In my time as a ballroom dance teacher I used all kinds of music, and in my earlier days most of that music came from what I called “teaching CDs”. No one uses CDs anymore, but for a while I was dependent on this arcane tech to get my job done.
One of these CDs featured some pretty good (Edit: “pretty good” is relative and revisiting some of these tracks recently revealed time has not been kind to their quality) covers of various pop hits, remixed with their beats highly enhanced and with random vocalists singing the lyrics to avoid licensing issues or something. I always loved one of songs that had a distinctive R&B feel to it. I had never heard it outside of this CD, to my knowledge, but it stuck with me and I always liked it.
Fast forward to when I learned the truth. Australian ARIA Hall of Famer Tina Arena is the artist, and the song was released to worldwide success in 1994. I’d be lying if I told you I already knew this. And that’s the crime, here. Tina Arena should be a household name. To be fair, “Chains” did chart in the US so it isn’t exactly unknown here. It just isn’t widely known.
Her vocals are a mix of Mariah Carey and Celine Dion, and she should have cornered the market on that except that Mariah and Celine already existed, I guess.
Not only that, but “Chains” was a single from Arena’s *third* album, “Don’t Ask”. Why didn’t I know this? Don’t ask… But seriously, “Chains” is an awesome banger that still slaps, as the kids say, and don’t miss her version of it with The Veronicas and Jessica Mauboy.
As far as music videos go, watch the Aussie one, especially since, well, she’s Australian. It’s a bit on the nose, as far as interpretation goes, with her ripping paper off of windows to express her resentment towards it.
Damn you, chain-like paper.
The US version… It’s… okay. It’s fine. But, like, why even is it a thing? It’s mostly just her with a fan blowing her hair, reaction shots, a random flower and some boots. Epilepsy inducing flashes abound and so much of it is unneccesary. I feel like someone in the US didn’t think she was sexy enough, and then this happened. Like, “how dare you bring your Australian music video filth into US broadcasting”, or whatever. It’s not her fault, though. She is sexy and talented. The US just tends to overdo.
Just stick to the original. It’s more a mood, a moment, while the US version just tries too hard.
When it comes down to it, Aussie pop is a powerful thing, and it deserves much more acclaim than it gets in the US. Go now, and listen to “Chains” and break free from the shackles of a Tina Arena-less life.
Television series come and go. There are always beginnings but not always endings to a television series. A wifi signal pierced the air through the mountains, finding its way to my router. It streamed a collage of images to my television through my Roku’s Amazon Prime Video app. It was a beginning.
And it made me nervous.
I first read The Wheel of Time series starting almost twenty years ago and it took me years to finish it, which is fine because it took years for each book to be released. I’ve only read the series once. I’ve indulged in much of the lore online, but I also had to have many of the secrets of the series divulged to me by others online. I never was able to theorycraft any new idea that some other reader hadn’t already done so perfectly or otherwise tore to shreds with their superior knowledge of the series.
In short, I’m a simple fan of the series. I love it. But I don’t consider myself the gatekeeper to its secrets, custodian of its integrity, or protector of its content against those who are “unworthy”. I just enjoyed reading it, and basically grew up with the characters as they did since I was a teen of seventeen years when I first met the fellow teens and would-be heroes from Two Rivers.
All the way back to the strange, rushed, Billy Zane-featuring Winter Dragon from 2015, Wheel of Time fans have had a battered relationship with the novels being adapted to the screen. That… strange thing was more of a legal pissing contest over intellectual property rights than a good faith attempt at adaptation. It left many fans in doubt that the gargantuan task of adapting a sprawling fantasy series could or ever would be done.
Fast forwarding our own time wheel here and *poof* Amazon has released the first few episodes of an actual, realized, funded television adaptation. And it already has a second season in production. So… are Wheel of Time fans once again getting jerked around? Depends on who you ask.
After having watched the first few available episodes, I have… well, some thoughts.
Much like Robert Jordan’s first entry The Eye of the World began as an homage to Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, since Tolkien essentially defined the literary genre of fantasy fiction. Amazon’s Wheel of Time similarly pays homage to another work of television that essentially defined the fantasy genre. Namely, Game of Thrones. There’s drinking and cussing, sex and beards, and muted colors and blood blood blood, but strangely no blood and bloody ashes. It really sounds like a good time actually.
Comparing this series to Game of Thrones is inevitable, even if many of us are traumatized by the memories of betrayal and ringing bells. The Song of Ice and Fire series of novels is more or less a competitive contemporary of Robert Jordan’s series in book form.
For the most part, the “edginess” is fine. It’s fine. It’s…fine. I get it. It’s what audiences expect. It’s what producers expect. It sells. Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Ring series even went that way with The Hobbit films, not that that was a good thing for the series, but evoking the wholesomeness of Hobbits and the Shire is just not currently en vogue. En Vogue was writing hit songs when Jordan’s books first came out anyway, if that provides any temporal context.
So evolving with the times is inevitable. Fine.
My only complaint about the first few episodes so far is that the first episode is not only a bit rushed as far as pacing, but some of the “character building” additions to the story only crowded the pace without seeming fully realized. The story beats that did match the books worked fine, and ultimately things happened that needed to happen.
