Before we get started, yes I realize her name has an accent mark. I can't figure out how to do that on the computer I'm using (stupid PCs). Anyway, it's not just Beyonce I'm upset with, or more like her fans (if I was her I'd be doing the same thing, it's the response that gets me). There's a whole wave of talentless hacks out there who simply warble repeated phrases with synthesized voices. Now, I realize these people are attractive, but that's no excuse. Back in the day when you were talentless and hot you starred in an action movie, but now I've got to hear you on the radio all day instead (exception: Jessica Alba). True, there are a scarce few people who (though the style of music might not be my favorite) can actually sing, and are also good looking (Taylor Swift if you're reading this, I'm single! I'm also single if you're not reading this).
To begin with, all Beyonce does in her songs is repeat phrases. I counted in the car today, and in the song "Halo" she says the word "halo" 33 times (the things I do for my blog). That's ridiculous. And who was paid to write that song? They paid this person to write a few lines of a song, and then pull a random word out of a hat for the purpose of being repeated. It's the same thing with her song "Single Ladies" where she says "single ladies" 14 times and "if you like it you shoulda put a ring on it" 9 times. That's pretty much the whole song right there! The monotony is almost enough to hypnotize one into buying her CDs (a plausible explanation). And it's not just her, any number of artists today blare out a single word or phrase and just hit the repeat button on their larynx. Not that it hasn't always been that way to an extent, but I hate things that are about nothing. Unless it knows it's about nothing, in which case it's awesome (such as Seinfeld or "Stacy's Mom").
I also find Beyonce's songs to be obnoxious. She purports to be some sort of "strong female" in the media, but she's really just a sex symbol like anybody else. The real lyrics to one of her songs should be, "If I were a boy, I'd still have no talent, but I'd be working at McDonald's." She's made her way on her physical appearance, which is the way it works so that's fine, but don't pretend that people like you for your personality (which she severely lacks). The lynchpin of this was a song she had way back when she was still part of a group, a shout out to independent women. The song's about women who make their own way in the world, who don't need a man to support them, etc. Well that's all well and good, if you're actually one of those people (a clue: she is not). Not to say that she didn't work hard on her singing to become famous, but at the end of the day, celebrities are what we make them. She wouldn't be making any money if she didn't have the classic "women want to be her, men want to be with her" dynamic. There's no rhyme or reason to why the public latches onto certain people over others. You could have someone like Andy Warhol who continues to bring in bazillions of dollars with his painted toilet and his Campbell's soup cans, and on the other hand you've got comic books artists with actual talent who probably have to moonlight as telephone cleaners just to pay the electric bill.
Beyonce, Fergie, (who not only repeats her words, but spells them) and others like them are the poster children for a much larger societal problem. And just so I can get a shot in at the show I hate, let's call it the "Grey's Anatomy" phenomenon. Basically, people don't want any depth anymore. Even back when I was a kid, being "shallow" was a bad thing. Nowadays that's all anyone is, with rare exception. I remember a few years ago I was hearing a song recorded for babies by either Kathy Lee Gifford or Kathy Griffin (not sure which one, you can see how I'd mix them up in my mind, though they're about as similar as Mekhi Phifer and Michelle Pfeiffer) and it went like this, ahem, "Wooji wooji woo, wooji wooji woo...wooji wooji woo" for several minutes, not that they played the whole thing thankfully. Now, that was a song for babies and infants because they like repeated phrases and sounds, because it's simple enough for them to understand. But tell me, is there such a vast difference between "Wooji wooji woo" and "Shake shake, a shake shake, a shake it?" (even more ridiculous when written out isn't it?) This means that we as a society really advance very little beyond our infantile minds. As I pointed out before, everyone either loves songs that are about nothing (such as my new nemesis, "That's Not My Name") or songs that are about nothing but use big words to pretend like they're about something (30+ years of Springsteen).
Now why did I use Grey's Anatomy as an example? I will tell you exactly why. Because I hate it with a passion. Last Valentine's Day, my valentine was my hatred for Grey's Anatomy. At first I just hated it because it delayed the last five episodes of Boston Legal season 1. Then I hated it because it was narrowly beating CSI (a far superior show, superior the way Michael Jordan is better than a platypus at basketball) every week. Now I hate it because it's devolving television. Just when things were starting to look good and fiction was starting to require its viewers to think a little bit. Just when Harry Potter swooped in on his broomstick and helped to save some children from illiteracy. Just when there was some hope, stupid Grey's Anatomy comes in and gives its viewers mindless trash every week.
Although it remains a moderate hit in its own right, Lost is far and away the best show on television (I've watched tens of thousands of episodes of TV at this point, I think I know what I'm talking about). And yet, only X amount of people will remain with it to the end, because it requires you to actually use your brain. Now, as much as I love American Idol, it's really just mindless entertainment (and it is quite entertaining, not to downplay that at all). Thankfully, CSI exists. It's a show that both rewards continued viewership/attention to detail and remains accessible to people who have never seen it before. But it's the exception, because for every great show like CSI or Dollhouse (which thankfully got renewed, they must have read the blog) there are five shows that are terrible. I'm treated to this crap on every commercial break:
"Oh my god I cannot believe you slept with him!"
"Oh my god I cannot believe you slept with her!"
"Oh my god some guy is injured!"
DRAMATIC BOOM......Grey's Anatomy.
And it was all bad enough, until the newest and worst of them all came along: Lady Gaga. The fourth horseman of entertainment's apocalypse (the first three being Beyonce, Fergie, and whatever jerk invented Grey's Anatomy). At least Beyonce seems like a nice person, aside from her stupid songs that I hear over and over, I feel like if I met her in real life she'd be really nice and easy to be around. Fergie not so much, but at least her songs are nice enough at their core (obvious exception: "London Bridge"). Lady Gaga on the other hand, sings about promiscuity and drunkenness. Like there's not enough of that already. In my future book of why I need to take over the world (I am currently accepting applications for positions in my Empire) I can't decide whether I want to call it "Australian Dessert" or "Just Dance." Because that song is the epitome of our feelings today: sure there are lots of problems that need fixing, but why don't we just get drunk and dance? Because then everything will be okay.
Sigh...well, this is what happened to the Roman Empire. They started to focus more on entertainment and personal gratification than security and national interests, and we see where that got them. People need to read more, use their brains a bit, and watch some good TV. Wait for the DVD of HBO and Showtime shows if you're financially constrained, or rent them, or illegally download them for all I care! Just watch them and help save America! Because as Stephen King's immortal gunslinger phrased more eloquently than I could, "To learn what was most important to a society, first learn how they dreamed." This leaves us with some hope as the biggest movies at the box office are superhero films, but turn on the radio and this leaves us less than excited for the future. Because if our ideals are personified by the likes of Lady Gaga and Beyonce, well let's just say we might not be prepared when the Visigoths come calling.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
My 5 Favorite Villains Ever: Volume 5
Ah so, here we are at the villain who should top everyone's villain list. Before we get to that, I should mention that I've written these after I read an article in Entertainment Weekly about their top 20 heroes and top 20 villains. I thought the lists were crap. James Bond, as much as I love him, is not really a hero (certainly not number 1). Action hero? Yes. Number 1 on the list of awesome characters? Definitely. But he's an assassin, who's more interested in beating down some bad guys and sleeping with exotic women than saving the day (he saves the day because it's his job). My list of heroes will come in future posts. And their number one villain? The Wicked Witch of the West. Please. Iconic? Definitely. Scary? Not for me, but apparently for others yes. Well-developed? Hardly, all she does is cackle. She certainly has a place on the list because of her importance to film history, but when you're talking villains in terms of how iconic, well-developed, and awesome they are, there's only one man that comes to mind (although he's more machine now, than man).
1. Darth Vader from Star Wars. And for the record, I am referring to the series as a whole. I will never in my life refer to Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope as Star Wars, because George Lucas initially intended it to be Episode IV but didn't want to throw off audiences. Refer to it as Star Wars in my presence and I'll react as though you said that How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days is on the same level as The Dark Knight. Anyway, back to Vader. First off, admittedly it's an incredibly nostalgic character for me. The original trilogy was sadly before my time, so I couldn't experience it for the first time in theaters. But when my mom decided it was time for me to watch the trilogy, man I thought they were incredible. I thought they were pretty much the greatest things I'd ever seen. And when Vader's humanity shines through at the end of Episode VI, it was the first time I really felt the power of a film. To this day it still makes me cry and I've probably seen it at least 20 times. That moment is what solidifies Vader as the best villain, because in the end he wasn't a villain at all.
