November / December Review Recap

Reading was not a priority for me at the end of 2014. I wrote a number of short reviews elsewhere but I don't find them helpful from others so I'm not going to bother to link them here.

A Holiday Playlist

The Trouble With Tokens

The Sweetest Thing by Deborah Fletcher Mello

Festive In Death by J.D. Robb

All I Want Is Everything by Daaimah S. Poole

The Duke's Guide to Correct Behavior by Megan Frampton

Widow Basquiat by Jennifer Clement

Big Hero 6

Exploring Transphobia: The Meoskop Edition

I'm transphobic. I'm absolutely fine with genderqueer and non binary, but then my biases kick in. As a strong believer in the examined life I'm not one for hiding the less attractive aspects of my psyche from view. On the whole, however, I don't speak much on the topic. I recognize that the existence of the individual is not the problem, transphobia is. So when @FangirlJeanne showed me Thiago Antonucci's #genero #gender collection I found it very thought provoking. Before I go any further with this post I want to make something extremely clear. I am not speaking for anyone but myself. Nothing I say in this post in any way represents the beliefs of Love In The Margins. This is not an invitation to hate speech. Comments (if any) should remain centered on transphobia and transphobic thinking. Parts of this may be painful to the reader. I invite you to consider that possibility and leave the post unread if necessary.

Antonucci's collection resonated with me. It explores how we use visual cues to classify an individual's gender. By selecting conventionally attractive, primarily light skinned, able and attractive models Antonucci doesn't ask the viewer to do more than the minimum, which may or may not be his intent. When an individual is nude, I have no reaction to conflicting non-verbal signals of gender. Stripped from social presentation, I no longer have a negative reaction to a gender designation that conflicts with one assigned by chromosomes. I have never shared the common transphobic obsession with genitals. If someone is or is not surgically altered is almost irrelevant to me. (I say almost for reasons I will address later.) My personal transphobia appears to arise not from the actual physical body of a person but from their social representation.

Part of my feminism has been rejecting narrow definitions of gender presentation. While I am not able to present as androgynous, I support androgyny, as well as a person self representing anywhere on the continuum from femme to butch that they wish, male or female. As a child of the 60's, I'm from the Free to Be (You And Me) generation, complete with tomboys and glam rock. Watching children's toys divided into "His" and "Hers" has been demoralizing at best. I've seen how gender constraints negatively affect not only myself, but also my children. If asked to participate in the freedom of every individual to visually present themselves in any manner they wish, my support is instant and deep. So why does the pronoun / birth certificate step form an impenetrable hurdle? Transphobia.

As a young girl I read Tanith Lee's Biting The Sun and strongly identified with the protagonist. (Don't believe the link, it's not the first time the novellas have been combined.) The quest to rectify the emptiness of their self results in the protagonist abandoning their culture entirely, recognizing the whole society is toxic. I have never felt misgendered. I am not my body, I am myself. Living an authentic life means wearing the style of clothing I choose to. It means applying or not applying cosmetic enhancements as I find pleasing. It means being able to pursue the interests and professions I desire. I want to have those freedoms and I want everyone else to have them as well. I want long haired men and short haired women and everything in-between. Guyliner, eyeliner, soap and nothing else, all of it works. People should be free to use their birth names, a chosen name, or a combination of both. The self should be represented in whatever manner feels authentic.

A large component of my transphobia is believing that MTF is represented as wearing cosmetics and dresses and nylons and heels and well maintained nails. FTM is suddenly in flannel and growing a beard and weightlifting. If you are these things, then you are this gender. If you are this gender then you are these things. This is a woman. This is a man. I unconditionally reject that. A friend of a friend self identifies as lesbian because her husband identifies as MTF. I find this completely irrational. A person biologically identified as female in a relationship with another person biologically identified as male is heterosexual (or bisexual, of course). I find myself unable to make the leap from self-identification erasing traditional gay identity into it expanding and supporting broader queer identities. Being able to change the gender designation on a birth certificates renders biological gender determination meaningless. Biological gender is not so easily cast aside. Which brings us to the cisgender obsession with surgery.

I oppose most cosmetic surgery. I'm not suggesting we outlaw it. People are free to make medical choices for themselves.  I regret the deaths of individuals like Donda West in the pursuit of personal satisfaction with their body. I feel our narrow standards of beauty and gender presentation contribute to deaths and damages the health many. There are situations where cosmetic surgery is necessary or desirable. There are situations where it's harmful. I see narrow representations of gender as contributing to societal pressures to conform to specific presentation. In the case of gender reassignment, there are additional health risks. Having survived hormone related cancer twice, I can't support life long hormone therapy as appropriate. Having had life extending surgeries that have increased my risk of bone fractures and heart disease while removing my ability to achieve orgasm, I don't support similar elective surgery. My transphobia is also rooted in society profiting from the quest of the individual to actualize their external expression of self through surgical means. Parents offering puberty suppressing medication or pre-puberty surgeries to their children seems as abusive to me as not doing so seems to a non-transphobic person. To support gender reassignment surgery seems like an endorsement of violence. 

I don't know what the answer is. I can acknowledge my transphobia. I can continue to explore and have discussions or remain silent where appropriate. I can continue to support the rights of everyone to self express as they are comfortable. I can't, at this time, eradicate my transphobia. I can't reassign the personal meaning of lesbian or gay or male or female outside of their conventional use. I am unlikely to personally identify as cisgendered or adopt neutral pronouns like Ze, Zir and Hir. I can continue to support the right of the individual in front of me to self identify themselves and their gender without conflict from me, an uninvolved third party. I wish we had a different system of gender classification. I wish the societal pressure for narrow expression was eradicated, making the lines between biological imperative and externally applied pressures clearer. I want all of our kids to feel confident in their bodies without fear, without surgical alteration, be it their nose, their breasts, their weight, or their labias. I thank @FanGirlJeanne and Thiago Antonucci for pushing me to continue examination of my transphobia, even as I apologize to those who my words may harm.

tl;dr - I'm totally transphobic but my issues are mine and I try not to make them yours.

Review: Tokidoki Spring 2014

I have a love / love relationship with tokidoki. There's no hate in my heart. If I lived in an area that actually sold their product it would be difficult not to have a different handbag for every day of the week. As it is, I'm limited to what I can reasonably mail order or convince a friend to pick up in person. (tokidoki mail order has been very good to me - I'm also known at Ju Ju Be and The Giant Peach.) 

The Spring 2014 line has some interesting and not entirely welcome changes. While I absolutely love the prints (a big improvement from Winter 2013 but not as stunning as 2013's Portrait) the bag selection has been narrowed. Many styles have removed their interior zipper pockets, replacing them with sewn in card rows. Making that an even more questionable choice, some of the same bags don't zip at all. (So I am going to move my ID and credit cards from my wallet to unsecured slots in an unsecured bag? Someone at tokidoki lives a very different life than I do!) The shoulder drop feels tighter and the zippers a little tighter. The good news is that the lining problems of Winter 2013 appear to have been resolved. 