I’m not saying that most of those changes shouldn’t have been there as much as they felt shoehorned into an already crowded script. So they exist in some intermediate version where they are either too cramped to make an impact, or not developed enough to fully belong.
But choices like this were inevitable, and in some cases necessary. Robert Jordan was a deliberate writer. His first few novels unpeeled layers of the world a bit at a time. In later novels, he continued peeling off a few layers at a time, which resulted in some of the books seeming to stall as the peeling of layers never stopped. It was a slog at times.
Robert Jordan’s books often had the pacing of a daytime soap opera. You could read a little bit every day and some people would still be having the same conversations. Then finally, maybe once a week or so, something grand or exciting would happen, a plot discovered, a twist revealed. But after, it would continue at its normal pace.
This is fine for books. Unless you’re Dan Brown.
Amazon’s Wheel of Time is not a daytime soap which will air five days a week with ultimately hundreds of episodes. It doesn’t have time to deliberate on dress colors and internal thoughts. No, it has places to show and men to gentle. And in that regard, I feel the aspects of the world that have been revealed, from Liandrin to Whitecloaks, are necessary. Multilateral depiction of a world in a television series meant to adapt a large setting is necessary, especially early on.
Having said that, I think the opening scene with Liandrin, and later the Whitecloak scene with the Aes Sedai at the stake, were a bit redundant and I have a feeling they were added later. It’s almost like someone said, “I don’t know who these characters are and our audience will be stupid so let’s handhold them through every scene.”
Liandrin first appearing at the end of episode 3 would have been just fine, especially with the false Dragon in tow, and I didn’t need to see that Questioner play with severed hands before seeing him fondle Moiraine’s hands, presumably looking for her ring, to get creeped out by him. The absence of those scenes would have opened up some time and space in the story without losing anything that we wouldn’t learn later anyway.
“Don’t you believe in mystery, don’t you wanna play my game?” as Vanity 6 once said. Show don’t tell, even if what you’ve shown isn’t followed up for a few episodes. The uncertainty can but fun, if you let it pay off. Audiences aren’t stupid.
Aside from the heavy-handed overexposition, I enjoyed most of everything else. The casting was great, and it’s probably the series greatest strength so far, even if we already have a season 2 recast for Mat. Shadar Logoth was incredible, one of the highlights in the first book and I loved seeing it brought to life, even sans Mordeth, but I was puzzled that Mashadar was altered. It still worked, though.
The reveal of the Darkfriend in the tavern actually got me, because I found that was a great way for the TV show to introduce that concept of how literally no one can be trusted. So if we can get more moments like that, I’ll be happy.
So after watching the first episode, I’ll admit that I was nervous. I had been looking forward to this series since it was announced and none of the press up to this point had given me much reason to doubt the series or its “faithfulness” to the source material. After continuing the next couple episodes my nerves were mostly quelled.
The adventure, once it properly began in episode two, really began to align with the spirit of the books and as long as that spirit is kept in mind the series will have a masterful guide. I think the first episode just had too much of an identity crisis. Too many chefs in the kitchen trying to make sure the “pilot” episode (even though functionally it wasn’t a pilot since the rest of the season was guaranteed anyhow) ticked all the boxes, of which perhaps there were a couple too many.
Overall, I’m glad the show is finally here, but the show should ideally stick to its own identity. It doesn’t need to be Amazon’s GoT, or the starter course for Amazon’s eventual Lord of the Rings series. Let it be Wheel of Time and ride on the winds of time and streaming television. Trust the material.
And lastly, I’m sickened at seeing some fans of the books get bent out of shape regarding the diversity of the cast. You’re not fooling anyone arguing about accuracy to the book characters. You know what you sound like, and so do we.
And Carrie has hit the campaign trail with pre-Mad Men silver fox and just as suave if not as obviously sleazy Bill Kelley. She’s not really good at it, preferring to avoid putting pinholes in her Halston rather that wearing the pro-Kelley pin that the handsome campaign manager keeps pushing. Style over support?
Their nights of intimacy seem to be going well, though.
Meanwhile Miranda continues to keep cutie Steve at bay. She deserves her boundaries, but Steve winds up confessing he isn’t interested in the FWB thing while seeing other people because, for him, there are no other people. So now begins the ticking time bomb. Miranda didn’t have any others either, but that doesn’t mean she needs to fold yet, right?
Over a daytime meal (brunch, lunch?), the gals talk politics. Sort of. Mainly, Charlotte confesses her college crush on Dan Quayle. Gross, Charlotte. Even worse, she agrees that it reminded her of her father which is just a weird place to go with a college crush. But with all the “kids” now calling any hot guy over the age of 18 “Daddy” then I guess there are worse things.
Miranda continues to defend her hesitance regarding Steve to Carrie. Carrie suggests Miranda list the things she likes versus things she doesn’t, since Miranda feels suddenly incapable of discussing things like an adult despite being the most well spoken and adult friend in the entire group. She blames this on not being “political” because apparently having hot sex makes her lose her wits or something?
Thus, Carrie posits the theme of the episode about the balance between sex and relationship politics.
