In The Shadow of Adaptation: Emma

Emma Woodhouse, clever, handsome, and rich, had lived nearly twenty one years with very little to vex her.

I went into this new adaptation of Emma curious but without much expectation. Emma is far and away my favorite of Jane Austen’s novels, not least because of it’s prickly sometimes silly heroine, who Austen described as, “no one but myself will like much.”

Of course many people love Emma Woodhouse, vexing and silly as she is, and I didn’t put too much pressure on this movie, since I have a lot of affection for 1996 adaptation starring Gwyneth Paltrow (an Emma if there ever was one) and the 2009 miniseries with Ramola Garai was not to my taste at all, and we have a perfect adaptation of Emma that exists and it’s called Clueless. 

With all of those caveats I was excited for a reason to pick up this book again, and happy to fall back into Emma’s world of matchmaking and new dresses and balls and a true and honest love built on the back of friendship and long held affection. (Mr. George Knightly would destroy that broody Fitzwilliam Darcy chap with one lecture and raised eyebrow and it would be glorious.) and Autumn De Wilde’s new film, with Anna Taylor-Joy in the lead is a delightful trifle of film.

De Wilde makes some choices that I absolutely love, one is that he’s very clear that he’s making a comedy, he leans into the absurdity of the manners and social dances that in a way that Austen’s books nearly always do, and adaptations tend to stay away from. His background as a music video director suits the tableaux that are necessary.

The other decision that De Wilde makes that sets the tone perfectly is cast the always wonderful Bill Nighy as Emma’s mercurial father. Mr. Woodhouse is an absurd character, always nervous about illness and wanting everything is own way. His daughter and her lover are of course happy to oblige him, but the silliness of the character is perfectly pitched here. Frankly, most of the cast is perfectly pitched to the arch and funny tone, and the ball scene is one of the sexiest ways of shooting those scenes (always the sexiest in the adaptations).

I’m odd in my Austen preferences, liking Emma more than Pride And Prejudice is the least of it. I hold Ang Lee & Emma Thompson’s Sense And Sensibility as the high watermark, not the BBC P&P starring Colin Firth (although it is very very good.) Overall, i consider a wonderful adaptation of one of my favorite books, that I will most likely be revisiting a time or two.

She Used To Be Mine

Last night I was curled up on the couch reading Maybe You Should See Someone by Lori Gotlieb (I’m not going to review the book, but OMG READ IT! So good!) eating a salad and I got caught up on my podcasts for the week.

I had a few thoughts, I could get myself set up with CBS All Access and watch Picard something I’d been looking forward to all week. Or I could throw some music on, and hold to my, “trying to watch less TV” plan which I’d failed miserably at this week. (I watched so much TNG in prep!) So instead I flipped on my phone to music and scanned, looking for a radio station or playlist.

And then I remembered I hadn’t listened to Kristin Chenoweth’s For The Girls an album she released in the summer. (I had listened to the duet version of “I Will Always Love You” with Dolly Parton from the album, because HELLO????) I searched her name and clicked it on. The book is about therapy and the ways we change and don’t. And I realized while a lot of writers I know did big “Decade Wrap Ups” and I didn’t.

At the time I didn’t have the bandwith but then I started thinking about the girl I was in 2010, and the woman I am now. I’m proud of who I am and the life I’ve built, but there are days when I miss her. The girl who never could have waited six months to listen to an album where her favorite soprano sings songs written by women.  Who would have talked about what the decade behind had meant to her.

But then I remembered how afraid she was. Of everything. Of her talent and ideas and interests, her body, her sexuality, her illness.

And then I’m so grateful for the past ten years. For finishing school and my time in Brooklyn and Tom Foolery and The Plaza and Comic Con and The Desk Jobs and Disney World and Marina and Montclair and Therapy and Meds and Yoga. And I’m grateful to myself, for realizing who I am rules. That I’m fun, that saying “I’m not feeling up to it” will not make the people I care about abandon me or hate me, that I can bond with people even when our superficial stuff isn’t the same. That you can outgrow people while still wishing them well, while others will grow with you and both things are beautiful and normal.

I also want to hug that girl, I want to tell her it isn’t going to look how she thinks but it’s still going to be wonderful. That she won’t have the wedding, house or kids she wanted (yet) but she’ll have dancing until dawn with the people she loves and a space that’s just hers and a wall full of smiling snapshots.

