Thoughts on Children's Lit

It's been a while since my last post hasn't it been? Well, not to get too personal, but I've been having a rough semester and a very busy one at that. My film production class has left me wondering how I managed to even make it into the film department, my screenwriting class is kicking my butt at this exact moment with too much homework, and even my hundred-level religion class resulted in a shittily graded paper.

But do you want to know what is going pretty freakin' well this semester? My Children's Lit class.

I was just rereading my earlier blog post about The Girl Who Owned a City and thought that I would like to revisit my thoughts from that post about children's literature. I know, this is more of a movies and television blog and I certainly could rant about how this season of Dexter has been so slow or say how I've given up on House for now or commend Community on doing what it does best. I could rave about The Social Network or get unnecessarily excited over going to the new Harry Potter movie midnight release on Thursday night, but I'd much rather discuss the real shining beacon in my life right now, which is, surprisingly, this lit class.

Not that it's perfect. My first paper wasn't great, I haven't had time to do more than a general outline for the paper due this Wednesday, and I'm close but not quite at A level. I've finished some of the reading a bit after it was technically due and I've still yet to cover Twilight in the class, but there are so many interesting things to take away from this class, none of which I can do justice in a blog post at 1:30am, but I can give you a quick survey of the genius that is this class and this subject and my own personal relationship with children's texts.

We kicked off the semester with an excerpt from Alice in Wonderland, but not the whole text (originally on the syllabus, but, amongst a few others such as The Giver, Alice in Wonderland was cut in the end). The Wind in the Willows was next in all its episodic glory (my favorite being Rat's interactions with the traveling Rat he meets). The Secret Garden introduced me to Dickon and re-introducing me to creepy crushes on children (this would continue with Will Parry as I was inspired to reread The Subtle Knife during my "free time"). I even ventured into the world of fan fiction veer so briefly before realizing that writing Dickon's manner of speech accurately removed any sexiness. My desires for attractiveness and accuracy conflicted. Peter and Wendy told me that I really just didn't like the story of Peter Pan very much after all. The Twins at St. Clare's reminded me of my childhood addiction to series like The Boxcar Children and The Babysitter's Club: basic children's books that nobody really takes seriously after a certain age. The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe told me that, no, I don't like Narnia and The Last Battle that The Amber Spyglass did religion better. Also, we approached The Problem of Susan, and I started to get my ideas for my coming paper, wanting to approach my gender's role in all of this. What's so wrong with wanting invitations and nylons? On the flipside, we went over to The Golden Compass, one of my favorite books ever, and I was reminded how great the characters were and how one of my future cats should be named Iorek. The Ear, the Eye, and the Arm showed me another female character, though not the main protagonist, that I had originally written off but embraced by the end. Howl's Moving Castle was brilliant and I wonder how I'd never read it as a child. Officially decided another future cat shall be named Howl. I was also reminded that I am a sucker for a good literary romance - what's so wrong with Sophie and Howl having a happily ever after? Many of my classmates contested. Perhaps it's best we only read The Golden Compass and didn't introduce my beloved Will Parry. The Devil's Arithmetic brought me back to my middle school reading habits: American Revolution or Holocaust children's literature. How depressing! Magic made a comeback and time travel and another female protagonist, how fantastic! Finally, most recently, we've come to a collection of picture books and Roald Dahl's Revolting Rhymes. I don't remember ever reading any of the books: Where the Wild Things Are, Pat the Bunny, Goodnight Moon, Harold and the Purple Crayon, William's Doll, or Princess Smartypants.

Just take a glimpse through my notes from class sometime and you'll see a crazy amalgamation of ideas and concepts because in examining children's literature, it's not unlike examining adult's literature - there's quite a bit of everything. Adults have serialized literature that may not be brilliantly written, adults have historical drama and stories steeped in gender roles and fantasy and religion and science fiction. But when examining a whole group of literature, I never want to stop reading. I realized that today as I sat in the library, reading from our Oxford companion, filled with interesting essays on different topics in children's literature, we'd only read seven chapters of sixteen. I wanted to read them all! In fact, I want to read the gender roles chapter in time for my paper. I want to read the other dozens of books referenced.

