The Cutprice Guignol

May 23, 2016

A Wanker’s Literary Reaction: Preacher Premiere

So, Preacher, huh? You may or may not be acquainted with the comics (I am, but am not the hardest-corest of the hardcore fans), but it’s probably been hard to avoid talk on the AMC show, which premiered last night.

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A notoriously filthy tale that revolves around Jessie Custer, a small-town reverend in the Deep South with a dark past, Cassidy, an amoral Irish vampire, and Tulip, a gun-for-hire and Jessie’s ex-lover, it piles on the Christian iconography only to subvert it with frequently horrible acts of violence, incest, Arsefaces, etc. The comics are a blasphemous ball, but could the TV show live up to it’s source material?

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May 21, 2016

“Not Just an Armchair Researcher”: Bigfoot, UFOs, and the Modern Truthseekers

Ever since I could remember, I wanted to be a conspiracy theorist.

And why wouldn’t I? The concept that there might be far more to the world and, hell, the universe I live in was and still is exciting. I grew up in a house full of imaginative skeptics; people who collected libraries of books documenting alien abductions, yetis, hauntings, political cover-ups, skinwalkers and everything else you could imagine. My childhood and adolescence was spent buried in Whitley Streiber, Tim Dinsdale, and Jon Ronson, and my first job was mere metres away from the biggest conspiracy theory in the country, Loch Ness.

But as I got older, I realised that conspiracy theories, and the subscription to them, isn’t something that’s discussed with passion in polite society- at least not without some kind of sheepish disclaimer attached. The majority of people don’t actively and wholeheartedly subscribe to certain conspiracy theories; hell, the name alone conjours up images of Joaquin Phoenix peering out beneath the brim of a tinfoil hat in Signs. Being a conspiracy theorist- like those who passionately defend earth against alien invaders- is a job or hobby that involves being told constantly that you’re wrong or crazy or both. With little to no widely accepted proof, people dedicate their lives to convincing the rest of the world that they’re the ones who’ve got it wrong and that stories and creatures that many would dismiss as urban legend could have palpable consequences on our lives. In terms of lifestyle choices, it’s the path of most resistance. The question is: why do they do it?

“Not just a armchair researcher”

At the start of last year, there was a flurry of activity in the Bigfoot-hunting community. Rick Dyer, a used car salesman, announced that he had the motherlode. Dyer claimed that he had shot and killed Bigfoot in 2012, and was now planning to take it’s corpse on tour. And he was true to his word; Dyer went on tour with a body, which he claimed had been subject to a number of tests that had ascertained it’s authenticity as a new species. During the tour, Dyer pulled in an estimated $60,000 from the public, who he charged to view the body. But holes began to appear- he was reluctant about releasing the DNA results, and had previously been caught out in a suspiciously similair Bigfoot hoax back in 2008. Towards the end of the tour, Dyer admitted that the creature he’d been parading across America with was a fake; a prop made by a specialist costume company. There was a brief flurry of interest in the media, and he was forgotten.

And that’s really the only thing you’ll hear about cryptids (creatures whose existence hasn’t yet been confirmed). The media is fascinated by duping, cases where hoaxers have convinced hundreds-sometimes thousands-of people that they’ve got undeniable proof of a new creature. But for many people, cryptids aren’t just a novelty, or a strange thought held onot by those with nothing better to do. For these people, they’re a maligned area of biology and science, an area of study that deserves as much meticulous research and patient effort as any other. With hundreds of anecdotal sightings and hotly debated evidence, I can understand why; there’s some part of me that thinks this can’t all be coincidence.

Eddie, from the Minnesota Bigfoot Research Team, agrees with me. He’s part of a no-kill group in North America, he and a bunch of enthusiastic researchers have focused their efforts on humanely and ccompassionately proving the existence of the animal through working with those who’ve encountered it. Their day-to-day work involves ” … talking with other like minded people who have had encounters, Checking groups to see if anything is new in them. Also taking reports and interviewing people. Going to the location and meeting them there to help them go through what happened to them. Look at sites for buying new equipment…” This is not just an idle hobby; this is a serious business.

The world of cryptozoology is a maligned area. For mainstream scientists, it’s generally dismissed as the work of a bunch of well-meaning but ultimately misguided organisations, while the media reflects them in sensationalist TV specials (like Finding Bigfoot, which offered a reward of ten million dollars if a group could unequivocally prove the existence of the animal. No-one claimed the cash prize.). There are dozens of Bigfoot research teams across North America, where Bigfoot is most often spotted, suggesting that this isn’t just the raving of some single-minded, very loud individuals. It’s for sure one of the most popular areas of cryptozoological study, and one that constantly seems to see itself as teetering on the edge of proving it’s point. But what would change if they actually found Bigfoot?

“Maybe equal energy and focus from all members…More ways to get funding for investigations. I think the impact would be huge if presented right way,” explains Eddie. I ask him what it would take to prove beyond reasonable doubt that Bigfoot exists, and he admits that, despite the groups well-reasoned no-kill policy, “Unfortunately, a body for analysis to take samples of and have DNA. Then, like, the National Geographic channel to have a press conference with the findings and body on display for the whole world to see.”

“There is loads of evidence out there if you start to look into it and are not just a armchair researcher sitting behind a computer and being objective”, Eddie tells me, “Depending on the scepticism and the degree of it, I answer questions leaving [people] able to be more open-minded about the subject.” Sitting behind my computer, attempting to be objective, I can’t help but feel a little fraudulent.

“I don’t sugar coat anything”

Frank Khoury is a skeptic. That’s how he describes himself on his website; also to be found there are “Are you an abductee?” tests, a guide to surgically remove alien implants, and an in-depth, four-part account of Frank’s personal encounter with what he believes to be aliens in 1997.

The story starts with him and his then-girlfriend viewing strange lights in California shortly after the passage of the Halle-Bopp comet. After a period of investigation, they had an argument that resulted in her walking away towards some nearby woods; according to Frank, she then vanished. While following her, Frank claims to have encountered strange carvings and impossible trees before he found his girlfriend, disorientated, in the middle of the forest. In the weeks that followed, they filmed footage all across America before his girlfriend suddenly left and filed an injunction against Frank. Frank puts this sudden change of heart down to whatever happened to her in the forest; he has also shared screenshots on his website, which, according to him, come from footage she had taken unbeknownst to him during their travels. They appear to depict small objects travelling through the sky at great speed while his girlfriend, Franks writes, chants and slurs in the background of the video. I attempted to confirm some of his story with prominent figures mentioned throughout; while they couldn’t remember Frank by name, they didn’t mark out his contact with them as impossible.

Since his encounter, he’s taken on the mantle of UFO investigator, and has set up a website that covers everything from alleged aliens encountered by NASA astronauts to photographs from Roswell, 1947. According to a ticker at the bottom of the page, the site as had nearly seven million views since 2008. The guestbook is packed with submissions from other people keen to have their own extra-terrestrial encounters verified by a bonafide expert; some of the entries are only a matter of days old.