It’s been a nice ten years, is my point, and I’m happy to have grown up.

60 Books In 2019 #57: The Book Of Dust: La Belle Sauvage By Phillip Pullman

Last week, we discussed how my reread of His Dark Materials inspired by the HBO/BBC adaptations resparked my interest in this world, and how I was looking forward to The Book Of Dust.

La Belle Sauvage takes place during the first year of Lyra Belaqua’s life, and while she’s important, (chosen one) the people who become important on her journey later only flit around the edges here. (I squealed when Farder Coram showed up!)  The story is mainly about a boy from Oxford named Malcolm who spends time at the convent where she was first surrendered by her parents, and develops a brotherly protective feeling for the baby girl.

Of course, as he gets caught up with Lyra, Malcolm finds himself in danger of The Magesterium, who are even scarier here than they are is His Dark Materials. The sinister child army of The Order Of St. Alexander really freaked me out. But Malcolm and his friend Alice also battle a terrifying Magistereum opperative with a hyena daemon, who has lost a front leg.

Which leads to my favorite part of this book, which is the use of daemons. You really see them as a manifestation of the character’s souls here, and the way we grow and the mystery of them. Malcolm fascination with how baby Lyra and Pantalaimon interact was shared by me! What a fun detail that babies in this world chatter to their daemon who chatters back! That daemons can’t talk until their humans can. That baby daemons are even more flighty and changing than child daemons!

The book was delightful, a bit thicker and deeper than it’s predecessors, so I’m going to hold off on The Secret Commonwealth for a bit, because there’s a lot digest here.

Up next is Soy Sauce For Beginners by Kirsten Chen.

60 Books In 2019 #43: The Shining By Stephen King

If you’ve hung around this blog for the past two years, you know how deeply I regret not letting myself be scared and falling into the work of Stephen King years ago. But as I read The Shining last weekend,and stunned a beach house full of graduated Georgia Tech Sorority girls by explaining I’d never read it before. (Well, the ones that had known me for years were stunned. The ones I’d never met before barely cared, which is fair.) I realized even with my pediatrician mandated, mother sleep needing rules against horror in my adolescence, I probably wouldn’t have been reading King anyway.

If there was one thing in the world that I craved as a teenager it was acceptance. I’ve often described myself as feeling like a guest star with my various groups of friends. (This caused one therapist, one of my favorites, who I had to part ways with because of changing insurance, to remind me that “life is not narrative.” Mr. King would probably disagree, Ma’am!) I hid my nerdy obsessions from my friends, where they didn’t fit. With my theater friends, I was all about Sondheim and Schwartz, with my hometown friends I loved indie rock and sitcoms and old movies, with my school friends (who had some theatrical crossover) it was punk rock and YA novels and blockbuster movies. (This allowed the X-Men and Batman to creep in occasionally.)

If I’d gotten into Stephen King then, and started talking about Danny Torrance’s Shine in relation to Jake Chamber’s Touch I don’t know that I could have survived the baffled looks.

This preamble is all to say that talking about The Shining, Stanley Kubrick’s brilliant but very different from this book much to the chagrin of it’s author, film would have been acceptable conversation among all my friends, the book was anathema to them.

Anyway, The Shining, which rules. Just definitively, it’s amazing, and I’m glad I didn’t read it while I was still high on the tower but saved it for when I knew I was going to need a kick start back into his style, with several big deal adaptions on their way.

The book itself is a masterful haunted house story, with The Overlook Hotel taking on a monstrous personality, and it’s mysterious “manager.” (I believe I said outloud as Grady, the long dead caretaker discussed management with Jack Torrance, “The Crimson King?”) Because I began my constant reading journey with The Dark Tower I know I am doomed to feel the pull of the beam whenever I pick up a King book, ya dig? But I was eventually able to see past my own tower induced blinders to the horror and scares at The Shining’s heart, the horrors of addiction and rage and toxic masculinity. The things that consume Jack Torrance as his wife Wendy tries to shelter Danny from them.

