Michael Bay's sins are many, but none have angered me more than The Last Knight, where we saw a human NOT react to a robot turning into a car.
She was running, the robot turned into a car, and she got in without once acknowledging that there was a robot doing an incredible thing. She didn't even glance in the robot's direction.
She was literally running to the spot where the robot was going to be, like she'd dealt with this sort of thing all the time. It was as if she was instructed just to run to the car and get in, and the animation was added afterwards.
From her point of view, all she was doing was getting into a car. And I think that's why, on a fundamental level, Michael Bay is the worst and his Transformers movies are the worst.
From Bay's perspective, the robots are not characters. They are just special effects for the humans--i.e., the REAL stars--to interact with.
The worst.
And now I'm off to see a new Transformers movie.
It's okay, Bay wasn't involved with this one. All they did was give him a producer's credit or something. There's a good chance this one won't even be racist or sexist.
Thursday, December 20, 2018
Sunday, December 2, 2018
Kingsglaive: Final Fantasy XV
Just watched Kingsglaive. I have a lot of thoughts about this movie, which is never a good sign.
First, I should say that I haven't played the Final Fantasy series in a long time. The last one I played all the way through was FFX. So my first concern was whether there would be a barrier to entry--an unbreachable wall, if you would. To the film's credit, I more or less understood the status quo.
This movie serves as a prequel to the game. I know this because the main characters of the game do not appear until the very end. This was the equivalent of the Star Wars prequel trilogy--or Rogue One, if I'm being generous. The drawback is that none of the featured characters seem very interesting, nor do they seem to have much agency. Their character arc is to sacrifice themselves so that the (hopefully) more interesting main characters can do the job in the video game. It's like someone made an entire movie about Biggs Darklighter.
It felt very much like no characters in the movie made any real decisions. The movie was a series of cutscenes, tolerating no deviation. All momentum, no humanity. The Uncanny Valley didn't help either.
The characters are little more than archetypes with a bit of backstory. Our stalwart hero is interchangeable with any number of stalwart heroes. He is a soldier who talks of duty and lofty ideals. For that matter, the king and the princess do as well. There are almost no scenes that humanize these characters, save perhaps a few that occur very early in the movie and become buried by the subsequent action sequences. I mean, tell a fucking joke! It's hard to take seriousness seriously these days! You have to break it up with human moments!
The themes of the film seem almost irrelevant. They appear only in dialogue characters exchange when they are confronting one another. The villain can't break free from the past; the hero fights for the future. I'm not even sure why the protagonists and antagonists always talk to each other while they're trying to kill each other. When did that trope begin? "I'm trying to kill you, but first I must convince you that my perspective is correct."
The action sequences are flashy and extravagant. And also boring. As usual, the stakes are as high as they could possibly be, probably to match the budget. But it is folly to create such lengthy sequences without doing everything you can to make sure we care. Filmmakers seem to think that they need good action sequences to make us care about the story. In reality, they need good story to make us care about the action. Most of my favorite moments from Die Hard are the human moments. I barely remember the large action sequences. And the industry's inability to recognize that a good story should always come first is... exhausting.
And it's not like there wasn't room for a good story. There was clearly a lot of love and attention given to this movie's characters and lore. But as with the recent Fantastic Beasts film, none of that love and attention translated to a movie that told its story well.
First, I should say that I haven't played the Final Fantasy series in a long time. The last one I played all the way through was FFX. So my first concern was whether there would be a barrier to entry--an unbreachable wall, if you would. To the film's credit, I more or less understood the status quo.
This movie serves as a prequel to the game. I know this because the main characters of the game do not appear until the very end. This was the equivalent of the Star Wars prequel trilogy--or Rogue One, if I'm being generous. The drawback is that none of the featured characters seem very interesting, nor do they seem to have much agency. Their character arc is to sacrifice themselves so that the (hopefully) more interesting main characters can do the job in the video game. It's like someone made an entire movie about Biggs Darklighter.
