Friday, October 27, 2017

Superheroes

I think I've finally figured out why I like superheroes. Aside from the dope powers, I mean. And specifically the reason I enjoy the superhero multiverses of Marvel and DC. It's the same reason I love reading through the various works of the Star Wars Expanded Universe (even though they're not canon anymore. Thanks, Disney) and Tolkien's seemingly endless Middle-Earth mythology. It's why there are so many fanfictions written for the Marauders from Harry Potter. It's what makes Butler's flowcharts and Sutton's lectures so oddly compelling. ANd it's why the Marvel Cinematic Universe continues to be one of the most financially successful ventures in the history of cinema.

We love lore. Huge, fantastical threads, reaching back for centuries that trace to today. Stories are so much better, so much more substantive, when they have history. When the story does not truly begin where it begins, but when there are eons that have built up to this one point. Imagine if The Force Awakens was the first Star Wars movie ever released. It would still be a great movie, no doubt (if anyone ever tells you it's "just A New Hope recycled," cut that person out of your life.) But picture the final scene with Luke and Rey. The audience on opening night (which I attended 😎 ) wouldn't have erupted into uproarious applause. But because they have forty years of knowledge on Luke Skywalker, because he's built up this image as a cultural icon, because he is more than a character limited to this one movie, the scene hits hard. But, at the same time, A New Hope was still a great film.  And while the audience wouldn't have erupted into applause had The Force Awakens been a standalone film, there still would have been a sense of awe: "This is the historical figure there's been so much talk about this entire movie. That-- that's the guy! Whoa." Because we inherently love lore. There may be individual preferences when it comes to implied versus explicit history, but having a history at all makes it so that no action stands alone.

If, like me, you occasionally act, you know how deeply relieving it is to have a character history, whether it's canon or something you develop on your own. The more extensive the better. Every action, every verbal tic, every slight lean, every syllable of every word, is conscious. They are motivated by years and years of development and history. Each action carries with it the energy of that person's entire life up to that point and then some. And such is the case with stories themselves.

That's why I find superhero universes and superhero team-ups so fun. The Avengers would not have been the cultural and cinematic watershed that it was, had Iron Man, The Incredible Hulk, Captain America: The First Avenger, and Thor (three cheers for white dudes!) not been released prior. Everyone of their choices hits with so much more impact and all have the potential to make you go, "Ooh! Ooh! That's because of X that happened in their other movie!" Same goes for The Defenders, but that doesn't excuse the fact that it was an utterly trash movie.

Guardians of the Galaxy, which had a team of characters that hadn't been introduced prior, was by no means unexciting (overrated, but that's a different discussion), but who are the raccoon, the green lady, the tree, and the white dude? Why should I care? And what I thought was the worst part about Guardians and, indeed, every team-up movie that didn't do what Avengers did, is how clunkily exposited each character's personal history is shoved into the plot. They literally have a scene where a guy lists out each member's rap sheet during a police lineup, one after the other. I am by no means a thorough (or professional for that matter) writer myself, but introducing your characters via lineup is like Chapter 2 in Lazy Screenwriting 101. C'mon James Gunn.

Superheroes are particularly fun because as opposed to Tolkien's or Lucas' tales, they take place in a world that's largely identical to ours. This means less room for intricate character histories, because Middle-Earth and the galaxy far far away have to be developed extensively before they can get to that. (Though the histories of worlds and universes are fun in their own right and the endlessness of the worlds adds a sort of spatial parallel to lore's temporal endlessness.) But superheroes get to put humanity on display at the individual level. You watch personal histories, personal conflicts and threads, which is far easier to connect to than the history of a nation-state or a planet. And since this is an industry that's been riding high for half a century, these histories reach way back.

These far-reaching histories get even more interesting once these separate threads have interacted for a while. Seeing Captain America and Iron Man interact in Avengers is awesome, but it's even more awesome in Captain America: Civil War Now, instead of just being motivated by their distinct histories, they're also motivated by their connected histories. "Ooh! Ooh! This conflict has been building up since The Avengers, when it was clear there would be a struggle in the power dynamic between the two, supplemented by their contrary values of protection and freedom which also caused conflict in Age of Ultron!"

