Likability, The Kids Are All Right, and This Year's Awards Front-Runners

A subject that's addressed when it comes to the awards season and when it comes to movie-goers in general is likability. Not necessarily of the actors, but certainly of the characters. A fond and frustrating memory serves as example: when watching Battlestar Galactica with my mother, she couldn't stand nearly any of the characters because she didn't find them likable. Likability is something that changes from person to person; I, on the other hand, can only say I honestly strongly dislike one major Battlestar character, though I hardly love them all.

The reason this is coming to mind is my very recent (as in just finished about thirty seconds ago) viewing of The Kids Are All Right. Obviously, a lot of good things have been said about it considering its high tomatometer rating on rottentomatoes and its critical support and awards circuit support. However, I went in to watch this without expecting anything too brilliant, though hoping for it. I was honestly still pretty disappointed. It took the entire movie for me to understand why Anette Bening is getting so much attention and, honestly, she deserves it for making a character that could be so easily disliked into probably one of my favorites in the movie (besides the kids because, as the title says, the kids are all right, even though the adults are pretty ridiculous). Jules, on the other hand, while given a valiant effort by Julianne Moore, I simply could not stand. While I didn't appreciate Nic's trashing of composting (living in the rural area of upstate New York, I have composted my entire life as composting means opening the back door and chucking apple cores into the woods or, alternatively, walking about a hundred feet to our designated compost pile). I, however, could not stomach Jules accusations of her gardener being a druggie (and firing him!) and later her knowingly wrongful assertion to Nic that he did blow.

The thing is, obviously, if a character is bad or annoying or frustrating that doesn't make them unlikable. Just look at Daniel Plainview, The Joker, Mark Zuckerberg, hell, even the entire Gossip Girl cast (well, save Jenny and Vanessa in my opinion as they are both incredibly unlikable in my opinion). Bad people make fascinating characters, but it takes a good writer and a good actor to make them worth watching. I'm not a huge fan of either Mark Ruffalo or Julianne Moore, but I'd liked them in films past (i.e. Zodiac and A Single Man, respectively). However, here, whether it's their fault or just plain old bad, melodramatic writing, I couldn't enjoy Jules and Paul. I get it, dysfunctional family, unconventional family, and family values all wrapped into one. Interesting setting, which I enjoyed. However, the actual story and the use of those two characters made me cringe and groan and pull my laptop up to take a break from the movie and browse some websites.

I'm a bit surprised The Kids Are All Right hasn't entered the conversation in this way as I've heard plenty about the likability surrounding the characters of The Social Network and The King's Speech, but that's probably because TSN and TKS are front of the pack for Best Picture while The Kids Are All Right is looking at a nod only. Personally, I'm not sure I'd even give it that. The story just turned me off so much and those two characters, sometimes three, were so unbearable, I couldn't take it.

It's worth noting, however, that there's a difference between bad characters we love and bad characters that are just bad and it's usually because the latter category tries to argue that they are good people. That's not really the case with The Kids Are All Right or with any actually quality story-telling - good character studies try to prove the humanity of their characters rather than defining them as good or bad.

However, somewhere along the way, I just think this study failed. I could see that Jules and Paul were human, flawed but good-intentioned, and yet I couldn't get behind them at all. I didn't want to see anymore of them. I could not have lasted another hour with them.

This is what interests me when I've heard criticisms about The Social Network's characters and how unlikable they are because my very first response after I saw The Social Network was that I could have watched those actors play those characters for hours more. Mark Zuckerberg and Sean Parker were pretty jerky, the Winklevoss twins were hardly nice guys, and Eduardo Saverin was hardly perfect, but I was so fascinated by them and the way they interacted with one another. Mostly, it was thanks to a great (albeit partially fictional, but who really cares about that besides the people whose names were borrowed?) story and great writing.

I'm having a hard time really pinpointing what makes me think The Kids Are All Right failed to entertain or interest me, but I think I'm going to go with the story. The set-up, the concept, the ambiance, the general filmmaking, and the acting (for the most part) was all well-done and enjoyable. But something about the ways in which the characters are portrayed through the story leaves them unflattering in a painful and cringe-worthy way. Simply put, I didn't like it.

But, like I said earlier, likability is all about opinion. While I dislike the characters of The Kids Are All Right but love the characters of The Social Network (and The King's Speech for that matter), not everyone agrees. It's much easier, after all, on paper to adore the middle-aging married couple (because or even if they are lesbians) than a twentysomething billionaire or a British prince. However, that's not how stories work. Stories convince you that even if Mark Zuckerberg is a selfish prick or even if Prince Albert is stuffy and royal these characters are people too and they're human and interesting.