It felt very much like no characters in the movie made any real decisions. The movie was a series of cutscenes, tolerating no deviation. All momentum, no humanity. The Uncanny Valley didn't help either.
The characters are little more than archetypes with a bit of backstory. Our stalwart hero is interchangeable with any number of stalwart heroes. He is a soldier who talks of duty and lofty ideals. For that matter, the king and the princess do as well. There are almost no scenes that humanize these characters, save perhaps a few that occur very early in the movie and become buried by the subsequent action sequences. I mean, tell a fucking joke! It's hard to take seriousness seriously these days! You have to break it up with human moments!
The themes of the film seem almost irrelevant. They appear only in dialogue characters exchange when they are confronting one another. The villain can't break free from the past; the hero fights for the future. I'm not even sure why the protagonists and antagonists always talk to each other while they're trying to kill each other. When did that trope begin? "I'm trying to kill you, but first I must convince you that my perspective is correct."
The action sequences are flashy and extravagant. And also boring. As usual, the stakes are as high as they could possibly be, probably to match the budget. But it is folly to create such lengthy sequences without doing everything you can to make sure we care. Filmmakers seem to think that they need good action sequences to make us care about the story. In reality, they need good story to make us care about the action. Most of my favorite moments from Die Hard are the human moments. I barely remember the large action sequences. And the industry's inability to recognize that a good story should always come first is... exhausting.
And it's not like there wasn't room for a good story. There was clearly a lot of love and attention given to this movie's characters and lore. But as with the recent Fantastic Beasts film, none of that love and attention translated to a movie that told its story well.
Thursday, September 20, 2018
What do wrestling and comics have in common?
In wrestling, there is a moment when things aren't looking good for our babyface. In that moment, our face starts reaching out to the audience. "Only your cheers can save me," they seem to say.
Maybe they summon cheers and chants by reaching and wiggling their finger, as if trying to grasp something just out of reach. Maybe they start stomping on the mat to encourage the audience to clap.
Most of the time the audience is happy to do so. The audience likes to participate. But it's also kind of a problem.
It's very telling that the audience is being "cued." It reveals that the audience's attention and engagement is not in sync with the match happening right in front of them.
With a bloated roster that does nothing but expand, it makes sense that the audience might seem aloof. There is so much wrestling being offered, but I'd wager only a handful of fans care about every match. After all, everyone has their favorites.
I've said this before: Watching WWE is a lot like consuming a comics publisher's entire line of comics in one sitting. Some fans just want to read the Batman or Wonder Woman comics, but they are also getting Green Lantern and Aquaman. It takes a special kind of talent to make me care about the likes of Green Lantern and Aquaman, and I'm not just talking about the talent of the individual wrestlers.
The problem with wrestling is essentially the same as the problem with comics. There's very little difference on the surface. Good guys vs. bad guys. Shocking twists. The occasional payoff.
The thing is, comics have done a much better job over the years of reinventing itself. They've learned how to bend the rules without breaking them. Meanwhile, wrestling (specifically WWE) isn't all that different from how they've been in the '80s.
Think about Chris Claremont and his run on X-Men. He defined the X-Men, arguably more than Stan Lee did. It was his vision that saved X-Men from cancellation. But here's the thing: he stayed on the book too long. It got stale. His voice--his stories--grew to be out of sync with the audience. In addition, the product was diluted with numerous spinoffs and companion books. (The X-Men "world" is notoriously difficult to keep track of.) They were popular, so there was more money to be made by producing more product.
At this moment, WWE has many shows. There's the flagship show (Raw), it's companion show (SmackDown Live), it's niche shows (NXT, 205 Live), its special projects (tournaments like Mae Young Classic, or the experimental Facebook show Mixed Match Challenge), and its pay per views (WrestleMania, SummerSlam, etc.). That doesn't even include its "noncanonical" shows (like Main Event).
The product is bloated. Twenty X-Men books bloated. Yes, they have several of the most talented wrestlers in the world, but they are essentially telling the same story: good guys and bad guys.
