Veronica Mars, season 4 (or the LAST season)

SPOILER ALERT.

I don’t think I’ve written here about Veronica Mars before, but I’m not going do a comprehensive review of the entire series. In fact, this isn’t even much of a review per se, but rather just a random series of comments mostly in reaction to Hulu’s fourth season of the much-beloved show.

Thinking back, it kind of surprises me that I even liked Veronica Mars to begin with…Mysteries weren’t really my thing back then. (I like them more now, but they’re still not my favorite genre.) I think I watched it originally on its debut during the last decade because the critics gave it a nod, and I paid attention to those things back then. What kept me watching likely had to do with Kristen Bell’s refreshing portrayal of the spunky, wisecracking title character. (A note about the wisecracks: it could be argued that a flaw of the series is that the dialogue is too well-written for the characters. People really don’t have a thousand witty remarks at their disposal to throw into any conversation, regardless of how many old movies you’ve seen and can reference.) This character was an original, not a carbon copy of a hundred other teen characters I’d seen on television.

But her male counterparts (with the exception of her noble and almost equally witty dad) all left something to be desired. Logan didn’t grow on you until later (though when he did, his schizophrenic sensitive bad boy was quite alluring). Duncan, the ex-boyfriend, was kind of a bore. Weevil was unlikable, and I wished he wasn’t in the show so much; I liked him more this last season than I ever have though. Adulthood suits him. Wallace was fun in a goofy sort of way, but that hair…And Dick was…well, he lived up to his name. His little brother, Cassidy (or Beaver—and why they ever started using that as a boy’s nickname is beyond me), was mysterious and cute, but we never really got to know him. The finale of season 2, which revealed the depth of Beaver’s depravity, broke my heart because I knew he was sad, and troubled, and I would rather he’d gotten help than take his own life. Leo was hot and charming but never got enough screen time. My point is, it wasn’t until season three when we met Piz that I finally found a male character who was my kind of guy, someone that would make me watch a TV show to see him every week. And yet I’d been there the whole time.

Needless to say that when they did the movie in 2014, and there was a big debate over who Veronica should end up with, although by that time I liked Logan a lot, I found myself on Team Piz. However, I knew from the fact that Veronica and Piz were together in the beginning of the movie that they would not be by the end. That’s just how these things work; no mystery here: if she started out with Piz, she had to end up with Logan. What I took issue with was how the breakup happened. Piz just kinda gets pissed off at Veronica for being busy and doing what she needs to do. That didn’t make a lot of sense to me. How long had he known her? But it was okay because, like I said, I liked Logan too.

It’s interesting to note that I’m at the top of a new page now and I haven’t really talked about the mystery plot elements that the show centered around. See, I liked the mystery plots, but the thing that kept me engaged was the relationships. I don’t mean sexual, just the relationship dynamics between the characters. (Yes, even those characters I initially didn’t like grew on me.) To me, that’s what anchored the show. I think that’s what fans liked the most. But it’s not what show creator Rob Thomas likes.

Enter the long-awaited season 4. It was a good season. It should be, at only 8 episodes long. The writing was still fresh, the dialogue crisp (except for the bad joke about replacing every cuss word with the word “cuss”, something that got old fairly quickly), and each character’s respective journey still interesting. J.K. Simmons was a good addition to the cast. I was disappointed that his character and Mr. Mars couldn’t reconcile their differences in the end. The pizza guy and his idiot band of sleuthers were annoying. The congressman’s storyline was intriguing as well as the Mexican hit men (although, as a rule, I don’t like hit men in film or TV).  The night club owner was a great reflection for Veronica, and I was disappointed that this ended badly. I suppose the original character who showed the most change was Logan, thanks to his therapy sessions with one of my favorite actresses, Mary McDonnell. Logan was almost dull at times in this season, but his passion was fired up when it mattered. It was interesting to see Veronica’s trust issues still getting in the way of her happiness as she dodged Logan’s marriage proposal. What a nice feeling it was for her to come to her senses by the last episode; maybe now she’ll be able to learn to trust others, and not destroy every good relationship that comes along.

Then, boom. Now, I don’t want to go full-on Annie Wilks here. I was never the Number One fan of the show. I didn’t even contribute to the crowd-funding campaign that made the 2014 movie possible, though I wished I could have. It’s been said that the movie was made to please the fans in every way possible, and so with the season 4 revival, Rob Thomas seemed to wash his hands of all that fan-induced obligation. You could even say that he flipped the fans one giant middle finger. Based on interviews I’ve read, he seems to think that everything about the show except the title character herself bogs Veronica Mars down. He wants her be alone. He wants her out of Neptune. He wants a strictly mystery show without the framework of relationships. Never mind that this was never what the show was. And my guess is it’s not what the fans want. I know it’s not what I want. Does an artist owe his fans anything? Well, you could argue that because of the crowd-funded movie that revived interest in the franchise, maybe this one does. As an artist, perhaps I beg to differ. An artist has to be true to his vision, or it just doesn’t work. But there are a lot of ways to be true to your vision without alienating all the people it means so much to. I think fans would have been willing to give Rob Thomas an awful lot of leeway, but he just didn’t seem to care, and that stings a little.

13 reasons why, season 3

SPOILER ALERT.

I have sort of a like/hate relationship with this show. On the one hand, it is engaging with mostly likable, sympathetic characters, and it attempts to address some important issues in a thoughtful and meaningful way. On the other hand, its good intentions are sabotaged by taking itself too seriously, being much more convoluted than necessary, and allowing political propaganda to infiltrate its plotline so that it seems preachy and agenda-driven.

I had many thoughts and observations as I watched the third season, and I wish I had taken notes so that I could remember them all. Maybe the easiest way to try and cover all that ground is go character by character, as it is largely a character study, and that’s the format of the show anyway.

The first huge problem was noticeable right from the start. This new character of Ani is brought in out of nowhere, but now suddenly we’re forced to listen to her nonstop ramblings, not only about how she’s suddenly an expert on everybody at Liberty High (and beyond), but also her philosophies about life, death, love, friendship, secrets, what a killer does or doesn’t look like, etc, etc, etc. Your first reaction is, “Who is this person, and why do we care about her?” And what’s really messed up is that this doesn’t change by the end of the series! At least it didn’t for me. All she did was butt into people’s lives and make them worse…except for Bryce. Her only real useful function is her role in Bryce’s life, and giving us that much-needed glimpse into his character, but I can’t help but think they could have found another way to do that. This girl was annoying and pretentious, and I wish she had not been in the show.

Some of the characters were throwaway characters this season. I really don’t remember much of Charlie from last season, and so this season, he’s just kind of around, and I don’t know why. Caleb is useless and boring; I liked Tony’s old boyfriend. Also, Cyrus had a substantial role last season, but was totally sidelined this season. The actor who plays him must have needed the paycheck to just stand around and not have a story. Zach also doesn’t have much of a story until the very end, other than honing in on Bryce’s former girlfriend. Chloe’s only purpose this season is to tell a pro-choice propaganda story about her tortured journey to an abortion clinic and being confronted by crazy Christians. As a pro-life Christian, I found this scene—and really the whole episode—somewhat insulting. And back to Zach for a moment, I just don’t buy the notion of him beating the crap out of Bryce and leaving him for dead, regardless of Bryce’s attack during the Homecoming game. It just doesn’t fit with his character. On a positive note, one nice addition to the cast was Winston, whose encounters with Monty reveal a great deal of insight into the latter character.

If anything, I would have enjoyed more exploration into Monty’s character. He was always just a bully before now, but here we see a little about his home life…and his homo life, however repressed it might be. Monty was just starting to break through his massive wall of issues when he was taken out…and then framed for murder. That’s not very nice. At least Bryce got more of a chance of redemption, albeit not by much. More on that later.

Justin’s story was the After School Special about drug addiction. It’s funny how judgmental people can get about addiction, which is really a sickness and not worthy of condemnation. “You’re using Oxy!” shouts the ever self-righteous Clay, as if Justin had committed high treason. A lot of people use Oxy, some of them even legitimately for pain. Why the stigma? In spite of that, it was interesting to see the intensity of Justin’s bond with Clay. I hadn’t realized they were so close. Based on some of the things they said to each other, one would expect Justin to cross over to Clay’s side of the bedroom, and cuddle with him through the night. I actually wish to have seen that!

Jessica may be my least favorite character this season (well, except for the angry man-hating Casey and her annoying “Take down the patriarchy!” rants). Running for student body president, she promises to eliminate boys’ sports. Well, in the first place, that would never happen (and she would never win on that platform) and in the second place, that affects many lives in a negative way. He stupid HO group’s decision to protest Bryce’s funeral makes them no better than Westboro Baptist. Her protest at the game led directly to the ruination of lives. But worst of all, out of all the characters who had a part in Bryce’s death, she’s the one I really believe would. I never want to downplay the serious and evil nature of rape. I hate it as much as anybody. But when the inability to forgive leads to murder, that doesn’t make for a character that I can continue to root for.

