Because

This movie is probably racist, sexist, and homophobic. And I'm gonna talk about it, even though it's not remotely current.

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Showing posts with label Bechdel Test FAIL. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bechdel Test FAIL. Show all posts

Saturday, March 9, 2013

"I'm Stupid, and He's Gay": Why I Didn't Hate Goon

On a snide day, I would characterize Goon (2011) as Rudy gets renovated for the Aptow crowd: your average underdog sports movie populated with dick-and-fart (ok, more like piss-and-herpes) jokes and "edgy," gladiator-esque hockey violence. And truly, any demonstrable value Goon gives us is delivered via these crass mechanisms of violence and lowbrow humor. Which I personally enjoy, to a point. I was about 50% sold on the artless fistfighting, the overdone "triumph of the human spirit: SPORTS!" narrative, and writer/supporting cast member Jay Baruchel's over-the-top obscenity. At first I dismissed Goon as the McFishandChips of film: cheap, forgettable, quick to leave the system, and maybe a little unpleasant as it does so. But I am pleased to report that there is at least one secretly gourmet aspect of this film for a low-culture-loving feminist to enjoy.

Masked in the hypermacho raunch of Goon is an alternative expression of masculinity. A quick glance at lead actor Sean William Scott's IMDB page and I realize I have not enjoyed a single movie I have seen him in: from the American Pie Franchise (Four white suburban boys learn the true meaning of Christmas sex? It's the kind of movie that makes me wish Affirmative Action worked the way my racist grandma thinks it works: every single white dude involved in the making of that film has to give up their spot in cinema to a more-qualified, under-appreciated disabled trans person of color), to Old School, to Cop Out, virtually everything in his filmography feels like overgrown adolescent heterosexual white male commercial filler: the blandest haddock of cinema. Despite the absurd overpopulation of these sorts of films, which are made at the expense of nonwhite, nonstraight, And The Rest (TM), kinds of stories that would really benefit English-speaking cinema (Pariah! Girlfight! Whale Rider! The Fall! Get On The Bus! Smoke Signals!), Scott brings an earnestness to main character and goon Doug Glatt, and it is largely this earnestness that makes this film redeemable.

Doug's lack of ulterior motive is often played for laughs; he's the not-so-bright nice guy who never has a witty comeback to an insult. His single "typical" masculine feature is the result of genetic lottery: Doug has an absurd tolerance for punching and getting punched. He's not full of rage, he's actually quite sweet; he just happens to fight well. This is the ticket price, the nod to the idiotic and condescending notion that all commercial films must be made for boys and men ages 14-60; this is how Doug wins the dick-measuring contest and the movie earns its dudely revenues. Physically, he's a rock.

Interestingly, Doug is not dumb. Even moments that are played for laughs at his expense reveal what is truly wonderful about Doug Glatt: he is atypically honest, and has zero ulterior motives. He doesn't play macho, or all-knowing, or studly, or any of the other costumes that men are asked to wear in this culture. It's part of the joke of his character that he lacks these things, and the way he approaches his hockey career shows that he has always felt like a failure as a man in the traditional sense: he just wants the chance to be good at something, and accepts that opportunity with dedication and without question.

One way of understanding Doug's failed-masculinity-as-strength comes from examining his family dynamics. Doug comes from a prominent New England Jewish family of doctors. Early on, we see the family coming out of Temple, and the parents express a kind of wistful dismay at both their sons: they introduce Doug's brother Ira to a nice young woman in the community, and then watch, half in denial, as Ira races to embrace his boyfriend in full view of the community. Between Ira's clear disinterest in women and Doug's unimpressive bouncer career, both parents are clearly uncomfortable with their sons; the scene ends when Eugene Levy as Doug's father, with a mixture of humor and shame, quips (or maybe just mentions deprecatingly) that both are adopted.

Ira "the gay brother" is not a central character, but his gayness functions in the plot as half-embraced and half exploited. Doug's major hockey breakthrough comes when a minor league player calls him a faggot; he responds, "My brother is gay!" They come to blows, and Doug's cement head/fist combo is captured on film and brought to the attention of a local minor league coach. Despite all the latent homophobia of the Aptow-style bromance (seen mainly in Baruch's sidekick, and in Doug's teammates), it is in taking a stand against a homophobic slur that Doug gets his big break. 