A lot of people hate the prequel trilogy, but I think they're excellent. Sure they're cheesy (much like the original trilogy), sure young Anakin is annoying (just like young Luke), and yeah there's Jar-jar (no excuse for that one). But you know what? The overall plot is better than the original trilogy, and the original movies are overall more charming and have a better flow, therefore I regard all six as pretty much equal (at least in how much I love them). The main point of the new movies is to showcase the fact that the whole thing is really about Vader. He, along with Obi-Wan, R2D2, and C-3PO, are the only characters in all six movies. And as the robots are comic relief and Obi-Wan is the guide, really it's about Vader's descent and subsequent salvation. In addition, there are a lot of great musical moments in the prequels which foreshadow the birth of Vader (and yes I can tell you every time Vader's Theme is played in the prequels). In fact, my love for film music really erupted when I saw Episode II, it was during the scene after Anakin kills those responsible for his mother's death. When he says, "I slaughtered them like animals, I hate them!" it blares out Vader's Theme, and man I just wanted to jump up in the theater and scream, "Did you guys hear that? That was the freaking coolest thing ever!"
Right then, enough harping on the films themselves. Vader's villainy stems from the most human of all dilemmas: love. He made a deal with the devil to save the one he loved. He always did have a bit of an ego, as in Episode II it's slightly inferred that he thinks if he ran the whole intergalactic political scene, things would be better (this is something I can understand). But he really just wanted to be with Padmé, and when that connection was threatened he took action. Aside from Hannibal (who's really just messed up in the head, although he lacks a certain human connection too even if it's never explored in the films), every other villain I've discussed suffers from this same dilemma. Michael Corleone entered the family business out of love for his father, Lex Luthor and Ben Linus were cast aside by their fathers and they try to force others to fill that gap in their lives. Anakin didn't really have a father, so his connection to his mother was strong. His first step toward the dark side was when his mother was killed. And when he thought it was all happening again with Padmé, he had to do whatever was necessary to secure her safety.
If you notice, Anakin doesn't take pleasure in carrying out his first orders from the Emperor. He convinces himself that he's getting rid of the Jedi because they're dangerous, and that he'll overthrow the Emperor later and run things properly in his place, but he really just wants to save Padmé and his unborn children. Everything else was just a lie he told himself so that he could aid in the committing of mass murder. After killing the Separatist leaders, there's a single tear on Anakin's face. He was ashamed of what he had become, but in his mind there was no other choice. However, things start to go downhill when Padmé confronts him on Mustafar (a planet that aptly looks like Hell). She sees him as the monster he's become, and he begins to choke her out of anger because he feels that she's betrayed him. In his broken mind, he had sacrificed everything for her and she was turning her back on him. He then proceeds to fight the only father he's ever had: Obi-Wan. In the aftermath of the battle, Anakin is nothing but a broken shell of a man.
Enter Lord Vader. In order to survive, Anakin is placed inside a mechanical suit, outside of which he cannot survive for long. At this point, he has become the physical representation of everything inhuman and cold. Like all great villains, his distorted soul irrevocably altered his appearance. When he arises from the operating table, the Emperor informs him that in his anger he murdered Padmé. This is of course untrue, but Vader believes him. His self-image is the single most important facet of his character. What kind of a monster murders his own wife and unborn children? Since he sees himself in this way, he has no other choice but to stand at the Emperor's side. He has nowhere else to go. Everyone needs something that keeps them going (or a quantum of solace if you will). For Bond, it's his job. For Batman, it's revenge for the death of his parents. For Vader, it was Padmé. But in the wake of her death, he had nothing left but service to the Emperor. He told himself that he couldn't be saved. So he became Darth Vader, the scourge of the galaxy. A quote from Alan Moore's Watchmen phrased a similar situation more poetically than I could, "I am a horror, amongst horrors must I dwell."
Once Episode IV hits, it's been 17 or 19 years or something. By this time, Vader has been crushing the resistance for years. Anything that was once human in him is supposedly gone at this point. He proceeds to kill his father-figure Obi-Wan in a somewhat appropriately low-key battle (appropriate since Vader doesn't view the conflict as emotionally as their conflict in Episode III. Still, the fact that Vader's Theme never plays in IV really does bother me). It would seem that his villainy is irreversible, as the machine side of him has taken over. However, in V's finale, when Vader is revealed to be Luke's father (still the coolest scene ever) we see some of that humanity start to come out. In his own way, he's reaching out to his son, trying to save him from the Empire's wrath by having him join it. He's still searching for that familial connection that he lost all those years ago in the desert when his mother died. In some ways, the connection he lost when he left his mother to become a Jedi. By the time the series has reached Episode VI, Luke is starting to get a bit darker. In addition, Vader seems more conflicted. Though he says, "It is too late for me, son" he doesn't sound too sure of himself. More than that, he sounds sad.
And then, in the finale of VI we see what are easily some of my favorite scenes ever committed to film. Vader is still trying to turn Luke to the dark side, perhaps for the aforementioned connection, perhaps because he's still following orders, or perhaps to justify his own actions years earlier. However, when Luke lays down his lightsaber upon defeating his father in battle, without the film really telling you to, you can instinctually feel the change in Vader. Then when the Emperor starts to torture Luke with the intent to kill him, Vader finally realizes that the humanity he thought had long been washed away by years of killing had still been inside of him the whole time. He picks up the Emperor and flings him right into oblivion. This action, and the previous fight, causes Vader's hybrid body to shut down. But he dies a once and future hero, and not the machine that had enslaved the galaxy for years. This transition is solidified in a controversial addition to the end of the movie, where Anakin's ghost appears as his younger self, played by Hayden Christensen. I think this is excellent, because he lives on in the afterlife in his full glory, not as the shell of his former self.
If the prequel trilogy is about doom, the original is about redemption. Luke is what his father should have been, and he thus saves the soul of his father. Love is what turned Vader, and it's what brought him back. The father saved the son from physical death because the son saved the father from spiritual death. That's beautiful. On the surface, Vader is the best villain because he has the best theme music, cool force powers, and probably the greatest voice of all time. But underneath it all, we must remember that the best villains are the ones that show us a reflection of ourselves. And Vader's story is not just recognizable in a scary way. It's also recognizable in a good way. He shows us that no matter how far you travel down the dark path, you can always turn back. Even in the most cruel villain, a shred of humanity remains. No one is truly beyond redemption, and if we can alter our opinions about ourselves we can change for the better too. If Dr. Phil or somebody says that, it sounds really cheesy and stupid. But the way it is shown throughout six movies of Star Wars is truly powerful, and it's the reason they remain some of my favorite movies of all time, and why Darth Vader remains the greatest villain of all time.
1. Darth Vader from Star Wars. And for the record, I am referring to the series as a whole. I will never in my life refer to Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope as Star Wars, because George Lucas initially intended it to be Episode IV but didn't want to throw off audiences. Refer to it as Star Wars in my presence and I'll react as though you said that How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days is on the same level as The Dark Knight. Anyway, back to Vader. First off, admittedly it's an incredibly nostalgic character for me. The original trilogy was sadly before my time, so I couldn't experience it for the first time in theaters. But when my mom decided it was time for me to watch the trilogy, man I thought they were incredible. I thought they were pretty much the greatest things I'd ever seen. And when Vader's humanity shines through at the end of Episode VI, it was the first time I really felt the power of a film. To this day it still makes me cry and I've probably seen it at least 20 times. That moment is what solidifies Vader as the best villain, because in the end he wasn't a villain at all.
A lot of people hate the prequel trilogy, but I think they're excellent. Sure they're cheesy (much like the original trilogy), sure young Anakin is annoying (just like young Luke), and yeah there's Jar-jar (no excuse for that one). But you know what? The overall plot is better than the original trilogy, and the original movies are overall more charming and have a better flow, therefore I regard all six as pretty much equal (at least in how much I love them). The main point of the new movies is to showcase the fact that the whole thing is really about Vader. He, along with Obi-Wan, R2D2, and C-3PO, are the only characters in all six movies. And as the robots are comic relief and Obi-Wan is the guide, really it's about Vader's descent and subsequent salvation. In addition, there are a lot of great musical moments in the prequels which foreshadow the birth of Vader (and yes I can tell you every time Vader's Theme is played in the prequels). In fact, my love for film music really erupted when I saw Episode II, it was during the scene after Anakin kills those responsible for his mother's death. When he says, "I slaughtered them like animals, I hate them!" it blares out Vader's Theme, and man I just wanted to jump up in the theater and scream, "Did you guys hear that? That was the freaking coolest thing ever!"
