Bright and its sequel, Bright:Samurai Soul, are two of the best things on Netflix (after Arcane).
When Bright (starring Will Smith) first came out, I, like a lot of others, thought and hoped that it was a pilot for a new series. It was awesome. Set in modern day LA, it posits a world where humans live alongside elves, orcs, pixies, fairies, centaurs, dwarves, and other creatures.
In this world, humans are second-class citizens and orcs are third-class. Elves rule the world. It’s an interesting premise, a twist on urban fantasy, and the best thing about it (at least for me) was that magic was used sparingly.
Better than the world, were the characters. Will Smith has played this cop character before, in I, Robot*, and he does it well. Even better was Joel Edgerton’s portrayal of his orc partner. There was plenty of character conflict between the first-ever-orc policeman and his human partner. The movie grabbed me from the start and held me to the end and I really, really wanted more.
Upon rewatching it recently, I discovered that it had a sequel, an anime of all things, called Bright: Samurai Soul. The same premise but in Meiji Restoration Japan? Yes! I went into it primed to like it and it delivered. The one critical item I have on the anime was the choice in colors for the landscape. (My eyes. Please respect my eyes.) But it was not enough to make me look away or keep me from rewatching it. It’s quickly become one of those “I have nothing to watch” go-to kind of movies.
I highly recommend both, by the way, and I want more. More live action. More anime. And I want it now. Why isn’t Hollywood making more of these kinds of movies?
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Conquest (Book 1)
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Ascension (Book 2)
Cover for Ravages of Honor Lineage
Cover for Dominion: A Ravages of Honor Novella
Cover for Featherlight: A Ravages of Honor Novella
*As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.
It never ceases to amaze me, how some series get all the hype yet fail to deliver on it while others languish without any hype at all. The Cinemax/HBOmax series, Warrior*, (based on the writings of Bruce Lee) was a stunning surprise. It is—dare I say it?—excellent.
During the Tong Wars in the late 1800s, Ah Sahm, a martial arts prodigy from China, immigrates to San Francisco and becomes a hatchet man for the most powerful tong in Chinatown.
–IMDB
There are two seasons available through various outlets (streaming) and according to parade.com it has been renewed for a third season.
While it has plenty of action (including the Hulk!Smash! variety) it also has wonderful characters and a great plot that stands on its own. The fight sequences are fantastic (as you’d expect from something like this) but what really impressed me was that when showing women fighting, we (sometimes) got some real-world physics and consequences. They were not afraid to show us what actually happens to a woman’s body when she goes up against opponents who are bigger and stronger.
Rather than focus on the events/plot, I will focus on the characters and their relationships. I am, after all, a writer who values those things in both what she produces and what she consumes. Rest assured, if you are an action junkie, you’ll like this show. So if all you watch for is Hulk!Smash!, I don’t think you’ll be wasting your time with it at all.
Let me preface my comments with the fact that I have no idea how historically accurate any of this is. Nor do I care. Be warned that there is plenty of gore and violence as well as nudity and on-screen rape (more on that later).
Ah Sahm
Ah Sahm, the series protagonist (played by Andrew Koji) arrives in San Francisco, looking for his sister. He ends up in the Hop Wei tong and while he does find her pretty quickly, beware the plot twist. She is the mistress/concubine of the rival tong, the Long Zii. This immediately sets up a lot of plot and character complexity as these two siblings have to walk a very fine line. It doesn’t help that she turns out to be a real bitch either, all for good reason, making the storyline richer for it.
Ah Toy
Ah Toy (played by Olivia Cheng) is not your typical madam/hooker with a heart of gold. While I’m a little fuzzy on how she (and other women in her sphere) ended up sold into prostitution given their ability to wield a blade, her storyline turned out to be one of the more interesting ones. Actually, it turned out to be my favorite one, for two reasons.
First, we are shown that women are not the physical equals of men, not even when well-trained. In other words, the writers didn’t break their world in order to make women win. Because of that, their victories actually mean something. Their agency means something. It was not handed to them because it was in the script. In other words, it’s not agency if it’s given to you.
Second, the story takes on the issue of rape, sexual assault, and human trafficking in a way that those things aren’t in the story just to score cheap emotional, political, or social points.
Part of Ah Toy’s storyline has to do with freeing women who’ve been forced into prostitution, who’ve been raped and abused. Not just freeing them (which could still result in them being exploited by others) but in providing them with a place to work and live that was actually safe. And I have to admit, that at first, I was concerned that Ah Toy and Nellie Davenport (a wealthy widow played by Miranda Raison) had a dark side to them that just hadn’t been revealed.
In line with the grittiness of the show, the rating is TV-MA. If you don’t want to see rape and torture, then this is probably not the show for you.
Which brings me to an aside about how rape and sexual assault are treated in fiction.
Stop using rape as a gratuitous plot point.
