The Cutprice Guignol

The Ninth Year: The Haunting of Swill House

Bloodline: A Season’s Review

With my computer fixed, normal service will resume shortly; in the meantime, enjoy this review of the excellent new Netflix drama Bloodline.

Insidious and the Future of the Horror Genre

I wrote a piece for VideoKrypt about what films like Insidious say about the horror genre.

thethreepennyguignol's avatarVideo Krypt

Insidious

If you’ve even kept half an ear to the ground of the international horror scene over the past decade or so, you can’t have missed Insidious, the haunted-house horror from the minds of James Wan and Leigh Whannel, the duo behind cult slasher flick Saw. I say this because I am someone with my ear permanently stuck to the floor (like that bit in Blair Witch Project!) and constantly on the look out for cool new horror movies, and when I saw the hype surrounding Insidious I swore I would see it as soon as I possibly could. So I did.

I think Insidious falls broadly under the banner of horror movies for people who aren’t necessarily fans of horror. The kind of people who might fancy a scary movie from time to time, but who don’t feel the need to terrify themselves into involuntarily bowel spasms…

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“It’s Just a Book!”: Examining the Influence of Fifty Shades of Grey and After

So, my apologies for the lack of posting in the last week- I’ve been snowed under with university stuff and computer problems, so the blog had to take a back foot while I caught myself up. But I’m back, bitches, and this week’s Friday discussion is about the classic defence for problematic literature- “It’s just a book!”

I was thinking about this earlier today when I came across the #SuspendAnnaTodd hashtag on Twitter. For those who don’t know, Anna Todd published a wildly successful One Direction fanfiction on Wattpad, which was later purchased by Simon and Schuester and turned into a real-life book series. Sound familiar? Yeah, that’s pretty much the same path as that EL James wound up on when she published Fifty Shades of Grey. And that’s not the only thing the books have in common- they both depict seriously abusive relationship, presented to the reader as romance. You only have to jump on Twitter to see the scores of fans starry-eyed over the thought of their favourite romantic hero, with hundreds of tweets about how they want their own Christian Grey, or how they envy and want the relationship depicted in After.

Let’s make it clear: I’ve already done numerous breakdowns on the abuse in Fifty Shades, and read the first book of After, in which Hardin Styles terrorises heroine Tessa with his violent posessiveness, bargaining with her virginity, and dangerous levels of jealousy. These are the kind of relationships which would be undeniably abusive if they existed in real life, the kind of relationships you hope no-one you know ever ends up in.

But it’s okay, though, because they’re just fiction, right? And the defence that gets thrown my way more than any other? “It’s just a book.” “It’s just a book.” “IT’S JUST A BOOK”. And on the surface, that’s a pretty good defence; after all, I watch the Saw and Human Centipede movies, but it doesn’t mean that I’m more likely to go rip someone’s head open in a bear trap or sew someone’s mouth to someone’s, um, moving on.

But the difference between violent media and books like After and Fifty Shades is that they’re not being sold as romance. These novels are being marketed as books depicting an enviable, if fantastical, romantic relationship. Here, we’re encouraging readers to read these books and go “yeah, that’s something I want for myself!”. We’re training them to see obvious signs of abuse as signals that someone loves you, which is fine in the world of the story where a writer makes it so the heroine comes to no real harm. In these books, the author has it so when the heroine loves the hero as passionately and meaningfully as they can, the hero loves them back (often not actually changing their abusive behaviour) and they all live happily ever after. Anna Todd and EL James direct the action from behind the scenes, making sure Ana and Tessa don’t end up getting physically assaulted or killed; in real life, where two women in Britain are killed per week by a partner or ex-partner, we’re not so lucky.

It’s reflective of the society we’re in that books like these could achieve such astronomical fame and fortune. And the thing is, I’m not saying that they should be censored or banned or that everyone who likes them MUST STOP READING IMMEDIATELY. The problem is that these books are fantasy being sold as reality. You’ve probably heard a lot about the romanticizing of abuse in books like these, and that might sound like a lot of hot air; after all, most people are smart enough to tell the difference between what they enjoy reading on the page and what they want in real life. But when you’re being screamed at from all sides that this book will save your marriage, fix your sex life, sweep you away on a romantic journey-by publishers, film companies, and every scrap of advertising that has leapt on these books (which includes, lest we forget, washing powder)– that line can get blurred. So it’s important that we keep shouting about the problematic elements these books have from the rooftops, not because people shouldn’t be reading them, but because we’re living in society where emotional and verbal abuse is swept under the carpet with a “well, he/she should have just left”.

It’s not just a book. They’re books so popular that they begin to influence marketing decisions, popular culture, and, yes, real people. Books like these, whose stains seep into every corner of the media (lest we forget, Fifty Shades of Grey is the fastest selling book of all time), start to instill the idea that if we or someone we know is being treated like the heroines in this book, then they’re lucky. If someone stalks us, acquires personal information about us, lies to us, manipulates us, ignores our boundaries and deliberately makes us uncomfortable, that’s love. The effects of abuse, whether emotional, physical, sexual, or an combination of the above, are long-reaching and sometimes devastating- and if we can convince just one less person that that’s the way they should expect to be treated by someone they love, then we’ve succeeded.

