Watched: The Great British Bake Off s5, Jessica Jones, We Need to Talk about Kevin, Hide and Seek
The Great British Bake Off (The Great British Baking Show), series 5, 2014
There's something reaffirming about British reality TV. It's certainly edited for drama, as this series's Bingate proves. But it feels less exploitive and competitive, more heartfelt. This was just so lovely to watch, playful and passionate and with engaging variety. I'm not sure I'd feel the same if I watched multiple series, but all reality TV dulls with repetition. I enjoyed this for what it was, and didn't need more.
Jessica Jones, season 1, 2015
My dislike of Daredevil made me hesitant to watch this, despite positive fan response. I should have listened to my gut. It does so many things right in its depiction of rape and trauma survival, even female charactersfemale showrunners help immensely, who would have thought!and I appreciate that. But the larger story failed me: the noir/action styling is tiresome, the tie-ins to Marvel movie-verse out of place, and the plot is a string of twists motivated by unreliable characterssometimes unreliable because of Kilgrave's mind control, as often unreliable for unrelated reasons, all of it off-putting. It's not you, Marvel (okay, well, sometimes it is); it's me. This isn't my thing. (Longer thoughts on what didn't work for me here on Tumblr, crossposted below:)
I want to like Jessica Jones far more than I like Jessica Jones.
In what it does with trauma and rape I respect it immensely, despite potential quibbles on representation of therapy; what it does with gender representation, specifically the secondary role of men, I appreciate.*
But I've long grown tired of Marvel visual medialargely for reasons not represented here!which means the tie ins to the larger movieverse are unwelcome at best and skew the entire atmosphere. Daredevil felt like the odd one out but could almost be excused as a parallel superhero story; Jessica Jones makes a graceless bridge between grimdark Daredevil and quippy Avengers that makes me constantly wonder about the larger narrative and tone. I just can't see this as the same world with a big green Hulk in it, and moreover I don't want to.
And I just. don't care? about plot? I'm not fussed one way or another about characters, I appreciate the premise (and I love that the premise isn't relegated to implications but given an outspoken narrative), but. I suppose "everyone is unreliable" is the natural outcome of mind control, but it's never a tension I've particularly enjoyedand, moreover, people are sometimes unreliable because they are vulnerable but as often unreliable because they're dumb. I don't have a problem with characters making mistakes; I do have a problem with mistakes cascading into plot developments, especially twist revelations. Ditto: characters making mistakes because they communicate poorly. A personal pet peeve, maybe?
By the second half of Daredevil I felt like I was counting the minutes, which made me hesitant to try Jessica Jones. I don't regret it in the way I did Daredevil, with a sigh about grimdark and Marvel aesthetic and what amounts of pseudo-disability representation. But I'm not precisely happy to be here, either.
*To expand on this paragraph:
Most of the time, a poor narrative or an overused and problematic trope kindles a contrary desire in me, to imagine or see how the same could be done rightlampshaded/inverted/rewritten like the brainstorming at the end of the Tropes vs Women in Video Games series on Damsels in Distress, and what Big Windup does with miscommunication-as-plot-device, and the way that Valente's Radiance operates in the absence of its female protagonist (the literal inverse of fridging).
Because I love tropes! an idea is usually reiterated because it's in some way compelling, and a reiterated idea is powerful, even when it comes to be used as shorthand; understanding how tropes evolve helps us evolve them better, to rewrite them successfully. So when a trope pops up that I hate a lot, I feel a strong push/pullI'm so sensitive to some that they can make me actively recoil from a piece of media, even as I wonder how they could be rewritten to be better.
"Who's reliable" paranoia is one of the tropes I hate with physical passion, and Jessica Jones is chockablock full; it could be written well and in pieces is. There's a discussion half-had about the effect of trauma and the effect of mind control, that it can make people unreliable and them unable to trust. But. Combined with "unreliable because magic!drugs" and "unreliable because surprisingly stupid," and the fact that every single instance is used as a dramatic plot twist rather than to encourage thought or character development: I am recoiling so hard that I have left the possibility of brainstorming rewrites far behind me. I just want to be gone.
We Need to Talk About Kevin, film, 2011, dir. Lynne Ramsay
A necessary DNF; I remembered at the halfway mark that narratives about unwilling mothers and problem children make my skin crawl. Half of the movie is enough to get a feel for it. Swinton's performance is powerful; other characters, even eponymous Kevin, feel stiff, their functions too singular. The jumpy piecemeal narrative is stressful, but creates tension. I have no doubt that this film does what it intends, but I feel like I've encountered the same narrativeas intriguing and unsettling, as ultimately unproductivein more watchable form in Law & Order episodes, of all things. This was, intentionally, but for me fatally, unpleasant.