Homosexuality is similarly both embraced and mocked when the Halifax coach gives a speech that culminates in urging his team to be "Greek fuckin' underground gay porn hard!" It's somehow adorably subversive AND idiotically homophobic: it reads as training wheels for straight dudes who may be uncomfortable with atypical masculinity and/or intimacy between men (more on the latter in a bit).

Ira is never developed as a character, and really only has one moment of rejecting the tokenism inherent in the way he is treated by the film. Still, a pivotal scene for Doug comes when his parents and Ira visit him in Canada, after he has been transferred and begun to earn acclaim and popularity as a minor-league enforcer for the Halifax minor-league team. His parents urge him to give up on hockey and follow in their footsteps, and Doug has a pivotal moment of tender defiance. Doug, in his typical direct and somewhat inarticulate manner, repeats a mantra of, "I'm stupid, and he's gay," to his parents, exacting a discomfort necessary to get through to them. 

"I'm stupid, and he's gay," he exclaims repeatedly in a crowded restaurant. He uses this phrase as a chisel to chip away at the hardened layer of expectations placed on him: it is his way of owning that he will never be the man that his parents wanted him to be, that he is atypical, and that if he is not a "man" by their definition, he is still a person worthy of love and respect. Doug argues that if his parents are capable of the magical thinking that allows them to push him to go to medical school, than perhaps they are capable of equally magical thinking that would support him on his own terms. This scene could have flopped terribly, but, assuming one is willing to wade through the mask of gay jokes used to pad the theme of failed-masculinity-as-strength, it is actually quite touching. And contrary to his characterization as stupid, it is actually quite a smart speech. Crude, but smart.

Whether I see it on women, men, or people who identify as both/neither, I LOVE seeing alternative styles of masculinity. That is why, for me, sometimes a bromance is better than a romance. While I am absolutely overdosed on the fish-and-chips of the overgrown het male comedy (and the only thing stopping me from explaining why The 40 Year-Old Virgin is the nexus of everything that is wrong with our culture's approach to gender, sexuality, and romance, is that I would have to watch it again), there are some wonderful things that come out of the I Love You Mans and Superbads of this male-dominated genre: Parting the waters of all the tomfoolery and skullfuckery of the hockey team, and even within the excessively obscene performance of Jay Baruchel as the supportive best friend, we get to see Doug breaking down some of the basic isolation that keeps men from getting to be fully human

Doug's main challenge as the Halifax enforcer is to protect his roommate and fabulously named teammate Xavier LeFlamme, who is profoundly talented at hockey, but was dealt a concussive hit to the head by Doug's seasoned rival (played by Liev Schrieber) that knocked him off his game, possibly permanently. 

The sports story at its core is about a man who is strong (Doug) who has to find a way to develop a relationship with a man who is skilled but not strong in the same way (LeFlamme), and who is so shaken by the violence of the sport that he is on the verge of self-destructing. The hostility LeFlamme demonstrates for the better part of the movie is an obstacle that Doug slowly melts with his earnest, good-hearted honesty, and [spoiler alert] Doug's ultimate accomplishment in his short hockey career is to redeem his more talented teammate, so that LeFlamme can cease self-destructing and resume his craft of being a great hockey player. 

It's a story about men's intimacy, best typified by the wordless scene where Doug, following one of several pregame blowouts with LeFlamme, responds to a foul against LeFlamme by grabbing the offender's collar, punching him in the face, all the while making steady "I will protect you" eyes with LeFlamme, from the first hit to his skate to the penalty box. 
Just punches the guy like fourteen times.

"Whoa."

"We are gonna have to work in some more dick jokes,
because I am really feeling the love, here, fellow straight guy!"

It's gross, it's overblown, it's bloody and violent and face punchey, but what Doug does is to restore LeFlamme's sense of safety. And it is goddamn touching.