The photo to the left shows two bags from the City print and one from Vintage America. Vintage America is adorable, and will likely sell out first. Elvis, Route 66, Jukeboxes, everything that makes you say Baby Boomer Nostalgia is redesigned into a more modern presentation. This hobo could use a slightly longer strap, but it's workable. This is the bag I most missed a zip closure on - with it's tendency to drift around the back it would be too easy for an item to wander off. It's not a great public transit option but it's too cute not to own. 

The taller Shopper is going back. The handles have a nice feel but shopper tote needs a shoulder option and this one won't stay put. Great depth can't make up for a snap top and an inability to sling it out of your way. On the other hand, the Bowling bag is a solid win. This comes in Vintage America as well and might be the best bag on offer. Spring 2014 is much larger than previous Bowlers (which could be a negative, depending on your needs). Featuring a deeper exterior zip pocket, a top zip and an interior zip, this offers more security than the other bags. I can carry this anywhere I go without having to make sure it's not going to attract grabby hands. If I knock it off my desk, I won't be picking my lip gloss out from under my coworkers feet. The Bowler is a solid win and the City print really invokes NYC. In a good way. Unfortunately the Spring 2014 collection doesn't include any cosmetic bags or small cases for electronics. I mix and match my tokidoki items so it's not a deal breaker, but I did miss certain small sizes I'd have picked up in this print run. 

I've also been very pleased with the collaboration between Ju Ju Be and tokidoki. While most of the Ju Ju Be product is geared toward the baby crowd, there are pieces that suit those of us past the diaper zone as well. Pictured on the right are three bags in the Animalini print. Ju Ju Be is less expensive than the main tokidoki line, but also less durable. After about 6 months of kid use a Fuel Cell lunchbox gives up and quits. I love the careful thought they've put into strap lengths, pockets and zippers. I also love being able to throw them in the washing machine after the beach or gym.  

Review: Frozen directed by Chris Buck and Jennifer Lee

Oh, hey, Frozen, you sure are super, super white! What's that you say? It's the setting? They're pseudo-Scandinavian? Oh. Ok. Except no. I finally get a female focused Disney film that doesn't end in a wedding and what do I do? I ask for more. Why shouldn't I? This is a film for all of our children set in a fantasy kingdom where dignitaries from far away lands arrive to witness a queen's coronation. Why are only some of our children represented? Whatever. Let's move on.

There's a lot to like about Frozen. While I'm not a fan of the musical interludes, I know Disney makes serious money on their soundtrack hustle. There was nothing objectionable here. The instrumental tracks felt stronger than the vocal ones, although I heard kids singing the vocals as we left the theater. Visually the film is beautiful, with some of their best character conception in decades. A Ghibli influence was noticeable in the troll scenes, but not in an intrusive manner. Anna and her sister Elsa were distinct characters with different goals. Having been overprotected by helicopter parents (quickly dispatched), both are ready to face the world. Elsa greets the end of her invisible guardianship with fearful trepidation. Anna greets it with an overenthusiastic need for love and companionship. Both are logical outcomes of their situation.

Snow White, plus size Princess

It's interesting that in a film about fearing female power the filmmakers seem afraid to fully unleash the sisters. While there are villains to overcome and boys to consider and adorable sidekicks to meet (more Olaf, please) overall there isn't quite enough between them. Anna is perhaps too forgiving and understanding. Elsa is perhaps too self sacrificing. While Anna dominates the screen it's Elsa we want to spend more time with. Anna's conventionally quirky exuberance is familiar. She's a bit manic and a lot pixie. Her self confidence and loyalty are engaging, it's true. Elsa is a less common female lead. A reluctant queen afraid to indulge her own emotions, Elsa is a study in externally imposed self containment. The true message of Frozen is ultimately not of sisterhood, but of society's Good Girl imperative.

Elsa breaks out in Diva

When Elsa breaks free of her kingdom to live in splendid isolation she transforms. Joy lights her face, freedom infuses her body, and suddenly she gets a makeover. A free Elsa is an MTV Music Awards Elsa. She spins about and transforms from a beautiful woman into a white, ass-free Beyonce. As a viewer, I think WTF? Meanwhile, Anna is aged by her familial disappointment, a disappointment only more family interaction can heal. (It's a fantasy piece.) Anna is urged to see that everyone is imperfect and only though accepting our flaws can we stand together. Which is an odd message, considering the characters Anna sees as flawed are simply different than her. Add in a lovely piece about the joys of infidelity and Frozen is rolling toward the finale. Elsa sees that shutting the world out can't stop her from hurting them, but embracing it will. Anna takes her beer goggles off and her intrepid guide Kristoff continues to spend questionable quality time with his beloved reindeer.

Fantasia's Thinspiration Fairies

Frozen is a step in the right direction for Disney animation, but I left the film thinking they still have room for improvement. I definitely recommend seeing Frozen in the theater, but I can't unthinkingly swoon. I'd put Frozen near the top of the Princess films, however. This is better than Beauty & The Beast or The Little Mermaid, even if the stakes are far lower. We needed to spend less time tromping through the snow or eavesdropping on the various villains and more time exploring the women at Frozen's heart. This is the rare Disney film that leaves you wanting more than you had and probably asks for a repeat viewing.

Review: Get A Horse directed by Lauren MacMullen

Get A Horse is brilliant. Certainly it's not immune to criticism, but the brilliance part is unquestionable. Lauren MacMullen has not only made history as the first woman to solely direct a Disney short, she's also made an important statement about Disney's past and future. This is a love letter to Walt Disney that includes his imperfections.

As a huge fan of Ub Iwerks, the oft overlooked co-creator of Mickey Mouse, I was torn between trepidation and elation when his distinctive style came on screen. Get A Horse has been criticized for it's violence, it's sexism and it's decision to speak more to the adults in the audience than the children. I say way to miss the point. Early Disney shorts were sexist, violent and often racist. To sanitize those elements out of the narrative is to further whitewash history.

By placing the sexualization of Minnie Mouse so blatantly in the center of Get A Horse MacMullen offers the viewer the opportunity to reject it. Minnie's giggling and helpless compliance in her objectification is character consistent. Highlighting Peg Leg's lack of interest in the less attractive (and therefore less valued) Clarabelle Cow shows the dynamic played out in most of the early shorts. Peg Leg Pete is not the misunderstood suitor, he is the rich date rapist. Clarabelle Cow is not a random neighbor, she is the "old maid" who refuses to be pushed out of the party. Clarabelle wants what the smaller, slender Minnie has - male admiration. Minnie's cries for help indicate her higher status. Minnie expects help to be offered and accepts danger as a cost of her privileges. Clarabelle has to elbow her way into the scene, she is only pushed forward if she can absorb a threat for Minnie.

