#the adventures in Odyssey reference was too personal all of it all of it was too personal except not the murder | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chainofclovers · 3 years

Text

Ted Lasso 2x9 thoughts

It’s no secret that I absolutely adore Coach Beard; he’s one of my favorite characters on the show, and he’s so well-written and well-acted that somehow I tend to be both perfectly satisfied with the details we see and truly curious to understand more about the way he thinks, what’s really happening re: his professional and personal devotion to Ted, where he comes from and where he’s going. I don’t need to know his name beyond the name he wants to be called, but I want to know why we don’t have any other names for him. And I don’t need him to be a bigger focal point of every episode, but I very much needed this episode’s world-exploding reminder that every single character on this show has a rich inner life, full of joys and troubles.

“Beard After Hours” is like a movie, but one that scatters its climaxes and puts off its resolutions...because it’s not a movie. It’s episode nine of a twelve-episode season of TV. When the episode ended, I felt this almost frantic “But he needed to break up with Jane for good before the end of the episode!” feeling. I was so pulled in by the idea of being able to tell an entire story in one night, of going on an odyssey alongside a complicated hero, that watching Beard and Jane find each other in that club felt as intense as the fact that we don’t know if Ted responded to Rebecca’s voicemail and we don’t know what’s going to happen with Rebecca and Sam and we don’t know who isn’t getting married and who is having a funeral in 2x10 (I mean, I have my strong suspicions, but still!) and we don’t know if Richmond will be promoted back to the Premier League. And on and on. I didn’t mind feeling desperate for the story to resolve even though I understood after thinking about it for ten seconds that of course it couldn’t resolve yet. Or ever. Or yet.

I’m a big fan of the TL episode recaps/reviews Linda Holmes writes for NPR, and I have to quote something from this week’s directly because it so perfectly explains my feelings:

The power of the scene where Beard dances in the club isn't that it's a beautiful romantic climax. It's that it's an explanation of why he cannot seem to extricate himself from this bad relationship. What makes the worst relationships so dangerous is that they have elements that feel good that are very hard to get elsewhere. Beard knows that; he tells it to God. What's concerning isn't that Jane makes the world seem more interesting; what's concerning is she's the only thing that does. That doesn't take away from the joy of the dancing; it just tells you that even happiness is complicated.

I love Holmes’ perspective here so much, because it articulates something I was struggling to figure out: how it can feel so legitimate, like such a (temporary but nonetheless powerful) relief, for Beard to find Jane in that club and to have this moment of euphoria as his night nears an end. How it is possible to experience that relief on behalf of a character while fervently wishing it could end differently, because it’s so clear from the abusive text messages and the toxic calls and the manipulative interactions that Jane is terrible to him and they’re terrible for each other. But Beard knows this. He knows it when he hugs Higgins in the parking lot after Higgins is honest with him in a way Ted and Rebecca and Keeley have not learned how to be, and he knows it when part of his prayer includes the clear articulation that Jane isn’t the cure for what “ails me.” He’s inching closer to greater self-knowledge just as Ted is.

And the two big resolutions that really, really needed to happen did. I didn’t know I needed Paul, Baz, and Jeremy to get to wrap up their own night out on the pitch at Nelson Road, but I did. It brought actual tears to my eyes. And the other resolution was Beard showing up with the other coaches’ coffees for their meeting to watch the game film. As interesting as it would have been to see what Ted would have done if Beard hadn’t shown up, I’m so, so glad that he did. He’s got a messed-up face and some truly epic pants on, but otherwise this is just Beard showing up for work, showing up for his friends. It was incredible to realize that Beard and Ted haven’t been exaggerating when they’ve referred to his sex-and-drug proclivities in the past. The night documented in 2x9 might have been particularly scary and violent and euphoric and awful and meaningful, but this type of all-night adventure isn’t a foreign concept for this guy. In all the other episodes of this show, when we see Beard we’re seeing someone who might have been out all night, who might have spent the hours the sun was down desperately pushing himself closer to whatever edges he could find.

I don’t really want to touch upon all the allusions in this episode. They are abundant, they are well-documented, and also I haven’t even seen the movie After Hours. I enjoyed this episode for its allusive qualities and I enjoyed this episode for what it was and I feel like I have to be at peace with the fact that I’m never going to pick up on every single reference on this show and that is okay.

So, yeah, if this entry on my tumblr dot com blog seems remarkably devoid of references and allusions, it’s not because I’m not into it but because I find it too overwhelming to actually write about.

Very into the Misplaced and Discovered box at the Crown and Anchor. (That’s what Mae wrote on the Lost and Found box at the pub, right? Whatever it is, it’s so funny.)

Beard hallucinating Thierry Henry and Gary Lineker was truly upsetting and a great indicator not only of how broken things are between the Richmond coaching staff right now but also how deep Beard’s self-loathing might go. If you’d asked me before Thursday if I thought Beard loathed himself, I would say no. That deepening of knowledge alone makes 2x9 worth it.

James Tartt and his friends in the alley. Such a nightmare. I go back and forth on how much of the night was real, and part of me has decided all of it is, short of the images of Henry and Lineker. (And even that is real to the extent that it was a way of articulating what was in Beard’s head.) But watching Beard in physical danger brought on by the same abuser who had him so upset in the first place. It was a lot.

I’m so excited that Paul and Jeremy and Baz got some spotlight this episode. It was so wonderful to see them out of the pub. I love that they ended up telling the Oxford snots who they really were. They got to see Beard going to bat for them and smoothing over the situation socially, and that actually made it more possible for them to end up being truthful about themselves. Because they have nothing to be ashamed of, and they deserved the magic of that night. (And for it to end on Nelson Road. Every feeling. Oof.)

I feel like I barely have anything to say about the trouser-mending lady or the many places Beard goes or his key-dropping or the nightmarish feeling of wanting to be home and being unable to be home. It all happened and we all watched it and again, it was a lot. But I do feel incredibly moved and fascinated by the fact that Beard very obviously still hasn’t been home when he brings in the coffee. He’s had to sleep at the club for Jane- and key-related reasons in the past, and this time it’s not that he’s slept there but it still feels like a kind of homecoming he was robbed of for the entire night. Ted and Roy and Nate are there. He’s gotten their coffee orders correct. Ted is growing and evolving (he wants to learn from what’s happened, he’s insisting upon it even when the others resist) but he’s done a really perfect (almost romantic in its loveliness) thing by presumably spending his evening following a breakdown of his own speeding up the game film to 10x speed and adding Benny Hill. Ted is not OK and Beard is not OK and Nate is not OK and Roy is pretty OK but could very easily be not OK because he’s just joined a coaching staff with a whole lot of not OK. But they all showed up.

I am very into the realism of the lights being off in the club other than the coaches’ office (@talldecafcappuccino pointed this out!), and the way we’re seeing their desks from a different angle because this episode is unfocused on Ted. It really added to the mindset of being hungover and exhausted and unable to go home or even to know exactly what home should be; even this warm, familiar place feels off even as it’s a relief to be back there.

I am excited to return to our regularly scheduled programming with the full cast of characters, but I really adored this episode for what it taught us about Beard and what it illuminated about the humor, pain, and complexity of each person who inhabits this universe. Beard may not be loud about his long-standing beliefs or about the things he’s learned, but there’s a lot happening in there and I appreciated getting to spend 43 minutes with him and (in the case of the ticket he scrawls on a piece of paper so the pub guys can get into Nelson Road) the moments he sets in motion.

#ted lasso #ted lasso s2 spoilers #ted lasso 2x9 #meta by me #a lesbian watches ted lasso #coach beard

104 notes · View notes

burningfestivalpersona · 2 years

Text

My Favorite Floor Titles

Every floor in Etrian Odyssey has an epithet. Mostly, they exist to set a tone beyond the Stratum’s tileset. Some of them go about this in different ways from others. Here’s some of my personal favorites.

The First Hope-filled Step: The first floor of Etria’s Labyrinth, it ends up describing not just your current adventure, but the series as a whole. Everything in the Emerald Grove is bright and beautiful, and you don’t even realize yet that the game will set you up to be ambushed over a boot. You’ll recognize that mistake eventually, but for now, you’re just here for a good time.

All That Lives Shall Succumb: At first, it just seems like your usual Labyrinth doomsaying, and then you hit the first pitfall. It does not get any better from there.

Half-mad From Self-doubt: It’s a teleporter maze. It’s a teleporter maze that goes far beyond the icon limit. By the time you reach the end, you’ll be praying that your frantic scramblings are enough to allow Floor Jump. It’s as likely as not that it won’t be.

Trail of Enduring Pain: How do you say ‘this floor has damage tiles’ without saying ‘this floor has damage tiles?’ Pack Guard Soles. Pack lots of Guard Soles. Or a party member with Safe Passage, that works, too.

Here Be Dragons: Technically not a floor title, but it amuses me that High Lagaard feels the need to warn specifically about the superbosses and not the dinosaurs that new adventurers are actually likely to come across. Sure, there’s a wyvern in the first Stratum, but it hasn’t even spawned yet!

What Lurks behind the Trees: In EOV, this is the floor that introduces aggressive FOEs. At least it warns you ahead of time what you’re getting into. Not every game can bother to do that.

Dance with Fawns in the Sunbeams: They mean it literally. You aren’t meant to fight them. Why would you fight them. Or, for completionists, why fight both of them? There’s another Furyhorn in the next maze that you’re required to fight anyway.

Rocks Claw at Uncertain Wanderers: It’s always nice when they tell you the floor gimmick right away. Especially since, if you’re the kind of person who looks up maps ahead of time, you might not even notice otherwise.

A duty that must be forsaken/ Swords Reflecting Hell’s Fire: These are lumped together because they don’t actually describe the floor itself, but the people who join your party there. Wufan starts trusting other people with the Medium’s safety. Kibagami helps you fight a creature of fire. There’s a third one, but it’s a bit bigger than that...

From Whence Loyalty Drives: First of all, I’m not sure if the reference to drive blades was intentional or not, but it definitely tells you exactly what you’re getting into. And it summarizes the events of the floor perfectly. Logre fighting you out of duty. The nameless Imperial who admits that he follows Baldur because he’s scared not to. Logre choosing to join the party permanently, if you’ll have him. Literally the only flaw in the description is that it gives you no warning of the Cradle Guardian, but that’s fine. The exact identity of the boss is arguably the least-important thing here. An emotionally-charged floor gets an emotionally-charged epithet, and that’s the way it should be.

#etrian odyssey #etrian odyssey 2 #etrian odyssey v #etrian odyssey IV #eo2 #eoiv #eov #this started with me just talking about the last one #and then it expanded #because the other games have well-named floors too #and they deserve to be highlighted #guess which games I've gotten farthest in

7 notes · View notes

gardenofkore · 3 years

Photo

The Theory of the Sicilian Origin of the Odyssey refers to a particular trend (particularly fashionable during the 19th century) according to which the true author of the Odyssey was a young woman from Trapani, who took inspiration from people and places familiar to her to write this famous epic poem. The postulation was made especially renowned after Victorian novelist Samuel Butler published his work The Authoress of the Odyssey in 1897 and is still debated nowadays. The main reasonings who could support the theory of a female writer are the fact that, in the Odyssey, women are depicted as more reasonable and positive than men, who act almost mechanically and aren’t as exalted as their female counterparts. While Iliad’s women are creatures who need to be protected, Odyssey’s women rule, counsel and protect. When Ulysses reaches Scheria, Nausicaa advises him to plead for help from Queen Arete rather than King Alcinous. No woman in the Odyssey is made fun of, and almost everyone of them is treated with respect, except if they committed a serious crime (like Penelope’s unfaithful handmaidens, who are showed no mercy) while men aren’t considered trustworthy and able. Also, the text is peppered with small errors (about navigation, the structure of a ship, the shape of a weapon etc) which no male author could have made.

Who, then, was she?

I cannot answer this question with the confidence that I have felt hitherto. So far I have been able to demonstrate the main points of my argument; on this, the most interesting question of all, I can offer nothing stronger than presumption.

We have to find a woman of Trapani, young, fearless, self-willed, and exceedingly jealous of the honour of her sex. She seems to have moved in the best society of her age and country, for we can imagine none more polished on the West coast of Sicily in Odyssean times than the one with which the writer shews herself familiar. She must have had leisure, or she could not have carried through so great a work. She puts up with men when they are necessary or illustrious, but she is never enthusiastic about them, and likes them best when she is laughing at them; but she is cordially interested in fair and famous women.

I think she should be looked for in the household of the person whom she is travestying under the name of King Alcinous. The care with which his pedigree and that of his wife Arēte is explained (vii. 54-77), and the warmth of affectionate admiration with which Arēte is always treated, have the same genuine flavour that has led scholars to see true history and personal interest in the pedigree of Æneas given in "Il." XX. 200-241. Moreover, she must be a sufficiently intimate member of the household to be able to laugh at its head as much as she chose. [...]

Lastly, she must be looked for in one to whom the girl described as Nausicaa was all in all. No one else is drawn with like livingness and enthusiasm, and no other episode is written with the same, or nearly the same, buoyancy of spirits and resiliency of pulse and movement, or brings the scene before us with anything approaching the same freshness, as that in which Nausicaa takes the family linen to, the washing cisterns. The whole of Book vi. can only have been written by one who was throwing herself into it heart and soul.

