any pronouns, 19, currently obsessed with Suits (TV), formerly obsessed with The Witcher (I have a whole other blog for that!), avid(ish) plant parent, fiber arts fan, ao3 enjoyer, and a sucker for pretty things my TWN specific blog is @jaski----over-there
Cinderella goes to the ball but she can't stop seeing all of the servants, and the massive palace that *somebody* has to clean, and all the food that *somebody* has to cook (not too mention all the carriages and horses and what have you that also need maintenance)
I push through the doors into blessedly cool night.
"You lost, sweetheart?" comes a voice behind me.
I whirl to see a figure in the shadows. An ember lights up, but the puff of smoke smells nothing like the cigarettes my stepsisters sneak sometimes. It's... somehow foul and cloying all at once.
"I think I might be," I admit.
The figure steps out of the shadows, a footman wasting time while his master enjoys the party.
"Are all balls like this?" I ask, grateful for the prospect of a conversation with someone who isn't a simpering backstabbing noble.
"Somethin' like that," the voice replies.
In the moonlight I realize it's not a man, but a woman, dressed in men's clothing. Her eyes sweep over my dress and those awful shoes, my perfect makeup and hair. Her eyes catch on my hands, chipped nails and calluses that no magic could hide.
She offers me the cigarette.
"What's your story?" she asks. "Steal your mistress's gown and sneak off to the party?"
My response is somewhat delayed as I cough and hack the awful smoke that I've inhaled too much of. My suffering is met with a snicker, a rough sound so unlike the tittering girls inside vying for the attention of the prince.
It's a sound that fills me with a curious warmth to accompany the light airy feeling rising in my head.
"Would you believe me if I told you a demon wrapped an illusion around me?" I ask. "And that I have until midnight to find my one true love before the spell is broken?"
"I'd probably say you're full of shit," she replies.
One more puff and the little glowing ember is flicked to the flagstones. I watch on fascination as she grinds it into oblivion under her heel.
Then she offers me her arm... as if she wants to take a turn around the estate gardens.
But we're not in the garden, this is a horse yard.
She's watching me with a bemused expression, one eyebrow hiked up towards slicked back hair that barely hangs past her ears.
Sure... why the hell not?
I take her arm graciously, wondering why the world has gone so fuzzy.
"It's true, you know?" I say, whatever was in that smoke has loosened my tongue.
"Hm?"
"I befriended a demon. A little one. Got caught in a rat trap in the basement and I nursed it back to health. In exchange it wrapped me up in an enchantment to make me look like..."
I gesture at myself with my free hand. My companion is still looking skeptical.
"Let me guess," she muses. "You're also secretly a princess."
"Heiress," I reply. "Or I was until my father died and my stepmother took everything and made me a servant. Not that there was much to begin with..."
"And your demon sends you to the ball to... what? Dance with the prince? Fall in love and have your story book ending?"
"I don't think the real world works that way," I reply sullenly.
We step out of the horse yard into a garden. Not one of the perfectly manicured ones meant for romantic strolls, but a crowded herb garden, utilitarian and hidden away.
"What was I thinking coming here?" I ask as I brush my hands through the rosemary. "I thought... I don't know. I thought things would be different outside of the house, but it's more of the same... just bigger than I thought it was."
My thoughts drift to all of the servants drifting around the ballroom. And all of the maids and cooks that wouldn't be seen, but toiled away nonetheless.
"Yeah, shit's fucked," my companion says.
"I wish things could be different."
"Yeah, well, in my experience, wishing is less than worthless if you aren't willing to do anything about it."
I turn that over in my head.
"Indigo," my companion says.
"Huh?"
"My name," she says. "But my friends call me Indy."
"Are we friends?" I ask.
She makes that rough laugh again my heart starts racing at the sound of it.
"I don't know, you tell me," she replies with her sideways grin.
"I wouldn't know," I tell her. "I've only ever had one friend before."
"Your demon?"
I nod.