Like with Zach, I don’t buy Alex killing Bryce. I just don’t think it’s consistent with his character, even if he does have “’roid rage”. One minute he was trying to help Bryce and save his life; he had compassion and didn’t want to leave him there suffering. But Bryce says some justifiably angry words about Zach (and remember that just before the game, Bryce was hit with the bombshell of Chloe having been pregnant with Bryce’s kid and aborting the baby), and it’s into the water for Bryce! It makes no sense. And then he and Jessica just watch him drown. These are not the characters we’ve come to know from three seasons of this program. This is inconsistent. This is a case of the writers being stuck and trying to work out a plot that just doesn’t have any real logic to it. And what’s the deal with the steroids? Why did we have to have that Lesson of the Day, if we were going to be taught about the Evils of Drugs with Justin? I will admit that IF rampant steroid use among teens—even people who are not jocks—is a thing, I didn’t know about it. But let some other show preach that sermon; this one has enough baggage without it.

How timely and topical that the evil ICE swooped in and stole Tony’s family from him. Was this written by a CNN political pundit? I’m not saying this doesn’t happen, or that it isn’t tragic when it does, but it’s so obvious. The propaganda takes you out of the story. Politics poisons the well of creativity.

Clay was the same brooding, obsessive person he was in season 2. I really liked him in season 1. I liked his innocence. I guess you could say that this show is largely about a loss of innocence, but I would have welcomed some of that to remain a part of Clay’s character. This show is so humorless, but every once in a while, you get a very brief lighter moment, and it usually is centered around Clay and his social awkwardness, and more of that would have been welcome.

My favorite storyline this season was Tyler’s. After the finale of season 2, I thought that season 3 would be all about school shootings and that Tyler would be toast. (That may yet happen in season 4.) I was pleasantly surprised that it did not go in that direction. Here was a story that said someone could be saved. A person can heal. A person can change. Someone who thought he would always be a rejected outcast can have a wonderful group of friends who watch out for him. It was actually very touching, and half of my positive feelings about the show come from the way this story was told.

The other half comes from Bryce. How unexpected that the showrunners would choose to focus on Bryce and his humanity and his efforts to change for the better. To nearly every character in this show, Bryce is like the devil, the one who is blamed for everything bad that has happened to everyone else. He was the source of every vice, every trauma, every scar, and not to mention war, famine, and global warming. To be clear, he did monstrous things. But he was, in fact, not the devil. He was a human being who was very much a product of his upbringing, and when he realized the damage he had caused, he wanted to become a better man. This was a very interesting and gratifying story to watch. It’s unfortunate that Ani was necessary to tell this story. I liked Bryce this season. I truly cared about him.

Alex murdered Bryce, and Jessica was an accessory, and all the others in the “group” were obstructionists of justice. Oh, it’s sweet how this group bands together, but I would have preferred accountability, like they all said they wanted from Bryce. I feel as though the creators of this show would like us to give them all a pass. After all, they did go through so much. But I just can’t see any way that what they did was acceptable. If I trudge through season 4, it will be with the pained awareness that they got away with something horrible, and for that, I’m not even sure that I care about them anymore.

I also got very impatient with all the secrets and lies. If these people are supposed to be friends, why are they always lying to each other? Oh, it’s “to protect”. Right. Everybody’s keeping secrets, which is par for the course in mystery fiction, but with everything these people have shared, it’s impossible to believe that there would be so little trust. Well, maybe not impossible. Maybe just sad. And why are they all so quick to think the worst of each other? Oh yeah—because of all the secrecy and lies!

I hated the way the events played out on screen, in terms of the incredibly confusing narrative structure. We were always going back and forward in time, and within both timelines, it was very hard to tell the order of events. Did this thing here happen before that other thing? And how do the two events relate to each other? And switching the aspect ratio between flashback and present day didn’t help very much; half the time you didn’t even notice it had switched. (If we were all still watching the old square TVs, the difference would be more clear.)  

Lastly, for season 4, I suggest a title change. The title of the series was only relevant in season 1. And it was based on a novel. (I can’t help but wonder what that novelist thinks of the direction they’ve gone with it over the last two seasons.) It’s kind of like the sequel to I Know What You Did Last Summer should have been called I Still Know What You Did The Summer Before Last. (That’s not my quip, by the way; it may have been Ebert.) Perhaps for season 4, it should be 13+ More Ways to Exploit the Real and Imagined Horrors of Adolescence.

ELITE (or SPANISH TWINKS A GO-GO)

Warning: There may be spoilerish content here, but I’m not going to spill any of the bigger developments.

With season 2 rapidly approaching, I’m glad I spotted this Euroteen drama when I did; I can hardly wait to see what happens next. Elite (pardon my lack of accent marks in this article, as I don’t know how to employ them) is a Spanish version of tawdry adolescent dramas like Riverdale or 90210, except that it is a thousand times better. (Can we really say we’re surprised here? European vs American sensibilities?) It is also a very steamy, erotic program, more than the CW could get away with, and to be honest, it’s a bit of a shock to have teenage characters depicted in such a frank and, well, naked way. (One assumes that the actors are older than the characters they play, but they do have more liberal values about such things over there.) And one more thing worth noting: Every lead character in this series is beautiful, which is something I’ve never seen in my entire television- and movie-watching life. I kid you not. You really can’t avert your eyes.

So this is partly about class warfare on a teenage level. The elite are the families who send their kids to the top rated Las Encinas school, which looks like a big boxy office building more than a school. Another school, where the poor and ordinary folks go, has had a structural collapse that caused major injuries, and as an act of goodwill, three kids from that school were selected to attend Las Encinas:  Samuel is the most straight-laced, grounded, “normal” character in the show. He’s like a Brandon from 90210 or a Clay from 13 Reasons Why. When the series starts, you get the impression that this is his story, more than anyone else’s. That turns out not to be really true, but I think he may be the most relatable of the bunch. Christian is a cocky hedonist with a big mouth, which I think masks a deeper insecurity. And Nadia is a Muslim girl from a very traditional family. She seems stuck up at first, but as the series goes on, she is full of surprises.

The new kids are not accepted at first. Guzman is the school bully who really does believe he’s superior to these lower forms of life. (Incidentally, his dad owns the construction company that cut corners and caused the accident at the other school.) His girlfriend Lu is just as bad in her arrogance; she is a classic “mean girl”. Guzman’s sister Marina is one of the few people who are nice to the newcomers, but she is full of complexity of a sort that might make her more dangerous than the snobs.

Guzman has two best buds: Ander is an involuntary future tennis pro (pressured by his father). His secret is his love for his drug dealer, Omar, who happens to be Nadia’s brother. Polo is a conflicted bisexual who becomes discontented with his long-time relationship with girlfriend Carla, so they decide to add a third party to the mix. That third party is Christian. Things get complicated. Polo and Marina are the most complicated and troubled characters on the show, even more so than Nano, Samuel’s brother, who recently got out of prison and owes money to some thugs. If I would label anyone a villain in all this, it would be Nano. The brothers both fall for the same girl—Marina—and she falls for them right back. On TV as in life, these types of things tend not to turn out well.

There are several passionate relationships, and they are all fun to watch. Most of them are destroyed by episode 8. The sweetest relationship by far is Ander and Omar, and I don’t just say that as a gay man.

In addition to lots of sex, there is a ton of manipulation and blackmail going on here. On one level, these people seem to genuinely care for one another, and yet, they are not above threatening to ruin each other’s lives to get what they want. This isn’t only true about the spoiled rich kids. Nobody is immune to the desperate temptation to save themselves by screwing someone else. 

Like most teen dramas, this is rife with popular “issues”—class, drugs, HIV, homophobia, Islamophobia, teen pregnancy, abortion, coming out, and of course the constant struggle to establish your own identity against whatever your parents have in mind for you. But what’s refreshing about Elite is that the writing is such as to not seem at all preachy or condescending. It treats its characters—and its audience—with respect, and allows them to think for themselves. Are these kids in over their heads in their effort to grow up too soon? Of course. But that is the life of teenagers these days. They lack the maturity to do the things that they do, but they don’t care. It’s like diving into a pool when you don’t know how to swim.

I care about these characters, and that’s the strength of the show. As Janet Jackson sang, “They’re living in a world they didn’t make, paying for a lot of adult’s mistakes, living in a world where grownups break the rules.” They’re deep-down decent, but they do terrible things. They’re despicable, but they’re not trying to be. They are doing the best they can. This is the teenage world. If these characters were real, I’d pray for them.

13 Reasons Why, season 2

If you haven’t read my essay on Season One, please access the 2017 posts and scroll down until you get to it.