Right then, enough harping on the films themselves. Vader's villainy stems from the most human of all dilemmas: love. He made a deal with the devil to save the one he loved. He always did have a bit of an ego, as in Episode II it's slightly inferred that he thinks if he ran the whole intergalactic political scene, things would be better (this is something I can understand). But he really just wanted to be with Padmé, and when that connection was threatened he took action. Aside from Hannibal (who's really just messed up in the head, although he lacks a certain human connection too even if it's never explored in the films), every other villain I've discussed suffers from this same dilemma. Michael Corleone entered the family business out of love for his father, Lex Luthor and Ben Linus were cast aside by their fathers and they try to force others to fill that gap in their lives. Anakin didn't really have a father, so his connection to his mother was strong. His first step toward the dark side was when his mother was killed. And when he thought it was all happening again with Padmé, he had to do whatever was necessary to secure her safety.
If you notice, Anakin doesn't take pleasure in carrying out his first orders from the Emperor. He convinces himself that he's getting rid of the Jedi because they're dangerous, and that he'll overthrow the Emperor later and run things properly in his place, but he really just wants to save Padmé and his unborn children. Everything else was just a lie he told himself so that he could aid in the committing of mass murder. After killing the Separatist leaders, there's a single tear on Anakin's face. He was ashamed of what he had become, but in his mind there was no other choice. However, things start to go downhill when Padmé confronts him on Mustafar (a planet that aptly looks like Hell). She sees him as the monster he's become, and he begins to choke her out of anger because he feels that she's betrayed him. In his broken mind, he had sacrificed everything for her and she was turning her back on him. He then proceeds to fight the only father he's ever had: Obi-Wan. In the aftermath of the battle, Anakin is nothing but a broken shell of a man.
Enter Lord Vader. In order to survive, Anakin is placed inside a mechanical suit, outside of which he cannot survive for long. At this point, he has become the physical representation of everything inhuman and cold. Like all great villains, his distorted soul irrevocably altered his appearance. When he arises from the operating table, the Emperor informs him that in his anger he murdered Padmé. This is of course untrue, but Vader believes him. His self-image is the single most important facet of his character. What kind of a monster murders his own wife and unborn children? Since he sees himself in this way, he has no other choice but to stand at the Emperor's side. He has nowhere else to go. Everyone needs something that keeps them going (or a quantum of solace if you will). For Bond, it's his job. For Batman, it's revenge for the death of his parents. For Vader, it was Padmé. But in the wake of her death, he had nothing left but service to the Emperor. He told himself that he couldn't be saved. So he became Darth Vader, the scourge of the galaxy. A quote from Alan Moore's Watchmen phrased a similar situation more poetically than I could, "I am a horror, amongst horrors must I dwell."
Once Episode IV hits, it's been 17 or 19 years or something. By this time, Vader has been crushing the resistance for years. Anything that was once human in him is supposedly gone at this point. He proceeds to kill his father-figure Obi-Wan in a somewhat appropriately low-key battle (appropriate since Vader doesn't view the conflict as emotionally as their conflict in Episode III. Still, the fact that Vader's Theme never plays in IV really does bother me). It would seem that his villainy is irreversible, as the machine side of him has taken over. However, in V's finale, when Vader is revealed to be Luke's father (still the coolest scene ever) we see some of that humanity start to come out. In his own way, he's reaching out to his son, trying to save him from the Empire's wrath by having him join it. He's still searching for that familial connection that he lost all those years ago in the desert when his mother died. In some ways, the connection he lost when he left his mother to become a Jedi. By the time the series has reached Episode VI, Luke is starting to get a bit darker. In addition, Vader seems more conflicted. Though he says, "It is too late for me, son" he doesn't sound too sure of himself. More than that, he sounds sad.
And then, in the finale of VI we see what are easily some of my favorite scenes ever committed to film. Vader is still trying to turn Luke to the dark side, perhaps for the aforementioned connection, perhaps because he's still following orders, or perhaps to justify his own actions years earlier. However, when Luke lays down his lightsaber upon defeating his father in battle, without the film really telling you to, you can instinctually feel the change in Vader. Then when the Emperor starts to torture Luke with the intent to kill him, Vader finally realizes that the humanity he thought had long been washed away by years of killing had still been inside of him the whole time. He picks up the Emperor and flings him right into oblivion. This action, and the previous fight, causes Vader's hybrid body to shut down. But he dies a once and future hero, and not the machine that had enslaved the galaxy for years. This transition is solidified in a controversial addition to the end of the movie, where Anakin's ghost appears as his younger self, played by Hayden Christensen. I think this is excellent, because he lives on in the afterlife in his full glory, not as the shell of his former self.
If the prequel trilogy is about doom, the original is about redemption. Luke is what his father should have been, and he thus saves the soul of his father. Love is what turned Vader, and it's what brought him back. The father saved the son from physical death because the son saved the father from spiritual death. That's beautiful. On the surface, Vader is the best villain because he has the best theme music, cool force powers, and probably the greatest voice of all time. But underneath it all, we must remember that the best villains are the ones that show us a reflection of ourselves. And Vader's story is not just recognizable in a scary way. It's also recognizable in a good way. He shows us that no matter how far you travel down the dark path, you can always turn back. Even in the most cruel villain, a shred of humanity remains. No one is truly beyond redemption, and if we can alter our opinions about ourselves we can change for the better too. If Dr. Phil or somebody says that, it sounds really cheesy and stupid. But the way it is shown throughout six movies of Star Wars is truly powerful, and it's the reason they remain some of my favorite movies of all time, and why Darth Vader remains the greatest villain of all time.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
My 5 Favorite Villains Ever: Volume 4
Truth be told, I was strongly considering listing this villain as number 1, but the nostalgia of my number 1 is just too powerful. So anyway, adding onto what I was saying in my last villain post, I think television is a great opportunity to heavily change a character over time. This becomes especially interesting with a well-developed villain. We are able to see him on every step of his descent, and we are saddened when we see his humanity shine through, because his fall into darkness is inevitable. I would really like to do an almost episode-by-episode analysis of the character (maybe I will someday) but I’ll do my best to condense it into a few paragraphs here.
2. Lex Luthor from Smallville. I know, crazy right? Domenic’s number 2 villain of all time is on a WB/CW show? The same network that brought you such teenagery (should be a word) trash as Gossip Girl and One Tree Hill? That network? Yes indeed, I kid you not. While the show is mainly about Clark Kent becoming Superman, and I love that, the best part of the show for me was always the Lex story. Because we know why Superman does what he does, he’s Superman! He’s everything we want to be, but Lex in many ways is everything that we are. What could drive a man to attack Earth’s savior? As Chloe herself stated on the show, “Lack of love Clark, some say that’s the definition of true evil.”
Lex is a man who envies. As I’ve stated before, I like when a show or a movie tells you everything you need to know about a character with just one shot. This moment for Lex came on a relatively generic first season episode of the show, something about a hostage situation and Clark and Lex were stuck inside, I don’t quite remember. Anyway, when they’re rescued at the end, Clark is embraced by his parents while Lex looks on from afar. Even though his friendship with Clark wouldn’t end for another few seasons, and he wouldn’t ultimately become a villain for a few seasons after that, it is in this moment that we completely understand why he ends up on the path of the adversary. He wants everything that Clark has, especially a loving family. Lex’s mother died when he was young, and his father is a twisted and evil man. Much like Benjamin Linus, Lex is an unwanted child. He was made bald at nine years old by the meteor shower that brought Clark to Earth. Thus, his father Lionel Luthor saw him as a crippled and imperfect son; hardly the worthy successor to the Luthor empire. In addition, Lex’s little brother (the good son that Lionel had lost in Lex) died as a baby and Lex was blamed for it, further placing the mark of Cain upon his forehead in Lionel’s eyes.
This distorted upbringing is especially sad when considering that Clark is who he is because of his parents. If the two boys had been raised by the opposite families, perhaps Lex would be saving the world from Clark. Without getting into too much detail, as it would take a long time (well, seven seasons) to fully explain Lex’s transformation, suffice it to say that everyone he cared about turned their backs on him. Above and beyond, Lex wanted to be a hero. To gain the love and admiration of the Earth, in order to make up for the love he didn’t receive from his family or his friends. And yet it seems that the Earth doesn’t want him. In other incarnations of the character, once Clark is Superman, he’s the hero Earth wants. Lex sees himself as the savior of mankind, and he sees Clark as a threat to humanity. This started to come out near the end of the seventh season, when Lex tries to kill Clark in order to save the world. Which is a valid complaint when you think about it, if Superman was anything but the nicest guy of all time, he would be a monumental threat. And what’s stopping him from becoming selfish or vengeful? Maybe not much; as the Joker reminds us, all it takes is a little push.