If I were to pick just one show to watch, it would be NXT. With only one hour a week, they have been able to get to the core of what makes wrestling great: story and talent. Talent alone will not get the job done. The audience no longer recognizes talent because there's just so much of it. There needs to be story, and the stories need to be different. The wrestlers need to be well defined, but more than that they need to set themselves apart from the others. But that's hard to do when you have a roster this big. Much of the time, it feels like you're watching a rerun. "Haven't I seen this before?"
NXT does the best job of taking the raw WWE talent and cultivating it into both unique characters and compelling stories.
Unfortunately, by design, much of this talent is "called up" to the main roster (either Raw or SmackDown). You know that awesome X-Men story you just read? Well, those characters were just handed to a creative team that doesn't really "get" them.
Once they reach the main roster, much effort is put into rebuilding these characters from the ground up. NXT does this amazing job of developing these guys, and then the main roster slams the brakes on that momentum. Why? Because the audience for NXT is not necessarily the same audience as the main roster. Remember, NXT is a "niche" show--as much as anything with a WWE brand (that also has action figures at Target) can be considered niche.
This causes cognitive dissonance. It makes me feel like I'm not seeing the same character that was so engaging in NXT--it feels like a new, alternative universe version of that character. Like when a new creative team takes over a comic. On the surface, everything looks the same, but certain inconsistencies pop up. Sometimes Batman remembers who killed his parents; sometimes he doesn't.
It makes the product convoluted, complicated. It needs to be streamlined. It needs compelling stories. It needs a consistent vision. It needs a vision that is in touch with what fans react to. It needs to take risks and experiment with the format. It needs to be different from the way it was 30 years ago.
Comics change from decade to decade. In one decade, they were lighthearted and goofy. In another decade, they were serious and dramatic. In another decade, they became more tonally balanced. Each time, they recognized a need to change. Marvel and DC--they are essentially the WWE of comics. They fall under one umbrella known as the Big Two. Like WWE, they are too big. Unlike WWE, they have changed. They will continue to try new things. They can do this, because their size relative to WWE's is still quite small. There is not a comic published today that has as many as 1 million readers. WWE has several million fans. Superheroes have a lot more room (and need) for growth, even though they consume too much of the retailer's shelf space. The Big Two, despite being too big, still feel like underdogs. They are on TV and in movie theaters, but that doesn't translate to book sales. Meanwhile, WWE is like Galactus, constantly growing and spreading, consuming all the talent, shitting out the product. It's exactly what DC and Marvel would become if given the chance. It's what DC and Marvel were in the '90s.
One major difference between comics and WWE is how they engage the fans. Comics has done a better job of listening to what fans want. Maybe not right away, but they do come around. When people were upset about how women are portrayed, we (eventually) started seeing more books led by women (both characters and creators). Change is slow and frustrating in comics, but it happens.
In WWE, change is an illusion. Everything that appears to be "progress" in WWE feels hollow, shallow, cynical. As with comics, the audience demanded more and better representation for women. So WWE developed their women's roster--stopped calling them "divas." The "let" the women have the main event. They celebrate every "first" (first main event, first cage match, first iron man match). So inspiring, right? But here's how you know it's just a cash grab--the women tend to get only 10 to 15 percent of total air time.
WWE doesn't take risks the same way comics does. They won't put the women in the lead role. Not right away. Not until they know it's "safe." And then they will pat themselves on the back for breaking barriers. Led by the same mind and vision that brought us bra and panties matches. Comics understood that it was time for Chris Claremont to stop writing X-Men. The problem with WWE is that "Chris Claremont" is also the owner, and he'll die before he stops writing those X-Men books.
Maybe they summon cheers and chants by reaching and wiggling their finger, as if trying to grasp something just out of reach. Maybe they start stomping on the mat to encourage the audience to clap.
Most of the time the audience is happy to do so. The audience likes to participate. But it's also kind of a problem.