 

Let’s Talk About Trans Casting In Pop Culture

Well, this week it’s another jolly topic for the blog: transgender people in fictio. And specifically, why we continually cast men as trasngender women.But my main point of contention is this: why do shows and movies continually cast cisgender men as transgender women?

I’m talking specifically about two of what are arguably the highest-profile transgender roles in a while (OINTB gets a pass here, obviously): Jeffery Tambor in Transparent, and Jared Leto in Dallas Buyers Club. Let me preface all of this by saying that the performances I’m talking about are both bloody excellent and are worthy of all the praise (/academy awards and Golden Globes) that they’ve been showered with. But both the characters that Tambor and Leto play are women. True, the story in Transparent hinges around Jeffery Tambor’s coming out as a transgender woman, so there’s a case to be made that to accurately portray the process, a man should be playing the role. But Leto is playing a woman; regardless of whether she’s transgender or not, she’s a woman. It seems profoundly odd that we’re happy casting men as female characters (or, in more rare cases, women as male characters) as long as their transgender when it might be seen as a bit strange to cast, I don’t know, Evan Rachel Wood as Iron Man (think about it: it would work). While Leto does a great job in the role, it’s arguably kind of insensitive- in a world where transgender people and others who don’t fit within the gender binary are consistently misgendered or have their true identities ignored to cast a man as a transgender woman. It seems to show on some basic level that the filmmakers are tacitly agreeing with the idea that transgender women aren’t “real” women, because they haven’t chosen to genderbend casting on any other characters. The history surrounding Rayon’s gender in Dallas Buyers Club is apparently the reason that a man was chosen to play her.

But then you’ve got the more complex case of Jeffery Tambor in Transparent. As I mentioned above, we follow Tambor through his coming out as transgender to his transition, with flashbacks to his previous life as he came to terms with his true gender. So, I can see why they chose to cast Tambor in this role. But, at the same time, it boils down to the idea that this character is, and, arguably, always has been, a woman. In this bit of casting, we’re agreeing that a man can play feminine, but a woman can’t play masculine. The same goes with Gael Garcia Bernal’s highly-touted performance in Bad Education, where he plays both a pre- and post-transition transgender woman. Sure, it’s not that he’s not good, but once again the people who chose to cast him ignored the possibility that a woman could play both roles just as convincingly. If you need another example, take a look at the much-hyped Eddie Remayne performance in The Danish Girl; pictures released of him in costume as Lili Elbe, one of the very first recipients of a gender reassignment operation, and it seem so to boil down to this idea that there’s some discomfort around casting women in high-profile transgender women roles.

Thing is, I think it’s a good thing that we’re seeing more high-profile roles surrounding trans issues. That’s awesome. But there’s still a bit of apathy around actually casting women as, um, women, if they’re transgender. Don’t get me wrong, if a man is just right for the job and can depict the things that the filmmakers need them to depict best, then great. But if we’re doing that, then why aren’t we holding more genderless auditions that don’t let a character’s gender define who plays them? There will always be something really strange to me about almost exclusively casting men as transgender women, especially in post-transition roles. But I’m throwing open the gates here: what do you think? Have you seen any of the roles that I’ve mentioned, and do you think they could have been performed by a woman? I don’t have a particular answer here, so please jump in in the comments below.

The Unbelievable Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt

A bonus blog post on the excellent, go-watch-it-now Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt.

A Wanker’s Literary Reaction: Walking Dead Season Finale

It’s been a buggeringly long week, and it’s not even halfway done yet, so I apologise if I’m not up to my usual levels of blinding brilliance this week. I’d also like to draw your attention to the newly-added Blog Directory (just scan your eyes up a bit), which I’ve added to dredge up some of the long-lost blog posts and make them easier to find, as well as to make finding your way around the weird but well-I’m-sticking-with-it-now design of the Guignol. Now, on with the rant!

So, season five of The Walking Dead finished this Sunday. As you might have guessed from my increasingly bitter posts on TelePlayTime, I’ve had…mixed feelings about this series (oh, I’m going to stick a big fat SPOILER WARNING here for anyone who hasn’t seen the whole season but was still stupid enough to click on that link). The series continued in it’s quest to kill off all the interesting new characters (Gareth, Bob, Noah) while preserving the decent characters whose arcs have essentially nowhere else left to go (Maggie), or who the writers have no clue how to write for (Sasha- seriously, I refuse to believe that the great Sonequa Martin-Green is what’s stopping me from getting invested in the lazily-written OMG SASHA GOES MENTAL subplot), or who they’ve just thrown in to satiate the fans of the comics without any clear plan of how to make them a compelling part of the story (Father Flopsweat). After powering through the potentially brilliant Terminus plotline in a few episodes so we could spend a few full episodes with Beth almost tipped me over the edge, but then they killed her off and set Emily Kinney and her gorgeous voice into the wild once again, thank utter Christ (confession: a close friend of mine started watching TWD over the last few weeks, and she mentioned to me that she didn’t get why I loathed Beth so much. I vaguely remember explaining to her politely that she was watching the show wrong when I was pretty slammed last weekend. I hope that didn’t happen. Sorry Ellie, again). Then the team arrived in Alexandria, and Abraham got to say things like “Motherdick!” before he fought a pack of zombies and Noah got his face literally ripped in half and all was good again.