And let’s talk about Wendy, shall we? Man, if I’d read this book when it came out and then watched that movie I’d have been PISSED AS HELL about Wendy, who is nothing but a tower of strength and patience balancing on a frayed nerve from her first moments. Granted, King has a tendency to do this with his women, he writes soft hearted survivor ladies, who come out of the crucible of male cruelty saintly and strong. It’s a problem on it’s own but it’s a hell of a sight better than the screaming, whining, snivelling performance given by Shelly Duvall in the movie.

Danny Torrance is a great character, maybe a little young for his role, King hadn’t yet hit his sweet spot of tween hero boys yet, so five year old Danny feels over precocious. (If Danny were 10 he’d be perfect. Then again, if Danny were 10 he’d be Jake Chambers…so there’s that.) (Look, we all know this is ending with me reading The Dark Tower again, I mean, not yet, but it’s going to happen.)

Anyway, I really enjoyed this book. Up next is With The Fire On High by Elizabeth Acevedo. Let’s get our YA on y’all!

60 Books In 2019 #23: P.S. I Still Love You By Jenny Han

Lara Jean is back and she’s as adorable as ever!

While I wasn’t as completely sucked in and charmed by P.S. I Still Love You as I was by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before. (Y’all know how I feel about middle chapters.) I was still so happy to hang out in this world again. And frankly, Lara Jean and Peter trying to navigate an actual relationship is pretty cute. Not as cute as their attempt to not fall in love while pretending to be together, but still cute.

Of course there are oodles of complications. There’s the fact that someone took a video of them making out on the ski trip and then posts it online as a sex tape. (It turns out to be Genevieve, Peter’s evil mean girl ex) and one of the other letter recipients comes back into the picture. (John Ambrose McClaren. The Eponine/Brooke Davis Curse strikes again! He’s ADORABLE)  (Lara Jean even references the Eponine thing, because of course she does.) 

There’s a lot of angst, a lot of Kitty saying the angst is stupid, a lot of Lara Jean second guessing herself, a lot of Peter being kind of a jerk about stuff, and a killer game of Assassin. (Not actually killer…but you know.) Plus we learn why Gen’s being such a tremendous tool. (Her dad is cheating on her mom with a college student! GROSS!)

Up next is When Life Gives You Lululemons by Lauren Weisberger. This is really Weisberger’s last shot with me. I haven’t liked any of her books since Everyone Worth Knowing, and this is the second sequel to The Devil Wears Prada. The first sequel Revenge Wears Prada is truly worth forgetting. Did you think Andy was annoying the first time? Just you wait! She’s even worse in her 30’s! But this one centers on Emily, who frankly should have been the main character from the beginning.

The First Annual Fangirl Airing Of Grievances

A very Happy Festivus to you and yours!

For the past few years, this has been a thing that I’ve wanted to do, and have always forgotten about it until it’s too late. While my best of 2018 will be coming in the next few days (hint, we’re going to be talking about The Good Place, A LOT) I thought it would be fun to whine about some of my pop culture issues from the past year, keeping with the traditions of Festivus.

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The Purging Of The Defenders From Netflix

Who could have seen this one coming? OK, anyone who knows how corporate consolidation works and wasn’t blinded by “X-Men In The MCU!” and “Full Star Wars distribution rights!” as diversionary tactics probably did. But this is still a bummer. I’m behind on these shows, but they were well made and critically well received, so it definitely sucks.

Season 2 Of The Handmaid’s Tale

There is literally no reason why we needed a season 2 of this show, when season 1 was such an excellent mini series adaptation of the novel. While there was some gold in this season (Serena Joy and Bradley Whitford’s Commander realizing they’d built themselves terrible prisons. Moira trying to adjust to life in Canada after the trauma of her life as a Handmaid and at Jezebel’s) most of it shaved down and softened the bluntness of the allegory. And June’s choice to return to Gilead rather than escape was just plain awful.

Midge And Joel’s Reconciliation(ish) on The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

NO! BAD AMY SHERMAN-PALLADINO! BAD! If Midge was going to have ill advised casual sex with someone before heading out on tour it should have been Lenny Bruce.

(I don’t actually think that should have happened either.)

