The First English Novel

I recently reread my novella Mr. B Speaks! and, what do you know, I liked it! (This is a very useful reaction with one's own writing.)

So I have taken a "page" out of Eugene's blog and will be posting sections of Mr. B Speaks! (slightly revised) over the next few months accompanied by historical notes. These sections will appear under the MR. B SPEAKS! tab.

The story begins with Mr. B being pulled out of his novel into the "real" world to be tried for his supposed crimes as a rake. He is pulled out just after the birth of his third child. This birth is referenced in Pamela, Volume II by Samuel Richardson. Pamela, Vol. II; or Pamela's Conduct in High Life details Mr. B and Pamela's life together as a married couple while the first volume, Pamela; or Virtue Rewarded--upon which Mr. B Speaks! is based--details their courtship and first few weeks of marriage. The two books were published approximately a year apart.

Both books were wildly popular in the 18th century although the first book was more popular and lasted longer (basically, think Star Wars IV: A New Hope and Star Wars V: The Empire Strikes Back). Although Wikipedia claims Richardson wrote his classic (and currently, better-known) novel Clarissa because interest in Pamela was wavering, it would be more accurate to say Richardson wrote Clarissa because he figured out with Pamela what he was trying to do. Clarissa is more novel-like (and much, much longer) than Pamela.

However, Pamela bears the merit of being the first English romance novel and, for many people, the first full English novel, being told from a character's point of view, containing a clear plot structure (rising and falling action) and being its own reward--that is, the story is told for the sake of the story, not to support a travelogue or satire or sermon. Granted, Richardson skirts the line on the latter.

Agatha Christie was Right and So are Romance Paperbacks

In the recent BBC version of The Mystery of the Blue Train, the rogue husband of the murdered victim does NOT pursue the book's staid, grey-eyed heroine.

He does in the book.

I was disappointed by this alteration and considered it another example of how much the writers of the latest BBC Poirots don't "get" Agatha Christie. Don't get me wrong: I love the series, and some of the movies are pretty good--but like a great deal of television/movies/literary literature in the last decade, the stories are often edited to prevent the rogue from getting the girl.

Which is not in-line with Christie's vision.

It isn't that she was especially devoted to rogues. What makes her so entirely unique (and different from Marsh, who used the same romantic couple over and over and over, and from Sayers, who was only really concerned with one romantic couple) is that she believed in the individuality of love. She was willing to allow (in a very English tolerant way) that every relationship has its own vibe. Sometimes the good guy gets the good gal (4:50 to Paddington). Sometimes the adventurous guy gets the adventurous gal (Cards on the Table). Sometimes a tough strident woman gets a dreamer (Hercule Poirot's Christmas). Sometimes a passionate couple realize that they are actually also friends (Moving Finger). Sometimes the bad husband gets his wife back (Mysterious Affair at Styles). Sometimes the passionate exuberant gal really does want the limp, waffling idiot (Sittaford Mystery). Sometimes the girl-in-love-with-the-aloof-man learns to love someone more compassionate and real (Sad Cypress). Sometimes the taciturn brute gets the matter-of-fact Wren (Taken at the Flood).

And sometimes the rogue gets the princess.

I have found it downright refreshing how much the latter is allowed to happen lately, even in Disney. A perusal of teen fiction will tell you that not only is the rogue alive and well, he is flourishing, and nobody is being apologetic about it. Books like Jane by April Lindner (based on Jane Eyre) and The Hollow Kingdom by Clare Dunkle don't reform the supposed rogue-villain to be the "right kind of guy" but rather use him in all his roguery.

Now, I admit that like many people I find rogues such as stalky Edward somewhat problematic--although my problems with Twilight have always been more about the boringness of the heroine, rather than the bad-boy behavior of America's best-known vampire. However, the plot solution is for the rogue to grow up, not for the rogue to stop being himself.

The wrong solution (the rogue stops being himself or else) was one (of several) mistake made by the Buffy writers towards the end of Buffy's run: Spike is a bad-boy, ooh, we don't want to send the wrong message to teenage girls: Buffy and he mustn't have a real relationship!

Yeah, just check out the fan-fiction and see how well that little message of good behavior went across.

The truth is, a rogue without compassion and loyalty--a Flynn who actually does sail away--would be completely unappealing to any woman/human being (one hopes). But--and this is why the terribly insightful and human and well-lived/well-loved Agatha Christie rises above all other writers--creating a relationship where the gal is completely willing to take on the rogue with all his roguery . . . that works.

The solution is not to make the rogue less masculine or less clever or less edgy or less prone to hit people or less aggressive or less assertive or less insert-quality-usually-associated-with-rogues-and-men but, rather, to create couples that complement (not "compliment," as Bones points out to Booth though that is nice too) each other.

I will grant that not all writers can pull this off. Stalky Edward needs to get a new, more interesting, hobby. But some can. And nobody gets tired of it.

Which is why romance paperbacks will never, ever, ever die.

Ruminating on Animal Experimentation while Reviewing Project X

In keeping with the current list on the Mike-Kate Video Club, I recently watched Project X with Matthew Broderick (two of the films on the list star Broderick: War Games and Ferris Bueller's Day Off).

The movie surprised me, mostly for how much I got invested in the fate of the chimps.

For those of you who don't remember, the plot of Project X is that chimpanzees are being trained to fly machines, then exposed to lethal amounts of radiation to see how much longer they will keep flying. Pilot Jimmy Garrett decides to save a particular chimp, Virgil.

I should state now, upfront, that I am not opposed to animal experimentation. I think it is kind of pointless with things like cosmetics. I think it is downright meritorious with things like cancer research.

I should also state that I have never been a huge fan of anthropomorphizing animals in fiction or real life. In fiction, I run out of interest. In real life, I think it is unfair and disrespectful to the animal. A cat is a cat, not a human in fur. Chimpanzees, no matter how many genes they hold in common with humans, are chimpanzees.

By the way, the respecting-animals-for-being-animals-not-cute-humans ideology doesn't prevent me from eating steak.

So I basically anticipated that Project X would be a long screed about how bad and immoral and evil animal experimentation is blah, blah, blah. (I saw it when I was younger but had forgotten everything except that monkeys--well, chimps--were involved.)

It isn't a long screed. Yeah sure, that message is in there. But the message relies not on stoic idealists spouting their opinions but on the viewer becoming invested in the chimpanzees' fate.

This actually works. I was stunned. I was sad when Goliath died--I think I actually cried. I was worried about the chimps getting away. I wanted them to be free!

This is all due to how the story is told--from the inside out. The audience learns things as Garrett (Broderick) learns and experiences things. He gets interested in teaching Virgil. He sees the radiation test. He is uncomfortable with it. The entire story unfolds as a slow emotional web that gets you invested without telling you to get invested.

The one off-note is when Broderick tries to stop the second test (on Virgil) by breaking in on the head honchos and arguing against it. In terms of plot, the scene makes sense. Garrett isn't put forward as an orator or a protester. He just doesn't want the animal he trained to die.

And he makes the same argument that, what do ya know, Broderick's character made in War Games: "You can't compare the chimps to humans; the chimps will keep flying, but the humans won't because they will know they are going to die."

The first part of this argument is actually correct: You can't compare the reaction of chimps to humans--and a computer model quite frankly would be more effective here (computer models are used instead of animal testing quite often these days).

The second part of the argument is wrong, and it is the one false note in the movie. Well, okay, the sign language and flying-the-plane stuff is a little out there, but the movie establishes those outcomes as givens, so I accept them.

But otherwise, the chimps in the movie actually act just like chimps (and at one point, trash the lab, which is  fun). They act, in other words, like animals rather than humans.

And animals do not do well with stress. Animals do not do well with illness. Animals will die from straight shock and pain.

Humans, on the other hand, can go amazingly heroic things despite extraordinarily adverse conditions because their brains decide that they should. They keep flying because they believe they are protecting something higher (their country). They live longer because they believe they have a purpose. They fight the effects of illness because they don't want others to pay for their mistakes.

Believing that animals should be treated humanely is a civilized belief. But it immediately loses credence when people try to tell me animals are as good as or better than humans. Animals are animals, and if they were ever actually tried by the moral standards of humans, they would all be labeled psychopaths. When a young lion takes over an older lion's pack, he doesn't send the older lion to a retirement home or give it charity antelopes. He basically forces the older lion to starve itself to death.

Okay, put that in human terms and think about how it makes you feel.

Ewwww is the normal reaction.

But as animals, lions--and chimpanzees--can be utterly adorable, and Project X is a well-told story, using adorable (trained) animals, that never forgets to be a story.

I'm starting to think the 1980's has a lot to say for itself in terms of strong film narratives!

Guest Blogger: Mike Discusses The Problem With Comic Books

When first introduced to comic books, I fell in love when Marvel Comics. The series that hooked me was called "What If?" It always explored a variation on the events that had transpired in the Marvel Universe. Story-lines, such as "What if the Avengers had fought Galactus?" or "What if Wolverine became Lord of the Vampires?" were regularly explored and followed to an often tragic end. What thrilled me about these comics was how they played with an established, concrete history. I didn’t know it at the time, but what I really loved about the Marvel Universe was its incredible sense of continuity.