Literature feels like a much more endless supply than movies or television. Not that one could watch the entirety of cinematic or televised history in a lifetime, but those mediums are so different from novels and poetry and essays and everything in-between. Children's movies are interesting and all, but there's something so much narrower about that library than the library of children's books. For exampls, film versions of these stories. Howl's Moving Castle was completely redefined and centered around a tale Miyazaki wanted to tell rather than the actual book's plot. The Narnia movies were even more ridiculous than the books, in my opinion. The Golden Compass, while well-cast, was watered down. I still have yet to see The Secret Garden. Peter Pan, the animated version, tries to simplify a simple story. Peter Pan, the live-action 2003 film, takes a completely different approach to the material, one which I might even like more than the book. And while Where the Wild Things is a good movie, in my opinion, it is an elongated version of the picture book from which the title hails. And that movie wasn't really made for kids so much as nostalgic adults.

There's a much more stream-lined narrative and style for "children's movies" than for children's books. Some of the worries centered around children's literature are much more apparent in movies for kids. Whereas some books are overly instructive or didactic, most movies for children are built around some life lesson moral that is hammered into the audience. Even in well-made features, such as Howl's Moving Castle, there is no escaping something so very clear. And gender roles are even worse in film, generally speaking.

I've always thought to myself which movies I would want to show my non-existent kids, being mostly a movie person. But I'm more interested now in understanding what books I also want them to read. The television I want them to watch. The games and toys I want them to enjoy. There is so much to learn, but even more to simply observe, to enjoy conflicting narratives that teach different lessons, allowing my kids their own agency of decision-making. It's easy to forget that kids aren't people too, but I'm still somewhat young enough to remember how intensely I thought about certain things and how not-intensely I thought about others.

Now is different. Now I see anything and I'm almost afraid I might over-analyze it. Everyday conversations involve some semblance of intellectualism. Ahh, college students, how they converse and interact. How they drag in the challenging of the concept of canon based on their children's lit reading from a couple weeks ago. But it feels so good to talk about those things, to have that perspective. Some might call it snobbery or elitism or silly to waste time learning about children's lit but there are so many ways to understand children, a huge part of this world, and one of which is to observe what goes into these texts and what comes out, whether it be in a college classroom or a child's bedroom.

My apologies for making this blog post so inherently steeped in my personal life. Unfortunately, I really don't have strong opinions about any movies or television I've watched lately (well, maybe except that the last few episodes of Glee have been a huge step up since the back nine, which were sometimes essentially unwatchable). Oh, well, I guess there's one big announcement: amidst my personal ~drama, I've started watching The Wire, which I am understanding to be one of the best television shows ever? Well, I'm certainly liking it. Liking it enough to start the second season rather than read the screenplays I need to for Tuesday.

"Emmy" TV Shows. Not Unlike "Oscar" Movies.

Sorry for the long absence. I'm a busy student/employee/television addict/etc.

But as I catch up on last night's television shows, I started to wonder to myself about "the Academy." See, lots of people complain, whine, and moan over both the Academy that decides the Emmys and the Oscars. The thing is, though, I haven't seen many people spend all year discussing the Emmys, declaring this show an Emmy show and that show not an Emmy show, whereas even everyday movie-goers will easily be talking about the Oscar chances for The Social Network or Toy Story 3.

At first glance, this might indicate that the selectivity for the Emmys is not so severe as it is for the Oscars. You'd think an Academy that would nominate True Blood might actually have its marbles in a way an Academy that shut out The Dark Knight doesn't. I think though that you'd be wrong. True Blood, for example, has certain things going for it, including an Academy Award-winning main actress, a respected premium cable channel, and a "message" (y'know, how vampire rights in the show parallel modern day LGBT rights).

Don't fool yourself; the Emmys like the same things the Oscars do. Pedigree isn't everything though, as former Academy Award nominees Mary McDonnell and Edward James Olmos will tell you, having worked for years on a never-nominated critically-acclaimed little series called Battlestar Galactica everyone who knows me knows that I adore. It takes a certain class that comes, especially these days, with being on a premium cable network, which is why even though I haven't seen an episode of Boardwalk Empire, I'm convinced it will land several nominations next year. Because it's on HBO, it's classy like Mad Men, and it takes itself seriously.

As I'm sure the Buffy fans have lamented for ages, taking yourself seriously can be a big thing. I feel like one of the more common complaints about Mad Men would be a sort of "stuffiness" about it, coming from its slow, melodious pace and seriously fragmented (and often disliked) characters.

