The Fault with The Fault in Our Stars

WordMaster

            When I set out to read John Green’s runaway bestselling YA novel The Fault in Our Stars last year, I fully expected to adore it. I wanted to adore it. Star-crossed romance? Female protagonist? Teen fiction that actually takes its audience seriously? Glowing critical reviews that included phrases like “heartbreaking”, “brutally honest” and “tough, touching valentine to the human spirit”? It sounded right up my alley, the kind of book I’d fall in love with in a heartbeat.

            For the first few pages, it seemed promising. I enjoyed narrator Hazel Grace Lancaster’s droll tone, her scathing indictment of the weekly support group she attends to appease her mother; it’s like something from J.D. Salinger or Chuck Palahnuik – wordy, clever and cynical, even malicious, but authentically so. As it turned out, though, that was the highlight of the novel. I first felt my spirits sink when Augustus Waters appeared on the scene and Hazel observed, without a hint of irony, that “He was hot.” Not “handsome” or even the slightly more-tolerable “cute”, but hot. What’s more, the description doesn’t go any more in-depth than that, so we have to just take for granted that Augustus is as breathtakingly attractive as Hazel claims. This was probably supposed to be endearing, a reminder that although she’s diagnosed with a terminal illness, Hazel is still a regular person just like you. But for me, it was off-putting and patronizing, a grown man’s lame attempt at impersonating a stereotypical teenage girl.

            Then came the cigarette “metaphor”, which I still can’t think about without rolling my eyes because it makes no freaking sense (a metaphor is a comparison; it’s basic English, dude). And Augustus’s habit of calling Hazel “Hazel Grace”. And Hazel’s favorite book, a made-up novel called An Imperial Affliction that ends in mid-sentence for vague, profound reasons. And the dialogue loaded with periodic all-caps and words like “existentially fraught free throws” that have no business being placed in consecutive order.  And the trip to Amsterdam that culminates with Hazel and Augustus kissing in the Anne Frank house to the applause of their fellow visitors, a moment that’s supposed to be romantic and triumphant but really just comes off as manipulative and insensitive. And the scene where Hazel helps vandalize the car of a girl she’s never talked to or even met because obviously, Monica must be a heartless bitch for dumping Isaac and it can’t possibly matter what her side of the story is. And the part when Peter Van Houten inexplicably shows up in Hazel’s car and we’re not supposed to find it creepy as hell because he reveals some tragic backstory that explains his asshole behavior, except it just makes him seem more pathetic than before and I don’t even care in the first place.

            All in all, it was a colossal disappointment. There were occasional moments that I found genuinely touching, like when Hazel cringes at the painfully insincere condolence messages left behind for a deceased cancer patient, or Augustus’s sweeping declaration of his love for Hazel (Titanic and Casablanca are two of my favorite movies ever, so I have nothing against grand romantic gestures), but those were far outnumbered by the times I had to resist shutting the book out of exasperation. Still, for a while, I put off writing about it. I’ve been trying my damnedest not to be one of those narrow-minded snobs who reflexively dismisses anything aimed at teenage girls, and it’s not like I consider myself superior or more discerning for defying popular opinion; if anything, I envy the novel’s fans, since there are few things as rewarding as literature that burrows into your soul and makes you feel like a somehow wiser, fuller person.

Representation, Point-of-View and How to Fix Blockbusters

WordMaster

             One of the most common responses to women who criticize the lack of prominent, well-written female superheroes is something along the lines of: “Who cares if the main character is a man, as long as the movie is good?” Which is technically true, since movies like Citizen Kane and The Lord of the Rings aren’t any less great for revolving around rich white men (or, in the case of the latter, hobbits), and despite the growing dissatisfaction with TV antiheroes, Tony Soprano, Don Draper and Walter White will always be complex, fascinating characters.

             But as much as some people try their damnedest to ignore it or to dismiss it as irrelevant, media representation is a big deal. Consider the explanations studios use to defend their reluctance to release a mainstream superhero movie headlined by a woman:

1)      Women can’t carry movies (ahem, Sandra Bullock says hi and go fuck yourself).

2)      Women don’t go to see genre movies (indeed, every single person who’s ever gone to any sci-fi, fantasy, action or horror movie is a white male between the ages of 12-25).