You would often see a character from another comic passing someone like Peter Parker or Tony Stark on the sidewalk. A little footnote below would exclaim "What is the Human Torch doing in Queens? Check out this month’s Fantastic Four for the scoop!" These characters lived in a connected world. Often a character would not be present in the book he guest-starred in because he was busy in his own comic or off teaming up with another hero. The writers seemed to realize and care about continuity, about what was happening, and when, in the world of Marvel Comics. And I was an addict.

In the last few years, this has all changed. The current head of Marvel Comics, who was hired around 10 years ago now, issued a new decree for the formerly continuity- heavy Marvel Comics: "Continuity can be ignored for the purpose of a good story." It was, for Marvel at least, a revolutionary concept. Suddenly, Spider-Man and Wolverine were EVERYWHERE. The problem is that while it worked for sales, the overall quality of the writing suffered once continuity was no longer respected. "A good story" seemed to be confused for "A story that sells like hotcakes."

Along with this sudden freedom, the comic industry also learned something evil. They realized that any time they changed the status quo, their sales picked up. Phrases like "The end of an Era!" or "The beginning of a new legacy!" began gracing the covers of more and more comics. You had Team and Roster changes, heroes donning new names and costumes, heroes dying in big, publicized events and then returning, triumphantly resurrected, having fought their way back from the grave to defend their homes. These days, heroes die all the time, and their resurrection may only be months hence.

When Captain America died a few years ago, it was a pretty big deal. The entire Marvel Universe was shaken, with every hero talking about it, going to the funeral, and dealing with the reality of emotional loss. There was an incredible mini-series published at the time--Fallen Son: The Death of Captain America--which shows different heroes, such as Iron Man, Spider-Man, and Wolverine, each dealing with a different aspect of the grieving process. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance are explored in a single issue, and it’s truly an emotional and moving book.

About a year after Cap’s death, Thor used his great power to summon the spirit of Steve Rogers and visit with him. Moved by the Captain’s sadness at the use of his death for political agendas, Thor flies into high orbit, and uses lightning to silence every satellite broadcasting coverage of the anniversary of Cap’s death for one minute. One full minute of peace for his fallen friend. Again, the story was emotionally fulfilling and moving. It brought real weight to events of a fictional world. These comics not only made me miss the Captain, but also truly appreciate what the world had become after his loss.

And then, they brought him back. "Cap isn’t dead!" they told us. "He was just lost in time! See his return in the new mini-series, 'Captain America Reborn!'"

And suddenly, those wonderful, emotionally moving, and incredibly well-written books reflecting the death of Captain America lost all significance. They were rendered obsolete. Why would someone read a reflective piece on the life and death of an individual that’s still alive?

Death in comics has become a revolving door that nearly every character will pass through, disappearing for a short time before returning completely unscathed. It’s hard for a reader such as myself to really care much these days when a traumatic event comes to pass for a beloved character. They died? Aw, they’ll be back in a few months. No big deal. The most glaring example of just how bad things are in the world of comics is that even Spider-Man’s Aunt May and Batman’s butler Alfred have both died and returned. Let’s consider this. Aunt May. Really.

I think the main problem is this: If an event has no lasting impact on the life of a character, then it is of no importance to the reader either. Continuity must not only exist, it must be respected. If an event takes place, its consequences must be real and lasting. When you remove the consequences, you remove the meaning of the event.

For continuity to truly work, and for the life, adventures, and tragedies of a character to truly matter, there must be a clear beginning, middle, and end. Not only must the end be clearly defined in relationship to events,  it must be defined in time as well. When that cycle comes to an end, you can begin another. Maybe it’s a new character; perhaps it’s the child of the hero. But the life of a fictional character, especially that of a comic character, cannot continue indefinitely as it has in the past and have any credibility or structural stability.

One of my favorite comic runs in the last few years was Joss Whedon’s Astonishing X-Men. Completely free of the continuity of the X-Men comics that were being printed at the time, Whedon's comic explored a wonderful story that touched on many classic moments of the X-Men’s past. The series, while amazing, exemplifies both the problem and the solution to Marvel's continuity chaos. The series did rely on the pasts of the X-Men featured, but while there was a clear beginning, middle and end,  it did not have a clear place in the overall continuity of the X-Men timeline.

Furthermore, while the comic featured emotional growth for many of the characters, some events were spoiled by story-line ramifications appearing in other comics published before those events happened in the main series. Many events featured in the series, such as a long awaited relationship between two characters and the "death" of a hero, have since been undone; the relationship ended, the dead resurrected. Again. Perhaps most problematic is that the series actually featured the resurrection of a long missing character. (However, the character had been out of print for some time, and his resurrection did not undo what his death had accomplished.)

Unfortunately, when continuity does appear in the Marvel Universe these days, it has no real weight. Sure, if it will help sell a comic; a hero might cross over into the big company-wide story. But often, events are written and then ignored or undone according to what the sales figures dictate.

Any event that happens in the life of a character must be true to what he has experienced before and effect what he does in the future. The story must be the most important consideration. What does this story say? What did the character learn? How did he learn or grow? Once the sales of a series outweigh the importance of the story itself, the reader suffers, and the work suffers. Strong characters deserve not only strong stories, but a strong history and complete timeline. Without these things, comics will continue as literary garbage heaps, continually piling and piling yp until the audience is drowned in useless waste.

It’s time for Marvel Comics to change. And not just another reboot like DC’s "New 52" that graced shelves in the last couple months. Restarting continuity from scratch may resolve past problems, but it will still leave writers open to future problems. Soon this new, fresh slate will become as muddled and confusing as it was before. The future of comics, and other continuity-based entertainment, lies not in it's perpetuity, but rather in its end. By introducing complete character timelines (ending with death/retirement), and perhaps redesigning each story arc to function as its own graphic novel, the integrity of the characters and the stories being told would be strengthened and reinvigorated. Instead of following a character doing the same thing over and over for years without end, future comic readers can have complete epics featuring heroes whose lives are worth caring about, remembering, and, who knows, inspiring others.

Papa Whedon's Influence

Tom Whedon became an associate/supervising producer of Golden Girls in Season 5. This is one of the best seasons of Golden Girls. It also marks a slight change in the humor used on the show. Don't get me wrong: Seasons 1-4 are funny. But Seasons 5 on have, well, that Whedon Family touch.

It's hard to explain the difference (unless you are a Joss Whedon fan), but it's the difference between the cute funniness of say, Charmed, the Thin Man dialog funniness of Bones (which I quite like), and the ultra tongue-in-cheek funniness of Buffy. Season 5 of Golden Girls gains that tongue-in-cheek edge.

For example, Rose's St. Olaf's stories, while as outrageous, become so outlandishly satirical, they catch you off guard. Here is a story from Season 3 and one from Season 5:

Rose (3.15): I remember when I was a little girl back in St. Olaf. There was this old lady who lived up the street. She never smiled. I mean, she always looked angry. The kids said she'd kill anyone who even stepped on her property. We used to call her Mean Old Lady Hickenlooper. It turns out she had no smiling muscles. I explained to her that a smile is just a frown upside down. From then on, whenever I passed by, she would stand on her head and wave . . .

Rose (5.1): You know, there are all sorts of things that people get that doctors can't diagnose. Gustav Lundqvist got sick from something mysterious, and he nearly died - well, he did die, in fact. Then at the cemetery, Beatrice Lundqvist, his wife, kept screaming, "He's alive! He's alive! I can hear him from the grave!" Well, everyone thought it was the hallucinations of a grieving widow, so they sedated her. But when she woke up from her sedation, she told them that he had said from the grave, "We never paid our '78 through '86 income taxes!" And his partner said, "Only Gustav would know that! He must be alive!" So, they all raced to the cemetery, and the entire town started digging like crazy, kneeling by the grave, using their hands even, dirt flying and Beatrice screaming. And when they opened that coffin, there he was...dead as a doornail. The point is, Gustav didn't die from his mysterious disease at all! He lived and recovered. The trouble is, he recovered while he was buried, so by the time they got to him, he'd died of suffocation. Another tragic aspect was, the IRS was waiting at the cemetery to arrest Gustav's partner, Bergstrom. So, Bergstrom killed himself right then and there, by grabbing the gun from Sheriff Tokqvist and shooting himself. What they did then was, since the grave was still open, and everyone was right there, and Gustav and Bergstrom had been partners, they put Bergstrom in with Gustav and had a double burial. Unfortunately, later they found out that Bergstrom wanted to be cremated.

The first story is funny (and silly), but the second one includes a degree of wacky irony that I've only ever seen in Son Whedon.

And I've wondered, How much was Son Whedon influenced by Papa Whedon? Or does humor just run in families? Or were Papa Whedon and Son Whedon discussing Roseanne and Golden Girls over the dinner table in 1989?

Another similarity is between Son Whedon's Buffy women and the Golden Girls (whose personalities are solidified in Season 5).

For example, Rose and Willow could be aunt and niece. They are both lovable innocents who deep-down have fiercely competitive spirits. Both may blurt out surprisingly caustic thoughts when pushed.

Blanche, more than in the other seasons, gains an Anya/Cordelia say-it-like-it-is quality in her outspokenness:

Blanche (5.2): And the thing is, after all this, I've decided not to sell my book. It's too good to sell. They can publish it after I'm dead, like Vincent van Gogh.

