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hello-that-happened · 3 years

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How She-Ra, Wrong Hordak, and I Deconverted in Six Steps

Alright y'all, it's time for my fourth essay exploring how She-Ra and the Princess of Power (SPOP) used Christian themes and parallels to provide a humanist message.

My first post named 9 major messages of SPOP that contradict Christian fundamentalism.

My second gave the historical context of how our generation and Noelle's are growing up to overthrow Christian fundamentalism after it became such a powerful enemy in the U.S.

My third discussed the parallel between Horde Prime’s rage at Hordak’s self-naming and the Christian idea that everyone is an instrument of God’s will.

Now I want to discuss how Adora's and Wrong Hordak's journeys defections from the Horde parallel my story, and potentially others', of leaving Christianity. Adora and Wrong Hordak experience many of the same stages in his journey out of the Horde as many ex-Christians experience leaving Christianity.

My own experience leaving Christianity was a journey into atheism, so I will interpret Adora's and Wrong Hordak's stories through that lens. Plenty of people who left toxic/conservative Christianity behind still believe in God, in heaven, and/or in the value of Christian communities. I do not want to minimize or dismiss their experiences, and I welcome progressive Christians as allies in the fight for LGBT+ rights and social justice generally. But when I watched Adora and Wrong Hordak leave their belief in The Horde behind, I saw myself leaving Christianity behind. I want to tell my story through/alongside theirs. I hope some of you can relate, but it is okay if you cannot, regardless of your religious beliefs or lack thereof.

Deconversion in Fast-Forward

Adora, Wrong Hordak, and I escaped from the organizations that raised us and its worldview in six somewhat-distinct stages:

Multiple major characters' arcs in She-Ra begin with rethinking their loyalty to The Horde. Wrong Hordak and Adora both lose their faith in The Horde after a lifetime of indoctrination into its ideals and goals. Their journey away from The Horde mirrors many young Americans' away from Christianity, with at least one notable exception: time. Deconversion takes multiple years for most ex-Christians, but only takes a few days for Adora and Wrong Hordak. Their de-conversion basically represents a speed run of most ex-Christians'.

Full Breakdown of Each Stage

(tw: mention of depression and suicidal ideation)

Adora takes delight in pretending to beat up an imaginary princess in the show's first scene, and later calls princesses "violent instigators who don't even know how to control their powers." She believes in the ideals of The Horde, and feels excited to rise through the ranks to become Force Captain. Obedience to Horde authorities comes fairly naturally to her, and she even chides Catra for being "disrespectful."

Wrong Hordak consistently repeats his loyalty to Horde Prime throughout his first episode and beyond. Even while being attacked by his fellow clones, Wrong Hordak affirms that "We serve Horde Prime's will." Unprompted in the next episode he happily announces, "I believe in Horde Prime!"

I felt proud, as a kid in Sunday School, that I could answer more questions about the Bible than any of the other kids. My church's youth group was the most enjoyable part of my middle school years especially because I got to hang out with the guy I only recently realized I'd had a huge gay crush on. I started viewing "feeling happy" and "feeling the presence of God" as identical. I wrote in my 2011 "Faith Statement" for my church's Confirmation that "I fell in love with God," and that "I thank God that I was born into a good Christian family and was raised to honor God."

Adora is kidnapped by the Horde's enemies and taken away from her home, separated from all of the voices reassuring her that The Horde is a good organization with a just mission. Shadow Weaver is not around to give her orders or map out her future anymore, leaving her alone with her enemies and her thoughts.

Wrong Hordak's connection to the hive-mind he knew for all of his life is severed. "I am…alone?" he asks in shock, then breaks down and cries, "I am alone!" For someone who grew up living in the same mind as his entire communal "family," suddenly losing that connection to everyone he knew would be traumatizingly shocking. The best equivalent I can think of in human experience is being suddenly ripped away from your family and community and then never seeing them again.

I kept conflating happiness with my faith in God for years, even after my crush moving away drove me into suicidal ideation for a couple weeks in 2011. My mental health recovered for a year before settling into a long-term depression in 2012. Because I conflated happiness with the presence of God, my depression felt like something had taken away the presence of God.

Adora defends the organization that raised her by quoting her highest authority: "Hordak says we're doing what's best for Etheria. We're trying to make things better. More orderly." Glimmer argues against Adora's worldview by showing her (1) that princesses are just people instead of dangerous violent monsters, and (2) what The Horde has done: first the ruins of a village destroyed by The Horde, and then that the village of Thaymor which she was told to attack was peaceful, innocent, and happy.

Wrong Hordak grabs Entrapta by the hair for the crime of "trespassing," and enjoys saying, "Prime shall hear of this, and his punishment shall be merciless." But once Bow’s arrow disconnects him from the Horde’s hivemind, he is simultaneously stranded away from the people who constantly reinforced his belief in Horde Prime’s goodness and stuck with a group of people opposing Prime. For a long time, Wrong Hordak simply pretends that the Best Friend Squad™ serve Horde Prime just like everyone else he ever knew. Every line of his dialogue in “Taking Control” is a quick, snappy motto he took from Horde propaganda, like “I believe…in Horde Prime” and “True nourishment comes from the favor of Horde Prime.” [see footnote 1]

I was well aware, growing up in a progressive suburb, that plenty of my high school friends were nonreligious. After my depression sunk in, I found myself arguing about religion with a brilliant but very smug British friend who consistently refuted my arguments in ways I could not dispute. Searching for arguments to support my pre-existing beliefs, I started reading Christian apologetics, but found nothing my friends could not easily refute. [see footnote 2]

Adora sees the ruins of the site of a Horde attack while with Glimmer and Bow, and at first rejects what Glimmer tells her about what she sees to preserve her worldview: "This doesn't make any sense. The Horde would never do something like this…You don't know them like I do." But when she sees The Horde attack Thaymor, the belief system painstakingly constructed by The Horde and drilled into her over 15 (or so) years comes crashing down. At first she can rationalize away her experiences to preserve her beliefs, but when the evidence of her own senses becomes overwhelming she cannot resolve the cognitive dissonance between her belief in The Horde's goodness and her direct experience of The Horde attacking the innocent town of Thaymor. Her worldview cannot explain what she experienced.

Wrong Hordak keeps his belief in Horde Prime's all-powerful nature for a long time after joining the Best Friend Squad. However, when until the Best Friend Squad catches him in a contradiction. He tells them what he was told: that Krytis does not exist. As soon as they start questioning the contradiction he was fed, he becomes extremely uncomfortable. He maintains his denial of Krytis' existence even after they land on the planet, until he can no longer deny the evidence that Horde Prime is not all-powerful.

I grew up, like many of you, on the Internet. My depression began during the heyday of the online atheist movement—and by “heyday,” I mean “seemingly inescapable presence,” especially on YouTube where I hung out. I kept running into comments asking questions that I could not answer: Why does Christianity seem to promote belief based on internal feelings instead of observable evidence? Why would an all-loving god send anyone to hell forever? Why did I believe claims from Christian doctrine and doubt claims from every other religion? Why has Christianity seemed to cling to the past instead of embracing a progressive future? The questions overwhelmed me. I found myself terrified of my own growing doubts. Eventually, my belief was based entirely on two emotions: nostalgia for past happy experiences I associated with Christianity, and a fear of losing the vague hope those experiences gave me.