3)      Catwoman and Elektra sucked, so clearly, female superhero movies just inherently suck (never mind that Daredevil and X-Men Origins: Wolverine, among others, also sucked).

4)      It’s too big of a risk (after all, The Hunger Games was a major box office bomb – almost as bad as John Carter!).

5)      There aren’t many actresses who are kick-ass enough to pull off action roles (oh, please).

            So, yes, it matters a lot. It matters because, 27 years after Sigourney Weaver vanquished a colony of aliens in James Cameron’s adrenaline-charged action classic, we shouldn’t have to tolerate these bullshit excuses anymore. It matters because we live in a world where a feature-length, live-action blockbuster centered on Aquaman seems less far-fetched than one with Wonder Woman, where we have to struggle to get Black Widow her own solo project, yet Marvel can make a movie containing a CGI raccoon with a freaking rocket launcher and no one bats an eye. It matters because at one point this year, the D.C. metropolitan area had a whopping 25 screenings of movies about women. It matters because whenever a non-white actor is cast in an even moderately high-profile role, Internet message boards are flooded with commenters fuming about how the PC police are destroying the integrity of their beloved franchise with “lazy” attempts to “diversify” (apparently, the continuity of a fictional universe matters more than any desire to break down decades of institutionalized prejudice).

Let’s not forget that time when so-called “fans” of The Hunger Games spewed racist complaints about a character that was explicitly written as black in the source material.

           Perhaps most importantly, though, it matters because, as any English teacher will tell you, point- of-view is a vital part of storytelling, if not the most vital part. After all, at their core, stories are about the journeys of characters, their efforts to complete a task, satisfy a desire or overcome an obstacle; who those characters are defines the story’s direction, tone, pacing, ideology, everything. You can’t just choose any random character to be your protagonist, and you can’t change your protagonist without completely changing the story.

The Radical and Ingenious Feminism of Gone Girl

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Summer Fodder for Bookworms

StarGazer

            

            Summer has arrived, in spirit if not in reality. It’s a season of lazy afternoons spent sipping lemonade by the swimming pool or, if you’re more like me, spent shoving handfuls of salty popcorn in your mouth while watching the latest epic blockbuster in a crowded, bustling mall theater. Summer is also that time of the year when people start looking for good beach reads. So, without further ado, here is my personal list of must-read books for anyone with a little leisure time on his or her hands:

The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien

The Plot: A fictionalized account of a group of soldiers’ experiences during the Vietnam War

Why You Should Read It: O’Brien’s book is an eye-opener, stunning in its thoughtfulness and emotional honesty and the vividness with which it depicts the realities of war. A classic of war literature.

The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold

The Plot: 14 year old Susie Salmon watches from beyond the grave as her family and friends confront the aftermath of her murder.

Why You Should Read It: Forget Peter Jackson’s failed cinematic adaptation. Alice Sebold nimbly mixes genres – horror, fantasy, domestic/family drama, mystery – and delves into the minds of her wonderfully complex and surprisingly relatable characters. Her writing lends the story a unique, ethereal beauty.

Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates

The Plot: Frank and April Wheeler dream of breaking out of their settled and seemingly idyllic yet unfulfilling lives in 1950’s suburbia.

Why You Should Read It: Richard Yate’s portrayal of suburban ennui still feels startlingly relevant, even though it was published fifty years ago. His protagonists are stubbornly flawed yet painfully, heartbreakingly empathetic, and their struggles will resonate with anyone who has ever feared that this is it.

Big If by Mark Costello

The Plot: A Secret Service agent returns to her hometown during a campaign stop for the Vice President of the United States, whom she helps protect.

Why You Should Read It: Buoyed by slick, acerbic prose and memorable characters, Costello’s part satire/part character study offers a sharp and insightful commentary on post-9/11 paranoia and disillusionment.

Dirt Music by Tim Winton

The Plot: The discontented, young housewife of a well-respected fisherman in a small Australian town becomes intrigued by a secretive but emotionally damaged loner.

Why You Should Read It: That premise likely sounds utterly dull and cliché, but trust me, this book is anything but. Tim Winton brilliantly captures both the stark, rugged beauty of the Australian landscape and the distinct culture of the people living there, and the relationships that form between the three central characters are far more nuanced and compelling than one might expect from a love-triangle romance.

