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Disney

Weekly Post-Ed #47

by Robert Hyma October 26, 2022

written by Robert Hyma

Down With Paragraphs

It’s good to see you again, it’s been a while, jibber-jabber, jibber-jabber, it’s good to be back, you look great, obviously!

But hey, let’s get to the point:

My new stance on paragraphs: I’ve been painstakingly formatting Weekly Post-Eds with indentations since this website began, but I’m slowly coming to understand this is NOT the preferred formatting on the rest of the internet. And, I already knew that before indenting, but I’m doing away with it for the pain-in-the-ass reason that not all browsers/viewing experiences mesh well with indentations. Sometimes indentations appear correctly, like so:

“Hey, I’m a happy indented line! Don’t I look nice and formatted?”

But other times sentences look like this:

“What the hell happened here, Robert? Why are you starting in the middle of the page? What in the f*** is wrong with—”

You get the point. So, for the next while I’m joining the ranks of the rest of the internet and nixing paragraph indentations. It’s a test run, but I’m assuming it will stick around.

Ironically, in my personal writings, I never indent paragraphs. Funny how I do the opposite when presenting my writing.

Anyway, onto more indentation-less goodies.

***

She-Hulk Thoughts

The latest experiment from the Disney+ Marvel Cinematic Universe was another attempt to improve the streaming service television formula. She-Hulk: Attorney at Law followed the sagas of Moon Knight, Loki, WandaVision, and Hawkeye, as each carved out a niche with their respective heroes and furthered the debate about what works and what does not within the scope of MCU limited series.

She-Hulk: Attorney at Law used a gimmick that no other show could, something that is inspired from the comic books: breaking the fourth wall. Jennifer Walters often speaks directly to us, the audience, about the state of things (the show, characters, lazy storylines, etc). Whereas breaking the fourth wall isn’t a new invention (especially with the recent duo of movies featuring Deadpool that did it so well), I couldn’t help but notice something was different about this iteration of the theatrical technique. Breaking the fourth wall wasn’t so much about addressing the audience or being socially aware of tropes within the superhero medium in this show; there was something else going on.

That’s why I waited to write anything about She-Hulk until after the show concluded.

The show featured a refreshingly female take on the world of superheroes and what it means to be marginalized and stereotyped as another “Hulk figure”, something that mirrored the arduous and infinitely frustrating journey of being a woman in modern day America. Jennifer Walters combatted what the world thought of her, warping her own perceptions through a lens of pop-culture, modern gender roles, and exceptionalism (as well as the ugly underbelly of internet message forums that seeks to defame or destroy women entirely).

The series was 9-episodes long, most of which were frustratingly comical or situational. “Where is this going?” I found myself saying to my computer monitor during the credits of each building storyline. There wasn’t a main villain, no obvious thread that connected to the movie universe, nor was there any discernable urgency for Jennifer Walters to overcome some mounting problem. I felt I was watching “a day in the life” of the protagonist as she assailed issues from all sides of the feminine spectrum.

I was frustrated, but I would come to understand that the seeming monotony and subtlety of the series was playing into the overall message of the show.

And by the finale, everything would pay off in spades.

The finale of She-Hulk: Attorney at Law is one of the best I’ve ever seen in television. My earlier intuition that fourth wall breaking was leading to something more came true in the most visceral sense. The climax of the finale featured the usual mashup of characters, all combatting one another in a stereotypical and unfulfilling superhero fashion.

Until She-Hulk breaks the fourth wall a final time, literally breaking out of the Disney+ show.

Jennifer Walters was finished with the restraints that every other MCU streaming show has encountered until this point. It was a proverbial rite of passage to break free of formula and superhero tropes. The screen froze, She-Hulk surveyed the Disney+ desktop main menu, and enters another show to demand answers for why her show has been so directionless and kische.

I won’t spoil the rest. It’s a wonderful half-hour of television. Most importantly, I found that the monotony I was experiencing was purposeful, a slow realization that the subtle irritations Jennifer Walters faced on her journey were the public expectations of comic book fans from the internet, and also men with patriarchal views about outdated gender roles, and the total absurdity of finding true belonging in a world that wishes to pull a person a million different directions for the sake of fitting into an outdated and worn paradigm—even the superhero cliché.