The first time that Bow and Glimmer met Adora, they immediately labeled her “Horde soldier!,” and the label stuck through the first three episodes. Adora has always identified herself primarily as a soldier serving The Horde, echoing the messages she has heard for her whole life: “Shadow Weaver said it didn't matter who I was before, that—that I was nothing before Hordak took me in.” The language of “I was nothing” reflects cult dynamics where a group tries to retain someone permanently by making them think of themself as nothing more than their worshipful loyalty to the group. Similarly, it is a common Christian belief that “without Jesus we are nothing.”

After realizing that Horde Prime fes him lies, Wrong Hordak collapsed into a sobbing mess. “Who am I if not an exalted brother of Prime?,” he bawled, still thinking that the only legitimate kind of identity is one based on fully devoted worship of an all-powerful authority. Per Entrapta, “It seem[ed] that Wrong Hordak has begun to question the meaning of life.” She later described Wrong Hordak’s breakdown as an “existential crisis,” which happens “when individuals question whether their lives have meaning, purpose, or value, and are negatively impacted by the contemplation.” Without an all-powerful father figure to value him, Wrong Hordak thought, who would?

I identified myself fundamentally as a Christian for my entire childhood and teen years. I found joy, purpose, and a sense of self in my religion. Leaving my religion behind felt like burning the bridge to who I was behind me. When I de-converted from Christianity, I felt like I was standing at the brink of a void. I thought that without finding goodness in God, I might find no goodness at all. [see footnote 3]

When Wrong Hordak finishes (digitally, but also emotionally) processing the Krytis data logs of Horde Prime leaving in defeat, he explicitly renounces his old loyalties and declares his opposition to the organization and beliefs that he used to believe in with all his heart: "Brothers! Horde Prime lied to us. He is a false ruler. We must rise up against him, and free the universe from his unjust reign!"

After Adora betrays the Horde at the Battle of Thaymor, she pledges her loyalty to Bright Moon in her battle against the Horde: "I’ve seen for myself the atrocities the Horde has committed against the people of Etheria, and I’m ready to fight to stop them. If you give me the chance, I know I can help the Rebellion turn the tide of the war."

I didn't have an explicit declaration statement like Wrong Hordak or Adora. However, on 5/5/15 I arranged a meeting with my very friendly and understanding youth pastor as a last-ditch effort to save my faith. I hoped that he would crush my worrying doubts. Instead, actually encouraged me to become agnostic and to look into non-Christian beliefs on the subject of religion. Rather than feeling terrified of what I might find and wishing that someone could indoctrinate me into my old belief system, I started on a path to discover the truth wherever it might lead me.

Footnotes for Context

Christian fundamentalists’ similarly simplistic snappy phrases have been labeled by ex-Christians as “thought-terminating clichés… brief, highly reductive, definitive-sounding phrases” where “Simple labels are attached to something you like or dislike, and they are the start and finish of all thought on the subject.” Such black-and-white “totalistic” thinking is common in Christian fundamentalism, especially how it labels complex political topics as somehow being merely a cover for “spiritual warfare” between the totally good/Godly side and the totally evil/demonic side.

Specifically, I started reading an “Intelligent Design” propaganda apologetics book by Lee Strobel called The Case For A Creator. A self-proclaimed former atheist, Strobel wrote his The Case For series using my same research strategy: Only do research using sources that already agree with you. Whereas Strobel exclusively talked to other Christian apologists, though, I at least tried talking to atheists. Anyway, I walked into school one day with a confident smile and a copy of Strobel’s book and sat down with some friends. One of them, another brilliant atheist but with a far subtler and humbler personality, noticed it and his face immediately sunk into the expression of someone exhausted by the topic as he braced himself for my bullshit. When I confidently asserted a creationist talking point trying to dismiss the findings of some old experiment, he not only knew the experiment but immediately dismantled my talking point. I had no reply. What struck me most was not just his swift rebuttal, but his weary tone: My arguments were not only bad, but so bad that he was genuinely tired of them.

Around the same time, I became obsessed with the character of Kefka from Final Fantasy 6. To me, Kefka represented what I feared most about leaving Christianity behind — that I would lose any sense of meaning, purpose, or morality in my life. ("Life… Dreams… Hope…Where do they come from? And where are they headed? Such meaningless things!") Edgy, I know, but in my mind that kind of absurdism seemed to be an inevitable result of abandoning my religious beliefs. Fortunately, I came to understand that there is plenty of meaning, purpose, beauty, and goodness outside of the particular religion that I happened to be born into.

#she-ra #spop #she-ra spoilers #spop spoilers #religion #christianity #long post #...#about me #religious meta

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galoots · 4 years

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Magica teaches Donald a little bit of magic, as a treat.

This took me twenty thousand years to fulfill this request, but I did it. Enjoy Magica teaching Donald a little bit of magic... as a treat.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18119300/chapters/58460413

Please reblog and comment if you read and enjoyed this chapter! I read all my comments and try to respond to each one!

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A loud bang had Donald rushing towards his uncle’s office. With Scrooge away on a trip and Duckworth out shopping, he was the designated man of the house, therefore it fell to him to guard against whatever heinous invaders that besieged it. This was Donald’s first time watching himself and, even though it was only for an hour or so, he was determined to prove how responsible he could be. Duckworth would come home with the shopping and praise him for the adult he’d become in their first hour apart. Truly, Donald nodded, the last 15 minutes had hardened him to the life of a responsible adult. He’d weathered great obstacles that day. He made his own peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He even cleaned up his mess afterwards completely unprompted. It wasn’t easy out there for a kid like him, but he’d shored up his strength and cut the crust off his sandwich all by himself.

Now, his willpower would truly be put to the test as he faced whatever horrors lay beyond the thick, wooden door of his uncle’s study. He took a deep measured breath before turning the knob. Mustering his courage, Donald apprehensively inched the door open. Peering around the edge of the door, he caught a glance of black iridescent feathers shining in the sunlight and his fear turned to delight.

“Magica!” He threw the door open the rest of the way with aplomb, rushing to hug his very best friend.

The witch wasn’t having any of it. With a sneer, she flicked her wand in his direction. “No,” she replied in monotone. The spell she cast sent Donald floating up into the air. Denied a hug, he waved at Magica as he gently bobbed in the air like a feather on a rippling lake. Magica did not wave back. She fixed Donald with a look and demanded of him, “Where is your uncle, spawn?”

Donald waggled his arms in an attempt to swim closer towards Magica. “He’s on a business trip!” He flapped his arms hard but made no progress whatsoever.

“Ugh!” Magica threw her head back in disgust. “That is so like him. I come all the way here to try out a new spell and he doesn’t even bother to be here. So inconsiderate.” She glanced around for something to take her annoyance out on. Spotting the documents neatly stacked on Scrooge’s desk, she swiped them onto the floor. “This is why I hate McDuck’s.”