The last two episodes have left me with really mixed feelings, probably because I’ve watched them several times in order to write those scripts, and The Walking Dead is a brittle, brittle creation that tends to shatter into dust under any sort of scrutiny at all. Firstly, there was that abuse storyline, performed with some nuance by an increasingly impressive Alexandra Beckenridge (shout out to the American Horror Story peeps), as Rick positively leered over this married woman only for the plot to make his slightly creepy flirtation 100% okay because she was being abused and hey, it turned out she wanted Rick anyway, even though he outright states that he wouldn’t have intervened in any other situation, and it’s really just because he wants to get his dick wet (look, I watched that scene about four times in a row, and it was so creepy and grim that I just started making up my own dialogue, shut up). Tensions were building in Alexandria, or at least the writers liked to think they were. The incredible speech Rick gave at the end of the penultimate episode was the high point of the season, properly deranged, utterly beyond the pale, performed with violent gusto by Andrew Lincoln at his gruffest and most bloodied. It seemed to point to an explosive finale, as the tinderbox of plot machinations came together to create something that actually looked to be pretty good as long as you didn’t think about it too hard enough. It seemed like the death of a major, first-season character was near, and in fact, I went into this episode wanting a bloodbath of some kind, and some Lennie James for my buck.

And I got plenty of the latter. But the episode seemed oddly muted for a season that started out with Carol blowing the fuck out of an entire community and blasting her way in there like a pixie-cut Rambo to save her friends. They slotted a lot into place for the next season (which will contain an episode written by Stephen King- get it up you!), but the episode itself felt like a midpoint, not a satisfying ending. I was delighted with Lennie James’ Morgan, continually played with the kind of understated excellence that proved a magnificent contrast to Andrew Lincoln’s articulate descent into utter madness, and his encounter with one of the Wolves at the start of the episode was by far the best thing they pulled off. But stupid plot machinations got in the way of the show pulling any real punches- Glenn finds himself under a pile of rabid zombies, only for the show to cut to commercial before he could fight them off; he appears later, uninjured. We’re repeatedly told by Rick’s group how little the Alexandrians understand of the outside world, and how much they need to be educated and dominated by the incomers, despite the fact that they’ve created a functioning community that’s actually somewhat thriving given the situation, and Rick and company have basically failed to do anything close to that. I will never deny that this show has some awesome character moments and some superb actors under it’s belt, but it’s also in the habit of telling us one thing then refusing to back it up by actually proving it through actions. The jaw-droppingly stupid Alexandrian who decided to just leave a gate open, allowing zombies to wander in, was so dumb I flat-out refuse to believe it wasn’t part of some sort of ploy. And sure, we got a couple of deaths at the end- alcoholic wife beater and Hercschel 2.0 provided the dry episode with a little bloody lubrication-but I wanted the show to go out with a bang (or a bite). Specifically, I wanted to see a fan favourite go. I would have welcomed it- Glenn was surely ripe for the culling, and finishing off Carol would have been a great way to spark of next season’s actions and bring an abrupt halt to the Machiavellian-comic-book level of evilness they’ve been hurling at the incredible Melissa McBride of late.

It sounds cynical, and it is, but The Walking Dead has been hitting the same plot points over and over for the last couple of seasons- is Rick evil or good? What do you have to do to survive and also keep your humanity in a situation like this? Why do TWD writers seem so intent on mowing down all the black men in their show, except the boring ones?-and the best they can do is to present them in an interesting or shocking or exciting way. This episode kept things relatively muted, but simply doesn’t have the narrative clout it once did that would carry the quieter episodes along. It feels like the show has tried to pump itself into an early puberty, pushing itself to be something that the writers just can’t keep up with, and it’s straining at the seams trying to be the grown-up, clever, thoughtful show the people behind it so want it to be. And, until they cull a few of the overworked first-season characters, they’re stuck treading water with the same characters, the same relationships. The season five finale wanted to show that radical change was on the way for The Walking Dead, but all they proved is that killing off fan favourites is still far less acceptable than having mutilated, naked dead chicks hanging off of trees.

But goddamit, I’m still looking forward to season 6.

Fifty Shades of Grey Recaps: Chapter 16

Yeah, there was supposed to be a post up on Friday, but I ended up going on an impromptu flat-booze-up and having some of the darkest, most hilarious banter I’ve had all year. Things will be back to normal this week, and that firstly involves the trudge through the garden of earthly delights that is Fifty Shades of Pish.

Hey look, it’s that girl who plays Ana in the Fifty Shades movie-oh, wait, this is embarrassing.

We left off with Ana banging the fuck out of Christian, and the chapter opens with her lying on top of him, trying to touch his chest (which he’s said before he doesn’t like being touched). Now, I’m never going to back down over Christian being an abuser, but if I’d asked a partner specifically not to touch a certain part of my body and they did it anyway, I’d be a little bit pissed off. C’mon, Ana, don’t be a bitch. Ana asks him why she can’t touch him there, and he replies

“Because I’m fifty shades of fucked-up, Anastasia”

Been watching a lot of 30 Rock recently.

