Comedy Central hit Broad City, or Pursuit of Sexiness by SNL’s Sasheer Zamata and Girl Code’s Nicole Bryer, where you also follow the lives of two 20-somethings in the big city, but you’ll find out that Ackee & Saltfish stands on its own.

The crux of the appeal of Ackee & Saltfish lies in the humor and the familiarity. The underlying layer of authenticity simmers throughout the film when you hear Olivia and Rachel throw quips back and forth. It’s like you can see them walking past you on the street, and you catch funny snippets of an intimate conversation where you want to chime in – but instead you’ll hold your tongue. The cinematography of the film is straightforward, sometimes Emeke uses soft focus, or slow, inquisitive zooms. Emeke narrows the story down to the classic unity of time, place, and action. The core of the film is a long walk, recorded in real time and the takes create the appearance that the scenes are off-the-cuff improvised, but in fact they’re carefully scripted and extensively rehearsed. It’s cinematic strolling at its best.

Ackee & Saltfish is a short film that consists of small events, many conversations, and a lot of friendship. It is a tribute to healthy female friendship between Black women, but also a film about pop culture, gentrification, classism, race and just two girls enjoying life. The narrative is not groundbreaking. Nevertheless, the natural chemistry between the leads, the sometimes uncontrollably witty scenes, dialogues and observations and richness of details carry the film with ease.

Just like the Caribbean dish, this short film will make you thirsty and crave for more. Luckily, you can now quench your thirst since Emeke followed the short format with a five-part series on YouTube where you can follow the everyday adventures of best friends Olivia and Rachel.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rPu-DN58KuM”]

See also at Bitch Flicks: Ackee & Saltfish: There Are Other Narratives to Explore

Giselle Defares comments on film, fashion (law), and American pop culture. See her blog here.

The Sublime Sadism in ‘Breaking the Waves’

Her role as sexual martyr is better suitable for Bess than the role that is expected of her: the patriarchal role of the woman. The religious community in which Bess is brought up is stifling and oppressive, in which male domination prevails in both the personal and public life of the community (the household and the entire commune is dominated by the elderly male church leaders).

This is a guest post by Giselle Defares.

The relationship between faith and love, the religious experience that is love, suffering and sacrifice, are themes that frequently recur in our pop culture. For some, love can be seen as the most powerful emotion we know, an emotion that can entail spiritual forces. In Breaking The Waves love and faith appear, despite the spiritual connotations, as matters proposed in a very earthly and physical manner. However, the age-old trope of the suffering woman who sacrifices herself so that the man triumphs is nothing new.

The Danish director Lars von Trier follows the beat of his own drum. Von Trier can be called many things: neurotic, shit stirrer and allegedly misogynist. In 2011 he was declared persona non grata after his ridiculous remarks in Cannes during a press conference for Melancholia: “I really wanted to be a Jew, and then I found out that I was really a Nazi… What can I say? I understand Hitler.” He took a “vow of silence” after this debacle. Not only did von Trier make various headlines in his career via his questionable, controversial statements, it’s also the result of the themes portrayed in his films. In most of his films the female characters are placed in violent and sexual situations. In an old interview with The Guardian, Von Trier said “Basically, I’m afraid of everything in life, except filmmaking.” Right.

Breaking the Waves centers round a strict Calvinist community in rural Scotland. Bess McNeill (Emily Watson) is a young woman who expresses her piety by cleaning the church. Here she holds various conversations with God. When Bess wants to marry Jan Nyman (Stellan Skarsgård), an outsider who works on the oil rigs, the church elderly are hesitant. Nevertheless, the first weeks of their marriage are successful. When Jan needs to get back to work at the rig, Bess becomes emotionally unhinged and begs God to bring him back. As a result of a fatal accident on the rig, Jan is brought back to the mainland. He is completely paralyzed, and his life is uncertain; both Bess and “God” blame themselves for Jan’s situation. When she asks God for help, he answers with the question: “Who do you want to save, yourself or Jan?” Bess then makes the fatal decision to save Jan.

Whether or not it was the intent of von Trier, Bess is frequently compared to the Christ figure in a modern tragedy. Her sacrifice was for a higher purpose and “not in vain.” In Bible and Cinema: Fifty Key Films, Adele Reinhartz gives two basic criteria that a movie character must meet in order to be seen as a Christ figure: “That there be some direct and specific resemblance to Christ and that the fundamental message associated with the possible Christ figure has to be consistent to the life and work of Christ, and contrary to his message about liberation and love.”

On the basis of these two criteria Bess can be seen as the female representation of a Christ figure. Her love, like that of Christ, is selfless and knows no boundaries. Bess commits herself entirely to sacrifice her being for this selfless love, even if it leads to death. However, this form of sacrifice is soon to be regarded as a specific element in her life. Bess is easily persuaded by Jan, because “God” commands her to fulfill his wishes. Jan’s requirements are so also God’s requirements. Bess is obedient and submissive to the male power, which forces her to place herself in unpleasant situations trying to save a man.