I emailed Frank in the early days of planning this article; some part of me was desperate to talk with someone who believed they’d had a genuine alien encounter. Studying or hunting for cryptids is one thing, actually having an encounter with a creature or entity that directly affects one’s life is something else. It struck me, while I was in contact with the sasquatch hunters, that they were able to detach themselves somewhat from their work. It’s not that they weren’t totally passionate and entrenched in their area of study, but they didn’t have to spend a large portion of their lives trying to convince their friends and family that something utterly unbelievable had happened to them, and was the very reason that major events in their life had taken place. During my research, it became clear that attempts to create a global community of people who’d had ET encounters hadn’t been totally successful. Many accounts recount the loneliness, the isolation, the confusion that followed contact, because alien encounters aren’t taken seriously in polite society (whether they should be is another question entirely). Alien contact groups, at least the ones I came across, aren’t primarily there to provide support for those who’ve been affected by perceived contact, but rather to collect evidence, verify contact, and prove a point. Frank was one of many who had a perceived alien contact, and spent most of the rest of his life trying to rebuild and find answers for what he and many others have experienced.

“It changed my life forever. I quit my job managing car dealerships for 20 years and travelled 24/7/365 for 12 years straight. In 2002, my life savings were all but gone, so I decided to design websites for hotels, motels and inns, although I had no idea how to design websites. I taught myself as much as I could and faked the rest”, Frank writes to me in an email that I receive in the very early hours of a bitter December morning.

“When I first became a UFO Investigator in late 1997, it was not by choice. During a 6-week period, we filmed strange objects almost daily, spanning 6 western states. In September 1997, my entire world was turned upside down. In November 1997, I made a decision to find answers and became a UFO Investigator…Despite the initial insults and criticism, I bought all of the UFO related iron-on patches and lettering I could find and everywhere I went, I stood out in every crowd. To my surprise, the insults got quiet and people started approaching me and telling me about their own experiences, that they had never talked about before.”

Frank, who describes himself as the biggest sceptic he’s ever known, prides himself on his alternative approach to UFO investigation. “Unlike most people in the so-called UFO Community, I present cases that I’ve personally investigated, like the Alien Autopsy Video, with my findings, then let people decide for themselves. I don’t sugar coat anything, nor do I ever try to convince someone that it’s real, just because I believe it is.”

And there’s no doubt that Frank truly believes that aliens are real. When I ask him what he thinks would prove to the wider world that UFOs and ET contact are real, I receive his longest reply yet; “Nothing more can be done. There is way more hard evidence available right now than we need to prove that UFOs and non-human beings visit our planet regularly. One out of hundreds of credible cases comes to mind. The Betty and Barney Hill incident. Under regressive hypnosis, Betty recalled in complete detail a three dimensional star map that was shown to her by a tall grey alien. After professionally recreating the map, it did not match up with anything in our skies. The case was dismissed and forgotten for almost 20 years, when a young journalist took interest in the case and quickly discovered that Betty’s star map matched up perfectly with a star system named Zeta Riticuli. Years earlier, it did not match anything, because no telescope on Earth could see that far into space. If this is not conclusive evidence or proof, then please tell me what is.”

(It’s worth noting that the Betty and Barney Hill incident, which took place in 1961, is a key piece of evidence both for and against the existence of alien abductions; aside from the star map Frank describes, there were implications that the couple had been influenced by a contemporary science-fiction show called The Outer Limits. It was broadcast twelve days before the couple’s testimony, and featured an episode with aliens that bore a striking resemblance to the ones the couple described under hypnosis. You can read more about the fascinating case and it’s implications here).

I had one more question for Frank: was it important that wider society accepted and started believing in UFOs and alien contact? The response was definitive. “It’s extremely important. I’d say that at the current rate of social and environmental deterioration on Earth, that ETs are the only hope left for Earth’s survival.”

In the course of writing this article-which took a gruelling month, hours of research, cancelled interviews, and fascinating people- something started to make sense to me. For the people involved in this kind of research, simply proving a point isn’t the main aim. There’s more to their involvement than smugly proving that they were right all along. However bizarre their intentions and actions seem to most, there is a compassionate undercurrent to their work. They want to support people who’ve encountered things that would have them defined as crazy by their friends and family, and that’s pretty fascinating. Is that the reason they do it? Possibly. But their work to help legitimize the experiences of people who’ve been through the out-of-the-ordinary is something that most of us just won’t accept, despite the fact that these kinds of encounters can have far-reaching and profound effects on the lives of those afflicted. Now, I’m not sure whether I believe in any of this any more than I did when I started writing this article, but what I do believe is that the people who are convinced that these events have happened to them can find themselves dominated by isolation and confusion. If listening a little closer to their experiences helps alleviate that, I can’t really find much to argue with there.

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May 20, 2016

Fifty Shades Darker: Chapter Seven

It’s been one of those weeks- the kind of weeks where stress piles upon stress piles upon stress, and before you know it it’s time to write another Fifty Shades Darker recap, fight the cat away from the actual book you’re reading, then sleep till Monday morning. We all have those weeks, right? I have some boozy gingerbeer and good company awaiting me when this is over, so let’s spend a lazy Saturday together picking this apart once more. Because I love you.

We left off with Ana bidding the money Christian forced on her at a charity auction. Christian is not best pleased.

“Christian leans over to me, a large fake smile plastered across his face. He kisses my cheek and then moves closer to whisper in my ear in a very cold, controlled voice.”

”

I had THE BIGGEST crush on Jude Law in this movie. The. Biggest.

Mmm, I love it when my man talks to me like a malfunctioning Gigolo Joe bot from AI. He grabs her hand and pulls it on to his dick- bare in mind, they’re sitting at a table with his grandparents, parents, and many other guests- and she starts giving him a rub job right there and then. And not a subtle one, either-

“Taking full advantage, I slowly caress him, letting my fingers explore. Christian keeps his hand over mine, hiding my bold fingers, while his thumb skates softly over the nape of my neck. His mouth opens as he gasps softly…”

So, yeah, everyone knows exactly what’s happening because these dicks have literally no sexual boundaries. “Everything south of [her] navel contracts” again, so I assume she just tips off the chair like a Barbie you can’t get to stand up properly. Christian is about to drag her off for some banging when his sister arrives to take Ana to the first dance auction.

Ana is nervous, but Mia reminds her that Christian will absoloutely for sure not be letting anyone else dance with her, so we’re back to the middle-schoolers exchanging dramatic texts in their lunch hour again. The announcer gets absurdly creepy:

““Now, gentlemen, pray gather round, and take a good look at what could be yours for the first dance. Twelve comely and compliant wenches.””

I don’t care if this is all for fun, actual, legitimate boke at “comely and compliant.” Because all you want a woman to be is hot and agreeable, right? The auction begins, and Mia casually mentions the fact that Christian was a “brawler” in his youth. Ana internally notes that “another piece of the jigsaw falls into place”, which doesn’t really make sense until you realize that she’s referencing Christian’s predilection for non-consensual violence. Ana is called up for auction, and Christian immediately bids ten thousand dollars- which is pretty much triple what any of the other women went for. But wait, some else has bid fifteen thousand!

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Ana simply DIES at how EMBARRASSING it is as a bidding war breaks out over her. Shut the fuck up, Ana, we all know you’re the prettiest but also so OBLIVIOUS to your PRETTINESS which makes you NOT LIKE THEM OTHER GIRLS. Christian bids one hundred thousand, wins, and drags Ana off to bone, commenting:

““I’m sure it’ll be worth every single cent.””