   

One Day by David Nicholls

The Plot: A When Harry Met Sally-esque romance that follows the relationship between its hero and heroine as it evolves over twenty years, checking in on them on the same day each year

Why You Should Read It: It’s that rare romance that feels less like a Cinderella story and more like something that might actually happen in real life. Thanks to his witty, endlessly perceptive prose, Nicholls actually makes us care about his couple and is unafraid of showing them at their most vulnerable and desperate. One Day is as much about facing disappointment, missed opportunities and loss as it is about finding love and happiness.

 

The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

The Plot: A romance involving a man who jumps through time and the ordinary woman he falls in love with

Why You Should Read It: Yes, this is another romance, but like in One Day, the energetic, heartfelt writing elevates it far above your standard Nicholas Sparks sapfest. Henry and Clare make a thoroughly winning couple, and Niffenegger mines them for extraordinary emotional depth, turning what could have been a trite melodrama into one of the most exuberant, poignant love stories I’ve ever read.

  

The Hours by Michael Cunningham

The Plot: Three generations of women are all affected by the Virginia Woolf novel Mrs. Dalloway.

Why You Should Read It: Cunningham is a master of words, capable of transforming the most mundane acts into moments of transcendent beauty and importance. This intimate, graceful character study won the 1999 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction.

 

London Boulevard by Ken Bruen

The Plot: Just released from prison, a criminal takes a job working for a reclusive, once-great stage actresses and attempts to leave behind his violent past and his old life in London’s criminal underworld.

Why You Should Read It: Filled with idiosyncratic and delightfully memorable characters, Ken Bruen’s twisted, darkly comic take on the story from Billy Wilder’s classic film Sunset Boulevard simmers with gritty realism and zips along with exhilarating ease.

 

The Passage by Justin Cronin

The Plot: A mysterious, young girl is the possible savior of humanity after a vampire-like virus infects the human population and ends modern society as we know it.

Why You Should Read It: Epic and ambitious in scope without ever losing sight of the humans at its center, this thriller is alternately terrifying and tender. Cronin proves adept at not only juggling a vast ensemble of characters, but also at sustaining suspense over a jaw-dropping number of pages (876, to be exact); even the most seemingly tranquil moments are laced with tension. Apocalyptic fiction at its most visceral and chilling.

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro

The Plot: In a world where disease is a thing of the past, thanks to the use of clones as organ donors, three students at the elite school of Hailsham in the England countryside grow up and must face harsh truths about the nature of their existence and their future.

Why You Should Read It: Brimming with intelligence and compassion, this sci-fi coming-of-age story moves at a meditative pace that almost lulls the reader into a false sense of security before delivering an emotional gut-punch of an ending. It’s a quietly devastating read, and Ishiguro’s ideas and characters will linger in your mind long after the final page has been turned.

Let the Great World Spin by Colum McCann

The Plot: A series of vignettes and interlocking stories that all help paint a portrait of New York City in 1974, the year Philippe Petit walked across a tightrope between the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center

Why You Should Read It: McCann displays great empathy for his characters, who come from all walks of life and each manage to make an impact no matter how brief their appearance within the book is. Weaving the disparate storylines together with impressive subtlety and poise, he explores the fragility and power of human connection.

A Nicholas Sparks book by any other name…is still a Nicholas Sparks book

By StarGazer 

            Nicholas Sparks is an asshole. Yes, I said it. If you’re one of those people who swoons at the thought of Rachel McAdams and a disheveled Ryan Gosling running toward each other and embracing in the rain, I respect your opinion. Still, you should probably get out of here if you weren’t already put off by that opening remark, because I’m going to shit over something that you probably hold dear to your heart, and that’s never fun.

            Now, I normally try to refrain from judging books, movies, TV shows, etc. that I haven’t personally read or watched, and perhaps it is unclassy to essentially devote a blog post toward dissing a guy I’ve never met, but fuck it, this guy’s just begging for me to make an exception.

Also, I’ve seen The Notebook.

It’s a truly special kind of movie that makes me want to punch Ryan Gosling in the face.

            In case you’re wondering where this vitriol’s coming from, let’s note that last weekend, Hollywood decided to bombard the public with yet another blockbuster based on one of Sparks’ novels, this one starring Zac Efron and Taylor Schilling as the two blandly attractive leads. The Lucky One bowed in second place, above juggernaut The Hunger Games but below the surprise hit Think Like a Man, to decent though not spectacular numbers, suggesting that it will follow in the long string of Sparks-based movies since The Notebook to leave almost no lasting impact on greater pop culture.

