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carolynpetit · 6 years

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Vicarious Visions: Butterfly Soup and My Teenage Heart

Before reading this piece, I encourage you to play the extraordinary visual novel Butterfly Soup, which I discuss in detail below. It’s available here on itch.io for free/pay what you want, takes three or four hours, and is wonderfully sweet, heartwarming, and hilarious.

Sometimes games get caught inside me, entangled so deeply in my own past or present that the only way I can get them out of me is to write about them. Butterfly Soup is that kind of game. What I’m about to write isn’t intellectual or analytical. It’s confessional. It’s the writing I need to do to get this game out of me. To turn my time with it into a kind of prayer.

Today in a piece on Louis CK, Woody Allen, art, creeps, and criticism, New York Times film critic Manohla Dargis wrote, “One fallacy about criticism is that it can be practiced objectively, as if we could see and write about movies from some sort of out-of-body experience. As if it were possible for me to watch a movie in which women are abused for no apparent reason — without even a pretense of narrative rationale — and view this exploitation as simply another formal attribute, like the cinematography, soundtrack or superb camerawork.”

Art cannot be critiqued objectively, and it cannot be experienced objectively. Consciously or not, we bring our life experience to our experience of art. Sometimes, as with me and Butterfly Soup, we bring our lack of experience to our experience of art, too.

I often recall this quote when I consider why films, games, novels and television are so important in my life:

I think that what a person normally goes to the cinema for is time: for time lost or spent or not yet had. He goes there for living experience; for cinema, like no other art, widens, enhances and concentrates a person’s experience—and not only enhances it but makes it longer, significantly longer. – Andrei Tarkovsky

This is one of the big reasons. Time and experience that illuminates and expands my own. Most of all, perhaps, time “not yet had.” Time I’ll never have. Things I’ll never experience for myself. Things I’ve missed out on. Some queer women may play games like Butterfly Soup and be reminded of who they were at that age. For me they are a way of living a life I never got to live, one I’m still hoping to have someday, even now, at 41, because in some ways my yearning, inexperienced heart is still 16, waiting for the teen experiences it never had. Experiences like Butterfly Soup help me speculate about who I might have been if I’d gotten to live the life I yearned for so intensely. And they help me explore who I might be, how I might love, what I might have to give, if I ever do get the chance.

Books and films and games that vicariously give me this aren’t painless. They hit hard. They cut deep. Kafka said that “a book must be the axe for the frozen sea inside us.” That’s what such works are to me, and Butterfly Soup is the latest.

That may make Butterfly Soup sound devastating. It’s not at all. It overflows with warmth. Perhaps it would be more appropriate to say that this game is a flame that melts the frozen sea inside me. It is not painless, but it is good for me. It thaws me out. It reminds me that I am still really alive despite a pronounced lack of life in my life, and that there are things I still yearn for.

Butterfly Soup is accurately billed as “a visual novel about gay asian girls playing baseball and falling in love.” There are four Asian girls prominently featured in the story, and they’re all fantastic. But here, I want to talk about two of them in particular, Diya and Min. I see myself in both of them.

I see myself in Diya’s social anxiety. The way she fears that people laughing are laughing at her. The way she doesn’t understand how people around her just talk to each other in ways that seem so automatic and effortless.

It’s gotten better since I transitioned, but in the midst of my gender dysphoria, when I couldn’t help but dissociate, I couldn’t comprehend how people could just talk about seemingly anything, lawn furniture or whatever. How could people have thoughts and feelings about lawn furniture? Maybe partially by not being in excruciating pain all the time, I guess.

I also see myself in the pain and anger Min experiences at being forced into a role that she knows just doesn’t fit her.

I see myself in her devotion to Diya, and her desire to make Diya happy…

…and in the way she always wants to be closer.

Some people love, or say they love, or pretend to love everyone. Min is not this way, and neither am I. I have a general love for humankind, a hope that we can view each other and treat each other with compassion. I have a desire to see local and global politics shaped by love and not by greed. But the truth is that there are very few people that I love, and so I see myself in the way that Min sets Diya apart. The way Min sees the signs, even if she has to bend over backwards to find them. Even though it takes a mispronunciation of Diya’s name, Min is excited to notice that their names, put together, can make Diya-Min, which isn’t that far off from “diamond,” as in a baseball diamond.

I see the signs too, sometimes. And even though I guess I don’t believe that they’re “real,” they still make me feel something, and I believe that, if we see each other with love, then we can take the stuff of cosmic coincidence and make it real.

I see myself in the way Diya wants to go slow, the way she wants time, the way she wants emotional intimacy, gentleness, cuddling and hand-holding.