All the three last paragraphs are based on the supposition that the writer was drawing real people. That she was drawing a real place, lived at that place, and knew no other, does not admit of further question; we can pin the writer down here by reason of the closeness with which she has kept to natural features that remain much as they were when she portrayed them; but no traces of Alcinous’s house and garden, nor of the inmates of his household will be even looked for by any sane person; it is open, therefore, to an objector to contend that though the writer does indeed appear to have drawn permanent features from life, we have no evidence that she drew houses and gardens and men and women from anything but her own imagination.

[...]

Richly endowed with that highest kind of imagination which consists in wise selection and judicious application of materials derived from life, she fails, as she was sure to do, when cut off from a base of operation in her own surroundings. This appears most plainly in the three books which tell of the adventures of Ulysses after he has left Mt. Eryx and the Cyclopes. There is no local detail in the places described; nothing, in fact, but a general itinerary such as she could easily get from the mariners of her native town. With this she manages to rub along, helping herself out with fragments taken from nearer home, but there is no approach to such plausible invention as we find in Gulliver's Travels, Robinson Crusoe, or Pilgrim's Progress; and when she puts a description of the land of Hades into the mouth of Circe (x. 508–515)—which she is aware must be something unlike anything she had ever witnessed—she breaks down and gives as a scene which carries no conviction. Fortunately not much detail is necessary here; in Ithaca, however, a great deal is wanted, and feeling invention beyond her strength she does not even attempt it, but has recourse with the utmost frankness to places with which she is familiar.

Not only does she shirk invention as much as possible in respect of natural features, but she does so also as regards incident. She can vilipend her neighbours on Mt. Eryx as the people at Trapani continue doing to this day, for there is no love lost between the men of Trapani and those of Mte. S. Giuliano, as Eryx is now called. She knows Ustica: the wind comes thence, and she can make something out of that; then there is the other great Sican city of Cefalù—a point can be made here; but with the Lipari islands her material is running short. She has ten years to kill, for which, however, eight or eight-and-a-half may be made to pass. She cannot have killed more than three months before she lands her hero on Circe's island; here, then, in pity's name let him stay for at any rate twelve months—which he accordingly does.

She soon runs through her resources for the Sirens’ island, and Scylla and Charybdis; she knows that there is nothing to interest her on the East coast of Sicily below Taormina—for Syracuse (to which I will return) was still a small pre-Corinthian settlement, while on the South coast we have no reason to believe that there was any pre-Hellenic city. What, she asked herself, could she do but shut Ulysses up in the most lonely island she could think of—the one from which he would have the least chance of escaping—for the remainder of his term? She chose, therefore, the island which the modern Italian Government has chosen, for exactly the same reasons, as the one in which to confine those who cannot be left at large—the island of Pantellaria; but she was not going to burden Calypso for seven long years with all Ulysses’ men, so his ship had better be wrecked.

This way out of the difficulty does not indicate a writer of fecund or mature invention. She knew the existence of Sardinia, for Ulysses smiles a grim Sardinian smile (xx. 302). Why not send him there, and describe it with details taken not from the North side of Trapani but from the South? Or she need not have given details at all—she might have sent him very long journeys extending over ever so many years in half a page. If she had been of an inventive turn there were abundant means of keeping him occupied without having recourse to the cheap and undignified expedient of shutting him up first for a year in one island, and then for seven in another. Having made herself so noble a peg on which to hang more travel and adventure, she would have hung more upon it, had either strength or inclination pointed in that direction. It is one of the commonplaces of Homeric scholars to speak of the voyages of Ulysses as "a story of adventurous travel." So in a way they are, but one can see all through that the writer is trying to reduce the adventurous travel to a minimum.

See how hard put to it she is when she is away from her own actual surroundings. She does not repeat her incidents so long as she is at home, for she has plenty of material to draw from; when she is away from home, do what she may, she cannot realise things so easily, and has a tendency to fall back on something she has already done. Thus, at Pylos, she repeats the miraculous flight of Minerva (iii. 372) which she had used i. 320. On reaching the land of the Læstrygonians Ulysses climbs a high rock to reconnoitre, and sees no sign of inhabitants save only smoke rising from the ground—at the very next place he comes to he again climbs a high rock to reconnoitre, and apparently sees no sign of inhabitants but only the smoke of Circe's house rising from the middle of a wood. He is conducted to the house of Alcinous by a girl who had come out of the town to fetch a pitcher of water (vii. 20); this is repeated (x. 105) when Ulysses’ men are conducted to the house of the Læstrygonian Antiphates, by a girl who had come out of the town to fetch a pitcher of water. The writer has invented a sleep to ruin Ulysses just as he was well in sight of Ithaca (x. 31, &c.). This is not good invention, for such a moment is the very last in which Ulysses would be likely to feel sleepy—but the effort of inventing something else to ruin him when his men are hankering after the cattle of the Sun is quite too much for her, and she repeats (xii. 338) the sleep which had proved so effectual already. So, as I have said above, she repeats the darkness on each occasion when Ulysses seems likely to stumble upon Trapani. Calypso, having been invented once, must do duty again as Circe—or vice versâ, for Book x. was probably written before Book v.

Such frequent examples of what I can only call consecutive octaves indicate a writer to whom invention does not come easily, and who is not likely to have recourse to it more than she can help. Having shown this as regards both places and incidents, it only remains to point out that the writer's dislike of invention extends to the invention of people as well as places. The principal characters in the "Odyssey" are all of them Scherian. Nestor, Ulysses, Menelaus and Alcinous are every one of them the same person playing other parts, and the greater zest with which Alcinous is drawn suggests, as I have said in an earlier Chapter, that the original from whom they are all taken was better known to the writer in the part of Alcinous than in that of any of the other three. Penelope, Helen, and Arēte are only one person, and I always suspect Penelope to be truer to the original than either of the other two. Idothea and Ino are both of them Nausicaa; so also are Circe and Calypso, only made up a little older, and doing as the writer thinks Nausicaa would do if she were a goddess and had an establishment of her own. I am more doubtful about these last two, for they both seem somewhat more free from that man-hatred which Nausicaa hardly attempts to conceal. Still, Nausicaa contemplates marrying as soon as she can find the right person, and, as we have seen, neither Circe nor Calypso had a single man-servant of their own, while Circe was in the habit of turning all men who came near her into pigs or wild beasts. Calypso, moreover, is only made a little angry by being compelled to send Ulysses away. She does not seem to have been broken-hearted about it. Neither of them, therefore, must be held to be more fond of men than the convenience of the poem dictated. Even the common people of Ithaca are Scherians, and make exactly the same fault-finding ill-natured remarks about Penelope (xxiii. 149-151) as the Phæacians did about Nausicaa in Book vi. 273-288.

If, then, we observe that where the writer's invention is more laboured she is describing places foreign to her own neighbourhood, while when she carries conviction she is at or near her own home, the presumption becomes very strong that the more spontaneous scenes are not so much invention as a rendering of the writer's environment, to which it is plain that she is passionately attached, however much she may sometimes gird at it. I, therefore, dismiss the supposition of my supposed objector that the writer was not drawing Alcinous’ household and garden from life, and am confirmed in this opinion by remembering that the house of Ulysses corresponds perfectly with that of Alcinous—even to the number of the women servants kept in each establishment.

Being limited to a young woman who was an intimate member of Alcinous’ household, we have only to choose between some dependant who idolised Nausicaa and wished to celebrate her with all her surroundings, or Nausicaa (whatever her real name may have been) herself.

[...]

The fact that in the washing day episode, so far as possible, we find Nausicaa, all Nausicaa, and nothing but Nausicaa, among the female dramatis person, indicates that she was herself the young woman of Trapani, a member of the household of King Alcinous, whom we have got to find, and that she was giving herself the little niche in her work which a girl who was writing such a work was sure to give herself.

[...]

At the same time I think it highly probable that the writer of the "Odyssey" was both short and plain, and was laughing at herself, and intending to make her audience laugh also, by describing herself as tall and beautiful. She may have been either plain or beautiful without its affecting the argument.

I wish I could find some one who would give me any serious reason why Nausicaa should not have written the "Odyssey." For the last five years I have pestered every scholar with whom I have been able to scrape acquaintance, by asking him to explain why the "Odyssey" should not have been written by a young woman.

Samuel Butler, The Authoress of the Odyssey

#historical women #women #history #historicwomendaily #women in history #the authoress of the odyssey #samuel butler #Greek Sicily #trapani #Province of Trapani #people of sicily #women of sicily #historyedit #myedit

27 notes · View notes

archivingspn · 3 years

Text

2019: Twitter- Eric Kripke

therealKripke: “In honor of #SPN300, here's my original #SPN pitch from 2004. The pilot story is very different, but the tone always rang clear to me. Could never have imagined what this show became and the good it's done. Humbled and grateful beyond words to you all. #SPNFamily @cw_spn ‘[images of spn pilot’s 4pg script]’“ - 12:08 PM Feb 7, 2019

[source]

Supernatural

Pitch by Eric Kripke August 30, 2004

I. TONE AND WORLD

In one sentence, this is X-FILES meets ROUTE 66. Two brothers, cruising the dusty back roads in their trusty 64 Mustang, battling the things that go bump in the night. But much more than that, it's a show about an obsession of mine...

Throughout the U.S., (especially the MIDDLE, where I'm from), we have a folklore, as uniquely American as baseball, as rich and varied as any world mythology, and almost nobody knows it. For instance, Robert Johnson sold his soul to the Devil, at an abandoned Mississippi crossroads, to be the world's greatest guitarist. But he died violently, poisoned at age 26, screaming about Hellhounds as he choked on his own blood. In the shadowy north woods of Minnesota, lives a creature named the Wendigo. Translated from Native American, it means "evil that devours.” It feeds on human flesh. And even today, dozens of witnesses say it's very real.

There are literally HUNDREDS of these stories and legends and urban legends. There are dark and dangerous things out there in the corners of our country. So here's a show that travels the diverse highways and byways of supernatural America. Black woods, ghost towns, those tourist trap mystery spots. Really, a show ABOUT our country-the bloody, beating heart of America.

Unlike X-FILES, this show isn't Vancouver rainy. It's brighter, more colorful, more VISCERAL, and more irreverent. The humor here is extremely important to me—but it has to arise from the characters and their attitudes. The characters can be funny, but the weekly stories have to be SCARY AS SHIT– I'm talking THE RING; how what you don't see is much more terrifying than what you do. I'm talking about making this series as scary as I possibly can, until you guys call and yell at me.

But I also want the tone to be GROUNDED. Where BUFFY, for example, felt HEIGHTENED, our show should feel like OUR WORLD, real-life America. With a darkness that bubbles and boils just beneath the surface. And I want to keep the weekly stories CREDIBLE- leave 'em with a question mark, the possibility of a rational explanation. Something early X-Files did very well.

Finally, I want this show to capture a certain SPIRIT. For one, that youthful electricity of dropping out and hitting the open road; the freedom of wide-open American spaces. But also, EVERY road trip story-from FEAR and LOATHING to Kerouac to The Odyssey, are inherently mythic quests, hero's journeys, real Joseph Campbell stuff. The way STAR WARS, LORD OF THE RINGS, and MATRIX are all the same story, with the same beats. So our series, too, is an epic hero's quest-- across the United States. Almost like a modern western, and our heroes are gunslingers. Or, as I like to call it - it's STAR WARS in TRUCK STOP AMERICA.

II. CHARACTERS AND FRANCHISE

Now, let's get into establishing our characters, and launching our franchise.

So if this is STAR WARS, meet LUKE SKYWALKER. SAM HARRISON, 21. Think Jake Gyllenhall, or Tobey Maguire. Smart, funny, handsome, maybe a little type-A. He just graduated Stanford with a 4.0, and now he's heading back down to L.A., where he lives with his Aunt and Uncle, he'll spend the summer clerking at a powerful law firm. And in the Fall... Harvard Law, thank you very much. Pedal to the metal, Sam is cruising the track to success. But, like all good Luke Skywalker heroes, Sam is vaguely restless. He tells his girlfriend, maybe he should drop everything this summer and blow off to Europe. But of course, he doesn't. He has too many responsibilities.

Sam's well adjusted, successful life, it's a real triumph, especially considering his background. Fifteen years ago, his dad JACK became increasingly dark and depressed. He drank. A lot. Until Mom and Dad were in a car crash. Dad was driving. He lived. Mom didn't. That triggered a schizophrenic breakdown in Dad. He swore that twisted, dark, horrific things caused that crash and took Mom away. And those same dark things were chasing after him. Dad was institutionalized. But he escaped. And disappeared.

Sam is ashamed of his tragic past. Hates his Dad, blames him for killing Mom, and NEVER, EVER talks about it.

Now, Sam's mythic CALL TO ADVENTURE, the events that will change his life forever, begin simply enough. When his big brother DEAN rolls into town. Meet DEAN HARRISON, 25, think Colin Farrel. If Sam's the good kid, Dean's the troublemaker. If Sam's Luke Skywalker, Dean's Han Solo. Charismatic and dangerous. Cocky confidence masking a troubled soul. Sam hated Dad, but Dean was older and remembered Dad in brighter days, and he worshipped the man. Sam buried his past and ignored it, but Dean was haunted by it, never quite got his shit together. Dean never went to college. Just sort of traveled around. In fact, Sam hasn't heard from Dean in almost 3 years, which Sam clearly resents.