Donald’s hand flew to his beak in surprise when he gasped. “You hate McDuck’s?”

She shot him a bored look. “Yes.” She flicked her wand again in Donald’s direction.

Donald fell abruptly to the floor, landing directly on his behind. He stood up, rubbing his behind to mitigate the pain. “My butt!”

Magica paid his cry no heed. She had already blown past him, out of the door and into the hallway. Donald chased after her, calling after her. “Why do you hate McDuck’s?”

The witch crossed her arms and tapped her wand against her upper left arm in a testy gesture. “Hundreds of years ago, long before you were ever born,” she paused and looked pointedly at Donald, “I visited medieval Scotland. I was shopping in the bazaar for a goat. I needed it for a ritual.”

“Wow…” Donald nodded as he stumbled after the pacing witch. “Hundreds of years ago…” He counted on his fingers. “That’s like… a bajillion years old! You’re almost as old as my uncle!”

“Ha!” Magica stopped her furious pacing. The small bark of laughter and her sudden halt surprised Donald, and he crashed into her back. He clutched at her black dress to steady himself and looked up at Magica with awe. “You’re terrible at math.” She tapped her wand against her chin as she recalled centuries old events.

“I was about to speak with the shepherd when bam,” Magica shot some sparks from her wand, “one of your ancestors cut in front of me and interrupted me.”

Donald stared at Magica, waiting for her to continue. She didn’t. That was the end of the story.

“That’s it?” Donald asked.

“That’s it?” Magica brushed the boy off of her. She was not his mum and wouldn’t abide having a brat cling to her skirts like she was. “It was so rude! And he said, sorry ma’am, in his stupid Scottish accent. Just like that. Disgusting.” Magica smiled to herself. “From that day forward, I swore to exact my revenge on his entire familial line by bedeviling their lives with as many inconveniences as possible.”

Donald rubbed his chin as he let her words sink in. Her story of his long-deceased ancestor left him unsatisfied. Certainly, it wasn’t the pinnacle of polite behavior to cut in front of someone, but it hardly seemed like a reason for such a deep-rooted grudge. Yet for centuries, Magica would target a McDuck and plague his life with minor spells.

“That seems like a silly reason to dislike someone.” Donald extended his hand towards Magica in a friendly gesture. “Why don’t we let bygone be bygones and be friends instead?”

“Gross.” She swatted away his hand. “I don’t have friends.”

Donald’s hand dropped. He looked at her with a pitiful expression. “You don’t have any friends? That’s so sad!”

Magica was startled, flinching back and raising her hands defensively in response. “No, it isn’t!” She spat back. With a deep inhale, she composed herself and crossed her arms once again. “Besides,” she glanced, almost shyly, at Donald, “I do have one friend…”

“Is it me?” Donald’s eyes sparkled with hope. It had to be him.

“What?! Baphomet, no!” Magica gagged dramatically. “My only friend is Ratface.”

Donald was disappointed to hear they weren’t friends. He wanted so desperately to be. At least, he reasoned, Magica did have one friend. He said none of this. Instead, blurting out, “that’s a weird name.”

Magica swiped her hand across her head. Her feathers shined under the halogen lights. “It’s just a nickname.” She paused, glancing at the enraptured duckling. “For my brother. His name is Poe.”

Donald stomped his feet in a frenetic, excited jig. “You have a brother?!” He clapped in delight. “I’m learning so much about you today.”

Magica sneered. She turned sharply on his heel and retreated to the nearest window.

“Wait!” Donald dived to stop her. He clutched to her ankle for dear life as she continued to walk, dragging him along with her. “Don’t leave yet!”

Magica kept walking. The ninety-pound duckling shackled to her leg did nothing to slow her down. “McDuck isn’t here. So, there is no reason for me to be either.”

“Um… but…” Donald sputtered. There had to be a way to make her stay. Even a few moments longer. “Maybe, um, you could teach me the spell?”

Magica slowed her walk slightly. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“Um,” Donald continued, “’cause, um, well…” The gears in his head churned. “You can teach me the spell so that, um, when Uncle Scrooge comes home, I can cast it!”

Magica stopped her hasty retreat. She was silent for a few moments, considering the proposition. “That’s just stupid enough to work.” A wicked grin slithered across her face. “If you mess it up, you might make his head explode. That’d be funny.”

Donald gulped. He wasn’t feeling so good about this plan.

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Magica had walked Donald through the spell what felt like a million times. She broke down the pronunciation of the Latin words into digestible chunks for the duckling to learn. The words felt foreign and strange in his mouth. She drilled him over and over again until he had learned the spell by heart. Satisfied he’d met her qualifications, Magica once again brandished her wand. In a grand puff of smoke, she disappeared into the ether. The only physical remembrance of her presence that remained was one single black feather that floated gently to the ground as the smoke dissipated. Donald bent down to retrieve. Holding the feather up to the light, he watched as the iridescent plume shifted from a radiant purple to a metallic blue to a beetle-green. Donald tucked it into the front pocket of his sailor-suit, near his heart. He patted the pocket which held his treasure. He mulled over the promise he had made to Magica. He didn’t want to trouble his uncle, much less explode his head, but he dearly wanted impress Magica. He knew that one day, he would finally win over Magica. Until then, whether she accepted it or not, she had a friend in Donald.

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Scrooge slumped up the front steps. Home again, home again. He was exhausted from travelling. But he knew waiting for him inside was a delicious homecooked meal, a soft bed all his own, and, best of all, a nephew ready to receive a hug. Donald always waited impatiently for his uncle to return home from business trips. Even with Duckworth to care for him, Donald got awful lonesome for his uncle when he was away. Truthfully, Scrooge felt the same. He couldn’t wait to embrace his little boy and tell him wondrous tales of where he had been and what he had done.

He opened the door with his arms spread wide, ready to receive a hug. As expected, Donald had rushed to the foyer upon hearing the taxi pull into their driveway. His boy was bounding down the staircase and towards him with glee. He had a peculiar black feather sticking from the plumage of his head. It had been placed there deliberately, sticking straight up like a signal. It looked familiar but Scrooge couldn’t quite place why.

Inches from their embrace, Donald screeched to a halt. “Wait!” he cried.

Scrooge waited, his arms still spread wide, utterly confused. Donald breathed in deeply and recited three words in a solemn voice. “Ranunculi galerum diruptio.”

As soon as he spoken these words, the crown of Scrooge’s top hat blew open with the violent force of a volcanic explosion from which hundreds of frogs spilled. The frogs landed one after another on the floor with a splat. Dazed but unhurt, they began to hop frantically about the enclosed space, loudly croaking their distress.

The force of the spell had caused Scrooge to fall back onto his behind. Despite the violence of the explosion, Scrooge was whole and hearty. Physically, at least. Mentally, his mind was reeling with confusion and utterly shaken by shock. The crown of his top hat flapped pitifully in the breeze that issued from the open door behind him. He clutched his heart and felt it race. His first rational thought he was able to conceive was checking to see if Donald was okay.