Samantha is having a peaceful cocktail before she is accosted by a man calling her “Pink Lady” while she’s wearing blue. Maybe it’s her lipstick? Rightfully she admonishes his pickup line but is otherwise intrigued at this man’s confidence and insistence. Sparks seem to be flying while the flattery blooms and that’s when a page calls Jeff Fenton away from the encounter. As he leaves it is quite clear he’s a short man. A pocket stud, perhaps? That Pink Lady line, though…sheesh.
Apparently straight women are like amusement park rides and Samantha, Charlotte, and Samantha use some *terms* for short people to try to find a label for Mr. Fenton, who is not tall enough for admission. Carrie, half-heartedly anyway, at least mentions how politically incorrect their conversation is. Haha… it’s funny because politically incorrect during an episode about, um, politics… ha. Okay, the writers tried.
Charlotte, ever since the last episode, is 100% more determined than ever to get married and heads off to mingle with rich politicos.
Miranda arrives with Steve, who doesn’t realize he is currently being reduced to a table of pros and cons.
Also, Samantha’s line to a random party goer declaring her disdain for either the Republican or Democratic parties in favor of just parties is great, but unfortunately didn’t age well in our current time of strife when women and minorities don’t have the luxury of being indifferent politically. I still love Samantha, though. The joke is very “of the time” and I guess you just had to be there.
Thankfully, Stanford arrives. Finally some life in this party. Before jetting off to the Vagina Monologues (which stuns Carrie for some reason, oh wait it’s for a joke), Stannie has enough time to meet Bill Kelley. I have to give props to the character here for not getting all freaked out about being near a gay man. He even confidently mentions his ass as the key asset for carrying the queer vote. It was nice to see him not get all “no homo”.
Then, Stanford gets a glimpse on the handsome campaign manager. It’s not his first glimpse, though, as apparently Andrew roller blades on 8th Avenue. I’m not a New Yorker, what is the relevance of 8th Avenue? Thanks in advance. Anyway, Carrie attempts to be discreet matchmaker for Stannie, and it turns out that Andrew is in fact interested in the mens. Except, he’s a type gay who wants the blonde muscle guy instead of the funny entrepreneur. Typical. Gay men can be ruthless. I should know having been on both sides of that issue in my younger years, regrettably.
Oh, and Charlotte is drunk for the second episode in a row and comes up with the worst party idea ever. Bring and ex and hook up with an ex! It’s totally trouble.
Then we get another intimate scene with Carrie and Kelley. He wants to be peed on, but make it sexy.
Later, Carrie and the girls lament Bill’s affection for golden showers. While it’s a touchy topic it’s an understandable one, but maybe without so much kink shaming? But hey, if you’re not into it, you’re not into. Though, Samantha advocates at least considering making a “concession for the right guy” even as all the others reflexively reject the notion.
The drama continues while Carrie resists drinking water while dining on spicy curry. Bill mentions her column. How has he waited so long to mention it? Surely, it would have come up. He tries to butter her up some more, perhaps priming her for his request. Carrie is relieved at being able to drink water so that she can eventually relieve herself non sexually when he has to call it an early night.
Later, at Charlotte’s terrible party Carrie brings Stanford. Charlotte actually gets upset and Carrie making a mockery of her party by bringing a gay guy (who Carrie is in fact not interested in). That’s actually a lowkey joke there, and I like it. Samantha brings Jeff. He’s totally not that short, but Samantha encourages him to mingle. Miranda on the other hand quickly realizes that this party will not convince her to dating others besides Steve. Because of it’s a minefield of bitter exes.
Also, I love Charlotte’s passive aggressive no smoking sign totally not on purpose aimed at Carrie.
Charlotte hits it off with some trust fund baby/travel junkie. Spoilers, his ex gets jealous and takes him back. Speaking of exes, Jeff learns the premise of the party from a jilted party goer. He guilts her into sleeping with him, but she, despite being sexually open minded enough to consider the possibility of piss play, hasn’t even considered sleeping with a short guy? Come on, writers.
Stanford decides to cruise the party for distraught straight guys willing to try a guy while in a post-breakup malaise.
Sex is had in the city with both Miranda and Samantha conceding to their opposition. It’s in Miranda’s bed where Steve confesses love. It’s what calls off the list-making for Miranda.
Samantha’s story doesn’t end up as romantically. Jeff apparently shops in the boys department, a fact he owns up to. The banter between them is funny and Samantha gets a kick. The silver lining is that at least Jeff made Samantha laugh even though they broke up for two weeks. Well, I guess that’s something.
Across town, Carrie rather delicately turns down Bill’s request. She even offers some alternatives, which is nice, but really a simple no would have worked. It doesn’t really matter, though. For whatever reason, perhaps due to shame, Bill calls things off since she’s basically a sex columnist and how that is not good for the campaign. Maybe he’s only into piss, but judging her career like that was totally shitty.
While I don’t think it’s fair to hold ones’ kinks against them, being jilted for one’s career is crap. It’s the poetic end of the Princess and the Pee when she reports of this in her column. Despite use of pseudonyms, I’m sure it was quite obvious who the politico is. So what was worse for the campaign, dating a sex columnist, or breaking up with a woman because she’s a sex columnist?