***
"Rabbit!" I hiss into the gloom.
I can barely keep my voice down from excitement.
My conversation with Indigo lasted well past midnight and my head is so full of thoughts I feel as though I am about to burst.
The little demon pokes its head up from it's pillow. Its hare's face regards the two of us with narrowed eyes.
I once asked it its name and it politely informed me that it's true name was unpronounceable my human tongues. So I had settled for just calling it Rabbit.
"When I sent you off to find true love, I expected something somewhat different," it says, eying Indigo. "Can't say I'm particularly surprised though."
My train of thought falters. What...? I cast a glance at Indigo, who's biting her lip in amusement.
"She's not... I mean... we didn't..." I stammer. "We had one conversation. That's hardly the basis for any kind of relationship."
"Mhmm."
"You know," Indigo says before I can respond, "I expected it to be bigger."
Rabbit huffs and sits up on its hind legs, raising itself up to full height, but even with its antlers, it barely tops two feet.
"Rabbit!" I say, regaining my footing. "We need your help."
It fixes me in its eye again.
"And what help can this minor demon offer you? Remember that magic comes at a cost."
"You told me once that demons are creatures of entropy," I say cautiously, saying the words I've been turning over in my head during the entire ride back her. "You feed on transformation and change?"
I have Rabbit's full attention now.
"What manner of change?" it asks cautiously, almost hungrily.
I suck in a breath and let the air carry the word through my throat and past my lips before cowardice can hold me back.
Fic where on an earlier anniversary of Adamson’s death robby tries to distract himself with a hookup. It doesn’t work, and he actually ends up feeling worse after, crying himself to sleep.
When he wakes back up later in the night, he feels like such a piece of shit, probably ruined the kids night, he’s so fucking embarrassed and ashamed and so fucking sad that he plans on staying in bed for the foreseeable future. That is until he hears a noise coming from downstairs.
Fan-fucking-tastic. I’m being robbed.
He might as well stay here and let his shit be taken, but then he’ll have to face Jack and Dana and buying new shit, so he lets out a world weary sigh and hauls his ass out of bed.
He doesn’t bother grabbing anything to defend himself, whats the fucking point, and makes his way down. He follows the noise through the hall and the living room, looking around and not noticing anything of worth missing. Actually, the place looks cleaner than it did this morning. What the fuck kinda burglar is this?
He finally finds the robber in the kitchen, and just freezes at what he sees. The guy - Danny? No, Denny - is puttering around the kitchen in just his underwear and an apron (where the fuck did he find that?), dancing as he loads the dishwasher, headphones in and oblivious to the world around him. Now that he’s not preparing for an impending attack, Robby can smell that something is cooking in the oven. Who the fuck is this guy?
Denny turns around and nearly reaches the ceiling when he sees Robby standing there, also in just his underwear.
“What the hell are you doing kid?”
And Denny has the gall to get shy, “Just- I just thought I could do something. Help you out while you slept. I thought you’d be out for longer. You seemed like you needed the sleep.”
And, fucking shit this kid was sweet, shifting in place and looking down, as if his attempt at kindness - at pulling Robby out of this hole - was something deserving of reprimand or punishment.
Robby jutted his chin towards the oven, “what’re you cooking?”
And, fuck, the kid lit up, now knowing he wasn’t gonna get, what, abused? Yelled at? He darted over to the oven, pulling out his creation - Robby had no idea how the fuck he managed to make anything with the shit he had here - and presenting it to him, “it’s just a casserole. I was planning to be long gone by the time you woke up, so wanted to make something that you could reheat and keep for a while.” And Robby could only stare at him for a moment, just struck with wonder at this man in front of him. He stared long enough that Dennis flushed again, “oh- but if- it’s okay if you don’t want- it’s no big deal-“
“Do you want to have dinner with me?”
It was stupid, probably a dumb move. It was, what, 1 am?, he probably had places to be and Robby had to get back to sleep sooner rather than later.