If you're going to use rape or sexual assault as a plot device you must do more than fade to black. I am sick and tired of writers using such a traumatic experience as their kick-the-dog (to show us who the bad guy is) or a pet-the-dog (to show us who the good guy is) and marginalizing it by doing nothing more with it. If you're going to victimize a character for emotional points you need to do more than have her go, "My hero, you saved me." If you don't have the courage to deal with it story-wise at a deeper level (whether or not it's on the page) then make up some other kick/pet-the-dog moment. Do your damned job and stop using rape as a gratuitous plot point.
To paraphrase Chesterton: Stories don't tell us that monsters exist. We already know they exist. Stories tell us that monsters can be killed.
Do more than tell though. Show us. There is a rule of thumb in fiction that if something is important it deserves word-count. If you're going to use rape as something other than a cheap, gratuitous story-telling device, you need to devote some word-count to it. That doesn't necessarily mean have it on the page, but it does mean dealing with it on some deeper level. If you're not prepared to do that, don't use it. Your Gary-Stu and his side kick Joe Ego can stop a purse-snatcher as well as a rape. Have him do that instead if your treatment begins and ends with is "My hero, you saved me."
End rant.
Richard Henry Lee
Richard Henry Lee (played by Tom Weston-Jones) turned out to be one of the more interesting characters. He is an intriguing character because he turns out to be far more racially tolerant than his counterparts. Given his background (he is from the post-Civil War South) this was an interesting twist. He gives us one of the more unique viewpoints on the immigration- and racial-prejudice that is woven into the story’s background. While there are plenty of morally gray characters in this, this one definitely stands out.
Wang Chao
Played by actor Hoon Lee, Wang Chao is a blackmarket salesman with a sophisticated veneer. While he doesn’t get nearly as much screen time as some of the others and his character is a morally gray one, the storyline with his daughter is heart wrenching. I have a soft spot for men who do right by their little girls.
The series overall
It’s really easy for a series to rely solely on the monster-of-the-week or the crime-of-the-week or the conflict-of-the-week to carry it through several seasons. One can hardly blame them–static characters that don’t change can carry fifteen seasons of repetitive programming and everyone cashes in while squeezing blood out of that particular turnip. While a winning formula, it does tend to leave one feeling rather hollow. With only two seasons under its belt, Warrior has not been around long enough to know if it’s going to fall into that same-old-same-old trap. There was enough character progression in the first two seasons to satisfy me. And some of it just outright surprised me. Well done, folks. Keep it up.
*As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Conquest (Book 1)
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Ascension (Book 2)
Cover for Ravages of Honor Lineage
Cover for Dominion: A Ravages of Honor Novella
Cover for Featherlight: A Ravages of Honor Novella
I’ve been a huge fan of The Mummy* (starring Brendan Frasier) since it first came out in 1999, i.e. over 20 years ago when I knew little to nothing of storytelling technique or character development or any of the other things that we could point at and say, objectively, this is why this movie/character/plot works so well.
Since this is such an old movie, I’m not going to bother worrying about spoilers. So if that’s a thing for you, you may want to stop here and come back after you’ve seen it.
The Prologue
The movie opens with what is probably one of the best prologues I’ve ever seen. It’s not an info dump or context-less world-building like an article or encyclopedia entry.
First it gives us a hook.
Second it introduces us to some very important characters, the Medjai leader Ardeth Bay (played by Oded Fahr who has a great narrator voice) and the villain, Imhotep (played by Arnold Vosloo). But more importantly it establishes Imhotep as a sympathetic character motivated by forbidden love. This is very important for this story where the villain could easily have been a caricature of evil. Instead we have the perfect villain, the flip-side of the coin for our hero, Rick O’Connell (played by Brendan Fraser). Imhotep is Rick if he were evil and he is perfect because he is motivated by exactly the same things as Rick himself–love. Since Rick doesn’t start out in love, Imhotep’s love story provides a deep emotional resonance right up front in a movie that is far more a funny action adventure than a straight-up romance.
Evie, our heroine
Enter Evie (Rachel Weisz), who is immediately portrayed as a strong FEMALE CHARACTER rather than a STRONG FEMALE character (read as a Mary-Sue caricature of woman, a man-with-boobs, a vomit-inducing example of toxicity that embodies arrogance by being the strongest, fastest, smartest, most kick-ass person of every room she walks into). Unlike Star Wars’* Rae and Marvel’s* Captain Marvel, Evie is the strong character (who just happens to be a woman) that we need and want.
If you're one of those who thinks that a woman is the physical equal of a man, or that women of the past should conform to modern delusions about women's physical prowess, then you may want to stop reading here.
Evie is the brains of the operation as well as a damsel in distress, the driving force as well as the stakes character. She fulfills all these roles so well precisely because she is NOT the strongest, nor fastest, nor smartest, nor most kick-ass person in any room (much less all of them).
Solid roots in the reality of her world
She is a librarian with obvious faults. She is clumsy but doesn’t immediately shed that clumsiness when a combat scene requires it. She is smart, but she doesn’t have to walk into every situation an announce it, via “Hey, everyone, I have a chip on my shoulder about being a woman in a man’s world.” Instead, like Elizabeth Bennett in Pride and Prejudice*, she works within the parameters of her world without having the world broken in order to make her look good.