Donald was much more than okay. He was ecstatic. He danced around in glee and let a holler. “Pets!”

“Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!” Donald waddled furiously after the frogs, scooping them into his arms and depositing them into his pockets. With each frog he captured, he rattled off a name for his new pet. Jeremy, Samantha, Bernard, Donald Jr… On and on, he went as frogs hopped out of his grasp in a frightened bid for freedom.

Scrooge slid a hand down his face. He slumped over in relief. Donald was fine. That’s all that mattered. But as he sat and collected his thoughts, a sudden realization came over him.

He knew that feather. It belonged to Magica de Spell. Suddenly several puzzle pieces clicked into place for him. Of course, this bizarre occurrence was Magica’s fault. It always was.

Donald shoved a frog into his uncle’s face. Scrooge flinched away from the slimy beast.

“Unkie.” Donald peered at him with expectation. “Kiss the frog. He might turn into a prince!”

Scrooge sighed. Over the faint chorus of ribbiting frogs, he heard the far off cackle of a familiar witch. So much for his peaceful return home.

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yunsoh · 5 years

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some yukeru headcanons

- yuki’s first impression of kakeru was primarily annoyance, but also jealousy that he could just sleep wherever he wanted. god_i_wish_that_were_me.jpg

- kakeru doesn’t realize how much yuki actually sleeps until they live together and he just kind of passes out wherever, whenever. this makes for a lot of dual naps because kakeru has always been that bitch.

- granted, they don’t always nap together. most of the time they’ll pass out unprompted in completely separate rooms; they didn’t even know how in-sync they are until one of them is like “so what have you been up to” “sleeping” “what.....me too.........”

- (i mean, that’s love....... in-sync naps.........)

- kakeru tries getting him into rock music but yuki just isn’t about it. when kakeru asks what music yuki is into, he’s just like “none, i guess?” and kakeru cries a little.

- but then he makes yuki a lot of playlists of different genres to see what he likes, and all the ones yuki enjoys he saves to another playlist titled “yun-yun ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ has no taste :)” (but he likes listening to it bc it reminds him of yuki, ofc)

- when kakeru asks yuki on a date, yuki’s just kind of like “okay play it cool play it cool,” until they get to their destination and ayame is just. there. kakeru didn’t specify what kind of date it would be, but apparently it was of the “you and your brother need more bonding time” variety. kakeru and ayame are thrilled to see each other again. yuki wants to die the entire time.

- that said, yuki very seriously tells him to never do that again, and kakeru upholds that promise because serious yuki is scary. he does do his damnedest to get yuki to spend more (willing) time with ayame, though.

- it takes a long time for yuki to really tell kakeru why he’s not very close with ayame, which unravels a lot of discussion about his childhood. kakeru’s very gentle and patient with him during these moments, but he’s quick to pick yuki’s mood back up again because “a sad president is unacceptable”

- kakeru still calls yuki president after they’ve graduated. it’s more or less just a nickname. this confuses their college and post-college friends but it’s literally just second nature to them.

- when yuki starts visiting ayame on his own terms, or starts calling him first when he’s in a pinch/just wants to talk, kakeru brims with excitement. and then takes all the credit, at which yuki tells him not to get a big head. yuki’s often somewhat private about these talks, but kakeru hears about them all anyway from his daily ayame email update.

- sometimes kakeru just watches yuki garden from afar. something about watching how gentle yuki is with his plants makes him tender. yuki is almost completely oblivious to this, but got startled once because he turned around to find kakeru staring at him. it would have been romantic if kakeru didn’t literally look like that one scene in the office where michael is staring at ryan through the blinds.

- kakeru is more forward in regards to most things, but yuki was the one to kiss him first. kakeru is really flustered about it because he was “building up to it,” and yuki just kind of revels in the fact that kakeru was actually a little shy about something for once. after that, though, kakeru just whines that he wasn’t the one to do it first, and yuki is just like, “does it really matter??”

- actually the first time kakeru so much as kissed his cheek was back when they were still in high school, when kakeru was in ultra pining mode and yuki was none the wiser. it was done playfully (like, jump on yuki’s back and smack a giant kiss to his face playful), but yuki legit almost threw him to the ground lmao. boundaries, kakeru, boundaries.

- kakeru helps yuki with staying tidy, but learns that there are just some things that yuki is more comfortable with leaving messy. yuki’s kind of got his spots where he’s free to do whatever. (it’s not like kakeru’s the pinnacle of cleanliness either -- he’s mostly just attuned to cleaning up from helping machi.)

- yuki really likes kind of walking in on moments where kakeru is just naturally being quiet -- when he’s studying, or practicing guitar, or just kind of laying there with his headphones on enjoying himself. he tries not to interrupt these moments very often.

- also kakeru plays guitar idk. it seems like one of those hobbies he’d probably pick up. he tries wooing yuki with it sometimes, but it’s usually just to get out of doing something. “do we have to have lunch with my mom :(” “yes, we already told her we’re going, come on we’re going to be late.” “but what if i--” *strums guitar* “kakeru put that thing back from where it came from or so help me”

- they end up getting involved in a lot of projects together... kakeru’s the brute force and enthusiasm while yuki’s the brains. straight up they probably have a podcast where kakeru always starts with some cold open that blindsides yuki and ends up being their topic. they’re naturally funny together.

- neither of them really proposes to the other. marriage is kind of off-book for them for a little while because of their respective upbringings, but eventually they’re like “you know we’ve practically been married for like five years anyway let’s just do it.” everyone’s really happy for them, but a lot of them thought that they had gotten married a while ago and just didn’t say anything.

#fruits basket #yuki sohma #kakeru manabe #yukeru #anyways.......i love them #fruits basket spoilers #headcanons

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apparitionism · 5 years

Text

Mercury 12

Because I have the affinity I have, the only Warehouse 13 revival scenario I’d ever be interested in would be one involving Joanne Kelly and Jaime Murray sharing copious amounts of screen time. However: there’s a remake scenario discussed in this part that I might indeed pay cash money to see... anyway, Tumblr’s being weird again, so please be so kind as to visit my actual tumblr if you have an interest in the other parts of this little tale. Which I would also pay cash money to see.

Mercury 12

Having to go to the museum—having to do their actual jobs—was for Myka an anticlimax, post-pie. (She was trying very hard not to think about the implications of that.) She’d expected Pete to see it as a letdown, too, after the car massacre, because while the Sable hadn’t won, it was one of the last few vehicles managing to propel itself at the others, tires askew and engine asmoke. Myka had taken his continued investment in the proceedings as her opportunity to filch the remainder of his serving of pie. Helena had already handed hers over, wordlessly and unprompted. Myka hadn’t even had to look longingly at it. Okay, maybe once, but that was all it took.

But Pete clearly had not found the derby to be the pinnacle of the day’s excitement, and in the front seat of the rental, riding shotgun next to Myka as she followed Ida to the museum, he was extra-fidgety with anticipation at being in the sled-prop’s presence. The closer they got, the more his eagerness ratcheted up, which made Myka ask, “Do you think it’s affecting you?”