            And no, I’m not here to bitch about that movie, as tempting as it is. Judging by the handful of critical reviews I read, like this one  (apparently, I like torturing and enraging myself) should I ever end up seeing The Lucky Ones, I’ll probably be yelling at the screen the entire time.

            Anyway, as I was absentmindedly surfing the ‘net, I stumbled upon this old article from USA Today on Mr. Nicholas Sparks. Written from back when Sparks was promoting The Last Song (a.k.a. the one with Miley Cyrus), this article stood out to me for a number of reasons, not least because it was one of the funniest and most infuriating things I’d read of late, and it didn't even have anything to do with that circus we call the 2012 U.S. presidential election. Among other things, Sparks compares himself to Hemingway (yes, that Hemingway), trashes pretty much universally-acknowledged modern literary great Cormac McCarthy and, when asked for his favorite tale of youth/coming of age story, cites his own book. Yet of all of Sparks’ generally asshole-ish comments, the one that particularly stuck out for me was this: “I don’t write romance novels.”

            Wait, what? No, apparently Nicholas Sparks writes “love stories”. When asked to explain the difference, he says:

“There's a difference between drama and melodrama; evoking genuine emotion, or manipulating emotion. It's a very fine eye-of-the-needle to thread. And it's very rare that it works. That's why I tend to dominate this particular genre. There is this fine line. And I do not verge into melodrama. It's all drama. I try to generate authentic emotional power.”

            Now, aside from the fact that he just implied that he dominates the romance – er, love story – genre because apparently, he’s the only writer in that genre who tries to generate authentic emotional power, he does have a bit of a point, in that there’s a distinction, however fine, between drama and melodrama. Essentially, drama refers to any event or situation that involves conflict, either between characters or through narrative tension, whereas melodrama, in the words of dictionary.com, “does not observe the laws of cause and effect and that exaggerates emotion and emphasizes plot or action at the expense of characterization.”

And this doesn’t count as melodrama…how?

In other words, in melodramas, characters simply act as props pulled along by the strings of the plot, and moreover, the plot itself is merely a series of events designed to trigger a specific emotional response.

            So, here’s what we’ve learned from Sparks: love stories = drama (i.e. genuine), romances = melodrama (i.e. artificial).

            Overlooking Nicholas Sparks’ insistence that his stories aren’t melodramatic, an assertion I think we can all agree is complete bullshit, and the fact that he seems to contradict his own definition of a romance elsewhere in the interview, what bothers me most about this whole thing is his promotion of what some call genre ghettoization, that is, the idea that genre stories have only a limited appeal and, therefore, are somehow lesser than general fiction.

            Of course, it should be acknowledged that, on some level, this is all semantics, and the boundaries of genres can be relatively flexible. The simplest definition of genre fiction is that the work appropriates or conforms to certain characteristics and tropes of a specific category of literature. So, science fiction involves imaginary but theoretically plausible concepts, such as futuristic technology, aliens, space travel, paranormal phenomena, parallel universes, etc. Fantasy uses magic, often employing make-believe worlds or fantastical creatures, and so on.

            A romance is simply a novel (or film) that focuses primarily on the romantic love and relationship shared by two people. No one is going to deny that Titanic is a romance, or Pride and Prejudice or The Great Gatsby. Ernest Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms, which Sparks cites as one of his favorite books? Romance. Another thing that no one, or at the very least, only a few people, would deny is that all of those works, plus many, many more, are classics as worthy of serious thought and praise as non-genre classics like Citizen Kane or Ulysses.

            So, why is Sparks so adamant that he writes love stories, not romance, when in reality, the two are basically two different labels for the same thing? He’s not the only person who stigmatizes genre works. It’s not so long ago when science fiction was largely consigned to pulp magazines and B-movies, despite the contributions of such celebrated authors as H.G. Wells and Isaac Asimov, among others. Fantasy used to belong to Dungeons & Dragons geeks, and even The Lord of the Rings was considered niche and dorky. The term “fanboy” still usually carries a negative, even derisive connotation.