I need that, too. The world has taught me to be very guarded. The path to bringing my walls down requires a lot of patience.

I see myself in the way Min keeps the faith, keeping Diya in her heart even while the two of them are separated for years.

Before:

After:

I know I love like this too, or would, if I were ever given the chance.

I see my own heart in the way the connection between Diya and Min has fun and play in it. My teenage heart doesn’t understand a love without these things.

Love has to come out of friendship. It has to involve fun. Interest, stimulation, fascination, admiration, the desire to truly know a person, these are all a kind of fun. If someone is just “fun” in a superficial way, with no depth whatsoever, that won’t work. I need someone I can be 16 with and be 41 with. The sort of person I can be with anywhere–even the lights aisle at Home Depot–and think, there’s nowhere I’d rather be right now.

The awareness that, at my age, I still have so much in common with these teenagers is confusing. On one hand, it makes perfect sense. I’m as inexperienced as they are. I’m still waiting for my first real experience of mutual connection, interest, fun, yearning, love. And I don’t think that still being able to love that way is a bad thing. But on the other hand, I worry sometimes that it’s too late. That if that part of your life hasn’t started by now, then you’ve missed the boat, because nobody knows what to do with someone like you. There’s a message that appears onscreen toward the end of the game. It says “I really miss high school.” Well, I don’t. I didn’t have this in high school. Not really. I’m still waiting for it:

And like I said, that hurts. It always hurts, but games like Butterfly Soup activate the wound a little bit. So, then, if it’s not painless, if it cuts, why do I love it? Because by overflowing with warmth, this game welcomes me into that warmth. It doesn’t exclude me, or say that I don’t deserve these things in my life, too. I can’t connect with a person who isn’t sincere, and Butterfly Soup is one of the most sincere games I’ve ever played. Like a sincere person, this game’s sincerity opened up my heart. It doesn’t care that I’m trans, or that I’m a 16-year-old trapped in a 41-year-old’s body. Its warmth is for me, too. It lets me be Diya and Min and Akarsha and Noelle for a little while. It says you belong here. It says:

And so I do. In a world that hates me, it’s easy to forget that sometimes. It’s good to be reminded, in a bittersweet sort of way.

You know, stories about queer girls so often end in tragedy. Butterfly Soup doesn’t. It’s a game that really, really believes in love. In fact, the way this game ends makes you think that maybe, just maybe, Min was right all those years ago when she said:

There’s gotta be someone somewhere out there for me, right? I won’t give up if you don’t give up.

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mystomachfeelsawful · 6 years

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4:10 PM

I can’t say a lot of things for lots of reasons.

TOP 5 (which I can talk about). In no order.

PLAYS

The Last Wife was my biggest surprise of the year. I went into it thinking I’d hate it, but was charmed by the pace of the script, the quick staging, the ensemble and pretty much everything about it.

Passing Strange made me actually appreciate a musical which I’ve long hated.

Prince Hamlet made me get Hamlet for the first time.

Fish Eyes Trilogy was a masterclass in BAM.

Superior Donuts had one of my favourite fights I’ve ever seen on a Toronto Stage. Corner Gas meets violence. So much heart and an incredible set.

BONUS CREDITS: Delirium, Pearle Harbour’s Chataqua, True North Mixtape, Less, Dolphin,

FILMS

3 Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri - Loved how you cared about every single character.

Lady Bird - Coming of Age done right. So economic aside from a kind of extra ending.

Get Out - I’ve never seen Luke cry in a theatre before or an entire theatre cheer when a hero finally gets his justice. I’ve also never felt as relieved as I did when the ending came. So well thought out.

Baby Driver - Style for dayyys. Jamie Foxx, Eiza Gonzalez and John Hamm kill it.

The Disaster Artist - Made me sniffle a bit I loved how they didn’t go for the cheap laugh in making fun of Tommy Wiseau. You really get that he tried to make this movie in spite of his utter lack of ability.

Bonus Credits: It, The Florida Project, Ingrid Goes West, Coco, Shape of Water, Logan, Wonder Woman, A Silent Voice, Your Name

Games

Dragon Age Inquisition - I sunk 80 hours into this and still haven’t beaten it.My quinari mage will reign someday.