Riverdale…just Riverdale

Back after the season premier I wrote about how I was hopeful for the new season of everyone’s favorite silly horror show dressed up as a teen soap. Instead, within three week’s I’d already dropped it and decided I’d wait until the summer to binge it. Archie in jail? Betty maybe possessed or something? Veronica doing her best Chuck Bass impression and opening up ambitious restaurant concepts? I did catch up enough to watch the big flashback episode, which was fun, if only to watch KJ Appa and Cole Sprouse channel Luke Perry and Skeet Ulrich as we remember them so perfectly. But overall, I’m just not as excited about this show as I once was. (This may be because Cheryl has been sidelined…I will neither confirm nor deny it.)

The show remains as messy as it ever was, but the messiness isn’t fun anymore.

Tahani/Eleanor Shippers

The only thing that I have to complain about in The Good Place is the way the shippers are behaving. As a terrible trash ship person myself, I understand their zealotry. (My complete denial that Rose Tico is even a character in The Last Jedi surely illustrates this.) But my GOD people, it’s been illustrated time and again that although Eleanor is attracted to Tahani, and perhaps Tahani is attracted back (we don’t have confirmation) Chidi is her actual soul mate. Also, when someone ships a different pairing from you, even for a canonically queer character (Eleanor), that doesn’t make them homophobic. Especially since Eleanor isn’t a lesbian, she’s bi (or possibly Pan…). If you want to watch a tiny sassy blonde bi-sexual woman have a fulfilling relationship with a woman who is tall, sexy and her tempermental opposite, I suggest you watch Legends Of Tomorrow, because Sara and Ava are great! In the meantime, let me enjoy watching Eleanor and Chidi fall for each other over and over again as they strive towards enlightenment and salvation.

Penny Marshall Died

I mean, she was on the older side, but still. This is sad. She was a funny, talented lady. I wish I could find where I saw it but someone suggested she’s now in heaven having a laugh and a cocktail with her friends Carrie and Nora. I find this a delightful way to remember her. Also, Big and A League Of Their Own are rad, and Hanks’s best acting work is in Big.

Ben Affleck, Henry Cavill and Amy Adams Leaving The DCEU

THE CAST WASN’T THE PROBLEM.

That said if this, and Armie Hammer being all popular serious actor man now, convinces Warner Brothers to make a Man from UNCLE sequel, all will be forgiven.

Selina Kyle leaving Bruce Wayne At The Altar

This is some BULLSHIT right here. Not to mention the reasoning being that “if they get married, he can’t really be Batman anymore.” NOOOOPPPPPEEEE.

I wanted the mainline universe to become a place where Damian was Helena’s OLDER BROTHER. CAN YOU IMAGINE THAT PARTICULAR LEVEL OF AWESOME?

“Remake The Last Jedi,” “Solo sucks,” and the fall of Star Wars fandom

Star Wars is one of my favorite things in the world, Crystan once said, “Reenie’s obsessed with Game Of Thrones it’s her favorite thing to talk about.” I replied, “It’s not my favorite thing, it’s not Star Wars or Les Mis.” But this year, well, I didn’t like talking about Star Wars so much anymore. The sexist, racist internet bullshit overtaking my favorite conversation topic soured me on everything involved. I gave up even my cushiest and safest internet spaces, (The Mary Sue, though this wasn’t the only reason) when I found myself in a swirling argument with a man who was trying to convince me that Kathleen Kennedy deserved no credit for the successes of her producing career but did deserve to be fired for the faltering of Solo. Going so far as to claim E.T. a project that she shepherded and championed from day one, didn’t benefit from her involvement.

The Full Politicization Of My Pop Internet Spaces

I get it. I do. I hate 45 as well. Truly. But when I’m going to a pop culture space online, I’m not going to see commentary on the political process. A think piece on how a piece of work converses with the political moment, sure, but I read news sources to learn about the goings on in Washington. The blurring of the lines between politics and theater (which isn’t to say political theater, in both senses of the phrase, politicians taking advantage of humanity’s  tendency to create narrative and “theater” commenting on the political hasn’t always existed) is part of how we all got into this mess.

No Game Of Thrones

Silly me, hoping against hope, I thought we might actually see The Winds Of Winter this year to make up for the fact that we got no new episodes of Game Of Thrones but no. I’m sure Fire And Blood is quite good, though I haven’t gotten around to reading it, but man, it hurt me not having the show around this year.

That’s it! That’s what I’m annoyed about this year. What about you, fair readers? Anything in pop culture righteously piss you off?