That got her the “duh” head-shake. “Well yeah. It’s Rosebud.”

“In a Warehouse-y way,” she clarified.

Pete squinched his face, the relaxed it. “Pretty sure I’d feel the same about something like... Peter Weller’s Robocop suit. Or Eastwood’s gun from Fistful of Dollars. You know, real movie stuff. I bet I’d pass out if I saw E.T. in person.”

Twilight was turning to real dark as they pulled into the deserted museum parking lot, right behind Ida, and the night hid them completely as Helena picked the lock on the “staff only” door—matter-of-factly, with a mutter of “why did they bother.” Then Ida led them past exhibits that purported to tell “The Wisconsin Story”—the whole story, starting with the deep geological past, and giving pride of place to what had been unearthed from that deep geological past: two looming fossil mammoths, which Pete was fortunately too Rosebud-focused to register, for their size was giving even Myka the shivers. They were impressively tusked, but with comparatively delicate ribs, too-long legs, and strangely structured foot-bones that gave them the improbable look of walking on dainty tiptoe.

Myka had not expected mammoths. Again, an educational trip.

The Wisconsin story stopped, apparently, with Orson Welles, for the gallery was designed to culminate in that exhibit. Their approach of the sled was uneventful, aside from Pete’s actual hyperventilating; if Rosebud did this to him, there was no way he would have survived E.T., much less stayed conscious. Myka made him breathe into a static bag—she appreciated that Helena managed not to laugh too much at the sight—and when he finally calmed down, he declared, “I refuse to steal it. Because we’ve got the mic, so who cares? What’s Rosebud gonna do all by itself?”

“I don’t think Artie’s going to find that a convincing argument,” Myka said.

“Who cares about that either? Spielberg outranks Artie. And the Regents.”

Myka looked at Helena. Helena shrugged a “your call, not mine” at her. So Myka shrugged back at her a “whatever,” because what was Artie going to do about it anyway? Get in a fistfight with Steven Spielberg? Pete would be thrilled at the very idea. He’d sell tickets. Sell tickets, then probably pass out when Spielberg showed up.

He was still talking: “So I’m not messing with his stuff other than to neutralize it real quick and put it back. Then we bounce.”

“Don’t say ‘bounce,’” Myka told him. “You sound ridiculous.”

“Claudia says bounce,” he said, with a little whine in his voice.

“You’re almost twice her age.” Though the evidence for that was limited...

Helena joined in with, “I’m nearly six times her age. What am I permitted to say?”

“What I wish we’d all say—and do—is ‘depart with our dignity intact,’” Myka said.

Helena pointed out, “As Pete and also Claudia enjoy reminding us, with regard to many things: ‘that ship has sailed.’”

She was right, but Myka scowled. “I don’t like you.”

“Be that as it may,” Helena said, offering one of her most saintly smiles, “but somewhat pursuant to the dignity point, you seem to be far more invested in key lime pie than I imagined possible.”

“And demo derbies!” Pete added.

“Leave me and my dignity—”

“Or lack thereof?” Helena asked, still saintly.

“—alone,” Myka finished. With as much aggrieved resignation as she could muster.

Ida, who’d been standing back from it all, particularly Pete’s hyperventilation, now said to Myka, “You did seem to enjoy both of those. Couldn’t that be good? Given your clear devotion to duty, it all speaks to your being a very complex leading lady.”

Myka opened her mouth to say “thank you,” but Pete preempted her with, “Less complex than you’d think. Myka World’s a pretty stripped-down place. No concession stands. Seat belts and helmets for all the rides, which there aren’t even a lot of anyhow, because they cost too much to insure, plus you gotta bring carnies in to run ’em, and I don’t think Myka trusts the carnies.”

“Also,” Myka noted, “I’m not an amusement park.” One beat. Two. She thought she might actually get away with—

“I beg to differ,” Helena said, and Myka sighed, in response to which, Helena placed a hand on Myka’s back, then rollercoastered that hand up and over Myka’s shoulder. In response to that, Myka frowned at Helena, to forestall any thoughts she might have had of continuing the journey somewhere inappropriate, and Helena brought the hand-car to an obvious, abrupt stop.

And in response to that, Ida laughed at them, and that made Myka chuckle too.

As Pete prepared to neutralize the sled, Helena offered to hold the microphone for him. Myka thought she was being ostentatious about needing something to do with her thwarted hand, but as soon as she had it, she began apologizing to it for having to take away its fun. “You liked being believed,” she murmured. “I understand. But we’re conveying you to a place where our very sensitive colleagues will locate you perfectly. You’ll feel quite at home. And one day we’ll steal your sledge friend and reunite the two of you, so—”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Pete warned.

“I might do it tomorrow morning before our flight leaves. I’m not afraid of filmmakers. Those Lumière brothers were utterly unintimidating. Perhaps this Spielberg is outsize, which would account for your trepidation?”

Pete didn’t object; instead, he nodded. “Way outsize, Hollywood-power-wise. Lotsa people quaking in their boots, I bet. And as for quaking in your boots, I also bet that if I went back in time to 1896, I’d see you diving under your chair to get away from the train headed for the camera courtesy of those Lumière brothers.”

Helena said, with what Myka hoped was mock venom, “If you went back in time to 1896, you would clearly dive under your chair—what with trains being as large as they are, and seemingly emerging from an outsize screen to flatten your comparatively undersized innocent spectating self.”

“Oh yeah? Well at least I’d know what a movie was.”

“Do not condescend to me!”

You love both of these five-year-olds, Myka reminded herself. Out loud, she said, “If we could maybe stick to the business at hand?”

“At hand!” Pete enthused. “Orson Welles touched this with his hand and so did Spielberg and now I’m about to too! We’re practically related now!”

“Why are you never this interested in actual history?” Helena groused.

“Oh, you mean antiques like you?” Pete retorted as he slid the sled into an extra-large static bag.

Five-year-olds, both of whom you love, Myka reminded herself again, but it didn’t matter anymore, because at that moment, Ida and everyone else got what anybody anywhere would have called a show, as a garish display of neutralization fireworks pinwheeled and rocketed outward from the bag, Roman-candling as if the sled had brought all of its show-business knowhow to bear on the situation and planned its execution of this moment.

Then: “Oh my god,” Myka said, because—

“I agree!” Ida rhapsodized.

But Myka wasn’t appreciating the pyrotechnics. No, she was realizing, viscerally, that she’d recently eaten the greater part of an insanely oversugared pie. Which was not nutritious at all. Which was in fact more sugar than she’d eaten at one sitting in... decades. Literally. She had to instruct her digestive system—her entire nervous system—not to panic. Not to rebel. “Oh my god,” she repeated. “Why did I eat that? I feel sick.”

“Interesting,” Helena said yet again.

“Please stop saying that. I don’t want to be interesting when you say it like that.”

“No, you don’t,” Helena affirmed, and Myka could make no sense of that at all.