But the comedy category, you declare! Comedic shows are appreciated for irony! Just look at Glee? Though I decry Glee and watch it, such a contradiction as I am, Glee is actually something of an interesting anomaly in my opinion. It's a high school show, it's a musical, its pedigree is really not that impressive (Matthew Morrison and Lea Michele are the main show there - I won't count Jane Lynch, despite loving her more, because an unfortunate amount of not-young people don't realize how much she did pre-Glee). Glee's popularity comes from a more modern High School Musical approach - but you didn't see High School Musical get nominated for Best TV Movie, did you? Despite whatever sucks about Glee, it is kind of impressive for it to have gotten the formal recognition it has.

Besides Glee, however, the comedy area remains pretty locked for sitcoms and serious premium cable comedies (i.e. Weeds, Entourage, Curb Your Enthusiasm). And, to be honest, the only reason Glee might get nominated again next year is because the current freshmen sitcoms are rather slim pickings, so I'd be prepared for a full-on repeat in the comedy series category.

Sitcoms are cute and quaint. They're very old-fashioned. Even Modern Family, which I watch and like and is lauded for its advancement, follows your old-school format of following a family around and seeing all their funny, morally-inclined hi-jinks in a short half hour. If there was a movie equivalent to sitcoms, actually, which there really isn't anymore, I'd be surprised if it got nominated for the Oscars, actually, because that area is even too backwater for them. When people talk about potential Oscar comedies, they think of raucous shit like The Hangover, which is more of a premium cable type show than a typical network sitcom.

But back to the drama category, where this all started for me as I thought longingly of The Vampire Diaries, the shockingly good show I have fallen in love with despite not being a big vampire fan and aware enough of trends to usually not be susceptible without my consent. The Vampire Diaries is a good show, hands down. Interesting characters, good plots, amazing pacing, problems are rectified, everything is reasonable, and as a bonus, the cast is gorgeous (and, so far as I'm aware, come across as respectable and scandal-free). The problems? The show doesn't take itself so seriously. Not in the same way, say, my beloved Chuck does, becoming a little bit too much of a self-parody at times, but there is an air of fun and danger that comes from a show willing to take risks, kill off a main character pretty quickly, and do a lot of things most shows aren't really willing to do. Second, the show doesn't have pedigree. It's highest pedigree right now is probably Ian Somerhalder, best known otherwise for his season-long and small recurring bit as Boone on Lost. Nina Dobrev did Degrassi. Matt Davis might be most recognizable for Legally Blonde. Seriously, this is not your A-list cast. But they're not just pretty, they're good. And, finally, The Vampire Diaries is on The CW. The CW may technically be a network station, but it is essentially trash to the bigwigs. The CW is home of Smallville and Gossip Girl, not a show that's better than Emmy-nominated True Blood (sorry, TB fans, I'm with you, but did you see the third season compared to TVD? Just, no).

Everything that might make a series worthy of Emmy recognition is simply not in this show, which is probably derided by people who've never seen it as part of the Twilight craze, as a teen drama with lots of skimpy clothes and scandal. I'm sorry, but this is neither True Blood nor Gossip Girl; there are few if none unnecessary shenanigans. High school is a setting, not a defining characteristic of the show (especially as of late; Mystic Falls is more the setting anyway, one of the coolest, cult-like towns ever). Skimpy clothes? Are you kidding me? Besides the car wash episode, there have been so few scantily clad moments. I can remember all of one legitimate sex scene in the entirety of this series. There are some sexy flashbacks, but it is nothing compared to the wild orgies of True Blood season 2, or even the least sexy of True Blood episodes. Scandals? I bet there are about five thousand more scandals in a single episode of Desperate Housewives than a full season of The Vampire Diaries. Vampire Diaries is more concerned with drama and action and zigzagging plots and surprises than with the kind of ~drama that fuels shows like Gossip Girl or One Tree Hill or Gilmore Girls (which I loved, but was soapy as hell sometimes).

Essentially, every stigma that The Vampire Diaries would attract is false. But that's true about a lot of shows that would never qualify for an Emmy nomination. There is no "Blind Side" slot in the Emmy nominees. The Emmys are probably even more out of touch with popular culture than the Oscars. Sci-fi has been at the Oscars for ages, from Star Wars to Avatar (more of a crowd-pleaser than it's-all-about-the-analogy District 9). Battlestar Galactica, despite being declared by many as one of the best DRAMA television shows ever, or at least a very good one in general, never got more than a technical nod at the Emmys.