1928's Gallopin Gaucho 

Mickey is scrubbed of the halo that Walt himself despised and returned to his more complex roots. Where modern Mickey wants to be friends, archival Mickey wants a punishing win. And a punishing win is what he has as Pete is subjected to increasingly violent retributions before being removed from Toontown completely. MacMullen deftly plays the old sight gags against modern equivalents to keep the action between now and then going. From Horace's cell phone to timeless gravity gags, Get A Horse offers enough quick cuts to keep the youngest viewer quiet. You don't need to unpack all the slapstick references to enjoy the cartoon. As a viewer well versed in early Disney and slapstick conventions I was enthralled.

Ultimately Walt's Mickey (and this is truly Walt's Mickey down to archival voicing) resumes his place in a newly colorized Toontown. He has no need to walk completely in the modern world. Having ejected Pete, Mickey and his friends plug the hole to resume their idyllic life. In the corner of the final scenes Oswald The Lucky Rabbit pops up to wave. As a cartoon short, Get A Horse was enjoyable. As a tribute to Ub and Walt, it was magical.

Love Is Lost (Hello Steve Reich Mix) by James Murphy

Since we launched Love In The Margins I've been ignoring you shamelessly. It's the nature of the new, I'm afraid. When I saw this, the best of Bowie's recent videos, I had to come back. Bowie is claiming production costs ran 13 bucks. I'm assuming he paid the crew a bit more than that. Either way it's still an exceptional piece. Bowie's using the projection technique of his Where Are We Now video to create an aged version of his deceptively youthful physical self. It lends him a vulnerable frailty that he may (or may not) feel despite our perception of him as ageless.

Our setting is ambiguous. Backstage at a show? In hospital? A well appointed storage section of the office? There is a physical Bowie, a projected Bowie, a puppet Bowie (or two or three) and our own experience of Bowie blended into the work. Instantly recognizable aspects of his career are set into conflict (or collusion?) while the physical Bowie observes at a remove. Like all of Bowie's best work, the images lend themselves to multiple interpretations.

Someone is dying. Is the aged Pierrot the fearful witness or the diabolical ringleader? The juxtaposition of wooden and human hands against each other offer eerie suggestions of who the perpetrator is. Have they killed the physical Bowie or has he simply abandoned them yet again? The king of reinvention discarding these more recent personas the way he closed the door on The Man Who Sold The World and Aladdin Sane? Or is the physical Bowie musing on what these reinventions have cost him through the years? Has he divided himself beyond recognition until he is trapped and wrestling with the cost?

The final scene is meant to disturb but not to define. Has physical Bowie simply walked away from them, and therefore from us? Is The Next Day the final chapter in a decades long dance of imagery? Has Bowie washed his hands of us all?

Review: From Up On Poppy Hill by Studio Ghibli

*Lately I hate all the books. Every blessed one of them. So let's continue our unofficial look at animated women.

From Up On Poppy Hill gets a solid B from me for overall movie quality. I wanted something with the savage weight of Grave of The Fireflies. That's hardly a fair standard. From Up On Poppy Hill raised those expectations because it is set in 1964. The first generation of post war children are coming into their adulthood and everything is changing. Japan is hosting the Olympics. Construction continues at a booming pace. The post-war life is being replaced by a modern Japan. This is pretty huge stuff.

Before we start spoiling everything let me say that the film is beautiful. Studio Ghibli occasionally skimps in the art department. Not here. From Up On Poppy Hill requires multiple viewings from an art standpoint. Characterization is tight and varied. Some of Miyazaki's most beloved stereotypes are left out and the film is stronger for it. The characters feel more modern, even as they also feel true to the time period. The storyline is slight and pulls some emotional punches it really should have landed. This could be cultural. One problem with a film so heavily weighted in a specific time and place is not understanding what the audience may have brought to the viewing. I have no baggage about 1964 Japan, no oral history, no lived experience. There may be resonance I am unequipped to feel.

On to the spoilers. 

From Up On Poppy Hill may be the most feminist work Studio Ghibli has put out. Despite their long tradition of strong female characters this one is the one I would put in front. It's heroine, Umi, is unaware of her own power. She is holding her family together, holding her community together and ultimately holds her school together. She is referred to as a lucky charm or a hard worker, but she herself simply wakes up and handles her life. Umi and her younger siblings live with their grandmother while Umi's mother does a work-study in America. Due to events offscreen Umi has taken in boarders, for whom she cooks and cleans. Umi is also a top student at school with an eye toward the sciences. Every morning Umi sends a message, via signal flag, to the boats in the harbor. Every morning one boy on one boat answers, but she never sees it.

Shun, the boy, is the eventual love interest for Umi. There is a ridiculously melodramatic plot twist where they believe they are siblings. Returning to a friendship, Umi and Shun work together to save a historic building. Where Umi's female centric life is quiet and orderly, Shun's male centric building is chaotic, noisy and filthy. It's Umi's quiet wisdom and work ethic that lead the men to understand victory isn't always gained through making the most noise. This isn't done in a gender conventional way. It's not Umi's pious example against their chagrined response. There is a problem. Umi considers practical solutions and the both genders work toward the goal together. Eventually Umi's mother returns. The mystery of Shun's parentage lies in post war confusion and the need for infants to be properly registered. Shun is the son of deceased friends. Umi's father adopted him but Umi's mother refused to abandon medical school. Shun was placed with another couple they knew.

Let's stop here for a moment. Umi's mother is never shamed for her choices as she would be in a western film. She is presented as a good and responsible citizen. She marries a man of limited future for love. She puts her education above the parental yoke on numerous occasions, even rejecting a child. Umi's mother is a radically feminist presentation of a mother. She has raised a child capable of complex responsibilities. She makes no apologies for her choices. Umi's mother is living her life on her own terms with the full support of her family. But back to our lovers.

Umi, despite idolizing her father, isn't quick to believe this Not My Kid tale her dad laid out on mom. It's 1964 so a DNA test is out of the question. Besides, Shun looks enough like her father that she thinks mom was sold a serious bill of goods. The romance is totally off. Eventually Shun discovers a character witness for all three dead parents and life goes on. Hard work wins the day and happily ever after is assumed by the credits. Despite the slight and familiar tale, From Up On Poppy Hill is mandatory viewing. All the women involved are working, in school, or property owners. There is a purpose to each one's life. Except for Umi's magical hair, the women are portrayed in the same manner as the men.  After the shambles that was Tales of Earthsea I had real concerns for a post Miyazaki Studio Ghibli. While I mourn his upcoming retirement, I am very interested to see where they take us next.