A representation of this point can be seen in the middle of the film when Bess prays directly to a hospitalized Jan. Bess exclaims, “I love you, Jan.” Jan answers, “I love you too, Bess. You are the love of my life.” Both Jan and God have the same voice, thereby Jan and God are put on the same pedestal. The masculine is the divine, the women must be submissive therein.

The female suffering in Breaking the Waves is deemed more important than the female existence. Her role as sexual martyr is better suitable for Bess than the role that is expected of her: the patriarchal role of the woman. The religious community in which Bess is brought up is stifling and oppressive, in which male domination prevails in both the personal and public life of the community (the household and the entire commune is dominated by the elderly male church leaders).

The position of the women in this patriarchal community is determined by the male counterparts. The imposed position of the wife doesn’t sit well with Bess; in the first chapter she goes against the grain by marrying Jan in the church, then she speaks in the church, which is forbidden for women. They also ask the women in the community that they remain calm and adhere to their men. Not the whimsical Bess: she beats Jan as he arrives late to their wedding, and is hysterical when he leaves her to work on the rig. This latter characteristic, hysteria, is considered as one of the “weakest” properties of a woman. Alyda Faber, a theologian, states in Redeeming Sexual Violence? A Feminist Reading of Breaking the Waves: “Von Trier creates the image of Bess as sexual martyr through a peculiar valorization of feminine abjection as madness, formlessness, malleability, hysteria. This common reiteration of femininity as weakness.”

Although Bess has more difficulty with the role of sexual martyr, she fulfills the role better than the imposed patriarchal role of a woman. Von Trier uses Bess as a sinner and as a martyr; archetypes that enable that Bess – from a feminist theological approach- is seen as a Mary Magdalene. Von Trier also literally refers to Mary Magdalene in Bess. This happens in the dialogue in which God speaks to Bess: “Mary Magdalene had sin, and she is my beloved.” Bess is caught between the two paradigms where Mary Magdalene was stuck as the virgin and the whore.

Her character begins as that of a virgin, which fits into the mold created by the church until she persists throughout the film and turns into a “whore.” It starts with her sexual relationship with her husband, where she learns to give her love of God over to Jan. Her faith and love into “the word” God has been replaced by the belief in carnal love. Bess at one point states: “You cannot love words. You cannot be in love with a word. You can love another human being.” Her faith for the greater good is stronger than the word of God; this faith in love has led her to sexual freedom–from virgin to whore. Despite Bess being often compared to Mary Magdalene and represented as a Christ figure she remains an ordinary woman who only has to offer her goodness.

Watson is phenomenal in her role as Bess and she deservedly received an Oscar nomination. She truly carries the film and has great chemistry with Skarsgård in the first chapters. Her suffering is stretched throughout the film causing pain and simultaneously pity for her character. Admittedly, the plot is very thin and at times feels illogical. The other characters feel like cardboard cutouts but the film is saved by Watson as the whimsical Bess.

Von Trier styled the film almost like a documentary while using the handheld camera work of cinematographer Robbie Müller. The images are grainy, gray and pale in color, and there’s almost no use of a musical score. At first, the angular camera work doesn’t seem to work with the emotional storyline nor the strict and rigid community in which it takes place. Only with the announcement of a new chapter in the film are images shown that almost resemble moving paintings in beautiful, vibrant colors. As if the gaze of God descends on rural Scotland.

Breaking the Waves is, in essence, just an good old fashioned melodrama. It’s captivating and moving, but there’s no room for false sentiment.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NmcnddpruXM”]

Giselle Defares comments on film, fashion (law) and American pop culture. See her blog here.

The Modern Femme Fatale in Nicolas Wending Refn’s Neo-Noir ‘Drive’

Irene comes across as sexually inhibited in her relationship with Driver because she knows that her husband will soon return home from prison. However, from the moment that she meets Driver, she relies on him for help.

The Modern Femme Fatale Irene (Carey Mulligan)

This is a guest post by Giselle Defares.

The alluring femme fatale always played an important part in our Western cinematic history. The archetype of the errant woman was present ever since Theda Bara graced the screen in the silent film era of the 1920s. Nevertheless, it was film noir that polished the archetype. The highly stylized and suspenseful film genre formed the basis of the Hollywood creation of the femme fatales in the 1940s and 1950s. The genre broke the conventional stereotypes of one-dimensional, insecure and dependent women. Instead women were vivacious, captivating, seductive female characters who owned the screen while sashaying through their own created webs of deceit and betrayal (although some would say they were manipulative and cold-blooded with an sexual self-serving attitude). The archetype changed over time, which is intertwined with the modernization of the film industry. The femme fatale is in its essence a tool to help us understand the limits of social and cultural roles surrounding women. The neo-noir Drive (2011) is an homage to the old-fashioned art form of escapism.

