Next Stop; Everywhere :: Or, One Girl's Incredibly Mushy Love Letter to 'Doctor Who'

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Let us - for now, at least - put aside the fact that the last time I posted about Doctor Who,  it was essentially a breakup letter outlining all my issues with problematic aspects of the show, and my painful decision to stop watching until a new Doctor (or better still, a new head writer/showrunner) takes over.

And then the 50th anniversary episode happened.

Don't get me wrong, my issues with the show's current writing still stand. I have an an entire alphabetical + annotated mental folder about everything that was problematic about the 50th anniversary episode, including that Mother of All Retconned Plot Arcs (for the record I'm just going to take a leaf out of the rebooted Star Trek's book and pretend that everything that happens in the Whoniverse from this point onwards will be taking place in an alternate timeline, because that is the only way I can make sense of things). And I still kind of want to whack Steven Moffat in the face with a frying pan, if the opportunity were to present itself.

But Sunday's The Day of the Doctor also gave me two things. Two sort of lovely things. Two moments of heart-swelling-throat-lumping-spine-chilling magic that I haven't experienced from Doctor Who in a long, long, long time.

One was the final shot of all twelve doctors gazing out into space, together.

The other was a ridiculously epic cameo appearance from the 12th and next Doctor, Peter Capaldi, which was pretty much nothing more than a 2-second shot of his eyes and forehead. Fandom proceeded to promptly and collectively lose its shit ohmygod. 

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In spite of the clusterfuck of hits and misses which constituted the rest of the anniversary special, I found myself genuinely enjoying Doctor Who for the first time in years. I even felt like a little of its old heart had found its way back, against all odds. And that's the annoying and completely wonderful thing about this weird little TV show that wormed its way into my heart 8 years ago and doesn't seem to want to let me go - I still love it to pieces, in spite of everything.

I was 15 when Doctor Who was first rebooted for a modern audience, and I was 16 when I tumbled headfirst into this odd world of spaceships that looked like phone boxes on the outside and quaintly horrible special effects. The first episode of the show I ever clapped eyes on was the final half of Doomsday, and I bawled. I cried like a fucking baby for fictional characters I had only met 20 minutes ago. And the only thing I could think of was where has this been, where has this show been my entire life? (on an incredibly extended hiatus from the 1980s, as it turns out).

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It was a little tough trying to get friends into the show as well, considering how the series was still trying to find its feet and establish itself in the modern canon. Also, just you try explaining the premise of the show to someone who has never heard of it ; a 900 year old humanoid alien who travels in an inter-dimensional spacecraft which happens to look like a blue police box (but is much bigger on the inside because SCIENCE FICTION) and who convinces people (usually young women - try to make that sound not creepy, go on) to join him on journeys across time and space.

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I can't tell you how much of my mid-to-late adolescence was spent on elaborate daydreams about running away with the Doctor to far away places and far away times (a lot of my adolescence, okay, a lot of it). How much I started falling in love with the Doctor's companions, because - and I've said this before - the show may have his name in the title, but it sure as hell isn't about him. This show is about the very ordinary people who discovered that they could do and be extraordinary things. The shopgirls and medical students and temp secretaries who bumped into a strange man with a magic wooden box full of forevers, a strange man who whirled them around galaxies and universes and helped them be the best versions of themselves they could possibly be. A strange, wonderful man who held humanity by the hand and showed us exactly how pitifully insignificant we really are in the grand scheme of things, but also how important we are, how powerful, how capable of love and courage and imagination and curiosity.





A very wise man once said that Doctor Who is "the triumph of intellect and romance over brute force and cynicism". And while the newer episodes may not reflect that for me personally, a little of the old magic does come trickling back now and then. I almost always come away from an episode of Who feeling a little warmer, a little fuller, a little richer, a little bit more in love with humanity, with friendship, with myself, with the spirit of discovery and adventure, with life, with the stars. With that ridiculous phone box-time machine-spaceship. With that strange wonderful man who keeps changing faces.

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Doctor Who is always going to be much more than just a TV show to me. And as bitterly disappointed as I have been with the last few seasons, and as much as I understand fans being ferociously angry with the revelations of the 50th anniversary episode, I can't help but feel impossibly excited about - finally - getting a new Doctor. I am pumped about Peter Capaldi's upcoming tenure as the 12th version of the Doctor ; the man managed to completely own his role in the span of roughly 3 seconds of screen time and 4 spoken words of dialogue, and I cannot wait to see what he does with a full episode.

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Minus the cussing, maybe.
Oh who am I kidding it's about time we get a Doctor who spews profanity across all of time and space.


p.s Also let's pretend that this isn't the first time I've posted in this dump since August or whatever. I didn't even bother starting off with an apology for my absence so let's just be cool, okay.

p.p.s You guys also have the lovely Lady Disdain to thank (or blame) for my return to the blogosphere. She used a highly effective combination of flattery and thinly veiled threats of violence which succeeded in spurring me into action. Minimal guilt, maximum results!

And I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore

I was an insufferable music snob from the age of 15 to about 19 or so. Discovering the world of indie music was wonderful and exciting and all sorts of amazing - and I wouldn't trade it for the world - but it also somehow warped my then-teenage brain into believing that I had somehow achieved a sort of moral high ground. As though my impeccable taste in sweet tunes had also somehow ensured that I was that much more cultured, evolved and generally so much better than everyone else who still listened to mainstream radio stations. I wasn't like other kids my age, man. I was different. I had the entire discography of The Smiths on my shiny new mp3 player. I was something else. I was edgy. I was deep, you guys.

I insisted on bringing my mp3 player nearly everywhere I went so that my friends would be able to allow The Strokes and Belle & Sebastian to wash over their poor good music-deprived souls. I would refuse to admit that anything on the radio was good, and if I had to go there, I'd always add that snootiest of all disclaimers: "It's good, for a mainstream song". Anything current on MTV was treated with contempt. I was above the mainstream. I had transcended the reach of the Lady Gagas and the Rihannas of the world. I had evolved into a higher being.