Dorothy: Van Gogh was a painter, Blanche.

Blanche: Whatever. It's all the same thing. We're all artists, we're all misunderstood. He cut off his hair; maybe I'll cut off mine.

Dorothy: He cut off his ear.

Blanche: [after a beat] I have too many earrings...I can trust you, Rose. You're from Minnesota. People from Minnesota are honest; they don't lie. What could you possibly find to lie about on a farm? Lots of lakes and nice pale people. Read, Rose, don't talk. [as Rose reads] I must publish a guide to go with my book: it's too full of references people could not possibly understand. It will be taught in universities.

Rose: Blanche, you are exhausted. You have to sleep.

Blanche: "To sleep, perchance to dream..." [gasps] My God, what a wonderful line! Oh! I'm getting so good, I can't stand it! I ought to write it in my book, that line. What do you think, Rose? What page are you on?

Rose: Well, to tell you the truth, Blanche, I don't understand any of this. It doesn't seem to make any sense.

Blanche: You're from Minnesota. What have you read, for God's sake? Silas Marner? Paul Bunyan? Give me back my book. This is why Hollywood won't get it, either. I won't have my words coming out of Glenn Close's mouth. I'd rather die!

Dorothy, with her sarcasm and eye-rolling competency, and tiny Sophia, with her pointed bon mots, together make the perfect mirror to Buffy!

I won't push my argument any further. It is, I will grant, something of a stretch. But you know, if the Whedons were writing clever 19th century French novels, there would be an entire subculture of literary analysis devoted to comparing father and son.

Maybe it is just as well they write for television.

Academic Spoofs in Pamela tribute, Mr. B Speaks!

Mr. B Speaks! is partly a spoof. Mr. B has to defend his marriage to Pamela against a group of academics, and I used their objections/conversation to spoof a number of silly academic ideas I've encountered as both a student and an instructor.

My primary spoof is of "just call me Gary" Gary. Gary is the type of professor who thinks he is edgy and contemporary and prides himself for climbing on the latest political bandwagon. Unfortunately, Gary is not a complete construct (an image of pompous academe rather than a representative of actual academic members). I've met Gary. The following passage from Mr. B Speaks! summarizes Gary's attitudes:

"The whole novel is nothing but trite and shallow pandering,” Gary declaimed. “What about death, disease, poverty, slavery, racism—all the terrible issues of the eighteenth century? Hmm? I mean women couldn’t even vote! But no, we’re fixated on watching an inconsequential couple tie the knot. People hid their heads in the sand. Just like they do today.”

Deborah said, “That sounds like the end of a lecture,” and Gary reddened.

Dorothy is Gary's nemesis. She is a young reviewer of romance novels, and she mirrors the attitude of a number of my young female students. They are completely blithe about their place/role in society. They don't feel put-upon. They take for granted that a woman can do whatever she wants in terms of a career/future. They don't feel the need to back "women's" issues or vote to support only female politicians.

From my point of view, the Dorothys of the world are what feminism is all about! However, someone like Gary--a chauvinist who thinks he isn't because he adopted the right "feminist" attitudes back in the 60's--the Dorothys of the world are a massive, scary threat.

Gary was trying to reprimand the young, romantic girl, Deborah. Personally, Mr. B would try flirting with her, but the man just blathered on about himself.

“So,” Mr. B heard the ridiculous man say, “I guess you’re one of those young ladies who adores authors like Jane Austen.”

“Sure,” Deborah said.

“I will grant, she is an important female writer.”

“Walter Scott believed no author matched Jane Austen at describing ordinary life and personalities.”

“Yes. Well. But won’t you admit that, despite her ability and her importance to women’s literature, Austen was mired in middle class values?”

Mr. Shorter, Mr. B's solicitor, leaned over to Mr. B and said, “What kind of gallantry is that man employing?”

“He isn’t,” Mr. B said, rubbing his temples. “He’s Polonius.”

“I like middle class values,” Deborah said.

“Of course you would say that,” the professor said in an irritated voice. Apparently, the professor didn’t like being contradicted.

And Mr. B was against female free-thinkers?

The professor said snippily, “I bet you wish you were Elizabeth, hmm, being chased by that handsome Darcy?”

“Not really,” Deborah said. “A lot of women do read books that way. And men too. Sort of what would I do? But I like to explore the author’s characterizations. Like Mr. B is way more of a homebody than most people picture him. Of course, he served in Parliament, but I think that was just out of a sense of obligation.”

Mr. Shorter snorted, but Mr. B couldn’t disagree. Except that a home without Pamela wasn’t much of a home.

“I’m sure Mr. B is quite conservative in his politics,” the professor said disdainfully.

“You could ask him,” Deborah said.

There was a short silence. Mr. B smiled to himself. The professor was a coward. He probably gravitated to female scholars because they were less trained in rhetoric and therefore easier to bully.

Deborah said, “Or Leslie Quinn. She might know.”

Some female scholars, that is. Mr. B laughed out loud. He glanced over his shoulder.

The professor was crimson. He didn’t look at Mr. B but hunched his shoulders and glared at Deborah, who was trying not to giggle. “I suppose progressive thinking is too much to ask from computer-obsessed students.”

Mr. Shorter muttered, “These Literary Fairness folks aren’t the most tolerant people.”

The "I'm pro-woman--how dare a woman contradict me with her conservative ideas!" attitude is, I'm sorry to say, real (though fading).

Leslie Quinn and Dr. Matchel (another member of the Committee for Literary Fairness) represent the two sides of Women's Studies, Dr. Matchel representing the negative or more narrow side. I'm actually kinder to her than I am to Gary because, like many disenchanted feminists, I believe that Women Studies started out with good intentions. I even believe there are decent Women Studies scholars. But the need to have an agenda/political purpose hurt more than helped that discipline.

Dr. Matchel, for example, is the kind of feminist who will support a CAUSE, no matter how very faulty, simply because it is pro-women. Thus her attitude towards Deborah--

Dr. Matchel cried, “These romance novels have done more to undermine women’s rights than any other type of literature.”

“Oh, that’s old-school,” Deborah said. “Like people who think women should only have supported Hillary in 2008.”

Again, Dr. Matchel is quite real. The above exchange is based on an actual exchange I saw on PBS during the 2008 Democratic convention.

Dr. Matchel is off-set by Leslie Quinn, who has the right academic credentials but writes for the popular rather than academic press (i.e. she actually makes money at her writing). Dr. Matchel and Gary's contempt for "popular" writers is, unfortunately, also quite real as is their discomfort with people who haven't jumped through all the right academic hoops (just recently, I've been placed in the uncomfortable position of having to defend my teaching credentials--my expertise of over five years teaching at multiple institutions--against people who automatically devalue adjuncts due to our supposed lack of education classes; yeah, that makes sense).

In the courtroom, there is also a gruff judge (who prefers murder mysteries and is only sitting in judgment on an eighteenth-century novel because so many eighteenth-century novels are under attack), a therapist (member of the Committee for Literary Fairness who wants to personalize everything), and Lonquist, a librarian. Lonquist is a member of Readers for Authorial Intent. His job is to pose (my) objections to literary revisionism. In the following exchange, the Committee for Literary Fairness wants contemporary--that is, their--standards applied to Pamela.

Gary said sullenly, “I would think some contemporary standards would be accepted as givens—in a civilized courtroom, at least.”

“Which contemporary standards?” Lonquist said. “Based on twenty-first-century Western culture, Mr. B can hardly be faulted for wanting no-strings-attached sex.”

The judge barked, “We will use the standard of customs as established in the eighteenth century. Was lesbianism a discussed topic in the literature of the day?”

Dr. Matchel said, “It was a forbidden topic that nevertheless underscored most women’s writings.”

Leslie Quinn said, “No.”

Dr. Matchel bridled. “Of course, popular non-fiction ignores such crucial subtexts.”

Leslie Quinn said good-humoredly, “Oh, I’m not saying that homosexuality wasn’t an aspect of eighteenth-century England or that people never discussed it. I just don’t think eighteenth-century literature is imbued with hidden messages about the love that dare not speak its name. People do write about other things, you know.”

“They were prejudiced,” Gary said.

“So you’ll use eighteenth-century culture to promote your position, then attack it to defend your position?”

The Committee for Literary Fairness glared at Lonquist.

The judge waved a hand, “I’m not concerned with critical theory relativism. I want to know how Mr. B behaved. Please continue, Mr. B.”

The emboldened lines (my emphasis of, um, my text) summarize my problem with most academic silliness. Dr. Matchel and "just call me Gary" Gary are less about reading--letting the characters speak--and more about promoting a particular agenda; less about falling in love with characters, lines, plots, authors, and more about promoting a particular theory which can be applied to current events. They are less about valuing interesting thoughts and ideas and more about categorizing those thoughts and ideas into appropriate, non-appropriate, acceptable, non-acceptable, profound-according-to-us, too-too reactionary categories.

Silly academics is, in other words, about anything but actual books and words.

Not every college/university in infected by this attitude and even within departments that are infected, there are always a few hold-outs. But unfortunately, the attitudes are still there to be spoofed.