It’s here, and you didn’t need a Prothean beacon to tell you about it.
Several years ago I attempted to play through the Mass Effect series with my morally acrobatic but overall paragon Femshep. By the time I got to the third game I began to have this sinking feeling that something wasn’t right.
No, it wasn’t the fact that her lips were more than slightly and comically pronounced as if she got a heavy dose of some drag queen level fillers. The first game’s graphics wound up not portraying this fact very well, so it wasn’t until Mass Effect 2 that I began to see the cosmetic horror I had created. Still, I loved her. And she loved Kaidan. And then she loved Garrus. And then she started to love Kaidan again in Mass Effect 3.
And that is when the sinking feeling began.
You see, I didn’t expect to like Mass Effect so much. For years I saw it as an overly action-y diet RPG and I unconsciously resented it for depriving me of a KOTOR 3. In fact, the first couple of hours were very much a “been there, done that” experience considering that, mechanically, it felt very much like KOTOR, aside from the shooting stuff. Go to this planet. Use the force, er, um… the Mass Effect.
But then Virmire happened. And while this planet was the typical plot twist that Bioware has written time and again, this particular permutation is what elevated the series and its emphasis on choices and consequences. It was from Virmire on that I began to truly love the series. So why did I stop playing my Femshep story?
Romance. Bioware romance in particular. I’m a junky for it. Starting with Baldur’s Gate 2 and then continuing with KOTOR and the proto-Kaidan hunk that was Carth Onasi, and of course now with Mass Effect.
My weakness to this silly narrative device now causes me to base entire RPG experiences around who my lover will be. It’s ironic that I still gravitate to this as a gay adult with a husband, but it all began when I was an isolated not-out gay teenager who was desperate for examples of love that I was scared I would not ever find for myself.
Which means I’m no stranger to playing as women in RPG’s. In some ways it’s more compelling but for years it was also the only way I could hear another man tell me he loved me, even though it was all a fiction.
So playing Femshep was not a problem for me. Jennifer Hale’s voice acting didn’t hurt either. Playing Femshep gave me access to all of those juicy, juicy (okay, only a couple) love scenes and all that flirty dialogue.
But then Mass Effect 3 started to happen. And Mass Effect 3 also gives the player access, finally, to some same sex romances, besides Liara. So as my Femshep chatted away with Kaidan in the hospital, asking forgiveness for working with Cerberus and cheating on Kaidan with Garrus (poor Garrus, he turned out to be amazing!), I realized that I could have been romancing Kaidan *as a man*.
Emotional paralysis set in. Should I forge ahead with Femshep, or could I trudge through the romantic desert of the first two games with a Gayshep? Instead of deciding, I set the game aside and never looked back.
Well, that’s not true. I looked back quite a bit. Then, several years later, with the release of Mass Effect: Legendary Edition I finally had a chance to rectify this.
At first I was daunted by the fear of missing out. I mean, nothing was stopping me from sleeping with whoever I wanted, right? Wouldn’t Kaidan still love me anyway?
Saving Kaidan in Mass Effect 1 basically locked Shepard into being a gold star gay anyway, at least for that game. So, I had to imagine the sexual tension between Kaidan and Shepard because Kaidan barely talked to me anyway. Seriously though, even for Femshep Kaidan is a decent if overlooked lover in the first game but I have some suspicions that the developers never expected Femshep to become as iconic as she did. It’s just a straight boys’ world and everyone else is just living in it, am I right? (Sarcasm)
Don’t mind me, just logging into engineer4biotic.com
The long, sexless, loveless slog continued through Mass Effect 2, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as I expected. Of course, Mass Effect 2 on its own is amazing, as far a characters and story go, so it wasn’t a hardship. In fact, it started to make sense. Sure, there were still advances from women, unconsented ones I might add, and I did wind up having to tell Miranda that we’d just be friends.
In fact, interacting with squad mates felt just like being gay and not 100% out would. You avoid women who might have a thing for you because you don’t want it to get awkward. You feel occasionally feel awkward buddying up to other guys because, well, it will never go the way you would ideally want so, again, awkward.
Not time for love. Just duty I guess. That’s what made sense.
In many ways, the character of Shepard is a composite of many western action heroes from all sorts of media like novels, television, film, comics, etc. And for characters in those mediums, it is always the mission that comes first. James Bond, for example, famously has flings with countless women, but they are all momentary dalliances. Just physical fun until the right opportunity to drive the mission home presented itself, with only a couple of exceptions.
And like James Bond, the straight player has several opportunities to appease Shepard’s physical needs, even if some of those turn out to be more serious. But they don’t have to. Choose a new partner each game if you want. Be just like James Bond, but in space. Don’t let anyone too close, and just use them for sex or something.
Bond never looked like this.
And let’s be real, if Gayshep has just as many opportunities to sleep around don’t think players wouldn’t.
But it’s getting to Mass Effect 3 where things began to change. I knew I could finally have my chance, so after every mission I found myself compulsively checking personal messages, showing up at the hospital where Kaidan was recovering, and eventually rejoining with him.