It took more than six years before Drive was shot. The film adaptation of the novel by James Sallis initially appeared to be heading in the same direction as the popcorn flick The Fast and the Furious. Hugh Jackman and director Neil Marshall (Doomsday, Centurion) were first attached to the project. When Gosling took the place of Jackman, he specifically asked for director Nicolas Winding Refn. The quirky Danish director debuted with the raw thriller Pusher, and followed it with Bronson with Tom Hardy as lead about Britain’s most violent prisoner and he also directed Valhalla Rising, a Viking movie filled with brutal fights, but ends in silent contemplation. Winding Refn is an unpredictable director with his own peculiar visual style. The film has similarities with an ’80s classic. In 1978, Walter Hill created The Driver with Ryan O’Neal as nameless hero. Similar to the main character in Drive, we will never know his name. They do share a profession: if somewhere in the city a robbery is committed, they are the cold-blooded drivers of the getaway car. In 2011, Winding Refn won the award for Best Director at the Cannes Film Festival for Drive.

Drive centers around Ryan Gosling as a handsome loner, silent, gentle and a master on the road. He works in the garage of Shannon (Bryan Cranston), who gives him criminal jobs and occasionally work as a stunt driver on Hollywood film sets. Shannon wants his most talented driver to start a new career in the professional racing circuit and concludes a deal with two mafia business partners, Bernie Rose (Albert Brooks) and Nino (Ron Perlman). The young driver, meanwhile, gets acquainted with his neighbor, Irene (Carey Mulligan) and her son, Benicio. Irene immediately falls for his charm. Only the scorpion on the back of his jacket recalls the dark aspects of his existence. And that one, beautiful, ominous shot where we see him on a film set as a stand-in with a latex mask over his head.

Irene (Carey Mulligan) and Driver (Ryan Gosling)

Is Irene the modern femme fatale in Drive? One of the interesting aspects of the character is that she’s played by Mulligan. The original character in the script was an Hispanic woman named Irina. In a conversation with Interview Magazine, Winding Refn bluntly states that he gave Carey Mulligan the part because she “seemed pure,” like someone he wanted to protect. Apparently he couldn’t imagine a Latina actress in the part. He picked Mulligan specifically because she fits the mold of the damsel in distress that in Hollywood is synonymous with white.

Irene is described as a beautiful and seductive woman but she’s not a direct danger to Driver. We can see that there’s tension between Driver and Irene, but Irene is more insecure than hyperaware of her sexuality. Irene is the object of sexual desire of Driver and because he becomes intrigued by her, he will do anything to help her. The classic femme fatale is often seen as sexually uninhibited, independent, and ambitious. Irene comes across as sexually inhibited in her relationship with Driver because she knows that her husband will soon return home from prison. However, from the moment that she meets Driver, she relies on him for help.

Irene’s husband asks Driver for help when he comes back from prison because of an outstanding debt. Driver wants to protect Irene and as a result he becomes entangled in a criminal job to raise the money, and that’s eventually his downfall. Irene never explicitly asked Driver for help. Instead of the so-called “evil seductress who tempts the man and brings about his destruction,” Irene seems more a passive, innocent woman who indirectly without intent, will perish the man.

Irene seems to be a combination of the femme fatale and the femme attrapée. The femme attrapée is, according to Janey Place in “Women in Film Noir,” a woman who “offers the possibility of integration for the alienated, lost man into the stable world of secure values, roles and identities. She gives love, understanding (or at least forgiveness), asks very little in return (just that he come back to her) and is generally visually passive and static.”

Driver is here the alienated, lost man and Irene gives him love and understanding. Both characters seem lonely and find solace in their relationship. Irene comes across as a passive, brave, and sweet woman but functions in the story as a femme fatale. Her innocence ensures that Driver makes the wrong choices. In film noir, the male protagonist would make the wrong choices because the femme fatale has instigated him with her sexuality, but Drive allows Driver to make these choices to save Irene. Drive has an open ending so the future of Driver remains unclear.

The femme fatale in the modern neo-noir films from the 1960s, 1970s and onward transformed into a more passive role, rather than active and manipulative. We see elements of Irene herein. Irene doesn’t fit the classic description of the femme fatale. She’s no Gloria Swanson, Marlene Dietrich, Barbara Stanwyck or even a Sharon Stone. It’s not the loss of control by a seductive woman that resulted in the downfall of Driver but instead taking the rains, coercion and protective instinct. The archetype will pop up in films in years to come since it always captures our imagination.

The tight script was penned down by the Academy Award-nominated screenwriter Hossein Amini. Amini was hesitant at first because of the non-linear structure of the novel but he definitely made the transition from page to screen work. Cinematographer Newton Thomas Sigel neatly used wide-angle lenses instead of handheld camerawork to capture Winding Refn’s visual style. The film was shot digitally and Winding Refn was able to capture evocative, intense images of Los Angeles. The film has a 1980s atmosphere which comes true via the cars, music, clothes, but especially with the architecture in downtown Los Angeles. It all reflects the art house approach of Winding Refn.

Wending Refn follows the beat of his own drum. As a result, Drive isn’t your run of the mill action flick. The emphasis in Drive lies first and foremost on the characters, accompanied by the speed, and the wonderful soundtrack. Winding Refn managed to create an enigmatic film that engages, shocks, and surprises–old fashioned escapism and inescapable at once.

See also at Bitch Flicks: Drive and the Need to Identify the Virgin or Whore in the Passenger Seat, by Leigh Kolb

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pe6eOqheva8″]

Giselle Defares comments on film, fashion (law) and American pop culture. See her blog here.