My dad has a teacher friend who posted a warning on Facebook to all her followers that 13 Reasons Why season 2 was not suitable for watching by teenagers (something about their brains not being fully developed to process the subject matter), and furthermore, not suitable for anyone. Well, that just made me all the more eager to watch it and experience whatever that scene was that is so dark and terrible that it bothered her and no doubt so many others. I even asked my friends on Facebook not to post spoilers because I wanted to have that raw, emotional experience. But I have very little will power, and in a matter of hours, I deliberately accessed spoiler info on the infamous last episode because I simply had to know what happened. While getting that spoiler info, I also read the show’s creator defend the scenes in question, and the defenses rang true for me, especially after actually watching it. Warning: This essay gives out spoilers; it is intended for people who have either already watched the show or do not plan to. Or if you don’t care.

For a good portion of the season, I kind of agreed that the show wasn’t suitable for watching, but for reasons of quality, not content. I felt like the first few episodes were unrehearsed and rushed. (I don’t do film or TV, but I have heard that there is a little bit of rehearsal for scenes.)  The directing choices seemed phoned in, and the acting bordered on melodrama. (There’s that overwrought scene in episode two where Clay slowly builds up to a tortured scream at Hannah, for instance.) And I was really surprised because while I had issues with the first season, none of them pertained to performances. In fact, I remember saying something like, “This is the next generation of great actors.” I felt like I was eating my words.

As for story, it was confusing. The first season had two timelines. The second season added a lot of other scenes that took place in various times, to the extent that you lost track of where each scene was supposed to fall in the overall chronology. You had to ask yourself, “Okay, did this happen before or after that other thing that happened?” And if an exchange between Hannah and another character took place AFTER the event described in that character’s tape in season 1, why wasn’t this info included in the tape? To add to the confusion, we had scenes that were not real, but imagined, and we had fake flashbacks told by liars in court. Sometimes it was clear what was real; sometimes it was less clear. And I can see somebody saying, “Well, that’s intentional because it’s supposed to be confusing for the characters to sort out.” No, having your characters confused does not mean you want your audience confused too, no matter what Christopher Nolan might say.

Then you have this running voice-over narration that works very differently from Hannah’s voice narrating the tapes. And what I mean by “works differently” is that it doesn’t work. You’ve got a character testifying in court—usually in the form of Poetic Life Reflections—and while you’re listening to that, you see scenes play out that don’t actually involve the character who’s talking. It’s clear that the filmmakers are trying to match the scenes thematically with the narration, but the narration only serves as a distraction. And it just keeps going on and on throughout each episode, stopping occasionally when we need to hear dialogue for a scene. Then it starts up again and you’re like, “Really? Is this person still talking? Was I supposed to be paying attention to what they were saying this whole time?” Every once in a while, there will be a kernel of real truth or insight spoken, and then you wish they had only included that and left out the rest. 

I’ve never been to a trial, but it is hard to imagine a more callous and insensitive attorney than the one hired by the school. All of these kids have been through trauma. She badgers them as if they all committed a rape, when only one of them has. They lost someone special to them, but she drags her through the mud, in front of her still-grieving mother. I know what they say about lawyers but it’s hard for me to imagine these court scenes playing out this way in real life. The school and the court would try to come off as sympathetic, at least. I actually think these teens would be treated more with kid gloves considering the circumstances. I could be wrong, but the over-the-top bitchiness of this attorney made these scenes really hard for me to swallow. The court scenes were the worst part of this season.

Some characters that I loved in season 1 (like Clay), I hated in season 2. And some characters I didn’t like in season 1 (like Alex), I loved in season 2. Weird. But now I’m starting to delve into areas that required me to watch the entirety of the season before they made sense and I could see the reasoning behind them.

One of the judgements I made about season 1 was that the show seemed to think it was all right to blame people for someone else’s ill-fated decisions. I judged Hannah for being so judgmental to her friends and classmates. But in season 2, you’re presented with the possibility that Hannah may not have intended the tapes to be heard by all of their subjects, and that this decision was made by Tony. Hannah wasn’t looking for revenge, only an outlet for her pain. And the revenge, gossip, broken friendships, lies, betrayals, violence, and all the other chaos that ensued were not what she intended. And you see Clay lashing out at Hannah with these same accusations that I had, call her evil and saying he could not forgive her. Of course, he did, eventually, which is good. And I forgave the writers of this show for a message that was muddled in season 1, but clarified in season 2.

In season 1, the characters were all kind of hot and cold, Jekyll and Hyde. They were good, then they were bad. Then with the sting of remorse and regret, they were good again. But in season 2, you see the characters as much more complex and nuanced. They all pretty much run the gamut in terms of morality, which is much more true to life. In season 1, Clay was the hero that you identified with, and you wanted to comfort his pour sad soul. In season 2, he is a completely self-absorbed whiner who really doesn’t contribute much. Until the end, that is. It takes him the entire season to snap out of his selfishness and see someone else’s pain.

That someone else is Tyler Down. A case could be made that season 2 is perhaps more his story than anyone else’s. And he isn’t really a very likable guy, and I think that’s part of the point. People don’t like him, which adds to his mistreatment by his classmates. Even we, the audience, don’t like him very much so we’re tempted not to care what happens to him. But some surprising things happen, and we are drawn in. He makes a new friend, Cyrus (a great character, by the way) and his sister, who he’s got a thing for. He has a taste of what it’s like to have a social life. But of course he screws it up because…well, he just doesn’t know how to do it. He’s used to being a loner; that’s all he knows. But you see these moments of happiness, and it’s really great. Which makes the sad things that follow all the more devastating. When he comes back after being sent away, he seems to be on a good track all of a sudden. He even looks better; the hair cut does him good. But the girl has moved on, and so has Cyrus. So now he’s alone again. Then the infamous scene happens with the mop handle rape, and that flips his switch. What switch, you might ask. It’s the switch that gets flipped when someone ends up taking a gun to school to go on a rampage. (I’m not saying it’s anyone’s fault, just like Hannah’s suicide isn’t anyone’s fault, but in both cases, a series of factors worked together to create the perfect storm.)

What makes this episode so moving to watch is that the students at the dance get tipped off to the fact that Tyler is on his way to shoot up the school. Clay, having escaped his own mind-prison, single-handedly goes out to risk his life, trying to stop him. And in the process, Clay admits that he bullied Tyler too (another gripe I had with season 1). He sees Tyler not as a potential monster, but as a human being, very much victimized himself. If he were to go into that school and start shooting, he would not be worthy of anyone’s pity. But until that happened, he was a desperate kid who needed help. Clay saw that. The producers of this show saw that. And it’s the only example of a show or film I can think of that offers this perspective. What a timely and much needed message: the idea that you can prevent a tragedy by being kind. In the wake of the Parkland shooting, I actually read remarks from people that denied this premise, a fact that grieved me quite a bit. 

If there’s a season 3, we’ll learn if there’s any redemption for Tyler. Redemption was a theme in season 2, but not really until the last few episodes. Clay asks a pastor if he thinks God will forgive him and his classmates, and the pastor gives a wishy-washy answer with not a single mention of Jesus Christ. Well, I'm used to that in our modern culture. In other news, guidance counselor Porter is totally redeemed in season 2; I liked him a lot here. Justin is both rescued and redeemed by Clay’s family, but it will be interesting to see how his continued drug use will complicate those new and vital relationships. Alex suddenly seems like a real person in season 2, though his constant declarations that he’s “broken” get tiresome. I love his developing bromance with Zach. The scene in the locker room where they fight and then Alex gets a boner is probably my favorite scene in the season. I have no illusions about Alex being gay or even bisexual, but it will be interesting to see what happens when he finds out about Jessica’s betrayal in the locker room with Justin during the dance.

This show would be stronger and better if there were more happy moments like the Alex/Zach and Tyler/Cyrus friendship scenes. I know we’re doing Important Teen Drama, and teen’s lives are supposed to be so dramatic. But if every page in your story is sad, your audience can get bored with that one note. What would happen if next season, you had all the same characters, but they were relatively stable, dealing with regular teenage stuff, people laughed a lot, and the whole world wasn’t at stake?

Thoughts on The 100 (seasons 1-4)

This random collection of musings must carry the standard Spoiler alert. This is not a review, and my thoughts are not structured or coherent, but more like I’m sitting across the table from you with a margarita just rambling about the show.