Looking back on that phase now with a mixture of horror and amusement, I wonder how I even got through a whole week without some sort of spiritual breakdown. Dealing with grades and friends and homework and hormones and self-esteem issues would have been difficult enough without the added pressure of constantly upholding a veneer of musical cool for everyone else's benefit. Because doing that is exhausting. It was physically and mentally draining to constantly care so hard and so obsessively about what the music section of my Myspace bio looked like to other people, and making sure I was never caught admitting that I sort of really liked that one Fergie song.

There are several good lessons I could impart at this point, kids. That your taste in music does not define your worth as a person. That listening to obscure post-punk pre-Britpop jazz dubstep retro hip-hop psych-folk bands does not make you better or smarter than the girl singing along to a Katy Perry single. That liking Maroon 5 "ironically" isn't really worth your time, either. Cut that shit out. You wanna sing along to Adam Levine's whiny ass vocals, you do that.

But most importantly, I just need to stress how exhausting my brand - or really any type - of music snobbery was. Music is beautiful and incredible and a huge part of my life but it is also, paradoxically, not all that fucking important. Not important enough to craft and maintain an entire personality around the things you definitely Do Not Listen To, Not Ever OMG. Like whatever it is that you like, whatever floods into your earholes and makes your heart happy. And perhaps most importantly, do not ever shit on other people for liking whatever it is they enjoy listening to.

edit: I feel like I should add that sharing music isn't something I would actively discourage. One of my favourite things to do in the whole world is recommending new music to people, typically through physical mixtapes or 8tracks. Discovering a really great song and letting someone else listen to it and then capslocking at each other about how much you both love it is great. A+, don't ever stop sharing good jams. But it also took me a while - years in fact - to deal with the very simple reality that not everyone is going to dig everything I like. The world doesn't end. The other person isn't a jerk. You can still be friends. Get over yourself. Rinse and repeat until you finally get it into your head.

I know some folks are calling this the new form of post-hipsterism, where music snobs relinquish their hold on ironically liking mainstream things and pretend to be into radio-friendly material in an effort to show how totally cool and secure they are in their musical identity. And you know what, screw that. I am tired. I am the world's oldest 23-year old and I am really tired of labeling and being labeled, and being told what my iTunes playlist says about me. Put whatever the bleeding hell you like on your playlists, friends, and let others do the same.

It is with this hard-earned enlightenment that I can now tell you that I have listened to this One Direction song so many times today that I am fully expecting to receive an email from Youtube asking me if I'm okay and if I need anything. There. And let me tell you that 17-year old me would have probably started crying at the prospect of having to admit this to anyone. Don't do that to yourselves. DON'T FIGHT THE LOVE, GUYS.

Tomorrow will mark the official end of my 8-week internship and hopefully the beginning of a return to regular, rambly blogging. I was basically right when I predicted that I would be far too exhausted to do anything much after work apart from ferociously reblogging Pacific Rim fan art on Tumblr for 15 minutes and then pushing my laptop away to read a book until I fell asleep. This full-time working-every-day adult thing is hard, you guys. And one of the most difficult things is dealing with the significant lack of any real down time when you're out the door by 7am every day and only come home 12 to 13 hours later. At this point I feel like I've already spent 80% of my life on trains and buses.

Still, I got the opportunity to do some pretty cool shit during my stint with Unnamed Magazine Company, including a round table interview with an NME award-winning indie band from Birmingham (more details on this soon!). But first, I will have to finish one last day of work, spend the weekend writing up a work report, and truly relish the idea of being able to sleep in for the next two weeks. Bliss.

I've also been drawing a great deal of strength and support from the tiny shirtless cut-out Charlie Hunnam my roommate plastered on our door a few weeks ago. Those sweet, sweet abs certainly got me through some pretty rough mornings. I owe you one, Charlie.

While I ease back into proper blogging and the idle pleasures of doing nothing all day if I damn well feel like it, you guys should definitely go get your hands on the new Typhoon album, White Lighter. It's pretty much THE MOST INCREDIBLE THING I have put into my ears so far in 2013. You all need these songs in your life, just trust me on this one. I can't even deal with how perfect this shit is.

"But He Looks Like A Girl!" : Some Badly Organized Thoughts on Mainstream K-pop Music & Masculinity

Oh hey. Here's something you probably thought you'd never see me writing about.

South Korean pop culture - K-pop music in particular - is a pretty huge deal in this country. By no means as dominant as North American pop culture (please do correct me if I'm wrong here) but pretty powerful and prevalent in its own right. I could round up at least 30 girls from my own high school classes who were all wildly into Super Junior back in the day. Hell, my second-year roommates at university spent most of their pre-bedtime hours curled up in blankets and giggling hysterically over something called Running Man playing on their laptop screens (I would later learn that Running Man was a variety/game show of sorts, featuring South Korean celebrities).

I've always been very much into South Korean horror movies and crime/thriller films, but it wasn't until a couple of months ago that I started paying more attention to Korean-medium channels on TV, which feature an absolute goldmine of everything hip and relevant relating to Korean pop culture. Music chart shows, popular dramas, reality tv, food and cooking programs, entertainment news bits. It started off with a mild interest in Masterchef Celebrity :Korea, before morphing into sugar rush-levels of addiction to Flower Boy Ramyun Shop, a romantic comedy-drama revolving around an awkward, hot-tempered 20-something woman, a love triangle and plenty of piping hot ramen (more on this show in the future).

But what really fascinated me was the show's titular concept of the "Flower Boy", or "beautiful boy", which is prevalent in South Korean mainstream music and dramas. One look at any male K-pop band selected at random, and it's already pretty obvious that these guys don't exactly conform to what would be typically considered the masculine "ideal".