And I fully admit the possibility that this is just fucked up and jaded of me, but the same violent trope told in the average romcom, where a strong dude comes along and restores a woman's sense of safety so she can succeed in life, is highly likely to simultaneously offend and bore me.1



Final thoughts:

*Allison Pill does a terrific job as the love interest, despite that the entire barrier to their burgeoning romance lies in her sense of sexual shame, and her self-loathing for not being awesome at monogamy. So kudos to Pill for instilling a sense of humanity in a character whose declaration of love is literally, "You make me wanna stop sleeping with a bunch of guys.

I'm not going to discuss the romantic aspect of the movie any further because it's not a strong aspect of the film and generally gives me a bad, bad case of The Disinterest. So, you know, thanks, Goon, for couching some alternative masculinity in your gladiator momfuckjoke movie, but fuck you for being another one of the millions of movies with no good parts for women.

*Liev Schreiber did a great job as the veteran Apollo Creed/Megaboss character, and gave great energy to the film in his short bursts of screen time throughout the film. A great example is the very casual, calm conversation he shares with Doug when they meet prior to the third act; the conversation remains respectful, blunt, but absent of macho posturing. This is contrasted with a later scene in which he steals Doug's best line from that conversation, word-for-word, in a pregame speech. Schreiber brought the precise combination of likability and dislikability that was missing from his role as Sabertooth in that really off-script Wolverine movie from 2009. (Also, long live MTV Laertes amiright, Shakespeare fans?)

*Also there is this subtext element of Doug's taboo-like resistance to sharing food or drink with people that breaks down after he conversates with Schreiber in a restaurant, and I think this demonstrates the respect he has for Schreiber's character, but might be about his germphobic doctor-upbringing and signifying a subtle relinquishing of some vestigial upper-class behaviors. Or something.

*Ultimately we need more diversity in filmmakers, in casting, in writing, and every other aspect of commercial cinema. And I'm pretty sure we've made enough bromances for the century. But part of dismantling kyriarchy is that men need to learn how to be closer to other men. And if what it takes for that to happen is that men need a cushion made of 1,001 dick jokes, I can deal with that, for now. It's still more interesting to me than watching any movie about a straight woman trying to get married.





1 I don't know this for sure, though, because men and women in romances are so rarely equals the way that Glatt and LeFlamme are as teammates. If anybody can think of romances involving restored senses of safety (NOT involving Manic Pixie Dream Girls or Twilight) that aren't really awful and Safe Haven-looking, please let me know some titles, and in half a year I will get back to you with a full report.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Movie Review Haiku: What the Hell I've Been Watching Lately While Neglecting this Blog

I will chalk up my disloyalty to the precise Haiku form to... creativity! Yeah, creativity, that's it. These are listed from worst to best. Also, I am maybe going to spoil some things.


eXistenZ (1999):

Lots of biological materials,
gutted wildlife, and a routine series of mindfucks
equivalent to an unpleasantly aggressive jerkoff.

The only good thing
was Jude Law's US (and occasionally Canadian) accent.
At least he got the continent right?

[Sidebar Haiku, for Jude Law:

Jude Law, handsome
like a portrait of a WWII hero
who never came home.

Seriously, the guy's not even white;
he's sepia.]


The Grey (2012):
The only women
in the whole damn film
were the hallucinations

as, one by one,
the men against nature
were released into death;

woman = nature's silencer.
PS: Dear movie, some idiot
gave away the last 45 sec. in the trailer.


[Also: I'm fairly certain
Liam Neeson's next movie
is just going to be

120 min close-up
of Liam Neeson's cock.]


God Bless America (2011):

Best and worst trait was its preachiness.
Very articulate, and pathologically clever.
Good vigilante fantasy fun for Godless Liberals.



Enter Nowhere (2011):

Lovingly framed as a slasher
only to become No Exit
among the trees;

drinking an open bottle of 1925 wine
like it hadn't turned to vinegar.
Even though I had it figured out

before the 45 minute mark,
compelling, refreshing for its genre,
(even if it is a film

predicated on saving a Nazi from an airstrike).