Ida sighed. “Oh, but the rabbits. I didn’t expect this... disappointment.”

“Thought you’d sussed that out already,” Pete said. “What with no cleanup on aisle three.”

“I knew they couldn’t have been real. But apparently I still believed in them.”

Helena exhaled, audibly, before saying, “Belief does make its home in a stubborn part of the brain.”

“That doesn’t sound very science-y,” Pete said.

“It’s far older than science,” Helena told him.

“Just like you,” he jabbed, but it was halfhearted. “Yeah, okay. But just as well you didn’t, then, with the girlfriend. Think how much worse she’d feel right this minute.”

“What are a few hours of reprieve worth?” Helena asked.

Was that rhetorical? Myka answered anyway: “Less than nothing, if you don’t know they’re a reprieve while you’re in them.”

Helena’s gaze might have been about to harden into a glare, but Ida said, “Reprieves are usually short. So is life. Or it’s long, but it’s always, always more precious than we pretend. Isn’t it, H.G. Wells?”

Helena blinked—unaccompanied by a head-tilt, so not her I’m quite surprised blink, but a cousin. “You are observant,” she said.

“I don’t need a job,” Ida said. She looked at Myka, who muttered, “Retirement someday for everybody.”

Helena blinked again; again, it was a surprise-cousin. “Then I won’t offer you one. Will you accept thanks?”

“I will. And I’ll thank you back: it’s certainly held my interest, this show. With all its charming leads.”

Pete said, “You’re still my favorite. Even though I know Bering and Wells are your favorites.”

“Let me know when you get a love interest,” Ida advised. “Then we’ll see.”

He didn’t look at Helena, not even a glance; Myka was watching. “Will do,” he said. Of course his Helena-complicated past wasn’t fixed, just like Myka and Helena’s complicated-by-everything past wasn’t. None of that would ever be fixed. But it was better—it could be better—and Myka could see the difference, the better, there in his not-glance.

She said to Ida, “Thank you. For it all. Can you tell Mr. Leland a good story about where the microphone disappeared to? Make him believe it?”

“All he’ll care about is that Ginny’s pie won. What I really need to do is figure out what to tell Agnes. She’ll be so disappointed... not to mention confused.”

“Why wasn’t she there today, anyhow, ready to get crowned queen of the pies?” Pete asked.

“The rabbits gave her such a fright.”

“Tell her they ate her pie.”

Ida frowned at him. “First, won’t she have stopped believing in them? And second, rabbits don’t like citrus.”

“Ha!” Pete crowed. “Then they probably wouldn’t like preserves or conserves, would they!”

That got him a teacherly approving nod from Ida. “Very good. You can come back next year and be my assistant.”

“Look out,” Myka said. “He’ll take you up on it.”

“That would be fine,” said Ida. “In fact if you all wanted to come and do another episode next year, it would be fine. I could look forward to it. Like one of those reunion TV-movies.”

“These days they’d just remake the show, recast all the parts,” Pete told her.

She patted his shoulder. “I doubt even Meryl Streep could do justice to your appreciation for Rosebud.”

“The One Where They Go to the Fair! Starring Meryl Streep as Pete Lattimer!” he said, clearly delighted by the idea. “I mean, it’d take a Streep to really get a handle on the fullness of me.”

“Good luck, Meryl,” said Myka.

Helena said, “The Fullness of Pete Lattimer, A Play in Three Acts: Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner.”

“With snack entr’actes, right?” Myka asked.

Helena nodded, adding, “Plus midnight-snack envoi. Although that doesn’t really apply to a play, does it?”

Pete waved whoa-stop hands at her. “If it’s a snack, it better be part of that play. It’s a good scene for the TV-movie, though: Meryl, chowing down on S’mores Pop-Tarts in some night kitchen in South Dakota, remembering how sad she was when she said this line coming up right now.” He gathered himself theatrically, then gazed with mournful eyes at the sled. “Bye, Rosebud. You got mojo.” To Ida, he said, “I’m pretty sure you do too. We really could put in a word about a job.”

“Happily retired,” Ida said.

“Just as well. I’ve said it before, people doing what we do, they end up crazy, evil, or dead.”

“Is that an effective recruiting slogan?”

“Only if you’re Ms. Trifecta here,” Pete said, tilting his head at Helena. “She heard that and was all, ‘Sign me up!’”

“Quit it,” Myka told him, but milder than she might have said it, even two days ago. She took Helena’s hand again, though, to make sure she knew Myka meant it, no matter how mild. Helena rewarded her with an even more bone-cutting clasp than usual.

“Sane, good, and alive, that’s what you all seem to be right now,” Ida said. “Please keep it that way.”

They all hugged her goodbye. “I’m not a hugger,” she protested before each hug—but before each one, she again wore that wide smile.

“I’m not either,” Myka told her.

“I am!” exclaimed Pete, accurately.

“But human contact,” Helena said, like an apology, though Myka heard in it the echo of deprivation. And that was accurate too.

Ida seemed to agree, for she held onto Helena a second longer than she had Myka or Pete. “I told you I’m not a science fiction fan, and that’s true. But I liked Ann Veronica very much,” she said. “Particularly the ending.”

“Nobody got the flu,” Myka agreed.

“That was...” Helena cleared her throat. “Someone else’s work. Entirely.”

Ida said, “Someone else believed in happy endings. Entirely?”

“I suppose he did. I remember that. I remember arguing about sentimentality.”

“It’s important to remember what you do remember. What you said about that radio interview... I don’t have a recording of my late husband’s voice. I’ve thought about that more than I expected to.”

Helena’s voice, Myka thought, I didn’t—still don’t—have it anywhere but in my head. It was a new thought, one that chilled her. If Pete had smashed the coin, then Emily Lake’s voice forever. It made her want to record Helena’s voice right that minute: Helena saying “good morning,” Helena reading aloud the placard in front of the Welles exhibit, Helena reciting “The Owl and the Pussycat”... anything at all. She suspected Ida would have said the same thing about her husband’s voice, given the opportunity, and as for what that suggested about how all-in she herself was with Helena? It shouldn’t have come as any surprise, and it didn’t. But the force of it did.

Helena hugged Ida once more, and this time, she was the one who clung an extra second. “Happy endings,” Myka heard Ida say: her closing argument. Helena nodded against her shoulder.

Yes, in more ways than Myka would have thought possible: a very educational trip.

TBC

Note about the real world: as far as I can determine, if there actually were, or actually had been, a Welles exhibit at the museum in question, it would probably be, or have been, on the second floor, but I wanted to get the mammoths in there, so I let everybody stay on the first floor. Mammoth fossils are honestly bonkers to look at; the tusks are unbelievably large compared to the rest of the body (I know they had a lot of flesh and particularly fur, hence “woolly,” but still). And the feet! They’re fossilized comedy routines.

Also I suppose I should apologize, or something, for stringing this thing out with shorter parts rather than ending it with a longer, solid punch of denouement, but this is how the writing has proceeded, and one pleasant aspect of this write-for-free-on-the-internet hobby is that the work can find the form it seems to prefer. Within reason.