 

 

 

Ultimate Teen Drama FanFic: That Day At The Docks

A few weeks ago I put together what I consider to be the Ultimate Teen Drama Cast Of Characters. I mentioned at the end of that post that I might start playing with some fanfiction with them. Here’s the first attempt at that.

For some context notes. I’ve decided to set it in Capeside in the summer. This way I don’t have to deal with how the hell Blair is at a suburban high school, or Seth is on the east coast. (I’ve transplanted Dylan, Wallace and Brooke east and north respectively. And as Riverdale is both everywhere and nowhere by design, Jughead isn’t a problem) They’re summering there, problem solved! Also, having watched Dawson’s Creek about a dozen times, I know Capeside’s geography better than other settings. (The OC’s Newport seemed to grow and shrink as necessary and Gossip Girl’s Manhattan was completely nonsensical. Tree Hill and Capeside are quite literally the same place…) Other nuances of my imaginary mash up will come out in time. 

Joey Potter was not as excited as her classmates that it was summer. For her, unlike most them, the closing of Sophomore year meant working at both the marina gas station and a local diner to save for college, rather than lounging around at the beach all day. At least at school she got to focus on things she liked, reading and art. Work was just, work.

“Joey Potter!” She turned hearing her name and smiled seeing two boys approaching her dock. Wallace Fennell and Jughead Jones were her closest friends at Capeside High and at the moment, a week into the summer a welcome sight.

“Hey,” she said as they reached her. “How’s freedom?”

“Boring,” Jughead shrugged, jumping down onto the dock. “I thought you were at the diner today.”

“I was this morning,” Joey said, “then here until six.”

“Guess what we’re doing tonight?” Wallace grinned. Joey looked at Jughead who shook his head.

“Um,” she pressed her lips, “nothing, like always?”

“Mr. Fennell here has garnered an invite to the beach party,” Jughead rolled his eyes. “He’s spent the past hour trying to convince me to go. You’re the deciding vote.”

“We’re not going to that,” Joey laughed.

“Why not?” Wallace shrugged. “It could be fun.”

“It won’t be,” Joey said. “That party is just an excuse for Brooke Davis to scope out which summer people she’s going to sleep with until Labor Day.” Wallace shook his head.

“You two, need to broaden your horizons,” he said, “not all summer people are evil.”

“Just most of them,” Joey pointed out.

And Brooke’s actually really cool,” Wallace pointed out. “We hung out a bunch during basketball season. People misunderstand her.”

“OK, one,” Jughead chimed in, “I agree with Joey, summer people are like ninety percent evil. And, two, I don’t care how nice Brooke Davis was to you while she was in cheerleader mode, she is probably the devil.”  Joey nodded.

“Well, I’m going,” he said, “and I would like to go with my two best friends,” Joey sighed. “Just think of all the material for making fun of people you’ll get. Just in this one night, this will fuel an entire summer worth of snark, I bet.”

“Fine,” Joey sighed, “I’ll go but if one, I mean it, even one, douchey summer dude asks to show me his boat, I’m not speaking to you until the fourth of July.”

“I’ll go to protect Joey from said douchey summer dudes,” Jughead agreed, “and that thing you said about making fun of people.”

“Great,” Wallace said, “pick you up at 8?” Joey sighed and nodded.

***

Blair Waldorf sighed miserably sitting on the back porch of the large beach side mansion she’d arrived at the night before. What had possessed her mother to decamp them to this sleepy Cape Cod town for the summer instead of the Hamptons like everyone else they knew? Blair picked at the croissant in front of her and sipped her mimosa mindlessly. It was going to be a long summer, she knew that for sure.

“Miss Blair?” Dorota, her maid walked out. “There’s someone here to see you?”

“Who?” Blair said. “Dorota, we don’t know anyone here!” A girl about her age walked out the door and waved somewhat awkwardly. The other girl shared a few similarities to Blair, similar dark hair, and wide brown eyes. She was dressed in a pair of yoga pants and tank top that said “Minute Men” across the chest though, which Blair realized was probably from her school. So the similarities ended with the physical, because sartorially Blair wouldn’t be caught dead out of a gymnasium dressed like this.

“Hi, yeah, hi,” the girl said, “I’m Brooke, I live a few blocks away and I was going for a run and saw you and wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.” Blair smiled placidly.