Hide and Seek (Amorous), film, 2015, dir. Joanna Coates
A group of young adults absent themselves from society to live in a beautiful house in the country and begin a closed poly relationshipmy perfect premise. This does every predictable thing that can be done with this setupa disruption by an outsider, the threat of monogamybut it's unique in one respect: the relationship survives. That never happens in this sort of story! It's refreshing and idyllic. Otherwise: the plot is slim, characterization thin; the acting is acceptable, but sells the awkward start better than the established relationship. The style is light, hazy, sunny, indie-artsy. This isn't a profound film, but I appreciate that it exists. And! queer representation! that isn't entirely drowned out by hetero configurations! (but is somewhat.)
Longer thoughts (crosspost): I am the ideal audience for Hide and Seek (released in America as Amorous), which is about four 20-somethings that absent themselves from society to share a bedroom and a beautiful home in the country, a premise reminiscent of Donna Tartt’s The Secret History, Tana French’s The Likeness, Gilbert Adair’s The Holy Innocents/The Dreamers, three of my favorite books; similar, also, to a number of also-favorite films that flirt around the edges of or explore polyamory and escapist relationships; firmly in the middle of the desert island paradise (discussed here) and unusually intimate relationship (discussed here) tropes that I collect.
Hide and Seek is often too familiar. It explores exactly what one would expect: What happens when an outsider comes into the mix and insists the utopia can’t hold? Does the specter of monogamy threaten the free love/polyamorous arrangement? And it does so without much other plot, which is fine, and without exploring why these four are so eager to cast off the world, which is regrettable, and without particularly defined characters or interpersonal dynamics, which is a massive oversight. The film is beautiful, in a hazy, indie way, but indistinct, passionless.
Except this: in all three above-mentioned stories, and in many others that fall into the category of “young adults rejecting society to embrace one another,” the relationship falls apart. It’s destroyed from within, or succumbs to the pressure of an outside world which refuses to be ignored. Those narratives have depth but they have their own repetition, insisting that nothing of the utopiathe isolationism, the lovecan hold. Hide and Seek threatens to crumble and then intentionally persists, ending with a predictable and yet surprisingly uncliché orgy, languorous, sensual, unstructured, with voice overs where the partners contemplate the optimistic future of their relationship. It’s not a great film, even if no one appreciates the intent more than I do. But in this one realm, in its hopefulness, it’s refreshing.
Dreamwidth entry mirror. Comment count:
.
There's something reaffirming about British reality TV. It's certainly edited for drama, as this series's Bingate proves. But it feels less exploitive and competitive, more heartfelt. This was just so lovely to watch, playful and passionate and with engaging variety. I'm not sure I'd feel the same if I watched multiple series, but all reality TV dulls with repetition. I enjoyed this for what it was, and didn't need more.
Jessica Jones, season 1, 2015
My dislike of Daredevil made me hesitant to watch this, despite positive fan response. I should have listened to my gut. It does so many things right in its depiction of rape and trauma survival, even female charactersfemale showrunners help immensely, who would have thought!and I appreciate that. But the larger story failed me: the noir/action styling is tiresome, the tie-ins to Marvel movie-verse out of place, and the plot is a string of twists motivated by unreliable characterssometimes unreliable because of Kilgrave's mind control, as often unreliable for unrelated reasons, all of it off-putting. It's not you, Marvel (okay, well, sometimes it is); it's me. This isn't my thing. (Longer thoughts on what didn't work for me here on Tumblr, crossposted below:)
I want to like Jessica Jones far more than I like Jessica Jones.
In what it does with trauma and rape I respect it immensely, despite potential quibbles on representation of therapy; what it does with gender representation, specifically the secondary role of men, I appreciate.*
But I've long grown tired of Marvel visual medialargely for reasons not represented here!which means the tie ins to the larger movieverse are unwelcome at best and skew the entire atmosphere. Daredevil felt like the odd one out but could almost be excused as a parallel superhero story; Jessica Jones makes a graceless bridge between grimdark Daredevil and quippy Avengers that makes me constantly wonder about the larger narrative and tone. I just can't see this as the same world with a big green Hulk in it, and moreover I don't want to.
And I just. don't care? about plot? I'm not fussed one way or another about characters, I appreciate the premise (and I love that the premise isn't relegated to implications but given an outspoken narrative), but. I suppose "everyone is unreliable" is the natural outcome of mind control, but it's never a tension I've particularly enjoyedand, moreover, people are sometimes unreliable because they are vulnerable but as often unreliable because they're dumb. I don't have a problem with characters making mistakes; I do have a problem with mistakes cascading into plot developments, especially twist revelations. Ditto: characters making mistakes because they communicate poorly. A personal pet peeve, maybe?