They wear make up. They don seriously fancy, funky, fashionable clothes. They appear to have better skincare regimes than I do. Their magnificent hairstyles range from Justin Bieber-esque mops to gelled spikes to full heads of pink or green dye. They're often - but not always - clean-shaven, youthful-looking, and somewhat effeminate. And they are beautiful. They're gorgeous. Their brand of attractiveness isn't just acceptable, it's pretty much the desired ideal. They're slick and stylish, and often sport totally ripped bodies under all that designer garb. They look like a bunch of male models, straight out the pages of editorial spreads, who all just got bored one day and decided to become boy bands. This shit drives girls nuts, and I can speak from a lifetime of experience being friends with K-pop fans.

And then it happens. Someone you know, a friend or family member (in this case, my dad) decides to express an opinion that can remain unexpressed no longer ; "But why do you like this? All the men are so girly!".

I'll be honest ; the majority of the men in K-pop are not my Type, as they say. In fact, a friend once ran through a long list of South Korean male pop artists to see which ones appealed to me, and interestingly enough, it was the ones who wore the least makeup and had a generally less flashy and more conservative fashion sense. Think Siwon of Super Junior.

Now let's all sit back and take a few moments to look at Siwon of Super Junior.



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Another South Korean male celebrity who appeals to me tremendously is actor Lee Ki-woo. Again, minimal makeup and generally less "feminine" than what you would typically find in a K-pop boy (man? guy? dude?) band.



But why do I find Siwon and Ki-woo's brand of masculinity to be more "manly" and therefore more attractive? More "manly" than what? More "manly" than who? What am I comparing their masculinity to? What the hell is "manliness" anyway? Is there a secret manly scale somewhere that no one is telling me about?

But of course. The ideal brand of masculinity in North America and in mainstream Malaysian society for the most part is not what male K-pop idols are bringing to the table. Actually, I think it's the same reason a lot of guys I know dismiss Justin Bieber with little more than a "he's so gay". Music aside, Bieber's aesthetic is quite similar to that of a K-pop male idol. He is not what is typically accepted of a Real Man. And it becomes that much easier to denigrate him with "omg gay" (homophobia!) or "ew he's totally a secret lesbian" (homophobia and misogyny! we're on a roll here!). Just for the record, there are many legitimate reasons to dislike Justin Bieber. "Because he looks/sounds like a girl" is NOT one of those reasons. Cut that shit out.

I actually think the backlash or seemingly universal derision against things like Justin Bieber, One Direction or Twilight has a great deal to do with the fact that this stuff is marketed to and widely, passionately loved and consumed by that much-mocked of all sales demographics - the teenage girl. What could be worse than associating yourself with something girls (ewww) love? There's nothing less manly than liking a girl thing! For shame! That's so gay!

But I digress ; I may have adapted somewhat to mainstream South Korean pop cultural ideals of masculinity, but it doesn't mean I've rid myself entirely of a lifetime of cultural conditioning from my own society and upbringing. Where men have to look and sound and act and move a certain way in order to be men. I try to think of any time I have used the adjectives "handsome" or "rugged" to describe a male Korean celebrity. I've used "hot" quite a few times. "Pretty", "gorgeous", "beautiful". Maybe even thrown around "hotdamnfuckingshit" once or twice.



 It's also worth keeping in mind that these guys' images are curated and maintained with almost (and sometimes literal) surgical precision - how they dress and present themselves, presumably even what colour their hair can be. K-pop music is a manufactured, big-time business. Every aspect of their image is heavily stylized and heavily commercialized. It's also important to always remember that while K-pop idols are South Korean, not all South Koreans are K-pop idols (or anything else I see on Channel M). "Flower boy" is not the only kind of masculinity that exists in that country.

K-pop's limited success in its efforts to break into the United States' mainstream pop market has also been the focus on some serious analytical dissection ; this great essay on the Gangnam Style phenomenon pins this failure down to K-pop's atypical brand of masculinity as well as longstanding stereotypes in American society and media, which have historically desexualized Asian men (Asian guys have small penis joke, anyone? Anyone?) and relegated them to the roles of nerd, clown or martial artist. None of these categories ever portray Asian/Asian-American men as attractive or sexually desirable, which is pretty much the antithesis of what K-pop stands for. Attractive, powerful, sexually assertive and desirable Asian men. Girls want to get into these guys pants. And I totally understand that now.

I UNDERSTAND EVERYTHING NOW

South Korean mainstream pop culture in general (and K-pop music in particular) is definitely making me challenge my ideas of what I find masculine, and by extension also what I find masculine enough to  be deemed attractive. I really don't understand why or how - maybe because I know so many people who are into K-pop culture - but I have come to find this stuff genuinely fascinating, and apparently other people do too ; there are entire blogs, academic journal articles, and scholarly books dedicated to examining the embodiment of masculinities in Korean popular culture and the varying levels of acceptance it meets in different societies. I'd love to have more conversations about this with long-time and/or more knowledgeable Malaysian K-pop fans.

And in the meantime I'm going to catch up with some K-pop music videos. I don't find the music all that interesting - I suspect if I understood the lyrics it would sound even more generic than I already suspect it is. It's probably not going to find any room in my music library. But you know what? It's catchy as hell. The choreography and visuals are often incredibly well done. It's slick, stylish, highly entertaining and super addictive. And basically, I can't believe I've been missing out on all this super fresh radical bangin' synchronized hot boy dancing for so long. Also there's no way you're telling me this is worse than anything mainstream US pop is currently putting out.



p.s I realize I have entirely (intentionally) left out girl K-pop bands from this discussion. I'm definitely planning to take a look at girl bands and femininity in K-pop as soon as I've actually learned more and done enough research both online and on Channel M (much of which will involve my brother singing along to Girl's Generation, so there you have it).

p.p.s Also please do call me out if I have said anything remotely inaccurate or ignorant regarding South Korean culture or its mainstream music industry. I did my homework to the best of my abilities, but you never know.