Haha, you remember when Ana was complaining about him making her feel like a prostitute? Me neither. He takes her to his old bedroom, where posters for Fight Club and The Matrix are hanging (of COURSE they are, of fucking COURSE they are, Jesus, for someone who’s so soppphiiiistimmcaaated he sure picked the two most generic movie posters to slap up in his bedroom). He tells her that he’s going to spank her, but only on the promise that she’ll use her safeword. Look, just a page or so ago, Ana mentions that she’s had four glasses of wine plus champagne, and I’m not saying that Christian is deliberatley waiting till she’s intoxicated to push her boundaries, just that he’s openly done that before and we should bear that in mind.

He spanks her, then jams his fingers in her and she comes immediatley. He puts on a condom, and whispers the words every woman dreams of hearing in the bedroom into her ear-

““This is going to be quick, baby”

I have this horrible feeling that this is the picture that will display when I post this to my Facebook, and suddenly my mum will have a vested interest in reading these recaps.

Christian lasts six lines, and they head back to the dancefloor. Yeah, like no one knew what you were just doing. They dance to “I’ve Got You Under my Skin,” and Christian mentions how fitting it is;

Welcome back to the Slitheen Banter, we’ve all missed you.

Christian’s therapist, Doctor Flynn, who will be played by Hugh Dancy in the movies (HUGH WHY NOOOO), asks for a dance, and Christian allows it. Flynn makes some light conversation;

““I’m glad to finally meet you, Anastasia. Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks.

“I was,” I whisper.”

Oh God I miss Hannibal so much

Well, fuck you too, Ana. I still don’t get why everyone sees her as this wildly charming, sweet, intelligent young woman, when she’s repeatedly been rude, dumb and awkward around pretty much everyone Christian’s introduced her to. Ana admits she just wants to ask him about Christian, and Flynn flippantly replies that they’d be there till Christmas. Obviously Ana doesn’t get the joke, and when, he politely explains it to her:

““You’ve just confirmed what I’ve been saying to Christian . . . that you’re an ex-
pensive charlatan””

Wow, much charming, so kind. He “snorts” his words twice in ten lines, which is an amusing image, and is obviously chaaaaaaaaaarmed by ~~EL James~~ Ana and her seductive methods of constant sullen insults (to be fair, that did work for me) .Ana jokes with Christian that Flynn told her everything, and we get this:

“Christian tenses. “Well, in that case, I’ll get your bag. I’m sure you want nothing more to do with me,” he says softly.

I stop. “He didn’t tell me anything!” My voice fills with panic.

Christian blinks before relief floods his face. He pulls me into his arms again. “Then let’s enjoy this dance.””

Fuck, do these two need a slap. Like, as a couple. Not a sexy-spanking-time one, but an actual, honest-to-goodness slap. Why can’t they get through a fucking conversation-with each other or anyone else- without dragging their deep, dark, paaaaainful secrets into it? Is it because without them, we might notice that they’re actually thick, pretentious, hollow shells of characters and not the greatest people of all time as the author would have you believe? We keep on being told how much everyone loves them and how wonderful they both are, except that we’re only really shown them being sullen, rude, indescribably moody and almost comically dramatic. I guess if we stop raking over the fizzling coals of Christian’s “problems”, the reader might suddenly notice that the two of them are amongst the most unintentionally unlikable leading characters ever to turn up in any fiction book ever. I mean, Patrick Bateman ain’t got nothing on this pair, and he put a rat up a dead woman’s vagina. Just sayin’.

They dance some more, and then Mrs Robinson appears to talk to Ana. Mrs Robinson tells her that Christian is in love with her, something which staggers Ana:

“A hundred images dance through my head: the iPad, the gliding, flying to see me, all his actions, his possessiveness, one hundred thousand dollars for a dance. Is this love?”

No. No it FUCKING isn’t. Jesus, is that concept ingrained so much into our culture that this line genuinely didn’t bother most readers of the book? Is it so normal for a man to exercise horrifying jealousy, to stalk his partner (because, yeah, that’s what the “flying to see me” was about), and to throw money at her till she loves him that this sentence is seen as Ana acknowledging how much he loves her, and not how much she desperately needs to get away? “So, yeah, this new guy I’m seeing, his way possesive and forces shit that I’ve actively told him I don’t want on me”. “Sounds like a catch, has he got a friend?” Fucking hell.

Mrs Robinson tells her that she wishes them the best but that if Ana breaks his heart, she’ll come after her. And Ana actually gets in a moderate zinger:

“”And maybe I’ll give you a taste of your own medicine on behalf of the fifteen-year-old child you molested and probably fucked-up even more than he already was.””

I mean, it implies that she’s going to molest her right back, but still, it’s something! Ana storms over to Christian and tells him that she doesn’t want him talking to Mrs Robinson any more, which is probably a fine idea. Ana goes to the bathroom, and comes out to find Christian telling Mrs Robinson to stay away from her. On the phone, for some reason, even though she’s still at the party. Then Ana calls her old, and we’re back to thinking her age and her once-sexual involvement with Christian is the worst thing about her.

Carrick, Christian’s father, asks Ana for a dance, and they discuss Christian’s traumatic childhood. God, is Ana good at a party! The party draws to a close with some fireworks, and Ana basically grins herself to death with excitement. Mia, Christian’s sister, tries to convince them to stay, but Christian insists on leaving. Mia is dissapointed;

““You must come by sometime next week. Maybe we can hit the mall?”

“Sure, Mia.” I grin, though in the back of my mind I’m wondering how since I have to work for a living.”

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OH WHAT’S THAT COMING FROM THE GIRL WHO LIVED OFF HER SO-CALLED BEST FRIEND’S MONEY ALL THE WAY THROUGH COLLEGE, I DON’T THINK I CAUGHT IT OVER THE SOUND OF THAT FUCKING IRONY. Anyway, Christian says they have a big day, and once they’re alone, Ana asks why. He tells her that his Doctor is coming round to give her the contraceptive shot.

““It’s my body,” I mutter, annoyed that he hasn’t asked me.

“It’s mine, too,” he whispers.”

A late one, but truly appropriate.

Look, I don’t know how I can spell this out more clearly: CHRISTIAN. DOES. NOT. CARE. ABOUT. ANA’S. BODILY. AUTONOMY. He straight-up does not give shit. He considers her body his own and, since he doesn’t like wearing condoms, that means she’s getting the contraceptive shot (which can come with side effects, but WHO CARES). Instead of breaking his fucking nose like she’s entitled to, Ana thinks this:

“Yes, my body is his . . . he knows it better than I do.”

There are so many points that I have wanted to rage-quit this series, but this is one of the most potent. Like, seriously? This is what woman should be desiring? Literally handing over their bodily autonomy to a guy who can’t tell that a woman crying during sexual activity might mean she’s not into it? I wouldn’t trust him with my fucking laptop, let alone my reproductive system.

They get to the car, and Ana finds a note for Mrs Robinson being all, “yo, I misjudged you, you’re amazing and awesome and the prettiest ever and you totally deserve the lead in the school play”, or fucking something, I’ve kind of gone cross-eyed with rage. Ana thinks about how Mrs Robinson “cares for him deeply”, and we’re once again missing the point that if she truly cared for him deeply she wouldn’t have molested him as a child.