I feel like it’s important that you know this line was also in the movie, and I was almost incoherent with laughter after it. My challenge for you this week is to use this phrase in conversation and see how many of your friends laugh in your face and never speak to you again. I bet it’s 100%. Christian says that he gave control to Ana, Ana mentions her high GPA and how she knows that he’s not given over the reins properly, then Christian comments that she’s “Not just a pretty face”. Now, it’s something that struck me when I was watching Sex and the City (shut up, you don’t know) and everyone kept going on about how great a friend Carrie is. They kept up with this line of reasoning, despite the fact that Carrie is basically a self-centred, cruel, childish cow for the entire series’ run, but the creators had to get us to invest in her as a good friend.

You heard me, Bradshaw, you bitch.

EL James has to get us to invest in Ana beyond the fact that she’s allegedly attractive, so they have people announce to the reader how great/smart/funny/kind Ana is, even though we rarely see evidence for it outside characters announcing it like they’re in the fucking Truman show. We’re being asked to ignore her actual personality in favour of the one James has artlessly grafted on to a figure who certainly isn’t Bella Swan (hey, remember how these books are Twilight fanfiction but EL James threatened to sue people making fanfiction based on Fifty Shades? What a jape). It’s the same thing as when we’re told how much Ana and Christian like each other when they seem to find little to like past wanting to fuck and him being super-rich. They ARE in love, because the AUTHOR says it’s so, even if this wouldn’t pass for love in even the most clueless high school romcom ever made. Sometimes, being a writer myself, someone who knows so many incredible writers working round the clock to get their excellent, well-researched and fascinating books out there and knowing that EL James is probably rolling about on a pile of money and burning studies that show the abuse in her books is a thought more depressing that I’d care to contend with.

Something to cheer myself up.

Euch. Rant over. BRB wiping myself from existence.

There’s this:

“”Do you have something to tell me?” His voice is suddenly stern.

I frown. Crap.

“I had a dream this morning.”

“Oh?” he glares at me.

Double crap. Am I in trouble?”

Fun Fact: I am also covered in blood as I type this!

Do I really have to spell it out here? Ana had a dream (about Christian, in which she had an orgasm) and she thinks that she might get in trouble for it. A) The contract had fuck all about dream-screwing in it, and B) WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?! Why does she think a dream would get her in trouble? Why is he glaring at her for having a dream? Christian Grey is an absolotue, raging piece of arsehole and I will bare-chested battle to the death with anyone who thinks otherwise.

Presented without comment.

Christian announces that Ana needs to “sort out some contraception” because he doesn’t want to wear a condom any more. She stays schtum on the subject, and Christian decides to organise for his doctor to come round and see her. This is bullshittery as it is, and then we get this fantastic bit of fun just as Christian is leaving:

“Did you get me tipsy on purpose?”

“Yes”.

“Why?”

“Because you overthink everything, and you’re reticent like your stepdad. A drop of wine in you and you start talking, and I needed you to communicate honestly with me”.

DO I HAVE SKASGAARD BINGO YET

1. It wasn’t “a drop of wine”, it was several glasses of champagne. 2. If you have to get someone drunk yo get them to agree to talking about certain sexual acts about which they’ve expressed discomfort, that’s dubious consent. 3. DUDE, YOU ADMITTED TO GETTING HER DRUNK AFTER YOU HAD SEX WITH HER. I’m not saying this scene is a rape scene, but seriously, that’s fucking grim. Yeah, the thought of someone plying me with alcohol to get me to talk about stuff that makes me uncomfortable is making me all, well:

Christian and Ana banter some more, and she rolls her eyes at him. Christian pulls some shitty questionable-consent jiggery-pokery so Ana will let him spank her, and before we know it, he’s got her over his leg.

“…he hits me…hard. Ow! My eyes spring open in response to the pain and I try to rise, but his hands move between his shoulder blades, keeping me down.”

You have NO IDEA how long I’ve been looking for an even vague excuse to use this gif.

Here are a selection of phrases from the rest of that passage: “Holy fuck it hurts”, “I endeavour to absorb the gruelling sensation”, “this is getting harder to take. My face hurts, it’s screwed up so tight”. So, first, Ana tries to stand up after being hit, and he pushes her back down without checking to see if something’s wrong, ignores the physical indicators of discomfort, and carries on hitting her, before pushing two fingers inside her and declaring her wet, proof that she likes this. No consideration for, say, the sex they had all of half an hour ago? They fuck, it’s amazing, whatever. Honestly, I read this book long before I wrote these recaps, and I was never even remotely aroused by it; in fact, most of the sex scenes are best read with a kind of detached analysis, like reading a prinary source for history class or having sex with Paris Hilton . Christian leaves after rubbing some baby oil into Ana’s arse, which, by the way, doesn’t really count as particularly decent aftercare for a BDSM scene which is, based off Ana’s previous experience, pretty intense. Christian Grey is as shitty a dom as he is an everything else!

Vincent’s fake surprised eyebrows correctly surmise my emotions.