But Denny’s shoulders relaxed, and a soft smile grew on his face, “Dinner would be lovely.”
Do you think there was ever a point when Whitaker was interrupting her during a movie or tv show that Trinity just looked over and thought fuck?
Because now she had a new best friend. Someone who she had inside jokes with, someone that slept in the same apartment as her that she had started to sleep with her door unlocked around?
And she’d never admit it, but she had been so lonely before (so lonely she had become kind in it). lonely enough to let in a man after knowing him only during one of the top 10 worst days of her life.
Meanwhile Dennis probably has no fucking clue this revelation is happening and just pauses the TV to ask what the muppets were again.
“Oh my god, I actually don’t know how to explain it to you again.”
“I’m sorry that I didn’t grow up with a tv.”
And she’d just laugh but at the same time try to blink away the tears from her eyes without him seeing.
Would love to see a fic or scene in the actual show where dennis has a moment (bigger moment than killing a rat) of strength that no one expects! Just would love to get people's reactions (specifically trinity in a "sibling how the fuck did you do that" way and robby in a gay way)
Every time someone reblogs a post of mine but doesnt keep the funny tags that i worked so hard on i get really excited (yay reblog) and a little sad (the tags i thought were funny 😔)
Dennis’s phone starts ringing but he’s arms deep in a patient’s chest cavity so he asks Trinity who’s calling. The other doctors and nurses are confused as to how she would know, but they watch as she just casually reaches into his scrubs pocket and grabs his phone. She grunts and says it’s his mom and that she’ll decline it for him, for which Dennis nods appreciatively. She puts his phone back in his pocket and announces that she’s going to swap gloves and rescrub in since hers are contaminated. she chuckles as she says that and gently bumps Dennis’s shoulder as she walks out. Dennis just smiles softly and continues working on the patient.
Another time, Perlah and Princess watch as Dennis walks by Trinity as she’s holding a pile of charts. He stops by her and quickly asks if he can borrow a pen; he doesn’t know where he put his. She rolls her eyes and angles her torso toward him, puffing out her chest. Dennis deftly grabs a pen out of her scrub top pocket with a “Thanks I owe you” and walks away.
They’re sitting next to each other trying to catch up on their charts for the day so they can go home and watch the newest episode of Love Island. In between them is a single Monster can and a bag of chips. Every now and then, Trinity will say “chip me” and Dennis will grab a chip and hold it up to her mouth for her to bite. She reasons that she doesn’t want her fingers to get dirty.
Dennis is sitting at Robby’s workstation (of course) and is staring at the screen. He mumbles something about a patients lab results not making sense and looks up at Trinity, who is standing nearby at the Hub talking to Victoria. He calls her over to read the chart and, instead of rolling his chair over to make room, he stays where he is as Trinity leans over him and rests her chin on his head while she shoves her hands in her pockets. “Huh, yeah..that does look a little weird”
Trinity is standing at one of the computer stations typing up a patient’s chart when Dennis walks up to her. He says that he needs her wallet to grab a doordash gift card he put in there the other day; he wants to order lunch while the caseloads are light (he didn’t use the Q word, don’t worry). She simply nods and mumbles, “Okay, yeah sure. You know where it’s at.” while she continues to type. He gives a small smile before reaching into her scrub pants pocket to grab it. He opens her wallet and pulls out the gift card, folds the wallet, and puts it back into her pocket. Trinity hums without looking away from the computer screen, and Dennis walks away.
A grateful patient orders several boxes of pizza for the day shift and gets them delivered to the ED. Staff rush into the break room to grab a slice. Dennis manages to grab a plate and begins to pile up slices. Donnie looks over and teases, “Dang Whitaker, you hungry or what?” Before Dennis can respond, Trinity walks in and exhales, “Ugh, God bless you, Huckleberry” as she grabs a slice from the plate and takes a huge bite. She glances outside the door and scans the hallway before grabbing Dennis by the shirt collar to lead him to an empty work station. He doesn’t put up a fight at she drags him out of the break room. Once they stop at the work station, he puts the plate between them and they begin eating the pizza and talking quietly to each other.