She is also not a character who revels in ball-busting and the writers didn’t have to weaken the male characters in order to make her look good. Each character–whether Rick or her brother Jonathan–had their own skillset and she recognized this and didn’t strut in to show them that all along she was better at everything. She was never afraid to admit she needed help or ask for it.
Why this movie wouldn’t be made today
I honestly don’t know if this wonderful, well-written, well-acted, fun, interesting, and romantic movie could have been filmed today. (Really, guys, we don’t know anyone’s sexual orientation or preferred pronouns.)
While Evie is stuck in the library because she doesn’t have field experience, she is determined to obtain that field experience. She doesn’t blame it on “The Patriarchy”(TM) or whine about it. Not once. Shocker!
[Disclaimer: I am not and have never been a feminist studies person. I am using the term “patriarchy” and “matriarchy” as a layman to mean power held by men and power held by women respectively.]
Enemies to lovers
Without Jonathan, her con-man brother, the opportunity to get field experience would not have existed, but it is her own drive that turns the opportunity into action. Despite Rick lunging at her through the prison bars and kissing her (without her consent, I might add) she is determined to save him, and does. Even though it means putting up with the lecherous prison warden as a partner.
This sets up the enemies-to-lovers between her and Rick. While not a true enemy, that trope still fits. They start out as adversaries.
On the boat, we learn that Rick is going back to Hamunaptra because of her. He swore he’d never go back but she saved his neck. In other words, we’d have had no story without Evie’s decision to save him.
The fight on the boat
When she is attacked, she defeats the Medjai because he’s distracted by Rick (who came to her rescue). She takes advantage by poking the Medjai in the eye with a candlestick, not by taking over the fight or fighting alongside Rick. The writers did not break the world in order to make her into something she couldn’t possibly be (clumsy librarian, remember?)
What oppression does look like
The writers show us what an actual oppressive patriarchy looks like via the village where they stop to buy camels. Rick and Jonathan joke about trading Evie for the camels. But they don’t because English/American culture isn’t Egyptian culture. And it hasn’t become one since the 1920s either. Take it from someone who spent enough time overseas to know the difference.
At Hamunaptra, patriarchal prejudice is shown again, via the egyptologist, Dr. Chamberlain (played by Jonathan Hyde) who was hired by the American rivals (what I’m going to call the B-team). He’s the one who goes, “They are led by a woman. What does a woman know?” Notice that the Americans are not the ones saying it. Or even agreeing with him.
Soft power is still power
Even when the A-team and the B-team are having their little pissing contest in the tomb, it is Evie who intervenes to break it up. She suggests they dig elsewhere because she figures out it’s the wrong place. No one maligns her for making them back off. And if you don’t think that makes Evie powerful, you’re wrong. Not all power comes from intimidation, from Hulk!Smash! or from “I am woman, hear me roar” speeches.
Logic and reason
We get foreshadowing and necessary background information via Evie talking about mummification and interpreting things for Rick and Jonathan. It is clear she is the driving factor, the voice of logic and reason arguing against superstition and greed.
Proud to be a librarian
When they are attacked by the present-day Medjai, Evie is not involved in the melee. She falls and passes out running away from a man on horseback. Again, it is reasonable that she is not able to outrun a horse or engage in close quarters combat all of a sudden. Later, a bit drunk, she confesses her lack of combat skills and her pride in being a librarian. This time she is the one who asks for a kiss but unfortunately passes out before she can get it.
Opening the sarcophagus
She is the one that figures out the key and how to use it to open the sarcophagus. When they open it and find the moist mummy inside, no one blames Evie and she doesn’t scold or blame them either. It’s like they are adults and the movie is about finding treasure and defeating evil instead of modern political correctness and social engineering messaging.
Smart jabs
Evie does tells the B-team egyptologist how to open the book. That’s a bit of a jab at the man and he deserves it. She then “borrows” the book while he’s asleep. Smart again. She has the key. She knows what to do.
Her faults
And then we are shown that Evie doesn’t know it all. It was refreshing. Her reading from the book wakes up Imhotep. It also sets her up as a driving force again. One that releases the seven plagues. So she is not all-good, all-knowing, all-feeling, infallible woman. She has a fatal flaw: she trusts in logic and intellect more than she should. One might have expected a woman of that time to be more into mysticism than logic and intellect, but it is not outside the realm of possibility given her upbringing. This makes her believable and sympathetic.
Convenience
She does just happen to push up against the “right” stone to end up in the tunnel with Imhotep and Henderson, the unfortunate man with the glasses. Once there, she asks him for help. She doesn’t attack Imhotep. She is afraid, but she does stand her ground as best she can until Rick and the others do come to her rescue. Again.
Evie wandering into that tunnel is what allows the Medjai to rescue Henderson and keeps Imhotep from finishing him off. It is another driving point of the plot.
Calling the shots
Evie actively thwarts Rick’s attempts to pack and leave. That’s a bit of a plot hole. She was lamenting the loss of her books and clothes when the boat sank. But her argument with Rick reveals how hurt she is by being regarded as merely a contract. So she uses her budding relationship with him to advantage. But he’ll have none of it. He is afraid for her. One might argue that there is a patriarchal aspect to Rick calling the shots. But if you do you must grant everything done at Evie’s direction as matriarchal.