Hey guys remember when I made all those promises to blog more regularly and to keep up with all your posts? Remember that? Yeah good times. Here are some bullet point life updates (minus the actual bullet points, because I can't get the formatting to work) to tide us all over while I attempt to regain some blogging mojo.


Finals are over. At this point, only one more 14-week semester separates me from Real Adulthood and...whatever it is I'm doing now eating cup noodles and watching Korean drama marathons.

On Monday, I begin an 8 week internship with a magazine publishing company. I hope it will be filled with good times and free stuff and that I won't fuck anything up beyond repair. This probably means I will be even more swamped/tired than I usually am during a regular semester, so we'll see how this blogging regularly thing goes.


My jam of the week is Thao Nguyen's We The Common. I love her so much, you guys. And no one told me she released a new album this year. I'm very disappointed in all of you.





On a more serious note,  I attended a support group for families of mental health patients last weekend. It probably says a lot about the visibility and acceptance levels of mental illness here that my mom and I did not even know that government hospitals organize these much-needed support group sessions (and Malaysians take note ; it's for free). Having an immediate family member diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia (a term I naively assumed would always be limited to Thomas Harris novels and true crime serial killer documentaries) has been a pretty terrifying, confusing and frustrating affair over the last 18 months or so. It's not just the struggle of dealing with medication and counselling and daily care while trying to function as normally as possible. It's the sheer weight of stigma and judgement from family members and friends who believe that what you're dealing with is an exaggeration, or somehow not real. That the person simply needs to "get over it" - take a walk, go back to work. Just snap out of it. Stop wallowing. What do you need medication for, anyway? It comes to a point where trying to explain and educate people about this particular brand of mental illness becomes an exhausting, frustrating, spirit-crushing exercise in futility. It's not a "real" illness, in the sense that we can't just whip out an X-ray or a brain scan and give people concrete evidence about exactly where and how and why someone's mind is sick. The many invisible ways in which they're just not okay. It's impossible to explain hallucinations and episodes of paranoia to people who either can't or won't accept mental illness as a legitimate health issue. To explain how your loved one simply isn't the same person they were just a year and a half ago, and that you don't know if they ever will be.

I'm not exactly sure where I wanted this to go, but here we are. I can't speak for everyone's experiences with every existing type of mental health issue, but I urge you to seek help in any way you can, in any way you think might work for you. The stigma is scary, the judgement can be actively discouraging. You may not receive support or even understanding from everyone you consider to be important in your life. But your health comes first, and help is out there. It can be paranoid schizophrenia, or you could just be over-stressed and feeling more than just a little bit down. But it is never, never, NEVER weird or wrong or weak or shameful to seek medical help or counselling. I just underlined that for EMPHASIS. Go for it. Get people who are on your side and ready to back you up - even if it's just one - and go get the help you need to get better, or understand what's happening with your mind. Your mental health is just as important as your physical health in every conceivable way. And if you do know someone going through a hard time with mental issues? You shut up, you listen, you support them in ways they feel comfortable with, you lay off the judgement. Don't tell them it's a phase. Don't tell them to get over it. Don't tell them they're overreacting. Don't try to shame them or make them feel guilty for the way they feel. Just. Don't. Maybe even read up and educate yourself a little about their condition. Because after a certain point it simply isn't their job or their obligation to explain their issues to you.


Talking about all that kind of bummed me out a little, so here is a gif of a corgi in a swing. LOOK AT THE LITTLE DOGGIE.

Jams For Your Ears : End of Semester Edition

Or if you'd like a much more specific and solid theme, "A Selection of Songs that are Currently Soundtracking My Desperate Attempts to Chase Various Deadlines while Constantly and Pathetically Being Distracted by GIFs of Chris Pine's Face, This Reddit Thread, as well as Long and Unnecessarily Convoluted Conversations With Myself about What to Eat for Dinner."

Jam out and procrastinate with me, you guys.






                            Don't Swallow The Cap // The National

                             Diane Young // Vampire Weekend

                             Sloom // Of Monsters and Men

                             Love Like This // Kodaline
                                   
                            Come Closer // Miles Kane

                            Thinkin' Bout You // Frank Ocean

Nothing Here is Vegetarian : Why You Should Be Watching NBC's "Hannibal"

This is Will Graham. Will Graham loves dogs, likes ugly plaid shirts and hates eye contact. Will Graham has an empathy disorder which allows him to fully assume and inhabit another person's point of view - in this case, those persons happen to be serial killers. Will Graham's ability to view a crime scene not just from the perspective of the murderer, but to view himself as the perpetrator, makes him an unconventionally brilliant FBI crime profiler.

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This is Hannibal Lecter. Hannibal Lecter likes classical music, fancy suits, and also eating people.

Together, Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter FIGHT CRIME!

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But not really.
Hannibal is far from your conventional crime drama or cop procedural. It is, in fact, better and more awesome in every conceivable way than anything I had been expecting. Based on Thomas Harris' novels, the first season of Hannibal is intended to be a prequel of sorts to Red Dragon, detailing how the esteemed Dr.Hannibal Lecter - still a practising psychiatrist (and professional people-eater) at this point - and Will Graham actually first meet, and begin working together on a series of increasingly disturbing serial murders. Here are some reasons why this show has managed to completely consume my life in under a week :
[content warning for mildly spoilery plot details and a couple of somewhat graphic images]

1. The two leads are the absolute pinnacle of perfect casting choices. 

Hugh Dancy as Will Graham in particular, is a burgerflipping revelation. His strange gift of being able to insert himself into the shoes of sociopaths and psychopaths understandably takes a toll on his psyche, and it is both heartbreaking and fascinating to watch this man falling apart all over the screen, trying desperately to hang on to his rapidly fraying sanity. Every facial expression and mannerism is loaded with pain and desperation and exhaustion. Even the way he walks is a reminder to us of the sheer magnitude of the weight on this man's shoulders. Will's antisocial tendencies are not - as is so typically portrayed in crime/detective shows - rooted in his inability to connect to other people or read social cues and norms. No - if anything, Will Graham connects too much. He allows other people's thoughts and fears and desires and perversions to take up residence in his noodle, and he does this on a regular basis for a living. Dude is super cute, but also fucked up in major ways. This is a haunted man on the verge of totally losing it at any minute (I kind of love Will, if you couldn't tell already, and I need an entire episode in which Will is given lots of hugs and cuddles, plenty of hot soup, and allowed to take a super long nap while someone sits next to him and runs their fingers through his hair.)