As for romance novels, most people think of those Harlequin paperbacks with their risqué, vaguely trashy covers, referring to them as “smut”, essentially women’s pornography or erotica. Given this not-so-tasteful reputation, perhaps Nicholas Sparks might be forgiven for trying to disassociate his work from the romance label, but it might surprise you that, according to the ever-reliable Wikipedia, romance novels are the most popular genre in modern literature. The only way to erase the stigmas around the romance genre, as well as other genres, from fantasy and sci-fi to thrillers and horror, is for those who work within those genres and for those who enjoy reading them to fully embrace their status as genre fiction writers/fans and to remind people that these labels merely signify what category they belong to and have no bearing whatsoever on the quality or merits of the actual work.

Basically what I’m saying is, Nicholas Sparks, you write romance novels, whether you like it or not. And it’s okay to admit it.

 You know what isn’t okay? Using Alzheimer’s disease as a fucking plot device in your silly, cornball romance.

Sorry, I just hated that movie so much.

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Sated: Looking Back on the Hunger Games

CE Jenkins

****WARNING: Contains spoilers for the Hunger Games series. *****

As it turns out, taking a nap from 7-9pm is a terrible idea. I came to this realization at around 4:30am, after staring at the ceiling above my bed for five hours and willing myself into unconsciousness. That having failed, I settled for the next best thing other than slowing my brain’s inevitable slide into a grayish stew: reading. And that is the story on how I finished the Hunger Games trilogy.

I have to say, I profess myself disappointed. If you were to graph my enjoyment of the three books, it would look something like a skier going over a cliff. Still, in the grand scheme of things I found the series engaging and entertaining.

Let the Games Begin!

StarGazer           

          There are two names that define recent young adult literature: Harry Potter and, more irritatingly for those of us who aren’t tween girls or their middle-aged mothers, Edward Cullen (or Bella Swan, if you prefer). Now, at last, another is breaking into their ranks: a sixteen year old girl with a braid, a bow and enough spirited determination to conquer the world. Meet Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire.

           With Harry Potter having officially come to an end and the world eagerly anticipating – or dreading – the release of the last Twilight movie, Gary Ross offers us his fine cinematic adaptation of The Hunger Games. The first chapter in Suzanne Collins’ bestselling trilogy, this sci-fi thriller depicts a dystopian future where teens are forced to fight to the death by a totalitarian government. The director of Seabiscuit brings Collins’ story to life with a serious-minded verve and intelligence that distinguishes it from other young adult-oriented fare. Assembling an almost pitch-perfect cast, he treats the source material – and its fans – with a respect that feels increasingly rare in an industry that often seems to value easy money and marketability over true quality, especially when it comes to potential franchises.

           The temptation to churn out a cheap, lazy cash-grab a la the Twilight movies must’ve been there, given that audiences would’ve flocked to the theaters regardless, but the filmmakers evidently cared about the movie beyond its obvious box-office potential. They take the pulse-pounding intensity of the books and successfully translate it to the big screen, staying true in spirit but displaying a great willingness to tweak and embellish the story when necessary. Among other changes, by expanding the point of view beyond Katniss, the movie offers a wider perspective, something new that could not be found in the book. It feels like a genuine, stand-alone movie rather than a paint-by-the-numbers adaptation, a distinction that the Harry Potter movies, for all their artistic merits, never quite mastered. Aside from some memorable performances, those films never provided anything that the books didn’t. Furthermore, The Hunger Games does a good enough job of establishing its characters, story and tone internally that it should work for those coming in cold as well as long-time fans. As someone who has read the books, though, I could be drastically wrong about that last point.

          Instead of going for sweeping and epic, Ross smartly focuses on the intimate, human aspects of the story, using a sometimes shaky camera and concise editing to create an almost documentary-like feel. Though these techniques can be tiresome, they work well here and are employed only during appropriate moments, such as the initial bloodbath at the Cornucopia, rather than throughout the movie. Ross pays as much attention to the quiet scenes, such as a moment near the very beginning where Katniss comforts and sings to her younger sister Prim before leaving to hunt, as he does to the action scenes, which are sporadic and avoid self-indulgence, neither glorifying nor glossing over the violence. The music, composed by T. Bone Burnett, eschews the bombastic punk rock one might have expected in favor of a sparse, folksy vibe that reflects both the rustic simplicity of Katniss’s District 12 roots and her inner desperation as she fights for survival; a few techno beats are thrown in as well whenever the action moves to the more advanced, futuristic Capitol. The costumes and sets also help realize the world of Panem in vivid detail while lending a greater degree of believability to the more outrageous elements of Collins’s descriptions, particularly when it comes to the over-the-top fashion tastes of the Capitol residents.