It's very telling that the audience is being "cued." It reveals that the audience's attention and engagement is not in sync with the match happening right in front of them.
With a bloated roster that does nothing but expand, it makes sense that the audience might seem aloof. There is so much wrestling being offered, but I'd wager only a handful of fans care about every match. After all, everyone has their favorites.
I've said this before: Watching WWE is a lot like consuming a comics publisher's entire line of comics in one sitting. Some fans just want to read the Batman or Wonder Woman comics, but they are also getting Green Lantern and Aquaman. It takes a special kind of talent to make me care about the likes of Green Lantern and Aquaman, and I'm not just talking about the talent of the individual wrestlers.
The problem with wrestling is essentially the same as the problem with comics. There's very little difference on the surface. Good guys vs. bad guys. Shocking twists. The occasional payoff.
The thing is, comics have done a much better job over the years of reinventing itself. They've learned how to bend the rules without breaking them. Meanwhile, wrestling (specifically WWE) isn't all that different from how they've been in the '80s.
Think about Chris Claremont and his run on X-Men. He defined the X-Men, arguably more than Stan Lee did. It was his vision that saved X-Men from cancellation. But here's the thing: he stayed on the book too long. It got stale. His voice--his stories--grew to be out of sync with the audience. In addition, the product was diluted with numerous spinoffs and companion books. (The X-Men "world" is notoriously difficult to keep track of.) They were popular, so there was more money to be made by producing more product.
At this moment, WWE has many shows. There's the flagship show (Raw), it's companion show (SmackDown Live), it's niche shows (NXT, 205 Live), its special projects (tournaments like Mae Young Classic, or the experimental Facebook show Mixed Match Challenge), and its pay per views (WrestleMania, SummerSlam, etc.). That doesn't even include its "noncanonical" shows (like Main Event).
The product is bloated. Twenty X-Men books bloated. Yes, they have several of the most talented wrestlers in the world, but they are essentially telling the same story: good guys and bad guys.
If I were to pick just one show to watch, it would be NXT. With only one hour a week, they have been able to get to the core of what makes wrestling great: story and talent. Talent alone will not get the job done. The audience no longer recognizes talent because there's just so much of it. There needs to be story, and the stories need to be different. The wrestlers need to be well defined, but more than that they need to set themselves apart from the others. But that's hard to do when you have a roster this big. Much of the time, it feels like you're watching a rerun. "Haven't I seen this before?"
NXT does the best job of taking the raw WWE talent and cultivating it into both unique characters and compelling stories.
Unfortunately, by design, much of this talent is "called up" to the main roster (either Raw or SmackDown). You know that awesome X-Men story you just read? Well, those characters were just handed to a creative team that doesn't really "get" them.
Once they reach the main roster, much effort is put into rebuilding these characters from the ground up. NXT does this amazing job of developing these guys, and then the main roster slams the brakes on that momentum. Why? Because the audience for NXT is not necessarily the same audience as the main roster. Remember, NXT is a "niche" show--as much as anything with a WWE brand (that also has action figures at Target) can be considered niche.
This causes cognitive dissonance. It makes me feel like I'm not seeing the same character that was so engaging in NXT--it feels like a new, alternative universe version of that character. Like when a new creative team takes over a comic. On the surface, everything looks the same, but certain inconsistencies pop up. Sometimes Batman remembers who killed his parents; sometimes he doesn't.
It makes the product convoluted, complicated. It needs to be streamlined. It needs compelling stories. It needs a consistent vision. It needs a vision that is in touch with what fans react to. It needs to take risks and experiment with the format. It needs to be different from the way it was 30 years ago.