Of course, many of the major steps on his journey toward villainy could only happen within a sci-fi setting. However, they point to very human desires and issues. There are quite a few of these but I'll highlight a couple of key moments. In season 4 the two sides of his personality are split into two different people. We all have these two sides of ourselves, and we all fear that the wrong one will win out in the end. As Lionel tells Lex at the end of the episode, “A man can’t deny his true nature Lex. We’re Luthors, son. We’re Luthors.” Lex’s knowledge of this side of himself is part of what makes him give in to that side. In the sixth season, he is married to Lana Lang for a brief time. She marries him partially because she is pregnant with his child. In what seemed on the surface like a silly, soap opera-esque plot twist, it turns out she wasn’t really pregnant and it was all a trick to get her to marry him. Upon thinking on this further, haven’t we all done things to try to secure the love of another? Not as crazy and sci-fi as what Lex did, but similar things. He really did love her, and he was afraid she wouldn’t love him in return so he tried to give her a reason to be closer to him. Who among us can’t understand loneliness?
Like many good villains, Lex sees himself as the hero. But he feels that he must do extreme or even harmful things to accomplish his goal of saving the world. His final descent comes near the end of season seven, and it is when (a slightly reformed) Lionel stands in the way of Lex’s goal. Lex murders him. Lionel was an evil man, who had murdered his own parents to start his empire. And yet, Lex’s similar actions make him even worse than Lionel ever was, as we see in other versions of the Superman mythos. Though it’s sad and hard to watch at times, this is my favorite episode of the series. The opening scene between Lex and Lionel that ends with the tragic patricide is incredibly well done and is the unavoidable conclusion of the entire series’ conflict between the two. Sure, you could say that Lionel held back the key to Lex’s quest to save mankind, and that’s why he killed him. But the real reason is that Lex had wanted to kill his father for a long time, because his father didn’t love him. Is it really such a crime to desire a father’s love or a friend’s support? Lex has been left behind by everyone he ever cared about and it made him a cold man. Can any of us really say we’d act differently in his position? The transformation is solidified in the episode when Lex’s inner child appears to him in a dreamlike sequence, representing his last shred of humanity. Lex drags the boy into the fireplace and thrusts him into the fire, while exclaiming “you make me weak.” With all the things he did, he could still have turned back. But he destroyed himself and any chance at redemption he might have once had. The saddest part is, in his mind he did it in order to help people. He thinks he has to be a monster to fight monsters.
There is a common misconception of the comic book genre, as well as the sci-fi genre. Yes, on the surface the Batman series is about a guy who dresses up in a silly costume and beats up other people in silly costumes. But it’s really a deeply psychological tale about a man who’s still just a scared little boy in an alley, crying over his parents dead bodies. He never really left that alley. And you could say that the Star Trek series is just a bunch of silliness about flying around in space. But the people are really just looking for themselves out on that final frontier. They’re in a crucible the size of the universe itself. So even though Lex’s descent is marked by clones, aliens, and superpowers, the real story is about a little boy who grew up unwanted by even his own father. A boy who wants to save the world, but the world wants someone else. A boy who would be more than content to live and die on a farm in Smallville, Kansas, but has sadly been exiled from any such hopes or dreams. Lex’s story is one that we all must heed, because we could become him; and more importantly, we could create him.
2. Lex Luthor from Smallville. I know, crazy right? Domenic’s number 2 villain of all time is on a WB/CW show? The same network that brought you such teenagery (should be a word) trash as Gossip Girl and One Tree Hill? That network? Yes indeed, I kid you not. While the show is mainly about Clark Kent becoming Superman, and I love that, the best part of the show for me was always the Lex story. Because we know why Superman does what he does, he’s Superman! He’s everything we want to be, but Lex in many ways is everything that we are. What could drive a man to attack Earth’s savior? As Chloe herself stated on the show, “Lack of love Clark, some say that’s the definition of true evil.”
Lex is a man who envies. As I’ve stated before, I like when a show or a movie tells you everything you need to know about a character with just one shot. This moment for Lex came on a relatively generic first season episode of the show, something about a hostage situation and Clark and Lex were stuck inside, I don’t quite remember. Anyway, when they’re rescued at the end, Clark is embraced by his parents while Lex looks on from afar. Even though his friendship with Clark wouldn’t end for another few seasons, and he wouldn’t ultimately become a villain for a few seasons after that, it is in this moment that we completely understand why he ends up on the path of the adversary. He wants everything that Clark has, especially a loving family. Lex’s mother died when he was young, and his father is a twisted and evil man. Much like Benjamin Linus, Lex is an unwanted child. He was made bald at nine years old by the meteor shower that brought Clark to Earth. Thus, his father Lionel Luthor saw him as a crippled and imperfect son; hardly the worthy successor to the Luthor empire. In addition, Lex’s little brother (the good son that Lionel had lost in Lex) died as a baby and Lex was blamed for it, further placing the mark of Cain upon his forehead in Lionel’s eyes.
This distorted upbringing is especially sad when considering that Clark is who he is because of his parents. If the two boys had been raised by the opposite families, perhaps Lex would be saving the world from Clark. Without getting into too much detail, as it would take a long time (well, seven seasons) to fully explain Lex’s transformation, suffice it to say that everyone he cared about turned their backs on him. Above and beyond, Lex wanted to be a hero. To gain the love and admiration of the Earth, in order to make up for the love he didn’t receive from his family or his friends. And yet it seems that the Earth doesn’t want him. In other incarnations of the character, once Clark is Superman, he’s the hero Earth wants. Lex sees himself as the savior of mankind, and he sees Clark as a threat to humanity. This started to come out near the end of the seventh season, when Lex tries to kill Clark in order to save the world. Which is a valid complaint when you think about it, if Superman was anything but the nicest guy of all time, he would be a monumental threat. And what’s stopping him from becoming selfish or vengeful? Maybe not much; as the Joker reminds us, all it takes is a little push.
Of course, many of the major steps on his journey toward villainy could only happen within a sci-fi setting. However, they point to very human desires and issues. There are quite a few of these but I'll highlight a couple of key moments. In season 4 the two sides of his personality are split into two different people. We all have these two sides of ourselves, and we all fear that the wrong one will win out in the end. As Lionel tells Lex at the end of the episode, “A man can’t deny his true nature Lex. We’re Luthors, son. We’re Luthors.” Lex’s knowledge of this side of himself is part of what makes him give in to that side. In the sixth season, he is married to Lana Lang for a brief time. She marries him partially because she is pregnant with his child. In what seemed on the surface like a silly, soap opera-esque plot twist, it turns out she wasn’t really pregnant and it was all a trick to get her to marry him. Upon thinking on this further, haven’t we all done things to try to secure the love of another? Not as crazy and sci-fi as what Lex did, but similar things. He really did love her, and he was afraid she wouldn’t love him in return so he tried to give her a reason to be closer to him. Who among us can’t understand loneliness?
Like many good villains, Lex sees himself as the hero. But he feels that he must do extreme or even harmful things to accomplish his goal of saving the world. His final descent comes near the end of season seven, and it is when (a slightly reformed) Lionel stands in the way of Lex’s goal. Lex murders him. Lionel was an evil man, who had murdered his own parents to start his empire. And yet, Lex’s similar actions make him even worse than Lionel ever was, as we see in other versions of the Superman mythos. Though it’s sad and hard to watch at times, this is my favorite episode of the series. The opening scene between Lex and Lionel that ends with the tragic patricide is incredibly well done and is the unavoidable conclusion of the entire series’ conflict between the two. Sure, you could say that Lionel held back the key to Lex’s quest to save mankind, and that’s why he killed him. But the real reason is that Lex had wanted to kill his father for a long time, because his father didn’t love him. Is it really such a crime to desire a father’s love or a friend’s support? Lex has been left behind by everyone he ever cared about and it made him a cold man. Can any of us really say we’d act differently in his position? The transformation is solidified in the episode when Lex’s inner child appears to him in a dreamlike sequence, representing his last shred of humanity. Lex drags the boy into the fireplace and thrusts him into the fire, while exclaiming “you make me weak.” With all the things he did, he could still have turned back. But he destroyed himself and any chance at redemption he might have once had. The saddest part is, in his mind he did it in order to help people. He thinks he has to be a monster to fight monsters.