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What really cemented my conviction about how terrific Hugh Dancy is in this show can be seen in any one of the "Empathing" scenes, where Will Graham mentally reverses a crime scene and re-enacts the entire thing in his mind, placing himself in the role of the killer. And amazingly, inexplicably, it is as though there are two men sharing Hugh Dancy's face in those moments. You see Will Graham's facial expressions - fear and revulsion and disbelief at the things he sees himself doing - and you see Killer Of The Week's facial expressions. And you can actually tell the difference between the two. Hugh Dancy had better be getting like a million nominations when the next awards season comes round. And even if he doesn't, I'll find a way to let him know that he has already won ALL THE AWARDS in ALL the categories in the Awards Show of my heart.

Mads Mikkelsen is predictably fantastic. He has made the conscious decision to play Hannibal Lecter less along the lines of psychopath and more in the region of a fallen angel. He glides around his magnificent two-level office like Lucifer in a well-tailored three piece suit and impeccably-styled hair. King of his own Underworld. Where Anthony Hopkins was gleeful and camp, Mikkelsen is restrained and subtle, to the point where I sometimes almost forget he is even there. It's a menacing, bubbling-under-the-surface sort of evil, heightened by the dramatic irony of it all - most viewers (unless you've been hiding under a rock for the last 20 years) know that Hannibal is a crazy murderous eater of human flesh. But nobody in the show's universe knows. Not yet. And Hannibal plays them all like the bunch of puppets that they are. The guy is a master of manipulation and he focuses the greatest share of his sinister attention upon Will Graham,

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It says a lot about the strength of the character writing on this show that I find the scenes where Will and Hannibal interact in any way - most of the time this involves a lot of talking-  to be faaaaar more fascinating than all the grisly crime scenes the show can throw at me (and it's pretty grisly - we'll get to that in a while). The mind games, the poetic back-and-forths, the strange and twisted friendship brewing between these two men ; it's an absolute masterclass in character study and I can't get enough ohmyGOD.


2. Plot-wise? ALL BETS ARE OFF, YOU GUYS. 

You'd think that watching a TV series based on a set of novels and a handful of films that have been around for a couple of decades, featuring a titular character so iconic that everyone and their grandmother would be able to tell you "Yes, Hannibal probably killed that person, and he probably made crispy lemon liver pate out of them, too. Because everything is people", would simply be an exercise in predictability and going through the motions. Not so, friends. Not so.

Head writer and producer Bryan Fuller - he of Pushing Daisies and Wonderfalls genius - has latched upon a storytelling concoction whereby he pays homage to and sometimes even lifts entire scenes and set pieces from the books, but places them in completely different contexts in the TV show. So even if you think you have a pretty good idea of where a particular subplot or character is heading, having seen the films and read the stories, the show just drags the carpet from right under your feet and flips the entire playing board upside down. I thought I knew what was up, and now, by episode 7, I don't. The show is always going to be five to ten steps ahead of you. And I can't wait to see where it's going to take me over the next half of the season.


3. It's disgustingly gorgeous. 

Is elegant gore a thing? Because that's what Hannibal is doing. The show hardly ever indulges in actual onscreen violence, even during Will's Super Empathing sessions ; it prefers to leave you with disturbing but artistically-arranged corpses and the implication of what was actually done. And the effect is something that is terrifying at its core, yet you still can't look away. Even when you know that beautifully-plated serving of foie gras is very likely people meat.

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If you're easily squicked by blood and body horror, I'd recommend you either keep your distance from Hannibal, or at least sample the pilot episode to see how much of it you can actually stomach. A lot of the stuff on this show is pretty out there ; I was doing fairly well until a particularly graphic eye-gouging scene in episode 6 left me mentally flailing (SWEET HEAVEN THAT SCENE WAS NOT FUCKING NECESSARY OKAY, SHOW??).

Icky stuff aside - from a purely cinematographical (is that a word?) and aesthetic perspective, Hannibal is one of the most stunning television shows I have ever seen. The framing is remarkable, the  saturated colours are beautiful. I find myself not paying attention to dialogue sometimes because everything is just so freaking pretty. Even its most horrific images leave me going "Oh my god ugh ugh" and also "holy shit I love this shot".

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I LOVE this shot, you guys (and yes, that is what you think it is).

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There's something thoroughly dreamlike and surreal about the show's tone and atmosphere, and not in a nice way. But it's not exactly nightmarish, either. It evokes a sort of ominously nagging sense of something wrong that you just can't put your finger on. It strikes me as being a little Donnie Darko-ish, in the way the entire look and feel of the show reflects the state of mind of the protagonist. The deeper Will becomes embroiled in these investigations, the harder it becomes for him to get a good night's sleep. And his dreams start bleeding into reality until he's forced to admit that he can't even tell when he's awake. We're bombarded with ever more surreal imagery, as we try to sift through what's legit and what isn't. And yes, it's all beautifully done. Horrific? Yes. Sorrowful? Yes. But always, always, beautiful.