And now... Dean makes Sam a proposition. Let me drive you down to L.A.- it's just one day, we'll get a chance to catch up a little. Reluctant, Sam agrees.

At first, they're enjoying the electric, carefree pleasures of a ROAD TRIP. Top down, radio blaring, singing their lungs out to AC/DC.

But then... at twilight... on an empty stretch of highway... Dean's driving. And he has to make a confession. (Though I'm sure we'll break this up into a few different scenes.) "Sam. There's something I need to tell you," Dean says. “I went looking for Dad. And I found him. Took just about every dime I had, but I found him. And I've been with him, for almost 2 years." Sam is shocked and betrayed: "what?! Why didn't you tell me?!" But Dean continues: "listen. I know this is hard to believe. But Dad WASN'T nuts.

Demons really DID kill Mom. Dark, awful things WERE following Dad. I know. Because I can see them. Because they're following me, too."

Obviously, Sam is BEYOND freaked and well aware that schizophrenia is hereditary. Dean goes on, getting worked up-“so Dad figured out how to kill these things, and he showed me how. Until they caught up to us in Baker. They got Dad. Before I got them." "What do you mean, you GOT them?” asks Sam. “I killed a demon. In human form," says Dean. “You killed somebody?!" "No, I killed a DEMON, it only LOOKED human.” (Which could be a scary, visceral teaser, by the way.) Anyway, DEAN continues: “Listen to me, Sam... it was Dad's wish, his DYING WISH, that I find you, that I teach you the way he taught me.” At this point, Sam goes into placating, survival mode. “Okay. Sure. Just calm down." But Sam's terrified-of his own brother.

Meanwhile, as this conversation's going on, Dean isn't going to L.A. He takes a detour-- for all intents and purposes, kidnapping Sam. They pull into a small, faded, all-American town in Central California. It's 1950's American optimism gone to seed. Basically, they pull right into the pilot's SELF ENCLOSED B-STORY. Whatever it is, the story should be simple, giving us room to focus on the brothers. It should be based in Folklore. And it should be personal—the job their father never completed.

Now, here's an example of exactly the kind of story I'm talking about. The real life ghost story of the "Weeping Woman," a sobbing wraith in a bloody white nightgown. She murdered her children by the river side, as revenge against her unfaithful husband. And today, it's said she lures unfaithful men to the river and drowns them. And sure enough, several MEN in this town have turned up dead by the river's edge. Anyway, something like this. And Dean, despite his smart ass jokes and references to the movie Poltergeist, seems to be taking this SERIOUSLY.

But Sam doesn't believe a WORD of it. First moment he's alone, he calls his Aunt and Uncle. “I'm with Dean, I think he's sick.” They tell him—"cops in Baker found your Dad's body. And a truck driver's body, too. Dean's the suspect. You have to get away! Where are you?!” But before Sam can answer-he pivots, right into Dean. Who grabs the phone, SMASHING it, furious: “Dammit, Sam, I'm not insane," Dean says, “Caspar the unfriendly fucker is really out there!"

Then, as Dean delves deeper and deeper into the ghost story, dragging a reluctant Sam along with him... INEXPLICABLE SUPERNATURAL phenomenon begin to occur, which SERIOUSLY RATTLES Sam. We'll have several good, scary set pieces. And soon, Sam doesn't know WHAT to think. And in the B-STORY'S climax, he'll even save Dean at some crucial point. (Though we'll be careful to leave things open ended, with just the possibility of a logical explanation.)

Afterwards, a beat in which Dean, vulnerable, says to his brother-"I've been thinking. And you're going home, Sam. You're smart, and you've got everything going for you. I don't care what Dad said, I can't let you live like this... Still," says Dean, "it was nice having you around. When you're with somebody... you just don't feel as crazy as

often." Sam's very conflicted, and he feels awful, but he can't just abandon his old life. So the brothers part ways. Sam hitchhikes up the road. Meanwhile, thanks to his Aunt and Uncle, the cops have been searching for Sam, and now they find him.

At the station, Sam tells the cops, Dean's in Colorado by now. But a patrol car has spotted Dean's parked Mustang at a nearby motel. The police grab SHOTGUNS, they're going to take Dean with force. And in the face of ONE PASSING COP, Sam sees-a glimpse. A shimmer. Something DEMONIC and INHUMAN flashes across the cop's face-and then it's gone, just as quick. Did Sam imagine it? Is he going insane, too? Or is Dean really in danger? Are dark, awful things really after him, like he said?

This is Sam's crossroads moment. And he makes a decision-he takes off. Steals a car. Beats the cops back to Dean. Warns him at the last minute. It's very TIGHT and very HECTIC, but Sam and Dean get away. Escaping by the skin of their teeth.

As we leave Sam... he doesn't know if he's losing his mind. He doesn't know if Dean's a hero or a homicidal schizophrenic. All he knows is-Dean's his brother, and he needs help. And for now, that's enough.

III. THE SERIES ITSELF

I think the overall GOAL here, is building an engine that gives us SELF ENCLOSED STORIES. I am gonna pitch some very simple mythology, but STAND ALONES are a format I really believe in, they're the shows I loved and grew up on. Like the best EARLY episodes of X-FILES.

So basically, our two heroes, avenging their parents' death, cruise the golden backroads of America-picture chrome diners and bucolic farms and dusty Route 66 towns. Places that are mythic and American, but also haunting, in a way. Places where horror can strike in broad daylight. Sam and Dean are kind of like classic gunslingers, or dragon slayers, finding-and KILLING—the monsters of American folklore.

So first question-how do they find the damn things? Dean tracks these creatures in a low-tech way. He scans obituaries for strange deaths. Dean also has a loose network of contacts - defrocked ministers and trailer park psychics, who impart information to our heroes whenever necessary.

Second question-how do they KILL the damn things? The answer—they have no fucking idea. They're outgunned and desperate and in completely over their heads. They don't have a WATCHER, like in BUFFY. They don't have an OBI WAN. They're on their own. Each week, they gotta figure out what the hell they're dealing with, and how the hell to kill it. And a lot of the time, they're wrong, and they have to improvise. Whether it's finding a ghost's remains - and burning them into dust; or loading a shotgun with silver buckshot, our guys will do whatever it takes to get the job done.

#2019-Feb #2019:February7 #*spn 1x01 #*SMT #Eric Kripke #Twitter #*scripts

23 notes · View notes

dweemeister · 3 years

Photo

Jungle Book (1942)

For a few years in the early 1940s, a young actor of Indian descent was a household name among America moviegoers. His name was Sabu Dastagir (better known as simply “Sabu”), and he debuted in Robert Flaherty’s The Elephant Boy (1937). Sabu’s performance in The Elephant Boy was enough to convince Hungarian-British producer Alexander Korda to have the young Indian actor star in the 1940 remake of The Thief of Bagdad and, two years later, Jungle Book. Sabu did find film work after his two most iconic motion pictures, but these opportunities proved harder to find in the United States than in Britain. Almost eighty years later, Sabu remains only one of a handful of actors of South Asian descent to achieve even the briefest Hollywood stardom.

As an adaptation of Rudyard Kipling’s The Jungle Book, this is a Korda brothers’ production – eldest brother Alexander produces, middle brother Zoltan directs, and youngest brother Vincent is the art director. Many readers’ point of reference to Kipling’s work is most likely Disney’s animated musical from 1967. Compared to the Disney animated feature, the Korda Jungle Book, distributed by United Artists, is more interested in Mowgli’s interactions with humans, rather than the animals of the jungle. In a time when Technicolor was still relatively new, this Jungle Book contains some of the best use of color in an early 1940s movie. Beyond than the eye-catching palette and then-innovative visual effects, this Jungle Book loses its way anytime Sabu or the wildlife are not on-screen. The original source material, a reflection of Kipling’s imperialist and racist attitudes, also transfers some of those values to this screen adaptation (not related to the plot but in a similarly concerning development, Sabu is the only actor of South Asian descent in a cast almost entirely donning brownface).

In the prologue, an elderly Indian man named Buldeo (Joseph Calleia) regales his fellow villagers and anyone else in the area with tales of the past. When a British woman stop to listen, Buldeo begins the story of Mowgli and how the young boy, raised by wolves and a product of the jungle, came to reintegrate into human society. Unlike Disney’s two Jungle Book adaptations, the Korda Jungle Book cares more for Mowgli’s relationships with humans as opposed to that of the jungle animals. The tiger Shere Khan and the snake Kaa (voiced acted by Mel Blanc) garner plenty of screentime in the film’s closing scenes. But fans of Mowgli’s closest friends – the bear Baloo and the black panther Bagheera – might be disappointed, as they only have glorified cameos. In place of this focus on animals, this film spends ample time on Mowgli’s developing relationships with his mother Messua (Rosemary DeCamp), Buldeo, and Buldeo’s daughter Mahala (Patricia O’Rourke).

The exotified rural India that appears in Jungle Book overshadows most everything about this adaptation, including Sabu’s starring role. That Zoltan Korda, United Artists, and London Films felt no need to cast any other actors of South Asian descent for Jungle Book exemplifies the casual racism that permeates the narrative. The all-white cast playing noble half-savages or passive women is off-putting, fracturing one’s ability to feel as if the events on-screen are not taking place somewhere in sunny Southern California.

Jungle Book’s Indian setting came together at Lake Sherwood near Thousand Oaks, California and what is now known as Sunset Las Palmas Studios in Hollywood, which was then (and still remains) an independent production lot that hosts shoots for various television and cinematic works. Flown onto the sets were hundreds of fauna rented from local farms and zoos and tons of foliage (natural and synthetic), making the jungle scenes – despite the noticeable background or matte painting at times – feel vast and enclosing. And even though it is difficult to distinguish which scenes were shot indoors or outdoors, the amount of water, however improbably still it is in some parts, appearing in the film assists in immersing the audience into this dense environment. For all of the human settlements – in ruins or otherwise – production designers Vincent Korda and Julia Heron (1943’s Hangmen Also Die!, set decorator on 1960’s Spartacus) are not appealing to any sense of cultural understanding appropriateness. Yet the scope of their village and abandoned temple sets are tremendous, with an assist from the incredible matte paintings.

Cinematographers Lee Garmes (1933’s Shanghai Express, 1944’s Since You Went Away) and W. Howard Greene (1937’s A Star is Born, 1951’s When Worlds Collide) use of highly-saturated Technicolor features eye-catching images perfect for this unrealistic reality. Even in the darkest parts of the jungle, the explosion of emerald greens, cool blues, and other earthy colors feels anything but mute, a fantastical version of a rainforest brought to life. The jungle, despite the obvious artificialities in some of the foliage and fauna, almost becomes a character in the Korda Jungle Book. Other artificialities are a shade more convincing, most notably some of the effects required to capture animal movements. Using footage of both mechanical and actual animals alike, Garmes and Greene do their best to hide some strings and wires pulling along stunning mechanical snakes or to allow Bagheera and Shere Khan’s animal actors appear as if they are interacting with the events in the film. For the most dangerous animals that this production features, the black panther and tiger that played Bagheera and Shere Khan, respectively, were separated from the cameras by a glass barrier. This is immaculate visual effects footage, perhaps the film’s saving grace.

youtube

Contrast this with Laurence Stallings’ (1925’s The Big Parade, 1949’s She Wore a Yellow Ribbon) clunker of a screenplay. An inordinate amount of the dialogue is expository and declarative, and too many supporting characters speak in formalities with nary a shred of humor. Jungle Book’s narrative thus feels too formulaic, uptight, and unimaginative. When anyone other than Mowgli or the animals are on-screen, the film is a slog. Kipling’s literary influence on the film might not be apparent in how the humans speak, but it certainly comes through in the most perilous sequences in this movie – and that includes a scene of a forest fire that has to raise questions about animal endangerment on-set at a time with almost no laws against animal mistreatment on film shoots. The Kordas’ Jungle Book works best if seen as an extravagant picture book, but one wishes for Sabu, in a decent performance chockfull of glee, to talk a tad more to the animals.

Hungarian-American composer Miklós Rózsa (1940’s The Thief of Bagdad, 1959’s Ben-Hur) scores perhaps his best body of work owing to elements outside Western classical music. Rózsa’s score to Jungle Book is bolstered by the composer’s detailed research into Hindu music’s chord progressions and modes. His compositions and the orchestration come as close as possible to capturing the harmonic developments of Hindu music as one can while using a Western orchestra. Thus, one can imagine that the music for Jungle Book might be difficult for Indian and non-Indian audiences to appreciate. But as a harmonically complex take on Mowgli’s adventures in the jungle and among humans, this is a bold sound – occupying a space between the melodic demands and orchestration of the West and the wide-ranging tempo and virtuosic harmonic swirls found in classical Hindu music.