Comics change from decade to decade. In one decade, they were lighthearted and goofy. In another decade, they were serious and dramatic. In another decade, they became more tonally balanced. Each time, they recognized a need to change. Marvel and DC--they are essentially the WWE of comics. They fall under one umbrella known as the Big Two. Like WWE, they are too big. Unlike WWE, they have changed. They will continue to try new things. They can do this, because their size relative to WWE's is still quite small. There is not a comic published today that has as many as 1 million readers. WWE has several million fans. Superheroes have a lot more room (and need) for growth, even though they consume too much of the retailer's shelf space. The Big Two, despite being too big, still feel like underdogs. They are on TV and in movie theaters, but that doesn't translate to book sales. Meanwhile, WWE is like Galactus, constantly growing and spreading, consuming all the talent, shitting out the product. It's exactly what DC and Marvel would become if given the chance. It's what DC and Marvel were in the '90s.
One major difference between comics and WWE is how they engage the fans. Comics has done a better job of listening to what fans want. Maybe not right away, but they do come around. When people were upset about how women are portrayed, we (eventually) started seeing more books led by women (both characters and creators). Change is slow and frustrating in comics, but it happens.
In WWE, change is an illusion. Everything that appears to be "progress" in WWE feels hollow, shallow, cynical. As with comics, the audience demanded more and better representation for women. So WWE developed their women's roster--stopped calling them "divas." The "let" the women have the main event. They celebrate every "first" (first main event, first cage match, first iron man match). So inspiring, right? But here's how you know it's just a cash grab--the women tend to get only 10 to 15 percent of total air time.
WWE doesn't take risks the same way comics does. They won't put the women in the lead role. Not right away. Not until they know it's "safe." And then they will pat themselves on the back for breaking barriers. Led by the same mind and vision that brought us bra and panties matches. Comics understood that it was time for Chris Claremont to stop writing X-Men. The problem with WWE is that "Chris Claremont" is also the owner, and he'll die before he stops writing those X-Men books.
Sunday, March 11, 2018
Rereading Sandman
I've begun what is probably my fifth reading of Neil Gaiman's Sandman, though I guess it could be my sixth. (Memory is not always a strength of mine.) Each time I read this series, the experience is different. But unlike the Dark Knight Returns (where the experience gets worse with each reading) or Watchmen (where the experience stayed the same), with Sandman I find different things to admire, different discoveries. This time around, I'm looking for simple things, subtle things. But along the way, I am also taking note of Gaiman's propensity for representation, and how seamlessly he seems to do it. This makes sense, as he strikes me as someone who sees humanity in everyone, including (and perhaps especially) the villains.
The most terrifying parts of Sandman are the things Gaiman does not explain. He has an explanation for the lifecycle of gods, but he does not explain why the grove of "suicide trees" has now become a forest. There are things about human nature--human lives--that are frightening simply because we don't have the answers.
Sandman strikes me as a very inclusive book, which is probably one reason why it brought in so many new readers and is so beloved to this day. How it took Hollywood this many decades to realize there was money to be made by being inclusive is baffling, because the answer was there the whole time.
The most terrifying parts of Sandman are the things Gaiman does not explain. He has an explanation for the lifecycle of gods, but he does not explain why the grove of "suicide trees" has now become a forest. There are things about human nature--human lives--that are frightening simply because we don't have the answers.
Friday, March 9, 2018
Comic Relief #5: Cycles
Mike, Ben, and Chan are watching a movie at Mike’s place. Chan has finished his bacon and left behind a greasy plate on the coffee table.
The movie ends.
Chan: Well, I’m starving. Who wants to hit the bar?
Ben: I’m down for that.
Mike: Um…
Ben: Mike? Why do you hesitate?
FLASHBACK
Mike is at the bar, in conversation with a woman. He extends his hand.
Mike: I’m Mike, by the way.
Chan insinuates himself and throws an arm over Mike’s shoulder.
Chan: Mike’s the best! Hope you don’t mind how much he watches hentai!
Mike: I… I don’t watch hentai. Not as much as you’d think.
The woman removes herself.
Chan: Aw, Mike. I guess it wasn’t meant to be.
ANOTHER FLASHBACK
Mike is at the bar, sitting with Chan.
Chan: You know what you’re problem is, Mike? You have a crippling fear of failure. You’re what men call other men a “pussy.”