Ultimately, the show was asking how anyone (primarily women) can find their place in the world, one that makes sense and is liberating?

It’s a question that women face in nearly every facet of life, something that She-Hulk: Attorney at Law showed a glimpse of through the guise of a superpowered Hulk lady.

This was the best television show yet from Marvel Studios. I enjoyed the risk-taking and breaking of old formulas. It’s an exciting place to find the MCU exploring, and I can’t wait to see what other issues can be worked into the fabric of new characters.

I’ll be rewatching She-Hulk: Attorney at Law. It’s the first time I felt that way about a Marvel Disney+ show thus far. Well done!

***

The Merry Blokes of Merry Wives

“The Merry Wives of Windsor” @ Grand Valley State University

Theater departments are doing the best they can. That’s the first thing to understand when attending student productions at any university. Some are better than others, but I often find that the ones that present student struggles give the most to talk about.

Before it appears that I’m a total duschbag to the handful of Grand Valley State University theater students that are polishing their acting chops on the stage, this is not my intention. I was a horrible actor in college (let’s be honest, things haven’t exactly improved with age in that department) and I understand it takes many at-bats to figure out what the hell to do with any character. I’m not criticizing the students…

But the Director on the other hand? Oh, let’s talk about those creative choices.

The play I saw last weekend was “The Merry Wives of Windsor”, a Shakespearean comedy about the sneaky exploits of the wives of the male protagonists too enmeshed in their own egos to see they are being easily manipulated. It’s a wonderful play and I enjoyed this viewing thoroughly enough.

Except for two ~~reasons~~ characters.

Shallow (a character given the modern makeover as leather-jacketed preacher) carries an entirely INCOMPREHENSIBLE Scottish accent. My date and I ratioed that we understood 1 in 5 words. Secondly, Doctor Caius is often portrayed as a bumbling Frenchman. This rendition, however, featured a French accent that often slipped into German pronunciations, then trailing into potentially Swedish accents. Needless to say, Doctor Caius had just as poor delivery as Shallow.

When the inevitable occurred and the two characters vomited lines of Shakespearean dialogue at one another in a scene featuring only those two cantankerous actors, it was pure drivel.

I don’t blame the students donning their roles. I blame the decision to give these actors the direction of being incomprehensible in a play by William Shakespeare, perhaps the greatest wordsmith in the English language! It was like the Louvre opting to paint lines over the Mona Lisa, or playing a laugh track over Beethoven’s “9^thSymphony”.

Just…why?

After a few days of pondering, I think I know why these incomprehensible characters were allowed to gallivant the stage in this fashion.

And I think it gives a modern lesson: sometimes a car wreck is the most effective entertainment.

It was certainly that on a cold fall evening on GVSU’s Allendale campus.

As Shakespeare once commented on his own works: “Suck on that, Bard. I’ll say it how I want.”

(No, he did not say this.)

***

I’ve been listening to an entire album by Sure Sure called the “Lonely One” EP. It’s another solid release by a band that generates danceable hits and deep digs and themes with their music. Below is the track listing. Be sure to check out “Facc” “This Time” and “Funky Galileo”, some new favorites of mine.

“Lonely One”
“123”
“Facc”
“This Time”
“Peaceful In My Mind”
“Funky Galileo”
“Receive”

***

Wishing everyone as well as you can be. You’re not alone out there,

October 26, 2022 0 comments

| Weekly Post-Eds |

Weekly Post-Ed #38

by Robert Hyma July 27, 2022

written by Robert Hyma

A MARVELOUS CULTURAL DISPLAY

After contemplating why I write semi/sort-of reviews of Marvel properties, I have to ask aloud: is it because I spent five hours making this week’s Weekly Post-Ed graphic in the style of the Disney+ show Ms. Marvel (you read that correctly, FIVE HOURS), does that mean I must write something even if I don’t have anything unique to say about the television series?

I think the answer is yes; I really enjoyed making the logo. Go ahead, scroll up and take another look, just for me. Yup, that’s five hours well spent, I’d say!

My new favorite attraction to every Disney+ Marvel show is being taken on a personal tour of a given culture or people or idea. In Moon Knight, we were given a tour of Egyptian culture and gods, culminating in a final adventure that spanned across the sands of Egypt. In WandaVision, the grieving process was studied through a powerful witch who manipulated a small town into becoming different eras of television symbolizing the Five Stages of Grief.

