Oz The Great and Powerful

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Image courtesy of Disney.com

I went through several stages in anticipation of Disney’s “Oz The Great and Powerful.”

First, I felt resentful. If Hollywood was going to produce a big-budget epic on the subject of Oz, how could they overlook the material from Gregory Maguire’s Wicked series? No, I committed to myself. I was not going to shell out my money to support that unforgiveable betrayal.

Then, through a combination of my partner’s enthusiasm and the ubiquitous movie trailers, my curiosity was piqued. They came up with a compelling cast. I thought: could a movie really be bad with James Franco, Michelle Williams and Rachel Weisz? It looked like fun. And really, maybe the film world is big enough for more than one new story about the legend of Oz.

But next, I read the New York Times review. Wow. I haven’t read such a lambasting in quite awhile. I was back to the stage of writing off this new rendition of The Wizard of Oz as a highly likely disappointment. Here’s a little excerpt from film critic Manohla Dargis:

Can the major studios still make magic? From the looks of “Oz the Great and Powerful,” a dispiriting, infuriating jumble of big money, small ideas and ugly visuals, the answer seems to be no.

Ultimately, I decided to judge for myself. I went to see the movie with my honey-bunny and a friend just this afternoon.

The one sentence synopsis: “Oz The Great and Powerful” is about a charlatan magician Oz (James Franco) who learns how to change his shifty ways when he’s transported to a fantasy world, and he’s the one person who can serve up justice for a people terrorized  by a wicked witch.

So what can I say? The kids in the audience liked it (and there were plenty of them). But as a cross-over movie for adults, “Oz The Great and Powerful” fell flat for me. There wasn’t much to hold my interest in the story. Meanwhile, the one-dimensional characters and cutesy devices (a rescued porcelain doll) worked against that interest, in an eye-rolling and cringing way.

It’s unfortunate because I think kids’ films can work for adults, through delightful imagination (the Harry Potter series) and/or an interesting subtext (The Golden Compass). “Oz The Great and Powerful” has a little bit of the former, but mostly it felt to me like an unsuccessful mash-up of vintage and modern fantasy sensibilities. On the latter score, you could find a more intriguing subtext in a pre-school picture book. Good is good. Evil is evil. And according to Sam Raini’s Oz, only men have the psychological complexity to waffle a bit in between the two.

 

 

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Best Movies of 2012

Here we go with my self-proclaimed Best Movies of 2012.

My typical disclaimer: I rarely, very rarely, recommend Hollywood blockbusters. It happens even more rarely the older I get. So as much as I love big epic fantasy as a genre, those titles tend to be underrepresented on my list. Instead, I usually go with quieter films – fantasy or not – with a strong narrative pull, real emotionality, and that highly subjective quality of resonance.

Another disclaimer: you may ask yourself, where are the queer films? Well, I didn’t see many of them, and I have no idea if that’s a reflection of the lower output (or quality) of queer cinema in 2012 or a random quirk of my movie-going behavior this year. I’ve included one film with a gay supporting character in my Honorable Mentions. Feel free to tell me what I should have seen.

What I do have is a list of great films featuring young adult characters.

I braced myself to see this ultra-heavy movie about an emotionally disturbed boy who grows up to do horrific things, and his embattled mother’s attempts to stop him. WNTTAK showcased the best acting of the year IMHO, with Tilda Swinton as the helpless, deeply-scarred mom, and Ezra Miller as the relentlessly destructive son. To boot, the story comes with an ending that leaves things quite reasonably unfinished yet with just a sliver of hope. My favorite film of the year.

Life of Pi was an unabashedly sentimental film. But give me an unabashedly sentimental film with an underdog hero I can get behind, like shipwrecked Suraj Sharma in the title role, and I’m a happy camper.

I thought the story was ridiculously imaginative and totally believable, due to Ang Lee’s direction and the tremendous special effects. It works whether you believe a boy survives on a life raft with a wild tiger, or the alternative version of the story revealed at the end.

I used the film’s French poster because I like it better.

Chronicle is one of the few 2012 fantasy movies I loved. Three teenage boys discover a mysterious object in the woods that gives them telekinetic abilities. Hand-held filming and capable, unknown actors give the movie an authentic feel – the antithesis to typical Hollywood superhero-storytelling. The movie left me thinking: this is what would really happen if a teenage boy unlocked supernatural abilities.

 

 

 

Honorable Mentions

I can’t fully recommend Snow White and the Huntsman because too many things bugged me about the storyline. It felt to me there was a missed opportunity to develop Charlize Theron’s Evil Queen further, taking her beyond the misogynistic bent of the source material. And the Huntsman seemed like a throwaway character, existing solely to create the possibility of a happy heterosexual ending for Snow White (who was played excellently by Kristin Stewart).

