Coco

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Feast your eyes.

I’m going to keep this incredibly short, and will avoid spoilers to the best of my ability.

I have now seen this movie twice. I will probably see it again while it is still in theaters. I cannot say well enough how much this movie has affected me. I have regularly teared up while simply thinking about it. After seeing it the second time, I now find it hard to hum the central song because I start to cry. It’s really exceptionally good.

Coco is set in Mexico and the Land of the Dead over the course of Día de los Muertos. It is about a young boy named Miguel, and his relationships with his family and with his dreams. It deals with family, memory, legacy, and death—and the joys and costs of following your dreams. It is also about controlling the lives of others.

I loved damn near every minute of it. And I spent roughly the last third of the movie crying, thinking I was done crying, and then crying some more. Also laughing.

The themes of death, remembrance, legacy, and memory all resonated strongly with me. This may be because most members of my family in my grandparents’ generation are dead, and I’ve spent a good deal of time thinking of and mourning them. It didn’t hurt that the rest of the movie all sat well too.

If you’re worried about representation and appropriation, I’d like to note that Latinx critics have been relentlessly positive (*SOME SPOILERS IN THAT LINK*) about the film, and that the vast majority of the cast is Latinx (along with significant members of the writing, directing, and design staff). Honestly, it looks like Pixar has succeeded fabulously with this one. I don’t think I can recommend watching it strongly enough.

I have difficulty fathoming why Disney chose to package this film with a 25 minute Frozen short immediately preceding it, which cannot help but suffer by comparison, but I assure you that the short is worth sitting through for the sake of seeing Coco.

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In Transit

InTransit

This is a documentary by Albert Maysles (and others), covering people traveling on the Amtrak train Empire Builder (which travels from Chicago to Seattle or Portland, OR). It’s really good. Like, emotionally stirring, inspiring-as-a-piece-of-art-and-otherwise good.

Some of my appreciation for it comes from being a writer and knowing the struggle to create believably human people in media with limited resources. In Transit feels like an effortless skim across the surface of many people’s lives, but each one feels real, deep, often emotionally compelling, and always very human. Which in turn means that the editing was spectacular, because they turned disparate piecemeal vignettes into something that feels whole, and they did such a good job that it feels *natural.*

It’s a textbook example of character construction done right. But the team that made this did so many other story construction things right too, and the emotional impact was incredible and… In Transit is overwhelming, but in a good way.

When I say that the film is overwhelming, I mean that there are so many brief moments of intensely believable humanity that feel honest and wonderful and often bittersweet… so many of these moments that it’s difficult to know what to think as you leave the theater. I felt almost stunned as I walked home, and I still feel awe when I think about the movie.

In the skillful ways in which it reveals humanity with such economy of time and focus, In Transit feels like what a storyteller ought to aspire to. I would strongly recommend watching it, especially if you are in the practice of creating characters that you want to feel like real people.

If you are not in the practice of creating characters, I would strongly recommend that you watch it anyway. This movie is marvelous and moving in many unexpected ways.

The film’s site can be found here: http://www.intransitfilm.com/.

Sadly, it seems that Albert Maysles died before this was released. More details on that (and the uncertain future of the film due to rights disputes) here.

Atomic Blonde

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Convoluted, paranoia-inspiring, and extremely violent, Atomic Blonde feels like what a Bond film would be if the brutality of 2006’s Casino Royale met the conflicted and complicated world of *actual* spy fiction.

Actually, that’s a better description of the movie than I’d thought it would be. Atomic Blonde is full of gorgeously choreographed and grimly performed fight scenes (as one might expect from David Leitch, director of John Wick), and it is definitely not a film intended for a passive or unthinking audience. The underlying story is twisty, and nearly every person’s loyalty is deeply questionable, enough so that I spent a good portion of the movie not sure who was on which side; perfect, really, for this sort of spy movie. Not so good if you’re watching this thinking that you’ll have a neatly packaged Bond-esque film, but quite possibly more fun because of that.