So we bitch and moan and complain a lot about the Oscars, about the Academy Awards being old and how certain great movies will never be Oscar movies, but the Emmys are no better, if they're not even worse, especially since they can repeat old favorites in place of strong up-comers. While movies year after year can emulate and imitate older films, keeping that certain "old Hollywood" or "period movie" place in the Best Picture nominee line-up, Emmys can literally keep the same show in the running, even past its prime (I mean really? House? That show has been good at best, horrendous at worst, and meh most of the time for a couple seasons now).

And yet, few shows are looked at, saying, "this show was made for the Emmys" when one could look at, say, The King's Speech, and declare immediately "it's an Oscar movie!" There isn't a lot different between what makes television and movies appeal for "bigwig" Academies. If anything, audience size and critics matter more for the Oscars - I doubt you'll find many champions of House's last season (praise the mental institute episode all you want, there are over twenty other episodes in the season), but even The Blind Side was well-received by many, though certainly not everyone. House's audience has dwindled (and it was probably the most-watched series nominated for Best Comedy/Drama last year; remember, Glee's audience was pretty modest for most of the first season), but Avatar, District 9, The Blind Side, and Up were huge money-makers.

My point has been made clear by this point. Just like with the Oscars and movies, there will be brilliant shows that will never win an Emmy, that never won an Emmy, and probably were never seen by those who vote on the Emmys. And that's disappointing, sure, but that's life, and tastes change, though slowly, and one day all the types of shows we champion now will be detested by future generations as backwards and unworthy of admiration and we'll be clinging on.

Why I Watch The Human Target

I think I've discovered what it is that really draws me into The Human Target, and it's not just the really awesome action sequences and the slowly building mythology. I know there was a fair amount of sad faces over Chi McBride being somewhat underused thus far, but his partnership with Mark Valley's Christopher Chance reminds me very strongly of Jet and Spike from Cowboy Bebop, and the whole series at large is very reminiscent of that brilliant anime series (as someone who has never gotten into a single other anime series, I believe it's a sign of the quality of Cowboy Bebop that I love it so much).



Just look at those pictures and try to tell me how different those scenes are.

I don't know how influenced the current incarnation of Human Target is by the 1992 series, but I wouldn't be at all surprised if this relationship in Human Target was influenced by Jet and Spike from Cowboy Bebop rather than anything from there. As for the rest of the Bebop, Guerrero is obviously Ed and his flaky, casual attitude is very reminiscent of Ed's excellent craziness. The host of female figures that wander in and out of Human Target play the role of Faye (although I hear a permanent female lead is coming in next season and maybe we'll get a real Faye going on). But in the end, it all comes back to Chance and Winston.

I had a conversation with a friend of mine a few years ago about the Cowboy Bebop cast. He commented about how he thought Jet was a rather unnecessary character next to Spike, Faye, Ed, and Ein, who all had their own purposes. I defended Jet, because I really like Jet and he is really the unifying link. His partnership and friendship with Spike was what was at the beginning and it was what was at the end.

Jet and Winston have a lot of those stick-in-the-mud sidekick characteristics to Spike and Chance's more reckless attitudes - they both tend to chide the lead character a lot, do a fair amount of yelling and sighing and eye-rolling, and sit to the sidelines a fair amount of the time. On the other hand, of course, it's proven in both Winston and Jet's cases that they are capable of much ass-kicking. Their histories are similar, as they are both former cops, just like Spike and Chance are the same person for their shady histories (Spike being an ex-mobster and Chance being an ex-assassin). Layer on top of that the characters of Baptiste and Vicious and their former-friend/protege-turned-rival relationships with Chance and Spike and it's kind of hard to distinguish the differences between these two series. They also both alternate between mission-of-the-week/bounty-of-the-week and the overall mythology of the series. And, of course, the mysterious dead(?) dame - Victoria is Chance's Julia - a badass woman worth falling for.

Human Target and Cowboy Bebop have their differences too, of course, namely that the bounty hunters of Cowboy Bebop are mildly less successful than Winston, Chance, and Guerrero, but even then, both Spike and Chance are infamous for causing major, expensive damage in the line of duty. Bounty hunting is also much different than the work Chance does, of course, which is essentially the opposite of bounty hunting.

But besides the series' similarities and differences, the central relationship between the reckless lead and his more sobering partner is one of my favorite parts of Human Target which, to be quite honest, makes better use of this relationship than Cowboy Bebop (but then Cowboy Bebop's got Faye, whom I adore to bits and pieces and I love all of her scenes with Spike so freakin' much).

