This is the film our Blue team created during our publishing retreat at The Burn.
This is the film our Blue team created during our publishing retreat at The Burn.
After a pleasant evening of Ghibli movies (“Spirited Away” ) in the company of the ghost of violet tea (we couldn’t find the tea strainer) and some essential Waitrose Tiramisu complimented by Cheese and Onion crisps – Catriona and I have cornered an important term.
It belongs to a particular form of entertainment: one which a person hates with all their soul but continues – despite the inner cringe, perpetual face-palm and better judgement – to read/watch/listen. It is a masochistic sort of
guilty angry pleasure.
Thus GHAP was born.
Diabolik Lovers has just released its second season this Autumn.
Genre: Reverse Harem (1F + X number of M), Shoujo (aimed at teenage girls), Vampire.
Episode length: 12 min.
Rating: Car Crash Watching (CCW)
’tis been a horrendous sight for my tired eyes if I should speak plainly
If you thought Twilight was the bane and poison of decades of feminist achievement – then I recommend you see Diabolik Lovers and you will suddenly find yourself sympathising with Edward and envying Bella’s strength and independence. Although S. Meyer seems to be under the impression that we have all simply misunderstood her character and all that was needed was the magic touch of gender bending. I won’t even speculate on whether the creative directors of Diabolik Lovers ever entertained a critical approach.
Anime may be niche in anglophone society, you may in fact think it’s so niche that there is no point in bothering with it – but it is a huge part of Japanese culture and a huge influence on its neighbours. It spreads widely – like wildfire through Australian plains – thanks to video streaming (piracy) and the ease of translating subtitles (shows are usually translated into several languages ex. English, Spanish, Chinese). The content then becomes available to 100,000’s of viewers, more than it was ever intended for. The original script often becomes warped as meaning changes with each translation.
And thus quietly but steadily all sorts of frisky and misogynistic stuff are creeping into impressionable young minds under the guise of ‘childish’ entertainment. Sure, I may not have been as critical of things in my teeny-tweens as I am today; I did, after all, read Twilight (with all its sequels) – but I have always turned down those series where lead female characters were exploited or compromised. If it didn’t feel right: hyper sexualised, victimised, victim-blaming etc I dropped it like a hot potato, even then I found it hard to palate. I worry for the youngsters who watch this and who may be less critically astute. I’m a hardy warrior. There are lots of things in mainstream serialised anime that one must blindside in order to even begin to enjoy it. But in my books there are no excuses for such trashy, sexist, eye-candy voyerism when there isn’t even an inkling of plot to support it.
Oh dear, did I hear a sigh? But we haven’t even begun! The history of the vampire genre is a long and winding path that currently finds itself split between two camps: a) horror critters (alongside zombies e.g 30 Days of Night) and b) predominantly romantic (adult) fan fiction which features blood suckers with endless sex appeal pooping sparkles. Screen writers also like to use the vampire trope to spice things up with some classic frankenstein conflict pertaining to the nature of the human soul. They too often fall into the trap of presenting the offender as a slave to their nature – a victim who can’t help himself.
If you are tired of such nonsense and want to see some unapologetic monsters who are not made out to be good or likeable I suggest you watch “Let the Right one In” – it is wonderful. Not the American remake. It will always be one of the first movies I recommend whenever anyone mentions ‘vampires’.
HULK ANGRY because:
When I was done with the 4th episode of the second season I wanted nothing more than to wipe my eyes clean and my mind blank of this gunk. I was disturbed and still feel uncomfortable thinking about it.
Having finished the bullet points above I do not feel the need to reiterate why exactly this show left me raving mad. The trend for submissive and cornered heroines in anime is nothing new, but gosh does that room need a breath of fresh air.
“Redeeming qualities” as follows:
1) A half-decent soundtrack.
2) Interesting seiyu.
3) Attractive albeit not original character design.
4) All the colours! Reminiscent of last year’s anime AMNESIA – where the complexities of colour outweighed the plot.
LIES-LIES-LIES: the moment Yui enters the manor her life becomes utter MISERY filled with PAIN and ABUSE. These young men are psychotic monsters: anyone with eyes and a bit of common sense can see that, no matter how the creators try to justify them through their childhood trauma.
There’s nothing as frustrating as a film that refuses to live up to its potential. The writing and directorial debut of Andrew Droz Palermo, One & Two is the story of two children with strange powers of teleportation, living an Amish-style existence in an isolated farm with their stern father and sickly mother. Mad Men’s Kiernan Shipka delivers a solid leading performance as Eva, and the film looks and sounds beautiful. Unofrtunately this is another case of style over substance. One & Two spends 90 minutes on the verge of developing into an interesting story, and then shying away from it at the last second.