We Can't Have Nice Things: General Hospital Edition

Much like romance the daytime drama (soap) genre frustrates the hell out of me. I'm an ABC girl, so my shows of choice have always been All My Children and General Hospital. I drop in, I get mad, I drop out. General Hospital recently (in soap years) changed leadership. The prior team often seemed to hate women. Women were props for men, things to be shot or raped or put in peril so the men could have feelings about it. They were slut shamed, marginalized, institutionalized. Women were impetuous creatures who failed to think ahead and men were awesome sauce. The new show runners seemed far less hostile to women (although still deeply problematic). It was too good to be true.

GH & I are on a break because they are retconning a serial killer rapist who terrorizes women without being named Jerry Jacks. (Sebastian Roché or it doesn't count, people.) I didn't like Franco before and (although I love Roger Howarth) I don't want Franco now. This brings us to today and me slogging through my DVR backlog. The clip below is a pivotal day in two characters history. This scene is building on decades of ground work. It is comprised of a guest appearance by one of GH's most beloved actresses (Genie Francis, of course.) and a very popular recast. I'm going to sum up what you need to know about these women and where the episode of 6/10/13 finds them.

Lulu is the young married daughter of the famous Luke and Laura. In 1981, shortly after Luke and Laura's first wedding, Laura disappeared from Luke's life. She was abducted by Stavros Cassadine who forced her to bigamously marry him. Held captive by Stavros and his mother Helena, her family  believed her dead. Upon her return to the show several years later Laura largely refused to speak of the ordeal. In 1996, when Lulu needed a medical miracle (This is a soap!) it was revealed that Laura had given birth during her captivity. While the son saved Lulu's life, his existence destroyed the Spencer family. Rejected by her father, her mother mentally ill, Lulu becomes a cynical careerist.

In 2013 Lulu is awaiting the birth of her daughter (via surrogate) when she is kidnapped by the still deranged Stavros. Laura and Luke reunite to rescue her. When they confront Stavros Laura is visibly terrified. She offers to return to her position as his wife in exchange for her daughter's freedom. Stavros isn't interested. Laura is too old for him, too damaged by time and life. Stavros has switched his obsession to her daughter. Luke, Laura and Lulu's husband Dante kill Stavros and Helena to rescue Lulu. The next few months are occupied by an amnesia storyline as Lulu represses the knowledge that she too has been forced into a bigamous marriage with Stavros. On 6/10/13 Lulu has recovered. Mother and daughter are meeting for the first time with the decades of damage Stavros did to them in the open. Roll tape.

If you're like me you just said WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK? I mean, is there any other response? Are these female characters or man-pain hand puppets? Genie is reading lines like she can't believe the pages. "Hey baby, you've had a total mental breakdown and while I was on my honeymoon you remembered a nightmare experience I am uniquely qualified to understand. But forget that, let's gush about your poor husband! It must have been so difficult for him to deal with you being terrorized. Really, how did he stand a few months without your adoration? Let's cook a meal!" No. Seriously. WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK?

"Here honey, I got you candy and a baby present. Let me reduce your life to these traditional gender roles while ignoring this massive generational storyline payout. Why don't you talk about what a failure you are for not being a chef while gushing on about Dante's hangnail? Really. It's fascinating. Tell me more." Genie's busy getting paid. (Genie, I adore you. I know what you could've done with a real script here. We'd all be crying on the floor while you put your baby girl back together and helped her redefine her childhood in the face of this new firsthand knowledge of your trauma. There wouldn't be enough Kleenex in the world. People would be sobbing on those scenes into 2035.) It's like there's a giant water cooler at GH labeled We Hatez Wimmin and every writing team must eventually drink from it.

I'm going to go watch  Lucy break down over BJ's 1994 death and remember the good times. BJ is a kid in a school bus accident. Her cousin Maxie (Lulu's eventual surrogate) is dying. Tony is BJ's father, Bobbie her mother. Lucy was her stepmother for a time. This was one of GH's golden ages, where real human relationships mattered and women were actual people. (Ok, Maxie's mom was a pouty white Aztec Princess but we try not to think about that.)

Review: Valentine's Day by David Bowie

As much as I enjoyed The Next Day it wasn't until I heard Where Are We Now playing in a shop in Essen that I understood how little of the album I'd considered. On my iPod, Where Are We Now was a pleasant tune with a nice tinge of nostalgia. In Germany, it was suddenly heartbreaking. "Fingers are crossed, just in case" plays differently when the the person in front of you might be East German. I walked out to a bench, thinking about that moment. What was it like, to be the East Germans when the wall fell? Walking freely into West Germany, was it surreal? Frightening? Welcome? A relief? A burden? An East German is currently the face of Germany, but the wealth divide between Ossi and Wessi remains.

The video for Valentine's Day provides a similar experience. On the iPod it's a sweetly swooping song, maybe you don't listen to the lyric's too closely. The content might elude you. The video is confrontational, contemptuous. The singer has no love for Valentine. This is the Goblin King in all his cruel glory. Part of me finds it all too easy. Valentine's Day. Massacre. School Shootings. Part of me finds it a refutation of Pearl Jam's Jeremy. This is not a song looking for sympathy. The narrator isn't wondering what went wrong when he focuses on Valentine's icy heart. Unlike the bullied and suicidal Jeremy, Valentine fantasizes about murder. He loves contemplating the power of it all.

As a visual artist Bowie is hit or miss for me. His theatrical tendencies can take him to conceptual places that border on the obvious or overwrought. It's always interesting to see what he comes up with. I never interpret a song quite the same way after seeing one but I don't consider them definitive statements on the track. Bowie makes the album he wants, whether it's the Adler Diaries or a video game soundtrack. The joy of being a Bowie fan is watching them unfurl through your life, changing as you change, revealing new aspects of even the most familiar tracks. With the video for Valentine's Day Bowie urges the listener to understand. Valentine isn't okay.

Review: Monsters University

If you have a kid you've probably already seen this but I want to talk about it anyway. I find the American relationship with children's cinema fascinating because we are so completely uncritical of it. Kid's films are either "bad" or "good enough" or "adult worthy" and not much discussion about the rest of their content occurs. If we do discuss a film aimed at children, we do so (generally) from a point of parenting rather than as a reflection of society. I would argue that children's cinema has more to say than we choose to consider.

To truly review Monsters University I would need three or four viewings. Like other successful Pixar projects it's a blending of standard cinema fare with a candy coating. A little Mission Impossible, a little Rudy, a touch of Generic Frat Film and the time honored odd coupling blend into what falls somewhere between "good enough" and "adult worthy" on the kid scale. At it's heart MU is a sports story. Instead of the kid with a dream making the big leagues he comes to understand that team work is the key to success and a great player is nothing without a great coach. As with other Pixar works there are some lines aimed firmly at Mom and Dad which mostly work well.