I'll leave you to guess what happens to Mr. B (taking into account that I am a romantic).

Thor

So it isn't often that you put in a superhero/action movie and get Shakespeare!

At least, not lately. Actually, Shakespeare explored all the classic action plots! However, superhero/action movies these days tend to involve more bad guys v. good guys story-lines than father-son show-downs. So when I put Thor into the DVD player, the last thing I expected was King Lear with Thor taking the Edgar role and Loki taking the Edmund role.

It's a family drama!

That wasn't the first surprise. The immense Chris Hemsworth (at 6'3," he qualifies as immense) as Thor also surprised me. After all, what is Thor called upon to do or be other than immense-guy-who-smashes-things?

Okay, so the script demands that he undergo a change. At the beginning of the film he is arrogant and lordly and at the end of the film, he is sweet and down-to-earth (ha ha).

What makes Chris Hemsworth (directed by Kenneth Branagh) remarkable is that he is both arrogant/lordly and sweet/down-to-earth right from the beginning. In the beginning, he is arrogant but also guileless and charming (that smile!). At the end, he has been humbled, but he still carries himself like a king. As a result, his growth as a character is believable; as an acting feat, it is more than a little impressive.

I was also impressed by the use of Loki. At first, my reaction was "well, duh, of course Loki is the betrayer," and I was even a little miffed that the scriptwriters were being so obvious. But within thirty minutes or so, I realized that I wasn't sure what Loki would do next. Which is exactly how Loki ought to come across! He's the ultimate ambiguous character, and the writers (and Tom Hiddleston) nailed his attitudes/perspective (by the way, Branagh tends to use his own people in movies when he can; Hiddleston starred with Branagh in Wallander).

I was glad to see more of Agent Coulson whom I really like and who is in Iron Man 2 far less than I'd anticipated. Thor makes up for that lack. My favorite scene with him is when he tells Barton to wait; he wants to see what happens when Thor grips the hammer. (Marvel fans: Is Barton supposed to be the Green Arrow? Or am I getting my franchises confused?)

This brings me to the excellence of Branagh as a director. I wasn't sure if I would see any of Branagh in this movie. Although he does direct epics, they tend to be non-supernatural-elements epics, and I wasn't sure if anything of Branagh could show up in a Marvel movie.

I'm glad to say, his touch is there. Branagh's strength is his ability to pull ordinary human elements out of heroic, Shakespearean moments. Although I knew that Thor wouldn't be able to pick up the hammer (on earth) the first time, I was moved by Barton's caustic but sympathetic remarks, Coulson's willingness to wait (in the rain) for Thor to try, and ultimately, by Thor's weary disbelief at his failure to reclaim his own weapon. Likewise, Odin is fully believable in his defensiveness over Loki's pain while Thor's guilt, confusion, and love towards Loki are heart-wrenchingly authentic.

The music helps! By the way, that's Patrick Doyle whom Branagh almost always uses as his composer.

Oddly enough, the only false note is Natalie Portman. The interactions between her, Darcy, and Selvig are  natural and amusing (and Thor being tasered is one of the funniest parts of the movie), but there simply isn't enough of Thor and Jane together to merit the ending. This is actually a problem in these Marvel movies. So far, no one has really lived up to the "cool girl next door who dates the superhero" persona except Kirsten Dunst (Spiderman) who did it so effortlessly, I keep expecting her to show up again.

I'm really hoping Joss Whedon doesn't spoil the run by killing off a major character in his usual Whedon style. Take a lesson from Branagh, Joss! It is possible (and far more interesting) to create heroic moments without ending a life. (Yes, I'm glad Loki isn't dead.)

The DVD had a preview for Captain America which looks interesting. How does it compare to Iron Man and Thor?

Agatha Christie and the Nature of Evil

On his blog, Eugene argues that although there is a place in fiction for bad guys with no discernible or human motives, "corrupting [the world] using the kind of enlightened people who contribute to PBS and wouldn't be caught dead (or living dead) at McDonald's or Walmart and earnestly believe they're doing the right thing for the greater good (and for your own good) is a much more rewarding challenge."

One of the best short stories ever written about this type of internal corruption is "The Edge" by Agatha Christie. It isn't one of her mystery stories; rather, it is usually found in her ghost/occult short story anthologies and is incredibly creepy.

I will now give away the plot.

In the story, a upright, virtuous, charitable, socially respected, attractive woman, Clare, becomes downright evil.

The corruption begins when she discovers that Vivien, the wife of the man who jilted Clare, is having an affair. Clare decides not to tell him, praising herself for such disinterested goodness (it would only hurt his feelings; she would be telling him for the wrong reasons . . .). Actually, her true motive (or, at least, one of her initial motives) is a sense of power. When Vivien behaves in a catty fashion, Clare lets her know what she knows. She makes Vivien promise to give up the affair for Clare's silence.

Clare is only partly silent, however. She uses subtle, cutting remarks in social settings to remind Vivien what she knows. This goes on for years until Vivien finally persuades the husband to move away. When Clare finds out, she virtuously informs Vivien she can no longer keep silence.

"I daresay it seems very strange to you," said Clare quietly. "But [my reason] honestly is [conscience]."

Vivien's white, set face stared into hers. "I really believe you mean it, too. You actually think that's the reason."

"It is the reason."

"No, it isn't. If so, you'd have done it before. Why didn't you? I'll tell you. You got more pleasure out of holding it over me--that's why."

Despite Vivien's correct surmise, Clare holds to her intent at which point Vivien throws herself off a cliff (it sounds far more dramatic and surprising than written; in the story, Vivien's decision has a dream-like quality: she runs off waving as Clare watches stupefied). Clare goes mad.

Setting aside the initial issue--which isn't really the point--Clare's relishing of power over a single human being in a small village in England is exactly the kind of mundane, petty cruelty that can occur at the purely interpersonal level. It is remarkable storytelling--and proves that while Christie may not have gone in for long exploratory novels regarding human behavior, she certainly understood it very well.

Iron Man 2 and Character Studies

I finally saw Iron Man 2, and I was surprised at how much I enjoyed it. It was not at all what I expected.

Series action movies appear to follow a pattern. The first is the background movie, the movie that establishes the hero or heroine's context. Batman Begins, Iron Man, Spiderman, Die Hard, The Matrix, Pirates of the C, Fellowship of the Rings, Star Wars IV, Raiders of the Lost Ark, The Terminator, and Bourne Identity all establish how the main character came to be.

These first movies tend to be tighter than any of the others with strong set-ups and pay-offs. In general, not always, they tend to be the best made (though not always the most interesting).

The second movie falls into one of two categories, being either a movie with bigger guns, bigger suits, bigger action where lots and lots of stuff happens. Or a character study.

In general, I prefer character studies. And a surprising number of sequels to movies in the above list fall into that category.  Spiderman 2 is an exploration of how being a superhero affects Peter Parker's life. Empire Strikes Back is a study of Luke's fears and need to grow in the force. Bourne Supremacy is an exploration of Bourne's desire to understand, and forgive, himself. (I'm skipping The Dark Knight because I just don't know what to make of it.)

And Iron-Man 2 is an unexpected study of Tony Stark's personality. There isn't really a character arc in the sense that Tony changes, but he does come to terms with how much people in his life have tried to help him. The scene with his father (on film) is supremely touching, and Robert Downey, Jr.--like always with Stark--does an excellent job keeping the character consistent (no hugs and tears for this guy) while indicating that he has expanded in self-knowledge (there's a kind of House quality about Stark).

I was very surprised! I had expected big guns, big suits, blah, blah, blah.

Now, there are sequels which fall into the bigger guns, bigger suits, etc. category which do work. The Two Towers (non-extended) is quite a tight little film. Terminator 2 (non-extended) more than adequately continues the story (with a soupcon of character study).

However, despite Hollywood's belief that less doesn't equal more, big guns/big suits/lots of stuff happening sequels tend to be duds. Pirates II is one of the few movies in my entire life that I turned off because I was bored out of my skull. It takes a lot to bore me television/movie-wise (I can always do something else while I'm watching!). The first 45 minutes of Pirates II is shaggy dog story world, only more pointless. Stuff happens to happen. It's tedious.

Likewise, the sequel to Raiders is just a bunch of stuff happening for less than believable reasons.

I would love to say that series which use character studies as their second movie have the best shelf-life, but unfortunately, this isn't true. Star Wars plummeted into abysmality after Empire. Spiderman 3 was a terrible disappointment. On the other hand, Terminator 3, while not one of my favorite films, did hold its own, and the Die Hard series was surprisingly rejuvenated with Live Free or Die Harder. 

All I can say is, I sure hope Avengers doesn't muck up Iron Man's winning streak. (You hear me, Joss Whedon!)

Stargate: Season 6 Review

Redemption 1 & Redemption 2: Corin Nemac becomes a member of the team. The problem here is that Corin Nemac is supposed to be Daniel's replacement, but he comes off more flyboy jock than geek. Though Michael Shanks is quite buff (rather startlingly so), he always managed to project more diplomatic/investigator persona than soldier persona. Colin, on the other hand, looks like a gunny from JAG.

Still, he is a sweetie with a dry sense of humor.