There is a common misconception of the comic book genre, as well as the sci-fi genre. Yes, on the surface the Batman series is about a guy who dresses up in a silly costume and beats up other people in silly costumes. But it’s really a deeply psychological tale about a man who’s still just a scared little boy in an alley, crying over his parents dead bodies. He never really left that alley. And you could say that the Star Trek series is just a bunch of silliness about flying around in space. But the people are really just looking for themselves out on that final frontier. They’re in a crucible the size of the universe itself. So even though Lex’s descent is marked by clones, aliens, and superpowers, the real story is about a little boy who grew up unwanted by even his own father. A boy who wants to save the world, but the world wants someone else. A boy who would be more than content to live and die on a farm in Smallville, Kansas, but has sadly been exiled from any such hopes or dreams. Lex’s story is one that we all must heed, because we could become him; and more importantly, we could create him.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Shakespeare: A Poor Player who Should Have Strut and Fret his Hour on Stage Before Being Heard no More
Yeah you read me correctly. Much like the infamous "tree burning" incident, the fires of my wrath (the furies of both Hell and a woman scorned pale in comparison) are woven by the opinions of others. And what they leave behind is a man who has always felt that he missed out on drinking the Bard's Kool-Aid, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. That'd be me (the man and not the Kool-Aid). Because much like alcohol, strategy games, and U2, I really don't see the appeal. Unlike those things, there is a lot that Shakespeare wrote that is deserving of praise. Just like Dirty Harry is deserving of praise. It's well-written and well-delivered. But you wouldn't give it Best Picture, just like you wouldn't give Best Picture to Spider-Man 2, The Matrix, or Sin City. All of these are some of my favorite films (and certainly better than some of the stuff that's been nominated in recent years, I'm looking at you Crouching Tiger!) but that doesn't mean I'm going to go overboard and say, "OH MY GOD THESE ARE BETTER THAN ANY MOVIES THAT EVER HAVE BEEN OR EVER WILL BE" because that's just preposterous. This is how I feel about Shakespeare. Do I enjoy some of his plays? Absolutely. Do I think they're the best things ever written? Heavens no. (not that I can name what the best ones are, but you only have to be a doctor to find a cure, not recognize an illness)
As an example, let's use Dan Brown. I highly enjoyed reading The Da Vinci Code and Angels & Demons but not because they're particularly well-written. The stories are really enjoyable and well-crafted, but the writing needs a bit of work. And that's okay! But this is how I feel about Shakespeare, yes he writes very eloquently (sometimes too eloquently) but all of his comedies are pretty much the same (gender crises and marriage mishaps abound) and quite a few of his tragedies are taken from other stories. And his biggest admirers readily admit this. So they know for a fact he used someone else's idea and they still give him all the credit? (try that today, rewrite a John Grisham novel with better language and see who the judge favors) As many know, I'm an avid Lord of the Rings fan, I think it'd be tough to find better films (more like impossible) but go ahead and ask director Peter Jackson if he deserves more credit than J.R.R. Tolkien, the author of the original books. Peter adapted the stories incredibly well and made them beyond visually amazing, but he wouldn't have had anything to work with if Tolkien's books didn't exist. So give Shakespeare the credit for the words he uses, but let's not pretend that he came up with too many original thoughts.
My first real exposure to Shakespeare was Romeo and Juliet. Contrary to some popular belief (or popular to some contrary belief, if you will) I was actually going into it with an open mind. That open mind was slammed shut when in the beginning of the play the audience is told that the two lovers are doomed. They ruined the ending! Now, I appreciate irony and foreshadowing. I love the Star Wars prequels because they answer the question: why did Darth Vader become a monster? We know how the story ends, but there are answers that we need. But the opening to Romeo doesn't function like this at all, instead it's just a spoiler. Instead of telling us: "why did Darth Vader turn evil?" it tells us: "Darth Vader is evil, turns good in the end, and then dies" before we've even watched A New Hope! Still, this could have been saved by a riveting story about a couple who knew they were flying too close to the sun but decided their love was too important. Instead, the whole thing reads like something on the CW. It feels like Romeo refuses to give up his relationship with Juliet because she's hot and his hormones won't let him. Where's the poetry in that? In addition, my Creative Writing teacher told me that when everybody dies in the end it means that the author wrote himself into a wall and didn't know what to do. West Side Story does it way better if you ask me, the story may well be just as silly, but at least it's got some great dance numbers to distract from this fact.
Interlude: did you know that Shakespeare didn't actually say that "woman scorned" quote? It was some other guy. Funny how anything relatively profound from that time period is attributed to Shakespeare huh?
As I mentioned in my Bob Dylan post, I think a lot of people are expecting Shakespeare to be excellent because everyone else says so, and when they read it and just see a bunch of overly hyperbolized (strangely not a word) jargon with more adjectives than plot progression, they just assume it must be over their heads. I luckily don't have this problem, because with rare exception I value most people's opinions on about the level of one of Jane Goodall's pupils. In addition, although I do find plays like Macbeth, Richard III, and parts of Julius Caesar to be quite good (I like Hamlet, but it's the most overrated of all. In modern day terms, it's a two-hour movie living in the skin of a four-hour movie.) that doesn't mean that everything the man did was brilliant. People try to find every excuse for why something is good, and refuse to see the truth. Even I can do this with things I love, watch:
I love the whole Matrix trilogy, but good Lord what is up with that four minute rave scene in Reloaded? It serves absolutely no purpose.
I love the Harry Potter books but you know what? That confrontation with Voldemort at the end was anti-climactic. The one at the end of the first book was better.
I love The Dark Knight but (brace yourself) I would actually change four seconds of it. Because I hate that during the beginning of the motorcycle chase, little kids are making shooting noises and motions with their fingers right before cars explode. It removes you from the moment, and I don't like it. Thankfully the other 131 minutes and 56 seconds are great.
So as you can see, even though these are some of my favorite and most nostalgic things, I can admit that there are parts that aren't perfect. And why? Because they were written by human beings. Shakespeare had writing deadlines the same as everyone else, and he had a mortgage to pay I'm sure. So if something feels like a rushed ending, it probably is. And The Winter's Tale is just bad, can't we all agree that his good stuff is still good and also admit that a lot of it is bad too? The fabric of the universe won't unravel, he'll still be a great writer. Why does he have to be so untouchable among other writers? I personally find Dante to be ten times the writer that Shakespeare was, and he took a bunch of ideas from other people too (unless he was the sole author of Christianity, Greek Mythology, and History itself).
To me, you could have the greatest visual film of all time, but if there's no story then it's enjoyable but not really very good. At the same time, you could have an incredible script in the hands of a great director, but a mediocre cast. It's not every day that Casablanca or Ben-Hur shows up. Which is why they're so rightfully praised. However, I feel like Shakespeare is one of those guys with nothing to say, but also a lot of nice ways to say nothing (he should've been in politics). All of his plays are filled with long soliloquiys, some of which are excellent and rightfully famous such as "All Our Yesterdays" from Macbeth or "Friends, Romans, Countrymen, Lend Me Your Ears!" from Julius Caesar. However, one must remember that there are also a ton of soliloquiys that no one remembers from each play because they're not particularly interesting. For some modern day examples, in the movie 300, after you see it the first time or two, the first half an hour isn't as interesting and you're kind of waiting for the good stuff. And when it gets good, it gets really good (as it's a surprisingly moving, heroic, and inspiring film). But that doesn't mean every scene in the film is equally as good as everything else. Whereas in V for Vendetta (I got tired of using LOTR all the time, although it's really all one needs) if the scene isn't a fascinating philisophical conversation, it's a well-done fight scene or (ironically) a well-placed quote from Shakespeare that aligns perfectly with the character's revenge. The scenes are all different, but they're all excellent. I don't know that any author has achieved this, probably not, but that doesn't mean we have to pretend that Shakespeare is like that. He's more like 300, there's good stuff, but you find yourself waiting for it through some of the other fluff.
Who'd have thought even I would compare Shakespeare to 300? Ah well, better than a friend of mine's teacher who said, "Shakespeare is like global warming." Try wrapping your head around that one.
So do I really hate Shakespeare all that much? No, much like many of the other things I complain about, I mostly dislike the response to him. And since everyone wants to "hear my opinion" in class and "there are no stupid comments" it's surprising how often I have to keep my mouth shut. Because telling the truth about Shakespeare just isn't worth getting stoned to death by an angry mob of beatniks and starving actors. (They'll probably find me anyway, between the postal service, the orthocons, and everyone else that's after me there are probably a few Shakespeare fans.) If there was any justice in the world, I could badmouth Titus Andronicus while sitting by the fish tank in my apartment and watching a documentary entitled "Pluto, the ninth and best planet." Sadly, I must confine my ideas to this blog, in hopes that I can preserve them before the pod people find me and Ipcress a love for Shakespeare right into my brain.