I'm sorry the irony of robby warning whitaker that boundaries are important when it comes to amy and then immediately asking him to live at his house for three months in insane
…..not even six hours later i got an offer of a well paying full time long-term job with free room and board in queens in nyc, allowing me independence and a way to escape an abusive situation and an unhealthy environment
likes charge reblogs cast, folks, this is the good luck post
the last time I reblogged this post right before I got a great job, in a permanent work-from-home position, with benefits, retirement, and a salary literally 3x what I was making before, doing something I really like.
There's a lot of commentary about the pitt, particularly post-season 2, that claim people are unwilling to discuss or acknowledge the 'uglier' themes of the show. And I’m curious about the lens with which people view these discussion to be making those claims.
To be absolutely clear, I have no issues with the existence of feminist critique, anti-racist critique, or discussions of misogyny around the show. I think those conversations are valuable. More than valuable, really - they're necessary. Media doesn't exist in a vacuum, and neither do audiences. People bring their experiences, identities, and histories with them when they consume any form of media, and it would be absurd to suggest that racism, sexism, misogyny, class, and institutional bias aren't worth talking about.
What I find myself pushing back against is something slightly different. Because, increasingly, it feels like some conversations have stopped asking questions and started assuming answers. And I think that's an important distinction. There's a difference between asking "could misogyny be shaping this dynamic?", and beginning from the premise that misogyny already is the answer, and that disagreement with that conclusion represents an unwillingness to engage seriously with the material. Likewise, there's a difference between saying, "I think season 2 marginalised Samira in ways that I find troubling", and saying, "season 2's fundamental problem is racism and misogyny".
Those aren't the same claim. And I think the latter requires a degree of certainty that I'm not sure the text itself supports. Because one thing I find myself returning to over and over is that many of the ideas which have become central to certain corners of the fandom are, in my view, beautiful interpretations. But they still read like interpretations.
Samira as Robby's younger self. Samira as his true heir. Robby projecting his self-loathing onto her. His inability to articulate his admiration of her. Her craving his approval. Their relationship being simultaneously loving, toxic, and professionally harmful. His impossible expectations of her stemming from his belief in her exceptional potential.
These are all compelling readings, truly. But I don't think they're all canonical truths. Fandom does this all the time. We all do. We find threads; we connect dots; we construct emotional throughlines; we invest in possibilities. That's part of the joy of engaging deeply with fiction. But I think problems emerge when interpretations slowly become treated as facts.
"I think this relationship is central to the show" becomes "This relationship is clearly the emotional core" which becomes "The writers abandoned their own story" which eventually becomes "The writers have revealed their misogyny".
And somewhere in that progression, what began as an interpretation becomes transformed into a moral accusation. I think that's what I've found difficult. Not criticism, not disappointment, not even anger. But the way in which creative disagreements sometimes become reframed as evidence of moral failure.
Because if season 2 failed Samira, that is a perfectly valid opinion (which I share). If someone believes her screentime was insufficient, or that her relationship with Robby lost complexity, or that the show devoted too much energy elsewhere, I think those are entirely legitimate criticisms.
But I don't know that disappointment itself proves misogyny. And I don't know that every uneven relationship or disparity between characters necessarily has the same explanation.
Take Whitaker, for example.
I've seen him increasingly reduced to the "mediocre white man who gets rewarded". And honestly, I find that reading sad. Not because he's beyond criticism - he's not - but because it seems to flatten him into a symbol. His working-class background; his upbringing in rural Nebraska; his homelessness; his theology background; his anxiety; his mistakes; his growth; his deep empathy; his bonds with Robby and Santos; his willingness to meet people where they are; his evolution from terrified MS4 to confident R1. All of that disappears, and he becomes simply an embodiment of structural privilege.