One & Two could have been a chilling story with subtle supernatural elements and a breakdown of the family unit unfolding alongside the childrens’ discovery of the outside world. Instead it is a directionless yarn that seems to switch its own goal in storytelling as often as the kids teleport. Is the story about Eva’s desire to explore beyond the wall? Is it about some kind of “greater purpose” – the reason why the family are so isolated, presumably connected to their power in some way? I don’t know. I don’t think the film does either.
It’s also frustratingly reminiscent of a lot of other films that portrayed the themes better; an isolated cult-like family (We Are What We Are); a young girl experiencing the real world for the first time (Martha Marcy May Marlene); the old-fashioned community in a modern world (The Village). The latter example is a deeply flawed film, but one that at least attempted to do something interesting with its premise. The film I was reminded of most strongly in terms of theme and substance was 2004 French fairy-tale Innocence, which also featured secluded children and not a great deal actually happening, whilst implying rich and disturbing story just beyond the edge of the screen. One & Two seems like it is going to do this, but never quite manages it. The supernatural element of the film implies some kind of further magical narrative that the film stubbornly refuses to go near.
Beautiful but empty, One & Two manages to drag despite weighing so little. Now that’s an achievement.
It has been a strange week. Some days were incredibly fast and filling, other days felt like time could not have possibly moved slower.
Today is one of those slow days.
I look at the clock and it’s almost 8pm, yet I could have sworn I just came back from my morning walk on the hills.
On these days I revert to my hibernation mode, I lock everyone out and am left one on one with myself, my thoughts and the to-do list. This may surprise many who know me personally but there are genuinely days when I don’t want to have a conversation or even physically contact other humans and that’s OK. It’s completely normal and something that I call (thanks to a suggestion from a kind friend) – ” battery low 1% remaining” i.e when your social, physical or emotional reserves are depleted. Take a rest, have a day off, go for a walk if you can handle it, snuggle with a cup of tea – take care of yourself.
I have quite a lot going on these days and it was silly of me to think that vlogging would take up less of my time than blogging, so I would like to let everyone whom I’ve promised or told of my channel to know that things are being put together, it’s just taking a lot more time and resources than I thought it would.
I’ve planned out my introduction video, tested my camera, am generally prepared for my first video book review and have penned down the first essay in my 3-part series titled “Scandalous”. What’s left to do? RECORDING AND EDITING IT ALL. Please bear with me as I plough through my course-work, personal business, work, life and, of course, extra curricular reading.
The vlog is going to happen eventually.
I’m only half-way through but I can already feel the surge of thoughts I’d like to tell overwhelm me, making my mind ‘quit unexpectedly’ like a Chrome window with too many tabs open.
Emerald Fennell’s “Monsters” caught my eye during a scouting mission to Princess Street’s Waterstones. The aim of the mission was to assess current bestsellers, the shop layout and bookshelf politics. I rarely venture into the YA section, if only to grope Garth Nix’s novels, curse the internet and lament how I should have spent more wisely the little free time I had during school-years.
A tentative glance around the YA shelves leaves me barely warm, my inner snob is huffing and puffing and my inner voice-over is wondering why exactly are teenagers (I used to be one too!) attracted to some of these books.*
“Monsters” made me pick it up twice. I am a hardy combination of a book addict (an impulse buyer when I’m having a bad day) and student with a small allowance. A book has got to be real special for me to want to buy it at Waterstones. I circled the general fiction floor a dozen times (half of them in search of my mother whom I found clutching at a ‘I<3 Darcy’ tote and refusing to leave the shop without it) – during those tours I kept coming back to the YA corner.
Although ‘one shouldn’t judge a book by its cover’ – today this saying is more apt for people than books. Books have long become products; and product presentation is key to success. Many an established publisher have published Nobel Prize winners, classics and cultural milestones alongside what most of the reading world has unanimosly labelled a crime against the written word, books, the noble calling of a writer etc. This, unfortunately, is how the capitalist pie rolls. To use a gardening metaphor: crops grow best on natural manure, especially strawberries. In a world where content growth is exponential consumers are fickle and abstinent with their finances. A publisher must do everything possible to promote and establish their product among thousands of others.
This particular book, in my opinion, is like the seashore it depicts on the cover. Its appearance, far from neutral, leaves enough room for both childish nonchalance and adult gra(depra)vity that so many grown-ups refuse to attribute to children. All monsters were once men and children. One simply needs to mention Golding’s “Lord of the Flies” or King’s “Children of the Corn” to get some heads nodding. I believe it’s all part of a new cross-over trend that Penguin started with John Green’s “The Fault in our Stars”.