As an example, let's use Dan Brown. I highly enjoyed reading The Da Vinci Code and Angels & Demons but not because they're particularly well-written. The stories are really enjoyable and well-crafted, but the writing needs a bit of work. And that's okay! But this is how I feel about Shakespeare, yes he writes very eloquently (sometimes too eloquently) but all of his comedies are pretty much the same (gender crises and marriage mishaps abound) and quite a few of his tragedies are taken from other stories. And his biggest admirers readily admit this. So they know for a fact he used someone else's idea and they still give him all the credit? (try that today, rewrite a John Grisham novel with better language and see who the judge favors) As many know, I'm an avid Lord of the Rings fan, I think it'd be tough to find better films (more like impossible) but go ahead and ask director Peter Jackson if he deserves more credit than J.R.R. Tolkien, the author of the original books. Peter adapted the stories incredibly well and made them beyond visually amazing, but he wouldn't have had anything to work with if Tolkien's books didn't exist. So give Shakespeare the credit for the words he uses, but let's not pretend that he came up with too many original thoughts.
My first real exposure to Shakespeare was Romeo and Juliet. Contrary to some popular belief (or popular to some contrary belief, if you will) I was actually going into it with an open mind. That open mind was slammed shut when in the beginning of the play the audience is told that the two lovers are doomed. They ruined the ending! Now, I appreciate irony and foreshadowing. I love the Star Wars prequels because they answer the question: why did Darth Vader become a monster? We know how the story ends, but there are answers that we need. But the opening to Romeo doesn't function like this at all, instead it's just a spoiler. Instead of telling us: "why did Darth Vader turn evil?" it tells us: "Darth Vader is evil, turns good in the end, and then dies" before we've even watched A New Hope! Still, this could have been saved by a riveting story about a couple who knew they were flying too close to the sun but decided their love was too important. Instead, the whole thing reads like something on the CW. It feels like Romeo refuses to give up his relationship with Juliet because she's hot and his hormones won't let him. Where's the poetry in that? In addition, my Creative Writing teacher told me that when everybody dies in the end it means that the author wrote himself into a wall and didn't know what to do. West Side Story does it way better if you ask me, the story may well be just as silly, but at least it's got some great dance numbers to distract from this fact.
Interlude: did you know that Shakespeare didn't actually say that "woman scorned" quote? It was some other guy. Funny how anything relatively profound from that time period is attributed to Shakespeare huh?
As I mentioned in my Bob Dylan post, I think a lot of people are expecting Shakespeare to be excellent because everyone else says so, and when they read it and just see a bunch of overly hyperbolized (strangely not a word) jargon with more adjectives than plot progression, they just assume it must be over their heads. I luckily don't have this problem, because with rare exception I value most people's opinions on about the level of one of Jane Goodall's pupils. In addition, although I do find plays like Macbeth, Richard III, and parts of Julius Caesar to be quite good (I like Hamlet, but it's the most overrated of all. In modern day terms, it's a two-hour movie living in the skin of a four-hour movie.) that doesn't mean that everything the man did was brilliant. People try to find every excuse for why something is good, and refuse to see the truth. Even I can do this with things I love, watch:
I love the whole Matrix trilogy, but good Lord what is up with that four minute rave scene in Reloaded? It serves absolutely no purpose.
I love the Harry Potter books but you know what? That confrontation with Voldemort at the end was anti-climactic. The one at the end of the first book was better.
I love The Dark Knight but (brace yourself) I would actually change four seconds of it. Because I hate that during the beginning of the motorcycle chase, little kids are making shooting noises and motions with their fingers right before cars explode. It removes you from the moment, and I don't like it. Thankfully the other 131 minutes and 56 seconds are great.
So as you can see, even though these are some of my favorite and most nostalgic things, I can admit that there are parts that aren't perfect. And why? Because they were written by human beings. Shakespeare had writing deadlines the same as everyone else, and he had a mortgage to pay I'm sure. So if something feels like a rushed ending, it probably is. And The Winter's Tale is just bad, can't we all agree that his good stuff is still good and also admit that a lot of it is bad too? The fabric of the universe won't unravel, he'll still be a great writer. Why does he have to be so untouchable among other writers? I personally find Dante to be ten times the writer that Shakespeare was, and he took a bunch of ideas from other people too (unless he was the sole author of Christianity, Greek Mythology, and History itself).
To me, you could have the greatest visual film of all time, but if there's no story then it's enjoyable but not really very good. At the same time, you could have an incredible script in the hands of a great director, but a mediocre cast. It's not every day that Casablanca or Ben-Hur shows up. Which is why they're so rightfully praised. However, I feel like Shakespeare is one of those guys with nothing to say, but also a lot of nice ways to say nothing (he should've been in politics). All of his plays are filled with long soliloquiys, some of which are excellent and rightfully famous such as "All Our Yesterdays" from Macbeth or "Friends, Romans, Countrymen, Lend Me Your Ears!" from Julius Caesar. However, one must remember that there are also a ton of soliloquiys that no one remembers from each play because they're not particularly interesting. For some modern day examples, in the movie 300, after you see it the first time or two, the first half an hour isn't as interesting and you're kind of waiting for the good stuff. And when it gets good, it gets really good (as it's a surprisingly moving, heroic, and inspiring film). But that doesn't mean every scene in the film is equally as good as everything else. Whereas in V for Vendetta (I got tired of using LOTR all the time, although it's really all one needs) if the scene isn't a fascinating philisophical conversation, it's a well-done fight scene or (ironically) a well-placed quote from Shakespeare that aligns perfectly with the character's revenge. The scenes are all different, but they're all excellent. I don't know that any author has achieved this, probably not, but that doesn't mean we have to pretend that Shakespeare is like that. He's more like 300, there's good stuff, but you find yourself waiting for it through some of the other fluff.
Who'd have thought even I would compare Shakespeare to 300? Ah well, better than a friend of mine's teacher who said, "Shakespeare is like global warming." Try wrapping your head around that one.
So do I really hate Shakespeare all that much? No, much like many of the other things I complain about, I mostly dislike the response to him. And since everyone wants to "hear my opinion" in class and "there are no stupid comments" it's surprising how often I have to keep my mouth shut. Because telling the truth about Shakespeare just isn't worth getting stoned to death by an angry mob of beatniks and starving actors. (They'll probably find me anyway, between the postal service, the orthocons, and everyone else that's after me there are probably a few Shakespeare fans.) If there was any justice in the world, I could badmouth Titus Andronicus while sitting by the fish tank in my apartment and watching a documentary entitled "Pluto, the ninth and best planet." Sadly, I must confine my ideas to this blog, in hopes that I can preserve them before the pod people find me and Ipcress a love for Shakespeare right into my brain.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
My 5 Favorite Villains Ever: Volume 3
While favorite villains number 5 and 4 are both excellent, now we can finally move into the field of television for the next two. I found it shocking during a Pop-Up Trivia for a Seinfeld episode that its numbers were mediocre back then, but would be in the top five today. Why are fewer people watching TV? Back when Seinfeld started, the only good shows on were Star Trek: The Next Generation and, well, Seinfeld. Nowadays, you have comedies of modern genius like The Office and 30 Rock, and there are dramas of unparalleled quality like Lost and 24. And fewer people are watching TV than back in the days when a character would break their leg one week and be running after a baddie the next? It's all wrong...ah well, this little pre-rant went on a little long, let's get to the good stuff.
3. Benjamin Linus from Lost. Television as a medium gives the writers an opportunity to develop characters over many years, which is why in many ways I've come to love TV more than movies (though there's still no better way to spend your time than a Lord of the Rings-athon). Ben Linus is an excellent example. He's a sick, twisted man in a lot of ways. But he's my favorite character, no contest. In addition to having a richly tragic background, he's also darkly funny quite often and maniacally brilliant. I find myself cheering for him more often than not (which I should probably seek psychiatric help for, I wonder if Dr. Melfi is available). At first, Ben just creeps you out. However, after you get a little background on him, you start to feel for the poor guy (and I am warning you now, CRAZY HUGE SPOILERS AHEAD).