Which, to me, feels oddly ironic, because a great deal of the discourse surrounding Samira rightly pushes back against flattening complex women of colour into symbols. Yet most of the criticism of Whitaker flattens him precisely the same way.
Likewise, Robby becomes 'latent misogyny'.
Dana becomes 'internalised misogyny'.
Gloria becomes 'the profit-obsessed Black woman'.
Al-Hashimi becomes evidence.
Collins becomes evidence.
Louie becomes evidence.
Joyce becomes evidence.
Everyone becomes evidence.
And eventually the characters stop feeling like people and start feeling like exhibits in a larger argument.
I also think some theories have become almost impossible to falsify.
If Robby criticises Samira, that confirms the reading.
If he praises Whitaker, that confirms the reading.
If he trusts Langdon, that confirms the reading.
If he doubts Al-Hashimi, that confirms the reading.
If Samira struggles, that confirms the reading.
If she excels, that confirms the reading.
If she receives little screentime, that confirms the reading.
If she receives more screentime, but isn't validated in the 'right' way, that confirms the reading.
And at some point, I start wondering what evidence would count against the theory. Because if there isn't any, then we're no longer using a framework to understand the text. We're using the text to reinforce the framework. And I'm not sure that's a partiuclarly healthy approach.
Perhaps most of all, though. I wonder whether some of the intensity surrounding season 2 comes from grief. Not grief over what happened in the show. But grief over the loss of the show people thought they were watching. Because I think many viewers fell in love with a version of the pitt where Samira was Robby's successor. Where their relationship was the emotional centre of the series. Where her philosophy of medicine would eventually be vindicated. Where his inability to express affection would slowly give way to recognition. Where he would finally acknowledge that she was extraordinary.
But I'm not convinced that 's the story the writers themselves thought they were telling. And I think season 2 exposed that gap. Not necessarily because the writers betrayed their own themes, but because audiences and writers were perhaps never imagining quite the same show. Which is disappointing, and disappointment is real. But I don't think disappointment automatically becomes proof of prejudice.
And I think that's where I ultimately land. Not that discussions of racism and misogyny should stop. Not that media criticism should be gentler. Not even that people should simply accept the show's decision.
But that accusations as serious as these deserve a degree of humility. Because the pitt is a show about imperfect people trying their absolute best in a failing system. People shaped by grief, ego, burnout, race, gender, class, trauma, hierarchy, and institutional pressures. None of these things operate in isolation. And I think our criticism should be willing to embrace that same complexity.
Because sometimes I read certain corners of the fandom and come away with the impression that racism and misogyny are not being treated as possibilities to be explored, but as conclusions from which all other explanations must flow.
And, I don't know… maybe that's where I part ways.
Not because I don't think those conversations are important. But because I think stories - and people - are usually more complicated than that. And I think complexity deserves the benefit of remaining complex.
Welcome to the 2026 Whumperless Whump Event, where we celebrate all kinds of situational, accidental and environmental whump! If this is your first time, welcome in--if you've been here before, thanks for coming back!
FAQ and text version under the cut!
Frequently Asked Questions:
Q: Where can I find the prompts list?
A: @whumperless-whump-event on Tumblr.
Q: How are the prompts divided?
A: Each day has a "title" or a vague theme, followed by two tropes and one dialogue prompt.
Q: Can I use the title as a prompt?
A: Absolutely.
Q: Do I have to use all of the prompts?
A: Not at all.
Q: Can I use all the prompts?
A: Absolutely.
Q: If I'm writing a chronological story, can I swap days to fit the timeline?
A: Yes, just make sure you tag your days and prompts appropriately. If you're writing for day 6, but you post it on day 12, tag day 6, not day 12.
Q: Can I have early or late entries?
A: Yes. This is a very laid back event, and meant mainly to inspire lots of whumperless whump. It's not a strict writing challenge.
Q: Is there an Ao3 collection?
A: Yes! This year's collection is linked here. The parent collection also includes 2024 and 2025--make sure you select 2026.