I couldn’t help it. I’d spent two games not just denying my desires, but having the games deny me any way to express them.
Oops, Kaidan’s shirt disappeared when Shepard walked in.
And then once things started for real with Kaidan, it was better than ever. We had put Cerberus behind us, he complimented me, he told me that we could be there for each other as the galaxy fell apart. Sign me up. He even cooked allegedly Canadian cuisine which is apparently alliterative as well.
The game changed. Literally. In the game I had someone to live for, to fight for, and it wasn’t just work any more. It was personal. It was intimate. It was no longer about the mission, about duty, and when it was about those things my squad mate and partner Kaidan would be there to share the burden so that we could both, hopefully, see it to the end.
Until the end, that is.
I knew that the ending was… controversial. I had avoided spoilers for the better part of a decade as to why, specifically, the ending was controversial, but I had my suspicions. Epic games like this lend themselves to high stakes and high costs. It’s not mystery what that could mean.
So when Shepard called in for an emergency evac to extract Kaidan and Liara (my main squad when ever I could get them), I knew this would be tough. I had been dreading this moment. I didn’t want it to happen. I considered stopping the game right then and there for a moment. Yes, they did share their “I love yous”, yes it was a tender moment despite the terrific and frightful battlefield.
Sigh… *cries*
But then… ugh. Kaidan’s face as Shepard went off to do the heroic thing. His face said it all. And it broke me. I mean really, congrats to the animators on this one. Kaidan’s eyebrows deserve an award. It was perfect and terrible all at once. And that was actually the end of the game for me.
Yes, I did beat the rest, but it didn’t matter as much.
My senior English teacher said that true death is when the ego ceases to exist, the sense of “I am”. When one no longer has that sense, they are dead, even if their body still lives.
And at that moment in Mass Effect 3, me as the person playing Shepard had no more ego. Everything that had brought my Shepard to life was back on the Normandy. The mission had ceased being the driving force because Shepard had found something more personal, more fulfilling.
And yes, it was romance, Bioware’s cheap, drug-like, melodramatic love . But it was also validation, and acceptance, and representation and everything that I hadn’t realized I had been doing without in a video game, because you know what? LGBT people don’t get those things thrown at us as often in real life either.
Mine and my Shepard’s ego in the world of Mass Effect had become a fully realized gay person. He wasn’t just a soldier anymore. He was fully human. He loved and could give love. Isn’t that why it was worth fighting the Reapers?
And he had to give it up.
I played through the last several minutes in a heartbroken, dissociative haze. It didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel important. Perhaps that what it would have taken if the game were real, such depersonalization in order to act in circumstances that are literally larger than life. But it wasn’t about Kaidan, so I didn’t really care anymore.
Okay maybe a little, but it didn’t matter nearly as much as the sorrowful man on the Normandy adding my Shepard’s name plate to the rest of the crew’s fallen. What about Kaidan, now? Should I even ask?
I don’t regret anything, though. It’s still a great series. Besides, there is always another run but with Steve Cortez, instead. Maybe I can do a bit of Project Lazarus myself and get Femshep going again. But I think this first complete run to the end with Kaidan will always stick out. He was there at the beginning, and almost there until the end. If only I could stop thinking about those mournful eyebrows…
Once I was old enough, I spent my summer breaks at home instead of having to go to a day care. My parents both worked, so I wound up spending many of those days home alone. While I did have chores that needed doing and friends that I could see, most of my day was spent doing whatever I liked, and it was my first taste of independence.
One summer day while flipping through channels, I came across this movie that showed a Chinese wedding. While they were dressed in western clothes, they were engaging in various wedding games that seemed foreign to me based on the Southern weddings I had attended up to that point.
I must have continued searching channels, but upon returning I was transfixed by what I saw. Two men entered an apartment and began to kiss, tear at each other’s clothes, and they were practically undressed by the time they got up stairs, where they unexpectedly found one of the men’s father. They proceeded to discreetly dress and tend to the older man’s health, hoping he hadn’t heard their discourse that would have led to intercourse.
While I had had my own experiences of this nature despite my youth (which is a long story on its own…), this was my first time seeing this in a film or in any way depicted on TV. I immediately identified with their need for secrecy, their fear of discovery, their worry of disappointing family. Basically, that was all reality for me and my young mind was both exhilarated at the chance to see other people, albeit fictional, with whom I could identify, and deathly afraid that this would also be the tragic path my life would follow because of being gay.
The movie was 1993’s “The Wedding Banquet,” by Ang Lee who is also known for “Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon” and that other famous gay flick “Brokeback Mountain.”
The film is about a Taiwanese man who is living his life as a gay American openly and happily with his partner in New York City. Half a world away in his homeland, his family is constantly harping on him about getting married, going so far as to send potential brides to visit him. Eventually, this pressure builds to the point where Wai’s partner Simon suggests that he marry a Taiwanese tenant Wei Wei, who fears her time in America will soon end with deportation if she can’t find a job or a man.
