Required Reading: Fun Home

I had been meaning to read Fun Home by Alison Bechdel for a long time. I mean, this is the woman who brought us the Bechdel Test, which is a pretty important part of my feminist, pop-culture loving worldview. And Fun Home is her most famous book. So clearly this was something I needed to read. After doing so, I’m still not entirely sure what to make of this strange little book.

For those not in the know, Fun Home is a memoir about Bechdel’s growing up and coming out as a lesbian while also dealing with the suicide of her closeted father. It’s heavy and intensely private, but demonstrates the synergistic power a really good graphic novel can harness. The story Bechdel is telling is so complicated and difficult that I’m not sure it could be told any other way. The illustrations both keep the novel from sinking under its own weight and give it depth that words alone could not accomplish. Pictures allow Bechdel to say things that might be too painful for words to ever truly grasp. And when it works, it’s so beautiful.

But there’s something about the book that failed to draw my in. Maybe it’s the unfamiliar format – graphic novels are still fairly new to me. Maybe it’s the endless literary allusions. I know it’s an unpopular opinion, or a sign of my ignorance, but sometimes the book felt a little overdone to me. As a frequent over thinker and someone who uses books to understand my life, I probably should have loved this book. But maybe it was too familiar. Maybe her books weren’t my books, so I couldn’t connect. I wanted to, but I didn’t.

But, by the strange benevolence of the universe, my many nerd interests often collide. And while I just read Fun Home, a Broadway musical based on Fun Home is about to start previews in a couple of weeks. Graphic novels may be new and unfamiliar to me, but I’m a theatre nerd from way back. The language of musicals is in my bones. And while I (and many of the people involved in the musical) will admit that this sounds like the last story on Earth that should really be a musical (ok, maybe that’s Blood Meridian), it works. In the same way that illustrations allow Bechdel to say things that words cannot, Jeanine Tesori’s music captured for me things that I couldn’t get from the book. Listening to the songs from the musical somehow brought everything I just read to life. There they are. That same strange, beautiful, terrible, tragic family. There’s the contradictions, there’s the sad coincidences. They’re distilled not by images on a page, but by quivering notes and poignant silences. And I have to say, it’s beautiful.

Production and Storytelling: Star Wars vs. Jupiter Ascending

On a recent weekend, I found myself doing an amazing accidental study of what makes a quality film. I started by going to the EMP here in sunny Seattle, and seeing the fabulous “Star Wars and the Power of Costume” exhibit. The exhibit was put together by the Smithsonian and Lucasfilm and is starting its tour in Seattle. If it comes to your town, I really can’t recommend it enough. The exhibit collects almost 60 costumes from all 6 Star Wars movies, and there’s really something truly, deeply kick-ass about standing 6 inches from Darth Vader or R2-D2.

But the exhibit delivers more than just the squee of coming up a set of stairs and going “Oh my God that was my favorite action figure as a kid and now I’m standing right next to it!”

The exhibit also does a great job of taking you from concept art through the process of building some things that are really pretty incredible. The chance to look at Ralph McQuarrie’s concept art is a delight everyone should avail themselves of whenever possible. But even more amazing is hearing what kind of instructions he got from George Lucas. The fact that the man took vague instructions like “a dark lord riding on the wind” and ended up inventing Darth fucking Vader is mind blowing.

That’s the amazing part of this exhibit. It allowed me to imagine how so many of the images and characters that have shaped my life came to be. I don’t think I’d be the same person today if I’d never seen Luke Skywalker watch the twin suns set, or Princess Lea kick ass in a metal bikini. It was pretty incredible to think long and hard about what made those things so appealing, so universal, so enduring.

And it was pretty damn fun to have all of that on my brain and then go see a raging piece of nonsense like Jupiter Ascending, which is precisely what I did. As usual, smarter and funnier people have already reviewed the movie, but I want to talk a little about coming into it with Star Wars on the brain. Say what you will about George Lucas (and I have), but the man came into Star Wars with a really strong sense of mythology and storytelling. His concepts for the costumes and visuals of the story are deeply rooted in history. The costumes were modeled off of monks,

cowboys,

fighter pilots,

and royals

in a way that makes his characters instantly recognizable.

The closest analogy I have for any of the looks in Jupiter Ascending are the Silver Surfer

and a bat.

Now, I have a lot of respect for the Wachowski Twins, but looking at the story they’re telling and the way they set it up, there’s a reason Star Wars is the movie I will watch anytime, anywhere, and Jupiter Ascending is a movie I look forward to drunk watching.

Jupiter Ascending is an epic space opera. It’s got amazing spaceships and Channing Tatum as a surfing bounty hunter space warewolf. On paper, that might be more interesting than a farm boy with just a laser sword. But Jupiter Ascending fails for the same reason as the newer of the Star Wars triologies: I don’t care about taxes, even if they are space taxes. Star Wars is, at its heart, the story of a boy seeking to revenge his father and fulfill his legacy while destroying an evil Empire. Jupiter Ascending is ultimately the story of a very nasty piece of space litigation as a princess tries to claim her birthright. Sure, there’s some family squabbling, but “here, sign this space contract giving me controlling power in your inheritance” really doesn’t pack the same dramatic punch as “You killed my father. No I am your father.” There’s literally a montage set at the space-DMV. That doesn’t exactly make my inner 8 year old want to jump up and down and join the fight.