3.5 The violence on this show never feels gratuitous.

Your mileage may vary on this one. I can't exactly breeze through this post without bringing up the admittedly very graphic gore and violence on Hannibal. While I don't feel I'm very qualified to dissect what sort of impact onscreen violence has on real world violence, and what it says about our society and the way we consume our media, for what it's worth I can say this ; Hannibal does not torture porn-ify its violence. They are not sexualizing or fetishizing violence. There are exactly zero rape-y camera angles (hey Supernatural, how you doin') or gratuitously nude female corpses. The violence in Hannibal is intended to make you feel disturbed, and uncomfortable, and uneasy. It's meant to be dark and more than a little sick. And yet every crime scene is arranged with such visual artistry that you can't help taking just a smidgen of pleasure from the morbid aesthetic of it all. And you catch yourself in the moment of...actually enjoying the twisted yet elegant beauty of a body impaled on a set of deer's antlers, crucifixion-style?

And yet, for all the trouble the production crew goes through in making each crime scene look like a piece of art in its own right, we ultimately come back to Will Graham ; we see his disgust and fear as he mentally re-creates the murders, we see him losing sleep and sanity over the things he witnesses at his job. The murder scenes are undeniably aesthetically pleasing, but what sticks with Will - and therefore also with us -  is the brutality, cruelty and the weight of sorrow that lingers in the wake of such senseless deaths. For all its artistic presentation, violence isn't glorified on this show, and gore isn't something to be celebrated.


4. The amount of thought put into details is ridiculous.
I try to approach TV and films with the mindset that nothing is put onscreen by accident. If it's important enough to merit camera time - whether it's a fleeting facial expression or a piece of furniture  - it should mean something, or have some sort of purpose. If you like your television to be nuanced and layered, with symbolism falling out the wazoo, Hannibal will not disappoint. There's just imagery and foreshadowing and metaphors running wild everywhere. It's been a long time since I last came across a show that so richly rewards you for the patience of repeat viewings, analysis and dedicated attention to detail. It has come to the point where I'm pretty much ready to over-analyze anything (Hannibal's ties, Will's plaid shirt patterns). But it's all in good fun, even if some of the stuff I come up with really goes nowhere (Will's facial scruff is directly proportional to his level of sanity in any given episode! Or maybe not!). The visual element of this show is often just as important as dialogue and characterization when it comes to storytelling.

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5. Great lady characters!

They could use some more fleshing out at this point, but they're all terrific, even including the annoying as all hell tabloid reporter Freddie Lounds. They're all intelligent, dignified, snarky, great at their jobs and have amazing outifts. There's FBI lab tech Beverly Katz and her perma-smirk and her insistence on not treating poor tortured Will Graham like a ticking time-bomb. There's Dr. Alana Bloom and her take-no-shit from anyone attitude and great hair. There's the always fabulous Gina Torres, doing an absolutely kick-ass job as Bella Crawford.
And here's the real kicker ; several appearances (and hopefully more in the future) by GILLIAN ANDERSON as Hannibal Lecter's own psychiatrist.

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Bryan Fuller has had a great track record of writing women characters with their own emotional lives who are never purely accessories to the male protagonists, and he hasn't failed with Hannibal so far (in fact it's probably worth mentioning that Alana Bloom and Freddie Lounds were both Alan and Fred in the books, so a little gender-swapping in order to bring in more female characters certainly isn't beneath Mr. Fuller).


6. Dark humour.

Hannibal  is a very dark and very serious and very tragic show. That doesn't mean the writers are above trying to shove as many tasteless (ha!) cannibalism puns into every episode.

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Bryan Fuller is, after all, responsible for Pushing Daisies, a show which effortlessly combined pie-baking and waking the dead - the morbid and the whimsical - to make for one of the quirkiest and darkest shows I've ever watched. Hannibal would be probably be the wrong place to inject some Pushing Daisies style technicolour whimsy, but the somewhat sick sense of humour definitely works, and helps take the edge off a show that always risks taking itself too seriously.



But the show is far from perfect, of course. Will Graham's Super Empathy abilities sometimes veer off into seeming a little bit more psychic than detective, and his leaps of logic or intuition occasionally take a little more suspension of disbelief than I'm willing to provide. The same also applies to the weekly crimes ; some shit just doesn't work. But the cases tie in so seamlessly with the overarching themes of the show that I feel bad for picking nits about technicalities, especially when quite literally everything else about Hannibal is so goshdarned fantastic.

To paraphrase Will Graham, I've hitched my horse to this bandwagon for the long run. This show, you guys. THIS SHOW. It's a beautifully-shot and intelligently written examination of death, madness and the nature of evil. It's strange, gorgeous, dark and painful. It's also flawed, but when it's good, it's never just good ; it aims for - and sometimes reaches - profundity in ways very few other things I've watched can match up to.

So make some time in your weekly schedule to watch Hannibal, guys. Every time the show gets a new viewer, Hugh Dancy smiles. And when Hugh Dancy smiles, puppies are born and daisies burst forth from the ground and NBC decides not to be a bag of dicks and lets this show run for a second season.



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Special Agent Will Graham thanks you for your time.

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I spent the last couple of weeks wondering if I should pack up shop and move my nonsensical, inconsistent ramblings to a new blog, or a new blogging platform entirely. It would mark a fresh start of sorts ; I've been scribbling my scribbles here since I was 17 years old (and some you have been here since day one). I gave myself a proper attack of the nostalgias as I trawled through 6 years' worth of archived posts, and I physically cringed while reading every single entry. It's probably a good sign of change, growth and maturity when you're too dang embarrassed by the shit your teenage self spewed out - except for the Jake Gyllenhaal posts because I am never apologizing for those. You hear me, future employers?? Suck it. 