Tucker and Dale Vs.Evil (2010)

A little bit Texas Chainsaw,
a little bit beauty and the beast;
reverses stereotypes, mild gore,

light on T&A,
not explicitly feminist,
but a nice nod

to the impracticality of camping
in "stripper shoes."


Fright Night (2010):

Colin Farrell plays vampire,
and I quote, "PURE SEX." Ebullient
fear and humor scene-to-scene.

Probably the best movie
about Anton Yelchin
losing his virginity

(of which there are approximately two dozen).






Monday, March 5, 2012

Birth Control Tips with The Terminator (1984)

Hey, it's a great day to ignore March 3rd's protest of state-sanctioned rape! It's a bad year to have a uterus in most of the United states, but that is for one reason, and one reason alone. No, I know what you're thinking, Dear Reader, and the issue is not federal cuts to women's health providers like Planned Parenthood. It's not backward, hypocritical compromises in the government regarding health insurance coverage. Nor is it the recent congressional sausage party panel of "experts on women's health," none of whom have ever had vaginas. And it sure ain't the Republican campaign of misinformation, slut-shaming, and general promotion of sexual and gender-related ignorance at every opportunity.

The real problem here is that most women are forgetting is that Arnold Schwarzenegger is our most under-utilized form of birth control.

Let's go back in time, shall we?

It's 1984. You are a person of the female persuasion, single, perhaps working for shitty tips as a waitress in an off-brand Red Robin. I have good news for you! You do not have to worry about safe sex because a cybernetic organism in the form of an Austrian bodybuilder will appear naked in an alley, swathed in blue electricity, ready to address all of your birth control needs! In fact, you might say he's there to perform a pre-first-term abortion. Who needs the morning after pill? Arnold Schwarzenegger is the morning BEFORE pill.

Now I know what you're thinking: "But Jellybean, I've seen this movie. By the end of the movie, Sarah Connor is so pregnant that it looks like she has a watermelon under her dress! In fact, she has her kid BECAUSE the Governator went back in time to perform his innovative new form of birth control! The relationship between the Terminator and Sarah Connor's preganacy is practically CAUSAL!"

Well, Dear Reader, Sarah Connor may have had a kid, but the two Sarah Connors that the Governator visited before he got to her--THEY certainly won't be having any children. He was more than happy to sterilize them out of existence.

Which leads us to Birth Control with the Governator Tip #1: Try to have a common name, a land line, and make sure your listing is one of the first ones in the phone book. Trust me, your health concerns related to your lady-parts will be a distant dream.
Why use an IUD when a hail of bullets will do just fine? 


Birth Control with the Governator Tip #2: Choose your stalker wisely. The first half-hour of The Terminator is essentially a competition between two men trying to find, identify, and follow Sarah Connor. One of these, Kyle Reese, will become the love of Sarah Connor's life. And nothing enhances that tingly feeling of love-at-first-sight quite like these words: "Come with me if you want to live." Best. Pick-up line. Ever.

At the end of The Terminator, Sarah Connor is happy to explain of her dead tryst-mate that, "In the few hours we had together, we loved a lifetime's worth." Why was this relationship so fulfilling to Ms. Connor? The answer is communication. After she obeys her new boyfriend and gets in his stolen car, he seduces her with tender dialog: "Do exactly what I say. Exactly," he says, obviously paraphrasing Shakespeare's Sonnet #110, "Don't move unless I say. Don't make a sound unless I say."

Now ladies, don't be fooled by professions of love such as these.  Even when he follows them up by shouting, "Do you understand? Do you understand?" at you as if you are a deaf dog who just shit on the floor. If you fall for such proclamations of love, it will be all your fault when computers become sentient, initiating a future where human skulls will crack under the wheels of tanks and no one can wear colors other than gray and army green. I don't care how wet you get for, "Come with me if you want to live," ladies, keep that aspirin between your knees. Sarah Connor obviously chose the wrong stalker. If she had simply presented herself to Bachelor from the Future #2, her pesky Women's Health Issues would have been taken care of. Completely.