Monsters University is selling the American myth of meritocracy. Sully enters MU as a legacy student with a strong family history of success. Used to falling upward, Sully is quickly weeded out and finds his future in danger. He and the little kid with the big dream find themselves on the same footing. Although they succeed at redeeming themselves, they initially do so as a result of Sully's flexible ethics (no surprise to viewers of Monsters Inc.) then as a result of Mike's strong work ethic. Expelled from college,  their dream of being in the big leagues is achieved by starting in the mail room and working upwards. This is a key part of the Pixar success story. Their films often reinforce the myths we tell ourselves as a people while giving them a tweak. Mike won't be a star quarterback but teams need coaches too. Sometimes breaking and entering is the only way to inspire your friends. No matter what you do, you will never look like the Abercrombie models. Standard stuff. Kid's films love to tell you that the least popular are the most worthy. Monsters University dials that up to 11. It's a little too far.

Mike and Sully are forced to join the fraternity no one wants. They compete against the status obsessed old guard, who give Randall the acceptance he craves. It's a strange subtext in Monsters University.  He is not Mike and Sully, therefore his desire to achieve a higher social status is unworthy, it is tainted by the preordained future known to the viewer. Although it is Mike and Sully who impede Randall's successes, it is Randall we are asked to blame. To a viewer who has not seen the prior film, it's an inexplicable shunning that reflects poorly on the lead duo. The other groups are equally cliched. There are the grey toned punks, the beautiful and beautifully matched sorority sisters with terrifying interiors, and the averagely popular. Although some make what appear to be genuine overtures to the misfits, the film makes sure we know it is only to set them up for ever greater humiliations. Outcasts are genuine and supportive, the socially successful are cold to the core. So, at it's heart and despite Randall, Monsters University wants to be an anti-bullying film. Unless you are a bed wetter.

While I did not, a fair number of the world's children suffer from enuresis. All the Pull-Ups and Good-Nites in the world can't cover the societal shame we've inexplicably assigned to the condition. Parents vary wildly, from accepting to enraged. Where some children are taken for medical evaluation, others end up dead. Every year there's an abuse headline with bedwetting as the trigger point. Help boards for parents are full of discipline stories, as though a child's physical development can be changed with the proper chastisement. (My kid is not of average height, so I took away his toys. Why hasn't he started to grow?) Every parent either has a child who struggled with dry nights or has a friend who did. Like any bullying point, the stigma outlasts the ignorance. We know a great deal more about this medical condition than we did in the past. All of that leads up to this - there is a point in the movie where a scare simulator is prepared. The device uses "bedwetter" as the lowest difficulty setting and "heavy sleeper" as the highest. This is like saying you can set the oven at 300 degrees or at 300 degrees. That aside, how many kids in the theater felt that shot in the gut? Here they are, watching an anti-bullying film about hard work leading to success and they get sideswiped by a bedwetting gag. A little shame to sprinkle on their popcorn. Pixar knows better than this and they disappoint me by taking a cheap shot at these kids.

Beyond that, Monsters University is perfectly acceptable. It's a boy-centric crowd pleaser with plenty of comedic moments. (There is no Boo here, all the female characters are either adult authority figures or so far to the side as to be irrelevant.) Your kids will love it. It's unlikely you'll hate it even as the dvd hits the drive for the 15,000th time. It is a perfectly fine film with a lot to say about how we see ourselves and how little we examine our assumptions about who the hero of a story may be.

Review: Wii-U

Before the Wii-U came out it was firmly at the top of my household's holiday list. As Nintendo devotees we were early adopters of every platform they've released. When the Wii-U hit stores, it was quickly removed from the holiday list and replaced by iPads. The Wii-U, with Nintendo's bizarre DRM, seemed overpriced and underwhelming. Store displays did not allow you to play the game, relying on prerecorded commercials to sell you on the new concept. It was the exact opposite of their Wii launch and it was a disaster

I've listened to store clerks who have not played the Wii-U struggle to explain it to parents before directing them to other consoles. I've watched Nintendo issue press releases about the supposed supply shortage while my local retailers heavily promoted an excess of stock. Individual game titles went from $60 USD down to $19. The Wii-U made me think my time with Nintendo had come to an end. Nintendo is trying to make an improbable world happen. In this world you pay for a virtual version of a game which you can only play on one device. You cannot share it with a sibling or a friend. You cannot carry it to a friend's house. If you lose your device, or it dies, you lose all of your games. Nintendo makes no price concessions for this. You pay full price for a crippled version of a game. Apple charges small amounts for games you can put on any of your devices anytime. You can upgrade or change devices at will. Replace a device and Apple will load all your settings for you. Buy one copy and both kids can play. This is a battle Nintendo is going to lose and in my house they lost it long ago. We have no WiiWare. No 3DS paid downloads.

With the Wii-U falling off the holiday list it seemed that Nintendo was going to follow Little People and Playmobil out to the dustbin of growing up. The kids took their holiday cash and bought iThings. We didn't look back. Birthdays rolled around and the kids found themselves kicking around Gamestop with giftcards they weren't sure how to use. Skylanders? iCases? Like a Pixar film come to life, a fully functional Wii-U made it's play. Once it was in the kids hands their hearts beat a little faster. They remembered Mario and all the good times they'd had. The cumbersome iClone control pad stopped confusing and started to make sense. This is the marketing experience Nintendo should have opened with. Giftcards hit the counter with a clatter. Birthday money flew out of pockets. Frantic counting led to begging, then cajoling and finally pleading. iTunes and Target cards were sold on the spot to an agreeable parent. Promises destined to be broken were made. Allowance was forsworn. Spring Break belonged to Nintendo and times thought past.

Is the Wii-U more fun to play than it's weird kid averse marketing leads you to expect? Yes. Absolutely.  It's the Wii, with some added features. Unfortunately one of the added features is a cumbersome load time. I expected a dial up modem soundtrack to accompany each interminable wait. Want to start the system? That multi hour update and load thing isn't a myth. (Do NOT buy the base model, you will fill it with the first update.) Want to play a game? Wait for another system update. Now wait for the disc to load. Now wait for the .... and so on. Want to switch games? It's going to take a while. You might take this chance to fix a snack or catch up on your favorite magazines. While the Wii-U may be underpriced for it's components it is overpriced for it's out of the box experience. If you love Mario like our house does the investment may still be worth it. Super Mario Bros U is much more challenging than recent Mario games. NintendoLand beats WiiSports. Pikmin 3 is coming. If you are not a Nintendo devotee the frustration factor may drive you to another console. Perhaps that explains the lack of playable systems in the stores - a fear that encountering load times would discourage sales. It's a fair concern. If I hadn't wanted to get my Mario on I might well have said screw it and flipped the unit back to the store. The Wii-U has been a very enjoyable purchase but it certainly isn't a necessary one.

Review: Cravebox Teen Time

Oh, patriarchy. You never change. 