Likability will always play a part. I usually haven't had a real problem with it, since I am first in line to defend unlikable characters as real, but something about these characters, something about this story left me dissatisfied and frustrated.

On a slight ending note tangent, I saw Love and Other Drugs a couple weeks ago now and I was actually originally planning to write a blog post on that, particularly on the likability of Anne Hathaway's character versus Jake Gylenhaal's and how I found the latter to be more likable because how he was written as opposed to the former (and I'd half-jokingly blame that on the male writers - it is hard to write a strong female character, isn't it? and, back on topic, The Kids Are All Right had to write two! AND they had a woman at the other end of the pen, so phooey).

The Cultural Importance of Harry Potter and the Lack Thereof of the Twilight Saga.

I've never been a Twilight fan and I doubt I ever will be. This is unlike my initial distaste for Harry Potter when it first exploded onto the scene, because I've actually read parts of Twilight, I've seen the movies, and I still can't stand it. After I watched the second Harry Potter movie, I actually quite liked it and decided to give the books a shot and fell in love.

But the main thing that bothers me about Twilight is the fan culture, and I'm not talking about the rabid Taylor Lautner/RPattz fans. I'm talking about some of the major differences between the tiny generational divide of my age group, which grew up with Harry Potter, and the tween/teens now, who are growing up with Twilight.

The Harry Potter craze brought us fans who invented a musical genre, who helped kick off a renewed interest in reading and writing, and brought the famed sport of the books to life. Whereas the Twilight fans seem only capable of adorning their rooms with as much memorabilia as they can hunt down. Thanks to Harry Potter, I decided that I had wanted to be a writer, I actually ran a freakin' Harry Potter website for eight months (while having been a member of said site for nearly four years now), I downloaded albums of wizardrock (The Remus Lupins! Draco and the Malfoys!), and I have the guidebook to Quidditch because my school added a Quidditch team and I hope to bother to join soon enough.

It doesn't matter that, in my opinion, the Harry Potter books are much more well-written than the Twilight books (not sure I'd call them masterpieces, but they introduce interesting themes, well-rounded characters, and tell a classic, fascinating story) - what really matters to me in the debate of Twilight versus Harry Potter is the fandom. The question: What do these books contribute to the world?

Honestly, what can we say Twilight has contributed to the world? Heightened expectations in women of their perfect men that create FML stories like this one. Not to mention what a creepy-ass "guy" Edward Cullen is and how it's disappointing to see women of all ages wishing they had a man like him. Twilight has also spawned totally crazed fans that frighten me to death far more than the most rabid Harry Potter fan.

Sure, it's easy to say this now, three years after the final Harry Potter book was released and now that the storm has calmed, but even in my tween years, when I was one of those crazy Harry Potter fans, I was not adopting Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, or Tom Felton as my future lovers. Nor was I wishing that I could meet a man like Harry Potter. Why was that? Oh, because Harry isn't perfect - he's human, so to speak. A young man who spends paragraphs yelling because his hormones are out of whack and with a hero complex to shame... someone else with a huge hero's complex. J.K. Rowling treats her characters with enough respect to make them real.

Stephanie Meyer, however, has created Edward Cullen as a complete object. He is a dreamboat of perfection, of riches and chivalry and beauty. Bella is not much different with her Mary Sue flaw of clumsiness and beautiful individuality that attracts EVERYONE. Of course Harry gets attention; he's famous! What's Bella's excuse? And she hates it (whereas there is that beautiful moment in the sixth Harry Potter movie where Harry says defensively to Hermione, "but I AM the chosen one" and receives a thunk on the head), can't stand being who she is, is never comfortable with herself.

What kind of lessons can anyone take away from a story about a girl who has caring parents, is popular with girls and boys, beauty, and a bright life ahead of her but cannot be happy with any of it unless she has her man. It's worse than a Disney Princess! At least Jasmine gets pissed at Aladdin for lying to her, but Bella mopes and cries and tries to kill herself when Edward isn't around.

Harry Potter, on the other hand, teaches lessons of appreciating all those things in your life. Harry would be nothing without the strength of his friends, mentors, and everyone in his life. Harry is happy with himself most of the time - though being famous is hard work and he isn't pleased to be an orphan, even when he lives under the tyrannical rule of his aunt and uncle, he doesn't complain about it, merely makes the best of it with his wit and knowledge that life goes on. Seriously, we start off the first book with Harry pleased to look forward to going to a different school than his cousin so he could develop his own life. Even the much-hated epilogue of the final book provides that message: life goes on and it's worth living.