I believe part of the reason why I'm blogging even less frequently than before - apart from my profound laziness - is because blogging itself seems to be a dying art. Four or five years ago, this place was absolutely teeming with interesting, witty people and new posts going up every few hours or so. These days I can count the number of still-active and engaged bloggers on one hand. I don't resent them, far from it. Interests change, priorities shift, life goes on. Technology butts in and comes up with a few dozen different variations of microblogging platforms long before I can even figure out how to switch between multiple gmail accounts in the same tab. 

I've said before that I will keep blogging, and for the foreseeable future I will not be backing out of this statement. It just feels different now, knowing that there aren't as many people who are around to hear what I have to say - and yes, vanity does play a part, doesn't it? I can go around yakking as much as I like about how "I BLOG FOR MYSELF", but the reality is that I am acutely aware of the presence of an audience, even if it's just two people.



And blogging is that much more rewarding and validating when there's someone there to bear witness to your rambling. Otherwise it's just the digital equivalent of me talking to myself. In public. With no pants on. 

I've decided to make a more concerted effort to blog more regularly (HA how many times have we all heard that am I right) and keep in touch with the still-active folks here, and also reach out to make some new blogfriends. This place has been the single best avenue for me to articulate and channel my thoughts and feelings (thus mercifully sparing my loved ones from having to contend with my overflowing oceans of Feelings about Everything circa 2006 onwards) and I'm not ready to let go just yet.

p.s I'll be back in a couple of days with an exorbitantly long and enthusiastic post about my most recent and life-consuming TV addiction, Hannibal. Oh my god you guys, it is THE BEST THING EVER and I can't wait to share it all with you.

BAP Shamelessly Watches MTV's Teen Wolf (Or There Is No Such Thing As A Guilty Pleasure).

[warning : this post is LONG and also pretty heavy on the animated GIFs, so I really hope I don't end up breaking anyone's Internet. Also mild spoilers, I guess. ]

It's time for a long overdue confession, guys. Has that post title completely lowered your esteem of me and my otherwise impeccable taste in all things pop culture? I would think so. I spent the longest time refusing to admit my big, sloppy love for this show to anyone. And when I finally came clean I was met with gasps and many disbelieving capslock responses of "YOU WHAT?!!". But you know, I'm tired of having to play down my Teen Wolf love. Or justifying it with dismissive remarks like "Oh, it's just for fun, it was like a little juvenile holiday fling while waiting for the new season of [insert respectable critically-acclaimed TV show here] to start".  I love Teen Wolf. I LOVE it. And I'm not apologizing for it. And I am waaay excited for the season 3 premiere in June. THERE. Now we all know.

Teen Wolf is meant to be a remake of the Michael J. Fox film, but there aren't that many similarities apart from the title. This incarnation features Scott McCall as the awkward, bumbling high school sophomore who is bitten by a mysterious creature (werewolf!) in the woods one night while out looking for a dead body with his best friend (as we all do, no big deal) and must consequently deal with the problems that come with turning into a raging bloodthirsty fur monster once a month, along with more run-of-the-mill adolescent issues like girls and grades.

So allow me, with the use of a list and many pretty GIFs, to illustrate the reasons why Teen Wolf is not as terrible as you may think it is.

1. It's fun.



To be fair, my initial impression of Teen Wolf was not great. I went into this show anticipating horrible acting (but great hair, always great hair), bad dialogue, non-existent character development, and a ludicrous plot. I ended up finishing two seasons in a two-and-a-half day marathon. This show was like junk food to me, in the best way.  Look you guys ; this is MTV. It's not exactly classy shit, like Breaking Bad or whatever it is my smart and cultured young adult friends are watching these days. Actually, I wouldn't even put it on the same level as the first 4 seasons of Supernatural. Teen Wolf is often flawed and can be deeply problematic. But it makes up for it with tonnes of snappy dialogue, self-aware digs at its own expense, great pace and energy and more than enough juicy plotlines to keep things interesting (and keep me coming back for more). And above all, it's just plain FUN. Fun without being frivolous, light without being shallow, and it carries a surprising amount of depth without ever getting too bogged down in its own angst and melodrama. And self-awareness seems to be the key ; Teen Wolf knows it is probably not going to win any Emmys or be touted as a cultural touchstone of our generation 10 years from now. And it's totally fine with this reality. Which seems to give it more license to let down its hair, kick off its shoes, deprive all its male leads of their shirts, and just have a great time. Which leads us very nicely into -


2. The plot. 

So much plot, wow.

 

 LOOK AT ALL THE PLOT.



Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm plot. 



Have you ever seen this much plot in your life? Because I sure haven't.


3. No, but seriously. The plot and writing.

There exists a surprisingly compelling storyline; rich and remarkably consistent in-show werewolf mythology and season-long story arcs. The characters grow, change, reveal layers and facets that are unexpected and very intelligently written ; people you initially think will never evolve beyond the typical high-school stereotype roles assigned to them (bitchy over-achiever, arrogant jock) are shown to be so much more than their generic labels. The good guys aren't always nice, and the bad guys are never all evil. What's that? Why yes - complexity and shades of grey! On an MTV show! Featuring many actors who are all allergic to shirts! But truly, it's a wonderful thing to behold. Because when you have characters who are well-written, well-acted and believable, it's that much easier to invest in them and the journeys and relationships they undertake.

There is also an incredible amount of attention paid to details - from the significance of colours worn by various characters in any given episode to the use of one of the four natural elements as the defining motif for each season (water was the motif in question for season 2, fire for the first season). This sort of well-researched, geeky attachment to metaphors and symbolism and seasonal arcs on the show's behalf is more than enough to get the English major in me all weak in the knees. Teen Wolf knows what I like, you guys.


3.5 There are consequences.  Most shows set in high school, whether of the supernatural variety or not, eventually stop pretending that the characters or the viewers care about actually going to classes anymore. But the kids of the Teen Wolf universe have to deal with the fallout of poor attendance, slipping grades, failing tests, and not completing group lab work. Small details, but utterly refreshing by the fact that all this is actually acknowledged.