Before the holidays I briefly touched on Cravebox. Normally I wouldn't revisit the topic. After all, this is a book blog. If I turned it into a consumption blog you'd either endlessly read about my handbags or be grossed out by an examination of Victorian medical practices. (Both of which would be epic, now that I consider the matter.) We're back at Cravebox because I decided to give them one more try. Cravebox and I are breaking up. We are never, ever, ever getting back together. (You go talk to their friends.)

Last month Cravebox offered a Teen Time box with the description: "Being a teen girl can be kinda hard. Finding them cool stuff just got easier. We at Cravebox think girls deserve their own space… and their own stuff. That’s why our creative curators thought “outside the box” to find fun, girl-friendly discoveries to put into a box, just for them." 

I don't know why I expected anything other than what arrived. Maybe it was the words "outside the box" or perhaps "girl-friendly" instead of "gender normative mandates". I thought they might have chosen an upcoming young adult fiction title, coupled it with craft or club items. You know, some gender marketing, some "outside the box" acknowledgement that a growing teen girl needs to be shown that she is more than her sexuality. (I must have been drunk. I really have no defense.)

The Teen Time Cravebox arrived with an inspirational card I'm too depressed to quote from. More of the same about unique challenges and adventures. Being a teen sure is hard, but Cravebox is here to help. First up, a razor. Now that you're leaving your prepubescent years behind you'll want to erase as many traces of that as you can. While you're shaving, you can chew gum. Teens chew gum, because food makes you fat. (I actually have no issue with the gum.) Don't blow bubbles! This is chewing gum and your new hot pink Mary Kay gloss might smudge. 

Now that you're clean shaven and smacking those pink lips, it's time to address the rest of you! That's right - your hair. With the enclosed moisture mousse you can address all those nasty split ends you might have earned playing sports. Well groomed hair is a must for teen success. It's almost as important as clear skin, which is why Cravebox gives you a bottle of Vitamin E. You might have your skin under control but acne scars reveal a time when you didn't. Scars, burns and blemishes - Vitamin E has you covered. And that's it. Four products reinforcing the media message of your visual inadequacy and a pack of gum to chew your insecurities away. (Give mom a hug!)

Cravebox, they're just a bunch of crazy radicals. Radicals who totally know how to find cool things for teen girls struggling with questions of worth and identity. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to buy mine a gift from Think Geek. 

Holiday Boxes: Ipsy vs Birchbox

In the food boxes I valued novelty over value, but in the beauty boxes it was the absolute reverse. Ipsy was my choice for gift giving here. Each month is several full sized products in a small cosmetic bag. (I might have a bit of a bag problem, so this conceit really spoke to me.) I don't wear cosmetics very often so I didn't try these out on myself. I sent trial boxes to a girlfriend and got her thoughts. Ipsy was the clear winner. Ipsy is not a consistent box - some of the selections are limited in availability and others depend on the beauty profile the recipient fills out. Here's a look at a sample Ipsy box from Break The Sky.

Where Ipsy has some mild differences in their boxes, Birchbox appears to have a feast or famine mentality. My friend's sample box was definitely on the small and skimpy side. Birchbox is more of a grab bag service than a consistent sampling. Every subscriber is randomly sent one of ten or more possible combinations. With Ipsy, I'm sure my recipient is going to get a few decent sized products each month. With Birchbox it could be a granola bar and less cosmetics than you score walking past a Sephora. Modern Mommyhood had a pretty nice box this month. Fabulous But Evil liked hers as well. Fontenot Four was also pleased with her selection. It's possible our sample month of Birchbox was bad luck but there just wasn't enough in it to justify giving it as a gift.

Skyfall: Needs More Bond

*Yes, I know the Fleming novels are very different from the Broccoli vision.

I love Bond films. Love. Them. They're campy enough that you don't have to take the politics of the thing seriously while realistic enough to evade B movie tedium. Daniel Craig is a fine actor. He's attractive. On paper, this should be great. On the screen, Craig is playing Generic Action Hero instead of James Bond. He's going for a realism that the Bond films can't support. (Tony Stark is a better James Bond than the Bond of Skyfall.)

Right up to the point where the aging retainer whisks someone into a cave I was thinking this Bond owed way more to Batman than to Bond. He's dark, he's moody, he has an artfully placed tombstone of his beloved parents. Give the guy a cowl and call it a day. Instead of having an aging Bond face his Peter Pan complex squarely, Skyfall goes with Get Off My Lawn Bond. He's out to prove that his franchise's 50th anniversary means that the old ways are the best ways. This Bond doesn't need technology, he just needs experience. (No really, this Bond is more into his vintage car than the latest cool gadgets. I know. Believe me. Also, Loki wants to be captured? You don't say.)

If you take Bond out of its cartoonish villains and super evil seductresses, you force the audience to make ethical choices about Bond's actions. Craig's Bond comes across as a date rapist. From the island woman he ignores in bed (with mild contempt) to the Bond Girl lead, Craig seems less a lover and more a customer. Let's go with a mild spoiler and examine Bond Girl # 3 in the film. Bond identifies her as a victim of the sex trade. Sold around age 12, she's put herself into the control of a madman in an effort to escape servicing endless numbers of men. Now living in a level of fear she tells Bond he cannot comprehend, she is desperate for deliverance. Later that evening Bond sneaks (naked) into her shower for the obligatory sex. Bond Girl # 3 has no agency. She is not there for any purpose other than to sleep with Bond and deliver the men in the plot forward. She does not seduce Bond, nor does she offer sex prior to his appearance. The sex between Bond & Bond Girl # 3 is not joyful, it is a bill she must pay to potentially escape relentless terror. Afterward, in the grand tradition, she pays dearly for that frantic gamble.

Skyfall does offer a Bond Girl worthy of this Bond's respect and charm. (The question is why she's interested in him.) Naomi Harris (as Eve) sets the bar for Bond Girls. In fact, if Skyfall had taken a real risk and killed off Bond so Eve could become 007, I'd have cheered the film on. She was a far better Bond (seductive, daring, dangerous, amoral, and effective) than James Bond himself. By the end of the film we've learned her true place, and it isn't one that involves code names. Also keeping me from giving up on Skyfall was an absolutely brilliant Bond Villain. Javier Bardem completely understands the lines between campy and creepy that Bond Villains walk. It is Harris and Bardem that deliver the true Bond film moments. The rest of the cast seems plucked from Generic Suspense Film 101. Beautiful effects and sets can't repair the damage done by a Bond who leaves one wondering what right he has to run amok in other people's countries.

Things You Should Listen To: Wussy

Alright, so that's not a Wussy song. Here's the problem. Chuck Cleaver is my Barry White. He writes the most romantic damn songs you've ever heard then sings the hell out of them. (This weekend I saw Wussy open for the Afghan Whigs and sharing air space with Chuck Cleaver was exactly as I thought it would be.) In my personal reality, Chuck Cleaver is one of the biggest rock stars in the world. If I had internet startup money, it's Chuck Cleaver who'd play my events. But the Ass Ponys broke up. And then there was Wussy. I have struggled with Wussy. I love them on paper but it's been a dysfunctional musical relationship for me. 