Twilight? Nothing's worth living for except hunky vampires and immortality.

Lessons aside, I've already listed the other cultural implications Harry Potter brought along. It has spawned so many excited and participatory fans that it is incredible. I met Harry and the Potters - I bought one of their freakin' T-shirts. I've dreamed of remaking the Harry Potter movies one day (though I doubt I'd bother nor would I probably be let to; it'll be too soon and the movies, for all their faults with continuity aren't bad). Harry Potter inspired me to do great things. I doubt Twilight could ever encourage such spirits. Musical genre? Collegiate sport? Literacy? Well, considering that Twilight is written the way that I wrote when I was thirteen...

Sure, I'm mean to Twilight, I'm hard on its fans. I can't blame people for liking the series; I'm sure that the right readers enjoy such tales. But there is nothing beneficial to take away from the books, and that they have succeeded Harry Potter as the "it" books is depressing because it is such a huge step down.

Oh popular culture. How interesting you are and how much I hate you until the Twilight movies are all made and freakin' over with.

...btws, rant was inspired by this interesting post over on incontention.com.

BTWs... about Heroes... + Why FlashForward Is Better Than You Give It Credit For

Pretty sure I changed my mind from before; I haven't bothered watching Heroes since like the third episode and probably won't bother to continue. I just hope it dies soon. NBC seems to be fizzling out all its other dramas too, so why not this tired and never-going-to-improve one?

My ulterior motivation in doing this is to eventually remake the series better. I doubt I would ever actually do that because there are other things I'd rather do, but I would totally blow up New York and hire some better writers.

And... House. I feel bad because I actually do want to keep watching House, but there are just so many other shows I'd rather be watching these days so I am not up to date on that show either. I'll try to catch up one day... but not now.

Oh and Dexter too. I still haven't finished the third season. Oops! >.>


On another note, although most people don't seem to be in love with FlashForward, I have a couple things to say in its favor. The reason I think that I personally am getting so invested in this show has to do with a literature class I am taking right now called Narratives of Suffering. In fact, FlashForward and my class overlap in ways enough that I wrote it into the conclusion of my midterm paper for the class (my professor actually quite liked it and thanked me for bringing the show to his attention; I had a paper conference with him earlier this week, just after (**SPOILERS**) Al offed himself and I told him about that and how interesting it was).

My paper was about the idea of suffering and human agency in regards to it. In many ways, we do not have control over the suffering that is given to us. Depending on who you ask or your source material, it might be that suffering is randomly assigned to people who undergo tragic experiences that plague them or cause suffering due to a complete removal or one from one's comfortable life. We've talked about this in class in relation to an identity within a frame that we create for ourselves. And then something comes along and while we suffer, we are removed from our frames and all that we felt we could control before is taken away from us and we are left in the infinite space of the universe, the wall we built up around ourselves as a symbol of who we are is suddenly taken away from us and we are lost. It could also be said that this natural, part of being human (something that can be taken away in particular from the poetry of Emily Dickinson or that seems to be implied in Samuel Beckett's play, Endgame). Or a condition of our being in a certain state (the focus of my paper was primarily on Harriet Jacobs' narrative of her life in Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl). Either way, when we suffer and we are removed from our place, there is a sense of nothing we can do, that we have to give into our eventual fate and let suffering take us where it will.

Or, we can make a choice. Even if there is nothing physically that we can do to overcome our suffering, we can make a mental choice that we want to survive. In Owen Chase's narrative Loss of the Ship Essex, Sunk by a Whale, although he and his companions are starving on a boat far away from land, unable to even move at points because they have been so physically reduced, it really it the mental state that each man takes on that controls whether or not they will survive. Chase writes, "all was dark [Isaac Cole] said in his mind, not a single ray of hope was left for him to dwell upon; and it was folly and madness to be struggling against what appeared so palpably to be our fixed and settled destiny. I remonstrated with him as effectually as the weakness both of my body and understanding would allow of" (pg. 67). Although Chase fails to convince Cole that his destiny was not fixed as a dead man, here is the beautiful demonstration of human agency even when it seems we have none left. So many of the characters that we explore in this class make a conscious choice that, despite their state, they will fight it somehow. Mary Rowlandson in The Sovereignty and Goodness of God stands by her bible even while in the hands of the Indians, keeping her faith strong as she suffers, choosing to believe that God will deliver her from it, and he does. Chase eventually survives to tell the tale (although it is rumoured that he went crazy from the cannibalism they had to employ to survive and the long-term starvation and suffering each survivor endured). Jacobs manages to escape to the north after several years in a tiny space where she hid before she could leave the south.