I kind of wish that there’d been a little more in the way of clues for me to catch throughout the movie, or that I’d put together the ones that were there faster. If I had, I wouldn’t have been quite as confused in the end. But when I reflect on it, everything holds together, and I only have a deeper appreciation for what’s there.

I won’t give you any spoilers (apart from saying that if you can’t handle visceral uncomfortable violence, you probably shouldn’t watch this movie), but I will say that I rather liked Atomic Blonde. It wasn’t exactly what I’d expected, and I’m glad that it wasn’t. While I’d happily watch Charlize Theron play Bond in some sly, neatly packaged, thoroughly sanitized version of what current American moviegoers have come to think of as “a spy-action movie,” the gnawing distrust and complicated loyalties of Atomic Blonde deliver an excellent spy movie experience, and a better one than I’d thought I’d find.

Your Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman

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This movie manages to embody the tone of the central character, AND make me believe that the central character really is the Spiderman that I know and love. It’s not grim-dark, or silly (well, I mean, it *is* silly but it’s *Spiderman* silly). I really enjoyed it, and would happily watch it again. And while nothing is perfect, I felt like this movie did a wonderful job of portraying a Spiderman with hope and integrity, and without the angst that seems like such a big component of so many other Marvel movies.

I’m not saying I don’t love the angst, but there’s something refreshing about seeing Spiderman so relatively free of it. Maybe Peter will grow into it in the future, but that can take its own time.

Also, while I still want to see a Spiderman movie about Miles Morales (which the internets tell me has been teased by an easter egg I missed), I was impressed by the fact that this movie managed to feel inclusive in a way that other Marvel movies have not. Maybe I shouldn’t be that impressed. The other Marvel movies, after all, haven’t exactly been bastions of inclusion. But I was pleasantly surprised by the diversity of the movie’s high schoolers. Honestly, anything else would have been jarring, so it’s good they didn’t screw it up.

A Mental Health Day for Henry

This morning, for the first time in a long time, I paid attention to how I was feeling and decided that what I really needed to do was take a mental health day. I haven’t written anything for my creative projects today, and I’ve decided to be okay with that. That’s mostly working. I took time to socialize with a friend I haven’t hung out with for too long, and that was great. This isn’t to say that I haven’t written anything; I had a course evaluation that I was supposed to fill out last month which I finally took care of (to the tune of 1822 words, no less). And I’m writing this, here. But I’m taking a break from trying to outline interactive fiction (which is a frustrating pain in the ass), and focusing instead on giving myself a break of sorts. And that’s been pretty good.

I’ve thought, for some time, that I must have struggled with depression at some scale for a good portion of my adult life. I’ve never discussed this at length with a professional, so I’m not sure how to judge it. I think college is the first time that I can recognize what I now believe were depressive episodes. I haven’t previously given myself space to call it depression because I always figured that other people must have it worse; claiming that I suffered from depression (to any extent) seemed like it was presumptuous, claiming attention for myself that I didn’t deserve and taking it from people who *obviously* deserved it more, people who weren’t poseurs like me. After all, I was basically managing to cope, and other people seemed like they had it worse.

But that is dumb. I still don’t think I suffer as much from this as others (including a number of my friends) do, and I still don’t want to be a distraction. But I’ve abandoned my implicit assumption that this has to be a zero-sum game. Admitting that I have trouble sometimes doesn’t mean that other people who are dealing with depression (or other mental health issues) can’t get what they need. And, providing I’m not a greedy loud jerk about it, talking about it might help other people rather than suck the oxygen out of the room.

I am fortunate to have friends who talk about their own experiences with depression, and the feelings and experiences they associate with their own depressive episodes. Without them, I would not have learned to recognize my own experiences as something that merited my attention, nor would I have recognized that I could do things to head off my feelings of depression and avoid making my life worse. Listening to them talk about the ways they deal with their own feelings has helped me. It’s proof that mental health doesn’t have to be a competition (which I suppose should be obvious, despite past-Henry’s unconscious assumption).

