Another letter to a filmmaker who is screwing stuff up

Dear Zack Snyder,

I really believe that you are a fanboy. You are camped out at 9:15 on Wednesday mornings outside your local shop to pick up the week's new issues. You bag and board anything and everything in case it might be of value some day. You know as much about obscure letterers and colorists from the '60's as baseball fanatics know about the Baltimore Orioles leftfieldsmen. I'm not doubting your geek pedigree. I know you too fucking well.

You're the sniveling little shit who disparagingly asks me upon my arrival at said comic book store if I'm "looking for something in particular - a gift for a boyfriend, maybe?" You're the one who points me firmly in the direction of the Buffy comics when I say I want horror pulp (not that there is anything wrong with the Buffy comics, but they're not exactly Hack 'n' Slash, are they?) You follow me not-terribly-covertly around convention floors making comments about the fit of my Star Trek t-shirt. You are the idiot who insists on trying to rolling to seduce my very powerful, not-at-all sexy mage in a one-off D&D adventure.

Here's the thing, Snyder. I don't much care for your movie-making. I think in your eagerness to make movies that are frame for frame reenactments of the comics they come from, you lose any desire to imbue your films with honesty or weight. It's frustrating when you do that to source material like Frank Miller's 300 and downright detrimental when it's something like Alan Moore's Watchmen. I don't know what graphic novel you were reading, but the Watchmen movie you made was NOT the Watchmen comic I read. The book was filled with fully-fleshed, complex characters with realistic motivations and emotional lives. Your movie? Not so much.

And now you bring us Sucker Punch. On the surface, there is nothing about this film that I shouldn't like. It is filled with dragons and mechas and sword-wielding lovelies and Jon Hamm. But why, for the love of Firefly, must you make the female characters look like they fell face-first into a vat of Porn Spackle(tm)? And why must the entire story be predicated on the assault - implied SEXUAL assault - of a teenager? And why do you take incredibly talented actors like Carla Gugino and Jena Malone and force them to emote with their fake eyelashes? You first remove all the power and agency from Queen Gorgo and Silk Spectres I and II, forcing them into roles where the ONLY art they wield is sexual - the sword-wielding and high kicks are merely frames for their ridiculous costumes. Now you are intent on selling us a whole two hours of this disenfranchising nonsense.

NEWSFLASH: We women live in a world that is fucking FULL of disenfranchising nonsense. We don't need it spoonfed to us in the guise of empowerment. Neither do our daughters, and just as importantly, neither do our sons. I want my budding geek son to not be the guy who chases girls out of the comic book shop, either directly with his nasty attitude or indirectly by insulting their intelligence and sensibilities with his complete ignorance of what makes a tough woman tough.

Honestly, Snyder. Your take on female power makes me feel bite-ier than the JJ Abrams Star Trek reboot. That is saying something.

Yours,
stella

P.S. In case you have forgotten what sexy AND capable looks like:

Some of you won't get this.

Here is a little more evidence that Wil Wheaton and I should totally be best friends.

I have watched this three times and I am still helpless with laughter.

NO.

Just no.

I warned you, Abrams. There is going to be hell to pay.



If you can't figure out what's wrong with this, we're not friends anymore. Don't expect a handmade Christmas present.

Science Rules! as Bill Nye would say

I attended the Sitka WhaleFest banquet a few nights ago at the behest of a friend. Normally, it is not something I would go to because 1) I have no ties to the world of marine biology other than the tenuous connection of three semesters studying it and 2) it's kind of an expensive fund raiser, and I rarely have that kind of cash laying around this time of year, having spent it on the makings for Christmas presents. However, I didn't spring for the ticket, and it was a personal invitation, so what the hell. I threw on a nice skirt and a sweater, psyched myself up for the hour-long presentation on high-tech methods of tracking marine mammals, and headed out. Before I left, I fixed a polite, I-really-am-paying-attention-to-your-insufferably-dry-Powerpoint expression on my face along with my lipstick.

The big surprise, other than the icy cold grilled scallop in my salad, was that the presentation was anything but dry. It helps that it wasn't about gadgetry. The speaker, Russ Andrews, is a biologist associated with the Alaska Sealife Center, and rather than spending an hour talking about how he invents the technologies that allow us insight into the daily lives of whales and sea lions (wiretapping for the North Pacific!), he talked about Steller, which is a subject that interests me greatly. I am a sucker for stories about how natural historians in the 19th century faced immense tribulation in order to learn something about our place on this planet. Steller has the distinction of having every animal named for him ecologically threatened in some way. Scientists call it Steller's Curse. In at least two instances, the animals have been hunted into extinction - those would be Steller's sea cow and Steller's cormorant. Bummer. Anyhow, Steller was one of those guys that accomplished more in a single year than most people manage in a whole lifetime, and modern biology owes him a huge debt.

The best thing, though,was when he showed the critter-cam stuff. Basically, they glue a camera on the heads of various kinds of pinnipeds (seals and sea-lions) to get an idea of what kind of prey they're chasing and how much of it they eat. Do you know how extraordinary it is to watch realtime video footage of a northern fur seal swallowing a luminescent squid? It trumped every single thing I've seen since Obama's acceptance speech.

I now want to read up on Steller and his work. He might join Alfred Russell Wallace as one of my all-time favorite science-y guys. It will go on the bottom of the ever-growing pile of printed matter next to my bed.

Here's some footage of a Sitka legend, Old Earl. It's no critter-cam, and he doesn't do anything spectacular in this clip, but rest assured, he's a pissy dude who's been known to grab coolers full of fish off the cleaning floats.

Pop culture update!