           At the center of it all is Katniss Everdeen, played by a forceful but artfully restrained and nuanced Jennifer Lawrence, who appears in nearly every scene and, coupled with her Oscar-nominated performance as the similarly strong-willed and independent Ree in Winter’s Bone, is establishing herself as a consistently compelling actress and a screen presence to be reckoned with. Passionate, complex and quick-witted, Katniss is willing to do whatever it takes to protect the people she loves, even if it involves violence or means putting herself in danger, but she doesn’t descend into the emotionless, sexless (or sexed-up) killing machine cliché that seems to pass for a strong female character in action films nowadays. She’s a heroine worth rooting for.

           Though Jennifer Lawrence is undoubtedly the star of the movie, she’s joined by a host of talented, well-chosen supporting actors. As Peeta Mellark, Katniss’s fellow District 12 tribute and sort-of love interest, Josh Hutcherson displays the appropriate amounts of charisma, sensitivity and conviction; he’s come a long way since he first appeared in movies like the mostly forgettable Will Ferrell vehicle Kicking and Screaming and Zathura and continues to prove himself to be one of the most promising actors of his generation. Elizabeth Banks is almost unrecognizable under heavy, purposefully crude makeup as the shrill, peppy Effie. Woody Harrelson and Stanley Tucci are both as magnetic as always in the respective roles of Haymitch and Caesar Flickerman, host of the Hunger Games telecast.

           Movies geared toward young adults or teens tend to be dismissed as escapist, mindless fluff not worthy of more serious consideration. Though it’s hard to tell whether The Hunger Games will break this mold and be embraced as fully as the Harry Potter series was, it has an edge and intelligence that make it hard to resist. Sure, there are more pointed, hard-hitting social critiques out there, and it isn’t as bleak or gritty as some might have liked, but as engaging entertainment that doesn’t just ask viewers to turn their brains off, it more than delivers.            

Author Unknown

CE Jenkins

          Sometimes on my travels through the internet I come across something seemingly innocent that, through a sort of Ruub-Goldberg thought process of one idea pinwheeling into another, makes me pace back and forth and rant at my teddy bears for an hour and a half. But after a cooldown period of silent fuming and flash games, I think I’ve gotten to the point where I can coherently express my ideas. No promises though.

          Essentially what the offending comment implied was that artists who self promote are shallow and only in it for the attention. The issue I take with this is that it implies that if you want to be recognized for your work, you are selfish and not a real artist. So I guess all those authors and filmmakers who take credit for their pieces and make a living off of it are a bunch of dirty sellouts.

          This kind of mentality seems to run in the same vein as saying that heroes can’t take credit for their good deeds; that the satisfaction of doing something has to be enough. Anyone who stands up and sticks their name to the deed suddenly isn’t a REAL hero, just some schmuck who wants the attention. Society has this obsession with the brave knight who saves the day and then rides off into the sunset without asking for a reward. In the creative field we have a name for that kind of person: broke and undiscovered. Yes, it is wonderful to want to write or draw or cinematograph (wow, that’s actually a word) because you love doing it. That doesn’t mean it’s a sin to want people to know what you've accomplished when you're done.

          These days especially, it’s harder than ever to get exposure for your work; in the age of information, we’re so bogged down in tweets and funny cat photos to pay attention to every piece of art that flits across the screen. If artists don’t make an effort to promote themselves and make connections, it’s entirely possible that no one will ever get to see their work. While the joy of creation is great in itself, there’s nothing wrong with wanting and enjoying recognition for what you’ve done. It’s not egotistical to want other people to experience what you’ve shed blood, sweat and tears bringing into the world; otherwise what’s the point in putting it out there at all?

          I know that some people do write for themselves, and that’s perfectly fine too. Everyone has their own separate reason for doing art; but whatever an artist’s motivations may be, they don’t make the end result any less valid or beautiful. So I say, go ahead. Shout your name and novel from the highest rooftop. Title-drop in conversations. Rent a t-shirt cannon and stake out a high-traffic area. Whatever you do, do it  shamelessly. 