When water turns into blood, who does Rick seek out? Evie of course. Because when he is out of his element, he does defer to her. Does this mean that now we’ve switched to a matriarchal calling of the shots?
It is Evie who takes them to the museum director. The museum director and Ardeth, the Medjai leader, argue with her as an equal. They don’t dismiss her. A little hard to believe perhaps, given the culture of 1920s Egypt, but at least on the museum director’s part, he has worked with her and knows that she is capable. Earned respect on that, and the same can be argued for Ardeth as well. He’s seen what she can do too.
Evil, evil patriarchy
It is Evie who says that they must stop Imhotep from regenerating. The guys agree and then lock her in her room. Yes, they did it for her own good. They knew that she had caught Imhotep’s interest, and not in a good way. If you want, you can blame it on patriarchy, evil, evil, patriarchy that tries to keep you from falling prey to a great ancient evil.
And Imhotep is a threat. He gets into her room despite everything. He is delusional, thinking she is his lost love, Anck Su Namun. Once again, Rick (and a cat) save her. Lucky for her that Rick is not a feminist prince that would have let her rot–or worse in this case.
Saving the guys
It is Evie who figures out where the Book of Life is. They need it to defeat Imhotep. In response, Imhotep ups the game, bringing an army of zombies to her door. They run, but are stopped. Faced with a choice–going with Imhotep to be reincarnated as Anck Su Namun or having her friends killed–she makes the decision to go with Imhotep. It will buy Rick and the others time. And she does expect Rick to rescue her. Again. She tells him so to his face, because she is, first and foremost, a survivor. So this is matriarchal oppression, right? I mean look at all the agency she is denying them. Wouldn’t it be better if they just went down fighting? Who is she to know what’s best for them? Shouldn’t she be getting back at them for locking her in that room?
Feminine Wiles
In order to distract Imhotep (again) and save her friends (again) she kisses him. Evie uses physical attraction to her advantage, right up to kissing a man she’s disgusted by in order to distract him and save her friends. She didn’t do it by kicking him in the balls. That would have been a TSTL (too stupid to live) moment that would have served nothing except to make Rae or Ms. Marvel look good at everyone else’s expense. Instead of using physical prowess, she used intellect and (dare I say it?) feminine wiles. Something only a truly strong woman would do, because it’s a personal sacrifice for her. It involves an intimacy. It’s a parody of a kiss, of attraction, and she lowers herself to do it. She knows it’s what Imhotep wants and she gives it to him to take away his power.
Who’s saving whom again?
Tied down on the altar next to Anck Su Namun’s mummy, Evie struggles, but isn’t threatening to do things that she can’t possibly do. It’s like she’s waiting to be rescued again. I know that’s anathema to movie-makers today, but it is perfectly done because it’s the only thing she can do at this point (without breaking the world by suddenly empowering her somehow). It makes sense that she was overpowered and had no choice.
Just before she is to be killed, Jonathan and Rick show up. Jonathan uses distraction to draw Imhotep away and this allows Rick to do his thing–hacking at things. Rick then frees her from the altar. But it is Evie’s intellect that saves everyone. It is her knowledge that allows them how to figure out how to get control of the mummified soldiers and direct them to destroy Imhotep and Anck Su Namun.
Woman vs woman
Evie directly engages physically only with Anck Su Namun’s mummy, i.e a woman of equal size (here the mummies are just as strong as if they were living apparently). This keeps with nature and human biology. Unlike female “heroes” who practice waif-fu, taking on men much bigger and stronger than they are, ignoring the physics of mass altogether as if estrogen were some magical substance.
Victory
The kiss at the end is preceded by Rick saying that he’s not going home empty handed–he has the greatest treasure, Evie herself. What a male chauvinist pig, right? How dare he? (yes that was sarcasm, Karen).
Conclusion
Again and again, Evie solves (and causes) problems via her intellect, not her fists. Evie is a product of her world and she does whatever she can not just within those limits, but the limits of biology. She is not genetically engineering, or a magical creation, or a magician who can call up powers. She is human.
The sequels weren’t as good precisely because they took her character and broke her in order to make her more of a man-with-boobs who prefers using physical violence to solve her problems and suddenly “remembers” being trained to fight against Pharaoh’s mistress. Lame, lame, lame. And this is why we don’t like the sequel, The Mummy Returns* and will pretend that it doesn’t exist.
*As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Conquest (Book 1)
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Ascension (Book 2)
Cover for Ravages of Honor Lineage
Cover for Dominion: A Ravages of Honor Novella
Cover for Featherlight: A Ravages of Honor Novella
If you haven’t watched Netflix’s Age of Samurai: Battle for Japan, you should. I highly recommend it. It is not just visually stunning, but this docudrama has all the action and intensity of a well-written fictional epic. It is about as far as you can get from boring history lessons and well worth your time.