Ana is sad, so she calls her mother and weeps down the phone to her, because she’s having a subdrop and Christian didn’t stick around to really look after her. Kate arrives home, and notices that Ana has been crying and that sitting down apparently hurts her. Ana tells her that she fell over and hurt herself, because using an excuse to pass off the injury your partner has inflicted on you has never ever been a signifier of abuse. The only thing stopping me from burning down my entire building is the fact I found the full Infinity on High album on Youtube and am currently reliving my early teens.

YOU DON’T KNOW ME

Christian and Ana exchange some emails, and Christian tells her that if she doesn’t take some Advil he’ll make sure she doesn’t sit for a week, instead of a night. Thing is, a lot of the stuff Christian and Ana say and do to each other would be super-hot if it wasn’t framed in the story of an abusive relationship where neither partner actually respects the other’s boundaries. We know that when Christian says he’ll be sure she doesn’t sit for a week, he means that he’d hit her whether or not she wants it. I can be doubly sure of this when we take a look at the sex scene just passed, when he ignored all the signifiers that she wasn’t enjoying what she was doing. I know people will try to defend this as “OMG SHE SHOULD HAVE USED THE SAFEWORD IF SHE DIDN’T LIKE IT, HOW WAS HE SUPPOSED TO KNOW GOD”, but the fact of the matter is that both parties should be aware of the other’s limits, and read verbal and physical signals that might indicate that their partner might not be into things. C’mon, now, Christian.

Pictured: Christian Grey and his attitude to consent. How amazing would it have been if Michael Cera had starred in that movie?

 

Ana tells him she’s angry at him because he didn’t stay, then goes to bed and sobs some more. Seriously, is this book just fucking and weeping? Because that’s way too similair to my life for my liking. Christian turns up, despite Kate trying to turn him away at the door, and he and Ana have a discussion about the spanking. Ana says she didn’t like it, and Christian says she wasn’t supposed to like it. Look, I get the kinky sexy BDSM punishment thing, but surely the recieving partner should at least enjoy it on some level? Otherwise, you know, there’s nothing sexy about it and that person might be thrown into emotional disrepair by the fact that the person they think they love has beaten them in a way that they don’t like, just like Ana’s doing now. You’re all lucky that Thnks Fr the Mmrs came on right nowm otherwise I’d be fucking snapping my laptop in half. Christian asks how she felt about it;

“”Confused”

“You were sexually aroused by it, Ana””

Oh was she now? I’m for sure doing to start asking people how they feel about things, then telling them they were in fact sexually aroused by said action (“How did you feel about that tuna salad sandwhich, Ellie?” “Um, it was okay, I guess.”  “YOU WERE SEXUALLY AROUSED BY IT”. Apologies in advance to my friend Ellie). Ana convinces Christian to stay the night, and they fall asleep together. Hopefully forever. Tune in next week to find out!

A Wanker’s Literary Reaction: Houdini

Now, this week’s installment was going to be on Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, which was awesome and brilliant and had Titus Burgess in it (DID I MENTION I LIKED MUSICAL THEATRE), but I wound up writing that article for Popjunk, and I’ll link it in due course because I think it’s important that you know how fucking excellent that show was. In other news, I’ve decided to start sticking a “Watch of the Week” section down at the bottom of these articles, so even if I hated this show, I’ve still got some actually good TV to recommend.

I finally got round to watching Houdini, the History Channel miniseries about Harry Houdini starring Adrien Brody, which cropped up on Netflix a while ago and became something that I was saving for when I could really savour it, because it sounded precisely like something I would seriously enjoy. And there’s no doubt that I enjoyed it; it was also one of the most spectacularly shit attempts at a biopic I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing in my life. Let’s break this down.

1. The History

I have something to admit here: I’m currently three years into a joint honours history degree that I never intended to take. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed history in high school, but I thought I was signing up for modules when I was signing up for my degree, and turned up and sort of went along with things once I realized my mistake. Next year, I will be graduating with an honours in a subject I never planned to study at university, but stuck with for fear of causing a fuss, because I’m as British as they come. The one thing it did ruin for me, though? Houdini.

Do you want to know what they went with? They went with making Harry Houdini a spy for the American Government.