Now again, Dear Reader, you may have some questions. "But Jellybean, surely Sarah Connor's situation was unique; how can I apply to get my own Governator-style Health Care?" Well, just remember what Kyle Reese says: "They are living human tissue. They look human. Sweat, bad breath, everything. Very hard to spot." Don't you worry, Reader, because according to the timeline in The Terminator, there are cybernetic "birth control solutions" everywhere by now. And if you are currently pregnant, cheer up! According to the US Department of Justice, "pregnant women are more likely to be the victims of homicide than to die from any other cause." So if you are experiencing an unwanted pregnancy, the odds are really in your favor.

Birth Control with the Governator Tip #3: If you are biologically female, DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, TREAT THE BULLET WOUNDS OF A MALE. Regardless of your or his sexual orientation, this will inevitably lead to remarks about his neat scars, which, as we all know, is the #1 cause of unprotected sex. Which is why lady doctors and nurses are always so damn pregnant!

It's time that we insist our legislators keep first aid kits behind the counter, given how they inevitably lead to pregnancy. Band-Aids are dangerous. Cotton gauze? Might as well be selling rufies!

In fact, given this current birth control crisis, perhaps women should refrain from providing any sort of medical help to males, period.

Friday, October 1, 2010

No, I wasn't Kidding About Watching "Mega Shark versus Giant Octopus"

"Ten million years ago, they were frozen in mid-combat."

Yes, folks, a prehistoric shark and octopus were evidently... flash-frozen like Alaskan tuna... and now, due to some sort of inexplicable group whale suicide that results in an avalanche, they are back to fuck up the Pacific and drive two nautical geeks to fuck.

How big are they? you ask. Watch the trailer. No, you did not imagine the last frame, in which the shark jumps out of the water to eat a 747 full of newlyweds and unbaptized babies. Nor did you imagine (and this is my favorite moment) the shark taking a bite out of the Golden Gate bridge. And you thought earthquakes made California dangerous.

The film has Lorenzo Lamas, who some of you may remember as Reno Raines from the 1992-1997 television series, Renegade, which, plotwise, was akin to The Fugitive, only with more white trash. And also there was more open-vest, slow-mo pouring water over his strong jawline and chiseled torso. Others of you may remember Lamas from his illustrious horror sequel and/or TV movie career.

In his winning "phone it in style", Lamas plays a self-described "equal opportunity racist" and Unspecified Government Dude (USD). After a brief and highly convenient character... development is too strong a word, so let's just call it introduction of the Hot Blond Nautical Woman Emma (played, oddly enough, by a washed-up Debbie Gibson), Lamas the USD gathers Emma, her Irish mentor, and a Japanese nautical scientist, Seiji who, we are led to believe by the instant moony eye-contact with Hot Blond Emma, has a certain "geek-sheik" appeal. They are held together in what one IMDB critic describes as a "high school chemistry laboratory" and made to figure out a solution. 

So there we have it: Hot Blond Scientist and Geek-Sheik Scientist bond over this very tender and meaningful scene:


Seiji Shimada: How are you holding up under pressure?
Emma MacNeil: It's not easy being brilliant under armed guard
Seiji Shimada: From what I know you're no stranger to pressure. Joyriding in an experimental sub in an ice floe seems kind of tense.
Emma MacNeil: Yeah well, I was always drawn to the water. Always felt like a part of it.
Seiji Shimada: Me too.
Emma MacNeil: It didn't matter how rough or stormy or how big the waves were, they never scared me.
Seiji Shimada: Me too. My family were all fisherman, lived on the water, lived
[meaningful pause]
Seiji Shimada: *because* of the water. They all wanted me to follow in their footsteps.
Emma MacNeil: Why didn't you?
Seiji Shimada: Too much death. I saw a dolphin caught in the net when I was a kid I couldn't free it. The panic in it's eyes. The helplessness. That was it.
Emma MacNeil: I never got past putting the worm on the hook.
[Seiji laughs and then they kiss]
Emma MacNeil: I'm going to go take a walk.
[look of confusion on Seiji's face]
Emma MacNeil: You know a-a *walk*
[Emma walks out]
Emma MacNeil: .
[Seiji - slow look of realization and follows her]

So now we've got an implied sex scene in a janitorial closet, an incredibly convenient post-coital chat about pheromones, and all the elements are in place: the Americans will use scent to lead the shark to San Francisco (which, as you have read, turns out GREAT), and the Japanese, being less the "top predator" and more the "squid-eating" types, will simultaneously lead the octopus toward Japan. No stereotypes here, folks, it's just that the Japanese are better with... tentacles...