Clarke is definitely the hero of the show until the end of season 2. After that, it changes. All of her actions up to that point are inarguably noble (unless I’m forgetting something), but even if you think pulling the radiation switch and killing the residents of Mt. Weather to save her people was the right thing to do, you can’t really call it nobility. You can’t call it the act of a hero. (Just like I refuse to call Harry Truman a hero for nuking the Japanese in WWII.) After this, you don’t really root for her anymore. You may want her to be okay and to make the right decisions, but she is now morally compromised in the same way that Jaha and Kane were from their stints as “gods” of the Ark. Yes, I say “gods” because one of the Big Themes of this show is “who has the right to decide who gets to live and die?” On a personal level, it’s an affront to me as someone who doesn’t even believe in the death penalty. “What is the cost of survival?” is another way to phrase it. And there are so many ways you could explore that. Are the writers talking about nationalism and “America First” versus globalism as immigrants fight to enter our country for a better life, or even survival?  If so, one wonders—based on the decisions made by the show’s “heroes”—what the producer’s stance on these issues would be if they take an honest look at their political beliefs next to the values they espouse in their program. And yes, to be clear, I do believe that writers have an agenda. These show-runners are not neutral. Entertainment is more than just that (well, not all, but any real genuine storytelling with compelling characters and themes); it is messaging. But the messaging in this show is muddled…and not in the good way that reflects life’s complexities, but rather, in a way that reveals inconsistencies in writing, in characterization, in “what exactly am I supposed to be taking away from this?”

Bellamy changes a lot in the show. So does Murphy. But in both cases, it’s inconsistent. Hero or monster? Yes, people are complex, and they are both good and evil, but here, I think the writers just can’t decide. Jaha is a mess of confused characterization. What I’m not clear on is when did Jaha first get under the influence of A.L.I.E.? Because his behavior leading up to the discovery of the “City of Light” was pretty freaky and cult-like. I mean, when he threw two of the boys off the boat to be eaten by that sea creature? One minute he’s noble, and the next minute, he’s pure evil. He uses real wisdom to give the Arkadians motivation to repair the ark by suggesting a lottery, then later—in a move that is completely counter-intuitive to Clarke’s character development—conspires with Clarke to keep all grounders out of the bunker. It makes no sense. And Luna…what a wasted opportunity that was. She was a fascinating character, very different from anyone else in any clan, a peace-lover, converted from savagery. But for the sake of a banal plot point (the Hunger Games style death-match at the end of season 4), they throw it all away. She’s given up on her humanity, and on everyone else’s too. But wait, that sounds familiar. It sounds kind of like someone else we know. Oh yeah! It sounds like Jasper.

Jasper was like the soldier who never enlisted, the kid who got drafted to the Vietnam or some other pre-all-volunteer-military war but who never had any business on a battlefield because he didn’t have the right psychological make-up. His coping mechanisms were his humor and innocence, neither of which could survive the harsh realities on the ground. Besides being an actual kid, he was a kid at heart and probably always would have been had he not seen the tragedy that he did. His humor was an essential contrast to the always-weighty and somewhat overwrought drama. Since he was my favorite on the show, I try to look for a Purpose for the writers giving him the fate they did. I knew very early on from looking at YouTube videos that he eventually died, and season 4 was torture because you could see it happen in slow motion. He started dying after Mt. Weather. You could say he started in the first episode after being attacked by grounders, but I don’t think so. He died of a broken heart. The actor who played him talked about PTSD and going to some “dark places” to find the role. So I get that depression exists, and it would certainly exist in a post-apocalyptic world of kill-or-be-killed survivalism. Jasper liked having A.L.I.E. as it took away his psychological pain just as it took away Raven’s physical pain. A.L.I.E. was a drug just like alcohol and those weird berries he eventually overdosed on. So from a storytelling standpoint, there’s nothing nonsensical about Jasper’s journey and where it took him. I just wish it hadn’t ended the way it did because hope is as important as survival (in fact, it’s a necessary ingredient) and to show someone recovering from these wounds instead of succumbing would have been just as strong of a message, and the show would not be without one of its most interesting characters. What disappoints me most as a fan of the character is that, in his process of giving up on life, he encouraged others to do the same, like some Jim Jones-esque cult leader, telling his follows to drink the Kool-Aid. We already had Jaha for that. And that’s a lousy thing for show-runners to do to a beloved character and his fans.

A lot of people like Octavia. The interesting thing about her is that she is basically clay. She spent so much time under the floor that when she was finally among other human beings, she was the most impressionable person there. The first guy she ever liked was a potter who molded her into the perfect Trikru warrior. You could argue that she became strong-minded and heroic with the influence of Indra (one of my favorite grounders), but she is still a product of that foreign influence, as strange as the indoctrination of the A.L.I.E. cult. And what can you say of this “love affair” with Lincoln? So many of her actions are based on her devotion to him, but the writers of the series never really bothered to show their so-called “relationship” very much. Don’t believe me? Go back and watch for yourself. There’s really almost nothing there. There are very few scenes with Octavia and Lincoln. What was the basis of this great “love”? If you’re going to have something like that be so influential on a character, you need to show us a little more to make it believable. I was actually more moved by the brief time Octavia spent with Ilian than with Lincoln. And that, by the way, was another good character thrown away in the series’ obsession with excessive violence. (And seriously, why does there have to be so much bloodshed on this show? At some point, you just get numb to it.)

Don’t get me started on Monty killing his mother. That did not have to happen. And honestly, I don’t think he would have recovered. Ever. I know I’m not the writer, I didn’t create the character, but seriously, that’s messed up.

Then there was the ever-so-slight gay story of Miller and Bryan, the latter of which was played by one of my favorite twink actors. This series spent all of its gay currency on Clarke’s lesbian relationships, which is annoying to me as a gay viewer. Not really much more to say about that. Except that I’m glad not to have had to see Kane and Jaha lift Bryan’s drugged, sleeping body from the bunker to suffer Praimfaya because he didn’t qualify for Clarke’s social Darwinesque eugenics-approved List.

But on the other hand, this is one of the weaknesses of the show. The series pays lip service to moral complexity and guilt, but refuses to implicate its audience in its own bloodlust. We don’t see the children of Mt. Weather getting killed by radiation. We just know it happened. We don’t see Lexa’s intended predecessor Aden’s severed head, so Clarke has to say his name to make sure we know he was murdered. We don’t see the faces of the 100 who are carried out to their fiery deaths at the end of season 4, particularly if they were characters that we knew and cared about. To do this might make viewers weary of the show’s violence, and ratings could suffer. Better not to have to think too much on these things. It’s lip service, a perfunctory temporary guilt trip, and then move on.

All in all, I think the character that I respect the most is Raven. She’s the one I’d most want beside me, and who I’d be most likely to want to support.

Other character notes: Pike was horrible, but I did admire the flashback episode that showed him on the Ark in space, assigned the thankless task of preparing the 100 for their journey to the ground. You get to see that he’s not all bad, that he really cares for his people…before Octavia stabs him through the heart, an act of senseless vengeance that is only challenged briefly by Kane. Raymond Berry played the president of Mt. Weather. He is a wonderful, seasoned actor who I always love to see whenever he shows up in something. I was really sorry to see him shot by Clarke. Finn was another character who changed rather quickly and inexplicably. Again, trauma does weird things to people, but when he unleashed the machine gun on that village, I just didn’t really believe it. It didn’t track for me. It was a means to an end for the story plotters. Jasper’s Mt. Weather girlfriend was another example of a relationship that was supposed to mean a lot, but that we don’t see enough of to really make it real. So the whole weight of that had to be carried by Devon Bostick who no-doubt had to make up scenes between Jasper and his love to justify his tremendous grief.

From most of what I’ve written, it probably sounds like I dislike the show, but if that were the case, I certainly would not have watched it for this long. And I’ll watch it, probably, until it ends. But if I like a show, that makes it all the more frustrating when writers and producers do dumb things. “I could have made this better”, you think.

Final note: Kane likes to say, “We’ll find our humanity again.” It will be interesting to see, by the show’s end, if that really happens and to what extent.

Walking Out (2017)

Under the big sky of Montana, a father and son walk across some of the most beautiful terrain on God's Earth. Towering snow-capped mountains, barren winter trees, rivers that seem like they are the most clear, clean and pure anywhere. But the land is as dangerous as it is beautiful, as are the creatures with whom our strong-yet-frail protagonists share it.

Here is another wilderness survival story that might remind you of either Jack London or Grizzly Adams, depending on your level of tolerance for vicariously roughing it. Its stars are Matt Bomer and Josh Wiggins, two actors who are as good looking as the scenery, which is unusual for this type of film. And yet, somehow they seem to belong, in the same way that the slick photography seems fit for a Montana tour video or a prize-winning feature in National Geographic. From the first frame to the last, it is a feast for the eyes. All of this lures the viewer in, like a hunter's bait, making you feel at ease, even though you know there are tough times ahead.

Cal (Bomer) is a life-long mountin man. His father (Bill Pullman) was a mountain man. His father's father was probably also a mountain man. Cal's son, David (Wiggins)...not so much. He lives with his mother in Texas and sees his father about once a year. Every year he goes up and experiences a taste of what his father calls heaven. He learns some hunting and survival tips, bird calls, etc. Then he goes home and forgets what he leaned. But this time will be differet, his father determines. "This year, you make your first kill."