The series
One of the narrators is Stephen Turnbull*, is an “old friend” of mine. It was his book, Samurai: The Story of Japan’s Greatest Warriors, that I picked up when waiting for my kids to finish up at the library. It is one of the three books (the second one being on genetic engineering and the third being on nanotechnology) responsible for the Ravages of Honor series.
Not only are the narrators experts in their fields, this dramatized account of history emphasizes the relationships between the people making history, rather than dry, pedantic statistics related to dates, troop movements, and other non-sense that is likely to be forgotten the moment it’s not needed for a test.
Great acting, wonderful stories, amazing characters, my only complaint is that it is only six episodes of forty-five minutes each when it could be much longer.
Noteworthy
So much of what I was seeing in this docudrama resonated with me, that I started taking notes, mostly ones that might be of use for further stories in my Ravages of Honor universe.
In case you’re new, my space opera series features genetically engineering warriors modeled — you guessed it — on the samurai. But it doesn’t just stop at the swords and honor codes. My writing also relies rather heavily on my favorite romantic trope–enemies-to-lovers.
When genres blur
One of the more interesting things about the enemies-to-lovers trope is that Jane Austen* is credited with creating it, via her most famous work, Pride and Prejudice*.
As someone who didn’t grow up in the entitled First World where marrying for love, infatuation, or just hooking up was a valid thing, I’ve always found this interesting. History is full of stories where men and women married not just strangers, or people they didn’t love, but people who were their actual enemies.
This is why I used the enemies-to-lovers trope in Ravages of Honor, not because I was going for some Regency in space.
I used it because it’s hardwired into the samurai history I used as background for the donai. The marriages and concubinal arragements of this period (and others throughout history) precedes the Regency period and its ballrooms by centuries.
Austen may have popularized enemies-to-lovers, but she didn’t invent it, and it saddens me to see what has been tradition throughout most of human history relegated to second place because we have no knowledge (or appreciation) of why these things happened. It means all the struggles and sacrifices of the people (usually women, but men as well) caught between duty, honor, and passion has been forgotten.
The Ravages of Honor series, has far more in common with feudal Japan than it does with the ballrooms of Regency England. So, while the sparks, tension, and forbidden fruit of the enemies-to-lovers trope runs strong not just in Conquest but in the rest of the series, it is based on the political intrigues of a feudal culture, not ballroom dances and the matchmaking aspirations of mothers.
So, if you like Byronic heroes (Mr. Darcy was one), actual strong women (like Elizabeth Bennett), but want to trade the gossip and manipulations of the Regency era for political alliances where millions of lives are at stake, where freedom and survival on a planetary scale are hang in the balance, where the ravages of honor are borne by grace and strength, then I hope you’ll give my take on the enemies-to-lovers trope a try.
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Conquest (Book 1)
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Ascension (Book 2)
Cover for Ravages of Honor Lineage
Cover for Dominion: A Ravages of Honor Novella
Cover for Featherlight: A Ravages of Honor Novella
The John Carter (2012) * movie with Taylor Kitsch somehow almost missed me. Retrospectively we know that Disney killed the box office success of this movie and the reasons for that have been documented elsewhere and will not be rehashed here. (If you’re curious, here’s a video I found very informative.)
Given my history with Edgar Rice Burroughs‘* works, I can’t help but wonder if this excellent film (yes, I said it) would have been something I would have bothered with when it was released. They say that you never get a second chance to make a first impression, but I did nevertheless give this character a second chance.
Some background:
First, so you understand where I am coming from, I was never a 13-year-old boy or a young man for that matter. I don’t think I was ever the intended audience for this and not just because ERB published this in 1917 and the writing is so dated that the story is painful to read. And I know that it inspired a lot of people. That does not change that it is dated, and I’m not talking about the prose.
But I loved the movie and a friend’s post on Facebook got me thinking about why the movie spoke to me in a way that ERB’s writing never could. I will admit that while Taylor Kitsch is easy on the eyes I do in fact consistently reject eye-candy-based movies if they are poorly done. And while the production design and special effects were excellent, again, plenty of other movies with the same window dressing fail to make my list.
“Oh, Gary-Stu, you saved me!”
So, I subjected myself, once more to ERB’s writing, confirming, once again, that it was his writing that did not appeal. Now, when we speak of writing, we are talking about two things. One is prose. The other is everything but the prose, i.e. the characterization, pacing, description, and so on. (And please don’t rail at me about giving the book another chance; I’m a writer with limited time and since what I’m reading can have a detrimental effect on my own writing, that is not a bullet I’m willing to take for you).
It is the characters in the book that are lacking. This review of ERB’s version is right on:
Amazon review
ERB’s John Carter is a Gary-Stu, an infallible character, a piece of animated cardboard lacking in depth. And I also realize that for some people, that is the appeal. Why else would Hollywood and Disney be tripping all over themselves for the last decade or more to bring us the female version of Gary-Stu, the Mary-Sue character? (If you’re one of those, you may want to stop reading here because I’m about to piss you off.)
Here is the one time that Disney took something and made it better. And then they squandered it.
