rant time I guess because I keep seeing more and more people pissing me off
This doesn’t only apply to Sam and Frodo, but it’s the example I’m going to use because I see it coming up the most. Call them platonic, call them romantic, but please stop shoving your opinions down other people’s throats. I’m going to share my own experience.
My grandfather loved lord of the rings so much because he interpreted a lot of those "deep platonic friendships" as being quite romantic. He grew up in the earlier half of the 20th century, in Germany especially, and he had a lot of really "troublesome" encounters with his close male friends (his words not mine) before meeting and marrying his wife.
Then he raised me, and when I read his copies of lord of the rings he told me to take care of them because those books were so important to him in adulthood (when they came out in the 50s) because he felt seen. not like it was such a disastrous thing to fall madly in love with your best friend and then grieve that relationship for decades. He really related to Sam, especially his relationship with Frodo, marrying Rosie, having to say goodbye, etc. I still remember being a younger teenager and seeing the movies in theaters when they came out, and seeing him crying in the seat next to mine because "Patrick, Patrick, they got the [insert tiny detail from book] right!"
Stop normalizing the erasure of queer literature just because characters “weren't intended to be written that way”. One of the beautiful things media can do is be interpreted in different ways by different people. by someone who always felt such grief over wanting to live his life differently than he was allowed to.
Not that anyone asked but writings gonna be a little slow. I was supposed to be getting a lot of writing done over spring break but that just ended and honestly I think I have writers block. Its not that I don't have any ideas, I'm working on 2 requests and pt.10 of Sex, Drugs, Ect. and I'm always thinking of things I can write but the thought of turning thoughts into words makes me want to rip my brain out. But yeah this is my little rant and announcement that I'm struggling a bit right now. Love y'all and I hope to get those requests done asap without hating myself.
Captain Underpants is worth more than its nostalgia factor.
Captain Underpants Spoiler Free Review
Captain Underpants: The Epic First Movie is genuinely funny by being lowbrow and crass, and with its childhood naivety is charming and heartwarming. It does its source material justice without necessitating any prior knowledge or experience of it.
Truth be told, there isn’t very much substance to it, but considering it is about two school children and their imaginary brief-clad super hero come to life, there’s very low expectations to begin with. Due to that what substance there is, is surprisingly and welcomingly deep; like a good puddle you can actually splash in.
This movie is about the human condition and it is about how we connect to each other. It’s about how we treat each other, how we choose to treat each other, and how we even treat ourselves; the overbearing fun killing Principal Krupp serves as a foil to the stalwart George Beard and Harold Hutchins; Professor Poopypants’ and Melvin Sneedly’s inability to make wholesome connections to other people due to their mistreatment by other people. There are lessons to be learned here, but are more or less glossed over which is rather unfortunate. The central focus is moreso on George and Harold’s relationship and the naivety of their everlasting yet fragile friendship.
The animation is top notch with several surprises of mixed media, homages to the source material, and off-key musical numbers make for a delightful viewing experience. One or two (clean) adult jokes add in some poignant and cynical humor that hit just a little too close to home to allow for some decent balance and contrast in the film; not everything can be lowbrow potty humor, but 99% of it can be.
Captain Underpants: The First Epic Movie is worth the watch. 4/5 stars.
Prior to seeing Bao earlier today I treated myself to the docudrama revolving around Mister (Reverend) Fred Rogers: Won’t You Be My Neighbour?
The movie is profound in the simplest of ways: Fred Rogers was very simply himself in every way, shape, and form, puppet or otherwise, on and off the television screen. There was nothing inherently new, unexpected, or scandalous. I learned more about the man leaving the film than entering, which is expected of a film of this type, and with greater respect for the late reverend.
That title of his was something that I learned from the film, but in retrospect, should not have been unexpected. The fact itself unsurprising in itself, but surprising to learn. His show, from what I had seen and recollect as a young child watching PBS at my babysitter’s house, never revolved around God or mentioned Jesus, and yet, at its very core, Mister Roger’s Neighborhood envelopes the most key of Christian teachings: Love thy neighbour. Agape.