“Oh,” she said, at least the run explained the outfit. “Sure, I mean, whatever. I’m Blair Waldorf.”

“Right,” Brooke nodded and shook her hand. “Anyway, there’s this party on the beach tonight, we have one every year, to welcome the summer people. You should come.”

“We?” Blair said, her eyebrows raised. “So, you’re like what, a townie?”

“Unfortunately,” Brooke sighed, “but some of us are more civilized than others.” Blair smiled. At least this girl knew enough to acknowledge her lower social status. She could work with that.

“Alright,” Blair said, “so tell me about this party.” She gestured to a chair and Brooke smiled and sat down.

***

“Damn it,” Seth Cohen mumbled, as the sail boat he’d rented for the summer failed to catch the wind. “Once again, I have been foiled by Atlantic weather.” He knew that eventually he’d get the hang of east coast sailing, but for now, he was missing the calmer Pacific Ocean and the spots he knew in Newport.

He could almost hear his dad teasing him about it, though. He, Seth Cohen, who had always obsessed about moving to New England, bitching about it.

“Need some help, man?” A guy in a wet suit carrying a surf board jogged up.

“Sure,” Seth said, as the mysterious surfer helped him pull the boat into the dock. “Thanks for the help.”

“Sure thing,” he nodded. “You’re here for the summer? I don’t recognize you.”

“Yeah,” Seth nodded, “um, a couple of pushes to the parents and I managed a summer away from California sunshine. I’m Seth.”

“Dylan,” the surfer grinned and shook his hand, “yeah, I blew of Cali a few years ago too. Dad decided work would be better in Boston, and we wound up here.” Seth nodded. Something about this Dylan guy reminded him a little bit of his foster brother, who had not made the cross country trek with the rest of them.

“Alright,” Seth nodded. “You surf?”

“Whenever possible,” Dylan grinned, “you?” Seth shook his head. “OK, cool meeting you man, nice boat, and see you around.” He left and then turned around. “Do you want to go to this party thing, tonight?”

“Party?” Seth said. Yeah, definitely a Ryan.

“Yeah,” Dylan shrugged, “it’s the townies way of saying, ‘hey summer people, we can all drink cheap beer together. No need for dividing lines.'”

“Capeside is very different from Newport then,” Seth said.

“Different from Beverly Hills, too,” Dylan said with a laugh, “but in a good way mostly. You in?”

“Sure,” Seth nodded. “Party sounds good.”

[title of show], Killing My Vampires and remembering to be “Nine People’s Favorite Thing”

When I lose inspiration or the drive to create, there are lots of things I do. I watch Julie And Julia, or listen to Kevin Smith talk on one of his podcasts or specials, or sometimes I just take a break from creating and consume because I’m tired.

But in the past few months, I’ve found a new one to add to the rotation. And that’s [title of show] which I had vague memories of from my college fading theatrical obsession days (it opened on Broadway in 2008, I for sure watched a few you tube clips of it, but never saw it) and it came roaring back to me as something I needed in my life when the podcast that is my soul This Is Rad did an episode about it and I listened through the cast album.

[title of show] is a musical about writing a musical, and it’s whacky and silly and perfect and lovely and everything about it is great.

But it wasn’t until I posted a video of the particularly funny and insightful “Die Vampire Die” on a friend’s blog post about feeling creatively blocked that I realized how much in the past few months I’ve come to rely on [title of show]’s viewpoint to keep myself moving creatively.

Particularly I’ve been thinking about “Air Freshener Vampires” and the “Vampires of Self Doubt” which require you to sanitize your work and remind you that you’re not good enough anyway so just give up. (And to fight them, remember that if you clean up too much you’ll wind up with a tight paragraph about kittens that your grandmother will just love, and that if a stranger said those kinds of things to you, you’d think they were a mentally ill asshole)

I’m pouring a lot of my heart and soul into The Marina Chroniclemore than I even thought I would previously. That said, it’s not necessarily yielding the kind of returns I’d hoped for. (But that all of my closest friends are reading it totally warms my heart. Love you girls to bits!) And that was discouraging until I remembered that I’d rather be nine people’s favorite thing than ninety nine people’s ninth favorite thing.

That is, I’d rather my original vision speak to only a few people than water it down or change it to make more people like it.