The closest analogue to the Kordas’ Jungle Book in this era of Hollywood history must have been the Tarzan series (1932-1948) starring Johnny Weissmuller as the character created by Edgar Rice Burroughs. That, however, is a fraught comparison to make. The Weissmuller Tarzan films were modestly-budgeted and its numerous sequels relied on increasingly laughable contrivances. The Kordas’ Jungle Book is an expensive motion picture leaning on its special effects wizardry while its narrative scarcely makes much of an impression. The premise of Weissmuller and Sabu’s legacies are upon a particular set of roles. By choice, Weissmuller took the roles of jungle-dwelling strongmen. The major Hollywood studios typecasted Sabu – against his wishes – as the urchin, usually a jungle-dweller, from an exotic Asian locale.

This Jungle Book is, for an older generation, a foundational film of their childhood (although I reject any attempts to label this as a children’s film) and an unmitigated technical achievement. In numerous ways, it is also a prime example of how Hollywood viewed Asian influences and actors of Asian descent for decades to come.

My rating: 6/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

29 notes · View notes

awesomerextyphoon · 3 years

Text

A Warrior’s Heart | Phase 1: Welcome – 3

A Hero’s Welcome?

Summary: When someone with a connection to Steve’s past dies, he’s reminded of the promise he made to Dr. Erskine and whether or not he’s failed. Can Ife help him see that he hasn’t?

Characters: Steve Rogers, Ifekerenma ‘Ife’, Abraham Erskine (mentioned), Marlene Erskine (mentioned), Nick Fury, Eliza Maza, Azeneth Ramirez

Main Pairing: Stucky x Black!OFC (Ifekerenma ‘Ife’)

Rating: 18+/Explicit

Word Count: 5,801

Warnings: Depression, Talk of Death, Slightly Cynical Steve, Politics, Smutty Thoughts

A/N: I’m sorry that this so long. I really wanted to try something different with Erskine and the time around CA:TFA. Also, I wanted to explore how Steve would be feeling right after AoU (little bit of a downer, but it will get better). Furthermore, this story will diverge a bit from MCU in terms of Steve’s and Bucky’s abilities. Feedback is welcomed and greatly appreciated. Dividers were by the lovely @firefly-graphics. Thanks to @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog for the beta!

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

<<Previous

Early June 2015

“What do you have to report, Ifekerenma?”

Ife pursed her lips together,”Wanda is doing well with her training. Djamila and Nazaret had some sung her praises during their first session.”

It took a few days to convince the team and Fury to let her friends train Wanda. Luckily Nat had her back and Wanda was able to show the compound how much she improved from what Ife was able to teach her. Unfortunately, Azeneth was unable to make it due to being tied up with a BNA mission and relocating to the NYC division.

“That’s good to hear. Have you made made any progress with the others?”

Ife’s eyes casted down in thought. Vision was a no-go for now. Pietro was warming up to her, but he thought she was still suspicious (wasn’t wrong). She didn’t want to try Rhodey yet (too close to Tony). Nat was..difficult; she’ll try again later.

“I’m going to try Steve next. He seems like a safe bet, even with the serum. Hopefully, he won’t catch before it’s time. I will need Erskine’s folder though.”

Eliza’s lips turned upward in a small smile, “Agreed. I’ll have it sent to you within the hour. Best of luck, Ife.”

And with that, Ife got dressed and headed towards the common room.

Steve leaned back and clasped his hands together behind his head in thought and vexation.

The 21st century must be fucking with him.

Right after Operation ‘Captain Briar Rose’, Steve went to Brooklyn. He could barely find any trace of his old neighborhood. The apartment complex where he and his mother lived was now a ritzy condominium with a Starbucks on the ground level.

All of the places he’d go with Bucky were now soulless veneers filled with empty promises of ‘happiness’ or ‘self-esteem’.

He remembered the time Bucky bailed him out of yet another beating by Arnie and his gang back in 1928. His mother berated him for getting in yet another fight while Bucky’s mom laughed and treated them to ice cream from the local sweets parlor. Bucky’s sisters – Rebecca, Rose, and Annabelle – were making a fuss and bursted out in giggles when Annabelle got ice cream in Bucky’s hair. It was one of the best days that year.

A T-Mobile now stands in its place.

All of his friends and comrades save Bucky and Peggy are dead; he nearly bawled in the middle of briefing when found out that Timothy ‘Dum Dum’ Dugan died and had a cry alone in his quarters afterwards.

Felt shitty about the current state of the country. It seemed as though everything has gotten worse. He found out about the Gulf, Afghanistan, and Iraq Wars. How income and wealth inequality has somehow gotten as bad as, if not worse, than the Gilded Age. Corruption has turned DC and NYC into dog and pony show.

He was furious at all of the politicians and corporations that wanted him to endorse them or their actions. They wanted Captain America’s helmet and shield to mask their heinous acts. They were the same if not worse than Senator Brandt.

Some days Steve wished SHIELD let him stay in the ice. Even worse, there were days he felt that Captain America was for an America that never was.

Nowadays, he felt even more like an anomaly.

It started when he got out of the ice. He felt a lot stronger and faster; only Thor knew the extent of it and he has to hold back a lot when fighting for fear of government asking for more of his blood. Though he suspected Ife and Natasha might be onto him.

He was a lot hungrier than before he went on ice as well. Often time, he would have late night ‘dinners’ (now it's every night), To be honest, he was a bit embarrassed at how much he ate, though the thought of pinning the blame on Ife did cross his mind. It wouldn’t work due to Ife almost never eating with the team and Sam said that he would know if Ife was the culprit. Steve suspected that Ife has been using her connections to restock the food between when he retired to his quarters and before the rest of the team came for breakfast. Also, she kept leaving him fun pop culture facts and media recommendations for the night.

Steve didn’t feel he could go to Dr. Cho since he doubted she had anything to go on in his case.

He did wonder if Ife could help him. She seemed to like helping the team and she was knowledgable about Non-Humans. Wanda’s rapid improvement in her powers and control bolstered his decision.

Sighing, Steve sat up straight in his chair and picked up the letter he received that morning. Marlene Philomena Erskine had passed away and he was invited to her funeral.

It was sad to have yet another link to his past slip from his grasp.

Steve was finishing up another book to fight off his jitters. It was the night before the operation and he needed to have a few moments of respite from the war.

He was so engrossed in what he was reading that he failed to notice Dr. Erskine entering.

Erskine, for his part, was eyeing several books in Rogers’ makeshift bookshelf: They Odyssey, Of Mice and Men, Murder on the Orient Express, Tender is the Night, Their Eyes Were Watching God, Homage to Catalonia, and To Have and have Not.

“What do you think of the book?” Erskine asked as he sat across the startled recruit.

“Just finished. Y’think it wise to get buzzed before a major operation, sir?” Steve noted when he saw the bottle and two shot glasses on the bed.

Erskine chucked, “Calms my nerves a bit. What did you think of the book?”

Steve pressed his lips together for a moment, “It was a good read. The book had a lot of good points for something written eleven years ago.”

“What truths?”

“Well, for one thing, how technology is used to make the populace happy, but not better. The World Government found a way to get people to willingly trade self-expression, self-awareness, and their happiness for cheap happiness and comfort. Makes you wonder if the US was next, you know?”

Erskine was taken aback by his answer. It was much deeper than most of commanding officers gave if they even read the book.

Though that last sentence was interesting.

“What do you mean next?”

“Isn’t that what happened in Germany?”

Erskine sighed, “Yes and no. Most people here think Hitler came out of nowhere, but he didn’t. Not everyone in Germany was for WWI. There was a 100,000 person march in Berlin, but it didn’t matter since the Social Democratic Party failed to rise to the occasion and went along with war effort. Many were scapegoated for Germany failure, Matthias Erzberger for instance.”

“What about the Weimar Republic?”

Once again, Erskine was taken aback by Steve’s knowledge, “Weimar Germany was a great place to be creative, curious, and make new discoveries. I met my wife, Greta, in Berlin during that time. I made a lot of friends, friends I had to leave behind.”

Erskine frowned as his face darkened,”The terrible thing, my friend, was not that Hitler was dangerous, it was that either people didn’t take him as the threat he was or they wanted to use him for their own ends. The cops and judges sympathized with the Nazi Party to get one over the Socialists and Communists. Industrialists wanted to make money off of the Nazis getting into power. Even the German and International newspapers didn’t cover him with the urgency required.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Ja, and it almost happened here, didn’t it?”

Steve nodded in reference to the America First movement and the German American Bund. He still remembers getting the crap beaten out of him by the Silver Shirts when he spoke out against them a few years ago.

“So why did you choose me?”

“I suppose that is the best question.” Erskine admitted while glancing at Steve’s bookshelf, “What do you think of the Odyssey?”

Steve shrugged, “The adventures were fun, but they were just fantasy.”

“They may not be, Mein Freund. How old do you think I am?”

“Uh, mid sixties?”

Erskine laughed, “You’re too kind. I will be 94 this September,” he smiled noting Steve’s shock, “Things are not always as they seem. I come from a long line of ‘healers’ dating back to before Rome. One of them was able to ‘make a man more’. They inspired me to go into this profession.”

“Making super soldiers?”

“Medicine and bio-chemical engineering.”

“Oh”

“Did you know that you will not be first to undergo this?”

“Who was?”

“His name was Konrad Jager. He was a lot like you: small, frail, but had a great deal of courage and compassion. He was willing to fight Nazis in the streets knowing he’d lose. One day in 1930, his parents begged me to save him as the doctors had given up all hope.

I was woking on a serum that would make the body impervious to all diseases rather than wait for the next outbreak to occur. I thought it would propel the medical field.

The trial worked and he was healed. He became much taller and broader in size as a result.”

Erskine pulled out a picture of himself next to a tall, well-built young man.

“That’s Konrad isn’t it?”

“Yes. I was able to help eight more people through the earlier version of the serum. All but one turned out well.”

“What happened to the one?”

“Ah yes, Eren Kant. He was a shy young man before the serum, but then became more like Hodge: a philander, arrogant, and bit of a bully with a temper. He ‘grew too big for his britches’ as one would say and was arrested by the Munich police. He let his arrogance blind him and he escaped in a way that intrigued Der Fuhrer and was taken to Berlin soon after. By this time, rumors had spread of my work and the Nazis were anxious to be the ‘best of the Aryans’. They were able to get my whereabouts from Eren and sent Schmitt to fetch me, but I was already on my way to Switzerland when he reached my home.”

“How did he get you?”

Erskine slightly jerked his head to the side and back, “A year prior to my attempted escape, I met a man in Geneva who warned of the dangers that lied in Berlin. He gave me his card if I needed to escape. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have waited so long before I made the phone call. I was tipped off by an old colleague of Eren entering Nazi custody.

Everything was set. My family and I were to enter Switzerland by crossing Lake Constance. We made it to Meerburg and the lake was in sight when Schmitt and his agents cut us off.

Schmitt believed that there was a power left behind by the gods. He believed himself to be a leader of a new race of men. He wanted me to ‘perfect the serum’, make him stronger than Eren. He had my children, Klaus and Marlene, taken to the outskirts of town as insurance implying that they would be sent to Dachau if I should fail.

I stalled for as long as I could hoping Schmitt would forget about me, but it was not meant to be. A few years after I was taken hostage, Schmitt stormed into my lab and pointed a gun to Greta demanding I give him the serum.”

“Did it make him stronger than Eren?”

“It did, but it had...side effects. The serum was not ready. Schmitt’s skin turned red and his face became so disfigured that Hitler called him the Red Skull. He killed Greta with his bare hands,” Erskine wiped away a few tears, “and ordered Marlene and Klaus to be sent to Dachau while I was banished to the dungeons.

Fortunately, Agent Carter and the SOE were able to save Marlene and myself. Though Klaus sacrificed himself when the agents could only save one of them.”

“Your son is a hero.”

“I only wish I could’ve told him that myself. But, back to your original question. I chose you because, like Konrad, you are a weak man. You see, the serum amplifies everything; good becomes great and awe-inspiring, bad becomes worse and a nightmare. Men who are strong their entire lives often do not value strength and abuses it. However, a weak man who is compassionate and brave will use it to help others. You were chosen because you had the aforementioned virtues and because you use your mind.

The world does not need perfect soldiers, look where that has gotten us. No, what we need right now are good men.”

Erskine poured out two shots and gave a glass to Steve.

Steve raised his glass, “To the little guys.”

The liquor was just about to touch his lips when Erskine snatched the glass from him, “What are you doing? You have an operation tomorrow. No fluids.”

Steve chuckled as Erskine bid him farewell and good luck tomorrow.

Ife found Steve in the Common Room hunched over a chair with a letter in his hands. Emotional echoes of gloom came off in waves as she approached him.

“Whatcha looking at, Steve?”

When Steve didn’t respond, she gently placed a hand on his shoulder, “What’s wrong?”

Steve finally turned to Ife, “I received an invite to a funeral. It’s for Marlene Philomena Erskine, Dr. Abraham Erskine’s daughter.”

Ife nodded in understanding; he feels that he failed Marlene by not protecting Dr. Abraham Erskine.

But in fact, he didn’t fail her.

She lived quite the life for a human.

Not long after her father’s assassination, Marlene became a badass mechanical engineer and physicist. Her designs and schematics for transportation vehicles and energy storage/distribution gave the colonizer nations a fighting chance during the Wars Against Colonialism.