Some good problems are presented. Anubis is a fairly boring bad guy, but the episode includes strong McKay-Carter interactions and a smart way to get rid of the Russian gate. (I love how the Russians would rather rent out their Stargate than fund their own program: it's so real!)

Descent: Okay underwater adventure. Like the next episode, this episode is prepping us for Stargate: Atlantis.

Frozen: And Stargate becomes the X-Files!

This was the first episode of the entire series that felt like a total non-story to me: stuff happens only for what needs to take place later on.

Nightwalkers: Adrian Cole is an interesting problem. Unfortunately, he will eventually be paid-off in a dismal fashion.

Abyss: One of my all-time, absolute favorite episodes. I love the setting (the gravity manipulation), Baal's clothes (seriously; they are incredibly sexy), and, of course, Daniel and Jack's deadpan interchanges.

The episode makes complete sense in terms of characterization. Jack isn't the ascending type. And Daniel isn't the sit-back-and-not-get-involved type. I love how it is heavily implied that Daniel helped solve the problem of getting Jack out.

Shadow Play: Another great example of Dean Stockwell's acting ability. He does an excellent job playing a non-playboy scientist.

(Even if this episode is a retelling of A Beautiful Mind. For awhile, after A Beautiful Mind came out, everybody was doing these types of episodes!)

The Other Guys: A fabulous episode! Patick McKenna and John Billingsley are hilarious. I love the Trek references though my favorite line is Jack's: "Why look everybody—he's got Coombs with him!"

I mustn't forget Felger shooting randomly when he and Coombs arrive on the ship and Coombs walking down the middle of the corridor while Felger tries to act cool by skulking in the shadows.

My only problem is that the ending implies the whole thing was a dream. According to the commentary, the events happened, just not the kiss.

Allegiance: Tok'ra and Jaffa tale. Interesting tensions are presented. There are some GREAT Jack moments which underscore his role as a natural leader. Also, Melek—a fairly interesting character—is introduced.

Cure: This episode opens with another great Jack moment. The writers are definitely compensating for the loss of Shanks by giving viewers extra-Jack.

The episode has an "ends justify the means" plot with no definitive villains. I like how the "ends" themselves are quite problematic which is very real (no such thing as utopias on Stargate).

This episode also explains the origin of the Tok'ra which is fairly interesting. The Queen of the Tok'ra is a real class act.

Prometheus: This is a conspiracy theory episode. Unfortunately, the SGC as a big secret society breaks the magic for me. A faux fun secret society like in Men in Black is one thing; a real secret society turns the good guys into people invested in protecting their specialness: erk.

But at least I now know where the spaceship—which shows up in Stargate: Atlantis—came from!

Unnatural Selection: Replicators again! At least now they have a human face, but the story is rather shaggy and depressing and obviously just done to set up problems later on.

Another Teal'c like: Ben & Jerry's!

Sight Unseen: A rehash of earlier Stargate ideas—bugs, confused civilians, otherworld devices that cause problems on earth—not all that interesting an episode.

Smoke & Mirrors: An N.I.D./Senator Kinsey episode. Great beginning! There's a nice pay-off at the end.

And I get a kick out of the continual mention of "Daniel Jackson" (yes, folks, he is coming back).

Paradise Lost: Maybourne shows up! I like how Maybourne can't stay away from the SGC. Criminals return to what they know.

Which brings up: would it really be a good idea to set Maybourne loose in the universe?

Metamorphosis: Nirrti shows up! And dies!! What a way for her to go!!!

It really is quite a good pay-off.

Disclosure: A flashback episode. Generally, I dislike these, but this one includes a nice summary/overview of the Stargate universe/mythos.

And I love the diplomacy at work: let the United States fund the intergalactic space program; they will have all the responsibility while we reap the rewards of their research! (Hmmm. Seems familiar . . .)

Forsaken: Pretty interesting problem, but, again, a rehash of a previous problem with a rather abrupt pay-off.

The Changeling: One of the best Stargate episodes ever! I love Teal'c's heroism. I love how the episode pays off with Jonas delivering similar lines to those he speaks at the beginning of the episode.

I also love how everyone plays the perfect role in T's alternate universe (of course, Jack would be fire chief!) and how Daniel is actually playing himself, ascended, as well as "the resident psychologist."

Great episode!!

Memento: Interesting look at first contact with a people who behave much like Earthlings. I admire the philosophy behind the episode (the Stargate philosophy is that exploration is better than playing it safe, no matter what the consequences). However, I wish that Kalfas hadn't been dismissed/overcome so easily. Just because we know SG-1 are the good guys (hey, we watch the show!) doesn't mean Kalfas should trust them.

Prophecy: Good episode, but it also illustrates a problem that plagues Season 6.

Jonas was brought in to replace Michael Shanks: he took Daniel Jackson's position on SG-1; he also took Michael Shank's position on the show in terms of plots/lines.

And at first, this worked, but as the season continued, Jonas needed to develop more of his own personality. This particular episode, however, was pure Daniel. Its problem is the kind of problem that would happen to Daniel, not Jonas, and Jonas behaves like Daniel, not like himself.

Naturally, it is possible that the producers knew that Michael Shanks was coming back at this point, but overall—despite some good episodes—the entire season has the feel of treading water.

Full Circle: Final episode of Season 6. Fairly good action sequence. Daniel's decision to finally, ultimately, completely interfere makes sense considering what is at stake.

And Jack gives a great line: "Personally, I think this whole 'ascension' thing is a bit overrated."

However, again, the episode is used to set up things that will happen later on. The show has become a serial.

To a degree this serial business is inevitable. Star Trek: Next Generation managed better than most shows in retaining its one plot/episode approach. Stargate post-Season 4 is something of a compromise. Like Season 5, Season 6 does offer fun/interesting/even great single episodes. But there's this feeling of madly generating story-lines to keep the viewer hooked.

Seasons 1-4 are still the best!

Update to Poirot Movies (David Suchet)

In a previous post, I reviewed David Suchet's Poirot movies (I'm a big fan of the series). Here is that list updated (there are some spoilers):

Previously Unreviewed:

Appointment with Death

Although the script takes liberties, creating new murderers (from extant characters), I didn't mind so much. For one, this particular story varies considerably between the book version and Christie's own play. For another, the new murderers make sense given the victim.

The only issue I have is, What is Tim Curry doing in this movie? His part is fairly irrelevant. I can only imagine that he offered, and the Poirot people just couldn't turn him down. I mean, would you turn down Tim Curry?

But he is the type of actor who needs to be cast completely correctly and then used completely correctly. He wasn't here.

Murder on the Orient Express

I was somewhat worried about this one. How can any version top the 1974 Albert Finney version? I think Suchet is just as good a Poirot--better in some ways. But the 1974 movie is in itself a tour de force.

The clever Poirot writers solved the problem by examining the plot from a completely new direction: are the conspirators justified? This question haunts the narrative, and Poirot is the right character to contemplate it. The result is a rather dark movie, but one that still keeps mostly to the plot.

Hallowe'en Party

A surprisingly good production with perfect casting of the Judith and Miranda characters (played by Amelia Bullmore and Mary Higgins). I also really enjoyed seeing Zoe Wannamaker again. She has great acerbic delivery.

However, the movie does indicate how/why movies develop completely different tones/auras from their books; it occurs when the movie script fails to take context into account.

In the book Halloween Party, there are a number of dead bodies. There is also a reference to a woman possibly being a lesbian.

In both cases, the material is there, but taking it out of Christie's context gives the movie an odd, unbalanced feel.  The dead bodies in the book have mostly happened in the past; there's an almost unreal quality about them (which is part of the ambiance). By constantly showing us the dead bodies, the movie becomes . . . well, kind of silly. It's one thing to have a cozy village mystery with a couple of deaths; it's another to have a cozy village mystery with people dropping like flies. It's the freaking Black Plague! It is also the reason I had to stop watching Midsomer Murders. I adore John Nettles, but the writers were killing off so many people per episode, there wasn't anyone left to blame or investigate or even care.

The second issue--the woman who might be a lesbian--appears in the book but in a comment by a teenage boy who is trying to act grown-up around Poirot. Making it a central issue in the movie was pointless.

I say this at the risk of appearing seemingly intolerant, so . . . I'll just keep going: British television is obsessed with lesbians. The current Miss Marple series has them falling out of every cupboard. And it's bad art.

It is one thing to add in a gay couple for the sake of a story; it's quite another to add them in as some kind of token gesture. The Inspector Alleyn movie Death at the Bar turns two of the main male characters into a gay couple, and it actually makes a ton of sense. The Toby Stephens' character in Five Little Pigs is portrayed as gay, and again, it makes sense (and Toby Stephens does a marvelous job conveying both his affection for the dead man and his self-contempt of what that means).

But sometimes this type of political correctness just gets silly.  It also doesn't achieve its purpose--at least with someone like me--because if so-called politically correct tolerance entails creating badly written scripts, then  it should stop. (And it's faux tolerance to begin with since no Christie movie--no movie in existence actually--can successfully represent every group/religion/political organization. The end result of so many lesbians but not, say, Mormons is to think that maybe someone in British television has an agenda. That's not tolerance; that's just annoying.)