I’m especially fortunate to have these friends because, when I recognized those twinges this morning, the habitual narrative that I’ve learned so well, I finally had the thought that maybe I should take care of myself. I’ve had a much better day because of it.

I hope I remember this for the future. I hope I can share this with others in a way that helps them too.

Miska, Chapter 4 (4/22/2017)

Here you go, the beginning of Chapter 4!

 

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Miska, Chapter 3 cont. (4/18-22/17)

Here’s the rest of chapter 3! My apologies for the delay: I’ve been distracted by wrapping my brain around interactive fiction.

The earlier bit of chapter 3 is here.

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Vicious, by V.E. Schwab

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Vicious is a book worth reading. I’d heard that I should read Victoria Schwab’s work, and that I should start here; the first point was abundantly, obviously true, and as to the second… I desperately want more, so it can’t have been that far wrong.

I don’t want to spoil any of the fun for you. But I’ve got to share some of what I loved, because there’s so much here worth admiring.

I admire how Schwab has structured her narrative. She’s done fun things with time, fun things that become obvious at the very beginning when you read the first chapter title: “Last Night.” But what has by now become a trite ploy in TV shows (and all manner of other stories) feels like the right way to tell this story. By the end of the book, it feels inevitable… and that inevitability is itself appropriate.

On top of that, her choices about how to use her narrative voice feel extremely fitting as well. I’ll leave that comment be. I think further discussion of it would risk larger spoilers.

Schwab’s character construction also deserves praise, but to tell you why they’re so wonderful, I have to tell you about Schwab’s writing itself; the joy of reading and knowing these characters owes a great deal to her prose. Often poetic, always evocative, and frequently compelling, her words drip life from the page.

This is a book I feel certain I’ll come back to. I will want to relive it, and I will want to see how Schwab managed to put it all together. There’s so much here to appreciate, so much here to admire. And there’s a great deal here from which to learn.

I strongly recommend reading this book. If your taste is anything like mine, I suspect you’ll devour it whole.

Hell Yes Roller Derby

I’ll have the next section of Chapter 3 of Miska up for you soon. But first I wanted to point out that I’ve been reading several comics about roller derby recently, and they’re all *good* comics.

Aimed at a slightly younger crowd (middle grade and up), we have Roller Girl by Victoria Jamieson. I love its depiction of pre-teen social strife and self-discovery; it feels emotionally honest in that painfully real way, without dwelling too long on any given story beat. I can see why it won the Newbery. I think what struck me most (*slight spoilers*) was the fact that Astrid doesn’t magically recover her friendship with her old best friend. There is no miraculous kiss-and-make-up to mend broken friendships, just learning from previous mistakes and trying to do better the next time around. (*end spoilers*). I like it a lot. I suspect I’ll be recommending this one to just about everybody. I’d suggest ordering from your local comics shop or bookstore.

And for slightly older readers who want more of that sweet derby fix, SLAM! is absolutely wonderful. Created by Pamela Ribon and Veronica Fish, it hits many of the same emotional notes as Roller Girl but with a slightly more mature focus, as two women struggle to learn more about who they are and who they can be. Once again, self-discovery and friendship both play an important role. But things get a little more complicated and emotionally fraught here, not least because, damn it, Pamela Ribon is cruel enough (read, deservedly confident enough) to leave the reader’s (read, my) emotions hanging in hopeful tatters between the end of one issue and the beginning of the next. You can save yourself from some of this by buying the trade copy collecting the first four issues, which I believe is coming out soon. At least you won’t be stuck at the end of issue #3, heart in your throat, waiting for #4 to come out.

Miska, Chapter 3 (4/18-22/17)

Still in need of rewrites, as per the rest of this material. I’ve fought off the temptation to edit before I post this, beyond pulling out the material I’d already struck-through back in April.

The preceding chapter starts here, and continues here and here.

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