Why the movie is so much better:
So, what made it better? What did Disney do right? Well, for one they made the Powell character an adversary (in the book he was Carter’s mining partner). By doing so, the movie reset the tone to one of high stakes and character complexity. As I said, I couldn’t make myself re-read all of ERB’s story, but I did re-read this part and it struck me as an excellent move in revamping the characters.
The other thing they did was make John Carter a real person, not someone who struts around thinking about how (or showing off how) utterly perfect he is. And I admit a prejudice against such characters, whether ERB’s or not.
To wit… One of the things that absolutely makes me put a book down is the Retief character (Laumer’s BOLO series.) Laumer’s character is fresher in mind than John Carter (I had to re-read him more recently) but I remember thinking of John Carter when I read Laumer and just groaning when Retief takes out an alien using some clever method that only he knew but didn’t reveal until it was time to congratulate himself for being oh-so-clever.
Let me be a bit more explicit here with an example:
Gary-Stu, our intrepid hero finds himself at the bottom of a pit. The author actually has Gary-Stu going “Oh no! However will I get out?” Gary-Stu may or may not have more thoughts about how incredibly high the walls are, or how dangerous it is for him to remain here. Then the author leaves us hanging.
So off we go, waiting a whole week for the next installment, or the next chapter, or like today, it’s just a matter of turning the page. And when we do, Gary-Stu flexes his muscles and just leaps out of that pit like he was planning on doing all along, because he knew he could do it (he is Gary-Stu after all) so him wondering “Oh no! However will I get out?” wasn’t a genuine thought at all, but the author jerking off on the page.
And if you just went, “Ewww….” then you know exactly how I feel every time I read one of these contrived gotchas, and then how I feel when I have to read the vomit-inducing follow-up that includes some self-congratulatory drivel started by some other character. “Oh, Gary-Stu, you’re my hero. Thank you for saving us.” or better yet, “Oh, Gary-Stu, you’re my hero. I’m all yours. Take me. Take me here, take me now.”
It’s always about characters:
By making John Carter a widower who had lost his wife and child, who had lost his soul, whose outlook of life and humanity was grim, Disney took ERB’s Gary-Stu and made him into a relatable, likable character who could be progressed. At the end of the movie he is a different person and it was that arc that made the movie John Carter someone I liked and want more of. The book John Carter would have been just as shallow, no matter the special effects or casting because he would still be a Gary-Stu, ready to go on his next adventure where he remained the same shallow Gary-Stu he was at the start.
I’m not going to talk too much about the rewriting of Dejah Thoris since I couldn’t read far enough into ERB’s text to do a fair comparison. I suspect that movie Dejah is very much unlike book Dejah, a female character written for 13-yo boys reading in 1917. I didn’t find the movie character to be a Mary-Sue. In fact, I liked her very much. She had both strengths and weaknesses, had a great character arc, and she and John working together to win is very refreshing in a world where many franchises take the male title character, gut and castrate him, and then have the female character be the real “hero.”
If you’re willing to suspend disbelief and accept that this is not the Mars we know today and was never meant to be the Mars of today, but a fantasy (rather than sci-fi) Mars, this movie is well worth your time. It has action, adventure, and romance, albeit a Disney-level romance. I loved the Tars Tarkas character (“Your spirit annoys me”), the Sola and Kantos Kan characters–all of it. The only thing I did not love about this movie is the fact that they didn’t make a sequel and that there is no Woola plushie.
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Conquest (Book 1)
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Ascension (Book 2)
Cover for Ravages of Honor Lineage
Cover for Dominion: A Ravages of Honor Novella
Cover for Featherlight: A Ravages of Honor Novella
As a huge fan of Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander*, I (like everyone else) have been looking forward to the end of Droughtlander with the streaming of Season 6.
How big of a fan am I? I often refer to my Ravages of Honor series as an “Outlander in space.” We share a heroine who is pulled through time, the fish-out-of-water trope, as well as the focus on relationships. We are not pure Romance because while there is a deep, driving, and defining love story, the story itself does not end with the couple getting together and going on to their HEA (happily ever after). The story continues past that and their love story (rather than Romance) continues as they get older, have children, and go on other adventures.
Limited expectations:
I know that the pandemic gave us Droughtlander and I knew that we were going to get a shorter season, only eight episodes. But what I did not expect was the cliffhanger ending and the shortened story lines which were just dropped and then summarized with a few trite lines of dialogue.
With no announcement of when season 7 will come, I felt more than a little cheated by the ending, especially since the storylines were (mostly) well done. There was tension and emotional investment, something that Gabaldon and the show-runners do very well, and they certainly kept me guessing.
It’s like deja vu all over again:
I did have deja vu several times, to the point where I went to check the release dates on the off-chance that I was watching the wrong season. At first I thought it might be the disparity between the books and the show. But that wasn’t as much of an issue as what they did: cut off two rather important storylines and then leave us hanging.
The good things:
There was a cute little subplot involving the Beardsley twins, and an even more interesting one between Claire and Tom Christie, an old compatriot of Jamie’s. I found Claire and Christie’s developing and reluctant friendship to be very interesting and its platonic nature is much needed as we rarely see such things develop between male and female characters without at least some hint of sexual tension.