But the film had outstanding artistry and great world-building, along with lots of good intentions, just narrowly missing the mark for me.

Films about troubled suburban white kids have come a long way. I grew up on John Hughes’ movies in the 1980′s, and though I loved their comic moments of adolescent calamity (rendered most successfully in Sixteen Candles, I think), they always felt too safe and sanitized.

Nowadays, filmmakers can delve much deeper into the hardest problems facing teens. Perks of Being a Wallflower, based on Stephen Chbosky’s 1999 novel, does a commendable job in this regard. There’s a touch of familiarity to the film’s band of quirky, alienated characters, but they are beautifully brought to life by terrific casting (Ezra Miller shows once again that he is expertly suited as a teen anti-hero). What I liked the most about the film was the subtlety with which the main character Charlie’s (Logan Lerman) psychic wounds are revealed.

The narrow missing of the mark for me on this one was a heavy-handed ending. The film does such a good job of slowly unveiling complex issues – childhood sexual abuse, the loneliness of gay adolescence, dating violence – it felt unfair to wrap everything up neatly in the promise of enduring teen friendships.

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My Favorite Books of 2012

I make a concerted effort to read lots of books. I do it to support fellow authors and good-quality small presses. It also helps to keep my literary muscle in shape.

According to Pew Research Center, most American readers read 17 books annually. E-book readers read more – 24 on average.

That sounds pretty good, but not so encouragingly, Pew’s survey found that one in five Americans don’t read any books at all. And the percentage of readers and the number of books read each year has been steadily declining since the 1970′s.

This year, I’ve read 19 books. I would have to give myself a C+ as a reader based on Pew’s statistics.

Here’s a round-up of my favorites. As with last year, I try, really try to include some new releases; but with an ever-expanding reading queue, it’s hard for me to keep up with what’s current.

Top Pick

SONG OF ACHILLES (Ecco, 2012) is a true 2012 release, and a truly outstanding work of mythic fiction. At its center is a love story between Patroclus and Achilles that spans from childhood to young adulthood when the two join the Greeks to fight the Trojan War. Miller’s portrayal of young love is extraordinary, and she renders the time period and setting beautifully. You can read my full review from June 12, 2012 here.

 

 

Close Second

I have never included a short story anthology in my top picks, but this issue of sci-fi/fantasy journal Collective Fallout (Vol. 3, No. 3) was my most enjoyable read of the year. It’s theme is futuristic, and it’s filled with entertaining stories of queer love in dystopian worlds. Highly imaginative and unexpectedly romantic. Here’s my full review from March 14, 2012.

 

 

 

Pick #3

Strange Fortune came out in 2009, but I’m sneaking it in here because I felt it edged out the remaining new releases that I read this year. It’s published by a high quality, LGBT small press (Blind Eye Books).

I’ll give a little more extensive review of the book since I haven’t talked it up on my blog. The story is set in a fantasy world that is an intriguing blend of high fantasy and ancient Indian sensibilities. There’s an Indiana Jones-ish hero Valentine Strange, and a more timid Warlock-y co-hero Alleister Grimshaw. The two get thrown together on an adventure to recover a magical, ancient artifact: the diadem of the goddess Purya.

The two men’s simmering attraction pulled me through the story, but Strange Fortune is equally an engrossing fantasy adventure. The two heroes are up against it early on. Bandits, sent by a mysterious patron, for a mysterious purpose, want to kill Valentine and Grimshaw to get the diadem. A complex mystery unfolds, and between my eagerness to figure out the significance of the diadem, and whether or not Valentine and Grimshaw would get together, I rushed through to the end of the book. A really fun diversion with a fresh fantasy setting.

Honorable Mention

Allison Moon sums up her self-pubbed Lunatic Fringe in two words: “lesbian werewolves.” I took a peek, got hooked and sped through the pages.

It’s the story of Lexie, a reserved young woman raised by her widower father, who goes off to an elite liberal arts college and struggles to fit in with a more “worldly” crowd. Delightfully, she gets taken in by an otherwordly crowd, a politically-empowered group of women who secretly hunt werewolves. They call themselves “The Pack.”

Meanwhile, Lexie falls for an independent-minded townie named Archer, who Lexie discovers is a werewolf.

What worked for me so well in this story was the interwoven political commentary, and Lexie’s journey to find her political self. Things heat up on that score when there’s a rape on campus, and the threat of werewolf attacks becomes symbolic of the physical/sexual violence that maintains male power and privilege on college campuses and elsewhere.