Now here. Look at Chewbacca.

 

The Saga Begins/I Begin Saga

At this point, basically anyone who’s following comic books has probably told you that Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples’ Saga series is amazing. Words like genius, brilliant, and “one of the standout comic books of the last decade” have all been thrown around by people a lot smarter and faster on the uptake than me.

So after devouring Volume 1 & 2 today, I’m going to try not to say all of those things, and say instead that I think comic books like this one are exactly what we need in order to get people into comics.

The whole point of this blog is that I’m working on educating myself about parts of nerd culture I’ve missed, and front and center in that curriculum are comic books. I didn’t read my first graphic novel until a friend handed me Watchmen in college. Frankly that was the first time comic books entered my orbit. I was a young girl in the world before the Marvel Comic Universe took over our lives and multiplexes, comic books weren’t really a thing for me and my friends.

But lo how the world has changed in the last twenty years. Comic books have blown up in a big way, and I’ve slowly found myself getting closer and closer to their orbit. But how do you even begin to approach a medium you hardly understand? I think it’s telling that the comic that brought me to comics is Lumberjanes. “Hold the phone,” I can hear you saying, “I thought this was a review of Saga.” I’m getting there.

Lumberjanes was my first title because I had been following Noelle Stevenson for years, and if she’s writing it, I was damn sure going to read it. But Lumberjanes was also my starting point because it was accessible. As an independent comic book, it doesn’t have all the intimidating history and weight of a DC or Marvel comic. There aren’t really ground rules you’re supposed to go in knowing. It’s just good clean fun, and that’s what I also find appealing about Saga.

Saga is a story that you don’t have to know anything about comics to enjoy. Brian K. Vaughan is creating a fantasy world that’s totally new and fresh. It doesn’t have baggage, and basically no matter how big of a nerd you are, we’re all starting from the same place. And what a place to start. The first moment tells you so much you need to know. A woman with wings is freaking out because she thinks she might be pooping on her horned husband while giving birth to their daughter, who has both wings and horns. Welcome to the world of Saga, where the facts are preposterous and fantastical, but the human emotions are familiar. And really, that’s the second piece of brilliance in Saga – the emotions and real and accessible. I may not have wings or children, but I know what it feels like to be freaked out and embarrassed by what my body is doing. I may have never been on the run from magical creatures or robot-headed armies, but I know what it’s like to feel cornered, singled out, and out of control of my own life. Who doesn’t? And that’s the magic of Saga.

Saga is so accessible, but that’s not the only thing that’s making it my official comics recruitment tool. Saga also has amazing, diverse, and well-rounded characters. From the good guys to the bad guys, these people are complex, contradictory and human (even when they’re actually floating teenage ghosts, or robot-headed royalty). This story screams come one, come all. This is a world with a place for you in it. A violent, sarcastic place, but a place nonetheless.

Finally, let’s get down to the real reason that this is the comic for you to give to that friend who never got your comics obsession: this story is COOL! Saga gets that part of the joy of comic books is that they connect you to your inner child. Comics give you crazy awesome things you won’t find anywhere else, and Saga provides that in spades. There’s a spaceship that is also a giant treehouse. WHO DOESN’T WANT A TREEHOUSE SPACESHIP? Finally, the art is stunningly beautiful, and sure to make those new to the medium understand how powerful it can be to wed words and glorious images like these to tell a story.

So if anyone tells you they might be interested in picking up a comic book for the first time, don’t try and catch them up on the 70 year history of the Dark Knight, or give them a comic book continuation of their favorite movie or TV show. Show them the full power and fun of comics by giving them the wide, wild, welcoming world of Saga.

Prerequisites: Dune

I just saw the 1984 Dune directed by David Lynch, and all I have to say is: where has this been all my life? Seriously. Patrick Stewart holding an immortal pug and charging into battle. Sting in the world’s strangest thong. Kyle MacLachlan as a baby-faced homoerotic messiah. Worms that look like the angriest penis in the world. Everyone’s eyebrows! This movie has everything I never even knew I wanted.

So I don’t know why, but I kind of always dismissed Dune. I read the book. But I’d heard the movie was bad, so I figured why bother. I went into this one expecting a dry, kind of boring, dusty, obtuse science fiction movie with laughably terrible effects. I could not have been more wrong.

So the movie starts and immediately there’s the Super 80s Floating Head of Exposition. I dig it. And then we get to the planet of the Emperor. But I wasn’t listening to the Emperor, because I was so distracted by the introduction of the world’s most over it diva to ever wear a body bag as a dress.

True story. This guy is wearing a costume made of a body bag and he’s gonna tell shit like it is. I’m in love.