Ben is an unwanted child, he's really just a guy who's willing to do terrible things in order to find his place in the world. His mother died in childbirth and his father hated him for it. He frequently forgets Ben's birthday and often beats his own son. So once he reaches the Island as a pre-teen, he gains a new father-figure in the form of Richard (the leader of a group of "Others" on the Island who oppose the Dharma Initiative, which is the group that brought Ben and his father to the Island. We're still unsure of how "good" Dharma really was, to further thrust Ben's backstory into grey area). Young Ben sides with Richard, and when he gets older he has the entire Dharma Initiative killed by poisonous gas, and he gasses his father personally (this was appropriately on his birthday, as he was born into being "Leader of the Others" and also because he lost both of his parents on his birthday). However, he can't force himself to look at his father when all of this takes place. He had to look at the situation tactically and remove himself from it emotionally. He is an extreme, but conflicted man.
The episode where we receive this background information is one of my favorites and is appropriately titled "The Man Behind the Curtain." Not only do I love pop culture references, but the title also has a brilliant double meaning. It can refer to the fact that in this episode we are somewhat introduced to Jacob, the mysterious actual leader of the Others. It can also refer to the fact that we are introduced to the man behind the monster when we see that Ben is just a frightened, abused little boy who never really grew up.
But even his position with the Others is not set in stone. When the new leader John Locke emerges Ben attempts to kill him several times (and succeeds once). This seemingly came out of nowhere when I first saw it in the aforementioned episode, but then I realized that Locke was taking from him the only thing he really had: his position as Leader of the Others. Eventually, Ben makes (from his standing point) the ultimate sacrifice for the one thing that matters most to him. In the season 4 finale Ben essentially saves the Island, and in doing so must exile himself from it. It's a truly heartbreaking scene in a lot of ways, no matter how distorted the man may be. To add to this extended tragedy, he makes his way back to the Island in season 5, and in the finale he is once again rejected, this time by Jacob. He then proceeds to stab Jacob to death, and cause some major problems for season 6 (January 2010 can't come soon enough!). But can we really blame him? He did absolutely everything that was asked of him and in the end, the man whom he served treated him like a stray dog.
But Ben's not all monster, we see his humanity come out in very select and interesting circumstances. For instance, he has an adopted daughter, Alex, who he truly does seem to love as his own. He was sent to kill her birth mother when Alex was still a baby. He couldn't bring himself to do it, and he took Alex as his own. For years, she kept some semblance of his humanity in check. This all falls apart in another great episode, "The Shape of Things to Come" when she is killed by a former leader of the Others. It is at this point that Ben swears revenge on this man, Charles Widmore, by vowing to kill Widmore's daughter Penelope. However, this is where the story gets really interesting. In a recent episode, Ben got his chance to kill Penelope, but he couldn't bring himself to do it when he saw she had a son. A man who seemingly has no heart is unable to kill mothers (as seen by this situation and by letting Alex's mother live). In addition, he took Alex in for many of the same reasons that Batman adopts Robin in the wake of his parents' death, he thinks that if he can save her (or him in Batman's case) then he can save himself. Maybe if she received a proper, loving upbringing, she wouldn't end up the same as him and then he can change. Sadly, he is not granted this luxury (villains rarely catch a break).
Ben is an expert liar, brilliant manipulator, and all-around creepy guy. However, he's also been screwed in a lot of ways, so maybe in the beginning he felt that he had to manipulate in order to have things go his way (before just plain enjoying his power over others, which is kinda messed up). And one must respect his skills, however evil they may be. I'd like to think that even though he'll likely be the subject of some kind of retribution in the final season for the crimes he's committed over the course of the show, he might find some measure of peace after his long struggle for acceptance. And that's the whole meaning of the show, the people aren't just Lost from society, they're Lost from themselves. And Ben wants to find his way back just as much as anybody.
3. Benjamin Linus from Lost. Television as a medium gives the writers an opportunity to develop characters over many years, which is why in many ways I've come to love TV more than movies (though there's still no better way to spend your time than a Lord of the Rings-athon). Ben Linus is an excellent example. He's a sick, twisted man in a lot of ways. But he's my favorite character, no contest. In addition to having a richly tragic background, he's also darkly funny quite often and maniacally brilliant. I find myself cheering for him more often than not (which I should probably seek psychiatric help for, I wonder if Dr. Melfi is available). At first, Ben just creeps you out. However, after you get a little background on him, you start to feel for the poor guy (and I am warning you now, CRAZY HUGE SPOILERS AHEAD).
Ben is an unwanted child, he's really just a guy who's willing to do terrible things in order to find his place in the world. His mother died in childbirth and his father hated him for it. He frequently forgets Ben's birthday and often beats his own son. So once he reaches the Island as a pre-teen, he gains a new father-figure in the form of Richard (the leader of a group of "Others" on the Island who oppose the Dharma Initiative, which is the group that brought Ben and his father to the Island. We're still unsure of how "good" Dharma really was, to further thrust Ben's backstory into grey area). Young Ben sides with Richard, and when he gets older he has the entire Dharma Initiative killed by poisonous gas, and he gasses his father personally (this was appropriately on his birthday, as he was born into being "Leader of the Others" and also because he lost both of his parents on his birthday). However, he can't force himself to look at his father when all of this takes place. He had to look at the situation tactically and remove himself from it emotionally. He is an extreme, but conflicted man.
The episode where we receive this background information is one of my favorites and is appropriately titled "The Man Behind the Curtain." Not only do I love pop culture references, but the title also has a brilliant double meaning. It can refer to the fact that in this episode we are somewhat introduced to Jacob, the mysterious actual leader of the Others. It can also refer to the fact that we are introduced to the man behind the monster when we see that Ben is just a frightened, abused little boy who never really grew up.
But even his position with the Others is not set in stone. When the new leader John Locke emerges Ben attempts to kill him several times (and succeeds once). This seemingly came out of nowhere when I first saw it in the aforementioned episode, but then I realized that Locke was taking from him the only thing he really had: his position as Leader of the Others. Eventually, Ben makes (from his standing point) the ultimate sacrifice for the one thing that matters most to him. In the season 4 finale Ben essentially saves the Island, and in doing so must exile himself from it. It's a truly heartbreaking scene in a lot of ways, no matter how distorted the man may be. To add to this extended tragedy, he makes his way back to the Island in season 5, and in the finale he is once again rejected, this time by Jacob. He then proceeds to stab Jacob to death, and cause some major problems for season 6 (January 2010 can't come soon enough!). But can we really blame him? He did absolutely everything that was asked of him and in the end, the man whom he served treated him like a stray dog.
But Ben's not all monster, we see his humanity come out in very select and interesting circumstances. For instance, he has an adopted daughter, Alex, who he truly does seem to love as his own. He was sent to kill her birth mother when Alex was still a baby. He couldn't bring himself to do it, and he took Alex as his own. For years, she kept some semblance of his humanity in check. This all falls apart in another great episode, "The Shape of Things to Come" when she is killed by a former leader of the Others. It is at this point that Ben swears revenge on this man, Charles Widmore, by vowing to kill Widmore's daughter Penelope. However, this is where the story gets really interesting. In a recent episode, Ben got his chance to kill Penelope, but he couldn't bring himself to do it when he saw she had a son. A man who seemingly has no heart is unable to kill mothers (as seen by this situation and by letting Alex's mother live). In addition, he took Alex in for many of the same reasons that Batman adopts Robin in the wake of his parents' death, he thinks that if he can save her (or him in Batman's case) then he can save himself. Maybe if she received a proper, loving upbringing, she wouldn't end up the same as him and then he can change. Sadly, he is not granted this luxury (villains rarely catch a break).
Ben is an expert liar, brilliant manipulator, and all-around creepy guy. However, he's also been screwed in a lot of ways, so maybe in the beginning he felt that he had to manipulate in order to have things go his way (before just plain enjoying his power over others, which is kinda messed up). And one must respect his skills, however evil they may be. I'd like to think that even though he'll likely be the subject of some kind of retribution in the final season for the crimes he's committed over the course of the show, he might find some measure of peace after his long struggle for acceptance. And that's the whole meaning of the show, the people aren't just Lost from society, they're Lost from themselves. And Ben wants to find his way back just as much as anybody.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
I am the Twenties, Hear Me Roar
Upon turning 21 last month, I went to dinner with my parents and had my first drink. Actually, I had about five sips of it, because that was all I could take. What is the appeal exactly? For instance, I go to happy hour most Fridays with my friends from (undisclosed college location) and I've always gotten raspberry tea. Why? Because it's smooth and delicious. Plus, during happy hour all non-alcoholic drinks are free (unless you get the vindictive waitress, she knows who she is). Well, on the happy hour after my birthday I figured I'd have a drink recommended by my friends. A beer was recommended that was "fruity and smooth." It tasted like rot in my mouth. And the "Jack and Coke?" It tastes like distorted coke (coke's evil twin). And on top of being disgusting, they cost a lot! So I can either have a raspberry tea for free with free refills, or I can pay four dollars for something that burns my throat. The choice is obvious right?