Though part of it was because the UA was a little cocky at that point. Marlene sure lit a fire under their ass! Ife can still hear her Aunt Eziamaka pouting at the news of one of UA bases nearly falling into their control.

Marlene’s assistance with the war effort didn’t last long as her gratitude towards the people who saved both her and her father wasn’t enough to overlook the Military’s treatment of some her colleagues.

Her life from there was pretty standard. She became a professor at MIT, got married and had a few kids.

BNA took her off the ‘humans of special interest’ list in 1971.

Thinking back on it, Marlene may have had a better life by her father not making it past WWII.

Though Ife thought it would be wise not to mention this to Steve.

“When is the funeral?”

Steve didn’t raise his head, “It’s in a week.”

“In that case, might I accompany you?”

“Yes...and thank you.”

“No Problem! See you later.” Ife wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug and went on her way leaving Steve slightly bewildered.

Steve didn’t know what to make of Ifekerenma.

She was always asked the team how they were feeling at what seemed to be the right moment. Shoot, she even talked to custodial staff that few of ever acknowledge. Compassionate to nearly everyone, especially the child hostages during the last mission.

She’s nerdy to the point of Sam jokingly calling her a weeb (anime lover?) when she walked around in an oversized Cowboy Bebop t-shirt once. Wanda mentioned a ‘digital friend’ in her room and caught her mentioning how slow Stark’s tech was much to the amusement of team at Tony’s expense.

Steve’s certain Nat sent Clint a video of the whole thing.

Also, she was what Sam called a ‘Supreme Chef’. He contently patted his midsection remembering the feast she prepared for the team last night. Her cooking would’ve put some of Stark’s gourmet chefs to shame. She asked the team what they liked and she ended up having to create a dinner rotation. Steve was especially touched when she went to an antique bookstore for a recipe that was close to what his mother would’ve made for him.

Furthermore, she would leave out little homemade treats/ snacks at night. Pietro and Sam would sneak some when they thought no one was looking. She even giggled when he accidentally let out a huge belch after an amazing dinner a couple nights ago saying it’s a sign of thanks on her home planet, Avlenia.

Ife always called him Steve; not ‘Captain’ or ‘Cap’ or even ‘Good ol’Century Virgin’ (damn it, Tony!). She never made light of him ‘taking an ice nap’ or asking him about the 1940s in a demeaning way like some reporters and ‘little upstarts on social media’. Somehow, Ife found out about his love of drawing and got him art supplies with a list of recommended artists

She made him feel more like a person and not a symbol or a far off figure who’s emotionless.

Steve felt warm whenever he was around her in a way not unlike Bucky or Peggy though much more like Bucky. She seemed to sense that he was desperate to truly be seen in way that only Sam and sometimes Nat has.

It also didn’t hurt that she was a total knockout. He had the, ahem, pleasure of seeing her out of her uniform and training outfits a few times. She usually wore clothes that were more on the modest side...except for that one time when she wore a Sailor Moon crop top and high-waisted shorts as a dare from Nat. Half of the compound was staring and Steve spent most of the day in his quarters nursing a hard on he was so aroused.

And yet, Ife was one of the toughest women he knew; even Nat was a little scared of her (at least, he thinks). She might be the strongest person physically and she doesn’t take shit from people who badmouth her or the team; Agent Roussel learned that the hard way.

All in all, Ife was...something else, someone he wanted to get close to.

The day of Marlene’s funeral started out well enough.

Ife spent the early morning making Sam’s request of cinnamon rolls, sausage, omelettes, waffles, and hash browns since he won the raffle of Vision’s turn as he doesn’t eat.

She was handing out everyone’s first servings (didn’t care what happened afterwards) when she felt Steve’s emotional echoes of depression, melancholy, and despair noting how his eyebrows furrowed and how tense his body language was.

She just hoped she could get to him.

Steve was walking to garage hoping his outfit wasn’t too much.

Nat somehow convinced him into wearing a Highbridge Black Custom Suit with an Eastley Dobbey Blue Shirt, a Black Solid Tie, a Navy Blue Pocket Square, and Ink Black Dress Shoes.

He ‘upped the swoon dial’ as Nat put it. Could’ve sworn he heard Sam snickering.

Steve reached the entrance hoping not to keep Ife waiting when he heard clicking of heels behind him.

He turned around to find Ife looking almost unearthly.

She was wearing a black Ankara (?) dress with a cape that was black on the outside and golden on the inside with various blue, silver, and khaki rectangle clusters. Her hair was mostly contained in a wrap with a few strands framing her lovely face. Her full, plump lips were coated in a Light Plum (?) Matte Lipstick and she wore minimal gold eye shadow.

Her outfit did a splendid job of hinting at her voluptuous curves without needlessly flaunting them like the women who throw themselves at him at press tours.

Ife smiled at him and asked which car were they taking.

Steve motioned to one of the Black SUVs and the two of them strapped in for the three hour car ride.

Ife sighed and gazed out the window at the scenery. Neither one of them had said anything in the past twenty minutes. Steve wasn’t a fan of most of the music that’s on the radio despite Sam’s best efforts. Ife had to break out her puppy dog eyes to get him to let them listen to some instrumental music from her favorite movies.

It seemed that they weren’t going to say anything until Steve cleared his throat.

Ife, not wanting to suffer in silence, decided break it, “How did you know Marlene?”

Steve raided his eyebrows for a split second, “I didn’t. I just feel like I should pay my respects, you know? I mean, I should attend the daughter of the man I failed’s funeral.”

The last sentence struck a chord with Ife. Emotional echoes of despair hit her like a tsunami.

Tentatively, Ife continued, “How did you fail Erskine?”

“I-I don’t think I’ve fulfilled my promise to him. The country has changed so much since I was on ice. It’s funny; I thought that Brave New World would only have a one of two aspects come to life, but I didn’t see nearly the whole book being right.”

Ife didn’t argue with the last two points. The US was nothing but a never-ending commercial sometimes. People were too busy being ‘happy’ or trying to get the newest thrill to realize that they were living in a sham of a republic.

Though she was concerned about the first sentence.

“What was the promise you made to Erskine? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Steve turned slightly, “To be true to who I am; a good man, not a perfect soldier. To be more like Konrad.”

Ife nodded musing on his answer. Erskine would want everyone he helped to be a good person considering the dangers of such power.

Though she wondered if she knew Dr Abraham’s full history.

Abraham Erskine came from a long line of Homo Magis who specialized in Alchemy . He turned to science when it was clear that his magical powers would never manifest (being only 1/16 Homo Magi). Erskine started working on what would become the Super Soldier Serum in 1920 after the witnessing the horrors of WWI firsthand as a medic.

He made a breakthrough in 1927 when he found what looked to be an old power cell in the attic of his childhood home. Turns out it was a modified Atlantean battery dating back to the 1600s, but whatever.

Konrad Jager was the first of nine volunteers; most of whom went on to fight in the Spanish Civil War with the International Brigades and be part of the German Resistance’s Special Forces during WWII.

Needless to say, they were recruited into BNA’s European Division.

Only Eren Kant was deemed a failure in the end.

Ife shook her head at the info in Erskine’s folder.

Eren was pompous dumbass who broke himself out jail by bending/breaking the bars of his cell after getting arrested for being a player and bully by the Munich Police in August of 1935. His show of superhuman strength got Erskine’s work onto the Hitler’s radar. BNA had to send a cleaner to ‘handle’ Eren before he could get everyone in even more trouble.

She wondered if Konrad and the others would make an appearance.

“What do mean by not staying true to yourself?”

Steve sighed, “It seemed a lot easier to do so in my time.”

Ife wanted to go further, but she couldn’t. Steve was punishing himself up for something he couldn't control and it was tragic.

She hoped that she could actually help him, not for the mission, but for himself.

They arrived at the venue twenty minutes early. Steve was trying (failing) to fix his tie while Ife was looking as glamorous and poised as can be.

Sensing Steve’s unease, she gave his hand a comforting squeeze, “You’ll do fine,” she whispered as she fixed his tie while not trying inhale his delicious natural scent like a creep (again).

“Let’s go inside.”

Everyone seemed to stop what they were doing when they entered the venue. Though Ife had to hand it to the guests; no one asked Steve for an autograph or a selfie. She noted several BNA officials and a couple of Earth-based Non-Human big wigs in attendance.

Guess Marlene was popular.

“Ife!” Azeneth shouted as she strode over to from a corner and enveloped her in a hug.

“Azeneth, how are you? I didn’t think you would be back from Mexico City so soon.”

“Well, the mission was short and they wanted me in New York to accompany Eliza here. Now, who is this fine gentleman, Ife?” Azeneth queried while Steve started shifting uncomfortably.

“This is Steve Rogers, one of my new teammates and Ca-”

“Captain America. I know, Ife. I was jesting.”

Ife sighed dramatically while rolling her eyes, “Steve, this is Azeneth. She’s one of my best Earth-based friends.”

“Kickass friend.” Azeneth corrected, “How are you liking Ife? She’s not too much trouble.”

“Stop it, ‘Aze!” Ife playfully hit Azeneth’s shoulder, “Feel free to ignore her, Steve.”

“Hmm, no. I don’t think I will, especially after the stunt you pulled on the first day at the compound.”

Azeneth burst out laughing at Ife’s shocked expression and Steve’s sly grin. She probably would’ve kept goin if not for Eliza cutting into their conversation.

“Excuse us, Mr. Rogers. I’ll have to speak with Ife for a moment. My name’s Eliza Maza, by the way.”

Once they were out of Steve’s line of sight (Azeneth was keeping him busy), Eliza activated a noise canceller.

“So did anyone die in the attack on the Magic Council?” Ife asked as she made sure Steve wasn’t looking at them.

“No one was harmed, but several books are missing from the library.”

“Shit! Okay. Well, would Dr. Strange be available to assist Wanda with her training? Wong and Nazaret are at the Sanctum and he said that he knew of some spells that could help.”

“I’ll look into it. I should have an answer in a week”

“Okay.”

“Ife, please give me a call when you get back to the compound.”

Ife eyed Konrad Jager, Gregor Eisenberg, Sonje Decker, and Lukas Denhart making their way to Steve. She hoped they weren’t going to drop an info bomb on him today.

“I will.”

The service was short and sweet as Marlene didn’t want everyone to be bored to tears on her behalf. The crowd got a laugh out that joke.

Afterwards, Marlene granddaughter, Zahara, requested if Steve could stay for a bit. She gave him a beautifully wrapped package.

“My grandmother wanted you to have this. She saw you fighting in the Battle of New York and knew you would know what to do with it.”

“It would be an honor, Miss.”

Ife thought about her earlier conversation with Steve on the say back. She realized what’s happened to Steve was heartbreaking.

Here was a man who gave up everything for a country that only wants him as a cudgel for their heinous deeds. Someone who, if he hadn’t fallen into the ice, would’ve probably been ruined by the same country he swore to protect. They would’ve labeled him as a communist and destroyed his good name for not immediately getting on board with the next war.

To be honest, Ife didn’t think much of Steve before joining the team. She thought he was just the banner boy for colonizers to feel good; he was the reminder of that brief moment when the US was totally the bad guys (totally being the operative word).

But now?

She saw the toll the helmet and shield had on him. Ife doubted he knew that he was going to be alive for awhile judging how neither Konrad or the others aged a day since they received Serum 1.0 and Steve supposedly got one that was at least 3x as powerful.

She wanted to comfort him somehow, but she was lost on what to do.

When she got back to the compound, she gave Steve a hug and went straight to her quarters to call Eliza.

“Eliza. I can’t do this by myself, and if we’re going to pull this off, I’m going to need some serious backup because the Avengers need some serious help.”

Fury was going through some mission reports when he heard a knock on his door.

“Come in.”

Oddly enough, Ife was the one to enter the room and not Maria Hill.

“Good Evening, Fury. I have someone who would like speak with you.”

“Well, give me a name and contact info and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Actually,” Ife reached in her pocket for a disc, “I can do you one better.”

Ife tossed the disc into the air and a moon-door portal formed from it. Out came Eliza, Azeneth, and Angela in her gargoyle form.

Eliza gave Ife a quick nod and turned to Fury, “Good Evening, Nicolas Fury. My name is Eliza Maza and we’re from the Bureau of Non-Human Affairs or BNA. I would advice that you lower your weapon. It won’t do you a lick of good,” Fury lowered his gun,” Good. Put Maria Rambeau on speaker, we need to talk.”

-Somewhere in France-

Maeve was enjoying her brunch while watching the footage of Eliza officially making contact with new SHIELD and SWORD.

“Well, it looks like it’s time to ‘get the band back together’ as the kids would say.” She chirped to the woman across the table.

“That expression pretty much died in the 90s. No ‘kid’ uses that phrase anymore.” Koronis deadpanned.

Maeve scoffed, “Anyone born after 1800 is a ‘child’ to me. This is what I get for trying not to sound like ‘an old hag’ as you put it.”

“Well, is everything on track?”

Koronis, or Carol, closed her eyes for few seconds, “I see nothing standing in our organization’s way. However, we should have the meeting sooner rather than later.”

“Duly noted. Anything else?”

“The new variable, Ifekerenma, will be more useful to our plans than I originally anticipated.”