And now, we have the MCU’s latest show, Ms. Marvel, which draws heavily from Muslim culture in America and what it means to retain heritage while forging one’s own identity in a new place. The show followed a similar structure as Moon Knight as we eventually traveled with Kamala to her grandmother’s home in Pakistan where she solved a family mystery as well as why her powers stem from the ancient bangle that acts as catalyst for her marvelous superpowers.

Ms. Marvel is dense with Muslim culture, ranging from the graffiti art opening credits that also pay homage to the original comic illustrations, to the music that not only sets a tone for modern Muslim influences for the show but also ties into the theming of each episode. So much of the series took place in a modern Muslim household, not only acting as a window to a world that many of us have never considered, but showed, like any culture, how loving and connected family is to our own sense of identity, even while forging it in our tumultuous teenage years.

Criticism of story and plot aside, I enjoyed each episode and gained a greater appreciation for the world that Kamala (Ms. Marvel) comes from.

Ok, now for some criticism.

Can we please stop making police and/or government officials idiots in television shows? Granted, it can be argued that real world government agents act no differently, but I like a formidable foe in my fiction. Since a government agency is the villain in this show (really, it is), they need to be better at being competent. Highlights of inept police work include:

A car pulls up and helps the hero escape, driving off with squealing tires down an abandoned road—and no agents seem to notice.
Escaping through a loud, metal door when other characters are in the act of being arrested at gunpoint by the police—and no one notices the door closing with a loud thud as our heroes escape.
Missing every shot fired from advanced weapon systems as our heroes escape unscathed around corners, ducking underneath falling debris.

I understand this is a relatively low stakes show in which teenagers are meant to win against the big/bad governmental agents abusing their power, but there must be a better way of showing this other than having the same police pratfalls as an episode of RENO 911. Not only do I roll my eyes at every stereotype reinforced by snobbish portrayals of governmental authority abusing power, but that the cops are not well-trained at catching the Scooby-Doo equivalent of “Those meddling kids!”, it only adds to the middle finger thrown to the audience in place of real conflict and tension in the show.

This is where Marvel Studios can do better. I’m still a believer in things taking time to get better (the first season of Parks and Recreation a prime example), and Marvel has yet to master a winning formula for their online shows. And perhaps six episodes just isn’t enough to put into place a structure that makes the audience care about the villains as much as the heroes. It was just revealed at San Diego Comic-Con that a new Daredevil series will be releasing in 2024 and has an 18-episode arc; maybe that’s something to consider in properly delivering a show that is as satisfying as the movies seem to be, budgets notwithstanding.

But I found there’s more reasons to watch Ms. Marvel other than implications for future stories from the MCU. From Kamala’s parents and family to her friends and community, to the locales and music and wardrobe of the show, all of it was fascinating and worth sitting down for six episodes to enjoy something new and yet familiar.

Just like Ms. Marvel herself.

***

THE SHAPE OF AN “L” ON HIS FOREHEAD

Has anyone ever had a dreamcatcher on their wall as a kid, and still had a nightmare, and upon waking up from the nightmare with a cold sweat and a few lingering images from that horrifying experience say aloud,

“Wow, I should have believed harder that my dreamcatcher actually works. If I believe hard enough, I wouldn’t get any nightmares.”

If this kind of idiocy describes you, then let me introduce Clark Kegley, the only YouTube content creator I’ve lost respect for immediately after one video.

If you’ve ever clicked on a Self-Help video on YouTube, you’ve just acquired a sort of algorithm herpes. One click on a self-help guru (even worse on mobile if you linger for too long over a thumbnail and the video auto-plays *cringe*) and you’re bound to get these videos popping up in your feed all the time. I call it a YouTube Outbreak; and the only cure is to ONLY watch things that you want popping up in your feed for a period of months before the outbreak can clear up.

And I liked Clark Kegley. Initially. He seemed like a good dude even if he sported a greasy mustache, slicked hair combo…but I suppose he’s emphasizing that masculine look that many men look for in their “worldly” self-help gurus, so more power to him.