They get back to the apartment, and discover that Ana’s car has had it’s tires slashed and paint thrown on it. The bodyguards go into the apartment ahead of them, and Christian barrels in like the idiot he is, ordering Ana to stay outside.

“Holy shit. Christian! All manner of horrific outcomes run through my mind, but all I can do is stand and wait.”

I promise you, Ana, nothing is as horrific as the outcome that would occur if I got my fucking hands on him. Till next time, folks!

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May 18, 2016

Best Episodes Ever

Ah, The Simpsons-the greatest show on earth, as I’ve previously discussed, and the binding force between all my disparate little clusters of friends, a true bringer-together of people, a masterpiece in (not-so-anymore-) modern comedy and animation. And yeah, no-one’s arguing that the last, well, fifteen or so seasons have been as good as the first decade of the show, but it will always hold a special place in my heart- heartfelt, hilarious, and often hysterical, The Simpsons is and always will be the pinnacle of animated comedy. So I’m going to indulge myself, and take a look at my favourite episodes from each of the first ten seasons- as we can all agree, the glory years of the show-and no doubt start a genuine turf war as people on the internet violently disagree with me. Join me, won’t you?

Season One: Some Enchanted Evening

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Somehow, this was the first full episode the show produced, even though it was the last to be broadcast in their debut season- and it’s by far the most Simpsons-y of that first season that was spent mostly groping around trying to find it’s feet (Krusty Gets Busted aside, of course). Homer attempts to romance Marge as the kids full victim to the Babysitter Bandit in a pitch-black and also strangely sweet outing, featuring an awesome guest performance from Penny Marshall as the Babysitter Bandit herself.

Season Two: Treehouse of Horror

Looking at the list of season two episodes- Dead Putting Society, Bart Gets an F, Lisa’s Substitute- I was immediately overwhelmed by a feeling of panic as I realized that even in it’s second season, The Simpsons was pretty much killing it week in, week out and there was no way to pick a best one. But, of course, this was the first appearance of those now-famed Halloween episodes- yes, this is the one with their The Raven parody, as well as high-concept takes on Twilight Zone episodes and parody of The Amityville Horror that may have scared me as a child more than the actual film did.

Season Three: Flaming Moe’s

Now, I know a lot of people will fight me on this- the third season is, after all, legitimately flawless, and packed with splutter-worthy gags, outright surrealism, and a lot of heart- but this episode has a rewatchability unrivaled by the rest of the episodes. Anything Moe-centric is usually brilliantly dingy and grim, and this episode packs it on hard- the genuinely horrible Cheers parody song (which I know all the words AND harmony parts to), Homer’s Moe-centric breakdown, and the eventual Phantom of the Opera climax to the episode (also, somehow, Aerosmith). Now THAT’S television.

Season Four: Lisa the Beauty Queen

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Look, I am Lisa Simpson. I was watching The PTA Disbands not long ago with the consort, and when it came to the “Grade me, grade me, I’m ever so smart!” scene, he just gave me a very long, hard look. So Lisa-centric episodes always stand out to me, and this one has always been a secret favourite from this season, even with classics like Homer’s Triple Bypass and Last Exit to Springfield. A stridently feminist, outrageously fun piece where Homer tries desperatley to win Lisa’s love by entering her in a beauty contest, it’s got heart, soul, and ideals amongst the illegal Colombian eyelash extensions. Even if I have always wanted to try a Laramie cigarette.

Season Five: Cape Feare

In another unfairly excellent season, you absoloutely can’t beat the sheer comedy value of what everyone can politely agree is the best Sideshow Bob episode. Obviously my love for Kelsey Grammer helps a lot here, but you can’t argue with the joke-per-minute ratio in this non-stop, gag-packed twenty minutes: Sideshow Bob trying to write the perfect threatening letter, Homer failing to understand the concept of witness protection, Bart avoiding death by demanding to hear a series of showtunes (a method that would also work on me, if you feel that’s information you may need to know for the future)…this is comedy gold, The Simpsons at the purely funny, unbeatably silly best.

Season Six: Homer Badman

There’s a very particular reason this episode is so special to me- and that’s because it was broadcast only a few hours after I was born. Yes, this is my birthday episode, and it also just so happens to be fucking brilliant. “See you in hell, Candy Boys!” is a phrase I get a surprising amount of mileage out of, only the icing on the cake of an episode that satirizes mob justice, outrage culture and the tabloid media through the lens of a candy Venus de Milo. Only The Simpsons could actually land their points with such a ridiculous premise, but they pull it off in an episode that balances madcap comedy with fiercely potent social commentary. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Family Guy (let me get one shot in, please).

Season Seven: Scenes From a Class Struggle in Springfield

In the commentary for this episode (yeah, I watch the commentaries, wanna make something of it?), the director Susie Dieter mentioned that this is the episode that she most often gets women telling her is their favourite; add me to that list, because this gorgeously animated and lovingly crafted episode is up there with the best they ever did. It’s a fantastic Julie Kavner performance as we suddenly figure out just how frustrating and difficult life is for Marge, and why she’s so intent on bettering herself and her family. It’s hard to balance an episode with this much of an emotional core with the by-now patented brand of Simpsons comedy, but this episode did it with style. Also, am I the only one who kind of fancies Marge in that Chanel dress?

Season Eight: Homer vs the Eighteenth Amendment

“Alcohol: the cause of, and solution to, all of life’s problems.” This magnificently funny and creative half-hour all revolves around the magic of booze, framed with a throwback forties detective style and a madcap sense of fun. Some episodes don’t have much going on past their sheer comedic brilliance, and this is one of them- there’s no real point to Homer becoming the elusive Beer Baron and flooding the town with illegal alcohol as the stoic Rex Banner attempts to hunt him down- it’s just a silly set-up for a bunch of brilliant jokes and set-pieces (“I don’t know what you expect to see in this, uh, friendly, neighbourhood pet shop”) as the animators have great fun bringing to life the retro ethos of the episode.

Season Nine: Girly Edition

Though season nine features the episode that many people believe to be the turning point in terms of quality for The Simpsons, The Principal and the Pauper, there was still some steam left in them yet- particularly for this satirical bit of fun, peeling apart manafactured, manipulative TV and throwing Bart and Lisa into competition with each other as they battle for the top spot at a TV station. It’s one of the last solid episodes to focus on this relationship, a high point for the wobbly few seasons to come. And it’s got a whole lot of the inimitable Kent Brockman, the greatest news anchor in TV history.

Season Ten: The Wizard of Evergreen Terrace

The series takes a notable drop in quality at the decade mark, and it was hard to actually pull out the best episode from this season because so many of them are just…okay. But this wouldn’t be a list about The Simpsons unless it ended on an episode in which Homer failed dismally and let others succeed in his wake- it’s daft fun with a throughline of existential panic about what we leave behind, as well as featuring the chair that can’t fall down which is an invention I would gladly take advantage of. As the series drifted off into the wild yellow ether, this was one of the last truly great episodes they ever produced.

So, those are my best Simpsons episodes (from the only seasons that matter, of course), what are yours, and how violently do we disagree?