 

So we’re rocking through some serious space-epic exposition. And I’m thinking that instead of boring and dumb, this movie looks awesome. I mean. This production design is strange and weird, but beautiful and truly unique. The world is beautiful and engaging. The story seems clear enough. We met our adorable baby-faced, giant-chinned protagonist and Jean Luc Picard, his self-defense teacher. We know that the protagonist family is the one filled with beautiful people, and the antagonist family is the one covered in horrific boils. Plus Sting, because he’s got the crazy eyes.

Totally evil. So at this point I’m thinking that we’ve got a strange, beautiful, space epic that I might have some hope of understanding. Oh ho ho. How wrong was I.

So first the David Lynch weirdness starts to sneak it. There’s the world’s most dramatic housekeeper. And a couple of little people butchering a cow. At about the same time I start to realize that this might be one of the most unintentionally homoerotic movies I’ve ever seen. I mean. We’ve got Sting. And Duncan, whose relationship to everyone is never explained, but whose pecs Paul likes to feel. I’m assuming he’s Paul’s boyfriend. And there’s the super phallic fighting drone. And the super phallic hunter/seeker. And the worms that are actually just shots of a penis.

But I still pretty much know what’s going on. House Atreides (Pretty. Humane) has taken over the planet. House Harkonnen (Gross. Murderey) is trying to kill them.  And I’m on board with all of this and then suddenly it’s like the movie drops acid and I don’t know where we are anymore.

At about the point where Paul and his mom get dropped off in the desert, I gave up on trying to comprehend what was happening and just rode the wave of drug-inspired weirdness. Everything was told to me in voiceover. Plot points weren’t so much explained as all jammed in there. We just met Big Ed and his army of Sandpeople. The sleeper will awaken. Jessica is pregnant with an all-knowing crack baby and we’ll never see her again. Paul keeps trying to chew the face off of some chick to prove he’s not gay. And riding a giant worm while making out with Big Ed.

And now he’s traveling through the Twilight Zone to acquire mystic powers. And now it’s a war movie. And now there’s a creepy Exorcist child. And Paul was smart enough to bring his own drumline to a knife fight with Sting. And now it rains and we’re done. What?

Seriously. Every time I try to pin this movie down, it changes. I think it’s a classic space epic. It drops acid and turns into a Lynchian joyride. We’ve got sweeping orchestration to accompany the basic Hero Journey. Then in drop the electric guitars and I’m pretty sure I’m in a rock opera.

I know that David Lynch hates this movie. I know production was a nightmare. I know the story is a mess that’s terribly difficult to adapt. But for my money, this was a masterpiece of surrealism and the subversion of expectations that I can’t wait to watch again.

The Mission. Quest. Thing.

Raise your hand if you’re a nerd!

Raise your hand if anyone has ever tried to make you feel like less of a nerd because you didn’t know about some other aspect of nerding.

Raise your hand if you found it strange and off-putting that instead of letting you enjoy your enthusiasm, someone was trying to make you feel inferior.

Congratulations, if you raised your hand (or, you know, just emotionally raised your hand because you’re on a bus right now and don’t want people to think you’re weird) to any or all of the above questions, this is the blog for you.

The Origins Story

My name is Jessica and I’m a nerd. I can distinctly remember the first time I saw Star Wars.  And I even more distinctly remember going into Kindergarten the next day and trying to explain to a future-cheerleader what a mind-blowing thing I had just experienced. It was impossible to articulate how much my life had just changed and how awesome this movie was. My Mother was a secret Trekkie. My Father read me the Lord of the Rings. I grew up with Harry Potter. I can speak a little Elvish when pestered. I play D&D. But I also have a life.

I grew up with nerdy things, but not exclusively. I didn’t watch a lot of TV back in the day. Still don’t compared to some. I missed a lot. And it never fails that I’ll be out at a con, or a nerdy MeetUp, and someone will bring up some classic piece of the nerd cannon, and all I can do is smile and nod. Or admit, I haven’t seen/read/played/ever even fucking heard of it. I didn’t read my first comic book, or experience my first Joss Whedon creation until I was 20. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.

On the bright side, my verbal skills have gone way up since Kindergarten. I now have the words to express the way I feel when something awesome comes along and rocks my world. And the urge to share how excited I am about this cool new stuff, it hasn’t gone away. So this blog is a documentation of an experiment. I’m setting out to give myself the nerd education of a lifetime. I want to track down the things I’ve missed, and I want to share my newfound love for thirty year old movies, and decade old TV shows with you. And I want to hear what you’re reading and seeing and doing that’s rocking your world, be it for the first time, or the thousandth time.

So come one, come all. Bring me your converts, your former sheltered kids, your people who saw the movie first, your fangirls who only started watching Doctor Who because that Doctor guy was cute, your fanboys who’ve never bothered to read the book before now, your casual fans, your hardcore nerds with recommendations galore, your huddled cosplayers yearning to go squee. The only rules are that discovery is awesome and acceptance is key. Science Fiction, fantasy, and enthusiasm are for everyone. Let’s explore them together.