I love Lisa Walker's voice. Lisa Walker writes great music, this is in no way me not appreciating Lisa Walker. I don't look at Mark Messerly and think Randy Cheek should be standing there. I'm ok with musical transitions. No one wants to work in the same office for their entire life. Except. When Chuck Cleaver is singing, I want to hear Chuck Cleaver. I feel the same way about Lisa Walker. If Wussy went all Outkast and started releasing two disc albums where they each do their thing, I'd buy the hell out of that. Here is a Wussy song that is mostly Lisa Walker singing. See? Mad talented. 

Where I have issues with the vocal mix on the albums, the band on stage is sublime. Everyone should see Wussy as many times as they possibly can.  This is the band your kids will be asking you about when you're old. "You went to WHAT show? In a world with Wussy???? Lame."  Don't be lame. 

Things You Should Listen To: The Devil You Know by Rickie Lee Jones

The first CD I ever bought (not the first item of music, that would take us back to LP's and 45's) was Rickie Lee Jones' The Magazine. I didn't have a CD player. I didn't even have the hope of having a CD player. When the compact disc hit it was an artificially expensive format requiring a serious investment in hardware. This was an aspirational purchase. It was a promise to myself that someday I would be the type of girl who'd listen to Rickie Lee Jones on expensive stereo equipment. (As it happened, I gained access to a CD player that very week. I never looked back.)

I can't make you love Rickie Lee Jones. I recognize that she is forever associated with slouched hats and doomed affairs in the hearts and minds of many. Having followed her entire career believe me when I say The Devil You Know is among her best work. This is a covers album. It's also a fairly predictable and shop worn selection - her answer (perhaps) to Rod Stewart's American Songbook. It's a different side of Rickie. There's a gravity to her voice which brings Billie Holliday to mind. She's weary. The girl has grown into herself. There's a moment in The Weight where she makes a sound, just a bit of an Ahh. Within that addition you can hear a resigned fatigue. The sort you quickly stifle before it drowns you. Give her a chance to win you over. For a moment, be the girl who listens to Rickie Lee Jones on outrageously expensive sound equipment.



(What I really want now is a duet between Rickie Lee Jones and Victoria Williams. File that in my dreams next to Joe Jackson recording with Perry Farrell.)

Review: Chaplin by Richard Attenborough

The reading slump returned as I tried to slog my way through The Pirate Stalker (not it's real title). As a result, I find myself revisiting some older films. Watching Robert Downey Jr  play Chaplin, I'm struck by how The Tramp is as much a part of our culture as Uncle Sam or Mom's Apple Pie and yet Chaplin himself was a British immigrant exiled from America. He spent much of his life in Switzerland. Chaplin's numerous children and grandchildren live across the world with some choosing English as their third language. There is nothing American about the Chaplin dynasty but our sentimental embrace of a family we cast out. Which is a great segue to the film.

Chaplin the biopic is a mess. It's romanticized, sanitized and fawning. Hallmark would blush at it's naked sentimentality. There are serious inaccuracies and oversights. It's still a fantastic film due largely to the impeccable casting. The focus on RDJ's lead is understandable and well deserved. RDJ so fully inhabits The Tramp that Chaplin himself no longer looks properly like Chaplin. One expects him to resemble RDJ more. It is perhaps the best performance of an actual person ever filmed. It's that good. RDJ encompasses both the mannerisms of Chaplin and our perception of Chaplin into the perfect blend. (Until the last bits of the film. Chaplin in old age is painful. RDJ is hampered by excessive prosthetics and a section of script that's barely watchable.) Because RDJ is so good, the other actors tend to get overlooked.

Just as perfect is Dan Akroyd as Mack Sennett. He captures not only Sennett's seat of his pants opportunism, but also his Canadian-ness, if such a thing can be. He's a genial cutthroat. Paul Rhys is perfection playing Chaplin's brother (and manager) Sydney. Geraldine Chaplin turns in a perfectly heartbreaking interpretation of her own grandmother, frantically crumbling food in an effort to protect herself from a life that's already happened. Maria Pitillo's Mary Pickford shows the sharp mind inside America's Sweetheart and made me long for a Nick and Nora remake putting her opposite RDJ. The film is perfectly cast with actors disappearing into their roles. And yet.

In Attenborough's film Chaplin's affinity for young teens is romanticized. By casting Moira Kelly to play both Hetty Kelly and Oona O'Neill he does a disservice to both women. (The entire presentation of the Hetty Kelly story is problematic when compared to reality.) At it's heart, Chaplin has only two categories for women, mythically pure or deeply damaged. Only Paulette Goddard (wonderfully presented by Diane Lane) escapes this division. The film has Chaplin tricked by a deceitful first wife (Milla Jovovich is appropriately vacant as Mildred Harris). Urged to consider disposing of her pregnancy our fictional Chaplin manfully declares that in his world, you marry the girl. Actually, in Chaplin's world you married the underage girl or charges would be brought. In the film, the blame is on Mildred. So too is blame placed on second wife Lita Grey (the barely seen Deborah Moore). Attenborough prefers to gloss over Lita's falling into Chaplin's world at the age of 12 (or possibly younger) after he cast her as his love interest (the flirtatious angel) in The Kid. Although Grey's version of events has changed several times over the years she is consistent in saying Chaplin urged her to abort and resented their forced marriage. Chaplin's twin problems of avoiding birth control and seducing teens is swept to a mild allusion on the side. It conflicts with the film's narrative of a noble and wounded soul.

As frustrated as I was with the film and as desperately as I wanted to cut both it's last act and it's unneeded fictional narrator (Hopkins) the overall look at Chaplin's world was brilliant. RDJ inspired me to revisit Chaplin after decades spent avoiding his work in favor of lesser known stars. In the brilliance of RDJ (himself a flawed and human man) the brilliance of Charles Chaplin is restored. I went on a week long binge of his work, then his imitators (looking at you, Billy West!) then his contemporaries, only to find myself wishing there were more. Which is sort of like saying Harlequin doesn't publish enough titles.

How To Spend Your Money: Waring Pro CC150 Cotton Candy Machine

I don't understand the Ladies Who Refuse Lunch. Why do people eat 100 calorie chemical snack packs when they could have 40 calories of sweet sugary goodness on a stick? I'm sure there's a reason that has to do with blood sugar crashes and refined carbs. Tell me all about it later. Right now I am excited about my latest kitchen toy. After a No Good Terrible week full of Problems I Can't Solve I found myself at Sur La Table. Some people drown their sorrows in sex with strangers. I buy a new spatula. Or a cotton candy machine. You know, like you do.