“Oh, I do love surprises! I mean, I know how it will end, but I still like to be at least a little surprised. I knew it was a good idea to let Klaue be discovered by Ultron in Istanbul!”

Another woman walked up to the pair,”You wanted to see me, Mistress?”

“Yes. Svetlana, call the others. It’s time to put our plan into high gear. Hell’s Moon is upon us.”

Steve was having a shitty birthday.

The press was pestering him about the presidential election. Several outlets have called him a sellout and a coward for not endorsing anyone.

He was figuring out the best way to take a shower and hit the hay in less than 30 minutes when he found a beautifully written note taped to his door.

It said to come to Ife room wearing his best dancing clothes.

Ten minutes later, Steve knocked on her door and it instantly opened to reveal a modest dancing hall not unlike the ones he went to with Bucky before the war.

He was so lost in thoughts admiring the place that he failed to notice Ife hovering a few feet from him.

“Happy Birthday, Steve! How do you like it?”

Steve turned to see Ife in a knee-length golden yellow African Wax Print Ankara dress with cold shoulders, ruffled sleeves, and a v-neckline. He didn’t miss the modest view of her cleavage or how her legs looked oh, so smooth in the dress.

Ife, for her part, was super nervous about this. Nat said that people went to dance halls all the time in the late 1930s and 1940s and it took her five days to get the architecture, the music, and the lighting just right.

She hoped that Steve wouldn’t be angry with her.

Steve looked incredibly handsome in his simple dress shirt and slacks. His powerful shoulders, thick biceps, trim waist, and beefy thighs were accentuated by the lighting which made him look like he was glowing.

Ife would’ve drooled if she knew that he didn’t like it when most women would throw themselves at him.

“It’s amazing. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry about the dress. I couldn-”

Steve raised a hand to stop her from going off on a tangent,”You look beautiful.”

Ife felt a flurry of warmth in her core at the compliment.

“So, what would like to do?”

Before Steve could answer, Duke Ellington’s Don’t Mean a Thing starting playing.

Steve stretched out his hand, “Would you like to dance?”

Ife took his had and they glided onto the dance floor.

“Where did you learn to dance?”

“Bucky’s mom made us learn when Bucky started getting attention from the girls at school. She thought it best that we knew how to treat them to a good time.”

“I see,” Ife giggled, “Then she was wise to make take the lessons. Though I’m more familiar with the jitterbug.”

Steve chuckled as they resumed swinging. He hummed a bit as they danced to Ella Fitzgerald, Caro Emerald, Jo Stafford, Billie Holiday, and Gene Krupa.

Ife was impressed with Steve’s dancing skills. What were those women thinking passing him up like that?!

After a couple more rounds of dancing, the music shifted to something more modern but not (it was Howl’s Moving Castle’s Main Theme) , the colors on the walls and ceiling brightened, and several chandeliers formed on the ceiling.

Steve gave Ife a slightly confused look and asked her if she would like to try a waltz this time.

The song lasted a little more than five minutes. Steve was somehow able to lead their movements in sync with the song.

Ife felt her body was aflame with gentle yet commanding touches Steve was giving her. He even lifted her a few times making her feel as though she was flying with how gently he held her.

They were absorbed in their own world they either failed to notice or ignored Nat and Wanda entering Ife room to see if they could have another spa day. Nat even got a few pictures of the two dancing.

Steve gave Ife one last life during the climax and pulled her in when the music came to a close. They were about to come in for a kiss when Ife pressed her lips together and back away.

“We should probably retire for evening. Goodnight, Steve.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped in defeat, but left Ife’s room with a simple goodnight with Nat and Wanda in tow.

Ife frowned. She knew Steve wasn’t in the best place for a relationship and her conscience wouldn’t let her take advantage of that.

51 notes · View notes

bookandcover · 3 years

Photo

This was an absolutely beautiful novel with a subtle allure that will linger in my mind for a long time. I love Miller’s writing style, which seems to pay homage to the Classics she loves and studies in depth.

It’s rare to meet a main character who is immortal, but here we have Circe, side figure in The Odyssey where she is painted primarily as a villain, born of an ancient god and a river nymph, yet living alone and on the fringes of the social stratification among humans and gods—a situation which, Miller must have intuited, bespeaks a woman who has not conformed to society’s expectations for her, the quintessential “witch.” What could growth of character within the experience of immortality possibly look like? This seems to me to present a real literary challenge, as so many books rely on character development, a change in the protagonist from beginning to end. Why would someone who is immortal grow or change? Why would their life play out with any type of directionality or plot arc?

I realized these problems with an immortal heroine part way through the book and started to ask how the structure of a novel could be forced onto the life of an immortal. How could Miller’s novel end? What makes the conflict and the resolution when the novel started with her birth? If Circe lives on and on, what might tell us that some part of her story has arrived at an ending?

These questions get brilliantly answered as (spoiler!!) Circle chooses mortality. In the process of the protagonist making this choice, the book poignantly reflects on what gives life meaning. Is immortality meaningless, when we have no motivation for growth and no motivation for life itself, as each day, each forever, we could do and try anything, ad infinitum? Is it our mortality, and our awareness of it, that makes any moment meaningful and life-changing? The meaning-making power of mortality is something Circe sees, and longs for herself, in observing the mortal lives around her. But it takes her falling in love with a mortal—Telemachus, strangely the son of her once-lover Odysseus—to make the final change in her, to bring about her own mortality through her magic. Circe’s relationships with both Odysseus and Telemachus capture the strangeness of immortality, as she is able to experience the lives and love of both men in a kind of stasis, while they change and age. Yet, Circe herself is changing internally and she is changed by each of her lovers. She is different when she loves Telemachus, softer and more open, although, in part, this must be Telemachus’s goodness to which she responds.

This book was incredibly satisfying, but also challenging (i.e. I didn’t always agree) in its re-characterization of familiar characters. Odysseus, who I kind of dislike in the original source text (sure, he wants to go home, but he also seems to be really “out there for the adventure”), was characterized according to his most epithet-worthy traits, a man so twisted by his own mind’s machinations that he doesn’t have much space for kindness or for receiving other people as people (this characterization seems pretty accurate to the original text). He’s also strongly associated with his true love for Penelope, a love he speaks about and references, but that seems strangely performative here (particularly as he falls willingly into Circe’s bed). I actually think Odysseus of the original text seems more likable, more loyal when compared to this portrait of him. I think he was characterized as too likable, too charged with uniqueness, in the middle part of this book when he’s first introduced, and while I felt weird about his affair with Circe, his preciousness is later dramatically challenged via the viewpoints of his sons. Telemachus, much gentler than Odysseus, is haunted by the murders he committed, on his father’s orders, of the maids Penelope’s suitors took for lovers during their sojourn in the palace. Circe’s son Telegonus is drawn to Odysseus and longs to go him, leaving Circe in order to go to Ithaca, only to accidentally kill the king with the weapon he’d brought with him (the string ray tail of Trigon given to him by Circe as a form of protection) when the king of Ithaca’s tries to seize it from his son who he will not listen to. We also see the ending of The Odyssey when Odysseus returns home and destroys the suitors through Telemachus’s eyes, the shocking changes in Odysseus, mad with suspicion, who is willing to eliminate all the nobility of his island country who have tried to usurp his place in his long absence.

I really love both Telemachus and Penelope in the original, and Telemachus offers, in so many ways, the counter-point to his father’s harshness and objectivity, both in The Odyssey and in Miller’s novel. Is Telemachus the man who modern readers will feel most drawn to in The Odyssey (I felt this, and would theorize that his virtues are widely appreciated)? Does his popularity—and the, therefore, fitting choice to have him be the real romantic love interest in Miller’s novel—reflect changing standards of masculinity with culture and time (is Telemachus admired in time periods later than that of pillaging Greece?) or a change in The Odyssey’s readership, as Telemachus appeals to female readers who once wouldn’t have consumed any reading, and especially classical reading, at a high volume? Selecting Telemachus, the ideal man, to play the romantic lead seems like a smart update of this text for the 21st Century audience.

This is my son, mine own Telemachus, To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,— Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil This labour, by slow prudence to make mild A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees Subdue them to the useful and the good. Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere Of common duties, decent not to fail In offices of tenderness, and pay Meet adoration to my household gods, When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.

~an excerpt from Ulysses by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Miller’s novel reminded me, though, of how much more I adore The Iliad than The Odyssey, and examining the casting of Telemachus as the ultimate love interest over Odysseus, Hermes, and Daedalus, reminded me of the character that I’ve seen modern audiences most deeply adore: Hector. Several years ago, my new co-worker and I bonded over reading a student’s personal statement for college that was all about his love for Hector from The Iliad. This moment felt like joining a secret club of people who inherently understood each other, who felt some deep recognition of each other, who felt seen, because we loved and treasured Hector. “Hector, am I right?” “YES. Hector.” Hector was something beyond any words we had to explain him. We just GOT IT. I loved seeing a 17-year-old boy from Beijing, China read The Iliad and be like “HECTOR THOUGH” to me and to his other teacher. Hector is the softer counter-point to Achilles in The Iliad, the family-man, the son, the brother, the golden Prince of Troy. He is steadfast beside Paris’s ridiculousness. He’s the son for whom his old father will risk his life to reclaim his body. He’s the nearly unbeatable warrior who also gets the most touching of moments, gently holding his toddler, speaking with his clever wife. This is the man across Homer’s two books who was, for me, the most modern-day ideal. Maybe Hector has to remain, though, for all of us, shared among our common imaginations. Telemachus, it was fine if Circe claimed him.

Circe, at the beginning of the novel, is not a likable heroine. She’s clueless, bumbling, not attentive to way she’s being used by others. She doesn’t seem to have a lot of backbone. Yet, I was astonished at how much she changed and how beautifully wrought the gradual changes in her were. As she grows in independence, she grows immensely in likability. Although she has a happy ending with Telemachus, this love story somehow never felt inevitable. The different men she loves are part of her story. Yes, she is shaped by them, as she is shaped by her friendships, her rivalries, her relationships with her horrifying siblings. But the story is all about her. Circe is the center and her experiences with lovers shape her and her growth; she is not a side character in someone else’s story, bending to support them. She does change her immortality in response to love (in the sense of trying to fit herself to what someone else expects), but she brings about this change through her own power and strength of will. I can’t explain this right, but it’s true: it feels like a revolutionary notion that an independent woman be the main character and the story be just her story: the things she goes through on her own, with others, others passing through her life, her thoughts and feelings, her sequence of growth. It doesn’t sound revolutionary because we see female protagonists maybe 50% of the time these days across many genres (how far we’ve come!) yet how often do we see love interests exist in plots not to further the love itself (not to be arrived at, as a happy end point, a relationship, a marriage), but to further the growth of the female protagonist? Men, somehow, get to be the center of their own stories. Women, do they really get to have this? To be just THEM, and not be playing any role within society or within a family? Circe’s story arc made me SEE her as the main character in a way that somehow far too many female-led narratives utterly miss.

I realized, for the first time (which is frankly alarming), while reading this book that because Ithaca (New York, in my case) is my birthplace, I ought to feel a strange affinity for Odysseus. Ithaca is home. It has a mythic quality. I’ve lived in a lot of places. I’ve traveled a lot. I’ve seen things, people, landscapes, creatures beyond what I could have imagined. My life has been my own odyssey, and I’ve left Ithaca far behind. Unlike Odysseus, I’m not trying to go back. The world out here is full of adventures.

#circe #madeline miller #greek mythology #good reads #classics #modern audience #odysseus #telemachus #penelope #circe herself

12 notes · View notes

kyndaris · 3 years

Text

A Vikingr Saga for the Ages

Ever since the first game in the franchise, I was enraptured by the idea of stalking my prey on the rooftops of Renaissance Italy and then leaping down - slaying them with a flourish. I didn’t know it yet but the marriage between history and stealthy parkour had me hooked from the very first trailer for Assassin’s Creed. When the series pivoted towards mythology and set further in history than ever before, I eagerly followed. From Ptolemaic Egypt to Ancient Greece. It should come as no surprise that I devoured, then, that I devoured as much of the world that I could in the latest entry: Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla. And after clocking in just under 150 hours, there is much for me to unpack in Ubisoft’s latest entry into the Assassin’s Creed franchise. That, and a fierce desire to finally start watching Vikings.

When I initially booted up Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla (AC:V), I will admit that I was a little disappointed with the control scheme. Once again, Ubisoft had made it a confusing mess with trigger buttons instead of face buttons used to attack. Since I had just come from Spider-Man: Miles Morales, it took a good long while for me to adjust. Several hours later, after fumbling through my first battle with a lost drengr (I actually dumbed down the difficulty a litte), I finally managed to find my footing and was on my way to England to scrape out a place for the Raven Clan.

As for stealth...well, the less said about it the better. I never found it effective. It was much easier to smash my way through, axe in hand (or greatsword) and lay waste to their paltry resistance with a mixture of heavy attacks and parrying. I also, hardly used the bow (one of my favourite weapons to being stealthy in Origins and Odyssey).

The story in AC: V is a little messy. Most of it is done through a separate arcs for each territory Eivor ventures through: from East Anglia to Snotinghamscire, with little to link it all together except the main character. Were it not for the very loose story threat surrounding Sigurd and the conquering of Mercia to establish a firm foothold in this new land of England, many of the storylines could be regarded as standalone adventures in Eivor’s epic saga of conquest.