I wanted to write One Tree Hill in Westeros (not exactly, but that’s the gist!). I wanted to focus on the myriad of complicated threads that hold teenage girls who love one another deeply together. I wanted to talk about family, and heartbreak and getting what you want and realizing that it wasn’t what you wanted after all.

Most of all I wanted to create these girls. These infuriating, beautiful, powerful girls who are in control of their own lives and fates. These girls realizing that they have to forge their own path, because the carefully laid out plans of their lives don’t make sense to them, or are gone for whatever reason. That’s who Marina and Annalise are to me, and I won’t compromise on that, not for a minute.

And when that doesn’t work and I still have writers block, I remind myself that writing should be easy, like a monkey driving a speedboat.

Also! Read my thing. Next week is going to start an excellent jumping on point! (And a reprieve if Marina’s boy whining and Daddy worrying is not your thing!)

Getting Snobby: A Rant

I try really hard to not judge other people’s taste in things. I also try not to hate on things, because making things is hard, getting things out into the world is even harder, (Check out The Marina Chronicle! New Entries every Thursday morning!)  and maybe your thing just isn’t for me. Also, walking around looking for shit to hate is exhausting, it’s much easier to just avoid things you don’t like. It’s not always possible and sometimes, things are unavoidable.

And oh boy, has it been tough this week on the unavoidable front.

I mentioned my myriad of issues with Ready Player Onethis book was very deeply, not for me in a lot of ways, which is fine, except for that I am, at the moment, feeling alone in that. Not in my web life, where my feminist nerd circles are happy to rant against it’s bro-ey fantasy fulfillment, it’s trash fire female characters and it’s tediously bad writing, But my real life, that’s different. Someone recently asked for book recommendations on facebook, and knowing this person’s taste I recommended Crazy Rich Asians, (But also like everyone, read Crazy Rich Asians.) There then proceeded to be about 10 people, who’s taste I generally respect and overlap with, recommending Ready Player One, which among other things, I don’t think this person will like, but you know what, it’s her call.

With books I have to be really careful, because people tend to tell me that I’m asking people to take it as seriously as I do. But I just want to scream, that no! That’s not it! I think the thing is bad! And yes, I do take it seriously, because I want to be a writer and I studied literature for a long time, and maybe you should listen to me when I say a book is bad, because like, I know what I’m talking about! I have a diploma and everything.

This isn’t to say that there aren’t bad books that I love. (Twilight…and…well, mostly Twilight.) But I know that bad things I like are bad. I cop to it. I don’t go around telling everyone they’re great.

Also, on Saturday, I met an adorable 16 year old theater kid on the train to NYC. I’m always happy when I meet teenage theater geeks, and I want to hug them and tell them: YES! EXIST! ENJOY THIS TIME IN YOUR LIFE! IT WILL NOT LAST BUT YOU WILL ALWAYS LOOK BACK ON IT FONDLY! She was obsessed with The Great Comet, (I really liked this kid!) and was on her way to see Hello Dolly! because to use her words, “OMG Bernadette! Right?” We touched on Dear Evan Hansen, which she loved but felt didn’t deserve it’s win over The Great Comet (AGREED)

I managed to keep this rant in. Even more than judging people’s reading and watching habits, I don’t judge people for liking bad music. I have terrible taste in music. I think The Backstreet Boys should be considered high art. I adore ABBA, and own, not I’ve downloaded to stream, paid actual money for all of Katy Perry’s albums.

But that’s not the case when it comes to showtunes. Oh sure, I like my share of trash and mediocrity. (The Pirate Queen, table for 1!) But generally, I know bad when I hear it, versus knowing when something is just not my thing. (To use one composer as an example: Elton John. Lestat: The Musical, bad. Billy Eliot, excellent, not to my taste.)

And now we get to Pasek and Paul.

Sigh.

I don’t like them. I don’t think they’re particularly good. They’re fine. The do serviceable work. I thought as a cohesive whole, La La Land was spectacular. But I remember next to nothing about it’s songs, it’s the strong visuals and good performances that made that movie. Not the songs. A Christmas Story is a serviceable musical with again, no real memorable songs. And then there are the big two. Dear Evan Hansen and The Greatest Showman.