Q: Can I write [insert anything here]?
A: Yes. However, this blog will not reblog certain topics (ex. nsfw or suicide), so please tag your works appropriately, so anyone can filter out anything they don't want to see.
Q: Can I use AI?
A: No.
Q: Can a whumper be included in the prompt fill?
A: The short answer is no. The long answer is that you cannot have the role of whumper in your prompt fill (aka: no whumper-on-whumpee); however, if the character you want to be a whumpee or a caretaker happens to be a whumper, then as long as they are not fulfilling the role of whumper, it's fine. Also, if there is a whumper, it must be totally impersonal and faceless. Here are some examples for clarification:
A character's drink is spiked at a party.
OKAY: The whumper who spiked the drink is never mentioned and is completely faceless, and the story is directly about whumpee recovering.
NOT WHUMPERLESS: The whumper who spiked the drink kidnaps the whumpee.
A character is left alone in a storm.
OKAY: The character is stranded or lost.
NOT WHUMPERLESS: Whumper tied them to a post and left them in the storm.
A character is mugged on the street.
OKAY: The whumper is a stranger, faceless, and the focus is on Whumpee.
NOT WHUMPERLESS: The whumper is a stalker and there to kidnap Whumpee.
All in all, if your goal is to fulfill the event, then try to avoid a whumper. If you're using the prompts elsewhere, then ignore this, but in the spirit of the event, no whumper roles please.
Q: How do I tag my posts?
A: Tag with #whumperless whump event, #wwevent 2026 and #wwevent day [x](Don't just tag wwe, that's wresting.) Make sure to tag the fill type (art, fic, music, etc) with #fic, #art, #et cetera. Then, tag triggers and content warnings. Please put these first in the tag order! It just makes it easier to reblog.
Q: How do I get reblogged?
A: Mention this blog in your post! It's the easiest way for me to find you. Otherwise, I won't reblog it. (This also means if you do not want your post reblogged to the event, just don't mention the blog, and it'll stay private.)
Q: I disagree with something/have an issue with a prompt/want to address a problem. How should I do it?
A: Send me an ask and we can fix it. I am more than willing to work through any problems--I am human, and not without fault.
I think that's about it. That's a lot, so if you've got any other questions that aren't on the list, feel free to shoot me an ask. I'm happy to help!
Plain Text:
Like a Baby Seal to Water: Fishtailing / Near drowning / "I thought I was going to die."
Somebody's Gotta Do It: Unexpected caretaker / Touch starvation / "You don't have to hide from me."
A Lull in the Chaos: Bedside vigil / Checking vitals / "Can you… sing? Until I fall asleep?"
How Are You So Oblivious: Unknowingly feverish / Falling asleep at work / "Can you drink some water for me?"
Wilderness Experts: Poisoned / Caught in a trap / "I don't know where we are."
Down The Wrong Pipe: Choking / Seizures / "Call an ambulance, tell 'em they're not breathing."
Wrong Place, Wrong Time: Panic attack / Overstimulated / "Get me out of here."
Are You Sure This Is Normal: Natural disasters / Scared of thunder / "We're safe in here, okay? I think."
Dropping Like Flies: Multiple whumpees / Caretaking while sick or injured / "I'll get some rest soon, I promise."
A Warm Welcome: Coming home from the hospital / Cuddle piles / "You scared me so badly…"
Bodily Betrayal: Stomach sick / Carried to bed / "…Yeah. I can call in sick for you."
You Make Me Lose My Breath: Wheezing / Altitude sickness / "You're not making sense."
Waking In A Cold Sweat: Midnight hospital visit / Allergic reaction / "I thought you were getting better."
The Final Straw: Grief / Mental breakdown / "You don't need to be okay right now."