The Clocks & Three-Act Tragedy

I combine my review of these because they are fairly boring books but fairly respectable movies. The Clocks movie does highlight one of the flaws of the Poirot movies: in an effort  to remain chronologically consistent with the series, the later books are not set in the 1950s and 1960s but in the 1940s. This is very sad since Christie did a great job "modernizing" her novel settings while her detectives remained (deliberately) the same. Miss Marple and Poirot had to adjust (with some success) to a rapidly changing culture. Great fun!

But The Clocks movie, instead of being placed in the 1960s, is placed pre-WWII, creating a bewildering change in tone from the book.

Still, the Colin and Sheila characters are done well. And the basic plot is kept which impressed me. One huge change is made to one particular character, but I'm guessing the script-writer went, "That's WAY too much of a coincidence" and left it out. I don't fault the script-writer. 

Three-Act Tragedy is extremely well-done. It is much better than the 1980's version which is so boring, I've never seen it all the way through because I fall asleep, and I am NOT the kind of person who falls asleep watching movies. So Suchet's version is a vast improvement. And Martin Shaw does a magnificent job.

So, will they do Curtain?

Prior Reviews:


Peril At End House: The first Poirot/Suchet movie keeps the order of events and the identity of the murderer. It also retains the aura and theme. It isn't the best out of the first set but worth watching.

Mysterious Affair at Styles: This is one of the few movies that actually makes more sense than the book. Mysterious Affair was Christie's first book, and it is rather difficult to follow. In general, although Christie throws out lots of red herrings, her explanations are always crystal-clear. If you have difficulty following the clues in the book, check out the movie: it helps.

The ABC Murders: The best of the first set, really excellent. It demonstrates a great appreciation for the book--everything is spot on.

Death in the Clouds: Okay, but surprisingly boring. Well, its setting revolves about tennis, so what do you expect? Doesn't play havoc with the book at least.

One, Two, Buckle My Shoe: Pretty good, but then it has the amazing Eccleston and the equally amazing Peter Blythe. It also has one of Christie's better double-identity tricks; even if you figure out the double-identity, you won't be sure what it is being used for immediately.

Hercule Poirot's Christmas: Okay, but something of a disappointment for me. This is one of my favorite books, and although the murderer's identity is kept, a missing character changes the overall aura of the piece.

Hickory Dickory Dock: One of the few movies I think is more interesting than the book. It does an excellent job retaining the aura of student life from the book plus it uses Miss Lemon absolutely correctly. Colin Firth's brother, Jonathan, stars. Yeah, that's right, the brother who WASN'T Darcy. Still, he's managed to have a fairly successful career, and there's something to be said for NOT being the typed-cast brother. For Life fans, Damian Lewis also stars and does a great job.

Murder on the Links: Well-done if a little dull. Retains both the plot and aura of the original.

Dumb Witness: Well-done if a little dull. The dog is cute.

This concludes what I think of as the first set although I believe the above movies are sold in two sets. However, there is a four-year difference between Dumb Witness and the next movie; also, the feel of the movies changes, hence the separation here between "early" films and "later" films.

The Murder of Roger Ackroyd: Not bad. The first-person voice-over differs from the book for obvious reasons. It kind of works. Basic plot points are retained. All in all, an okay production.

Lord Edgware Dies: Extremely well-done. Helen Grace as Jane Wilkinson does a superb job. Plot, murderer, and aura are all retained. The best movie since The ABC Murders.

Evil Under the Sun: Okay movie, but the femme fatale isn't done correctly. I'm not sure the writers understood Christie's character. She's supposed to be THE woman that women-love-to-hate, the bad girl who breaks up marriages except . . . strip away the glamour, and she's actually rather pitiable. For a better rendering of this character type, check out the series episode "Triangle at Rhodes."

Murder in Mesopotamia: I think I would like this movie more if it wasn't one of my favorite books. The book is told entirely from the nurse's point of view, and the nurse has a very distinct voice and perspective. She makes the book live. The movie, however, is told all from Poirot's point of view. I understand this on one level; the writers have to use the guy who is being show-cased. But it is still a disappointment. That said, the movie is worth watching. It keeps the main plot points and the aura.

Five Little Pigs: This is one of the best of the later movies. It is the most artistic of the films and effectively captures a nostalgic aura that works well with the plot. It keeps the plotting of the book as Poirot questions each "pig" in turn. There is a subtle change regarding the Philip Blake character (played by the superb Toby Stephens). However, the change actually makes sense and doesn't play havoc with Christie's text at all. The actor who plays Amyas Crale isn't at all how I see Amyas Crale physically, but he captures the character.

Sad Cypress: Overall, the plot is well-rendered. However, a major change between the book and movie tells me the writers missed the point. I discuss that change more in my post "Thoughts on Agatha Christie and Literature".

Death on the Nile: Better than the 1978 version. Plus the 2004 version has JJ Feild! It's such a sad movie, I rarely rewatch it. Plus none of the movies has my favorite line. When Jacqueline is speaking to Poirot at the end of the book, she says, "I followed a bad star," and then she mocks a line given earlier in the book: "That bad star, that bad star fall down." When I read Death on the Nile as a teenager, that line captured the essence of Jacqueline's character for me.

The Hollow: Pretty good. Like with Death on the Nile, it is missing some good lines from the book. Otherwise, the characters and plot are skillfully handled. It is also very sad. But then, so is the book!

The Mystery of the Blue Train: Not bad although I'm not as familiar with this book as the others. A romance change is made that I dislike (this becomes more common in the later movies).

Cards on the Table: Great book. So-so movie. A number of fundamentals are needlessly changed (this becomes more common in the later movies). The motive for the murder is changed but not the murderer. It kind of works.

Actually, I think the movie would be a dud if it wasn't for the awesome Zoe Wannamaker. She plays Mrs. Oliver; she doesn't look like Mrs. Oliver, but she captures her character exactly (and it's Zoe Wannamaker!). Alexander Siddig makes an appearance as Mr. Shaitana and does a great job (he also reminds you how tall he is; in Deep Space Nine, he is one over-6-foot man amongst many over-6-foot people--except for Nana Visitor).

After the Funeral: One of my favorite movies though substantial changes are made to Susannah and George's characters. I like the changes, and I don't think they undermine anything. The clever motive and clever murderer are retained, and the clever murderer is done exactly right.

Taken at the Flood: Surprisingly well-rendered. This is Christie's scary psycho piece, and Elliot Cowan as David Hunter, the psycho, is chillingly good. By the way, this movie captures Christie's ideas of emotional (and sexual) enthrallment (see my comments about Sad Cypress). A romance change is made that I regret, but I can understand why the writers did it.

Mrs. McGinty's Dead: Well-rendered. This movie also retains very funny dialog from the book. One is the argument between Mrs. Oliver and Robin about the adaptation of her books to plays (Agatha Christie used Mrs. Oliver to spout off about writing); the other is Poirot's line to a suspect: "It is amazing to me that you could be hanged because you do not pay enough attention to the things people say to you!"

Cat Among the Pigeons: I admit this is one book I would be tempted to play with if I were the writers. I have this entire subplot involving Adam and Julia. However . . . in terms of faithfulness to Christie's vision, the movie is pretty good. The plot and murderer's identity are retained but not, I think, the aura. The removal of one character kind of destroys the original feel. Also, although Harriet Walter does a magnificent job as Miss Bulstrode, I'm not sure she is the Miss Bulstrode of the book, and this kind of matters.

Third Girl: Tremendous disappointment! The movie destroys the book. The book is extremely well-plotted and very clever; the resulting movie-mess is just that: a mess. Things happen for no good reason. The new motives are slender and convoluted. The double-identity (a Christie special) is disregarded. Mrs. Oliver is misused. Doctor Stillingfleet, a very important character, is discarded. The entire ambiance as well as the book's time period have been thrown out. Jemima Rooper, who I quite like, is completely wrong for the part of Norma. The movie is a huge wreck.

I can only assume the recent Miss Marple people took over. Please, if you don't admire Christie enough to reread her books several times, savoring her plots and characters and recognizing her for the incredible craftswoman she was . . . if you are arrogant and blind enough to think you can "improve" on her plots, stop producing Christie movies!

The "Incident" Romance vs. the Relationship Romance

I am not a fan of romances which involve a series of incidents, embroiling the hero and heroine in mayhem, mischief, and miscommunication before depositing them at the altar.

This kind of romance can be entertaining. Georgette Heyer wrote a number of these adventure-type romances, and many of them are downright hilarious: Heroes pick up stray heiresses who are being chased by villainous rascals; heroines get transported to unlikely spots by dastardly rogues and are rescued by roguish, but non-dastardly, passerbys. Etc. etc. etc.

Yet even with Georgette Heyer, I get tired of all the mix-ups involving other people. I want to see the hero and heroine work together or just go somewhere and talk. It's okay to have a villain lurking in the underbrush, but I want to read about them; I don't much care about all those other people.

I recently read a romance novel--which will go unnamed--in which a hilarious debacle ensued whenever the hero and heroine were about to get together. It was the whole "this time, she'll really be upset/this time, he'll really offend her!" idea.