The cast and crew share their own heartwarming experiences of working on the show while also reminiscing on some of the more painful memories that were shared with Fred. Francois Clemmons shares his experience of being a closeted gay man on the show, the pain he shared with Fred about having to be closeted for the sake of the show, Fred’s acceptance for who Francois was, and Francois’s love for Fred. But it wasn’t a sexual love. It was a strong and significant love that was shared between two friends: the kind of love that Fred Rogers wanted to grow between his audience, and that his audience should grow with the world. Philia.
The movie examines his personas in his puppets, namely Daniel Striped Tiger, and King Friday XIII. It discusses his underlying anxieties and self-doubt and frustrations as a person, all feelings which shouldn’t be unsurprising for any man to have, Mister Rogers included. It might be hard to imagine a man like Mister Rogers feeling those ways at all, and yet it’s not: because he was so open about it on the show in teaching children how to approach these issues and that it’s okay to feel these feelings; he wanted to teach that these feelings are acceptable. That you can love yourself, just the way you are. Philautia.
The film does bring up some of the critiques that this latter kind of love instigates. That each child is special, but if every child is special, no one is special; how a person can be special without doing anything to earn it. But Mister Rogers reaffirms that that kind of love is healthy and good. Why must we break ourselves in the face of heartless meritocracy? Be you. Do what you love. Be love. Be kindness. Be compassion. Do what you need to do to survive, but be good.
We live in a world today that needs so much more love and compassion. It needs empathy. And Fred Rogers by all accounts was the epitome of that.
To start things off, I’d like to provide some context for myself: I am a first generation Canadian born to a Chinese mother who had immigrated to Canada at the age of 8 from South America where she was born, and a Chinese father who was born and raised in the Carribean. From both of those sources I have inherited a certain amount of my ethnic heritage, but from both of those sources I have also been unable to absorb enough of my ethnic heritage. At this point in my life, I feel much more like a 2nd generation Canadian than a first.
There has been a fair amount of back and forth on twitter about people who are confused about the ethnic short played ahead of The Incredibles 2, and those who are not. My youngest brother saw the movie ahead of my parents, who saw it together as a date, and then I on my lonesome saw it today in theatres. I had immediately come from Won’t You Be My Neighbour? and was treating myself to a double feature going into this short, and was left gross sobbing by the time the credit sequence for the main film played. Upon getting home from my stint of cinema I proceeded to ask my pure blooded Chinese mother who watched the film and was mildly unsurprised to see she was of the party who didn’t quite get the theme of the short.
For many, the theme is simplistic: a senior mother is lamenting the loss of her grown up son to the sands of time and is coping with it through the symbolic eponymous Bao. My mother understood that, but she didn’t understand why it had to be a bao.
In the varying dialects and scripts of China, bao, depending on how it is written and inflected, can refer to the dumpling; the wrapper; it can mean treasure; it can mean to embrace; or to be satisfied; I had been taught that it meant “full.”
For the Chinese and many other ethnicities, food and cooking is synonymous with love. It’s why mother’s food always tastes so good: because it is made with love. It’s nourishment both physically and emotionally. Bao is the metaphor for that love.
My mother claims that most of her Chinese cooking had been taught to her by her older sister, and I myself have learned very little ethnic cooking from my mother. As a First Generation Canadian child growing up in a small Canadian towne of one of three Chinese families in the entire school, I had no care to be Chinese. It has not been until of late with the uprising of ethnic focused media that I have begun to lament the discarding of the cultural identity that was inherent to me. My mother, very obviously, related more to the mother in the short, and while I empathized with the mother to the point of tears, related myself to her dumpling headed son.
I have lost touch with my ethnicity. I have lost touch with the cultural identity that is for all intents and purposes, my birthright. I, like Bao, wanted nothing to do with Mother’s Love; her identity; I wanted so much to play with the other boys and like the other boys. I’m dating a white girl (which is not inherently a bad thing, but I will get to that cultural sensitivity in a moment) who I love. I have wanted my entire life, so badly, to not be Chinese. And now, like Bao, I come seeking my mother bringing with me the buns we once shared, and I had rejected.