But then, at the same time, none of the characters truly finds happiness in the end. As I said, Chase goes crazy, and when Jacobs goes up to the north, she finds that the world up there isn't a whole lot better to black women than the south was. We also watched a couple films in the class, The Sweet Hereafter and Leaving Las Vegas (which is why I was more than a little pissed off when Owen Gleiberman describes Nicolas Cage's character as someone who is "full of longing and regret" neither of which ever seems to cross the character from the perspective I watched the film). But I want to focus on the former film. In the closing narration, Nicole, the only child who survives the tragic bus accident, comments that in the process of moving past the grief and coming out of suffering that the town didn't exactly return to happiness, rather, they were now in a "strange and new" world, as she describes it. One of Dickinson's poems goes as follows:

"I shall know why-when Time is over-
And I have ceased to wonder why-
Christ will explain each separate anguish
In the fair schoolroom of the sky-

He will tell me what “Peter” promised-
And I-for wonder at his woe-
I shall forget the drop of Anguish
That scalds me now-that scalds me now!"

No matter what comes later, anguish will leave its mark. Suffering will leave its mark. There is a chance of removing yourself from suffering, but you will never reenter the world you had before it came.

And here is where FlashForward comes in. FlashForward has characters who see firsthand the suffering they will go through, or their flashforwards cause suffering upon their sight. Olivia is terrified of her eventual adultery. Mark is scared of returning to his alcoholism and losing his family. Nicole is frightened of a world where she finds herself deserving of being drowned to death. Demetri is, unsurprisingly, unpleased by the prospect of being murdered. Aaron is fraught by all kinds of despair when he sees his supposedly dead daughter alive. And Al, poor Al, wants to stop himself from being the cause of death for a single mother.

Yet, the agency that these characters employ? It's pitiful! The show seems to endorse the nonsensical concept of determinism, which Lloyd calls Simon out for using in yesterday's episode. But there are little things that characters do. Mark burns the friendship bracelet his daughter makes for him... all while constructing the board he sees in his future. Olivia throws away the lingerie she sees in her flashforward. Nicole tries to be the best person in the world, one who hardly deserves her death. And Al... kills himself.

I give Al two gigantic thumbs up, as well as the writers of FlashForward, for that game-changing decision. I cried, not only because it was so sad, but also because it was a much-needed remonstration of how the future is not set in stone (didn't we learn this lesson in Terminator all those years ago?). I had been waiting since the beginning for someone to jump off a building or take a gun to their head. It seems such a depression alternative, but in this case, it is a form of agency, better than the efforts the other characters have been making. They obsess over their futures rather than trying to live their lives as if their futures are still within their control. They are thrown out of whack, out of their comfortable little frames of lives, and forget that they have any control whatsoever. They are acting like Chase's companions and admitting defeat, that there's nothing to be done, the destiny has already been prescribed, there's no way out.

But there is, and that is what is so interesting and frustrating and beautiful about FlashForward. It provides us with this amazing study of how we all can react to a loss of control. It's not the same as being lost on a tropical island, not about finding that you have super powers, not about supernatural beings and powers. But all of these scenarios, they show new potential by being removed. But this... FlashForward, is so unique. It's not a change of what's already happened that leads this people to make their new choices and to arrange their new lives. There was a big dramatic event, the blackout, yes, but that's not all. Not only is there that bookend with the deaths of millions and the destruction of many places, but there's a future seen too. The potential is lost when people see the future and find themselves bound to a destiny, lost from their control, not just from the life they've already had, but the life they wanted or planned to have.

FlashForward isn't perfect. But I am so tired of hearing it labeled as a Lost knock-off, as too slow-moving or whatever else people find bad about it. FlashForward raises some of the most interesting questions and observations about human nature in regards to this loss of control, in regards to suffering, both of which I believe to be so important and central to human life, than I have seen in a while.