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May 15, 2016

Popjunk Popcorn: Captain America: Civil War

Captain America: Civil War suffered from many of the same problems of Batman vs Superman. Is this a stumbling block for big superhero movies?

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May 12, 2016

Fifty Shades Darker: Chapter Six

Aaaaaand we’re back. There’s been some kind of glitch in the Matrix where I live in Scotland, so I’ve spent this week basking on riverbanks and drinking alcoholic ginger beer like some sort of boozy Famous Five. But alas, the good times must come to an end, and Fifty Shades Darker beckons me back to it’s doom-filled bosom once again. We left off last week with- Oh God, this chapter opens with a sex scene. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse.

Christian and Ana are getting down to the dirty, as they never stop doing, after Christian showed Ana where it was and wasn’t okay to touch him on his body.

“Boy, I want him inside me, now.”

BOW HOWDY MISTA. Why does Ana’s inner monologue sound like a cheeky fifties schoolboy asking for candy? Her nipples grow hard and “elongate” under his touch which, um, isn’t how any of this works, but alright.

““You’re so wet.” His voice is filled with wonder.”

And once again, doubt is cast over whether Christian has ever actually aroused a woman before. She goes on top, and is lost to a void of pleasure etc (seriously, the flowery sex language is so jarring that I’m not sure how anyone isn’t distracted enough to get aroused)

“Up and down . . . again and again . . . Oh yes . . .”.

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Yup, try and keep it in your panties, ladies, because I know we’re all squirting like broken fire hydrants right now.

““My Ana,” he mouths.

“Yes,” I rasp. “Always.””

Rasping: the sexist noise, and certainly not just the one I spent the last week making because I have a fucking chest infection. Just picture the scene: Christian mouthing shit at Ana like one ear hasn’t popped yet, while she replies in a voice that sounds like that guy who sang Roxanne in Moulin Rouge.

They come, and literally half a page later Christian starts on this:

““All those boys pursuing you—that isn’t enough of a clue?”

“Boys? What boys?”

“You want the list?” Christian frowns. “The photographer, he’s crazy about you, that boy in the hardware store, your roommate’s older brother. Your boss,” he adds bitterly.

“Oh, Christian, that’s just not true.”

“Trust me. They want you. They want what’s mine.””

Hitting it early today.

They’re still cuddling in bed at this point. He’s literally just pulled out of her, and he’s already starting with the “WEH WEH BOYS FANCY YOU AND IT’S NOT FAIR” malarkey again. How unreasonably pathetic is that? If Christian Grey is an “alpha” then I’d hate to see what a “beta” comprises of. A literal pile of goo that accuses you of friendzoning?

Also, why is he getting pissed at Ana for this? It’s not her fault people find her attractive, though God knows why. This is one of the nastiest parts of Christian possesiveness; treating Ana as if the reactions of other people are her fault (remember in the first book when he threw a hissy over Jose calling her?). This isn’t Ana’s problem, it’s Christian’s, but of course he’s making it her fault because he’s a fucking man-child who can’t face up to any of his own faults. Also strange: Ana denying these men were into her. She knows they were- she ackowledged it in the first book. It’s just character inconsistency, but it feels a lot like Ana backtracking to try and assuage Christian’s anger at her, which is some nasty bullshit.

Christian takes off the condom and drops it on the floor- which is completely fucking disgusting, by the way- and then he just threatens Ana’s bodily autonomy a little, you know, pillow chat:

““I hate those things. I’ve a good mind to call Dr. Greene around to give you a shot.””

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A contraceptive shot, to be clear, not that Ana has ever expressed a desire for one. We gloss straight over that, and Ana touches him some more in his “allowed” zones, and then they fuck (off-screen, mercifully).

We cut to Ana in the shower, and she’s thinking about Mrs Robinson-and she actually gets angry for a bit, cursing her out for taking advantage of a child and fucking him up even further, which is about time. Then she gets out of the shower and puts on some sexy clothes for the event she’s attending with Christian and his family that evening, which is way more important, and Christian comes in and ogles her some.

He’s got some vibrating sexy-time balls, and suggests Ana put them up herself while they go out to the big masked ball that they’re off to. Look. I don’t know what you’re into, but the thought of having a vibrator up me for the duration of a family gathering doesn’t really get me hot. What if they fell out? Or someone heard the vibrating? Or I had an uncontrollable, screeching orgasm in the middle of dinner? Considering Ana’s “every time the wind changes” orgasm control, I’m surprised this hasn’t crossed Christian’s mind.

Pictured: Ana’s orgasm after someone leans over her to get something.

Ana agress, and Christian inserts the balls (ugh, not alright), and they head off. Ana spends two full paragraphs talking about her great she looks- “worthy of the red carpet”- because she’s sooooo modest and mousy and doesn’t think she’s worthy of Christian at all. Christian tells her she looks stunning as they’re going to leave, and for some reason this pisses me off:

“I flush at this compliment in front of Taylor and the other men.”

Because if it was in front of other women, she would be gloating that she was the prettiest. For some reason, Christian goes to show Ana his library which, as a student of English Literature, HE NEVER THOUGH TO SHOW HER BEFORE. They finally get in the car and go.

Christian gets Ana all hot and bothered in the car, and tells her what to expect from the event- rich people, fancy dresses, etc. They arrive, and apparently the papparazzi recognise Christian despite his mask because of his “copper hair”. This is interesting to me, because this is the colour of copper:

natcopper – and I don’t recall Jamie Dornan’s hair being that ginger in the movies at all. Why the discrimination against gingers, movie industry? Moving on.

They bump into Christian’s sister Mia, who introduces Ana to her friends. Of course, they’re jealous of the fact she snagged the indisuptably amazing Christian Grey:

““Of course we all thought Christian was gay,” she says snidely, concealing her rancor with a large, fake smile.

Mia pouts at her.

“Lily, behave yourself. It’s obvious he has excellent taste in women. He was waiting for the right one to come along, and it wasn’t you!””

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Yes, it was ~~EL James~~ Ana you wanton harlot! She’s the prettiest and the smartest and has the hottest boyfriend SO THERE!

Ana meets some other people at the party, and one of them mentions that her company is being bought out- and Ana internally notes that it’s Christian behind it all, or, in her words, “a stalker par excellence”. Again, this stalker stuff: right there in the text. I’m not pulling this from nowhere, you know.

She’s introduced to his grandparents, and we get some more random woman-bashing, because God forbid we miss one opportunity:

“Mrs. Trevelyan is all over me like a rash.”

Nice. That’s someone’s Gran, you cunt. They put some money in envelopes, and we take half a page out to regurgitate the menu, which sounds…fine, I guess. They eat dinner, and Ana comments internally on how loud Mia is and how Christian’s grandmother is too nasty to her husband. A waitress stops by- but not just any waitress, one who has the audacity to have met Christian before! Ana snarks on her hair, and acts pleased when Christian doesn’t acknowledge her.

Mmm, yeah, your rampant insecurity, baby, so sexy, much hot. These two shits deserve each other- they’re like a couple of fifteen-year-olds throwing vague Facebook statuses at each other whenever one of them so much as glances at someone else. Is Ana actually being worse than Christian in this chapter? Not far off. Why does Ana hate all women who cross her path? Why is that considered a desirable trait in a leading lady? Is internalized misogyny not a thing EL James is aware of as a concept, or is she just so deeply entrenched in it she can’t do anything but write it into her characters?