I didn't find it amusing. I find it amusing on Frasier because a Frasier episode is 30 minutes, there's a pay-off, and I can skip the episodes where people excessively humiliate themselves. But I don't want to read several hundred pages of the stuff. After funny-hilarious debacle #4 of the above unnamed novel, I wanted to shoot someone. WHO CARES? If these people can't work out their issues before one more crazy thing upsets them (again), they certainly shouldn't be contemplating marriage. (What? They think marriage will be easy or something?)

It reminds me of a review of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. The reviewer rolled his eyes over how, at the end, instead of laughing like adults over how they had been set up, instead of saying, "That's so great! We are so lucky to have such great friends!" the hero and heroine got offended and had to stalk off in their separate directions before fate intervened.

These people should not be getting married. What about the next time an outsider interferes? What about the next moment of miscommunication?

These types of romances remind me of an ex-college-roommate who wanted someone to buy her apartment lease. Depending on her mood, she would come home and say, "Well, my lease didn't sell. God is telling me not to leave" OR "Well, my lease didn't sell. God wants me to overcome obstacles." It never occurred to her to either just wait 4 months for the lease to be up and then move on or to try to actively get someone to move into the apartment. And I never understood why it was God's problem to begin with.

Likewise, I'm not wedded to romances that, as Eugene states in his Last Promise review, include "a medieval theme . . . of the Great Wheel of Fate. Climb aboard at the wrong instance and your life is doomed until it rolls around and rights itself. We are supposed to admire the protagonist merely for hanging on and letting go when the sunny side of life shows up like a stop on a Disneyland amusement ride."

Well, okay, we are supposed to admire the protagonist for being so plucky and attractive to the hero. And it isn't so much the lack of pro-action that bothers me but the lack of any real reason why, finally, the ride has stopped. Now, the hero and heroine will unite. Uh, yay . . . (Is it finally time?)

Give me instead a hero and heroine who fight to overcome a specific problem by making sacrifices, communicating, and learning more about each other. Sure, I know that once that specific problem is overcome, others will crop up. But at least I'm convinced that this couple will be able to handle those problems.

Guest Blogger: Mike Discusses 10 Fundamental Flaws of Wonder Woman

Not too long ago, Kate asked me to recommend some good Wonder Woman stories. As an avid comics fan, I can usually recommend dozens of different comics/graphic novels for either the hard core fan or the interested newcomer. Despite this, Kate caught me at a loss. Perhaps the most surprising thing about my inability to fulfill her request was that I was unaware of it! I believe my answer was "Oh, sure! Umm--" Right about then I realized I was in trouble.

I received a similar response from many comics fan friends. Not only were we unable to think of a defining WW run, none of us even realized it until we were asked. As we looked into the matter further, we found there is no defining WW story. For the most part, she just is, much like background noise in a phone call.

I believe, as Kate has suggested, that WW’s success really stems from the Lynda Carter television show. With a toned-down origin and clever acting, the character resonated with women of the time, enduring to this day. The resemblance of this character to the comics portrayal, however, is minimal. As she exists in the comics, WW has continually failed to be a character that fans can relate to and care about, despite having some very strong writers through the years.

Following are 10 reasons Wonder Woman is inaccessible to a larger audience. Understand that these are the views of a thirty-something married man who has read comics most of his life and not a sexist teenager flipping through comics for skin and tight costumes.

Speaking of costumes . . .

1. Wonder Woman's costume is impractical.

I know many women protest it because they feel it’s sexist. Many men support it because it’s sexy. I, however, find it completely impractical. First, it’s a glorified swimsuit. While WW is super-powered, her costume should still be designed to provide some sort of protection and cover. If she’s going to bother with boots, surely she feels SOME leg covering is needed? The breastplate itself is metal. If a hero is going to bother with armor, surely she would wear it in more than one place?

Also, the color scheme makes no sense. While this has been explained a thousand different ways, the costume was originally designed to sell comics to patriotic comics fans. But story-wise, no matter HOW you explain it, there is no reason an Amazon warrior from Greek mythology would be wearing the stars and stripes. In addition, WW’s look is not even consistent with what the other Amazons wear in the comics. All of WW’s friends wear armor and Greek-inspired dress. Surely she would too?

2. Wonder Woman lacks an understandable motive.

Wonder Women is a Greek warrior molded from clay, given life by the gods of Greek myth, and raised on an island inhabited by nothing but women. While she has been known to have a private life in "the world of man," she divides most of her time between Themyscira and whatever Justice League headquarters are being used at the time. In other words, WW is completely cut off from mortal men and women and has no relationship or understanding of them. Why would she defend them or risk exposure of her people and the existence of the Greek gods when they have gone to such lengths to be hidden for so long? Especially for a race of beings that WW has every reason to believe is beneath her?

[Note from Kate: I think a series devoted to just this problem would be very interesting! Wonder Woman has to decide between isolationism/secrecy and humanity/exposure, between demi-god aristocracy and of-the-people mediocrity/meritocracy. However, it could end with her turning her back on her origins...]

3. Wonder Woman lacks connection with humanity.

Likewise, with WW so cut off from humanity and all the cares and concerns of a mortal life, how are everyday fans expected to relate and connect to her? To be fair, some efforts have been made to give WW a secret identity and to involve her in the mortal world, but all these efforts reek of the "new girl in town" mentality and fail to really establish a connection between WW and humanity.

Wonder Women has a perfect physique, no need to work or pay the bills, and hangs out with arguably the most perfect and noble men on the planet. The closest thing to children she has is a sidekick (Wonder Girl) who operates almost completely independent of WW. As a reader, there is no "hook," nothing to make me care about the character or relate to her.

4. Wonder Woman lacks a good rival.

Wonder Women’s rogues gallery consists of Greek Gods and monsters, magic-powered villains, and totemic-powered individuals (like the Cheetah) who usually have no real reason to be robbing banks, meddling in politics, or really even trying to destroy the world. In fact, many of them share the same distance from humanity that WW herself has. Not only are none of them truly compelling, none of them provide a convincing or emotionally-fueled rivalry with WW.

5. Wonder Woman's combination of powers makes no sense.

Wonder Woman has super-strength, the enhanced senses of animals, nearly invulnerable skin, the ability to fly, and the Aphrodite-given gift of beauty (really). She also has a tiara that can be used as a boomerang-like throwing weapon, indestructible bracelets, and the lasso of truth.

I don’t even know where to start! WW being close to invulnerable would explain the skimpy costume…but if she doesn’t need armor, why does she need the bracelets? The lasso would seem to indicate that WW needs some trick to capture villains, yet she can’t leave them tied up with the lasso (it is gold, after all), and since she’s already beat them with her super strength before tying them up, why would she need a truth spell on men who already know she can kick their ass? I’m at a loss.

Not to mention, the tiara hardly seems like an accessory of someone trying to embody female empowerment.

[Note from Kate: there is a brand of feminism which touts girl-power: pinkness, Barbie, and make-up. However, WW doesn't really belong to this school of thought. Her rather odd creator was somewhat more fascinated with WW's dominatrix skills rather than her Barbie-like attributes. Still, making her a proponent of this brand of feminism would be a possible solution! If it was allowed, that is . . . see Mike's notes under 7 & 8 below.].

6. Wonder Woman’s role in the superhero community is redundant.

She’s not as strong as Superman, Super Girl, or Power Girl, and while she can be a brilliant tactician, Batman still has her beat. Although she does have a connection to magic through the Greek Gods, this is easily rivaled by Captain Marvel (SHAZAM!) or Zatana. Even as the holder of the lasso of truth, questioning prisoners for information is far easier if you just have Martian Manhunter read the villain’s mind. Essentially WW is on the team because she’s been around for a LONG time. Even as the token female on the team, there are dozens of female characters better developed, more powerful, and easier to relate to for fans than WW.

7. Wonder Women is kept from the possibility of a romance.

Writing romantic relationships for Wonder Woman is so fraught with complications, the relationships often end up either jokes or controversy. I get annoyed by the idea that a strong female must either be gay or single. Yet, I also don’t believe that a woman MUST be in a relationship to define herself. However, Wonder Woman's untouchability (as both a hero and an icon) has so politically charged her love life, there is no possible relationship that would not end with fans marching on DC Comics’ headquarters. Consequently, WW is often without a romantic interest, robbing her of yet another thing that would provide depth and humanity to the character.

8. Wonder Woman isn't allowed to change.

While DC Comics and most writers understand that Wonder Woman is flawed, the fans fight any suggestion of change. Changes need to be made, but die-hard fans become defensive at the slightest alteration and often lash out so strongly that any long term changes to the character are usually reversed within a year or less. In the last five years, Wonder Woman has been blind, worn a cape and a sword, become a secret agent in her free time, murdered a super-villain on live television, and lost her powers and role of Wonder Woman. Yet all of these plot points were soon reversed, bringing WW back to her traditional status quo.

9. Wonder Woman can never escape being Wonder Woman.

The idea of Wonder Woman proving herself to be just as good as men continually affects the quality of her books. The extent to which this issue is explored varies with the writer. However, if a writer chooses to tone down the issue, he or she draws attention to the fact, often with a line like "Oh, I don’t have to prove I’m as good as you guys. I’m worried about doing my job!" which is still a very verbal political statement about the argument! There’s no way to escape it; it’s tied to the character.