Commercial cotton candy machines? I've run them, disassembled them, cleaned them, and patronized them. I've never thought a home unit could do more than produce a token puff. The kind (and by kind I mean evil) people at Sur La Table invited me to play around with one of their units. Dude. DUDE! Look at that photo! I used half a tablespoon of sugar! I totally bought it. I also bought a jar of classic pink vanilla spinning sugar by Hammonds. At $9 for a small jar it's 32 cents a serving. The floss sugar Gold Medal puts out is less than 11. On the other hand, you have to store that sugar nice and dry until you've eaten 90 odd sticks of cotton candy. It seems sensible to pay a little more to eat a little less.

I've been playing with the machine a few days running. It's quick to clean and much more fun than most kitchen toys. A cup of table sugar mixed with 1/4 teaspoon of cinnamon made a delicious cotton candy but only produced half the fluff of sugar alone. When the flavor mix gets too heavy the sugar builds up in crisp little sticks on the side of the bowl. A good person would crunch it up and respin it, but I have to be honest. I just eat the cinnamon shards outright. (Waring suggests mixing Kool Aid with table sugar. Um. No. Super nasty.) I think later this week I'll mix up a cocoa / sugar base or a ginger / sugar base for some other interesting flavors. In the meantime, there is nothing wrong with vanilla. Nothing at all. (If you're going to throw a carnival in your kitchen I suggest starting with a reversed chopstick. Those paper cones aren't meant for home units. They only pack them in because you've been programmed to think cotton candy belongs there.)

Things You Should Listen To: Flashing Lights by Kids These Days

What do I tell you about Kids These Days that I haven't already said? They are, without question, the best young group working today. It's everything you like about rap, everything you like about soul and a few things you didn't even know you missed coming together in perfect little bites. Turning Kanye's Flashing Lights into a social commentary Kids These Days give us the best thing since Jay-Z dusted off  Ice-T's 99 Problems. It's like Marvin Gaye's What's Goin' On jumped into the future to see how little has changed. Austin Vesely perfectly matches the retro-modern feel with his 60's inspired visuals. The final shot of the thin young  drummer, his arms raised before being cut off into the dark, is a perfect end note. 

"Lock you up cause they don't want to see you in no cap and gown." - Kids These Days

You don't have to watch this video thinking about Rekia Boyd or that Chicago has had more than 250 murders in six months. But think about that. At least one Chicago resident dies every day, most of them black. Yesterday it was 7 year old Heaven Sutton at a candy store. Look at this page and tell me you don't want to holler. Every day in Chicago people are dying, people are crying, and people are lying about why. Chicago is not unique. Chicago is their America, I have mine. You have yours. 

"Brother, brother, brother there's far too many of you dying." - Marvin Gaye

Beyond Brave: The Secret World of Arrietty

Brave is being treated as some new, unexpected, long awaited event. It's a film. Intended for children. Marketed and distributed by Disney Pixar. With a female lead. With a mother daughter relationship. If you take away the word Pixar and add the word Ghibli, this happened in February too. The difference is hardly anyone went. If there is such a pent up desire for alternatives to the Disney Princess machine, what kept parents away from The Secret World of Arrietty? This film opened to almost precisely ten percent of Brave's opening. (U.S. numbers).

If you saw Brave I urge you to consider The Secret World of Arrietty. Do you want voice over stars? How about Amy Poehler, Will Arnett, and Carol Burnett? Good reviews? How about a 94% at Rotten Tomatoes? Strong female lead? Check. Troubled but resolved mother / daughter relationship? Check. Fight over traditional values versus a new way of living in the world? Check. Princess? Sorry. No Princess here. Asexuality? No, Arrietty has an age appropriate curiosity. Prince? Nope. Not even close. Her love affair is doomed from the start, such as it is. Strong message of social responsibility? Check. Feminist viewpoint? Check. Total American box office? 19 million. Brave made that on it's opening day.

Face it people. You like the Princess. You want the Princess. It's the Princess you turn out for.

Back to Arrietty. (A local elementary school was so taken with this film they canceled lessons for the day and organized a field trip to the cinema.) Our entry into Arrietty's world is the narrator, Sho. Sent to live with his grandmother prior to heart surgery, Sho spots Arrietty in the grass. Arrietty lives in a two parent family where her father treats her as a fully capable person. Her mother is housebound and fearful, causing friction with Arrietty who strains at the rules her mother imposes.  Arrietty's father is training her to provide for their family, with her mother's support. She is expected to do all he does. She faces the same potentially fatal dangers he does, she gathers the same provisions he does. Arrietty is praised for her strength but chastised for her lack of caution. She's a tween, it's what they do. They rebel.

Pod (her father) and Homily (her mother) have warned Arrietty all her life against mixing with humans. It's not xenophobia, it's hard earned experience. Arrietty is a brave and self reliant character. She makes herself a weapon and uses it in her own defense. She prides herself on her ingenuity and physical abilities. Merida climbs a rock face? Arrietty climbs a similar distance in a treacherous storm. When the new human (Sho) arouses her curiosity she investigates. This leads to repeated fights with her mother. Despite Sho's best intentions Pod and Homily are right. He endangers them. Homily is taken from the family and only Arrietty can save her. In doing so she realizes that her mother's rules are based on hard experience and pragmatism, not caprice. By disregarding her mother, Arrietty has cost her family their comfortable home. She says goodbye to Sho as her family is forced to leave everything behind. In doing so Arrietty urges him to fight for his own life, to follow his own path as she will. She embraces the necessity of her parent's rules but does not adopt their bigotry.

Look Arrietty, I'm not white!
But your dad trusts me!
Weird!

Arrietty is not without flaw. There are some slow pacing moments (like Brave) and a subtle racism in the depiction of Spiller, a Borrower from another area. Because he is a forager he is shown in stereotypical 'savage' attire. But Spiller is also their salvation. Where her parents thought they were the last of their race, Spiller proves differently. He offers to be their guide to a new home and shows a strong attraction to Arrietty. She treats his interest casually, her mind is full of Sho and her family. Alongside the messages of self reliance and family respect is a strong rejection of materialism. Arrietty is told time and again to take only what she needs. While they beautify their home it is through their own craftsmanship and recycling. Goods they have not made are a trap they must never accept. It is better, in her family's mind, to live independent lives through their own labor than risk being enslaved in luxury. They pride themselves on repurposing items to meet their needs.

So here was a strong female lead with a complex mother / daughter relationship. It had the Disney brand, big name voice actors, and a full advertising campaign. America stayed home. Don't tell me these characters don't exist. Disney has tried to bring you a number of female leads from Ghibli. Mononoke was even a Princess. Maybe next time we will talk about Sen from Spirited Away or Kiki from Kiki's Delivery Service. I know you think "Well, if they can bring them over as imports why can't they produce these stories in America?" Why should they? You don't go to see them.