#bering and wells #Warehouse 13 #fanfic #Mercury #part 12

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tsukidrama · 2 years

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hi!!

yes the new format is way better! scrolling back and forth was a bit annoying so it's good like that 😊

you're right about onyankopon, he just has less fans and the reasons why aren't really surprising in the anime fandom tbh but he really is a good person, and he and hange make such a good duo!!

okay okay good!! no more scrolling and struggling to remember what's being replied to!

exactly yes!! i also love the fact that Levi and Onyankopon end up still spending time together in the flash forward. i've seen some really sad shit about how they bond because it's all they have left of Hange and it kills my soul on the inside.

omg i love brooklyn nine nine!! i think i missed the reference because i watched the show in dub in my language though, but this was a very funny quote. i forgot to ask but in different chapters in the fic you also make references to some books but i really suck at guessing them, would you mind sharing the book titles?

makes sense! it's such an iconic show 🥺 i think the ending did it justice & i've been trying to get my mom to watch it. Annie and Papa both kind of remind me of Holt in their humor, lmao. Papa would refer to the pets at "Donut the cat" etc and even the way he talks and acts, OMG LIKE THE EPISODE ABOUT WHEN HOLT PLAYED WITH MODEL TRAINS AS A KID — PAPA.

sure! they aren't essential to the plot so i intentionally leave it kinda vague, idk i just don't want to take away from the focus of the story. in COTMC (ch 5) the trilogy of books reader brings out in the barn with her is supposed to be lord of the rings, although that one isn't really significant. no wonder reader couldn't focus, that shit is so long and wordy 😫

in chapter 3, where it talks extensively about the books, those ones are a lot more significant about the two brothers and the evil woman is john steinbeck's east of eden. Annie's childhood favorite (and one of my own favorites from high school) about the axe murderer and redemption, is fyodor dostoevsky's crime and punishment.

tbh i only trust you to fix papa's character lmao

lol. me too...

hehe i'm kinda happy i guessed stuff about the plot 😌 i'm more invested in your fic than in some mangas and books i'm reading right now alskzkz and thinking about next chapter + reiner and pieck is making me ever more excited to read it!! i'm curious to how you write pieck too! she's one of my favourites. and even more curious about chapter 8 because i saw the other ask (which was so nice and interesting to read, i love reading what other people think about the fic too!!) and now i'm a bit scared lmao. by the way do you already have a certain amount of chapters planned?

oh my god WHAt, that's genuinely such a compliment! ahshwkdkel i've been out here writing this shit entirely for myself. i mean i knew people read it and enjoyed it but it's different to hear somebody say that they're genuinely invested in the plot like this?? imsjnahls does that even make sense?? aah i put a stupid amount of effort into this series so thank you soooo much.

i don't want to share TOO much! this is where i get myself into a bit of a conundrum because i totally want to tell you, but i don't want to post it on main yknow?? i will tell you that Pieck and Reiner get very concerned about Annie. they'll show up unprompted trying to check on her, and she basically beats them away with a stick since all she wants is to get some god damn peace and quiet.

i haven't decided the exact number but it'll be somewhere around 20-22 chapters depending on how it all unfolds. i have up until about chapter 10 very well planned out and just loose outlines for the rest.

kinda oversharing rn but i made one of my friends watch first season of aot for the first time and annie quickly became one of her favourite characters and she doesn't even know her whole story yet. i'm very proud to spread the annie agenda lmao

YYYYYEEEESSSSS!!!! i just know that whenever she watched you were right there talking about and hyping up our girl like:

jhfhalk.ehjevi i know i do!! good for you. you're out there doing the good work. now just casually steer her away from the shitty parts of the fandom.

i hope you have a nice day!! - j

you too! have a great Sunday and a good week.

#j anon #tsuki answers #annie-isms #trnt annie #cottagecanon #snk

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if-only-angels-could-prevail · 7 years

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here’s my LONG ASS POST where i talk about my favorite movies of the year!* i included 11 favorites, 6 alternate choices, a list of my favorite performances, and a list of my favorite music in these movies.

*in this case, “year” means “awards season”

THE BEST ONES (11 picks because I couldn’t narrow it down to 10)

20th Century Women

After Mike Mills’ masterful ode to fatherhood in Beginners (a movie that changed my life as much as any movie ever has), he matches his predecessor and then some with 20th Century Women. This is a brilliant, moving, and funny rumination on womanhood and motherhood, on what it means to be a woman, and even an examination of what feminism means in America’s constantly-changing cultural landscape. Partly based on Mike Mills’ own childhood, he described the movie as a love letter to the women who raised him, and the affection and honesty is on full display. It examines three very different women, played by three wonderful actresses, and their effect on the adolescent Jamie, Mills’ own self-insert. It’s timely, political, charming, and full of stunningly relevant dialogue about gender conformity and what it entails. This is a movie about womanhood, for everyone.

American Honey

This is a movie best described by contradictions. It’s intimate and it’s epic, it’s dreamlike and it’s realistic, it’s devastating and emotionally fulfilling. There is very little story to speak of--Star is an 18-year-old woman who joins a ragtag group of young people who sell magazines across the country. The whole movie is meandering, but Andrea Arnold (a brilliant director, also check out Fish Tank) fills this simplistic storyline with so many quiet observations and confrontations that by the end, one feels both completely full and all the more curious. It is contemporary filmmaking at its most poetic and immediate.

Arrival

This is a movie that will leave (or rather, has left) everyone talking, which is exactly my type of science fiction. It’s a quiet testament to critical thought and language, and how thrilling it can be. My only quibble is that as wonderful as Amy Adams was (and she really was pitch-perfect), I think I might have enjoyed it more with unknown faces playing these characters. But that’s not the point. The point is there was one single moment--literally down to the very second--immediately before the end credits rolled when the entire movie clicked for me, and I was overjoyed. Such moments are extremely rare in film, and I can only hope other audiences experience (or did experience) the same ecstatic epiphany that I did in that final moment.

The Handmaiden

A Korean gothic lesbian revenge story. I was sold as soon as I heard the description. This movie reminded me of all the most exciting plot-twisty mind-bending Hollywood creations (Gone Girl came to mind a lot), but the thrills were propelled even further by the sheer visual panache and gorgeous design work that are sometimes lacking in said genre. The acting was extraordinary as well. Another movie that’s probably best knowing very little about before you see it. It’s thrilling, violent, beautiful, and passionate storytelling.

Hell or High Water

I’m slightly biased because I love the idea of the contemporary western (True Grit and The Homesman are two of my recent favorites), and this is a prime example of old-fashioned western filmmaking with a strong contemporary sensibility. Like 20th Century Women, it seems to exist in multiple generations, and even as the characters talk about something completely unrelated, I was acutely aware of the divide, of the fascinating visual contradictions. To me, this cultural conversation was the underlying force behind the way this old-hat story was told. But don’t get me wrong: this is a pitch-perfect screenplay, possibly the best of the year. And the cast is insanely good.