But I didn’t find Lunatic Fringe to be a preachy book. Both feminist politics and the werewolf world are portrayed as complex, with unexpected discoveries of what constitutes “good” or “evil.” There are good guys and gals and bad guys and gals on both sides of the political and werewolf spectrums. Moon brings an interesting perspective to werewolf mythology, with a variety of factions within that are warring as much with each other as they conflict with the human world. The intriguing question becomes: where will Lexie fit in?

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Dylan Edwards’ TRANSPOSES

Dylan Edwards' Transposes

Retrieved from Northwest Press

I recently received, and tore through, a review copy of cartoonist Dylan Edwards’ TRANSPOSES (Northwest Press, October 2012).

Having worked with LGBT teenagers at a youth center for many years, and being a writer and a fan of gender-bending characters, I found TRANSPOSES delightful and instructive.

The book comprises six illustrated stories of “queer-identified female-to-male transpeople” inspired by a series of interviews that Edwards undertook in his community. While he’s careful to point out in his Authors Note that the characters couldn’t possibly be representative of all queer-identified FTMs, I think it is extremely likely that readers, across the gender spectrum, will find something they relate to in this book.

With characters based on real life people, TRANSPOSES provides portrayals of ‘T’ individuals that are current and provocative. Issues like gender corrective hormones and surgeries play into some of the stories. But more often the characters are wrestling with, and learning about, and celebrating the experience of being themselves outside of social and medical preconceptions about gender and sexuality. As Henry, a bespectacled young FTM with an intellectual, OCD-leaning point of view, explains to readers in his chapter “The Museum of Natural Henry,”

“I do sometimes wish my body were more like a genetic man’s…but transition as a state of being rather than a temporary phase seems to be working for me.”

There’s amusing commentary on the perplexity of living in a binary gender-obsessed society. In the same chapter, Henry cleverly laments: “Frankly, I’d jettison all pronouns and gendered language if I could. But, as with pants, it tends to upset people if you leave the house not wearing any.”

Edwards establishes a wry tone from the start in his illustrated Introduction. Imagining himself addressing an auditorium, Edwards talks about the “cauldron of monkeys” awaiting trans-identity disclosures to family and friends. That cauldron gets opened pictorially, and the angry, mischievous monkeys fill the auditorium, demanding answers to such questions as:

“You used to be so pretty. Why did you have to ruin that?”

“How do you have sex?”

“You make me uncomfortable. Don’t you realize you owe me a justification for your existence?”

The stories frankly address such topics as coming out in a lesbian relationship (“Adam”), male role models and gay identities (“Avery”), as well as STIs (“Blake”) and recovery from childhood sexual abuse (“Aaron & James”). As such, I think TRANSPOSES is a trusty guidebook for young adults navigating the discovery of gender and sexual identity, and really for older adults too.

Edwards talks about aiming to create the kind of book he would have wanted when he was younger. I think in this regard, the author emphatically succeeds.

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James Vachowshi’s OUTSPOKEN

If you like smart-alecky, underdog, anti-establishment teen characters as much as I do, you should check out James Vachowski’s OUTSPOKEN (Vagabondage Press, 2012). Following a successful e-pub run, OUTSPOKEN recently came out in print.

The story is a clever high school political drama that reminded me of Robert Cormier’s classic THE CHOCOLATE WAR, albeit significantly updated for our time.

High school senior Abraham Lincoln Jenkins is an overachieving Black student, born of the projects and a troubled, single mother. His life’s dream is to go to Harvard and escape the intellectual mediocrity of Charleston, South Carolina. With his preternatural academic record and drive, Abraham gets an early acceptance letter. The only problem is: he overlooked the fact that to graduate from high school, he needs two credits in phys ed. That problem gets worse when he’s assigned to a Junior ROTC class to fulfill the credits.

Abraham’s discontents with the world are far-ranging – racial-profiling, U.S. foreign policy, the lack of motivation within his own low-income community – and being forced to take part in a military organization is the perfect circumstance to set off his sarcastic and well-articulated ire.

The story is told, very funnily and effectively, through a series of hyper-eloquent letters from Abraham to various authorities, in pursuit of waiving his phys ed requirement, and later, grieving the many policies of Junior ROTC that are an assault his freedoms (and those of everyone else in the world, to Abraham’s view). The tone is perfectly adolescent, perfectly indignant and perfectly venomous. It took me back to my own teenage years when Injustice felt like the air surrounding me.