In the spirit of my crusade against "Robby always yells at women" as a false criticism, here's some actual feminist criticism. Patients and family members who reject science and believe in wellness influencer snake oil tend to be portrayed as women. In the first episode of season 2, a patient's wife pulls out multiple gallon ziploc bags filled with supplements. The patient doesn't say anything or really react much, but he's alert and the scene is played for comedy, implying his wife is overbearing and leaving it unclear whether he's really on board with the homeopathic prescriptions or just placating her. Santos openly characterizes the jaundice patient in season 2 episode 13 who overdosed on turmeric as stupid once they're out of the room. Back in season 1 the anti-mask patient who starts a fight in the waiting is a woman who later receives an epic clapback from Langdon. The measles patient's mom is the anti-vaxxer while the dad is show mostly going along with his overbearing wife, despite having reservations pretty early on. He's eventually the one who consents to the LP and in season 2 it's the just mom that's suing Ellis and Mel for malpractice. The pregnant woman in the season 2 finale who wanted a free birth and refused all prenatal care resists medical intervention right up to the point she crashes. The doctors are very kind and respectful to her, while trying to convince her the situation is serious and they need to act, but there's never a moment where she agrees. We're left to assume that when she wakes up she'll be glad they saved her and her baby's lives.
There's no mystery about why this happens. The stereotypical image of an anti-science alternative medicine follower is a woman. It's probably what of most of us picture when when we hear the word "crunchy" in this context. And yet the Secretary of Health and Human Services who is making this anti-science nonsense into federal policy is a man who was appointed by a the president, who is also a man. The anti-vaxx stereotype is the autism mom, with Jenny McCarthy as the face of it. Yet the false claim of a link between vaccines and autism was invented by a man, Andrew Wakefield, who committed scientific fraud for profit. This is obviously much larger than a TV show, it's a widespread association between anti-science, anti-medicine beliefs and women rooted in systemic sexism. But the Pitt is certainly perpetuating that stereotype and I doubt they're aware they're doing it. Noah Wyle has claimed credit for Langdon's epic clapback, but the other two writers credited for that episode are women. All of these episodes have at least one woman in the writing credits. There are a lot of women in the writers room, but this stereotype is a great example of sexism women unconsciously reinforce as much as men do. I don't think this makes any of these storylines less effective. I'm not relegating this show to Problematic status. I think there's academic and political value in analyzing it, but it's not an obligation in order to watch the show ethically. That shouldn't need to be said but this is the website that gave the world Your Fave Is Problematic, so.
Huge fan of when people give strong leftist critiques pf media without automatically characterizing that media as Bad and Unwatchable!!! Nuance is a super cool thing
My memory of The Birdcage (1996) is always that it's more dated and more difficult to watch than it actually is. You hear "drag-themed comedy from the 90s based on a musical from the 80s based on a play from the 70s" and you brace yourself just a little, right? But the film has a strong gay perspective, so the fruity fag jokes mostly come off as warmly affectionate. There is a surprising amount of poignancy in Robin Williams' portrayal of Armand, grudgingly agreeing to his beloved son's request that he go back into the closet for an evening ("do me a favor and don't talk to me for a while"). The drag club's staff attempting to redecorate the apartment with stuff straight people might like (a taxidermy moose head, an enormous crucifix, and Playboy magazine) is extremely funny. Albert's histrionics are a point of tension because he does often come off as a stereotypically pathetic/comic figure, but towards the end of the movie he makes it very clear that he's aware of how people see him, and asserts that trying to copy a stoic masculinity he doesn't possess for the sake of social approval would be more pathetic. In the 1983 musical adaptation, they give "Albert" (Albin) the only good song in the whole show, "I Am What I Am", which Gloria Gaynor covered to the delight of gays everywhere. Apparently Nathan Lane wasn't (publicly) out yet in 1996, which is amazing because it means that at one point in this movie you're watching a gay man playing a straight man playing a gay man playing a straight man, in a movie about how it's important to be yourself, an absurdity that does seem to encapsulate the state of gay America in the 90s.
here, queer, and trying my best @serioust-and-queeriest - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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