The video I first saw of Kegley was about his quest to divulge the top three lessons he gleaned from reading over 300 self-help books. Sadly, the top advice was not, “Stop reading self-help books,” which, in my experience, would have been the most useful. Instead, Kegley spoke about waiting for permission and how we often seek exoneration (from work, from a needy spouse/family, time constraints and other responsibilities) before starting something, how we remain sentimental to the idea of change (understand it without true action—which requires sacrifice, something most of us are not willing to give), and forgiveness in terms of others and ourselves so that we can move on.

It wasn’t groundbreaking (self-help videos never are) but I thought Kegley had some interesting ideas to share.

Then, the algorithm herpes of Kegley videos and others like his kept surfacing.

Soon, I was scrolling past swaths of celebrity commencement speeches, the everlasting advice of Steve Jobs, what Elon Musk’s diet was as a child that led to his founding SpaceX…just a constant stream of “I’ll help you improve your life if only you subscribe to my channel,” nonsense.

Usually, I’m fine ignoring videos (especially the YouTube self-help guru crowd that lives entirely on saturation of their own videos – cranking out as many as possible – and growing their subscriber numbers—which seems counterintuitive; if your videos are helping people, shouldn’t your subscriber numbers decline since they no longer need your services? Just a thought), but eventually one of Kegley’s appeared that raised an eyebrow. It was titled:

How to MANIFEST A Text INSTANTLY from a SPECIFIC Person.

If you’re wondering why I’m not linking the video here, I refuse to give this man extra views after having watched it. If interested (and I know you are, you industrious internet connoisseur), you’ll find it on your own.

Basically, the video says this:

(Paraphrasing): “Here are the three steps to make anyone think of you and message you back. Anyone. No matter what your relationship is with them.

Fill your head with positive thoughts, only good ones.
Write the name of the person you want contacting you with your finger on the glass of your phone. Over and over and over again.
Wait. Within three days, maybe four, you’ll get a message from them.”

Kegley proudly summarizes, “I guarantee that this works, guys!”

First, no it doesn’t. And I know it doesn’t because coincidences do not count as mysticality. There has been literally thousands of years of research and philosophy disseminating similar belief systems. If you’re not hearing back from your father, in Kegley’s case, because he “never” contacts you first and suddenly does…the event was still possible because there was still a basis to get ahold of you even without this so-called “Manifestation”. It may be unlikely that your father does text first, but it isn’t out of the realm of possibility since a.) he is your dad and is, therefore, invested in your existence, and b.) has the means of contacting you in the first place.

If I am secretly in love with Emma Watson, the actress, it doesn’t mean that I can write her name on my phone and expect a text from her at some point in the future. The same goes for Anna Kendrick, Elizabeth Olson, and, to a lesser degree, Pedro Pascal (because let’s face it: he’s a lovely man and bends the curvature of heterosexuality in men if left stranded on a desert island, not ashamed to admit that) and anyone else I’m trying to think of that might have a phone I could develop a psychic connection with.

And while this idea of writing someone’s name on a phone screen is objectively stupid, the part that drove me to write about this guy was the end of the video.

Kegley says, (paraphrasing, because I refuse to rewatch the video to properly quote): “If it doesn’t work after three days, it means you just have to do it over. But guys, I’m telling you if you’re NOT BELIEVING HARD ENOUGH, it won’t work. You have to believe in this, 100%. And if you aren’t believing in this entirely, you won’t get results…”

That’s why this guy deserves a shot taken at his content. It’s the old: “It’s not my fault my made-up thing is the dumbest idea and doesn’t work because I made it up, it’s because you just didn’t try hard enough!”

A KEKW laugh

While it’s an old formula to gaslight a victim that it is their fault for why something isn’t working (I think religions of the world call the same process imbedding guilt, but that’s a different brand altogether), it should evoke a KEKW laugh from everyone who encounters it. Every time.

But after some deliberation about posting this segment (because I don’t like tearing specific people apart on a personal website, not when I can be vague and clever about something and pass it off as fine writing), I have to admit that Kegley’s method of writing on the glass of a phone with a finger does work to some degree. For example, whenever I happen upon another of Kegley’s videos, I write the shape of an “L” on his forehead (yes, from the famous Smashmouth song), and it turns out to be true!