This short is more than about being an Empty Nester, which is why, in my opinion, so many “white people” aren’t understanding it. To give it solely that description is merely base: it’s easy. It’s about growing up and growing apart, but it’s also about culture and identity. How can you relate to a film about those thematics, when your cultural identity has always been something that is firmly secured? As a Canadian born Chinese, to borrow Gene Luen Yang’s terminology, I never truly fit in in either ethnicity despite being generally accepted by either. To the other white kids, I was always, would always, and will always be Chinese; not even “Chinese” specifically, just “Asian” to make it even worse and even further blur the lines of my cultural identity. To my grandparents and other Chinese folks, I will never be truly one of them until I learn our history, our traditions, and most importantly: our language. It was a privilege that had been presented to me at a young age but one that I resented and rejected. Now I live each day with regret being unable to communicate with my sole remaining grandmother. And when she is gone I won’t be able to learn the rest.
To touch on the “cultural sensitivity” I mentioned earlier, Bao’s bringing home of specifically a blonde-haired blue eyed *white* girl as his fiance, it’s the last straw for Mom and many other old generation Chinese. I had been brought up, not necessarily by my parents, to think that not marrying Chinese would be diluting the bloodline. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this. Some of my cousins are half-white, and I myself am of mixed blood if I go far enough up my father’s side of the tree. The issue with this once again revolves around the idea of a loss of cultural identity. When you marry someone who is not of the same ethnicity as you, it can be seen, quite frankly, as assimilation. No longer identifying with your culture. Marrying into a different one. Being a different one. You have discarded your heritage in exchange for a foreign one. In this day and age I want to say that that ideology is outdated, however I believe it is one that should not be so easily forgotten. It’s exactly what the “White Devils” did to the aboriginal populations. If they could not be exterminated by means of violence, they would be culturally exterminated by ways of breeding. My grandmother on my father’s side was known for saying, “marry lighter than yourself.” It’s pervasive. And it works.
However, in today’s society, it doesn’t have to be this incredibly awful thing. As presented in Bao, we have the opportunity to maintain our ethnic roots and to share our ethnic roots as presented by both the Son and his white Fiance learning from Mom how to makes the baos. We don’t have to lose sight of who we are. We are allowed to be a part of that which we are inheritors of, if we want to. And if others want to learn about us, we can teach them.
Kubo Deserves far more Attention in the Box Office
PTRIKY’S SPOILER FREE REVIEW OF KUBO
I’m jotting all of this down, coming home from just seeing the movie while it’s still fresh in my head.
First and foremost, it’s a funny movie. It’s not a comedy, but the jokes’ rhythm and pacing is very good despite being incredibly dry humor. It’s not smart or sophisticated, it’s just simple and a little juvenile, however it gets the job done: it’s entertaining. I even found myself unexpectedly laughing out loud at one or two points of the movie. The majority of the comedic elements fall to Matthew McConaughey’s character, “Beetle”, and frankly I enjoyed him quite a lot in this film despite not liking him in pretty much everything else that he does.
This masterpiece is visually stunning and a cultural phenomenon, heavily steeped in Japanese culture and mythology. It’s on point straight from the get-go all the way towards the end. I don’t have much more to say on that point besides it being one of my favourite things about the movie. It can go from light-hearted to incredibly creepy and terrifying in an instant.
The sound track is really great and the end credits cover of While my Guitar Gently Weeps is incredibly on point.
In an age where 3D-digital animation dominates the cinemas, Laika continues to use primarily stop motion for this film for no other reason I can determine except for simply because they can. They could just as easily choose not to and can be seen in at least several scenes where the artistry is simply being shown off. It doesn’t move the plot forward or showcase anything we haven’t seen before, but allows for the crew to showcase their cinematic capabilities while adding mild depth to the characters’ development.
The plot itself is fairly cliché along with some of its characters, however given the type of story that is being played out, I think it’s okay. There are several things I think I would’ve done differently to allow for greater twists or depth within the genre, however, again, given what this whole film is about and its focus on classical storytelling, I think it’s overall alright. Overall, I’d like to give this move a 7/10, and is definitely worth seeing at least several times if not at least once. Please go see this movie and support Laika Studios.
that moment when everything is a disaster and you don’t know what to do and you end up neglecting your spiritual stuff when you KNOW that hsi is the precise moment where you should turn to spirituality
its 1am and im fucking tired as shit and i feel so far from my gods like sometimes i feel so amazing and I want to learn from them and interact with them but other times I just forget about them for long periods of time until i have to make offerings and this sucks I feel so distant and I can’t even like ugh