By the second half of Daredevil I felt like I was counting the minutes, which made me hesitant to try Jessica Jones. I don't regret it in the way I did Daredevil, with a sigh about grimdark and Marvel aesthetic and what amounts of pseudo-disability representation. But I'm not precisely happy to be here, either.
*To expand on this paragraph:
Most of the time, a poor narrative or an overused and problematic trope kindles a contrary desire in me, to imagine or see how the same could be done rightlampshaded/inverted/rewritten like the brainstorming at the end of the Tropes vs Women in Video Games series on Damsels in Distress, and what Big Windup does with miscommunication-as-plot-device, and the way that Valente's Radiance operates in the absence of its female protagonist (the literal inverse of fridging).
Because I love tropes! an idea is usually reiterated because it's in some way compelling, and a reiterated idea is powerful, even when it comes to be used as shorthand; understanding how tropes evolve helps us evolve them better, to rewrite them successfully. So when a trope pops up that I hate a lot, I feel a strong push/pullI'm so sensitive to some that they can make me actively recoil from a piece of media, even as I wonder how they could be rewritten to be better.
"Who's reliable" paranoia is one of the tropes I hate with physical passion, and Jessica Jones is chockablock full; it could be written well and in pieces is. There's a discussion half-had about the effect of trauma and the effect of mind control, that it can make people unreliable and them unable to trust. But. Combined with "unreliable because magic!drugs" and "unreliable because surprisingly stupid," and the fact that every single instance is used as a dramatic plot twist rather than to encourage thought or character development: I am recoiling so hard that I have left the possibility of brainstorming rewrites far behind me. I just want to be gone.
We Need to Talk About Kevin, film, 2011, dir. Lynne Ramsay
A necessary DNF; I remembered at the halfway mark that narratives about unwilling mothers and problem children make my skin crawl. Half of the movie is enough to get a feel for it. Swinton's performance is powerful; other characters, even eponymous Kevin, feel stiff, their functions too singular. The jumpy piecemeal narrative is stressful, but creates tension. I have no doubt that this film does what it intends, but I feel like I've encountered the same narrativeas intriguing and unsettling, as ultimately unproductivein more watchable form in Law & Order episodes, of all things. This was, intentionally, but for me fatally, unpleasant.
Hide and Seek (Amorous), film, 2015, dir. Joanna Coates
A group of young adults absent themselves from society to live in a beautiful house in the country and begin a closed poly relationshipmy perfect premise. This does every predictable thing that can be done with this setupa disruption by an outsider, the threat of monogamybut it's unique in one respect: the relationship survives. That never happens in this sort of story! It's refreshing and idyllic. Otherwise: the plot is slim, characterization thin; the acting is acceptable, but sells the awkward start better than the established relationship. The style is light, hazy, sunny, indie-artsy. This isn't a profound film, but I appreciate that it exists. And! queer representation! that isn't entirely drowned out by hetero configurations! (but is somewhat.)
Longer thoughts (crosspost): I am the ideal audience for Hide and Seek (released in America as Amorous), which is about four 20-somethings that absent themselves from society to share a bedroom and a beautiful home in the country, a premise reminiscent of Donna Tartt’s The Secret History, Tana French’s The Likeness, Gilbert Adair’s The Holy Innocents/The Dreamers, three of my favorite books; similar, also, to a number of also-favorite films that flirt around the edges of or explore polyamory and escapist relationships; firmly in the middle of the desert island paradise (discussed here) and unusually intimate relationship (discussed here) tropes that I collect.
Hide and Seek is often too familiar. It explores exactly what one would expect: What happens when an outsider comes into the mix and insists the utopia can’t hold? Does the specter of monogamy threaten the free love/polyamorous arrangement? And it does so without much other plot, which is fine, and without exploring why these four are so eager to cast off the world, which is regrettable, and without particularly defined characters or interpersonal dynamics, which is a massive oversight. The film is beautiful, in a hazy, indie way, but indistinct, passionless.
Except this: in all three above-mentioned stories, and in many others that fall into the category of “young adults rejecting society to embrace one another,” the relationship falls apart. It’s destroyed from within, or succumbs to the pressure of an outside world which refuses to be ignored. Those narratives have depth but they have their own repetition, insisting that nothing of the utopiathe isolationism, the lovecan hold. Hide and Seek threatens to crumble and then intentionally persists, ending with a predictable and yet surprisingly uncliché orgy, languorous, sensual, unstructured, with voice overs where the partners contemplate the optimistic future of their relationship. It’s not a great film, even if no one appreciates the intent more than I do. But in this one realm, in its hopefulness, it’s refreshing.
Dreamwidth entry mirror. Comment count:
.