Many questions.

Ana goes to the bathroom to take out the sexy-time balls, and they return to the table.The prizes for the auction take up another half-page and Ana winds up bidding the $24,000 Christian forced on her a few chapters ago on a weekend at Christian’s family’s property in Aspen, and wins. And…that’s the end of the most insecure chapter of all time!

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May 10, 2016

Captain America: Civil Bore

What a beautiful day it was yesterday; the sun was shining, birds were probably tweeting somewhere, and the cat had stopped yowling for five minutes so I could get some work done. So off I strolled- without a jacket, which is the first time I’ve risked stepping outside in this godforsaken country without out in about nine years- to see a movie, because it was that kind of day. And that movie was Captain America: Civil War.

I must admit, I was pretty intrigued by the premise of this film- after years of the Avengers leaving fatal and catastrophic collateral damage behind most of their escapades, the governments of the world want to hold them to account. Some of the team is for the idea, while others are against in, causing a schism that bubbles over into violence and genuine animosity. It’s a “who-watches-the-watchman” idea that spices up Marvel’s usual punches-quips-cameos structure, and it looked as if it could be at least a new take on what we’d seen previously.

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And I guess, in some ways, it was. All those elements were in the film, it’s just that they were lost under a staggeringly overfull two-and-a-half hours of movie. While Civil War was aeons better than the now-legendarily awful Batman vs Superman, it suffered from a lot of the same problems as it’s DC contemporary-mainly, that it was a lot of set-up for other movies, and didn’t feel like a movie with it’s own specific identity in the way the previous Captain America movies have.

For one, I think it’s a little disingenous to call this a “Captain America” movie, when it was far more a team-up film than anything else. While, yes, the film did take a left turn around the second act to involve Captain America and his ongoing Bucky plot, there was simply too much else going on for this to really be all about him. In fact, with a huge chunk of the emotional arc and the actual plot of the movie revolving around Tony Stark (including some flashback sequences featuring a distressingly convincing young Robert Downey Junior), I half-felt as if I’d been conned into seeing the new Iron Man movie instead.

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And then, of course, there were a couple of other major characters introduced in this movie- Black Panther and Spiderman. Now, as someone with a passing acquaintance with comic books, I knew plenty about Spiderman (because he’s impossible to avoid as a pop cultural icon) and next to nothing about Black Panther, and I’m sure I wasn’t alone in this. The movie, however, decided to treat us to a ten-minute detour explaining Spiderman’s backstory, location, and powers, while Black Panther was brushed off with…two lines about what his suit was made from?

I understand that Marvel have a Black Panther movie to sell and don’t want to give away too much here, but they gave an uninitiated viewer like me next to nothing to work with, even though I very much enjoyed Chadwick Boseman’s performance in the role. It felt like a cop-out- a promise that I’ll get to find out more if I pay money to see his movie, which I pretty much consider cheating. They don’t have to give away everything, but slightly more than we got-especially in comparison to the time spent meticulously introducing Spiderman- would have added something, and led to me spending less time going “so, has he got superpowers or is it the suit or…?”

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On top of the time taken out of the movie to bring in these new characters, the film also raked up pretty much every other superhero they’ve ever put to celluliod in the last ten years- Hawkeye (Jeremy Renner’s slimy presence on-screen did little to improve his already pish character), Ant-Man, War Machine, Falcon, Black Widow, Vision, Scarlet Witch, and many more I’m probably forgetting, for the big second-act clash. Which was all fine and good, but felt like it was taking place in another movie- not the Captain America movie I’d been promised. In fact, much of the film felt sliced down the middle, with one plot dealing with the tearing apart of the Avengers (the plot I was actually interested in), and the other cobbling together a bunch of shit about Hydra and supersoldiers and Bucky’s past that felt strongly first-drafty while trying to string the two together with mixed success.

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That plot benefitted from a great villain in the form of Daniel Bruhl, who seems to be Hollywood’s stock ambiguously-European-antagonist guy for the time being, but even still, the film was forced to switch up the pace to whiplash levels by the third act just to get everything done by the time the credits rolled. Much of the time, it felt as if it just wasn’t time for another team-up Avengers movie yet, so they were just going to have to grit their teeth, roll up their sleeves, and get everything set up in this Captain America outing.

Add to this the fact that Sebastian Stan was actually required to act in this movie, and revealed quite unequivocally that he couldn’t, and the whole thing is only just holding together at the seams. In comparison to this year’s other big superhero outing, Civil War is pretty solid- but in some ways, Marvel were lucky to be following on from one of the biggest disasters the genre’s ever seen, because I’ve got a feeling we wouldn’t be quite so happy giving a pass to this bloated, confused mess otherwise.

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May 8, 2016

Sexy Costumes, Agency, and Video Games

So, in the last few days, I’ve been permanently ill, hungover, or both, and thus spending a lot of time in bed trying to find things to distract myself with. I ended up diving down a Mass Effect rabbit-hole-Let’s Plays, op-eds, you name it- and was looking at some pieces about the ME series as a feminist and/or sexist text (there’s a lot of interesting writing on this topic, if that’s your thing). And I also came across a few rebuttals to the accusations of sexist, pandering representations of female-presenting characters that ran along a familiar path of argument: if women in real life presented themselves the way these women did, it wouldn’t be considered sexism. So why is it a bad thing when women in video games do it?

This is an argument I’ve had many, many, many times with various people, and it usually starts with the criticism of something a-usually female-character has been dressed in. Since we’re on the subject of Mass Effect, let’s use their character Jack as an example. In the game, Jack’s outfit looks like this:

Which, since you mention it, is indeed basically a tiny bikini and a bunch of cool tattoos. Now, in the arc of the game, she chose to present herself like this for reasonably well-articulated reasons, and many people argue that since she, and characters like her, made the decision to present themselves in such a way, they can’t be sexist. They used their agency to just happen upon presenting themselves in an often aggressively sexual fashion. And yes, in real life, if someone were to make the decision to express themselves by wearing the outfit Jack wears, that would entirely fine/empowering- and in game, she is making that choice herself. But the crucial difference is that no characters-male, female, whatever- actually have no agency over their representations in pop culture. Jack has no say over what she looks like in the real world- and it’s interesting that so many creators choose to present their characters in this hyper-sexualised fashion.

I think it can be pretty easy to dismiss costumes like this,

or this,

as something that the character would really wear, based on their traits and how they express themselves in other aspects of their characterization. However, the key difference here is that-and this is going to sound patronizingly obvious, but bear with me here-they don’t have any agency over how they present themselves. Somewhere down the line- whether they started from the ridiculous costume and worked backwards, or found the skimpy outfit arising naturally from the other parts of the character they were creating-someone behind the scenes decided that the best way to fully get across this character’s personality was to put them in an explicitly sexualised outfit-especially when you consider that a lot of the time, NPCs will appear in one skin or costume.