The marriage of convenience turns out to be anything but when Wai’s parents insist on coming to visit America for the wedding. One thing leads to another in a comical way until finally the deception begins to break down everyone involved. While the truth of the matter is not easy to accept or divulge, it turns out to be for the best.
The obvious themes of being gay and coming out are apparent here, and they’re explored thoughtfully. They are also paired with the cultural ramifications. While it is Taiwanese customs that are challenged by Wai’s homosexuality, it’s easy to switch out any culture, even an American one, and the story’s applicability stands.
Wai’s scene coming out to his mother is genuine, even considering the early 90’s setting. The difficulties he describes gay people have finding relationships when even straight people have a hard time are headed breaking, and his explanation that he was “born this way” rings true even decades before Lady Gaga made it a tagline. When Wai’s father comes out in his own way, telling Simon that he knows about them and that he just wants to make sure his son is taken care of, I cried. It was beautiful and simple.
And that is probably the film’s greatest strength, aside from its clever writing: the endearing characters. Every single one gets into your soul in some way. In fact, none of them are antagonists in a major way as much as they are all struggling against the situation. In that sense, you get a chance to understand each one, and that’s where they get to you, and you can feel what they are all going through.
While Ang Lee is more well known for “Brokeback Mountain” and its challenge to American culture in particular made it more controversial and famous, I feel like I prefer the tone of “The Wedding Banquet”. While the inherent warning of the former suggests that America’s steadfast adherence to traditional masculinity and heterosexuality can indeed be back-breaking and life-shattering, the latter shows the benefits benefits of cultural progress, even if the price is accepting an emerging culture that has very little precedent.
Even more outstanding is that all is this was done in a time when marriage equality was unthinkable, even though gay marriage itself is not addressed. It’s just a shame that the themes explored in this film may not have appealed to a 90’s crowd that was still reeling from the AIDS crisis.
When I was explaining to my own partner last week about this film and how it still resonated with me, I was surprised that he knew what I was talking about (he doesn’t watch as many movies as I do) and produced a copy of it for us to watch. Finally watching it in its entirety bright back a flood of old feelings that I could more easily handle now that I can deal with that aspect if my life.
I am glad to say that my own life has turned out similarity to this film. While I had my own phase of being closeted, hiding from my parents who I really am, the truth has finally come out for us all. Like Wai, I have my own partner and my parents know him and see that I’m happy. It could have turned it much worse, and for many others the characters of “Brokeback Mountain” are an unfortunate reality. Perhaps “The Wedding Banquet” may be more of what we will see in the world.
While it may have been a naive fantasy back in the 90’s, the film is now truer to life. That is as much a testament to how our society has developed as it is to Ang Lee’s ability to capture this particular slice of life, what it’s like to be gay, and to find acceptance.
Steam informed me recently that a game on my wish list was on sale. I don’t add items to that list often, but there are a few I forget are there. I checked it out and found that it was Elite: Dangerous.
I didn’t know much about it off the top of my head, but investigating the store page reminded me of the appeal. Open world. Milky Way galaxy recreation. Massive scale. MMO. Flight simulator.
So I bought it…
But first, let’s start in the mid-90s. For the record I was unaware until recently that Elite: Dangerous had previous installments during this time period. Had I known this the story would be different.
Anyway, I happened to pick up Lucasarts’ space combat simulator X-Wing when I was a kid. The box art and screenshots entranced me. I too would get to experience the ultimate freedom of space travel and get to blast Tie fighters into sparking fragments along the way.
After several disks worth of installation (this was the original DOS version), I was ready to play and within minutes I was in the cockpit of the X-Wing, adjusting shield levels, engine speeds, and aiming at various vessels. This was what I was waiting for. True freedom.
This sense was quickly dashed, if only momentarily, when I noticed that those stars and galaxies and planets far off in the background were merely that, background. There would be no interstellar travel for me. Just intense space combat, and the promise of thrills like the films.
This series was quite popular as it turns out, spanning into the next decade with its sequel Tie Fighter offering the best experience in my opinion.
Still, there was that desire to fly among the stars that gnawed at me.
Let’s flashforward several years to the late 2000s. This is when I first tried EVE Online. This, I thought, was it. This was what I had always wanted. An entire galaxy to explore replete with space stations and starships, enemies and allies, and everything in between. Yes, it truly offers all these things.
Here I had my chance to be a renowned star fighter, but I could also be a pilot, a space miner (and perhaps have a daughter who would wrote a song about such things), an industrialist, or even a scheming CEO of a corporation filled with other real people to manipulate and command.
The options were endless, but so was the path to progress it seemed. Now don’t get me wrong, EVE Online is great at what it offers, but it’s also demanding. And slow. And cutthroat. Eventually everything becomes a point and click affair, even space travel, which is more about navigating menus rather than space itself.
It’s not hard to admit that I enjoyed the game, generally but it is hard to admit that perhaps it’s a little more daunting than I would like for something that I want to truly enjoy.
At the end of the day, EVE Online offered quite a bit, more than I imagined in fact, but it still missed that certain something.
There were other games that came close, like Star Trek Online, with its arcade-ish space combat and the ability to lead away teams on planets. If you’ve wanted to be a Starfleet captain, or even a Romulan or Klingon, this is your chance. It’s a lighter version of EVE Online, to be sure, but its content is still entertaining and the fantastic setting is a bonus.