If you've been wondering why I haven't been shooting off at the mouth about the things that take up my time and headspace, it's because my list of awesome things I'm consuming has moved over to ing & ed. As a matter of fact, there'll be new stuff up over there pretty darned soon. But I had to, had to, had to talk about two things:

1) If you haven't seen Iron Man yet, we're not friends anymore until you do. I hate movies that are poorly made with lots of special effects to disguise that fact. I love movies that are laden with effects, to good... effect. You know. Where the explosions and the glowy things and the badassery support an actual plot, with actual characters who actually develop. My one beef with this movie is that it does not pass the Bechdel Rule, but I will forgive, because Pepper Potts is inoffensive. She is not a damsel in distress, and it is implied that her relationship with Tony Stark is complex and deep. And my favorite part? THIS IS A (small) SPOILER. At one point, the computer displays a solid gold (think Oscar statue) rendering. The camera pans to a (stereotypical) glossy 'rod, and Tony says, "Tell you what. Throw a little hotrod red in there." Fuck. Yeah. Jon Favreau now has a lifetime pass, between this and Swingers.

2) Star Trek trailer. I will cop to the fact that I screamed, "HELLS YEAH!" out loud. To a television screen. At 10:30 at night. I am SUCH a geek. My friends, I love the Enterprise. In my head right now, I have an overview map of the bridge. I know how to get from there to the captain's quarters, on both Kirk's ship and Picard's. I cannot wait. Can. Not. WAIT. J.J. Abrams better not fuck this up.
In case you're not as cool as me, Kirk's Enterprise is registry number NCC-1701. Picard's is NCC-1701-D.

Well, you knew I was a weak woman!

Stupid fabulous rockabilly boys! Deke 'n' Joe 'n' Chris are smokin' hot players, and their music is pretty great, too. I wish I didn't love them so....

Do you love musical theater?

How about supervillains? Captain Mal Reynolds? Doogie Howser? Sarcasm? Laundry?

Okay, if you love all of them, then you already know what I'm gonna say next. If not, hie thee IMMEDIATELY to Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog and languish in the marvelosity that springs fully formed from the mind of Joss Whedon. If you go and watch this and say anything - ANYTHING - derogatory in the comments, then you are dead to me. DEAD, I say, because this is the very pinnacle of webertainment, as far as I am concerned.

If that is not enough to convince you, might I just say that Nathan Fillion's shirt is decidedly nippletastic? I thought so.

MixtapeMixtapeMixtape!

Okay, so this version of Mixtape (does anyone else think this looks like the name of an ancient Aztec city?) is a little different. No theme; instead it's Song Association Mixtape! I'm gonna think of a song, and then one of you guys will post the very first song that comes to mind spurred on by my suggestion, and then somebody else will comment on song #2, and so on and so forth. It'll be fun! C'mon, stop whining. You know this has got to be better than typing random phrases into Wikipedia. Some ground rules: no repeats, since this is hypothetically going to have to listenable, and the songs have to be popular/well-known/recognizable enough that the next person in line can relate to them in some way, shape or form. Otherwise, we stall out, right? Also, I'm naming names: Lacy and Daisy, you guys have to come up with SOMETHING, just cuz I love you and I'm making you do it.


Ready for my first song?


Ready?



Okay, here we go:


Hold On by Wilson Phillips



Three things about this song:
1) Daisy and I listened to this song A LOT in the summer of 1990.
2) I used to really,really, really want to look like Wendy Wilson
3) Chynna Phillips looks like Tasha Yar, which I never noticed until watching this video. And that is your unnecessary ST:TNG reference for today.
I thought she died on Vagra II! My mistake, she went on to a mildly successful singing career!

In Which Our Heroine Further Outs Her Geeky Tendencies

Okay, so remember not too long ago when I was going on and on about the stuff that I know some stuff about, and I had that little rage episode about halflings? Yeah, well, I mentioned that I had a thing for Riker, which led to a little not-too-vicious ribbing, which led to me inexplicably Googling ST:TNG and ending up on Wil Wheaton's personal blog.

Wesley Crusher was a universally defiled character; everyone I knew hated him. Except, um, me. I loved that he was a relentless know it all, I loved that he considered the adults around him sort of idiots, I loved that he was allowed to be petulant and whiny. I was 12 years old, and while I crushed on Riker's what-the-hell-ever-attracted-me-to-him-at-least-he-wasn't-a-robot and longed to be empathetic, curly-haired Troi, I identified with Wesley. He was a kid a little too smart for his own good, a little lonely (I can only remember two or maybe three instances on the show that he was shown with peers), impatient as all hell to grow up and get it over with already. I understood that. I never, however, stopped for a single moment to consider Wil Wheaton, the actor who portrayed him. Turns out that me and Wil would totally be besties if 1) I lived in Southern California 2) I had a valid reason to be in his life, and 3) he didn't spend time hating on Huey Lewis fans.

I like him and his writing so much, in fact, that I have spent a lot of time - valuable time that I could have spent catching up on the archives of the 639,574 webcomics I am currently obsessed with - catching up on the archives of his blog. I think even if I didn't know that Ensign Wesley Crusher, for whom I had such an affinity, was writing, I would have spent time absorbing it, because he's funny and erudite and also a huge geek. He makes jokes about +3 gauntlets of gripping and failing a save vs. flirting, talks about his reverence for the captain's chair on set, and plays Rock Band with his stepsons. I want to have him fix tequila chicken tacos and throw on Pablo Honey and we can sit in the backyard with beer and talk about how weird it is that everybody hates a paladin, but every single one we've ever encountered was level 27 or something. I think it'd be neat.

I don't know if I will recover from the opprobrium I am inviting by saying this, but: mmmm, Wesley...