That was how they wanted the character presented to the world. The character has no agency over the way they look, and you have to wonder why so many of these characters end up in hyper-sexualised clothing, chosen specifically by their creators. These characters may have been written in such a way that such an outfit made sense. There’s nothing wrong with video game characters who dress it an overtly sexualised fashion. In a vacumn. But when characters, and particularly female characters, are constantly and repeatedly represented this way, it’s fair to ask why. Why was that important? Weren’t there better things to spend time on that finding a way to justify throwing a hot women a skimpy top? Would the character been impacted in some negative way if she wasn’t dressed like that? Because that barely-supportive top really doesn’t look fit for purpose most of the time.

Obviously this isn’t an across-the-board criticism of the whole industry, but I seem to keep coming across it in my mild dalliances with the gaming world, and it gets a little annoying. It feels like these games are pandering to a very specific audience, which they are welcome to do- they are welcome to court whoever they want, however patronizingly and unsubtley they want to. But it’s ridiculous to pretend that these characters look they way they do because they wanted to. Because fictional characters don’t get a say in whether they get dressed up in the badass armour or the tiny bikini. Again.

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May 4, 2016

On Trigger Warnings

So, a few months ago, a couple of friends and I were discussing safe spaces and trigger warnings. One of them mentioned a post he’d seen on social media, which displayed an image of someone holding a knife to their arm, and he snortingly described a comment from someone asking that it be tagged with a “trigger warning” for people who self-harm. And then he saw my expression of apologetic “I’m going to disagree with you quite a bit here”, and realized it was going to be an awkward five minutes.

I know damn well that the concepts of “trigger warnings” and “safe spaces” have become a dogwhistle term for overly sensitive social justice warriors and all kinds of apparently swooning lefties who can’t so much hear the word “fat” without keeling over into a weeping pile of mush- or so most of the internet would have you believe, anyway. And I know a lot of you reading this may well fall on the “pull yourself together, you can’t be protected from every little thing that bothers you” side of the scale. And I know I can only talk about this from my own perspective (ie, dealing with self-harm), but indulge me a few minutes while I try to explain why these concepts are perhaps not the ridiculous pandering you might think they are.

As I have written about before, for me, self-harm is an addiction. Which means that it’s never really been something I’ve “recovered” from- it’s still there lurking away at the back of mind most every day, and I would say not a full hour goes by where my brain doesn’t shout “DO IT YOU PUSSY” at me. For the vast majority of these incidences, I can snuff out those kinds of thoughts pretty quickly, because they usual come from nowhere-there’s nothing backing them up and making them legitimate. These thoughts just sort of slither to the front of my head, and, finding nothing to hook on to, then slither off again a few seconds later.

Sometimes, I might be scrolling through social media of some kind- maybe even come across an article like the one my friend mentioned- and see an image of someone injuring themselves, or see pictures of self-harm scars, or whatever it might be. Again, most of the time, I can see this images and brush straight by them. But if seeing an image like that happens to match up with a moment or period of time when my brain is pushing for me to harm myself again, it’s like someone has yanked the concept to the front of my brain and nail-gunned it there. It’s hard to explain the singularity my brain locks into when I want to hurt myself, but it’s kind of the same feeling I get when I’m walking home in the rain carrying a heavy bag- that internal promise that it’ll be done soon, and then I can relax. I find it difficult to shake these thoughts without actually acting on them, else they just sit and leach at the back of my head for hours or days or weeks.

As I’ve said before, mental illness works differently for everyone, so some people who self-harm (or suffer from other forms of potentially triggerable illness, like PTSD) might find themselves absolutely fine looking at these images. Which is great for them. But for me, and people who react similarly to difficult reminders of things they’d rather not think about, putting a trigger warning on something isn’t there to pander to my agonizingly delicate sensibilities; it’s something that gives me the choice to opt out of seeing or watching or reading something that might tip my brain upside down. I understand that if you don’t find anything in particular “triggering”, the concept might seem like cotton-wool wrapping the world, and you’re welcome to continue arguing that it is. But for me, it’s just a promise that I get to choose whether or not to carry on my day like a normal person, and I appreciate the effort.

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May 2, 2016

Fifty Shades Darker Recaps: Chapter Five

Things are going to be a little quiet on the blogging front this week, as I’ve just moved house and everything is stressful and basically internet-free. I imagine Christian and Ana would be boggled to hear that I waited three and a half years to move in with my boyfriend, as opposed to falling FOREVER IN LOVE after two weeks and swapping various bits of product placement every five pages.

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So, we left off last week with Christian and Ana having the most boring sex in all of history, finishing up with Christian taking Ana to a salon where Mrs Robinson- his molestor- works.

Ana asks a staff member her name and who she is, and snorts about he being a paedo. Look, she’s right- Elena Lincoln (as her real name) is a real piece of shit for taking sexual advantage of a deeply damaged adolescent. Christian returns to Ana after an intimate chat with Mrs Robinson-

““You didn’t want to introduce me?” My voice sounds cold, hard.

His mouth drops open, he looks as if I’ve pulled the rug from under his feet.

“But I thought—”

“For a bright man, sometimes . . .” Words fail me. “I’d like to go, please.””

Yeah, for a bright man with a therapist, it seems really, really odd that he’s keeping around the woman who sexually abused him. Really, really odd. I know we all deal with trauma in different ways, but I feel like any good therapist would be like “NO, NO, GOD NO, GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER AND ALSO MAYBE HAVE HER ARRESTED, FUCK NO”. Or, you know, just any person at all with a shred of decency. Fuck, this chapter is so depressing, mainly because no-one except Ana seems keen to call Mrs Robinson what she is, and even then, it’s framed more as sexual jealousy than as genuine disdain for an abuser. But then, we know how Ana feels about abusers, right?

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Ana demands to leave (where did this backbone come from all of a sudden?) and asks if Christian took all his subs there. He replies that he did but that she’s the only one to know that the woman in charge of the salon took sexual advantage of him as a child. So…hurrah for sharing, I guess?

Christian gets an almost hilariously expository phone call, and reveals that Leila left her husband for a man who was recently killed in a car crash. Oh, and that she’s been granted concealed carry liscence with no background checks. Look, I know we Brits think Americans just run around shooting guns in the air willy-nilly like the Rich Texan in the Simpsons, but surely someone with severe mental health problems, a therapist, and a grudge wouldn’t be given a licence without some kind of background check? Either that, or phewwwww I’m glad I don’t live in the states.

We get this nonsense-

““Anastasia, Leila is obviously suffering a psychotic break. I don’t know if it’s you or me she’s after, or what lengths she’s prepared to go to. We’ll go to your place, pick up your things, and you can stay with me until we’ve tracked her down.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“So I can keep you safe.”

“But—”

He glares at me. “You are coming back to my apartment if I have to drag you there by your hair.””

Let’s tick off that threat of violence, just to get it out of the way, and focus on the main thing here- why does Christian want Ana back at his apartment? The apartment Leila has already broken into? Wouldn’t that be putting her in more danger? Oh, wait, this is all just about controlling her, right? Silly me.

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Ana refuses to go back to his apartment, so he throws her over his shoulder like a fucking caveman and goes to carry her. He eventually puts her down, and she starts fuming and making an internal list on everything he’s done wrong;

“1. Shoulder carrying—unacceptable for anyone over the age of six.