Hidden Figures

I wanted to stand up and cheer at multiple points. I teared up during at least five different scenes. This is Hollywood filmmaking at its most shamelessly crowd-pleasing, and I ate it all up. I think when you have a story as worth telling as this one, a little crowd-pleasing is earned. It’s entertaining from beginning to end, and its cultural imprint (highest-grossing of all the best picture Oscar nominees) will be empowering from years to come.

Jackie

The best biopics are about more than one person. The best biopics both relate someone’s story with accuracy and use their story to confront the audience with their own selves. This is exactly what Jackie does: it’s an unsettling movie that gets under your skin, asking questions about celebrity, about luxury, about culture, about womanhood, all the while offering a stunning character portrait of one woman. This isn’t just a history lesson: this is a confrontational masterpiece, using this figurehead as a lens to examine our own selves. Jackie Kennedy passed away when I was less than a year old, but by the end of this movie, I felt like I knew her, and I felt like I knew myself better than I had before.

Lemonade

Beyonce casually reinventing the movie musical genre. Lemonade celebrates black femininity in a revelatory and empowering way. And yet, speaking as a white boy, it can be adored by anyone with an appreciation for aesthetic beauty, and anyone who loves music. (Seriously. Amazing music.) Like some other movies on this list, the narrative is thin, but it’s thematically tight, gripping, and always exuberant to watch. It will move anyone who’s struggled through an adult relationship, and even those who haven’t will feel privileged to watch this raw and emotionally naked portrait. It also proves that movie musicals need not be nostalgic fluff pieces (*cough*)--they can be current, they can be iconic, they can be culturally relevant, they can be hot-blooded, angry, sensitive, thrilling, poetic, feminist, and last but not least, unapologetically and exuberantly black.

Miss Sloane

I’m biased because I love Jessica Chastain. But his movie delivered. It’s about a fast-talking political lobbyist and how she navigates the political sphere, confronting her coworkers, her enemies, the law, and (most significantly) her own conscience. Its conversations are timely, as one would expect. But I found it most interesting as a contemporary morality play. Like Jackie, Miss Sloane is a character study which isn’t content being a mere character study--it confronts the audience on well-worn but ever-timely questions of how we define morality, happiness, and success. Some of the dialogue comes across as cheesy faux-Aaron Sorkin, which has drawn some criticism. The critics are right, but I ate it all up. This movie is more entertaining than any movie about a political lobbyist has any right to be, and even when it veers toward the unbelievable, it’s an awesome ride.

Moonlight

If I keep going back to the phrase “visual poetry,” it’s because this year in movies was an embarrassment of riches in that regard, Moonlight being a prime example. Every shot, every frame, felt so vital, deliberate, and beautiful. Moonlight is many things--a careful rumination on masculinity, a testament to parenthood, an artfully-crafted coming-of-age movie--but above all else, it’s a love story. A black gay love story, told with sincerity and a lot of heart. Quietly groundbreaking and cathartic.

Silence

Is it too bold to suggest this could be Scorsese’s masterpiece? It’s certainly among his most ambitious. And it’s painstakingly crafted, and dramatically tight. Andrew Garfield and Adam Driver (both acting up a storm) play 17th-century Jesuit priests who experience extended religious oppression in their efforts to spread Christianity throughout Japan. I know that sounds boring. But Silence is a force of nature, jaw-droppingly epic in scope. And yet for all its hugeness, for all its passion and melodrama, there is a stinging intimacy throughout that keeps one caring for these characters as if they’re longtime friends or brothers. And like every good period drama, it feels achingly contemporary, and the story feels heartbreakingly current. It’s a behemoth of a movie that my own paltry superlatives can hardly scratch the surface of, but trust me: it’s incredible.

ALTERNATES

Allied

Great old-fashioned filmmaking without pandering to nostalgia. It’s an extremely handsome movie, and it’s dramatically taut, but the story still manages to defy your expectations at every turn. Brad Pitt and Marion Cotillard are wonderful movie stars, perfectly cast in this old-fashioned yarn. I wish it had managed to find more of an audience, because it’s top-tier Hollywood storytelling.

Fences

Fences is indisputably a great play, so even a version that feels like a self-conscious adaptation is still going to be awfully good. Viola Davis is perfect, as we all know. Denzel Washington's performance felt too big for my taste, as if he didn’t do much in terms of translating his performance from stage to film, but obviously he’s a wonderful actor and charismatic as hell. Since not everyone can see Fences onstage, this movie is a damn good substitute.

Hail, Caesar!

The Coen brothers are likely my favorite movie directors working today--their last three movies in particular have all been extraordinary (A Serious Man, True Grit, Inside Llewyn Davis). Hail, Caesar! seems like an unusual next step for them, going back to some of their zanier antics, with a loving tribute to old Hollywood. But this isn’t cheap nostalgia--this is a deliciously original story, full of wacky surprises, a LOT of kooky characters, and some completely unexpected gags. It’s pure entertainment, if you’re buckled up for a lot of weirdness.

The Jungle Book

Another “pure entertainment” entry. I was awed by this live-action remake of the Disney classic. The artistry in the CGI was mind-blowing, and it had such an awesome power on the big screen. The classic story was told with care and economy, but the design and visual beauty was the main draw. And I always support unprompted musical numbers in non-musical movies.

Kubo and the Two Strings

Beautiful, beautiful designs, and a wonderfully original and twisty story. In retrospect, I wasn’t sold on all the plot elements, and the mostly-white cast playing Japanese characters seemed indelicate for several reasons. But it was visually stunning, the music was gorgeous, and the story was laudably original and full of imagination.

The Lobster

What makes dystopian stories so appealing is they offer the audience a lens to look at their own society through a foreign and fictional concept. The Lobster is a great example, offering a look at society’s expectations for how we treat romance and sex. The script starts to verge toward too much concept at points, but I found it compensated for its heavy plot turns with a treasure trove of wry observations. The acting and the execution is good, but in this instance, the script is the main draw, and one that left me thinking long after I had finished.

INDIVIDUAL PERFORMANCES I LOVED

Annette Bening and Greta Gerwig in 20th Century Women

Amy Adams in Arrival and Nocturnal Animals (despite my quibble about casting movie stars in Arrival, she delivered a brilliant performance)

Viola Davis in Fences

Kim Min-hee and Kim Tae-ri in The Handmaiden

The always-brilliant Jeff Bridges in Hell or High Water

The entire cast of Hidden Figures

Natalie Portman in Jackie

Beyonce in Lemonade

Joel Edgerton and Ruth Negga in Loving

Michelle Williams in Manchester By The Sea

Jessica Chastain in Miss Sloane

Ashton Sanders, Andre Holland, Jharrel Jerome, Naomie Harris, and Mahershala Ali in Moonlight

Nathan Lane in No Pay, Nudity

Andrew Garfield in Silence

Paul Dano in Swiss Army Man

MUSIC I LOVED

Hail, Caesar!

Hidden Figures

Jackie

The Jungle Book

Kubo and the Two Strings

La La Land

Lemonade

Moana

Moonlight

Silence

Swiss Army Man

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