I really liked Resurrection.
The reason in particular is something I have been longing for more of in primetime television for a while now:
genuine standalone visual establishment as storytelling.
When a shot does more than one thing, it’s special.
Most shows treat it simply - they’ll give us the basics in their first episodes, but will mostly just give us Continuity Nods later on. And this is good - both of these things essentially mean writers are aware of their story deeply.
But when a shot in Episode One both gives us vital information about the situation the characters are in and their emotional states - not one or the other - it’s one of the best shots in the episode.
Mild spoiler ahoy-
The worst part of Camp NaNoWriMo is that whenever I make a new novel on their site I swear to god my synopsis looks like shite-
I think I should catch up on all of Welcome to Night Vale this week most definitely, because there are conversations going on in my little slice of the fandom that I don’t have much context for because I haven’t finished ‘The Auction’ and they appear like the kind of thing that should be handily addressed…
- I’m sure Jared Leto is a marvelous actor. Personally, I am neither here nor there on his prowess in that regard. But politically, fuck that noise.
- And then there was that moment when Matthew McConaughey thanked himself (or rather his perpetually escaping future self) while receiving his Best Actor statue…
So I’m watching Joan of Arcadia, and Glynis looks to Joan and says that she loves her boyfriend, but that “sometimes I’m afraid he only loves me for my mind”. Glynis is terrified that anything even remotely fascinating will take his attention away from her as a body, as a romantic (and sexual) being.
I imagine that’s supposed to be funny. But it isn’t - after all, in this scene Joan herself is in makeup, and tries to get her boyfriend Adam to notice how stunning she feels, but it goes right over his head. I imagine that was played for laughs, too.
Reallyreallyreally it isn’t.
"All cast, can you please make your way downstairs to the rehearsal hall for circle? Thank you-"
This is the stage manager on Friday night at 7:30, a half hour before the 3Canal show is about to start. I’m in the preshow dressing room with Idrees, a close friend and fellow poet, talking about how he’s gotten here, at Queen’s Hall: he’s been here since 5p.m., because Carnival weekend travel is dog-eat-dog and he’s coming all the way from the East, as I am, and when he realized that no one was here yet, he decided to walk to Hi-Lo Food Stores, get a sandwich and a bottle of juice, and come back.
We dilly-dally a bit - Idrees is still eating - before he turns and says, “Yuh goin’ downstairs o’ wha’?”
I nod and we head to the rehearsal hall.
Molly Quinn is on the next episode of Welcome to Night Vale.
Molly Quinn, guys.
I cannot contain my excitement.
Do not be fooled by the fact that I am properly punctuating my sentences.
The dark green glowing tendrils that make up my brain won’t stop poking out of my head and waving with glee.
I am positively dancing with joy - with all six feet, in fact.
I cannot contain my excitement.
(Also, I know a handful of the hardcore podcast geeks around here probably know her from Thrilling Adventure Hour, which I have yet to get into. It will happen, though. My excitement, though, comes from being a member of the Castle fandom, because can’t you just imagine it? Rick and Alexis going on a father-daughter trip to Night Vale, and coming back to Beckett with all their ridiculous stories that she absolutely won’t believe?)
"Alan chose not to tell Yousef that he had been generally unskilled in matters of love, and was now celibate and alone. That he had not touched a woman in any meaningful way for years now, too many years. He chose to allow Yousef to believe that he was now and always a successful man reveling in the sex-drenched cities of America. A triumphant man with a powerful appetite and unlimited options."
I’ve finally finished Eggers’ A Hologram For The King, and peculiarly enough (SPOILER) I feel about the same way about the book as Abdullah felt about Alan’s presentation:
I liked it, I thought it was very, very nice, but I wasn’t sold.
Eggers’ prose is straightforward in ways I require restraint to accomplish, Alan’s character is for the most part believably flawed, and there are incredibly symbolic points in the novel that you can’t possibly miss the value of - the book attempts to be, and comes almost sensually close to, the modern Western financial crisis’ Death of A Salesman - but even then I felt unmoved. I was particularly put off by the fact that most of the novel feels as if it’s spent not addressing the conflict for which Alan is present, but addressing one or another of his myriad deep-seated mental weaknesses that we don’t realize Alan has until the moment he’s chosen to face it. For several chapters well, in fact, we almost kind of forget that financial trouble is why he’s here.
Perhaps I’m being tremendously harsh, of course, but the novel sparks brilliantly without ever giving a true flourish. Alan Clay wasn’t the only thing about the novel that had lost its powers of persuasion along the way.
I don’t know what you do when a spirit like that takes up the space and you can’t tell the person that invited it that they should keep that spirit with them.
Good job, man.
Just had a really peculiar novel idea…
a novel about an alien race attempting to be welcomed to Earth. They possess incredible technology, have vastly better-developed social practices, their history has been by and large peaceful and long - in short, they have a lot to offer, both to solve our global problems and to make greedy men a mint.
But, on their planet, they are barely corporeal, and for them to stay here they'll have to acclimate to our atmosphere (as well as learn our language and customs and such things). And their entire process of doing these things, for what it's worth, involves luminescently inseminating the females of that planet's most socially developed lifeforms and gestating in their wombs for seven months.
Sometimes they only wait for women to willingly become hosts. Sometimes, unfortunately, they inseminate some women regardless. And even more unfortunately, sometimes we just give our women up for the process regardless of their wishes.
I kinda wanna write it now… but too many things going on…
Huzzah! I think I’m just about ready to start my Storium game!
aetheraria, thelyonnessheart, international-nerd, sakurascourage: If you folks are still interested, send me a message in my ask box with your email address and I’ll invite you all and you can set up your characters and stuff. arrivalattempts, you too - I want to be sure I send it to the email address you want to use to set up, since you have (at last count) eleventygrazillion work emails.
Hopefully we can set everything up by next week and try to start playing! :D
All this talk of Heroes Reborn reminds me painfully of the fact that Tim Kring is a fairy:
if you stop believing in him, his creative powers start to wane.
*curls up in a corner of bedroom*
I do believe in fairies, I do, I do…