It's kinda like having an inside joke with the stories you're consuming. A little wink and nod to something you both know happened. And while it doesn't define the quality of a work, it makes it pretty damn fun.








Friday, October 13, 2017

Awake

This one's gonna be short

My vote for the greatest sight and the greatest sound in the world, respectively: The night sky after snowfall and the chirping of birds.

When I was younger, I used to be really scared of going to sleep at night. Sleep, to me, was the ultimate relinquishing of control. My mind was free to wander into dark and scary corners I would never conceive of while awake. Nightmares are the product of an unreined consciousness. My body was similarly at danger. Rendered a useless sack of blood and bones, they could not defend against various villains that would inevitably come into my room. And something about the night, when good life has packed up, seems to produce a greater potential for evil to crawl up out of the corners where it usually hides.

So I would stay up, maintain my strongest defense, my consciousness, for as long as possible, often until the powerful tug of fatigue rendered me unable to. The skill has transferred some benefits to the present-day since my ability to push through the long hours of the night is useful for tight deadlines. At the time though, it didn't have the same practicality to it.

During the times when I didn't fall asleep, when I managed to make it through the entire night, I came to love two things, a sight and a sound: The glow of early morning and the chirping of birds. If I had a say in what the last things I could see and hear would be, it would be those two. They came to signal safety and comfort. When I saw the faint light of the sun starting to rise, accompanied by tentative chirps, it felt like life was coming back. There was no more need to be on guard, the world would no longer abide the creatures that might have come crawling in the night. There was life in the world now and that life could watch over me as I rested for a bare few hours.

My love for the early glow and chirping began as a love of safety, but there was also something enticing about the limbo of them which made it superior to the chattering of birds and bright sun at high noon. The world was awake but absent of the interference of human life, straddling that boundary between consciousness and unconsciousness. The light was substantive but faint, not glaring and noisy like in the day. The birds were testing the waters, not yet ready to screech at the world in full-powered bursts. Though I usually fell asleep as soon as I could, I relished the few moments between the waking of the earth and my drifting off. In those moments, the world was at its purest, untouched by motion, and entirely my own.

The feeling of a glowing sky is how I imagine pioneers, explorers, early migratory populations felt. Before every inch of the earth was mapped, before everywhere you went would have people. When you could go out and explore and explore and explore the endless bounds and be at the mercy of the earth and not the other way around. When life in this place was still learning to walk. That wonderful limbo of possibility.

The issue with dawn, though, is that it's fleeting. For the few moments of its existence, it's fantastic, but it's bookended by the sluggishly departing night and rapidly approaching day. The only time this isn't true is the night sky after snowfall. After a fresh snow (which itself is already a fantastic thing to behold), once the sun has left, light remains in the sky: An eerie glow of a sky drifting off but not ready to sleep just yet. It's fucking gorgeous and unlike dawn, which is fleeting and always growing brighter, the night sky after snowfall keeps a constant glow through the witching hours. With dawn, you get to own the world for the hour of its peak, but after a snow fall, you get all the deep hours of night.

Winter is coming. Stay up some nights when it snows. Bask in the glow of the night, let it completely envelop you, it is so ridiculously fantastic.

I would talk more about the birds. It does offer its own unique flavor. Unlike the glowing sky, hesitant chirping is reserved for dawn. While the glow of dawn bestows a sense of security in the form of a vague abstract presence of life, the chirping is much chummier. They feel like "good morning" texts or poking a friend at a sleepover to see if they're awake. You're starting the journey of the day with someone. It's the worst irony, then, that I am terrified of birds. Big fan of their chirping though.

I love these things. These inconsequential sights and sounds that just overwhelm you with feeling. There are more. Sitting in 106S during 7th hour in the fall or late spring, when giant beams of light stream in through those towering windows (well, not anymore). Listening to the radio with my dad on the way home from practice. LEGO videogames with my brothers. Look for these. They're great.



(I TALK ABOUT TRUMP IN THIS POST) Modern Postmodernism

This post isn't strictly about Libra, more about this course in general (but it'll tie back to Libra eventually probably somehow.) ...