I didn’t know much about Houdini before watching this miniseries, but there was an immediate “here, naw” reaction when Adrien Brody signed up as a spy for the American Government, using his escape artistry as a cover for espionage. This is bullshit. As in, this is BULLSHIT. It was a theory put forward by ONE historian over ten years ago, who hasn’t backed up his theory with anything other than a message to an intelligence agency signed “HH”. This is a thing that basically didn’t happen. But it doesn’t end there! No, during his visits to Germany, Houdini uses a safe escape trick to break into the German ambassador’s office and steal the Schlieffenplan, which was a very real document that outlined how Germany would wage war against France and Russia by splitting troops across two seperate fronts. While this document would likely have been of interest to foreign intelligence agencies, Houdini didn’t fucking steal it, and he certainly didn’t steal it a year before it was written, as the show depicts. In his dealings with the Russian royal family, the Queen speaks broken English (despite being fluent), Rasputin is shown hanging around the family (he didn’t arrive till three years after the show had him there), and it’s common knowledge that Prince Alexi has hemophelia and that Rasputin is the only one who can ease his pain, which is why the Queen keeps him around, even though Alexi’s affliction was a state secret and not something they’d be discussing over dinner as the show has them do, and Rasputin’s reasons for being so close to the family were, likewise, closely guarded. MI5 turn up decades before they were formed. Houdini’s assistant, played by a wonderfully engaging Evan Jones, is shown to be from Georgia, as opposed to his real-life basis who was from England. They invented a conflict with his father despite the fact Hoduini spoke very highly of his Rabbi pop, and they even got the place he grew up in wrong. The writer of the first half- which was the most egregiously wrong of the two- apparently came out and said he took inspiration from the Guy Ritche Sherlock Holmes adaptations (which are execrable, but fine), apparently forgetting that SHERLOCK HOLMES NEVER EXISTED AND HOUDINI DID, and Stephen Fry’s backside wasn’t going to turn up anywhere to make everything seem alright again. The Sherlock Holmes series works because it’s set in a clearly pissed-around-with version of Victorian London, that features made-up characters doing things that never even became close to happening; using that as a justification for the pish present in Houdini is not that far from using Harry Potter as a reason to have Adolf Hitler shipped off to magic school in Downfall. If you wanted to make a show about an entertainer using his art as a cover for espionage, fine, but don’t attach it to someone who actually existed and didn’t do those things.

Jesus, I’m not demanding every single fact be checked by a thousand-strong horde of historians, and I know that things need to be compressed and elongated to fit a dramatic script, but this is the fucking History Channel. There’s a difference between artistic liscence and making bollocks up to fill space. You’d reasonably expect some people interested in history to be watching; maybe update your knowledge of history past what you remember from high school, eh? It might seem like a nitpick, but it became a hilariously distracting issue for me, and this isn’t even my specific area of study. It jars especially badly with the really well-realized and researched sections on his relationship with spiritualism and his strained friendship with Arthur Conan Doyle, and shows that yes, the writers do know their history as long as it suits their dramatic script. Twenty minutes of Wikipedia would have solved these problems, for Christ sake.

2. Stop Trying to Be Sherlock

I have something horrible to admit: I’m not that big a fan of Sherlock. I would never begrudge someone liking it, and I can see it’s a great show, but it’s never flicked by buttons for whatever reason (apart for that brilliant Baskerville episode with Russel Tovey in it). But it’s insidous influence has leaked all over television, with even Doctor Who absorbing some of the dregs of the show like a soggy biscuit (heh). Houdini so very clearly wanted to be Sherlock, it almost hurt; instead of letting us focus on the always-reliable Brody’s strong, slightly gamine, and uncanny performance, every time Houdini was unlocking a lock or getting punched in the stomach, we’d plunge inside his head (or, in some cases, spleen-seriously) to see how his fiendish brain was working things out. It was slightly interesting the first time round, but swiftly descended into crappy, repetitive showboating, especially when it so constantly interrupted the brilliant scenes of Houdini as an old-fashioned showman flogging his illusions to an amazed crowd. Sherlock is what it is because it doesn’t have to strain to get there; Houdini had it’s veins bulging out of it’s neck trying to prove how slick it was.

3. Kristin Connolly

Now, let’s get this straight: I dig the hell out of Kristin Conolly, who plays Houdini’s wife Beth in the series and who also starred in what is, for my money, the best horror film of the last five years (Cabin in the Woods). But instead of investigating her own interesting life (she worked in showbuisness before and after meeting her husband, and continued with vaudeville acts after his death), she appeared as nothing more than nag and a bore who was basically totally set against Houdini’s occasionally life-threatening acts, despite the fact that the real Beth was nothing but passionately supportive of her husband’s career. She did well with what she was given, but what she was given was little more than a shrieking harridan who’s mother didn’t like her any more because she married a Jewish man. Also, is Kristin Conolly contractually obliged to smoke pot in everything she’s in now, or what?

I guess the most jarring part of all of this is the fact that Houdini still had the potential to be great and indeed showed flashes of that greatness sporadically throughout the series. Houdini’s (real) deathbed conversation with his brother about his lifetime of fakery was powerfully moving, and Adrien Brody’s swagger and electric charm captured Houdini’s own showmanship and playfulness like a photograph. The lengthy exploration of Houdini’s work as a debunker of spiritual frauds was teetering on the edge of utterly excellent, because the show couldn’t rely on endlessly parading out Houdini’s greatest hits to tell a story. But, in coming so close to greatness, Houdini fell flat on it’s arse and I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone.

Watch of the Week: In better news, I did discover the superb BBC series In the Flesh which I will recommend to everyone sick of zombie shows who still loves the horror genre. Set in the aftermath of the aftermath of an outbreak, the series follows attempts to rehabilitate zombies with prescription injections and creepy contact lenses. Following a gay teen suicide victim (teenage suicide: don’t do it) as he makes his way back to his rural, homophobic hometown that’s still firmly in zombie battle mode, it’s sensitive, disturbing, and genuinely fresh. Go watch it!