After years of playing games, it’s safe to say that some of my earliest wishes have been buried under layers of reality and disappointment, but fortunately they have also been augmented by gaming experiences that have truly been enjoyable in unexpected ways.
So there I was the other day, loading up Elite: Dangerous. I tried the training missions, thinking that this really is a very similar game to EVE. Except that I was sitting in a cockpit. And that I could fly to any available star. And fight. And dock with space stations.
Then it hit me.
No, not that asteroid I collided with because I was still calibrating my controls.
No, it was something else: the realization that this is the game I had been wanting to play for almost twenty years!
Even better is the fact that Elite: Dangerous’ developers have already declared (not speculated as in the case of EVE) the kind of content they will roll out, like planetary landings and such. This is more than thrilling, and I feel like I’ve finally come full circle with those expectations born from the back of the X-Wing box all those years ago.
So, if you’ll excuse me, I need to prep my ship for travel to see either the Sol system in way I’ve never been able to or what lies beyond the other side of the galaxy’s core.
So there’s a new Batman film on the horizon, if you haven’t heard. It’s the new Zack Snyder flick that follows up his mediocre Superman reboot, and pits two acclaimed heroes against each other. On the heels of the previous trilogy of Batman films by Christopher Nolan, this seems gimmicky and crude. In Nolan’s films we got to see Bruce Wayne explore what it takes to become Batman. This delving into pathos was more than we had seen compared to the films that had come before, such as the mid-nineties tripe of Batman Forever and Batman & Robin. Even Tim Burton’s films gave cursory attention to Batman’s past, though the Gothic nature of those films made them timeless in their own rights. But what of that *other* Batman feature film? The one that bombed at the box office, but still garners acclaim to this very day?
Released in 1993, Batman: Mask of the Phantasm was supposed to be the vehicle that brought the well-regarded kids TV show wider notice. At only 76 minutes, it barely qualified as a feature film. It’s animation was spruced up a bit for the theaters, and it got to show a little bit of blood here and there. The question, however, is: is this enough to warrant giving Batman: Mask of the Phantasm such glowing acclaim?
The short answer is a resounding YES.
Now for the long answer.
The film is based on the wildly successful Batman: The Animated Series, which has since been renamed more times than I can count. At the time, the show was riding on the coattails of Burton’s films, but it’s safe to say that the series reinvented itself apart from those films admirably. While taking certain cues from them here and there, such as the darker tone and a disfigured looking Penguin, the series displayed a Gotham City we haven’t seen since, an Art Deco playground for good and evil. Even thought the series launched in 1992, a film was arranged originally for direct-to-video, but was then pushed into theaters where it didn’t fare all that well.
Still it was a critical darling, and ironically it rivals even Christopher Nolan’s films in depth and complexity despite only taking up a fraction of the screen time.
Plot
Plot is important to a film. Unlike television which can take seasons and years to tell a story, you only have minutes to do so in film before people lose interest. Surprisingly, even though the film lasts barely over an hour, it fluidly manages flashbacks and different plots without seeming rushed or incoherent. The bulk of the film is a classic murder mystery, which echoes the film noir influences the series adopted so adeptly.
Batman is framed for murder while a mysterious new vigilante in on the loose. Though this figure is also targeting known criminals, Batman must navigate law enforcement who assumes he is the culprit, the criminals themselves, the mysterious new figure, and finally and old adversary. While all this is going on Bruce Wayne is reminded of his past when an old flame comes to town. Andrea Beaumont is the woman you’ve never ever heard of before who single-handedly nearly aborted the Batman before he ever donned the mask. Sharing similar tragic pasts, they bonded and even mended each other with a romance that started to change Bruce’s pessimistic views into more rosy-tinted ones.
Then there are the criminals themselves, who have their ties to a certain district attorney, one who has eyes for Andrea and the end of Batman. Eventually, his roots are traced to the Joker himself, probably Batman’s greatest foe, other than the memories of romance that appear in this film.
Tying all of this together, we find that Andrea is the Phantasm, that she has been seeking revenge with plans to face off against the Joker herself. As it turns out, she and Bruce have much more in common than they realize, donning masks to fight crime, but Andrea has unfortunately become a twisted reflection of Batman, seeking petty revenge whereas Batman seeks to exercise justice.
Other films have crumbled under much less, but Mask of the Phantasm bears it all easily. The themes of romance, morality, and even nostalgia thread the stories together. At some point in the film, almost every character laments his current state, pining for something more, and looking to the past for comfort. As he should, Batman is the paragon in these matters, but the cost is heavy, as it is poignantly displayed between Alfred and Bruce in the end.
Casting
The cast is the other half of what sells an animated feature. If the voice acting is sub par, no amount of animated wizardry can make up the deficit. Voice Director Andrea Romano struck gold with his cast. Kevin Conroy is the voice of Batman like no screen actor could ever be. Unlike Christian Bale’s raspy drivel, Conroy can serve pleasantness with Bruce Wayne, and immediately dish out ferocious intensity as Batman. Future Desperate Housewife Dana Delaney also shines in her role as Bruce’s former lover. Then, of course, there is Mark Hamill as the Joker. I spent years of my childhood watching Star Wars and Batman, never once thinking that pious Luke Skywalker and devious Joker were characters from the same actor.