I am a tactile person and I like to savour books. With my hands: feeling the texture of the cover, the corners (I once encountered (and purchased) a book where the corners were rounded off – pure bookish ecstasy), the thickness and the quality of the paper and the threading of the spine. With my eyes: taking in the cover, the text layout, type, spacing, guttering and the little illustrated sections (or chapter) markers.
I don’t like my food pre-packaged just like I don’t like my books catered to ‘a particular audience’. There is a certain quality I will expect from them all, of course, but none of that flamboyant gimmick that often takes over YA.
Fast-forward this Thursday: I decided to explore the inside of the “Edinburgh Bookshop” – having walked past it almost every single day for at least a month now – and guess what? “Monsters” was waiting for me there! I found a slip inside the book with a note scribbled on with a bic pen: be warned this book is definitely for those young readers 16+ and above (approx. citation).
I guess that’s enough writing about a book I haven’t read yet! It’s time to go purchase a copy and see what it’s really like inside – ’cause in the end that’s what matters most.
* adults are children who’ve grown tall, grey and cautious. 🙂
** I am not about to wander into a polemic rant on gender politics in the sales campaigns of YA fiction and it’s overbearing, guru like manner of asserting the idea that at this particular age all girls want some glitter, feelings, slice-of-life and romance no matter how unpalatable and all boys will prefer adventures, thrillers, inventions and scares – to which I say ‘NAY! However, this is a digression for another time.
Directed by Zhang Yimou Raise the Red Lantern was released in 1991 and, despite censorship and a rough reception at home, was warmly welcomed in the West (Yimou received a Silver Lion for best director at the Venice Film Festival in 1991). The story is inspired by the novel Wives and Concubines (by Su Tong) and depicts Northern China in the 1920s in the thrall of a cultural revolution. Gong Li stars as Songlian – the fourth wife of an elderly landlord; a college student who, due to her fathers death, has been married off by her stepmother to a local lord. It is with tremendous frustration that this woman, who had hopes of using her education to broaden her horizons, now finds herself reduced to the role of an heir-bearing concubine, trapped in a palace at the beck and call of her husband.
Immersed in the world of Raise the Red Lantern one experiences a falling through time to find oneself surrounded by an ancient, labyrinthine palace that acts as both a physical and a mental prison. The tale appears a cruel inversion of the stereotypical western fairytale. The lone young woman who marries a rich lord is set up for descent rather than an elevation of her person and position. Instead of being released, like Cinderella, from the shackles of her mundane life – Songlian is uprooted and bound to a different kind of prison. The mystical world she enters is literally sealed away from change by stone walls. Slowly but surely the heroine’s reason, will and spirit suffocate under the oppressive hierarchy, the ludicrous obedience to backward tradition and the female rivalry that her arrival ignites.
The music of Naoki Tachikawa and Jiping Zhao is poignant and haunting in its shrill echo, permeating, like rain, the silent edifice of the palace. Visually this film is a case of ‘each frame a painting’. The scenography of Lun Yang and Fei Zhao is breathtaking. The camera work relishes in the spacious, monumental grandeur of the palace’s architecture – which, in turn, lends itself easily to bold compositions and striking contrasts. Each long take is elaborate and relies heavily on the monolithic and at the same time ornate geometric structure of the palace with its solid grey walls, intricate window frames and a network of tiled, labyrinthine rooftops. Over time the openness and vastness of the landscape proves deceptive and the perpetual backdrop of grey stone slowly builds up a sense of claustrophobia. The ambience of the film is built and relies on contrasts, both visually and narratively – from the boisterous silk gowns, the pulsating red lanterns, to the alienating white snow and the placating blue of nightfall. Here visual language is engulfed by colour, especially red that saturates drama and ambiguity. Colour fuses with light, filling the screen space and practically pouring out of it. With this overflow Yimou tests their assigned symbolic meaning and emotional expressiveness in a scenery deprived of nature, where seasons are hardly distinguishable and the turn of the year is marked by virgin white snow.
Yimou’s film provides a platform for a western viewer with little to no in-depth knowledge of China to experience (at a safe distance) the atavistic microcosm of Chinese feudal tradition, gender politics and custom in the light of a social revolution. The director concentrates this social and historical contrast in the character of Soglian and presents us with both a rich, dramatic story and a visually compelling cinematic tapestry – allowing us to savor and reflect on the utter otherness of this universe without the fetish feel common to the treatment of asian culture and ‘the orient’ by western cinematography.
This tribute composition has some wonderful shots in it:
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