Fifty Shades of Grey Recaps: Chapter 15

Yesterday was a wonderful day, because I finally found myself a comfortable, form-fitting leather jacket in a charity shop after literally four years of searching. I will wear that thing with pride all through the summer, even if it did mean I was sweltering all through this slightly warmish March afternoon whenever I nipped out for a smoke. So, it’s plenty time to ruin my week before it really gets a chance to get going with another chapter of Fifty Shades. If you missed it, Dakota Johnson declared those calling Ana and Christian’s relationship an abusive one were “uneducated”, a term that Fifty Shades apologists have been swarming over like a gleeful pack of wasps, and you can read my response to it here. Revel for a minute in the fact that I’m over halfway through this book, and let’s plough on with Chapter Fifteen. Oh, and as ever, read the rest of my Fifty Shades recraps (heh)  at the blog directory.

We left off with Christian declaring that he was coming round to Ana’s house, and he arrives with a bottle of champers as Ana inwardly thinks of him as a “mountain lion” stalking around her property-

Impossible to resist this, really.

This agonising conversation happens after Ana tries to return the very expensive books that Christian gave her (by the way, I only realize now that he had no way to know her address when he sent these to her, and the thought of the high-level stalkathon he probably went on to find it has just made my soul crawl back up inside itself and refuse to come out).

“I bought these for you,” he says quietly, his gaze impassive. “I’ll go easier on you if you accept them.”

I swallow convulsively.

“Christian, I can’t accept them, they’re just too much.”

“You see, this is what I was talking about, you defying me. I want you to have them, that’s the end of the discussion. It’s very simple. You don’t have to think about this. As a submissive you would be grateful for them. You just accept what I buy you because it pleases me for you to do so.”

“I wasn’t a submissive when you bought them for me,” I whisper.

“No…but you’ve agreed, Anastasia.”

Praise be, for the glorious Chris Colfer is now free from Glee! Also, rhyming.

Woah, woah, woah, where to start with this passage. Firstly and probably foremostly, when the buggering fuckery did Ana agree to be a submissive? I’ll admit that a lot goes on in between these recaps and occasionally I forget certain details of the chapter I read last, but I flicked back over the last few pages and nowhere did Ana agree to be his submissive. The contract hasn’t been signed, and in fact Christian said he was specifically coming over to discuss it further. Also, for once in her painful little life, Ana is right about something: she wasn’t his submissive when he got these extortiantely expensive presents for her. And since they make her uncomfortable, she has every right to not want them around because the submissive contract doesn’t pull any Back to the Future shit that retroacticely makes Ana Christian’s sub since the beginning of time, to the best of my knowledge. We’re not even one full page in and I’m already exhausted. It’s only afternoon where I am, and I’m already trying to tie a fiver round my cat’s neck and send her to the corner shop for some wine.

The next post may be entirely Bernard Black gifs because YES.

Ana tells Christian she wants to auction the books for charity, which is actually a pretty nice idea, but backs down once Christian starts pouting like the little git he is. He explains that it’s normal for her to have some reservations about their situation because “you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into”. Which is funny because A) I thought Ana already was his submissive and B) Man, I wouldn’t really want to be with someone who didn’t fully understand the extent of the possibly damaging sexual situation I was pressuring them to get into. The first is just bad writing (I feel like this book was editing and chopped and changed and chapters were shifted around, because there are wierd leaps in logic and such which flag that sort of thing up), the second is bad person-ing. One day, EL James is going to come out and announce that she deliberately wrote this book as a social experiment and denounces the abuse in it and we all have a great laugh and get smashed together and the fans of this series sit sadly masturbating in a corner over this abusive manchild and fruitlessly calling Jamie Dornan’s agent to see if he’s doing the next movie (mark my words, he’s not). Ah, back from the world of dreams.

All rise for FAWLTY FUCKING TOWERS.

They drink champagne, and Ana wonders if Christian’s deliberately trying to get her tipsy, the answer to which is yes, yes he almost certainly is. They discuss what publishing house Ana hopes to work at after her move, and Ana rolls her eyes at Christian, whereupon he threatens to take her across his knee if she does that again. Again, no agreement has been made, no real discussion of hard boundaries has been established; this is just a dude, threatening to spank his not-quite-girlfriend for doing something he doesn’t approve of. There’s no hint that he’d be doing it for his or her pleasure, or with her consent; just that he’s going to do it if she displeases him. Hand on heart, I glanced round the room to see if there was anything I could make a noose out of close to hand (there wasn’t) when I realized once again that this is considered a romance book. “Romantic” is the first word on the blurb on the back cover, for fuck’s sake. To the publishers of this novel, and particualrly whoever greenlighted the back-cover blurb:

You know, I used to really dislike Keira Knightley, but she’s probably the person with the most interesting career who starred in Pirates of the Caribbean, so there’s that.

They go over some more limits while Ana moves on to what, by my count, is her third glass of champagne. Obviously Ana has a fucking sterling constitution (except when the plot requires her to be drunk so Grey can save her), but three champagnes in doesn’t seem like the best state of mind to be in when discussing the hard and soft limits of your first-ever BDSM relationship with a man who “hopes you never have to use” safewords. Yup, we deal with that doozy later in the chapter, because safewords certainly aren’t there to protect participants from potentially pushing their boundaries in a dangerous or uncomfortable way, or even just to avoid basic physical injury, but for pish-posh people who aren’t IN LOVE when they begin their BDSM fucking. Considering that Christian admitted he hurt someone while they were suspended, I would very much fucking want a safeword thanks very much. The thought of my shoulder popping out halfway through sex because my sexy billionaire fuckbuddy ignores my “red” doesn’t make me all squirty in the nether regions.