4. Stiles Stilinski

Stiles - real first name as yet unknown to us - very quickly made his way into my list of favourite TV characters ever. Played brilliantly by first-time actor Dylan O'Brien (who turned 21 last year so it makes me feel like less of a dirty old lady THANK GOD), Stiles is dorky, smart, and a walking grab-bag of deliciously snarky one-liners and pithy retorts. He's also perhaps the best goddamned thing about the show. Stiles bears the classic hallmarks of your Tortured character with a Dark Past - he is still grieving for his dead mother, he hides his fears and inadequacies behind a veneer of couldn't-care-less motor-mouth sarcasm and flippant humour, and is protective of his (very selected few) loved ones to a horrifyingly selfish and ruthless degree. And I can't tell you how much I love this subversion of what could have been a very straightforward geeky guy-comic relief-sidekick character. There is a darkness and a certain ruthless quality to Stiles that contrasts wonderfully with our protagonist Scott's more open and idealistic hero type. I love it. I love this character, and I love every tone and nuance and gesture and expression through which Dylan O'Brien (may he be blessed with many many lead roles in his career amen) chooses to convey everything that is mysterious and layered and complex and unconventional about this kid. I love it. One of you should give me a call and we'll go out for bubble tea and talk about how much I love Stiles.

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 Because I love Stiles

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A lot.

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5. Everyone else.



It helps that the teenagers are played by actual teenagers, or at the very least people in their very early 20s, so it makes their appallingly attractive faces more bearable.This is also a beautiful cast with some genuine acting chops, and they're also adorable and lovely in real life, which is always a plus point for me. Tyler Posey in particular, strikes me as being the human incarnation of golden retriever puppies and sunbeams.

6. Awesome TV parents!

TV parents usually annoy me to no end, but the ones in this show are well-fleshed out and involved in their kids' lives, not just props to come in once in a while and administer some Generic TV Parenting before conveniently disappearing again. There are positive portrayals of single parent families, and frighteningly realistic depictions of abusive families, and just wonderful relationship dynamics all around. Thumbs up, Teen Wolf. Thumbs waaay up.

7. Bad ass girls!



Allison Argent, born into a werewolf-hunting family (naturally) wields a crossbow like no other, and Lydia Martin flings around algebraic equations and knowledge of arcane languages that defies her status as all-round popular/mean girl. Erica, who suffers from epilepsy and is made a social outcast in school, finds her own means of physical and sexual empowerment.



Jeff Davis, the creator, needs to revise his statement that his show takes place in a world where homophobia, racism and sexism effectively do not exist ; an admirable sentiment, but problematic considering his own less than perfect treatment of women, gay characters and characters of colour. There are elements of tokenism, queerbaiting and other such infuriating things, but as far as the girls go,  this is a hell of a great place to start. Neither Lydia, Allison nor Erica are reduced to pretty faces, love interests or plot devices.Now all they need is as much screen time and development as the boys are getting. And maybe some friendships of their own? I am a sucker for a good, mushy bromance as much as the next person, but sometimes I just really want to see two girls love each other's company and have each other's backs too.

8. Derek Hale : Tall, Dark and Grumpy. 

Our protagonist, Scott, and his best friend Stiles, are both adorably sunny and dorky, so it's only fair that we have a much moodier character to balance it all out. Enter Derek Hale, professional werewolf and expert Mysterious Brooder In The Shadows. Derek enjoys brooding, lurking, creeping around, skulking, not smiling, being morally ambiguous and also brooding. Sometimes, he even broods. Oh and there was that other time he did some brooding for a while. Did I mention brooding? Brooding. Lots of that.



Now that is just precious.

Also I won't wave aside the very obvious fact that the guy is fine as hell, even when he's technically faking a flirty smile (only one of his many weapons of mass distraction) in this scene.

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Derek is yet another character who takes a leaf out of the Good But Not Nice trope page (for now, anyway). Despite his tragic backstory and seeming unwillingness to actually be Evil when called for, his motives typically remain suspect, and his penchant for keeping everything about himself in the dark (including his beautiful beautiful face) do not make him the most open or trustworthy person in town. But this is only because he is in PAIN and drowning in oceans upon oceans of guilt and trauma and repressed emotions and self-loathing, and he needs a good session of therapy and lots of hugs to help him feel healthy Feelings and put him on the road to healing and believing that he is worthy of love and friendship. I love the damaged ones, can you tell? Especially when they come fitted out with leather jackets and pensive, brooding pectoral muscles.

Poor Derek. Take your shirt off and let me love you.



9. It is legitimately creepy when it wants to be. This is no Twilight-lite. The body count in the pilot episode alone is mighty impressive. What's even more impressive is its ability to build and sustain genuine suspense and tension ; the everyone-gets-trapped-in-the-school-at-night episode was probably one of the creepiest + most nail-biting 40 minutes of TV I've watched in a while.



10. My mother's seal of approval. My mom has great taste in everything, and is also very hard to please, and shows no mercy in her judgement of a TV show or movie. I often use her reactions as a gauge for how good or horrible a thing is. For instance, if she actually gives up her daily, sacred afternoon nap to finish watching something, that thing has now received the seal of my mother's eternal approval. So guess who joined me in that two-and-a-half day Teen Wolf marathon (and kept asking me if Stiles was going to be okay)? That's right, my friends. That's right.

At best, Teen Wolf is a lot smarter, funnier, creepier and better-written than it should be, and contains a lot more emotional and intellectual depth and complexity than I would have ever given it credit for. I am delightfully and pleasantly surprised by everything it has done so far, and I am actually super excited to see how it grows and (hopefully) improves from here on out. And even if the show itself does absolutely nothing for you, you are more than welcome to come sit on the couch with me and keep count of exactly how many times Derek Hale broods his way onscreen with no shirt on. Surely no one can be opposed to that. 

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All the panties. Out the window.