Human Target doesn't attract a huge audience, which isn't surprising but is still a bit of a disappointment. It follows the good television rule of half procedural and half mythology, allowing current fans to be pleased while not shutting out potential fans. I'm really pleased Human Target's got a second season at all, even if it is in the death slot of Friday. I'm really excited to see more of the adventures Chance, Winston, and Guerrero go on and see a hint more of the mythology. Of course, I doubt the show will last much longer, but I can live with that. After all, Cowboy Bebop only has 26 half-hour episodes and it's still brilliant.

Getting Your Ass Kicked.

Yeah, my apologies as usual for not updating very often.

So I DID see Kick-Ass. Last weekend. When it came out. And yes, I quite liked it. The more I thought about it, though, the more depressing it got for me. It's not depressing like The Dark Knight, where you go in expecting a down movie and get it, but Kick-Ass is advertised as a comedy and the thing is, it is funny... but incredibly sad.

Watch out for potential spoilers, folks. I'll try to be gentle though.

As we all know, Kick-Ass is an average guy. And his first foray into crime-fighting goes very poorly. In fact, he gets stabbed. Then hit by a car. Sure, the getting hit by a car is much worse, but watching him get stabbed was just so painful to me. Once he gets out of the hospital, he's still not very super; just a super punching bag. His "super power" is total defense, which means that to be of any use, he has to get his ass kicked. I took no joy in watching him endure all the pain he does and it is was a sad fanaticism that Kick-Ass pursues his career as a crime-fighter. He's bad at it, he almost gets killed a lot, and his ass is saved by the real super hero, Hit Girl, multiple times. Watching Hit Girl is a delight. Watching Kick-Ass is just so sad.

The movie opens with the question, as we have seen in the trailers, asking why no one else tried being a superhero before Kick-Ass. And after watching this movie, I understand and myself have no desire to pursue a career of crime-fighting. There is no glorious montage where Kick-Ass learns how to fight or actually does any ass-kicking at all. Even his fight with Red Mist toward the end is just a show of his incompetent they both are. With no power, comes no responsibility, sure, but is also means having no power, including all the advantageous parts of being a superhero. While the best superhero stories involve the question of how painful and lonely it can be to be such a powerful figure (see: superhero deconstruction, aka, why I love superheroes), Kick-Ass is so ordinary it is painful to watch him get his ass kicked. When Batman is getting his ass kicked, we know he can handle it, because he is Batman. But Kick-Ass is really just Dave with a scuba suit; his mask is the only thing that makes him different than everyone else. At least Nite Owl and Silk Spectre had some training.

Dave, in the end, is just an average guy in way over his head. He can handle the pain, physically, so he survives because that's his ability: to survive. But that's it. He's just like the faceless human beings that survive with the help of the real, trained, able superheroes, or simply heroes. The tough ones who can endure the pain, but also can't do anything to stop it.

Kick-Ass is not a superhero movie; if it really was, it would be called Hit Girl, because she is the superhero. She's got the training, the bloody fight sequences, and the strong origin story. Kick-Ass is, instead, the story of everyone who is not a superhero, but people like Dave, like me, like every fan on the planet, that dreams even for a second what that life would be like. Kick-Ass shows us that that life sucks. It would be hard and unrewarding. So unless we go to ninja school or have a mother train us for a life of crime-fighting or build a super suit or get bitten by a radioactive spider, we are screwed. Because being a superhero takes more than wanting to be a superhero; it takes dedicating yourself to the role. Dave doesn't do that, so he just manages to scrape through and make a few heroic moves outside of all the non-heroic moments he has in the movie. He's the Bond girl to Hit Girl's Bond; he might lend a hand, but really, he's just normal.

So when I first left the theater, I was a bit disappointed that Dave wasn't more badass, that he wasn't more heroic. But as I thought more about it, I just realized that I wanted him to be tougher because it was hard to see him be so normal. It reminded me just how normal I am and that if I were to try what he tried, to just put on a scuba suit and fight crime, I'd probably get stabbed in the gut too. Superheroes aren't normal. And that's just fine; they shouldn't be. Being good at anything takes real dedication, not just posturing in front of a mirror and doing a few sit-ups.

I'd like to see it again, of course, to further assess it and to understand what it is going to give me rather than what I want out of it. If I want a story of a heroic super-human, I'll watch my Dark Knight or Iron Man DVDs. If I want to be brought back to Earth, well, that's what Kick-Ass is for.

Iron Man 2 hits theaters in 2 weeks. That's good, because I need some badassery to keep me sane.