I don’t know how realistic the polyamorous subplot between the Beardsley twins and Lizzie would be given the time period and attitudes, but it was well done and I know that Gabaldon often throws out historical accuracy for the sake of story, a trait that I do admire. It however, felt short or at least not as well-developed as it could be. So maybe the shortened season is to blame for this as well.
They did a great job with the Malva character. There was something about the look on her face from the moment we met her that said, this person isn’t all that she seems, but only barely. She kept setting off the hairs on the back of my neck and I was wondering, once again, where I had seen her. Well, her name does start with “Mal” and I kept telling myself, “Nope, it can’t be that. Nope, nope, nope.” But it was. Throughout the scenes of her father punishing her, you get this sense that she’s not quite the victim she is being portrayed as. With how the storylines were shortened and abandoned, it’s hard to tell if this was intentional or merely coincidental.
Conclusion:
Another well-done aspect is the unwavering faith that Claire and Jaime have in each other. A lot of drama over his alleged infidelity would have ruined their characters and I was really glad to see that the show didn’t go there, no matter how tempting it might have been.
And if this post has that ending abruptly feel to it, well, yes. Because I honestly have nowhere else to take it. I’m thinking they did the best they could with what they had.
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Conquest (Book 1)
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Ascension (Book 2)
Cover for Ravages of Honor Lineage
Cover for Dominion: A Ravages of Honor Novella
Cover for Featherlight: A Ravages of Honor Novella
I can see why Leigh Bardugo’s Shadow and Bone* is such a hit. It certainly struck a chord with me and I’m not even the target audience. I’m not a fan of fantasy. And normally I don’t go out and read anything that has been turned into a series because usually it’s not worth my time and I’ve been disappointed more often than I care remember.
Some comments about Shadow and Bone (they were dismissive of its YA roots and ‘simpliciy’ and some reviews even knocked it for using tropes as if tropes should be avoided in fiction) did however prompt me to at least look at it and once I did I was hooked.
The number one reason I can’t get into a story or stay in it long enough to finish it has to do with narrative distance–either the story is written at arm’s length (omniscient, third distant, or present tense) or the writer can’t make up his/her mind who’s head and heart they are in and just decides, screw it, I’m going to head-hop and violate viewpoint whenever I please because I don’t care or don’t know any better. Frank Herbert’s Dune* is a good example of something I just can’t read anymore and the head-hopping is why. The writing is not just clunky but the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard.
Fortunately for me, Bardugo’s writing is the polar opposite. It is well-written, well-plotted, and well-crafted. Yes, the plot is simple (even, dare I say, simplistic) but it has to be. It has to be because it’s a single viewpoint novel. And because Bardugo only shows us Alina’s head and heart, the book is different from the series which (I suspect since I haven’t read the other books) takes material from the other books and weaves in multiple storylines.
So, if you’re expecting a cheap novelization of the series, where some hack has been hired to turn the outside-in script into a thinly veiled outside-in narrative, you’ll be disappointed. Bardugo’s novel has depth and resonance. Bardugo’s novel is about characters. Bardugo’s novel is about relationships and emotions. And yes, some of that definitely comes through in the series, but there are also a few important differences.
One of the ways I knew that I was in for a treat was in the way Bardugo handled the opening. We don’t start in Alina’s head and heart (she is not yet the viewpoint character) but with a properly written (do you have any idea how exceedingly rare that is?) prologue that is not just time a time-skip, but a hook written from a viewpoint not used again, i.e. the author-narrator’s via third-distant viewpoint.
The rest of the novel (the main narrative) is from Alina. Now, I do have to pause here and explain something. Most well-written first-person is first-person retrospective narration. The reason to use first person is because we want the character narrating the past from the future. Gabaldon’s Outlander is an example of properly done first person because it is retrospective. Unfortunately, I see more and more non-retrospective narration because writers are constantly being told that if you’re using I/me you’re writing in first. Not true. If the story is unraveling in real story time, it’s not retrospective and it’s actually third-person. And if you’re using the pronouns I/me you’re actually writing third-person with first-person pronouns. Which is fine as long as you don’t screw it up, and Bardugo does not.
Despite the lack of a retrospective narrator, Alina’s narrative unveils the story in an engaging way that had me reading to the end. She put me in Alina’s head and heart and kept me there. I don’t usually read YA because it’s often too shallow, too poorly-written, too focused on teen angstiness and TSTL (too stupid to live) moments and motivations that I just can’t buy into. That was not the case here.
The reveal for why Alina didn’t remember the grisha testing was also well done. I admit, I was wondering how Bardugo was going to handle that (first-person retrospective would have been excellent for handling this) and she didn’t disappoint. It wasn’t a gotcha, a stupid writer trick I abhor.