Pictured: the opposite of my nether regions. PS never google search “squirt gif”.

Christian demands sex from Ana, on the basis that she accept his graduation present to her. And I want you all to take a big deep breath and all hold hands in a circle, because what Christian Grey has done is sold Ana’s car and bought her a new one without checking if any of that was alright. Yup, he didn’t like her old Beetle, and decided to scrap it for a red hatchback. Ana is rightly furious, but somehow she ends up apologising to him and he drags her back inside the house to fuck her. As she follows him up the hall, she begs him not to be angry with her, and tells him that he scares her when he’s angry. That line genuinely makes my heart ache, because I’ve been near (thankfully finished) relationships were one partner was scared of the other’s anger, and it’s an awful thing to go through and it makes me physically fucking sick to think that a woman being frightened of her partner’s temper- especially when that temper is bought on by his ignoring her boundaries and wishes- is now a hashtag relationship goal.

They get dirty (well, barely dirty, and we take a step back from the glorious use of the word “clitoris” that only took two hundred pages to turn up and back into the infinitely less sexy “groin”. Anyone else think of Hans Moleman’s movie from The Simpsons whenever they hear the word “groin”?), Ana undresses him, Christian lets her touch him with clothes on, She goes on top, she comes “shouting incoherently”,

And the chapter’s over. This chapter has genuinely been a depressing trial, one where the leading man has ignored his partner’s boundaries, pushed her to get drunk while they discuss vitally important matters of consent, made her uncomfortable with his displays of material affection, and then become so angry he frightened her.  BUT IT’S OKAY BECAUSE SEXY ORGASM TIMES. Urgh, see you all next week, I’m going to put my new leather jacket on and never leave the house again.

TERF Wars: Trans Exclusionary Radicals and Feminism

This article originally appeared on Witty Bitches, so head over there to join in the debate and support a cool new feminist website.

I think it’s time that we talked about TERFs. Anyone involved in the feminism movement in any kind of way will probably have encountered this phrase a few times before- whether spitefully thrown out as a way to dismiss someone’s opinions (“ignore her TERF trolling”) or as a disclaimer (“feminist, not a TERF”) but what exactly that acronym means- and what kind of implications it has for feminists in the broader sense- is a factor that’s often obscured. So let’s take a closer look.

First off, what is a TERF when it comes down to it? Like all political ideologies, there are a bunch of sub-sections that bicker beneath the main banner, but those letters stand for Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminist (and also spawned a million “TERF war” pun headlines whenever they clashed with the more mainstream movement). That sounds pretty self- explanatory-but there’s a lot of confusion about what precisely a TERF is. For a lot of people, it’s just a radical feminist who believes that trans people (specifically transwomen) should not benefit from or partake in the feminist movement, and should be denied access to women-only spaces (like bathrooms and refuges). And I’m not going to come right out and sweep everyone who identifies with this group under the transmysoginist or transphobic carpet, because I’ve read some interesting pieces by TERFs who vehemently argue against those terms, but I will say that a rotten bunch of people who DO identify as TERFs have been involved in pretty nasty behaviour. By which I mean, repeatedly and apparently deliberately misgendering transpeople, outrightly denying their gender, suggesting that lesbian transwomen cannot actually be lesbian, and saying some pretty repulsive stuff about the bodies of transpeople. Which is all pretty grim and unacceptable to most sane people, and most feminists.

But the real problem I have with it is suggesting that feminism is a girl’s club-specifically, a cisgender woman’s club. And I’m certain there will be TERFs who disagree with this interpretation of it, but that’s the way I see it. Sure, the majority of feminists who I’ve met during my lifetime have been women, but I also know personally (and know of, more broadly) a good number of non-cisgender women who are feminists. And that’s a pretty vital thing about feminism. Even if the movement is broadly focused on women’s issues because women suffer from the most systematic gender inequalities, it doesn’t mean that feminism is a movement for women’s power. It’s a movement for gender equality. Let me repeat that: IT’S A MOVEMENT FOR GENDER EQUALITY. As soon as you start excluding people from feminism on the basis of gender, sexual orientation or, well, anything other than the fact that their ideology just blatantly doesn’t sit well with feminism, the ground upon which feminism is built shatters. It’s vital that we call out those people who come up with tenuous reasons to try and stop people from supporting feminism, because by not doing so we’re tacitly agreeing that feminism is something that only applies to cisgender women. And that only they can participate. And that only they can benefit. And that’s bullshit, and I don’t like that idea at all.

Look, when it comes down to it, I just feminism to stop being such a dirty word. I want to throw window open and invite everyone to come and join the feminist party. Gender equality requires input from all genders, including those outside the gender binaries. If you can’t handle the thought of your little feminist clique being blown open to anyone who wants to join a long and drawn-out battle to end discrimination based on gender- whatever that gender is- than I’ve got some bad news for you: you might not be as feminist as you think.