I will close this lengthy argument with the closing paragraph of the paper I wrote for my class. It was written before the latest two episodes of FlashForward were aired and therefore before Al's suicide. It may be repetitive of what I've already said, it may not be as articulate or clear or as in favor of the show as I am trying to be here. But it is an example of how truly fascinating this is:



"As an extension of this particular concept of human defiance versus submission to the fate’s commandment of suffering, there has been something tugging at my brain for some time now. This subject consistently reminds me of a new television series by the name of FlashForward. In the series, each of the characters is privy to a two minute and seventeen second “flashforward” (a vision with the clarity of a memory but of something that hasn’t yet happened) to a point approximately six months in the future. What people see brings them to do many things they may not have done had they not seen their future, especially those who see negative things in their flashforward (reverting to alcoholism after seven years of sobriety, having been murdered prior to that date, being in an extramarital affair with an unknown man, etc.) But what really surprises me is how some of the characters follow the strings, allow themselves to be drawn into the web of destiny or fate or whatever leads them to that place in the future, to that place where they would rather not go. Of course, the solution is not to simply kill oneself, although that would surely defy what is seen in the future. But when the woman avoids the man she will supposedly have an affair with, when the girl who sees herself as being “deservedly” murdered resolves to do absolutely no wrong in her life that would allow her such a fate, it reminds me of the strength of humanity to fight against what is to come. Here’s to hoping that some of them are actually capable of defying fate. Otherwise, the argument for humanity’s ability to use our small portion of agency to fight back will have been smacked down as completely false. If we can’t even stop the things we have been forewarned of, what hope is there when we don’t get that opportunity to see where the road goes?"



...the only thing I'm worried about? I'm only worried that FlashForward won't realize how smart it is (Heroes style... but I think FlashForward is already a lot stronger than Heroes was in the beginning) and ruin the beautiful study is has presented to us. Maybe I can even hope some of the dudes involved read this and realize what I'm getting out of it! ...but I doubt that. So the end.

Character

Oh right! Maybe I can enjoy dramas. Because I now recall that I also recently viewed a very good Dutch film, the 1998 winner of Best Foreign Language Film at the Oscars, Character. I paid attention to the whole thing and thoroughly enjoyed it. Although, I tend to pay far more attention to foreign films because I can't focus elsewhere because I have to read subtitles.

Regardless, I think this just means that the "adult dramas" I have viewed lately are boring or just not that great (apologies to Last Chance Harvey, Pride and Glory, and Public Enemies).

Anyway, Character. My mother and father viewed it before me (we all share a lovely Netflix account which means that movies rot in front of our TV because my parents are workaholics and I sneakily move my film choices up the queue but then my parents want to watch the same movies... so the movies still rot) after it had been sitting in front of our television for at least two weeks, and my mother cryptically ranted "if only he hadn't kept visiting his father." And I think to myself, "what, is his father a gangster? Is he rebelling but failing? Dude, no matter how shit their parents are, some kids just get attached." But my mother has this thing where she actually expects characters to be perfect. Watching Battlestar Galactica with her is a pain in the ass. I love her, but characters are flawed.

As is Jacob, our protagonist. Majorly flawed, but who can blame the kid? (Mind the following spoilers if you haven't seen the film.) He was raised by a mother who didn't care and was the illegitimate son of a prick whom he was indebted to. If he and his mother got along better, I'd totally call this a Oedipus complex (he rivals his daddy lots, physically fighting toward the end. It was awesome seeing this adorable little lawyer beating up his big, buff bailiff daddy). I, for one, thoroughly enjoy flawed characters, ones who have these major problems that they just can't fix. They're interesting, not to mention well-rounded and sensibly-crafted. Jacob can't help but try to tell his father, "despite all the shit you put me through and the way that you weren't there, I STILL WON."

And considering how he got a rather happy ending (aside from the not-to-die-for-in-attractiveness-but-mildly-pretty Miss Le George getting married and strolling about with her baby) and was discovered to be innocent of his father's death, I really don't see how it was such a bad thing that he kept going back to visit his father. Of course he did! Sure, he shouldn't have nearly killed him, but characters don't do what they should; they do what is in character.

James Bond is a majorly flawed character (he's essentially a boozing, womanizing assassin, but he works for the good guys). Pretty much all superheroes are massively flawed, all the best protagonists are. Even Harry Potter, for all his ridiculous Chosen One skills is still a whiny angst-ridden emo/i-miss-my-mommy-and-daddy kid. Even my mother's beloved Bill Adama and Laura Roslin have definite issues.

So I switched topics a little bit, from my issues with focusing on dramas to characterization (something that frustrates me when it isn't done right... I'm looking at you, Heroes, for shitting on your original concept of ordinary people doing extraordinary things and making it into this-character-does-this-because-we-want-them-to... lezzie!Claire is not going to help your show's issues), but I'll conclude with this: Character was a great film featuring a fascinating and well-portrayed (and fairly attractive) protagonist. Maybe I just need to watch more foreign films. I've met very few foriegn films I haven't liked. Granted, Yo-Yo Girl Cop was more ridiculous than good... but it was still fun to see Japanese school girls trying to kill each other with yo-yos.