Mike: I wish you wouldn’t use that word?
Chan: Word? What word? PUSSY?
The people immediately surrounding them go silent.
Chan: What’s wrong with that word? It’s what you are, isn’t it?
ANOTHER FLASHBACK
Mike and Chan are at the bar.
Chan: Hey, Mike, remember the time you pissed yourself when I had you in that wrestling hold? The Sharpshooter?
Mike stares down his glass.
Chan: Mike? What’s up? You’re awfully quiet.
Mike: Chan, I appreciate that you care about me and are always trying to encourage me to step out of my comfort zone, but can’t you think of a better way to do it than publicly humiliating and emasculating me?
Chan: What are you talking about? It’s funny, isn’t it?
Mike: It depends, I guess.
Chan: Yeah? Well, what about all those stories you write? Where does all the humor come from? It comes from you—I’m sorry, your “character”—being constantly humiliated and shamed.
Mike: Yeah, well… It’s actually not very fun. For him.
Chan: What do you want me to do about it? I’m out here having a good time with my friends. You’re the one who decided to be upset. That’s on you.
Chan gulps down his beer.
Chan: I bet you’re gonna make me out to be a villain in one of your stories. You encourage us to laugh at how non-manly you are, but the moment something upsets you in real life, the moment these traits are no longer convenient fodder for cheesy stories, you want some empathy. So let me ask you this—are we supposed to be laughing at you, or sympathizing with you? Are you writing a comedy, or a tragedy?
Mike: I’m not a character in a story.
Chan: But aren’t you, though? Aren’t you just taking your own qualities, magnifying them, and holding them up for scrutiny? Aren’t you inviting people not just to judge your stories and characters, but to judge yourself? And if you can’t handle that, how could you possibly make it as a writer? Except you haven’t made it, have you? You’ve already given up on those dreams. That’s why you’re writing garbage blog stories instead of a book or a movie.
THE PRESENT
Ben: Mike? You still with us?
Mike blinks.
Mike: Yeah. A bar sounds great.
The movie ends.
Chan: Well, I’m starving. Who wants to hit the bar?
Ben: I’m down for that.
Mike: Um…
Ben: Mike? Why do you hesitate?
FLASHBACK
Mike is at the bar, in conversation with a woman. He extends his hand.
Mike: I’m Mike, by the way.
Chan insinuates himself and throws an arm over Mike’s shoulder.
Chan: Mike’s the best! Hope you don’t mind how much he watches hentai!
Mike: I… I don’t watch hentai. Not as much as you’d think.
The woman removes herself.
Chan: Aw, Mike. I guess it wasn’t meant to be.
ANOTHER FLASHBACK
Mike is at the bar, sitting with Chan.
Chan: You know what you’re problem is, Mike? You have a crippling fear of failure. You’re what men call other men a “pussy.”
Mike: I wish you wouldn’t use that word?
Chan: Word? What word? PUSSY?
The people immediately surrounding them go silent.
Chan: What’s wrong with that word? It’s what you are, isn’t it?
ANOTHER FLASHBACK
Mike and Chan are at the bar.
Chan: Hey, Mike, remember the time you pissed yourself when I had you in that wrestling hold? The Sharpshooter?
Mike stares down his glass.
Chan: Mike? What’s up? You’re awfully quiet.
Mike: Chan, I appreciate that you care about me and are always trying to encourage me to step out of my comfort zone, but can’t you think of a better way to do it than publicly humiliating and emasculating me?
Chan: What are you talking about? It’s funny, isn’t it?
Mike: It depends, I guess.
Chan: Yeah? Well, what about all those stories you write? Where does all the humor come from? It comes from you—I’m sorry, your “character”—being constantly humiliated and shamed.
Mike: Yeah, well… It’s actually not very fun. For him.
Chan: What do you want me to do about it? I’m out here having a good time with my friends. You’re the one who decided to be upset. That’s on you.
Chan gulps down his beer.