Initially, David is a little bit like I think I would be in that situation: homesick, out of my element, glued to my phone. There are moments of disconnect and awkwardness between father and son, but not as many as you might expect. What's very clear from the onset is that these two love each other, in spite of their differences, and they're not out to make each other miserable. Cal has a deep desire to share his heritage with his son. And unlike most movie teens, David doesn't take until the film's end to realize and appreciate the importance of this, and he soon comes aboard his dad's plan, wanting to please him.

Once the two commit to this adventure, tensions seem to lift, and they enjoy some thoughtful, sometimes funny, father/son time. Cal tells David about his own father, and the important lesson he learned in his first big hunt. In the shelter of a sheepman's hut one night, the boy has a startling moment of introspective uncertainty when his dad looks him in the eyes and asks him what he really knows about life. This further propels David's desire to learn from his old man so that he may have something to pass on to another generation.

In daylight, hunting begins in earnest, and adventure leads to misadventure. Cal gets critically injured and David must use all his strength and what he has learned to get his father out and save both of their lives. Here is where you might expect to see some of the familiar survival movie tropes that you've seen before, and you kind of do, except that it's somehow...different. The stakes have never felt this high in other movies, and yet there is a calm and measured determination with which these two men (because yes, the boy is quickly becoming a man now) deal with this life-or-death struggle. And as the two slowly--ever so painfully slowly (for them, not the audience)--make their way toward rescue, there is a true bonding between father and son that never would have happened if this crisis had not fallen upon them. From now on, their lives and their relationship are changed forever.

I watched this film with my dad, and it was impossible not to think of our own relationship while watching this film. I thought of the things we have in common, and the things we don't. I thought about times of closeness and other times of distance. But mostly, I thought about the unconditional bond of love between fathers and sons, between family members. I realized that not eveyone is blessed with this, and I felt grateful.

Walking Out was filmed entirely in Montana by Montana natives Alex and Andrew Smith, based on a much beloved story by David Quammen, with amazing cinematography by Todd McMullen. Point of trivia: Wiggins knew that his character would have to carry Bomer's character on his back for much of the film. He thought there would be a dummy, but there wasn't. The young actor is stronger than he looks.

This poignant film is available is select theatres (possibly not ever Portland) and VOD. Thank heaven for VOD.

American Crime season 3

The key to handling disappointment is managing expectations. Nobody gets it right all the time. I was so in love with the previous season of John Ridley’s Emmy-winning series that I assumed I’d be in for a real treat with season 3. But while there is some merit (it would be hard for Ridley to completely misfire), the season is kind of a mess, and not even a hot one, but rather lukewarm.

The third season takes on abuse and exploitation in its many forms. We have migrant workers on a tomato farm who have to live a dozen people to a trailer, an environment rife with peril. They don’t get paid enough to ever move on because they have to pay for their lavish accommodations, food, and “health care” (sometimes illegal drugs) out of their low wages. Oh, they’re also beaten, overworked, raped, and worse. Being a migrant worker is no picnic. Take that, Mr. President.

The tomato farm featured here has been run by an old man who is now on his death bed. It has been taken over by his oldest daughter, a mean-spirited, manipulative control freak, completely devoid of empathy. When the wife of one of the farm owners, Jeanette (perennial favorite Felicity Huffman), starts to ask questions about the welfare of the workers, she is utterly dismissed and made to feel worthless.

I mentioned drugs before.  Several characters, including Coy, played by last season’s Connor Jessup, are addicted, and this addiction is used as a means of control. (And boy, did I want to see more of Jessup in this, but he was really a more supporting actor here.)

Another form of exploitation is human trafficking and prostitution. Dedicated and caring social worker Kimara (played by Regina King, who won Emmys the last two years for her roles on American Crime) tries very hard to get young men and women out of this lifestyle before they end up dead or in jail, but for her, it’s always two steps forward, one step back. On top of that, she is having fertility treatments to have that baby she’s always wanted. This probably explains her motherly instinct. She is certainly the most likable character in the show this season.

Then there is the French Haitian nanny, Gabriella—played with heartbreaking brilliance by newcomer Mickaelle Bizet—who was brought to America by an extremely unhappy couple (Lili Taylor and Timothy Hutton) to watch their son and to be abused. Taylor’s character is very enigmatic…probably too much so…and Hutton’s character is simply monstrous.

Most of these stories are snapshots with little air time. Much is hidden in terms of what actually happens, with whom, and why. There doesn’t seem to be much reason for this. A sense of mystery? I call it a sense of confusion. The season is only 8 episodes long instead of 10 or 11, like before. Thus, there is little time for story and character development. Every story feels disjointed, in spite of the fact that there is a loose thread running through each. The story of the migrants only takes up the first 4 episodes, while the nanny’s story picks up in its absence for the second half. We get Kimara’s and Jeanette’s stories through all 8 episodes, perhaps because of the popularity of the two actresses, but only Kimara’s story is engaging to watch. Jeanette is a doormat who tries for about a second to become an independent woman, but ends up caving in the end.

Perhaps the most emotional story is that of Luis Salazar, played by Benito Martinez, a Latin American immigrant who has come to look for his missing son. When that story is resolved in what is really the most intense moment in the series during episode 4, everything that comes after is anticlimactic.

This season’s themes are overtly political. This is a contrast to what has come before in the series. Instead of telling a gripping story with amazing, relatable characters and letting the audience make up its own mind, the producers have taken it upon themselves to educate the privileged white patriarchy. In doing so, they have reduced the show from something exceptional to something common.  

13 Reasons Why (or 13 Exercises in Guilt)

I don’t often get people wanting to share and discuss pieces of drama with me. That’s actually one of my great Life Disappointments. There are things I have a passion for, but few people in my life—if any—tend to share those passions. (For those who failed to jump on my American Crime train, you’re vindicated somewhat; season 3 was a complete disaster.) Then once in a blue moon, people see something and it reminds them of me, and they want to have that mutual catharsis. It’s so rare that I can’t turn it down. Several people came to me about 13 Reasons Why, and even my great-niece seemed interested in seeing what I thought, which was kind of cool. So here we go.

When I entered film school back in 2006, one of the first things that came out of a teacher’s mouth to her students was, “Don’t do any projects about the topic of suicide.” I was taken aback by this because it seemed insensitive to ban a subject that so many people care so much about. No explanation was given that I can recall, but with further reflection, I realized a possibility. The sad truth is, it’s not uncommon for young people to think about suicide. There are varying degrees of severity, from philosophical contemplation to thoughtful ideation to actual intent. But I think it’s safe to say that this topic is a road well traveled by teens and young adults. So it’s hard to add anything new and meaningful to the discourse. If you don’t do it well, you subject yourself to harsh criticism, even mockery by people who question your sincerity. I had an awful experience in one of my scriptwriting classes in which I did write about The Forbidden Topic after someone I knew from work killed himself. I was struggling to find ways to deal with it, and trying to use my writing to help. But when it was read in class, it was laughed at and completely misunderstood, bitterly reminding me of that first rule that I heard on my first day of classes. Now I think the prohibition (or maybe that’s too strong a word, maybe “discouragement” is better) of the subject was because the school didn’t want to deal with any complicated situations that might arise from a student using their creative skills to cry out for help. Students are just cash machines to these schools.

Of course there have been some good films made about suicide. One is Permanent Record (1988), one of Keanu Reeves’ first efforts. Prayers for Bobby (2009) is a good one as it relates to a Christian teen trying to reconcile his faith with his homosexuality. Oh, and it’s a true story. It’s got Sigourney Weaver, so you should check it out if you haven’t. There are also bad movies about suicide. Heathers turns the whole thing into a rather tasteless joke (and people don’t get why I don’t like it.) But there isn’t a lot out there that really addresses this can of worms in a way that is not perfunctory and superficial.

The best thing about 13 Reasons Why is that it’s got the balls to tackle what is actually a difficult subject in a very thoughtful and provocative way. It asks tough questions and forces the viewer to engage with its subject matter and draw their own conclusions. It is flawed, and I’ll get to that in a bit, but I do feel that the producers of this show have tried to do something positive for humanity; it’s not just another cynical exploitation of our culture’s current biggest cash cow, the Young Adult market. They try hard to get it right, and they do not succeed in every aspect, but they do succeed in some.