The book is also different in how it handles the relationship with the Darkling. One Amazon reviewer complained that it was a romance written for 12-yo. Actually, it’s not a romance at all, for any age. As in there is no romance. There is no chemistry. Not between her and the Darkling anyway. The deeper romance is between her and Mal, but I can see how some people would miss that because (a) we don’t get his viewpoint and (b) the kind of devotion that Alina and Mal feel towards each other given their experiences as orphans is not fleshed out until the end where it’s done via dialogue. A multiple viewpoint novel written in third-close could have done this earlier and better and created additional tension, depth, and characterization.
The series actually gives us more chemisty between Alina and the Darkling than there is the book. Some people have called it an enemies-to-lovers romance, but it’s not. If it could be called anything at all, it’s a May-September romance, for certain values of romance (on the weak side of it). Again, because we don’t get the Darkling’s viewpoint, we can’t know what he feels towards her. He tells us somewhat, but we can’t know what he means and what he does not without being in his head and heart. Knowing these things requires multiple viewpoints done in third-close, something that tends not to lend itself to moviezation (yes, I just made that word up; deal with it).
The other thing I really liked about this story was that the climax depended on inner strength and sacrifice (not Hulk! Smash!). Another criticism of this story has been that it’s boring. Well, if you’re looking for a mindless, Hulk! Smash! action extravaganza, this is not it. Truly. Who’d be expecting that?
Like all well-written stories with depth, the story is NOT about the events (the plot) but about the characters and their relationships. As such the climaxes tend to be at least somewhat internal. The Netflix series did an excellent job in balancing this out and presenting it on screen with a bit more oomph than the book. So for the action junkies in the audience, not all struggle is “action” and not all victories involve knocking your opponent out. Some involve self-sacrifice.
Also well done was the hero/villain duality between Alina and the Darkling. He is the other side of the coin. They are both motivated by the same thing — to make a better world. They just have different visions of it and how to get there. This is quite well done, especially for YA where that type of depth is often missing.
Another layer of depth that I haven’t seen touted, or even acknowledged, is the fact that Alina needed the very thing that enslaved her. Think about it. Why is that not the very thing that is being used to sell this? Well, I think it would be lost on most people, because the story is again, about self-sacrifice and about making hard choices and living with them. Not exactly the kind of thing that makes for great teasers.
The only thing I did not like is the epilogue. It was written in present tense and I just skipped it.
I am going to rewatch the series now and go on to read the second book. I highly recommend Shadow and Bone not only for anyone who wants to read a well-written story, but for any writer who is looking for good examples of how to do it well.
Bardugo has now made in on my must-read list along with Gabaldon*, Pataki*, and Quinn. *
(If you want to learn more about viewpoint and why it’s not about pronouns, click here.)
*As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Conquest (Book 1)
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Ascension (Book 2)
Cover for Ravages of Honor Lineage
Cover for Dominion: A Ravages of Honor Novella
Cover for Featherlight: A Ravages of Honor Novella
If you’ve been dying to get back into watching movies in a theatre, you might want to skip The Lost City* a romantic comedy starring Sandra Bullock (as Loretta Sage) and Channing Tatum (as Alan).
I had such high hopes for this. It’s Romance, right? It has a great premise–romance novelist and her cover model go on adventures that mimic what she writers. Great names, right? And then, something, I’m not sure quite what, happened.
Tired of the remakes, the reboots, the “let’s see how much more blood we can squeeze out of this turnip” output of today’s Hollywood? I think you’ll find Passengers* a refreshing change.
If like me, you didn’t rush out to see it in the theatre, it might’ve been because of blurbs like this one from IMDB: “A spacecraft traveling to a distant colony planet and transporting thousands of people has a malfunction in its sleep chambers. As a result, two passengers are awakened 90 years early.”
Sounds like a snore, doesn’t it?
It is rated PG-13, just under two hours long, and tagged as adventure, drama, and romance. What it is, however, is a story about love, redemption, and forgiveness. It’s about making the best of life, even when things don’t go as planned. It’s about the pioneering spirit, about a positive future, about what a man and a woman can achieve together.
“But wait, you said this is hard sci-fi.”
Yes, I did. And I stand by it. It’s science fiction because of the setting: a spaceship traveling between the stars. It’s hard sci-fi because it’s an extrapolation of current knowledge (it’s closer to 2001: A Space Odyssey), than to the space-fantasy cum turnip known as Star Wars.
But what this movie actually is, is a great example of using science/setting as a trope and a literary device for delivering a character-focused story. The science is not the point of the story, but there is enough verisimilitude that it has a real feel to it (this comes from someone who can get really picky about the scientific details).
I watched Aquaman last night. I’ve got to say, I haven’t been this hyped up about a DC movie in… well, ever. Which is pretty amusing considering Aquaman has been sort of a joke for a long, long time.
The movie manages to live up to that hype. It’s fun, it’s got good action, an understandable plot, and motivations for the characters that actually make sense. They do a great job showing Aquaman’s character, in little things he does, not just the big dumb hero stuff of saving the world. Some of it is sort of check the box, (save the nuns, check, save the trapped guy, check), but a lot of that stuff is cliche for a reason: it shows that he actually cares enough about people to risk himself to save people caught in the middle of his battles.