That doesn’t, of course, mean it’s bad. Merely disjointed. Particularly when I went from Jorvik and its Yule Tide celebrations to Glowecestrescire that was right in the midst of Samhain right after each other. Did I go back in time? Or did almost an entire year fly past Eivor with none the wiser?

Still, even though they were mostly standalone storylines, I still very much liked all the characters I met along the way. My favourites were the earnest Hunwald, noble Ceolbert (his death was almost as bad as all the horse deaths I’ve encountered in video games) and fun-loving Twydwr (particularly when he and Eivor were drunk, and messing with the local chickens) On the Norse side, I very much enjoyed the banter between Eivor and her childhood friend Vili. But the one that I admisted most was Soma. She was the jarlskona of Grantebridgescire - the first place I explored after landing in England. And one, I hoped I could romance to some degree. Alas, my hopes were dashed on that end.

What I did find a little intriguing were how Sigurd and Eivor were sages for the Isus: Odin and Tyr. And in their little Raven Clan, revealed much later, was also Freyr. It seemed strange that so many of the reincarnated Isu were all incredibly close at hand.

In this title, Ubisoft was able to focus again a little more on their complex lore that was seeded throughout the first few games. And while some questions were answered, it still left plenty of mysteries of where the games go from here - particularly from a modern-day standpoint. Though I am reluctant to see the franchise go, it does feel like Ubisoft is finally coming to a close on the grand story that they are trying to tell. What the end result turns out to be is still to be determined, but more emphasis needs to be focused on the central conflict.

For a game that still has Assassin’s Creed in the title, Eivor’s connection with the order and their enemies seemed very tangential. While I killed many Order of the Ancient members, there was no sense of personal investiture, like, say with Ezio’s quest. The only ones that I felt motivated to put an end to were Fulke and Kjotve the Cruel. Unfortunately, all the build-up in the first scenes with Eivor were quickly resolves within the first two to three hours of the game, and Fulke’s arc was all but over in the half-way point.

I suppose the main reason for my discontent with the narrative of AC: V is the fact that there is no Big Bad for Eivor and her Raven Clan. Yes, Aelfred of Wessex is a ‘villain’ that hinders our protagonist, but he never felt like an oppressive threat.

Basim’s reveal, somewhat late in the game, was also a little underwhelming. Yes, he did look an awful lot like Loki, but how did he manage to get to Norway? He hadn’t accompanied Sigurd and Eivor. Did he travel with a third party? How did he know that Sigurd and Eivor would be in the ruins of an Isu temple? So many questions, so little time.

Then there was the whole ‘Heir of Memories’ and the fact that Layla seemed so worn. After finishing Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey, my last impression of her was receiving the Staff of Hermes Trismegistus from Kassandra and being hopeful for the future. Fast forward to AC: V and Layla is tired. The world is on the edge of destruction once again and she’s now paired up with married couple: Rebecca Crane and Shaun Hastings (the two last appearing undercover in Assassin’s Creed IV: Black Flag).

On a side note, why are their adventures all done in the comics or some other media? AND WHY DO I NOT HAVE ACCESS TO ANY OF THIS?

And because I didn’t play the expansions for Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey, I knew too little regarding the modern-day struggles with Layla. In fact, I basically resorted to the Assassin’s Creed wiki to bring me up to date. Honestly, DLC should never be story-related. Or, if it is, should be more tangential rather than major. It’s a terrible practice that quite a few publishers do, and which leaves players such as myself playing catch-up.

The only one that landed with any oomph (at least for me) were the Asgard and Jotunheim arcs. These were connected and told the story of Havi as he struggled to find a way to avert his fate. The final battle also proved challenging and climactic. A far cry from the ‘endings’ that the main story provided. In all honesty, I probably should have left that to last while completing everything else first. But the temptation was too great and I was vastly overlevelled.

I also enjoyed the play on the Norse myths. The only downside with the Builder was that there was no horse to help him. And so, there was no sexy mare Loki to tempt away the Builder’s horse - giving birth to Sleipnir. The other stuff, though, was clever. And I liked the references made to other myths, such as fighting against ‘old age’ and Thrym’s disastrous marriage to ‘Thor dressed as Freyr.’

What was also a little odd, at least for me, was that there was no definitive part where the credits rolled. Much like in Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey and Assassin’s Creedy: Origins. Personally, I hate it. Credits give closure and tell gamers that the narrative that they were pursuing has come to an end. It lets me reflect on everything that I experienced and is an indication that I can finally set the controller down.

Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla also came with its fair share of bugs and glitches. Many, after reading up on them, made me frightened to continue. One, in particular, took me a while to figure out an alternative to: entering Lunden. I didn’t help that the more I read, the more I worried about encountering a game-breaking bug. Thankfully, most were simply treasure hoards not loading, late texture pop-ins that were a little frightening, and the drunk Eivor every time I loaded up the game.

Despite its many faults, I still very much enjoyed my time roaming around England, Vinland and Norway as I worked to build up Eivor’s reputation and to ensure her name would be sung for ages to come. Like a true Vikingr, I played copious amounts of orlog, drank mead and tore up the battlefield to create a home for my people.

Even better, at Gunnar’s wedding, I managed to finally woo Randvi (who I abstained from bedding down with earlier on in the game)! That, perhaps, elevated the game for me and I can be happy knowing that all my hard work paid off.

(As an additional aside, I also love how many of the side quests or ‘mysteries’ in AC: Valhalla made references to popular culture. From Winnie the Pooh to Alice in Wonderland. AND ROBIN HOOD! THE NPC CALLED LITTLE JOHN HAD ME GUFFAWING!)

#Assassin's Creed: Valhalla #AC:V #Assassin's Creed #video games #Eivor x Randvi

12 notes · View notes

rawrroarart · 4 years

Text

Diakko!Odyssey AU

Most recent update: 8/28/2020 I added the comic of them meeting and also wrote a little snippet under the Diakko section

Welcome all. This post will officially be my master post of the Odyssey AU which will be updated as time moves forward so that I can link all of my related art to it. Yes I will not be posting multiple separate Updates in text posts how it’s traditionally done, but instead there will be information with each art and then a link back to this post. This is to avoid clutter since I hardly post on this blog anyway so it wouldn’t be fun having to scroll through all of my “OH ALSO THIS HAPPENS!” to get to art. Also I keep changing my mind on a lot of things in the AU so disregard information under the arts anyway as I will be posting here what is actually relevant.

Another key thing: I will be avoiding spoilers as much as possible until they are either shown in art or stated explicitly like I do in posts because I am the absolute worst at surprises. But anyway fear not for spoilers. Things said here are things that should be hinted at/known already. (and also I hardly know anything but maybe I will in due time)

Without further ado..

Introduction

What is the Odyssey AU?

The odyssey au is an alternative universe combining both Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey and Little Witch Academia into this (very random) adventuring story that takes place in ancient Greece. I guess I can’t say that it’s random since one of my favorite things about both ACO and LWA is the ties/references to mythology with the former obviously more rooted in the mythology and the latter just fun easter egg references.

The general premise is that Diana is a misthios(mercenary) who travels with Akko, a shapeshifter, across Greece to find the answers pertaining to her origin.

The first art post: Diana and Akkoros

While living her life as a misthios, Diana searches for the answers pertaining to her origin and superhuman (described as “magical”) abilities along with Shapeshifter Atsuko, who commonly uses her powers for flight, but is not shy to switch to animals more suited for combat.

But I don’t know what Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey is?

That’s fair and understandable. Honestly my AU diverges a lot from the game so I don’t think knowledge of ACO is exactly necessary it’s just fun to understand the connections if you know them. Basically the key things you need to know from ACO as of now is:

Kassandra (the protag) is known as the Eagle Bearer because she has an eagle that is known as the “eagle of Zeus” throughout the game. And they adventure together and Ikaros (the eagle) can hunt n kill things and See things and tbh he’s rly just a cool eagle but not a shapeshifter or anything lol

Kassandra is a Mercenary (misthios) which is basically a for Hire fighter/person who will p much do anything for money (if they want to do it)

Kassandra is usually referred to a demi-god because of her powerful fighting abilities in which I mean yea she literally has powers and can blast people like a billion miles away (im jk but-)

Kassandra can tame animals (which ones depending on your skill level). You can tame uhh wolves, lynx, leopards, lions, bears. This is where my ‘shapeshifter’ idea began and it pretty much fit perfectly since Akko’s favorite spell is the shapeshifting one.

Other than this, the most important things to know for this AU is just,, general mythology,, I guess? Or history? General history of mythology and how people worshipped/acted in accordance to the gods. And I’m not saying im going to be historically accurate obviously, nor even mythologically accurate (if that’s even a thing lol), I’m just here to have a good time and enjoy my gay mercenaries while talking about gods/goddesses as if I even know (thankfully I have my gf who is way more interested in mythology than me to help me)

I’ve only played like half of the Atlantis DLC after beating the game so whoopsie. I honestly really wanna replay everything now that I have this AU just so I can focus more on details and what I can yoink.

Characters

Diana

Art:

Diana’s sketch-dump though she really needs a new one.

Diana in wheat field

Diana is the main protagonist of the story, but they pretty much both share the spotlight anyway. Her goal is to find out why she has certain powers (which I have officially decided, finally...) that aren’t exactly human. Since being a misthios was an easy way for her to travel and make drachmae, she chooses to do it while on their journey. Dammit I came up with her lore but as per the rules of this masterpost I can’t write about it until it’s out smh.. Ah I forgot that I already spilled that she is a goddess/demi-goddess (haven’t decided which yet) so yea that’s the Tea.

Described as very beautiful, there are rumors of her that state she is a pathway to Elysium (despite many people not deserving to go to Elysium). She is also known for her stoic face and a red bird that follows her around.

Diana is only found smiling with Akko and keeps buying Akko clothes despite her outer grievances each time Akko destroys something.

Diana was there with her mother at Chariot’s speech/performance.

Diana is skilled with any weapon.

Akko

Art:

Akko sketch-dump

Akko is a shapeshifter who travels with Diana across Greece in search for her idolized Chariot. Trusting both Diana’s skills and powers, Akko decides that Diana is the best choice to help achieve her goal as they adventure together.

Orphaned at a young age, Akko is, at first, very unfamiliar with how exactly to use her powers because there was no one around to teach her. She uses a bird most often because it is her first and most skilled transformation, but eventually learns to use stronger animals over time. Also eagle-vision is much more useful to Diana when they’re scoping the grounds anyway.

Like all shapeshifters, Akko has a symbol on her neck that signifies what she is. Due to the high prejudice against shapeshifters, Akko stays an animal to avoid being known, and also does not transform in front of others unless to kill them. If she has to be a human, Akko commonly wears a hood to hide her neck.

Akko is one of the last shapeshifters to exist, and, despite Chariot being rumored to have finally been murdered, she still believes Chariot is alive.

Akko was with her parents when they all attended Chariot’s final speech/show and here began her dream.

Akko can use a dagger if she needs to.

Side-characters

Akko’s Parents: Shapeshifters who were murdered when Akko was a young age.

Chariot: A shapeshifter who somehow had a voice and power that even normal people listened to. Akko idolizes Chariot because, despite the hate against shapeshifters, Chariot was well known and was an activist for shapeshifters despite the danger upon her head. Chariot mysteriously disappears one day for reasons unknown, and everyone but Akko assumes she was finally murdered.

Shapeshifters

Shapeshifters are defined as humans who possess the ability to transform to any animal at will. Unfortunately, because animals were seen as less than human, shapeshifters were defined as “punished by the gods” and so many decided shapeshifters needed to be removed from the world for sin. This causes a massacre of shapeshifters to the point that they are instead a rarity.

Shapeshifters do not transform with their clothes, and so either destroy them or lose them depending on their transformation.

All shapeshifters have a symbol on their neck which is what is used to find them. They can also be found by their human personalities/characteristics when they are an animal.

If weakened, shapeshifters return to their human form and cannot transform until they are stronger.

Diakko

Art:

Meeting (Comes with a 500 word story!)

Misthios!Diana and Shapeshifter!Akko Sketch-dump

Diana and Bear!Akko

Fancy Diakko (the first continuity error lol)

Diana and Akko adventure together and do all of their quests together as a rag-tag chaotic duo. God I’m so excited for this section I wish I could make art FASTER but anyway:

They meet at about 17 years old but the main story takes place when they are 18+

The two get off to a wrong start when Diana saves Akko’s life. Because Akko is a shapeshifter, she’s high in value to kill probably by some cult idk but there is always a bounty on her head. When Diana saves her, Akko assumes Diana only did so to steal the drachmae from the original perpetrators, but Diana really just leaves her alone afterwards. Confused, Akko legit just starts tagging along LMAO she finds Diana interesting and so follows her and Diana’s just like what the fuck but eventually she gets over it. They become powerful assets to each other as Diana can now scope the skies with Akko and Akko is pretty much protected under Diana. Then when Akko gets much stronger Diana gets extra manpower and protection too.

Akko enjoys staying in her human form to spend time with Diana.