When the wisdom of this pheromone idea is questioned, no one thinks to ask why the creatures must be lead toward immensely populated areas. The question centers more on the "how do you know it will work?" side, which is met with this thoughtful response: "Those guys have been frozen in ice for millions of years. Wouldn't you be a little horny?" (I know nothing turns me on more than mass whale suicide.)
 
Please bear in mind, I am giving you the best excerpts from the script here.

Right. So some folks die in various low-budget ways (There was one shot of the octopus' eye that was used at least a half-dozen times), and it is decided by little miss "I think I'm a mermaid" Emma that the only way to stop the carnage is to force the two aquatic marvels into a Pacific showdown. And it would obviously be very important to, you know, have some submarines around in case anything needs to get bitten in half.

Oh, and every one of the main characters besides Lamas can drive a submarine or a smaller, escape-pod submarine.

And also the two aquatic monsters can swim faster than jets can fly, which really saves a lot of waiting around.

Yeah.

There's some sort of shark-octopus fight, but it's pretty murky, and despite the film's 2009 release (only in London, where it grossed a whopping 433 pounds, or $681 US dollars), the CG effects are about as good as they were in, oh, the 1970's, so it's hard to tell who has the edge. The shark bites off a few tentacles, the octopus gets in a few heated snuggles, and after many, many fruitless torpedo launches, the pair floats into the deep again, possibly out of sheer depression. Will the scientists live to have sex in another closet? You'll have to watch to find out.

It's safe to say that this movie has already humiliated itself beyond reproach, and if you are a drunken Lorenzo Lamas with self-esteem issues, you probably shouldn't be reading this. In an effort to be judicious, I will limit my critique to three points:

First: In real life, the octopus would have totally kicked the shark's ass. Mega Octopus could have taken some pointers from its little cousin, who knows better than to back up, charge, and headbutt the shark, or to put its tentacles inside the shark's mouth. The giant pacific octopus: now there's an octopus that has perfected the Deadly Snuggle.

Second: The movie title has too many adjectives. If you need that many adjectives to make your movie appealing, you are overcompensating. If there's anything my $40,000 Masters in English has taught me, it's that adjectives are weak. I suggest following in the cinematic path of the Japanese, and giving the dueling monsters names, like "Squishy, boneless friend to all children," or "Alex, that dickhead shark who really hates bridges and anything that is orange (possibly because nothing rhymes with orange)."

Last: With the exception of some dead teens in bikinis, the movie has all the elements of a B-movie creature feature: the disbelieving officials, the contrived sex scene, the rebel hero who no one believes in, the maniac USD in command, iconic landmarks being destroyed, and even a minor submarine mutiny, but all these things feel like random elements that were ordered with less precision than a game of Boggle. There was nothing to like about the characters, but there was also very little to enjoy about hating about them. Also, they experienced pretty much everything behind reinforced steel and glass, what with all the action happening in very deep water. Because the graphics blow, the sense of scale, and therefore the sense of human vulnerability, is nil. Where is the disturbing sexual metaphor, the human sacrifice, the tongue-in-cheek "I know I'm ripping off Jaws" allusion? Why didn't anyone shout, "Go, go, go!" or "Move, move," or even something like my favorite line in Anaconda (said by Ice Cube to Jennifer Lopez): "Hold on, I think I can blow [the giant snake] up."

I give this B movie a D, in that it would have been much improved by any number of drugs, none of which I can afford, as all my recreational drug money now goes to student loans.



PS: Dear reader, your homework for the great month of October is to obtain and watch Blood Angels (good luck! It's not even on his IMdB page), in which an evil Lorenzo Lamas keeps a harem of Lady Half-Vampires, who escape and decide to run a nightclub. Get ready to talk about feminism, camp, vampires, rape culture, and how to throw a successful rave. Huzzah!