These actors among the rest sell the film better than A-listers like Val Kilmer, George Clooney, and others who floundered in showing even less depth as real people than the two-dimensional did figures in this film.
The strength of this film is that, despite its intentions for a young audience, it never sacrifices its integrity to appeal to children. Just like the cartoon series, Mask of the Phantasm relies on storytelling, quality voice acting, and consistent art direction to provide an experience that draws you in. While most adults, understandably, associate animation like cartoons and comics with children, Mask of the Phantasm is like a graphic novel in motion.
Even the soundtrack, by the late Shirley Walker, stands toe to toe with Danny Elfman’s work. It’s a soundtrack that rivals all the films, and is superior to most, even the newest. You also get a sweet little R&B ditty by Tia Carrere during the end credits that was common in the 90’s, and it actually is a better song that what most Pop Princesses are putting out nowadays.
While I did watch other shows of the time like Tiny Toons and The Animaniacs, the Batman series was a breath of mature air that truly stimulated my mind as well as my eyes. Batman: Mask of the Phantasm took that all one step further and provided a cinematic experience that is nearly incomparable with the rest of the Batman franchise. Even as a child I felt sadness at the forlorn Andrea as she stared into the sea alone. I felt relief that Batman did the right thing without succumbing to the darkness he fought almost nightly. I felt disgusted with the corruption among so many in Gotham that made the city so dangerous. And ultimately, I understood the tragedy which prevented both Bruce and Andrea from following their young hearts.
If a film can instill such complex emotions in a child who knows not even to search for these things, then what excuses do the other films have for providing less? Batman: Mask of the Phantasm is truly one of the best Batman films, and it doesn’t even need to rest on other installments in a trilogy to justify its existence.
Since first viewing Rupaul’s Drag Race, I have become voraciously engaged with the show. It’s a sad truth that a reality television show has done this to me, but I have no qualms about this. Unlike other shows of this nature, Drag Race doesn’t exploit its subjects, and in fact it does a lot to elevate drag queens, who have long been the mascots and sometimes scapegoats of the gay community, to a more accepted status.
Every season brings an assortment of entertainers with various quirks, looks, and wit. While some are not easy to like, most grow on me one way or another, kind of like cancer. This season I am replete with Katya tumors and, oh my god, it’s stage four and it’s so, so, so sickening.
While her time on the show has, tragically, ended there is plenty in the future to look forward to from my favorite bisexual Russian hooker. While I longed to see Katya take the crown, or at least make the top three, a queen like her doesn’t need to win this show to make it out in the real world. Several queens from past seasons have become wildly popular without winning, and some winning queens have faded to relative obscurity (erm… Hello, Tyra?).
My main reason for wanting Katya to have made it farther is that she was my favorite part of every episode. Her personality, humor, and gloriously strange presentation gave me life the house down. Now that she has sashayed away, maybe I can start to recover, but I’d really rather not.
Cheers to Katya and her future. I’ll try to get by for the rest of the season without her. I really don’t care who wins anymore. At least I don’t have to watch her make the top three and *not* get crowned.
Here are some moments, of an infinite many, that trace the route my heart followed when it fell head over heels in love with this special queen.
When she walked into the workroom the first time, I was singing “Love at First Sight” like Kylie Minogue.
This slow split was just everything. I. Was. Gagging.
Katya was so full of quips, quibbles, and quotes that she put Bianca Del Rio’s rolodex of hate to shame.
When she broke down and confided with Miss Fame about her addiction struggles, I broke down too.
Now serving: rebellious illegitimate daughter of Ayn Rand realness.
My boyfriend booted up Sim City the other day and started building a new city from scratch. As he did so, he saw that I was watching and sheepishly said, “I never come up with names for my cities. I always leave them named ‘New City’. I’m not that creative.”
He frowned at his perceived awkwardness and started laying roads and power plants and zones and pipes.
So I said, “There was an ancient culture called the Phoenicians. They lived in city states on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea near modern Syria and Lebanon. They were renowned mariners and even invented the alphabet that is the basis for the one we now use.
“They had a rivalry with the ancient Greeks and established colonies all around the Mediterranean coast. Their most prosperous one was called Carthage. When the Phoenician cities were conquered and subjugated into other empires, Carthage was left on its own.
“Carthage eventually became a great power and, similar to the Phoenician rivalry with the Greeks, the Carthaginians had a rivalry with the Romans. After a series of fierce wars, and despite its maritime prowess and economic superiority, Carthage was eventually subdued by the Romans.
“Despite being conquered, the city of Carthage has a rich legacy. Many modern cities, like Cadiz and Cartagena in Spain, can trace their roots to Carthage.
“By the way, the name Carthage comes from the Phoenician name Qart-hadast.
“That translates to New City.”
By this time, his town had begun to develop nicely. He smiled and said, “I like that story.”
Snarkoplex 