The acting is top notch. This is really the next generation of great actors that we’ll be seeing a lot of in the future. There are many key players, but two primary ones are the central focus: Hannah (Katherine Langford), the girl who killed herself but not without making 13 tapes explaining her reasoning and who she blames for her fate, and Clay (Dylan Minnette, who was also a “Clay” many years ago in Holly Hunter’s crime series, Saving Grace; I was shocked when I learned that this was the same actor, all grown up), the unfortunate current recipient of the tapes, more tortured by them than anyone else because he actually cared for Hannah. Langford does exactly what she’s supposed to do: create a lovely and lovable character whose suicide stabs at the heart of viewers who can’t help but feel sympathy for such a sweet, funny, sassy, sexy, smart girl whose life ended too soon. But Minnette really carries the show as he goes through almost every human emotion on the map trying to find answers and cope with something that makes absolutely no sense to him. As he gradually discovers the answers, his character evolves in some really interesting ways. And, in fact, that’s true about most of the subjects on Hannah’s tapes. Most of them experience a significant change in their understanding of who they are and how they see the world. And I do think that’s one of the strongest points the show makes. I also want to single out Brandon Flynn, who plays Justin Foley, the caddy jock and arguably the (still living) character who changes the most by the end of the series.

It’s interesting to observe the multicultural diversity in the cast. You’ve got blacks, whites, Asians, Hispanics, gays, lesbians, bisexuals, rich kids, poor kids, kids with cops as parents. You even have a pair of gay dads! But strangely, there doesn’t seem to be any tension based on these matters, with the exception of one closeted lesbian (whose reason for needing to stay in the closet seems really odd to me). It almost seems like the producers tried too hard to create a homogenized world where these differences no longer separate people, in order to put a more narrow focus on generalized bullying. But I’m not sure how accurate it represents your average suburban high school. Interesting point of fact: none of them seem to have much of a spiritual life. Hmm…Maybe that’s part of their problem. They don’t believe in anything.

One thing that happens to me, as a writer and producer of drama, is that when I watch a show, I’m always scrutinizing the difference between what a character feels or says, and what I think the show’s creators are trying to say. I am keenly aware of how one or more characters can become a mouthpiece for a writer to say what they want about the world or any general subject. The risk here is becoming pedantic. (If you read Dean Koontz, you know all about this!)  As a writer, you really don’t want to be that obvious about what your personal take is, unless you’re just an unabashed agenda writer and don’t care that people know that. If you’re wanting to make a point, but end up sounding preachy, you’re doing it wrong. And there are things that characters say in 13 Reasons that sound an awful lot to me like a writer on a soapbox. As the kids like to say, “Fail!” Or “Sad!” (And John Ridley, you should have read this before conceptualizing season 3 of American Crime; you’ll get your review later!)

[SPOILERS AHEAD]

The worst example of this is variations of a mantra that you hear many, many times in the 13 episodes: “We all killed Hannah Baker.” Well, I’m sorry, but that’s bullshit. Hannah Baker killed Hannah Baker. And she can blame whomever she wants, but we’re all singularly responsible for our own actions. Hannah is, as I’ve already stated, a very likable and sympathetic character, but her final action before she died was one of tremendous cruelty. She singled out a group of people, all of whom caused her pain in one way or another—as human beings tend to do—and proceeded to accuse each of them for taking part in her motivation to kill herself. And she made each person listen to each story, causing a gossip storm that nearly ruined a lot of lives. Strange and unlikely alliances were formed, conspiracies were made to silence those who might become a threat if word got out, and general mayhem ensued. In the end, Hannah was exceedingly selfish and irresponsible. And not because she killed herself; there are many who demonize people who commit suicide, calling them cowards, etc., and I think as a society we need to be careful about those types of judgements because they do more harm than good. My issue with Hannah is that she’s trying to take everyone down with her, and many of those people are just as fragile and vulnerable as she is.

Some of the people on her tapes did very minor things. Some did horrible damage. But she lumped them all together. The only one she inflicted punitive damage on (encouraging everyone to throw rocks in his window) was nerdy yearbook photographer Tyler (Devin Druid…is that an awesome name or what?) who himself was a social outcast and a pariah, about the only male cast member not fit to be an Abercrombie and Fitch model, sad and lonely and pathetic. Surely there were others who were more deserving of that kind of treatment. I’m not trying to excuse Tyler’s actions. But messed up people do messed up things. You can call him a creep, but ask yourself how he got this way. This kid was bullied more than Hannah was, and it’s really no surprise to see his arsenal in the last episode; if there’s a second season, will it be about why Tyler became a school shooter?

One of the most enigmatic characters in the show is…oh, I’m not even sure how to label him…hipster Alex, played by Miles Heizer. And I’m honestly not sure if it’s the character himself who doesn’t know who the heck he is, or if it’s flawed, lazy writing. He’s one of the most inconsistent, schizophrenic characters I’ve ever seen on TV. There’s a Cyndi Lauper song I’m reminded of: “You don’t know where you belong / you should be more careful / as you follow blindly along / to find something to swear to / you don’t know what’s right from wrong / you just need to belong somehow.” Of course, that song can apply to 95% of high school kids, you could argue, but still…I feel like the writers just didn’t know how to define this character. And though he did the least amount of harm, he ended up with a self-inflicted bullet in the head, and I could add, “…thanks to Hannah’s revenge drama”, but then I would be contradicting my whole judgement of this series.

 It’s all a blame game, and the people who don’t fall for it are the “assholes” in the show, while those that do are the ones we like. Poor Clay falls hook, line, and sinker for the whole guilt trip, even though he did nothing wrong. The takeaway from his hearing his own tape is that he should have stayed when she told him to go. So let me get this straight:  a woman saying “no” doesn’t really mean “no”?  Amid two rape cases, that’s a strange message to send. Talk about toying with someone’s mind. In essence, she’s telling Clay that if he had been able to read her mind, she might still be alive. Gee, thanks. Now I’ve got another 60 to 70 years to try to live that down.

So the point the writers want to make:  we have to be kind to each other, and very careful with our words and actions because what we do and say can have unexpected and devastating consequences. That’s great; I’m totally down with that message. But the whole “You’re the reason I killed myself” thing?  They could have done better. But then, I guess that would ruin the whole premise of the show.

Another issue I have with the show—and perhaps it’s a societal thing as well—is the “cool parents” phenomenon. You know, don’t pry, respect privacy 100%, don’t demand answers, don’t discipline, let them learn everything on their own, don’t try to protect them, let them be smart asses and shut you out, etc. This is not good parenting. There’s a reason why one of the Ten Commandments is “Honor thy Father and thy Mother.” Because, often, they do know more than you, and they can help you. Sure, some kids (like Justin) get bad parents. But Hannah’s and Clay’s parents were caring and well-intentioned. (I liked the dads more than the moms, for whatever that’s worth.) But they were impotent and ineffectual. I was encouraged by Clay’s eventual promise to spill everything to his mom, but I was disappointed that I didn’t get to see that moment in the show. After all the evasiveness that came before, I longed for a moment of real connection between mother and son, but we didn’t get it. I hate how modern teen stories are a deconstruction (and some might argue, a devaluing) of Family as an essential institution.

High school is a brutal and confusing time. Most people are generally messed up, emotionally. Rapid changes and adjustments are constantly being confronted. Some people are better at handling it than others. My own experience was a nightmare, though for me, it was mostly junior high and not high school. In high school, I was mainly a loner, completely invisible. In junior high, I was #1 pariah. I was talking to a friend about this show the other day, and he said, “The bullying I went through was much worse than anything that happened to Hannah.” And I would actually say the same thing about myself, with the possible exception of the rape. I would suggest, though, that there is more than one type of rape. I would never want to minimize the trauma of those who have been violated sexually, but there are other types of violations that I would say are just as bad and can affect someone for life.

The sad reality is that most people are selfish by nature. And the even more sad reality is that when you’re suffering and try to cry for help, most people don’t have a clue how to handle it, so they do nothing. People cry for help all the time, and almost always get ignored. That’s a fact. That’s my own personal experience talking. It’s easy to give up on humanity and start to believe that nobody gives a fuck about you. 13 Reasons Why is an earnest attempt to address these issues, to start a conversation that could lead to some kind of change. And I have to say it was riveting to watch. For all its problems, I enjoyed it and was genuinely moved by it.

The show has not been without controversy. Some mental health experts have suggested that the show glamorizes—or worse, may inadvertently encourage—suicide. I feel it’s in the eye of the beholder. I’ve heard that certain acts of random violence may have the contributing factor of their perpetrator seeing similar stories on the news and becoming emboldened. But that instinct or drive to violence was likely already there. Whether or not the news story was the tipping point, we may never know. And the same is true here. 13 Reasons Why might resonate with a certain type of personality who is looking for a flashy way to end it and give all the people they’re mad at the middle finger at the same time, but those feelings were likely not caused by the show. Art imitates reality more than the other way around. So you can’t blame a TV show for a tragedy any more than Hannah could justifiably blame her classmates for an action that was solely her decision to make. As an artist, I do feel a responsibility to create content that does not harm, but at the end of the day, it’s not something I have control over. I do admire the producers of this show for asking the questions, though I don’t necessarily agree with some of the conclusions they might want their audience to arrive at. 