10. Ultimately, Wonder Woman's is a mass of contradictions.

She is a well-endowed, beautiful princess who runs around in a swimsuit (that barely fits her), yet the character resents the derogatory idea of being viewed as a sex symbol. She is an Amazonian Warrior that actively fights crime, sometimes with a sword, even going so far as to kill, yet she is on a mission of peace to humanity (a humanity that she has little to nothing to do with). She is a model of female empowerment in an industry where the majority of the customer base is men. She was sent to protect and care for man, yet she does not trust mankind and has little to no interaction with the everyday person. She is presented as an American Icon, wearing the red, white, and blue, yet she was raised in a religious and political culture bearing no resemblance to the American system or its religious roots as "one nation under God." Ultimately, Wonder Woman has no consistent or relevant reason for existing, no mission statement that guides the character.

While any of these reasons alone would signal trouble for a character, combined they form a picture of an outdated and poorly constructed character that is so far removed from its readers that no real bond of affection can be formed. There is, however, some good news.

Hope for Wonder Woman

In recent months, the Wonder Woman franchise has been handed to J. Michael Straczynski, the writer of Babylon 5 and the mind behind the recent comeback of Thor as well as a hugely successful Spiderman run that ran for several years. Whenever Starczynski is handed a project, his trademark is moving the character into the present, using classic and new elements to create something accessible to everyone. His Thor run is a perfect example of how well he can pull this off.

With Wonder Woman, he had A LOT of work to do. And while the public is still reeling from many of the changes, which are drastic, I can tell you the changes have addressed nearly every concern listed above. In the New Wonder Women series, time has been altered and Paradise Island has been destroyed. Diana (Wonder Woman) has been raised by refugees of the Amazon culture in the underbelly of New York. WW has become a street-wise warrior, searching to fulfill her destiny to save her people and defeat the evil that has changed her world.

My hope is that these changes will be long lasting, avoiding the normal cycle of changing things up and returning back to status quo. Wonder Woman needed some serious retooling, and it seems that it has finally happened. Here’s hoping it lasts.

[Note from Kate: Thanks for the suggestion, Mike! I have requested Straczynski's 1st volume through my local library!]

The Villainous Hero

Many romances (G, PG, and R)* include villainous heroes--these are heroes that for all intents and purposes act not too differently from the bad guy: they kidnap the heroine, occasionally threaten her, and behave ruthlessly. Oddly enough, they rarely stalk (take that, Edward!) although they aren't adverse to interfering in the heroine's life when they believe themselves justified.

Naturally, in real life, one would question the advisability of pursuing a man of this type. In fiction, however, the villainous hero can be a lot of fun.

However, even in fiction, the villainous hero can prove problematic. I've read novels where the villainous hero won my endorsement, and I've read novels where the villainous hero caused me to roll my eyes: Oh, please, how on earth is the heroine supposed to know the difference between him and the bad guy?

I think it comes down to a matter of writing. Here are characterizations that distinguish the worthwhile villainous hero from the ridiculous villainous hero:

1. The villainous hero undergoes a change.

That is, by the end of the novel, the villainous hero has recognized the inappropriateness of his earlier behavior. In Prince of Dreams (R) by Lisa Kleypas, the hero actually undergoes a Scrooge-like dream sequence which teaches him a new way of relating to others.

However, in another novel by Kleypas, Tempt Me at Twilight (R) the hero is not only the same person when the novel ends, but . . .

2. The writer acknowledges that the villainous hero should change his behavior.

. . . the writer seems to justify the villainous hero's behavior.

By the way, I do mean the writer, not the narrator. One problem with the Twilight series, as Carole points out, is that Meyers didn't seem aware that she was creating a stalky, dysfunctional hero. If she just didn't care, eh, c'est la vie (this post is for writerly reasons, not politically correct ones), but she tried to justify Edward's behavior--always a mistake.

This issue of writer disconnect also arose in Buffy where Spike was treated like a villainous hero (a character capable of change and of being loved by Buffy) by the writers who then wanted to pretend they weren't doing precisely what they were doing: "Spike's a bad guy! Girls, don't you realize how bad Spike is?!"

Once the rules are established (some vampires, like Angel, can be forgiven), writers need to keep them.

3. The villainous hero is a bad boy--but not egregiously so.

That is, his faults fall into the forgivable range (I am excluding recently souled vampires). In the above mentioned Kleypas books, the villainous hero in Prince of Dreams confronts and scares off the heroine's current boyfriend. This is bad but not unforgivable. The boyfriend is a shallow Wickham-type character. Plus, the villainous hero does the confronting himself.

In the second book, the hero scares off the heroine's current boyfriend, but the boyfriend is just a waffling putz, and the hero doesn't do the confronting himself; he manipulates events into forcing the boyfriend to retreat. Setting aside the badness of a relationship built on manipulation, it's completely underhanded and not at all heroic.

Frankly, Kleypas did a better job with this particular plot device the first time.

4. The villainous hero is more interesting than the other characters.

Part of what makes the villainous hero so much fun is his sarcastic sense of humor. (In a total aside, Britishers do this better than anybody else; in the first Pirates movie, Jack Davenport as Norrington comes across as attractive and heroic ex-boyfriend rather than baffled and bumbling ex-boyfriend precisely because of his dry sarcasm and wry raised eyebrow. At one point, after he has declared that Sparrow is a terrible pirate, Sparrow gets away. A sailor exclaims, "That is the best pirate I have ever seen!" Instead of looking embarrassed or outraged, Davenport as Norrington just looks completely miffed.)

A villainous hero who can't outwit everyone else is a dead-loss. What's he the villainous hero for?

I place Mr. B of Pamela and Mr. B Speaks! (my personal tribute) into this category. As one of my characters states, "Mr. B is a very funny guy." Without Mr. B as a sparring partner, Pamela would be a good deal less interesting and interested. (By the way, it is not necessary to read Pamela to read Mr. B Speaks! since the plot of the original novel is fully described in both. Not that I normally discourage reading classics! But the writing style of Pamela seems to put off a lot of people.)

5. The reader believes at the end that the heroine is with the right person.

To refer again to Kleypas's books, the heroine in Prince of Dreams is exactly and precisely with the right person. She is strong-minded, tough, and more than a little capable of handling the hero.

However, I doubt the heroine in Kleypas's second book, who just wants a peaceful life but ends up with an alpha-needy-dominant husband, will have everlasting happiness (by the way, I feel the same way about romances where a highly opinionated, constantly challenging-the-man, pushy heroine marries a man who really just wants some peace and quiet).

For those of you who prefer G/PG* romance novels, check out Pamela (and Mr. B Speaks!), Georgette Heyer, and, naturally, Jane Austen. Richardson is quite convincing regarding Pamela's ability to handle Mr. B. Not only do you get the impression that Pamela can handle a man approximately 9 years her senior, you also get the impression she would be bored out of her skull with anyone else.

Regarding Georgette Heyer's novels, I consider the relationship between innocent (but worldly-wise) Leonie and the cynical Duke of Avon in These Old Shades entirely believable. I'm less sold on the romantic relationship in Devil's Cub although the villainous hero Vidal does fall under the "more interesting than any other character" label.

Out of all Heyer's villainous heroes, however, Dameral of Venetia gets the prize, not for himself but for the very real friendship that develops between him and Venetia. (This is actually the direction I think Whedon's writers were taking Buffy and Spike before they shied off.)

Regarding Austen, Darcy could be described as a villainous hero (he has the dark, glowering look), but as I argue in A Man of Few Words, Darcy's supposedly villainous behavior is more cluelessness and discomfort than outright villainy. In terms of hard-to-manage heroines, I think Knightley can manage Emma but only just and only because Emma's interferences are based on good will, not merely on a sense of entitlement.

On a slight tangent: Heyer has the under-appreciated (and under-utilized) ability to make extremely laid-back, non-villainous heroes interesting in their own right. The Quiet Gentleman and Sprig Muslin come to mind.

On another slight tangent: Jane Austen should be given kudos for creating villains who seem heroic but turn out to be deadheads: Wickham, Willoughby, and (that most subtle of villains) Henry Crawford.

6. The true villain still needs to be worse! 

Moral and ethical standards should never be entirely abandoned. A heroine who marries a villain, no matter how attractive, will lose the support of the reader. "My man right or wrong" only works as long as the man is weaving his way towards the right, and "my man must be right because I love him" only works if the reader knows the heroine is correct (by getting inside the hero's head). Otherwise, the heroine will come across as a vapid moron, the hero as a scoundrel, and nobody will be respected in the morning.

*I use these ratings not because I think they actually make sense in terms of evaluating a film (or novel) but because of their colloquial meaning in everyday life. For the purposes of this blog, "R" means sex scenes are described; "PG" means they are referred to and kissing goes on; "G" means the hero and heroine kiss, that's all. However, I'm not even broaching the issue of innuendo or theme. (Such as Dracula which is "G" only in the most narrow technical sense; actually the whole crazy novel totters on the edge of "R+"--not that Bram Stoker was aware of this.) I've seen "R" movies that were incredibly "clean" in the wholesome story sense, and I've seen "PG" movies that were technically clean but totally skanky in feel. Everyone has their own line when it comes to this issue, and my designations are simply to help people find their comfort level.