Film Adaptations and the Dangers Therein

CE Jenkins

Remember that time that the movie of your favorite book/sequel to your favorite movie came out? How you followed its development with excitement over the months before it hit the theatres? How you went into the film in a haze of blind faith and enthusiasm, and left the theatre with the feeling that all the good had been leached from the world and the urge to join some kind of nihilistic cult? Because I remember. Oh yes. I remember.  

Keanu 30 minutes after seeing the latest Shrek installment. Seriously guys, just let it die. Or kill it with a shovel. Either works.

Now, I’m not saying that movie adaptations are always destined to fail; some of my favorite movies are based on an original work, such as LOTR. What I am saying is that when Hollywood cooks up the movie version of a book you enjoyed, the stakes couldn’t possibly be higher for your movie-going experience. Few things hurt more than being shut in a room and forced to watch your favorite franchise defiled on a forty-foot screen for an hour and a half. Need I bring the painful memories of The Last Airbender and Eragon to mind?

I thought my heart had healed. But no, the sight of this movie poster still makes me want to gouge my eyeballs out with a plastic spoon.

But the crushing betrayal of certain failures hasn’t been enough to deter most of us from resignedly shelling out every time they club a concept over the head and drag it onto the silver screen. Somehow that tiny sliver of a chance that they might not completely butcher it is enough to make us go pay ten bucks to confirm that they did. Alright, maybe I’m being a little gloom and doom here. Like I said, good movie adaptations/sequels exist; the key is surviving all the other stuff. And even a good adaptation can be easily ruined by a slew of factors unique to films based on other work. So here are a few tips and thoughts on my process for getting the most out of your movie-adaptation experience.

·         Think of the movie and its source material as two separate entities; ideally, the filmmakers should have done so as well. Movies and books are worlds apart from each other, and the source material often requires a whole lot of translation before they’re suited for the big screen. Sometimes a scene that works great on paper just doesn’t have the same ring to it aloud; other scenes have to be modified or cut out entirely to fit the 2-hour screen life. But if you can try your best not to spend the whole time comparing the film to the original, it will make it a whole lot easier.

·         Don’t read the book/comic/whatever right before you see the movie. Preferably, you won’t have referenced the source for quite a while when the movie comes out. That way you go into the movie with a clean slate, or at least a slate that’s been smudged around a bit. Reference the source right before, and you’ll spend the whole movie thinking about how they left X out, or how they totally didn’t get what the author was going for in Y. Instead, go back to the original a bit after you’ve seen the movie and re-read it then. You’ll still pick up the parts the movie may have goofed, but it won’t be as obnoxious as having to watch them play out on the screen as you writhe in anguish in your seat.

·         Watch the previews. If it looks iffy in its two-minute incarnation, prepare yourself for more of the same when you see the movie for real. Of course, there will always be good movies with poor previews and awesome previews advertising comparatively bad movies, but they’re often a decent indication of what to expect.

·         Lower your expectations. This one is rather obvious. If you go in expecting Lord of the Rings you’re going to spend the whole movie noting every time it falls flat. If if you go in accepting the fact that the movie might not be amazing, the bad parts will be taken for granted and the good parts will redeem it. If you go in expecting The Room, then you may want to reevaluate why you’re seeing this movie in theatres.

Oh yes. That’s why.

·         Buy popcorn. Or candy. Or one of those dubious “blue-flavored” icee drinks that inevitably spill in your lap or make you need to pee really badly. The delicious(?) food will help keep you in a forgiving mood, and when you’re imagining crushing the director’s bones between your molars the crunchy popcorn helps make it more vivid.

Stop trying to convince me that blue is a legitimate flavor. I’ll still drink it anyways.

                Of course, there will always be some franchises that you’re so emotionally invested in that the most you can do is bring some ice chips to masticate and try not to rip the stuffing out of your seat every time they misquote a line. For example, if Avengers is anything less than orgasmic I will write a strongly-worded letter to Joss Whedon then wrap it around a brick and throw it through his front window. And if the Hobbit fails to make me cry my frontal lobe into a napkin at least three times, I will fly all the way to New Zealand to tipi Peter Jackson’s house. And then I will set the toilet paper on fire.

I know, I have too many movie-related-feels this year. I can’t possibly be expected to hold them all in one non-psychotic vessel.