Apparently not.
I don't know whether the Body Snatchers forgot to snatch my body, or if I was experimented on as a child (this might explain my superhuman eyesight, hearing, and ego) but I really can't stand the taste of alcohol, especially beer. And people tell me: "it's an acquired taste." Well how much money will it take and how many times does my face have to scrunch in agony before I acquire that taste? Since the answer is somewhere between 1 and a number I have no desire to calculate, I say forget it. Why not just enjoy a refreshing iced tea?
And to answer your questions: did I always like broccoli? Freakishly yes. Have I always enjoyed tuna? Absolutely, as Jerry Seinfeld adequately put: "The idea of lunch was built on the foundation of tuna." You know what I didn't like when I first had it? Wasabi sauce, which is incredibly spicy. You know how many times I've had wasabi since? If you guessed zero, send in recorded proof of this for a complimentary kewpie doll. I mean, I burned my hand on a stove once and I have no reason to believe that putting my hand on the stove again will yield a different result. However, I'm sure if I kept my hand there for a while, the nerve endings in my hand will be gone and it wouldn't hurt so much anymore (hand burning is an acquired taste, and costs less than alcohol, I highly recommend it).
Now, I do understand drunks. At least they have a clear goal in mind, albeit highly misguided, which is to become drunk. And how does one do this? With lots of alcohol. Well that's at least flirting with being a logical progression. However, getting home and having a beer with dinner to complement the meal? This I fail to understand. It dehydrates you, and I'm not sure I like my steak with a side of ferment. And what about the old days of wine? Sure, it was better to drink than water (an easily solvable problem that no one seemed to be intelligent enough to figure out in those days) but let's see if this sounds appealing to you: grapes are stomped on with people's bare feet (which have been to countless unknown and possibly disease-ridden places), the juice is kept in a barrel for forty years or so, and then you drink it. How would you like to have some water that's been sitting around in a barrel for forty years? I'm pretty sure I wouldn't, I don't drink water that's older than 22 years (depending on the consistency of the barrel it's been lying around in).
Or how about Vodka? What is it about a sweet, delicious Arnold Palmer (iced tea and lemonade, best drink ever) that screams out: "You know what's missing? Rotted potato skins." All I'm saying is that I wish they'd have thought of prohibition a bit sooner. It was too late by the time it rolled around, and now look where we are. People will drop seventy dollars a weekend at the bar and then say to me, "Dude how can you spend so much on DVDs?" If Mother Teresa wants to reach out to be from beyond the grave and tell me I'm a selfish jerk who spends his money on DVDs and video games when he could be giving it to the poor, that's totally fine (and would likely be influential to me, plus I pretty much own everything I want at this point anyway). But anyone else can keep their mouth shut because all of my DVDs are still here. What's become of all that alcohol? It's gone, and it's not coming back. (In addition, they don't seem to mind how much money I spend on DVDs when they want to borrow something, then all of a sudden I'm Domenic: Patron Saint of Loaning Stuff. I say, build a church in my honor with a sweet stained glass rendition of me, then we'll talk)
In my defense, I've tried most of the things that I condemn (except for stuff that's obviously terrible like cocaine, heroin, and Hallmark movies). I can officially say that cigars are another waste of money (you might as well just pick up some leaves, light them on fire, and stick them in your mouth. It's the same effect and it won't cost as much). On a moderately unrelated note, this is the same reason I'll be viewing Slumdog Millionaire soon. I'm sure it's a good movie, maybe even a great movie. But we'll see if it might be better than the Oscar-snubbed Dark Knight (a clue: no). I think everyone says: "beer must be great, look at how long it's been around!" and "cigars must be great, why else would they be so expensive?" They expect it to be a certain way, and ignore the painstakingly obvious bad taste that ensues in their mouths. This is similar to something I call the Shakespeare phenomenon (the guy is way overrated, a blog on this will come when I feel like being on every English major's hit list). I say don't be afraid to have a dissenting opinion, tell people how nasty you think beer is, tell them how much whiskey burns your throat, and yell it loudly from the rooftops that if Shakespeare wanted "Romeo and Juliet" to be tragic then why exactly did he spoil the ending in the first paragraph?
Apparently not.
I don't know whether the Body Snatchers forgot to snatch my body, or if I was experimented on as a child (this might explain my superhuman eyesight, hearing, and ego) but I really can't stand the taste of alcohol, especially beer. And people tell me: "it's an acquired taste." Well how much money will it take and how many times does my face have to scrunch in agony before I acquire that taste? Since the answer is somewhere between 1 and a number I have no desire to calculate, I say forget it. Why not just enjoy a refreshing iced tea?
And to answer your questions: did I always like broccoli? Freakishly yes. Have I always enjoyed tuna? Absolutely, as Jerry Seinfeld adequately put: "The idea of lunch was built on the foundation of tuna." You know what I didn't like when I first had it? Wasabi sauce, which is incredibly spicy. You know how many times I've had wasabi since? If you guessed zero, send in recorded proof of this for a complimentary kewpie doll. I mean, I burned my hand on a stove once and I have no reason to believe that putting my hand on the stove again will yield a different result. However, I'm sure if I kept my hand there for a while, the nerve endings in my hand will be gone and it wouldn't hurt so much anymore (hand burning is an acquired taste, and costs less than alcohol, I highly recommend it).
Now, I do understand drunks. At least they have a clear goal in mind, albeit highly misguided, which is to become drunk. And how does one do this? With lots of alcohol. Well that's at least flirting with being a logical progression. However, getting home and having a beer with dinner to complement the meal? This I fail to understand. It dehydrates you, and I'm not sure I like my steak with a side of ferment. And what about the old days of wine? Sure, it was better to drink than water (an easily solvable problem that no one seemed to be intelligent enough to figure out in those days) but let's see if this sounds appealing to you: grapes are stomped on with people's bare feet (which have been to countless unknown and possibly disease-ridden places), the juice is kept in a barrel for forty years or so, and then you drink it. How would you like to have some water that's been sitting around in a barrel for forty years? I'm pretty sure I wouldn't, I don't drink water that's older than 22 years (depending on the consistency of the barrel it's been lying around in).
Or how about Vodka? What is it about a sweet, delicious Arnold Palmer (iced tea and lemonade, best drink ever) that screams out: "You know what's missing? Rotted potato skins." All I'm saying is that I wish they'd have thought of prohibition a bit sooner. It was too late by the time it rolled around, and now look where we are. People will drop seventy dollars a weekend at the bar and then say to me, "Dude how can you spend so much on DVDs?" If Mother Teresa wants to reach out to be from beyond the grave and tell me I'm a selfish jerk who spends his money on DVDs and video games when he could be giving it to the poor, that's totally fine (and would likely be influential to me, plus I pretty much own everything I want at this point anyway). But anyone else can keep their mouth shut because all of my DVDs are still here. What's become of all that alcohol? It's gone, and it's not coming back. (In addition, they don't seem to mind how much money I spend on DVDs when they want to borrow something, then all of a sudden I'm Domenic: Patron Saint of Loaning Stuff. I say, build a church in my honor with a sweet stained glass rendition of me, then we'll talk)
In my defense, I've tried most of the things that I condemn (except for stuff that's obviously terrible like cocaine, heroin, and Hallmark movies). I can officially say that cigars are another waste of money (you might as well just pick up some leaves, light them on fire, and stick them in your mouth. It's the same effect and it won't cost as much). On a moderately unrelated note, this is the same reason I'll be viewing Slumdog Millionaire soon. I'm sure it's a good movie, maybe even a great movie. But we'll see if it might be better than the Oscar-snubbed Dark Knight (a clue: no). I think everyone says: "beer must be great, look at how long it's been around!" and "cigars must be great, why else would they be so expensive?" They expect it to be a certain way, and ignore the painstakingly obvious bad taste that ensues in their mouths. This is similar to something I call the Shakespeare phenomenon (the guy is way overrated, a blog on this will come when I feel like being on every English major's hit list). I say don't be afraid to have a dissenting opinion, tell people how nasty you think beer is, tell them how much whiskey burns your throat, and yell it loudly from the rooftops that if Shakespeare wanted "Romeo and Juliet" to be tragic then why exactly did he spoil the ending in the first paragraph?
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