I will close this essay with an equation that has been used by many a self-help guru, though I’m not sure who first coined it: E + R = O. Which simply means “Event + Response = Outcome.” Shit happens. But no matter how hard we have it, we all have a choice in how to respond to it. And there is always a response that is born of grace and leads to healing and hope, light and life. 

The Pillowman

As I have probably mentioned, I don't see many live shows, nor do I often go to theaters to see new movies. I simply don't make enough money to afford the luxury, so I must be extremely selective. This means that I often miss shows that my friends are doing, which is regrettable as I know that disappointed feeling I get when my people don't come to my own shows. I say all this to say that Life in Arts' Production of Martin McDonagh's The Pillowman is that rare gem that almost perfectly meets the criteria of my meager budget, and I have no regrets on seeing it, financial or otherwise (although I do have a friend who regrets not noticing that a student discount was available).

The Pillowman is set in what the Dramatists publishers describe as "an unnamed totalitarian state." Now, normally I reserve my negative comments for the end of a review, but I have to structure things differently, because the problems come up right away. When you, the audience member--part of a group that is potentially as diverse as our nation itself--walks into the Headwaters lobby, you see a sign by the concession stand that proclaims, "No Ban! No wall!" In the weeks prior to the opening of The Pillowman, the company--along with many other theatres across the country--participated in something called The Ghostlight Project, which was a solidarity movement among theatre artists to be a source of "light for the dark times ahead." You know, the dark times that will inevitably be brought on by our new President. Director Jamie Rea put her political cards right on the table in her program notes, essentially suggesting that since the election of Donald J. Trump, we now live in such an "absurd Kaftaesque totalitarian dictatorship". According to the program (but not the play itself), this piece is set right here and now.  And if, dear audience, you did not pick up on this subtle message, you are provided with a picture of the President himself right there on the wall of the set. At the time of this production, President Trump has been in office less than a month. Such politicization and pandering is unnecessary, distracting and, frankly, beneath the otherwise excellent work by this company. Instead of just presenting a play and allowing the audience to draw its own conclusions, the audience is getting a personal, partisan agenda from the theatre company and being told what to think, which--in a manner I suppose is completely unintentional to the artists--goes right along with the play's themes.

In a way, the totalitarian theme is a bit of a red herring, a plot point that doesn't seem to really go anywhere. This is not the fault of the production, but possibly a flaw in McDonagh's play itself. I am probably wrong; it just seems to me that it's explored a tiny bit and then fizzles out after the first act. Unless you're just talking about police brutality and lack of due process, which is something that has unfortunately existed in every government throughout time. None of that is earth-shattering.

This is the story of two brothers who are accused of murdering three local children. They are locked up and interrogated by a couple of heavies (Bobby Bermea and Jonah Weston) who seem to feel that a person is guilty until proven innocent, and even then, perhaps still guilty under their law. The brothers are Katurian (Benjamin Philip), a writer of dark fables involving children, and Michal (Gary Strong), a mentally disabled man, a year older. The reason the two are suspected of the killings is because they closely mirror the short stories of Katurian. In fact, the stories seem to serve as an inspiration and blueprint for the violence.

To reveal much more of the plot would be a great disservice to the audience. The brothers have a horrific background, a childhood that no doubt inspired the dark writings of the protagonist. The play explores how we are shaped by the experiences of our childhoods and--in light of that--how much responsibility we bear for our actions as grown-ups. It also explores the nature of the creative mind, how an artist is defined by the work that they create, and how closely artists guard and protect their work as sacred. (I can relate to this a great deal.) And, to go even deeper, it asks if an artist (in this case a writer) has any responsibility to his/her audience in regard to content and the possible reaction to it. I was reminded of the story of a school shooting that led Stephen King to take his book, Rage, off the market when the book was discovered in the shooter's locker.

If I could think of one word to describe the acting performances in this piece, it would be "brave". Not only are they dealing with one of the most disturbing topics is existence--the brutal killing of children--but they do it in a very straightforward way, never flinching (unless of course it's natural for the character to do so), and you've got actual children on stage acting this stuff out. I feel this play would disturb the sensibilities of many parents. But McDonagh is a writer who goes for the jugular (so to speak), and in order for a production to work, the acting ensemble must be willing to do the same, and every single one was up to the task.

I did kind of wonder about the character of Michal, who seemed to shift in his levels of maturity and understanding. Sometimes he seemed to have the IQ of a toddler, and other times he was surprisingly astute. It seems like a mild inconsistency, but I'm not prepared to call anyone out on it, because it may be quite intentional. It's the type of thing I'd have to examine with repeated viewings, which, of course, is not possible.

There is a lot that could be said about the original music, sound design, lighting design, set design, props, staging, costumes, makeup, etc. Look, this is top notch work, and I was impressed enough to even be a little envious of what this crew has pulled off. All the different elements work so well together and add to the overall tone of menace and dread. The night I saw it, there were some timing issues with the sound cues, but from a design standpoint, it was absolutely amazing, and I loved virtually everything about it.

I should note, for anyone who worries the play might be too dark, there is actually a lot humor in it. Humor is an absolutely essential element in a play of this nature; otherwise audiences might indeed lack the stamina to endure such a long and deep reflection on human nature's darkest corners.

The Pillowman runs through February 25th, Thursday through Sunday at 7:30 at the Headwaters, 55 NE Farragut St. Ste 9 in Portland. Tickets: https://squareup.com/store/life-in-arts-productions.

The Falls Trilogy

As a gay Christian artist, I have spent over 20 years exploring the relationship between spirituality and sexuality, and the various conflicts and struggles that exist, of which it seems not that many people are fully aware, even now. It’s a web of complex issues that is not strictly black and white. Many people, of faith and not of faith, believe that you have to choose one or the other, and do not understand the challenges faced by those who refuse to accept that mandate. When I first saw The Falls, and as I’ve followed the trilogy to its conclusion, I had a mixed emotional reaction to it. On one hand, I have felt jealous and frustrated that someone else has, in a sense, beat me to the punch in dealing with these issues in an extremely effective and satisfying way. Why could it not have been me? (The answer has to do with my lack of professional connections, confidence, giving up too quickly, etc.) But on the other hand, I am awestruck and inspired by this series of films that I truly believe everyone should see because they are some of the finest and most important works ever made on these topics. Many have tried before, and have fallen short. I won’t leave you in suspense. This is a most positive review. I will talk about why these movies work so well, and include some personal stories along with it.

Note: There will likely be some mild spoilers here, but nothing that would really ruin the enjoyment for people who haven’t seen the films. Just be warned though. I want people to see these movies, so if you think you shouldn’t find out a little ahead of time, see them first, then come back.

The Falls (2012)

When I saw The Falls for the first time, I didn’t realize that it was filmed in Portland until I saw local actor Brian Allard about a third of the way into the film. Later on, I would see Harold Phillips, who I know from way back when I stage managed a production of Speed the Plow that he starred in back in 2000. When you realize that something was done in your back yard and you didn’t know about it, you have kind of an “aw shit” moment, like, “I wish I could have been involved in this”, but truthfully I’ve never been involved in film, only theatre (though I write screenplays). Some of my readers know I went to film school and it did not agree with me. At all.

The Falls tells the story of two young Mormon men beginning their obligatory 2-year missionary work. Apparently, they are paired up (they are called each other’s "missionary companions") and end up rooming together, dorm-style. They receive training and practice in the evangelistic work that they will be doing.

Not surprisingly to anyone watching this movie, but surprising to the characters themselves, the two men (Chris, played by Ben Farmer) and RJ (played by Nick Ferrucci) form a very strong attraction and subsequent bond with each other, which leads to sexual intimacy. And not surprisingly, it turns their world upside down because not only do they have to wrestle with their own internal conflicts, but they also have a huge secret they must keep.

This film provides an interesting primer for people who are completely ignorant about the LDS church and what they believe. We see Chris and RJ talking to so-called “investigators” who are curious and sometimes skeptical, even critical, about their beliefs. We see what it’s like to have to explain and defend your beliefs to people who think you’re basically nuts. You also get to see things like Mormon underwear, which I’d never really seen…in fact, I didn’t know such a thing even existed. I just thought, Boy, these guys have some heavy-duty industrial knee-level chastity underwear that looks like it should also come with a padlock or alarm system should anyone come close, like Princess Vespa in Spaceballs. Not very erotic, but the film manages to find plenty of eroticism anyway. It doesn’t hurt that the two leading men are lookers.

We get a curveball in the Brian Allard character, a pot-smoking Iraq war vet with PTSD, who RJ and Chris get to know as part of their outreach. Rodney (Allard) is not religious at all, and on the surface, looks like a potentially bad influence on these two young men of God. Indeed, by film’s end, he’s got them smoking pot and watching R-rated movies. A change starts to take place in these characters’ lives as they reexamine their priorities, which affects their performance as missionaries and jeopardizes the secret relationship that they share.