2. Taking me to the salon that he owns with his ex-lover—how stupid can he be?

3. The same place he took his submissives—same stupidity at work here.

4. Not even realizing that this was a bad idea—and he’s supposed to be a bright guy.

5. Having crazy ex-girlfriends. Can I blame him for that? I am so furious; yes, I can.

6. Knowing my bank account number—that’s just too stalkery by half.

7. Buying SIP—he’s got more money than sense.

8. Insisting I stay with him—the threat from Leila must be worse than he feared . . .he didn’t mention that yesterday.”

JESUS CHRIST FIFTY SHADES FAN, EL LITERALLY WROTE A LIST OF ALL THE ABUSIVE THINGS HE’S DONE TO ANA. Stalking, emotional and physical manipulation, exerting unhealthy amounts of control…how are you people missing this? Scratch that; how is EL James missing this? She’s WRITING IN THE FUCKING TEXT about how awful he is and how much Ana dislikes him. Remind me why this is a love story for the ages, again? Because he allegedly fucks her good?

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Christian reminds Ana that Leila has a gun now, and she forgets her rage in the worry that he might get hurt and oh God fuck off. They go back to hers, he forces her into the car and doesn’t let her drive, etc. Honestly, I used to get outraged at stuff like this, but there’s so much worse in this chapter alone and I’ve got dinner in the oven, so I’m trying to power through.

Christian mentions that all his submissives were brunuttes, and that Mrs Robinson put him off blondes.

“Did Mrs. Extraordinarily-Glamorous-In- Spite-Of-Being-Old Robinson really put him off blondes?”

Mate, come on. If I showed you a picture of my Mum, you’d rethink those words. I mean, I would, but too many of you would try to vault the Atlantic to get with her over-fifty self, and that would just be awkward when you got brutally rejected. Also, isn’t EL…not exactly young herself? What kind of bullshit self-hating ageism is this?

Christian reveals that Mrs R funded his business start-up with her husband’s money, because she was ” a bored housewife”. Tick off another tired female stereotype on the big board of things wrong with Fifty Shades.

Ana and Christian retire to his apartment, where Ana tells him she’s still mad for what he did. Then she goes upstairs to find that he’s purchased her ludicrously expensive clothes, specifically against her expressed desires. Not that Christian would ever do anything without her consent! For some reason, Ana refers to Christian as “Fifty” almost constantly in this chapter, and it’s jarring on me really, really hard. Maybe because these “fifty shades” she’s referencing are really just hilariously polar swings between furious and a walking erection.

Speaking of which, Ana mentions the clothes to Christian, and brings up the fact that she doesn’t want them. She also wonders why Christian wants her, when he had so many submissives who would do exactly what he wanted without question. He explains:

“”I am used to women doing exactly what I say, when I say, doing exactly what I want. It gets old quickly. There’s something about you, Anastasia, that calls to me on some deep level I don’t understand. It’s a siren’s call. I can’t resist you, and I don’t want to lose you.””

IT’S THAT TIME AGAIN

Yep, even though Christian ignores Ana’s express desires- everything from forcing money that she doesn’t want on her, buying her clothes she asked him not to, and coercing her into sexual activity she doesn’t like- what he actually wants is someone who challenges him by not doing what he wants. Even though he has repeatedly gotten genuinely angry- angry enough to scare Ana-when she doesn’t do as she’s told. Maybe the “fifty shades” thing is meant to reference ALL THE TIMES CHRISTIAN CHANGES HIS FUCKING MIND IN THIS SERIES. Franco, the hairdresser, arrives in a flurry of homophobic stereotypes:

“Franco is small, dark, and gay. I love him.

“Such beautiful hair!” he gushes with an outrageous, probably fake Italian accent. I be the’s from Baltimore or somewhere, but his enthusiasm is infectious.”

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Ah, those gays, always faking accents and being from Baltimore! Christian asks Ana if they can discuss their problems in bed, and she says no:

““Over lunch, then. I’m hungry, and not just for food,” he gives me a salacious smile.

“I am not going to let you dazzle me with your sexpertise.””

…she just told you she doesn’t want to go to bed, and you’re all, “nah, we’re goin’ fuck tho”. At least Ana has some semblance of backbone, even if she is basically going along with everything he wants in this chapter. Just her token protestations are an improvement. They talk about Mrs Robinson some more:

““She can touch you,” I repeat.

He purses his lips. “She knows where.”

“What does that mean?”

He runs both hands through his hair and closes his eyes briefly, as if he’s seeking divine guidance of some kind. He swallows.

“You and I don’t have any rules.”

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I really don’t feel like repeating myself again in this chapter. But they do have rules. Many rules. Just because they’re not written down doesn’t make them void. Christian wants Ana to do everything he says, but also defy him, and let him dress her and pluck her and wax her, but also stand up for herself, and eat when he says, but be an independent woman, and do everything he wants in bed, even though she wants a vanilla relationship. You’re right, though- no rules.

Christian tells Ana that touching is a hard limit for him, which is fair enough. Then she asks him about the fact he knows her bank details- and reassures her that it’s okay, because he runs these kind of invasive background checks on all his submissives. Remember back in the first book, when Ana protests Christian tracking her phone, but he excuses himself by saying that the technology is technically legal? This feels a lot like that. “It’s okay for me to do it because I’ve done it before/it’s not actually against the law!” doesn’t work. He admits that he knew she worked at the hardware store, and that’s why he came by.

““I don’t misuse the information. Anyone can get hold of it if they have half a mind to, Anastasia. To have control—I need information. It’s how I’ve always operated.”

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BUT THERE ARE NO RULES. NO RULES AT ALL. EXCEPT THAT ANA ISN’T ENTITLED TO HER PRIVACY. NO. RULES. NO RULES. NOT ONE. Fuck, this chapter is both boring and exhausting.

Christian tells Ana he makes $100,000 an hour, which is an amount I actually bark-laughed at because it’s so specifically and obviously a lie. Ana goes off to make some food for them, and dances round the kitchen to Crazy in Love, which is a song so, so much better than this book. Seriously, go listen to it, and remind yourself how much you loved that song when it first came out. Don’t think about Ana making an omelette in excruciating detail like I’m being forced to do. Don’t be like me.

Christian walks in, and puts on Nina Simone’s I Put a Spell on You. Not…Annie Lennox’s version? How rude, after she recorded it specifically for your movie. We get this-

“I watch him, enthralled as slowly, like the predator he is, he stalks me in time to the slow sultry beat of the music.”

Welcome back Robert Sheehan, how we all missed you.

They grope at each other for a bit, then Taylor walks in and he and Christian leave for the study. This chapter is so long that I’ve just noticed the stubble on my calves, and I shaved right before I started writing this. Send help.

They eat, and listen to some classical music that Christian can ponce over like Niles fucking Crane (truly, the sexiest man on earth). Ana goes and transfers all her stuff to the new computer, and Christian comes in to find her looking up “multiple personality disorder” online, BECAUSE THAT’S NOTHING BUT A GOOD SIGN.

No time to linger though, as Christian is handing her some lipstick.

“It’s harlot red, not my color at all.”

Yes, for lest we forget, Ana is a virginvirginvirgin and if she so much as wears red lipstick she’ll be sullied for good. It turns out that he wants her to draw on him, so she can know the parts of his body she can touch. I can’t think of anything funnier that drawing plastic-surgery prep marks all over someone’s body, but somehow it leads to banging and mercifully, the chapter is over.

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