None of these songs are great musical theater songs, except maybe “Waving Through The Window,” and “You Will Be Found.” The rest are vapid, derivative, predictable with next to no lyrical depth or anything interesting going on musically. They also wrote that horrendous “Running To You” song from The Flash musical, which following after Rachel Bloom’s delightful, “I’m Your Super Friend,” was particularly egregious and all of the dumb mushy duets from Smash season 2. (Ok, fine I listen to “Heart Shaped Wreckage” and “Rewrite This Story” a lot but only because Jeremy Jordan’s voice is from God, and “Original” is still mega dumb.)

And why does this annoy me so much? So some guys made some dumb, derivative, commercial art, so what?

I wouldn’t care, except for that their dumb derivative commercial art is being talked about and rewarded over actually good masterful art in the same genre.

Look, I get it, Lin-Manuel Miranda isn’t exactly hurting for prestige, but I still burns me that fricking “City of Stars,” beat “How Far I’ll Go” for Best Song. And it really really burns me that The Great Comet and Come From Away lost out on Tony’s to a stupid vapid pop musical with dumb bad songs. And it really really super burns me that because of timing and this inexplicable prestige of theirs, that they’re always going to be mentioned alongside one of the greatest musical theater composers of all time (Miranda) and the pop musical composers we should be talking about instead (Sarah Barielles and The Lopezes) and are getting mainstream attention that could be going to someone who the mainstream hasn’t found yet and might be better than all of the aforementioned people. (RACHEL BLOOM! RACHEL BLOOM! RACHEL BLOOM!) 

Anyway, all of this was just a roundabout way of saying that instead of Ready Player One people should read Crazy Rich Asians, and instead of doing literally anything else, people should watch Crazy Ex-Girlfriend.

Merry Dapper Day: Hotel Review and Favorites

OK, so, the trip went really well, so it’s time, obviously, to talk about staying at Pop Century, and my favorites from the trip.

So, we stayed at Pop Century and it was pretty great. We were in the 80’s section in one of the newly renovated rooms. (We requested it. I also requested a top floor room, this was a mistake that I felt bad about the whole trip.)

The resort is great, huge, and well laid out, with a great food court, and a good gift shop. The new rooms though, are the real reason to stay here. (besides price, the price really is great.)

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The rooms feature a queen bed, and a queen sized murphy bed that when it’s folded into the wall is a small table for two. This allows for extra space when you’re not sleeping and a table is a great way to make that space also functional. The rooms also feature linoleum floors instead of carpet which also allows the room to look sleek and modern.

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Also there’s cool pop art of Mickey and Pluto.

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Given the choice, I’d spend the little bit extra to stay at Riverside, just because having a proper lobby bar rather than just the food court is something that’s important to me. But I was a tag a long this trip, so I happily tagged along and really enjoyed Pop!

Favorites:

Ride:

Fligth Of Passage holds on to the top spot, it’s so special and beautiful and amazing and wonderful. Runner up goes to Dumbo, which after 30 years on this earth I have finally ridden and really is quite magical.

Show:

This was a tough call between The Very Merry Christmas Parade and Festival Of The Lion King, and I think I have to stick with the parade. It’s a beautiful tribute to the Christmas spirit and the costumes are absolutely divine.

Meal:

Tusker House takes the cake, not just because of the characters. I loved the food and atmosphere and service too. Le Cellier was great, really, and I’m glad to have done it, but in the future, if I’m going to spend that money, I’d rather go back to Jiko or California Grill, or try one of the signature restaurants at a resort that I haven’t tried yet. (I still have to do both Narcoosee & Citricois, plus Artist Point and Flying Fish and Yachtsman Steakhouse.)

Drink:

This one does go to Le Cellier, the Coudoulet de Beaucastel Grenache Blend I drank with that dinner was divine. I’ve even passed the label and name on to the wine shop that I go to, so that they can keep an eye out for it and let me know if they order it. I know just enough about wine to know what I like and what pairs well with different meats, and this fit the “good with steak,” and “I like this,” bills quite well.

Snack:

Pongu Lumpia for the win! Sweet, tangy and a cool texture, this was for sure my favorite thing I ate the whole trip.

Special Bonus: Holiday Favorite

It was really cool to see the parks all done up in their Christmas finery, but I have to say that my favorite park Holiday decorations were at Studios. They fit with the Hollywood motif perfectly, and really make it look like something different for, ahem, that time of year.