Woven through Abraham’s letters are contemporary issues like U.S. militarism, the corruption of public education by soft drink companies, and gay rights to name a few, but I wouldn’t call OUTSPOKEN a political novel necessarily. Abraham’s views on these matters are certainly left of center, but few on any point of the spectrum are spared from his literary indictment, including the United Negro College Fund, which he sees as patronizing.

Further, Abraham’s carefully-worded appeals to liberal causes such as the National Organization for Women come off with such self-interest and underhanded collusion, he exposes himself as just as much of a hypocrite as the right-winters he despises. It’s really a skewering of American politics in general, a la Tom Wolfe’s BONFIRE OF THE VANITIES or Christopher Bram’s GOSSIP.

Yet it was hard for me not to root for young Abraham, even after reading his ridiculously arrogant letter declining an offer of acceptance from Princeton.

“I would like to congratulate you on the prestigious honor of remaining one of my top-ranked safety schools…If I happen to hear of any other students within my failing public school whose SAT scores are anywhere near mine, rest assured that I will refer them to your institution.”

This is a teen character who is a lot of fun to follow.

For more about James Vachowski, check out his site.

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Madeline Miller’s SONG OF ACHILLES

Anytime I come across a new title based on ancient Greek myth or history, I am liable to add it to my reading queue. When I heard about Madeline Miller’s SONG OF ACHILLES, which revisits the Trojan War from the perspective of Achilles’ male lover Patroclus, the book went to the top of my list.

SONG OF ACHILLES did not disappoint.

Miller imagines Patroclus as an awkward, lonely boy who is alienated from his curmudgeonly father. Patroclus brings disgrace on his family when he shoves the bullying son of a wealthy countryman, and accidentally kills the boy. His father’s solution is to send Patroclus off to a faraway kingdom that is the home of Achilles, a half god, half mortal prince, Aristos Achaion—the best of the Greeks. Despite his father’s banishment, that’s where Patroclus’ life truly begins.

Out of all of the young, famed prince’s boyhood admirers, Achilles chooses Patroclus as his favorite companion. A scene where Achilles juggles figs for his entourage’s amusement, and tosses a fruit to Patroclus, launches a compellingly romantic story.

It’s truly one of the very best love stories I’ve ever read.

Miller’s style is earthy and visceral. She gorgeously depicts the sights, sensations and smells of young love. On Patroclus’ sensual awakening:

“I kissed his neck, the span of his chest, and tasted the salt. He seemed to swell beneath my touch, to ripen. He smelled like almonds and earth. He pressed against me, crushing my lips to wine.”

While the setting is many centuries removed from modern day, I found the portrayal of blossoming teen romance to be spot on and timeless. The boys’ feelings for one another tentatively unravel, but once they do, the realization is transcendent, their declaration scarcely spoken but felt with greater certainty than anything they’ve known.

Miller perhaps take some liberties for the time period by positioning Patroclus and Achilles’ coupling as an unqualified love affair. They’re the same age, which would be unusual for a same sex relationship, at least one that perseveres beyond adolescence.

But in that, I found it to be a refreshingly angst-free gay relationship. Neither one of the boys struggles with uncertainty and shame. The barriers that stand between the two young men are external.

There’s Achilles’ goddess mother Thetis, for whom no man or woman would be good enough for her son; and the expectations of the day for young nobles: politically-bartered heterosexual marriage and the siring of male heirs.

Achilles disentangles himself from his bride-to-be by telling her father that Patroclus is his “husband.” It’s a great moment that subverts the hetero norm in a delightfully profound way. If Achilles considers Patroclus to be his husband, does that mean he sees himself as Patroclus’ wife? Could both young men be considered both husband and wife to each other?

I love stories that explore non-conventional sexuality constructs, and one of my only qualms with SONG OF ACHILLES is that the latter third of the book didn’t quite realize the unusual, egalitarian partnership between the men. When Achilles and Patroclus travel to Troy, and it comes time to fight, the hallmark of “manhood,” Patroclus timidly strays away from battle, and takes up the role of a medic’s assistant. He’s been trained for combat just like Achilles, and the Greek army needs all the warriors they can spare, so it didn’t make sense to me. Nor did it seem in line with Patroclus who had been brave enough to fight off bullies, not to mention to spar with Achilles during their training.

Notwithstanding that little glitch in characterization, Miller achieves a highly satisfying story rich in setting and emotionality. There are many of the characters and sub-plots from the Iliad in the background–Helen, Hektor, Odysseus, the fulfillment of Achilles’ prophecy–but essentially it’s a story about everlasting love.

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