Chan: I bet you’re gonna make me out to be a villain in one of your stories. You encourage us to laugh at how non-manly you are, but the moment something upsets you in real life, the moment these traits are no longer convenient fodder for cheesy stories, you want some empathy. So let me ask you this—are we supposed to be laughing at you, or sympathizing with you? Are you writing a comedy, or a tragedy?
Mike: I’m not a character in a story.
Chan: But aren’t you, though? Aren’t you just taking your own qualities, magnifying them, and holding them up for scrutiny? Aren’t you inviting people not just to judge your stories and characters, but to judge yourself? And if you can’t handle that, how could you possibly make it as a writer? Except you haven’t made it, have you? You’ve already given up on those dreams. That’s why you’re writing garbage blog stories instead of a book or a movie.
THE PRESENT
Ben: Mike? You still with us?
Mike blinks.
Mike: Yeah. A bar sounds great.
Comic Relief #4: Chan Returns
There is a knock on the door. Mike and Ben look away from their movie.
Ben: You expecting someone?
Silence.
Ben: You are granted permission to speak.
Mike: No, I’m not.
Another knock.
Mike: Should I… answer it?
Ben shrugs.
Ben: It’s your house.
Mike stands and goes to the door. He looks through the peephole.
Mike: Hey! It’s our good friend Chan!
Mike opens the door.
Chan: How’s it going, you fucking J...
Chan freezes. He clears his throat.
Chan: Let me try that again. How’s it going you… you fucking…
Mike: What’s the matter?
Chan: Nothing. I’m just trying to say that thing I said back then. The thing that made everybody laugh.
Ben: Your catchphrase.
Chan: I wouldn’t call it my catchphrase. It was just this thing I said this one time, and then several times after that. Give me a second. I can do this.
Chan takes a deep breath.
Chan: How’s it going, you fucking J… J… jerks!
Mike and Ben glance at each other, then at Chan.
Mike: Was that what you used to say back then? Because I have to say, it’s not as funny now.
Chan: I couldn’t say it. I guess I’m not the same guy I was back then. God, I’m depressed.
Mike: You wanna come in and watch a movie that reveres toxic masculinity?
Chan: Are there guns?
Mike: So many guns.
Chan: That does sound pretty cool.
Chan enters. We now see he carries a large plate of bacon.
Mike: Oh. That explains why you smell so good.
Ben is suspicious.
Ben: Hey, what were you going to do with that?
Chan: I dunno. At first I thought it would be really funny if I threw bacon at you guys. But that’s the old me, I guess. Now I just wanna hang out with you guys. And eat bacon.
Mike: That actually sounds like a great idea.
They sit down on the couch, Chan in the middle, the plate of bacon sitting on the coffee table in front of them. The coffee table literally did not exist until the words were typed. But now you must accept the lie that it was there the whole time. Because that’s how writing works.
Chan: So what’s this movie about?
Ben: The hero’s family was killed—
Chan: So he buys a gun and goes on a killing spree?
Ben: Yep.
Chan: Sounds like quality entertainment.
Mike and Ben reach for some bacon.
Chan: No. Mine.
Ben: (muttering) Stupid patriarchy.
Ben: You expecting someone?
Silence.
Ben: You are granted permission to speak.
Mike: No, I’m not.
Another knock.
Mike: Should I… answer it?
Ben shrugs.
Ben: It’s your house.
Mike stands and goes to the door. He looks through the peephole.
Mike: Hey! It’s our good friend Chan!
Mike opens the door.
Chan: How’s it going, you fucking J...
Chan freezes. He clears his throat.
Chan: Let me try that again. How’s it going you… you fucking…
Mike: What’s the matter?
Chan: Nothing. I’m just trying to say that thing I said back then. The thing that made everybody laugh.
Ben: Your catchphrase.
Chan: I wouldn’t call it my catchphrase. It was just this thing I said this one time, and then several times after that. Give me a second. I can do this.
Chan takes a deep breath.