Diana keeps buying Akko clothes just because it makes Akko happy (and also, despite Akko uncaring because her transformations are so frequent anyway, Diana doesn’t want her to be naked??)

Diana is easily persuaded by Akko and puts Akko’s interests first (feeds her first, considers what Akko would want, etc.)

#lwa #lwa au #odyssey au #odyssey masterpost #my writing #odyssey!diakko

101 notes · View notes

therealvagabird · 4 years

Text

Sapphire Trio

Three OCs inspired by my time playing Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey. I don’t really have plans for this trio, but I wanted to get them down in writing. While not fanfic OCs, I imagine they inhabit a pseudo-romanticized version of Ancient Greece as depicted in that game.

They are all of them fans of murder and pretty ladies, and you can read about them under the cut.

Phoebe the Owl

Appearance: Tall and powerful woman with tanned olive skin and rich brown hair. Her features are very beautiful and refined, though her physique is that of an Olympic champion. Despite her intensive agility training, Phoebe has a broad figure and a natural disposition to putting on bulk, making her size an intimidating diversion to her actual speed and stealthiness.

Phoebe wears arm and leg-guards of dark patinated bronze, an off-white chiton, a dark brown embroidered chlamys with hood, and several sashes of deep blue fabric for fasteners. She also has many tool-pouches about her harness and carries with her two daggers and a xiphos. For supplemental weapons she has a sheaf of throwing knifes, as well as more exotic items like her rare custom poisons.

Bio: Phoebe was born at sea, near to the island of Ithaka, to a pair of traders. She spent her earliest years on the water or in port, leading a tough but adventurous life, and enjoying much affection from her parents. However around the age of ten tragedy struck when the ship her family was on wrecked on the north coast of the Gulf of Corinth. Phoebe was taken in by a passing patrol of soldiers returning to Attika and placed in the care of an adoptive family in Athens.

From then on Phoebe grew up within a simple military family in the city of Athens, receiving a basic girl’s education and being raised to be a good public servant – as her new parents determined early on she would not be a good candidate for an arranged marriage. However, through the processing of her trauma and remaining adventurous spirit, Phoebe began taking to the streets as an urchin. Her hobbies included eavesdropping, petty theft, and other pastimes of the city’s vagrant youth. She became quite adept, learning many skills through practice or second-hand observation, but she grew stifled by the inequalities and rigor of lawful Athenian life. Taking her leave from the city, Phoebe once again boarded a passing ship, and embraced the life of an itinerant mercenary.

Now, as an adult, she has continued along that path. Her travels about the Mediterranean have made her many friends and enemies, and she has become renowned as the Owl for her perceived wisdom, guile, and proficiency as an assassin. Despite her bulky figure and brusque attitude, Phoebe possesses a sharp tongue and deceptive sneakiness – though even with her bloody line of work, she’s known to be a compassionate soul. Phoebe despises inequality and injustice, and many times has taken contracts out of personal conviction besides simple pay. She met her longtime traveling companions, Eva and Laodice, aboard a pirate ship under the legendary captain Sofia the Gorgon, who acted as a notable mentor to the trio early in their careers.

Evaechme / Eva the She-Wolf

Appearance: Eva is a slender woman with a figure that evokes Artemis herself. Her skin is a rich tan from her long treks beneath the open sky, and her hair is a sun-bleached platinum, long and tied back in many braids in a style favored by huntresses and sailors. She has a missing left eye, and one eye of a blue-green hue like that of the sea, completing her naturalistic appearance.

Preferring light garments of hide, Eva’s outfit is a layered collection of soft leathers, totemic charms, and pelts taken from her many hunts. She prefers comfortable attire that provides protection from the elements but maximum flexibility for climbing, running, and stalking. Her weaponry includes a sabre, a javelin she may also use as a walking stick, and a large bow of olive wood and antler.

Bio: Born on the island of Mykonos to simple farmers, Evaechme always longed for something more in life. Though she did not hate her family, she despised being trapped in her place of birth, and stowed away on a ship to nearby Delos in search of adventure. She found it when, after being arrested by the Delian port authority, she was taken in by a priestess of Artemis. The priestess was sympathetic of Eva’s plight, and offered her a position as one of the Huntresses – military servants to the Cult of Artemis. Eva accepted and was sent on another ship with her new sisters to Brauron in Attika to train. Evaechme swore a vow of celibacy and was inducted into the ways of hunting, survival, and the mysteries of Artemis. However this too in time became dull to her, and to the anger of many of her sisters Eva left on a pirate ship bound for Lesbos some years later and started a new life as a mercenary.

Evaechme is defined by her utter inability to ever be satisfied, and the fact that she is a culmination of all her life experiences. She offers many insights and derives much comfort from various rituals and hobbies she picked up as a peasant, as a Huntress, and as a pirate, but she holds no strong conviction to any one cause. Though a very spiritual and superstitious soul, she never neglects to pursue what she wants, or break from social norms. She is also prone to biting off more than she can chew in search of a challenge, and her initial compulsion to team up with Phoebe and Laodice came from her realizing the value of having trusted allies.

Eva is quite fond of animals and has at various points in her life had pet cats, dogs, raptors and other birds, wolves, and wildcats.

Laodice the Aetos / the Bronze Eagle

Appearance: Laodice is a large and fearsome woman whose figure speaks to the very lineage of Herakles. Her features are strong and androgynous in their hard angles, and her scarred skin is a rich olive, though not so dark as her companions’. Black hair is kept in a somewhat military hairstyle, with the front and top cropped into short curls, while the excess on the sides and back is braided into a “circlet and tail” design.

Referred to on occasion as the Colossus of Amazonia, Loadice’s pride is a set of armor made of modified pieces looted from many opponents, rivaling the ancient skill of Mycenae in its design. The armor, of polished bronze, features a cuirass and armored tassets, along with shin-guards and vambraces. Providing additional armor are two light but solid bronze slab-pauldrons reinforced with leather, bronze torcs acting as rerebraces, and a Corinthian helmet featuring a slight pointed bronze crest and two wing-like plume crests. Beneath, she wears simple garments of thick cloth and leather to provide padding and comfort. Her main weapon is a large maul with a flanged bronze head – the ridges allowing oil-soaked linens or rope to be affixed around the mace and ignited for intimidating and deadly effect.

Bio: Born in Macedon to unknown parentage, Laodice was raised as a mercenary from a very young age by a rough band of travelling warriors. Laodice’s pseudo-father was a northerner who nonetheless claimed to be descended from all manner of mythical heroes and was as quick to violence as he was to laughter. Though far from an ideal childhood, it nonetheless served to mold Laodice into an Amazonian terror to rival any man. She became renowned for her great strength, being called Man-Maiden and The Aetos – the Bronze Eagle of Zeus. Laodice’s life was typical for that of a mercenary from then on, and though far from a pinnacle of refinement, Laodice enjoyed defying other’s expectations of her, going out of her way to try and train her mind to be as notable as her physique. As with those men she was raised under, Laodice’s main hobbies include fighting and drinking, and she is a staunch believer in the power of the gods, holding particular reverence for Athena and Persephone.

Laodice’s major break came during her service under Sofia the Gorgon, where she managed to accrue a wealth of experience, notoriety, and gold. Towards the end of this phase in her life was when she obtained her Colossus Panoply and Hammer of Storms – her impressive armor and bludgeon which she intends to turn into items of legend through her use of them alone. Loadice is the anvil which any enemies struggle to break, leaving themselves tired and distracted for the three-way assault of the Owl, the Wolf, and the Eagle.

#ancient greece #classical greece #OC #my OC #sapphic

23 notes · View notes

a-decent-steve-coogan-blog · 4 years

Photo

Steve Coogan Reaches the End of ‘The Trip’

New York Times 20.05.2020.

He plays a version of himself in the movie series, which is ending with “The Trip to Greece.” In reality “I’m not quite as precious as I come across. But there’s certainly a lot of truth in it.”

As fans of “The Trip” movies know well by now, Steve Coogan has a shelf full of Baftas, the British equivalent of the Oscars. It’s a feat turned running gag throughout the films as he flaunts it at virtually every opportunity.

So when Rob Brydon, his traveling companion and comic foil, asks Coogan what he’s proudest of in “The Trip to Greece,” the answer is perhaps not surprising.

“My seven Baftas,” Coogan says.

“For me, it would be my children,” Brydon says.

“Well, because you haven’t got any Baftas,” Coogan replies.

“You have got children,” Brydon retorts.

In “The Trip to Greece,” opening Friday on video on demand and some theaters, the preening Coogan and laissez-faire Brydon, playing slightly exaggerated versions of themselves, come to the end of their decade-long series of gastronomic excursions. The structure is familiar: They drive through breathtaking scenery on their way to multi-star restaurants and hotels, peppering their conversations with bon mots, celebrity impersonations and insults.

Only this time, the director Michael Winterbottom has given the men six days to retrace Odysseus’ 10-year journey from Troy to Ithaca, while finding their own ways back home.

In a Zoom session from his house in Sussex, England, a mustachioed Coogan, 54 — who in real-life received two Oscar nominations for “Philomena” (2013) along with those seven Baftas — spoke about staying relevant in middle age, imagining where his character winds up, and quarantining with his 23-year-old daughter, Clare, and her boyfriend.

“I’m just this kind of slightly annoying dad that comes in and goes, ‘What are you guys doing?’” he said, with a flash of goofy laughter. There wasn’t a Bafta in sight.

These are edited excerpts from our conversation.

How have you been coping during quarantine?

I’m lucky that I’m in lockdown with my daughter, who’s just a fantastic cook. Each night I go, “Oh my God, this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life.” And I’ve been writing a lot, because that’s one thing that we are still able to do. We already isolated ourselves.

What have you been churning out?

I’m a bigamist writer; I’ve got various partners. I’m writing a post-woke comedy-drama — a sort of romance, really — with a female writer in L.A. We’re navigating the rocks of the new sexual political landscape, shall we say. I’ve also written a drama about a hippie commune in Wales in 1969. And Jeff Pope and I wrote about the woman who found the body of Richard III in a car park. This is the third screenplay we’ve written since “Philomena,” and it’s quite odd that two middle-age men write stories about female empowerment. [Laughs] We’re desperately trying to hang on by writing things that are proper, modern.

I’ll write another Alan Partridge, too [a reference to his vain talk-show host character]. It’s nice to do stuff that’s pure comedy because then when you write it, you laugh a lot. And when you laugh, it releases endorphins — or is it serotonin? Pleasure chemicals, I get them confused. [It’s endorphins.] But anyway, it makes you feel good.

With “The Trip” movies, you’ve eaten and written your way through northern England, Italy and Spain. How did you, Rob and Michael decide that Greece would be your last adventure?

Four felt right. And Greece, it was a classic. The Greek philosophy and mythology lent themselves to this huge, contemplative quality, and having me returning home and mimicking Homer’s “Odyssey” to this sort of conclusiveness. We also felt on a level, “Let’s quit while they’re still good.” That’s not saying we’d never do another one, but it feels like we should wait. Right now our thing is middle-age angst, but pretty soon it will just be old-man angst.

These movies are a showcase for Steve’s attempts at erudition. Do you actually have all that knowledge rattling around in your head?

I do prep work, but I’m naturally curious. I had a quite good education, I would say. I went to a Catholic school, which in this country was a bit like a free private education. The curse is, if you’re from very humble origins and you haven’t had a good education, you don’t know what you don’t know. Then if you’re half well-educated, the curse is that you’re aware of the knowledge you don’t have. That’s what I felt I was. In answer to that, I love to learn.

So yes, I do my homework. Rob doesn’t do his homework, but that’s almost deliberate, because he can trivialize my quest for the truth, as it were.

This time around, Steve’s father is seriously ill. You lost your own father two years ago. What was it like tapping into such personal memories?

Funnily enough, I did a version where I was very emotional. I wept as I would when I re-emulated some of those scenes. Then Michael wanted me to do it again and just hold it all back. I think it’s probably better for that, because audiences don’t like completely candid displays of emotion, whether happiness or sadness. Audiences like to look for stuff. And painful stuff is where you find good art, I suppose. Otherwise you end up with some vanilla-flavored mediocrity.

What misconception might viewers of “The Trip” have about you?

I’m not quite as precious as I come across. But there’s certainly a lot of truth in it as well.

Onscreen, Steve grapples with relevancy in middle age. And offscreen?

Right now I’m probably the happiest I’ve been — with the proviso that there’s no such thing as a state of big happiness. I’d like to work a bit less, to be honest. But I’m grateful that I’m able to make creative choices based purely on whether I believe in the thing I’m doing. Also, weirdly, this lockdown meant that I discovered a parallel universe in my daughter that I hadn’t really been aware of before, because I’ve not spent this long with her since she was a child. That’s a kind of strange blessing.

What life do you imagine for Steve now that his journey has ended?

When I shot that scene of going home, it felt strangely poignant — almost as if, I said to Rob afterward, I got dementia in my old age, I might imagine that that was my life. It felt real. And in my head I suppose it plays out that he does come home, he does return to the stability of those people that love him. Craving the stability more than the excitement of being rootless, of being nomadic. Yeah, it’s a funny little thing, playing a version of yourself.

#steve coogan #new york times #The trip to Greece #juststeve

7 notes · View notes