Persona 5(!) - Futaba’s social link is probably my favourite social link in all personas because it deals with anxiety, trauma and agoraphobia in a way that I dunno....just works for me. I also love how you’re actually an underdog in this one. Everyone hates you because you’re a criminal, so the bonds you form are actually REAL. Sure there’s a load of problematic stuff (which is IMO, more a problem with Japanese RPGs as a whole regarding the way they treat women and queer folk), and the villains are saturday morning cartoon characters, and the plot falls apart at the end, but I think the idea of a bunch of losers banding together will ALWAYS appeal to me. It’s the only Persona where i cared about the main story more than the social links. In fact, it’s also the only persona where I didn’t want to romance anyone because they seemed like real, cool, people.

Breath of the Wild (my first Zelda! - If Studio Ghibli and Skyrim had a baby. I loved how the story existed if you sought it out, but wasn’t there if you didn’t make an effort to find it. I loved Zelda’s character development. I loved how much PERSONALITY the world had and how sparse it was. I didn’t like the young female voice acting (why are they speaking in their headvoice). And that SCORE THOUGH. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mETAEJY_rk8

Tales of Berseria - Combat was completely underwhelming and the backtracking sucked, but there was something so endearing about playing as antagonists that I really appreciated. Especially considering how in the first hour you burn half a bishonen’s face off. I also cried like a baby. Next to Abyss, one of the best Tales stories for me. Too bad the combat is broken and the world is boring af. If only they could have the world of Vesperia, the story of Abyss/Vesperia and the combat of Graces (which they almost did, but Velvet breaks the game), then we’d be set. Also, get Go Shiina back. Motoi needs a break.

Doki Doki Literature Club - Um. Yeah. I beat this 12 hours ago and can’t stop thinking about it. 2017′s undertale for me. I loved how not only it bent the game save file, but also fucked with the game files itself. One of the more interesting meta narratives I’ve come across. It also raises (though could be explored deeper) some of the problematic elements of moe visual novels, especially in that Monika seems to be unable to control how much she loves you due to her programming. Monika’s awareness that she’s in a game and her frustration toward her affection toward the player created some neat subtext in terms of female characters’ agency vs how they’re written. Super well thought out.

Experiences

2017 was a year of trust for me. Trusting myself, processes and knowing when to let things be.

Silk Bath - continues to be an unexpected surprise. We nearly sold out our entire NSTF run and have a little residency through tarragon’s workspace program. I also think that we’re finally learning what the heart of the play is about and how to work together as a collective.

Bathtub Girls/Weesageechak/Cahoots - I got my first pro dramaturgy gig this year and finally worked with artists who I’ve never met before. AHHH. Both experiences were illuminating in radically different ways. I think, if anything, working as a dramaturg has given me the ability to trust in other artists more. From the work with the foremen, to being in natural resources and now training as a dramaturg, I’d like to think I’m becoming a better collaborator and facilitator rather than dictator director. Madeleine Says Sorry this summer (an unexpected hit) had a very different directorial process because I feel I trusted the artists more than I usually do. I still have my usual rigor, but sometimes letting things happen and planting seeds is better than bluntly throwing someone down a corridor so to speak.

Knife - continues to be developed at Factory. I’ve never been in development with a script this long, but it’s so informative to be in a process where a company is invested in it’s development first rather than rushing it to the stage. It’s been all sorts of challenging in ways where I feel I’ve almost got it, but then missed, or moments where I think I’ve blown it and it actually works. I think one of my biggest realizations from 2016 was that I can’t rush work out. And with Knife, I’m learning the benefits of taking my time, but also what a longer commitment feels like when the inside (does that sound gross). As it continues to shift and change, I’m excited to see where it goes. It’s good also knowing that someone has your back. I’m going into a workshop in April, but there’s still loads more work to do, which is both daunting and exciting.

I NOW KNOW HOW TO MAKE BEEF STEW WITH TENDER MEAT - So like not really an accomplishment, but fuck it, it’s actually a big one. Beef Stew is my favourite food of maybe all time. More than sushi, more than pasta, more than anything. My family on my mom’s side used to run the only Chinese restaurant in levack. They had to feed miners, so they learned how to make their food. It’s a family recipe that’s not really a secret, but no one knows how to make it as good as my Poi Poi. My version is a little different, but it tastes great! - and this is weird - it makes me feel more a part of my family than anything else.

Knowing when to leave - I left two theatre companies I helped found this year. There are a lot of reasons associated with this (both personal and not so personal), but I think I’m figuring out what I want as an artist and my personal ethos in making work. And there’s some things I’m not willing to compromise.

2017 was a development year, but strangely enough by NOT putting out so much work, I feel even more connected to my community and my peers through my work. I feel like - if just a little - I’m more present in shows and conversations. But most importantly, I think I’m not trying as hard as I used to. I’m trying to let my work speak for itself and live a normal, beef stewy life.

Onwards!

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