Soon comes a crisis point. I won’t say what it is, but it’s fairly predictable, inevitable really. Soon we meet the families in the wake of said crisis, as everyone must decide where to go from here. We meet Harold Phillips, who is Portland’s answer to Tom Hanks, that affable guy whose face is always welcome in any movie or TV show. He plays the father of RJ, who is the more fortunate of the two lovers in that he has a fairly supportive family that is capable of adjusting. Chris does not. All of a sudden, the romance between the two men is subject to the dictates of God, the church, family, friends, and probably the dog as well. Will it survive? Who can know?

And that’s where they leave it. And to think, writer/director Jon Garcia—who is neither Mormon, nor gay—wasn’t originally going to follow it up with a sequel. But his film resonated with people, much more so than he could have imagined.

The Falls: Testament of Love (2013)

Part 2 is the most challenging of the trilogy, both for the characters themselves and for the audience. It’s an excellent film, but it is not an easy film to watch; it is actually grueling at times. And it is due to the honesty and the genuine humanity that is shown in every well drawn-out and nuanced performance.

Five years after the events of the first film, RJ and Chris have moved on with their lives. Chris has been pressured into reparative therapy, which paved the way for a marriage with a beautiful woman (Emily, played with real tenderness by Hannah Barefoot), a marriage that seems happy, but the audience—who always knows more than the characters do—understands it’s an ill-advised union based on lies and self-denial. They even have a kid and a lavish house, which is not quite as nice as the one the Cullen family owned in Twilight, but almost. (Where are these beautiful local homes, wonders the Portlander.)

RJ has also begun a new relationship with personal trainer Paul (played with heartbreaking vulnerability by Thomas Stroppel), and they reside in Seattle. The relationship isn’t perfect. You get the sense that Paul wants to change RJ in certain ways, to mold him into what he thinks he ought to be—eating better, exercising more, etc. It’s nothing compared to the pressure that Chris is enduring, but there is an unsettling disparity in terms of what they both want from the other, in spite of the very real affection that is apparent in their interactions.

What reunites RJ and Chris is the death of their old pal Rodney of cancer (although the cancer is only explained in a deleted scene; in the theatrical cut, I don’t think we even know what he died of). It’s an awkward reunion, and Chris has repressed his sexuality to the point of hostility towards RJ when it’s brought up. That hostility is intensified a few weeks later when RJ decides to take a trip to Salt Lake and drop by Chris’ house uninvited and unannounced in the middle of family dinner, setting off a series of events that threaten to blow up Chris’ family to smithereens.

One of the challenging things about this series—and most particularly, this installment—is that these people are revealed to be not constantly lovable paragons of virtue, but really deeply flawed human beings, sometimes incredibly selfish, incredibly reckless and irresponsible. There are several actions taken by both Chris and RJ that may seem very wrong to some viewers, including myself. You want to root for these people, but you sit in front of the screen just a little aghast at the audacity of some of these choices that are made. “Why did he just do that?!” you yell to yourself. And even I had to remind myself that these people, through no fault of their own, have been put into an extremely difficult circumstance, in which their very faith and eternal salvation may be at stake, not to mention their relationship with their families and communities, and balancing with that the question of the very legitimacy of true love. In extreme circumstances, people respond in extreme and desperate ways. You can’t really judge them too harshly because you can see every fragment of love, fear, anger, confusion, and despair in the faces of both RJ and Chris (in some of the most truthful and sensitive performances I’ve ever seen from Ferrucci and Farmer, who should go on to become enormously successful and famous because they deserve it). The same goes for the heartbroken Emily and Paul, who had the misfortune of being forced rebound relationships doomed to destruction by the on-again, off-again chaos that is this tortured romance.

There isn’t any hero or villain here. You genuinely come to feel for every character in this story, much more than in Part 1 because the stakes are so much higher. There is no way for anyone to come out of this unscathed, no way to avoid pain and heartache. Whose fault is it? Some of it lies in the church and the belief systems that oppress its members, but it also lies squarely in the hands of our protagonists, who don’t know how to find peace and happiness in a way that avoids running over the people they care about.

Not a feel-good movie, but a powerful one.

The Falls: Covenant of Grace (2016)

First off, one of my favorite film titles, ever. And very appropriate because if anyone needs grace, it is Chris, RJ, and their families.

In between seeing Part 2 and the filming of Part 3, I reached out to Ben Farmer by email, telling of how much I admired these movies. I’m one of a great number of people who have done this, generating the overwhelming response that encouraged the making of both parts 2 and 3. My friend Michael Stringfield, who produces sports programming but does occasional commercials on the side, asked if I would be an extra in a shoot for Eastside Distillings Burnside Bourbon, and because I have a hard time saying no to anything Michael asks of me, I showed up at this bar, and was surprised to see Ben Farmer as the main character in the commercial. It was a weird day because I felt like this closet groupie wannabe fanboy, wishing I would will myself to go schmoose with this actor that I was so impressed with, but I was too shy to do so. I resolved that he would someday act in one of my stage productions, but I would soon find out he was moving to New York. A few months after that, they started filming Covenant of Grace, and again part of me wished I could be an extra or something, but stayed away. I didn’t even attend the premier, which wasn’t a real premier because it was unfinished, but Farmer and Phillips were there, and it would have been fun.

Personal story aside, this takes place a year after RJ showed up in Salt Lake and tore Chris’ family apart, then left him alone to deal with the fallout. They do reconnect, and again, a death serves as a catalyst to the changes that happen in their relationship. This time, it is Chris’ beloved mother, who was supportive of him back when his dad was so harsh and judgmental. We see the life that RJ has built for himself in the last year, now in Portland. He’s got a pair of lesbian friends who seem a little out of place in this story. (Garcia has given them a lot of backstory, not all of which is included in this film to help the audience understand why they’re even there, and if fact, they should probably just have their own film.) Another new character is Ryan, a younger man who looks up to RJ and, in fact, has feelings for him. All these performances are very strong, especially Curtis Edward Jackson as Ryan, whose story closely mirrors that of Chris and RJ’s. But excellent performances are no surprise at this point; they are par for the course in these films. You’ve got to credit Garcia with having an eye for raw talent and clearly a gift for bringing out amazing work in his actors.

For the first time, it seems as though Chris and RJ have a real chance at the relationship that has eluded them for so long. Their family’s views are softening (with the exception of Chris’ angry brother, played by Andrew Bray in a role that may be one of the weakest in terms of the writing…Why didn’t Garcia give this character more dimension than homophobic anger and hostility?). But the church’s stance has been the opposite. Now there is a new proclamation from the church which states that children of gay couples can’t be baptized. This triggers the central conflict of this third installment, which is RJ and Chris having to finally answer for themselves that question that has been hanging over them for 7 years: how do they reconcile their faith and their love for one another? Can they have both?

If that was the only issue that this movie takes on, it would be a little redundant and tedious at this point because, like I said, it’s been right there in front of them the whole time. But this is a movie about relationships more than anything else. It’s not about preaching social, religious, or political viewpoints. It’s about the process of self-discovery, figuring out what you really want, what you really believe, and how you want to treat the people in your life. In what is arguably the most powerful scene, which oddly doesn’t even feature Ben Farmer, RJ and young Ryan are exploring their feelings for each other, and instead of just following the passion of the moment and the true affection that the two share, like you would expect from RJ (because, you know, we think we know him pretty well at this point), RJ puts on the breaks, realizing that taking that relationship to a physical level would only hurt Ryan because of RJ’s unresolved feelings for Chris, and because of Ryan’s similar situation with his own former missionary companion over which he pines day and night. This is a real evolution for RJ’s character, and it’s incredibly refreshing.

Chris has a similar moment with his father, from whom he has been seeking approval all his life. Once he gets it, he realizes that’s awesome, but even if that had not been given, he had come to the place where he could make his own decisions and be at peace with them.

Eventually, RJ and Chris decide what they’re going to do. Will they be together, at last? Obviously, I’m not going to say. What I will say is that Covenant of Grace is a satisfying conclusion to this beautiful and emotional story.

So what more is there to say about these films that I haven’t said yet? For me, it’s all about honest, totally invested performances, characters that feel so real that you almost believe you know them personally. It’s also the writing. While this material could have come across as fairly pedantic, Jon Garcia seemed more interested in telling a compelling story than in preaching any particular point of view. There are Issues, but they always take a back seat to the relationships, and that’s how it should be. That’s why I think a lot of films of this type fail is because they are throwing a sermon at you instead of engaging you in a very personal and relatable story. There is so much honesty and truth in these three films, it would take a hundred mainstream Hollywood movies to match it.

See these films. See them with friends and family. And then have them encourage others to. And, you know, I’ll get mine out eventually.