Chan: How’s it going, you fucking J… J… jerks!
Mike and Ben glance at each other, then at Chan.
Mike: Was that what you used to say back then? Because I have to say, it’s not as funny now.
Chan: I couldn’t say it. I guess I’m not the same guy I was back then. God, I’m depressed.
Mike: You wanna come in and watch a movie that reveres toxic masculinity?
Chan: Are there guns?
Mike: So many guns.
Chan: That does sound pretty cool.
Chan enters. We now see he carries a large plate of bacon.
Mike: Oh. That explains why you smell so good.
Ben is suspicious.
Ben: Hey, what were you going to do with that?
Chan: I dunno. At first I thought it would be really funny if I threw bacon at you guys. But that’s the old me, I guess. Now I just wanna hang out with you guys. And eat bacon.
Mike: That actually sounds like a great idea.
They sit down on the couch, Chan in the middle, the plate of bacon sitting on the coffee table in front of them. The coffee table literally did not exist until the words were typed. But now you must accept the lie that it was there the whole time. Because that’s how writing works.
Chan: So what’s this movie about?
Ben: The hero’s family was killed—
Chan: So he buys a gun and goes on a killing spree?
Ben: Yep.
Chan: Sounds like quality entertainment.
Mike and Ben reach for some bacon.
Chan: No. Mine.
Ben: (muttering) Stupid patriarchy.
Comic Relief #3: Men
Mike and Ben are sitting on the couch. They are watching a movie.
The hero of the film sits alone on a park bench.
Hero: I did everything I was supposed to do. I did everything right. But now my family’s dead. And I couldn’t protect them. I failed them. I failed as a human being. And worst of all, I failed as a man. The only logical thing to do is get a gun and live out my revenge fantasy until I have somehow reclaimed my manhood.
Mike: They’re laying on the patriarchal thinking kinda thick, don’t you think?
Ben: What have I told you about talking during movies?
Mike: That only you can do it?
Ben: Now say you’re sorry.
Mike: But that would be talking.
Ben: ARE YOU CONTRADICTING ME?
Mike: No, no, I’m sorry!
Ben: I TOLD YOU TO STOP TALKING!
Mike: You don’t have to be so toxic.
Ben’s eyes slowly turn in their sockets toward Mike. His head likewise follows. He is now looking at Mike. He raises his hand high in the air.
Ben: Finish this sentence—when Ben’s hand goes up…
Silence.
Ben: I said. Finish. This. Sentence. When Ben’s hand goes up…
Silence.
Ben: This is the last time. When Ben’s hand goes up…
Mike: …Mike’s mouth goes shut.
Ben slaps him with his raised hand.
Ben: NO TALKING!
Mike: (aside) Stupid patriarchy.
The hero of the film sits alone on a park bench.
Hero: I did everything I was supposed to do. I did everything right. But now my family’s dead. And I couldn’t protect them. I failed them. I failed as a human being. And worst of all, I failed as a man. The only logical thing to do is get a gun and live out my revenge fantasy until I have somehow reclaimed my manhood.
Mike: They’re laying on the patriarchal thinking kinda thick, don’t you think?
Ben: What have I told you about talking during movies?
Mike: That only you can do it?
Ben: Now say you’re sorry.
Mike: But that would be talking.
Ben: ARE YOU CONTRADICTING ME?
Mike: No, no, I’m sorry!
Ben: I TOLD YOU TO STOP TALKING!
Mike: You don’t have to be so toxic.
Ben’s eyes slowly turn in their sockets toward Mike. His head likewise follows. He is now looking at Mike. He raises his hand high in the air.
Ben: Finish this sentence—when Ben’s hand goes up…
Silence.
Ben: I said. Finish. This. Sentence. When Ben’s hand goes up…
Silence.
Ben: This is the last time. When Ben’s hand goes up…
Mike: …Mike’s mouth goes shut.
Ben slaps him with his raised hand.
Ben: NO TALKING!
Mike: (aside) Stupid patriarchy.
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