Photo References: 

Keanu https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZtvMYJG0BW1LymRpnGBc_wgYHIDH1mGZg03qjc0bAAQRSk5eXbpUprYydiZHXFka5P8iTADv5cr3BZBeaXiIrhrLUIT8Mr7jKXLCyoBJecAFxh_L-L5BzEebU-Qs0QAA1jofcOfpzylPd/s1600/Sad-Keanu.jpg

Avatar: http://www.shockya.com/news/wp-content/uploads/lastairbenderposter4.jpg

Blue Raspberry: http://rookery1.viary.com/storagev12/557000/557031_d216_625x625.jpg

Villains

CE Jenkins

           …Are one of the most important elements in a story. In my opinion. Which is right.

When I say villains I really mean antagonists, because not every story needs a pale thin man with a goatee and a penchant for dark castles and evil laughter. But every story does need conflict of some kind, because readers are evil people who love to watch characters suffer in elaborate ways. Even in character driven stories there must be a source of inner turmoil or whatever the kids are writing these days that will lead to character development. Characters are defined by their problems, so if you don’t have a good antagonist then your story could end up as stable and coherent as a drunken one-legged tyrannosaurus.

A lot of times baddies get the short end of the stick when it comes to character development, when there’s so much potential for a stronger story with a stronger antagonist. So here are a few general tips on building a good bad guy.

Decide what kind of villain the story needs. For responsible, organized writers, this step occurs naturally when they are neatly outlining their plot. But if you write like I do, you’ll just throw in an evil space monkey that you’ll realize 30,000 words later bears an unavoidable resemblance to Mojo-Jojo. No matter how you go about it, in the end the choice is yours. There are some categories to help get you started, though:

·         Man vs. Nature- Think disasters or survival in the wilderness. May also include the drinking of one’s own piss.

·         Man vs. Man- Someone or thing out there doesn’t like your character very much. What do?

·         Man vs. Self- Whether it’s demons from your character’s past or an existential epiphany, most of the conflict in this type will take place in your protagonist’s head.

Plenty of stories have more than one of these, or even all three. We’re going to be focusing on the Man vs. Man model this time, because I don’t feel like talking about the other ones.

Once you have your villain, find out where they come from. What was their childhood like? How did they get so evil? Why do they have an irrational fear of cheese? Most people don’t wake up one day thinking, “My, I quite feel like turning evil today!” Put your villain on the couch and ask about their childhood. Just be sure you have a taser or a thick sheet of bulletproof glass between the two of you, because you know they won’t stand for that Freudian shit. You don’t have to go too far in depth in the actual story, but the key is knowing it yourself and then working it in subtly as you go. This will make your baddie feel much more rounded, and studies have shown that being hit with a Frisbee hurts less than being hit with a wrecking ball. Think of characters like Voldemort, Loki, or Darth Vader; that last one got three whole prequels dedicated to how he got so evil.

Come up with your villain’s motivations. This can go hand-in-hand with backstory, but because this is an evil post of evil we’ll just pretend that metaphor was a lot more ominous than it was. So, why does your villain what to do that wicked thing he wants to do? If you answered that question with “Because he’s evil,” take a moment to enjoy this wonderful gif I found for you: http://gifsoup.com/webroot/animatedgifs3/1290449_o.gif

You need at least a simple reason for why they do things. Otherwise it’s just silly.

Consider their personality. No matter how much backstory you give a character, you still have to pay attention to where all that history has brought them. So many villains seem to be made with the same mould; they monologue, they kill their underlings and messengers like there’s no tomorrow, and they’re always very sinister with occasional bursts of insanity to remind us how evil they are. Don’t get me wrong, I love those guys. But at the same time, it doesn’t hurt to shake things up a bit. Villains are people too, unless they’re an evil squid dragon. They still should have the courtesy of having their own individual personality, because that will make them much more interesting to read about. Grey morality and sympathetic characters are fun, but on the other end of the evil spectrum you have buds like the Emperor and Sauron, and clearly those two franchises aren’t doing too badly. So no matter how you choose to do it, make sure you make the character unique.

Lots of good stories out there have a weak or clichéd villain. It is possible to pull it off, but my question is why would you want to? Baddies are a well of awesome story devices just waiting to be mined, and if that wasn’t a mixed metaphor then I don’t know what is. So build your villains carefully, folks. That is all.