And I can only surmise it’s because I BELIEVE hard enough that it is.

In a way, Kegley’s videos really have helped move my life along. But now that they have, I can unsubscribe.

The YouTube Outbreak is over, I can go back to living my life again.

Speaking of, think Emma Watson will really message me if I keep writing her name with my finger on my phone screen?

I guess there’s only one way to find out…

***

***

Wishing everyone as well as you can be. You’re not alone out there,

July 27, 2022 0 comments

| Short Stories |

Two Exchange Students in a Poor, Provincial Town

by Robert Hyma May 21, 2020

written by Robert Hyma

“He uses antlers in all his decorating?” asked Glen.

“He just sang it in front of everyone,” said Dan.

The two exchange students were sequestered to a pub in a small town in France, and they hardly knew a soul, except for Belle, who was kindest to them. Unfortunately, she disappeared a few days ago, and no one has seen her since. Well, except for her father who recently returned to the town and began raving about a beast keeping her captive in a castle.

“Do you think it’s true?” asked Glen.

“Gaston doesn’t believe it,” said Dan.

“Yeah, but that guy is a dick.”

Dan agreed, which made it so much worse that Belle was missing. But why? He didn’t know her. The entire town seemed to, which was unsettling. Whenever Belle walked down the street or through the market, every single person stopped to watch. To Dan, it was clear why: Belle was a hottie, a doll, a desert gem crammed into the crusty exterior of a poor, provincial town. But this didn’t explain why everyone found her odd, and when asked, no one in town could place their finger on exactly why she was different than the rest of them.

“What do you think?” asked Glen.

“I assume they mean she’s retarded,” said Dan.

Glen nearly choked on his pint, placing it down. The new word was all the rage at university; finally, a cohesive standard by which to label the slow or dimwitted. “I was thinking the same thing but didn’t want to say it,” said Glen. “But she isn’t in an asylum, that must count for something.”

“I thought about that, too,” said Dan. “What if they don’t put her there because she’s too hot?”

“Too hot?”

“Yes, too hot.”

“Do you think there’s such a thing?”

“Most definitely,” said Dan. “Remember when we stopped off near Paris and there was a girl munching on candles in the street?”

“Who can forget that?”

“Exactly. They didn’t lock her up and it’s because she had enormous knockers.”

Glen wasn’t so sure. “Because of the knockers?”

Dan shrugged. “One can only assume.”

They each downed the remaining foam of their pints, smacking the wooden bases on the countertop. The bartender placed two refills nearby.

“Would you ever date a retarded girl?” asked Glen.

Dan spit out some foam, wiping his lip. “Are you serious?”

“I mean, if she were hot enough.”

Dan shook his head. “This conversation is a little tacky, even for 1730.”

“The year of our Lord?”

“That’s the one.”

“But Gaston wants to marry her,” pressed Glen. “Doesn’t he care that she might be retarded?”

“The guy that wants to decorate everything with antlers?” asked Dan. “He might be retarded one.”

“Come to think of it,” said Glen, looking around the bar. “We might be the only normal ones here.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” said Dan. “Everyone is either into Belle or following a cult that Gaston and LeFou are starting. I suppose that’s the curse of being educated.”

“Smarter than the average dimwit,” said Glen, smacking the rim of his pint with Dan’s, drinking deeply.

“Excuse me,” said LeFou, having made his way across the bar. “Would you two be interesting in joining a mob?”

“A mob?” the exchange students asked.

“It’s a volunteer thing,” LeFou explained. “If there’s ever a need to get the town together, find torches and pitchforks and other pointy things, can we count on you two to follow us no matter where we go?”

“Are you serious?” asked Dan. “No matter what the cause, just grab something sharp and follow you around, hooting and hollering?”

“That’s the general idea,” said LeFou.

Glen and Dan laughed, drinking their pints.

“I take that as a no,” said the manliest man around, Gaston.

Glen and Dan stopped drinking.

“They must be outsiders,” confirmed LeFou.

“Exchange students,” mumbled Dan, though hardly audible.

“Clearly,” said Gaston. “Well, their ideas about the world are just as much a danger to our town as crazy old Maurice. Perhaps we should lock them up as well?”

Dan laughed, a forceful one, to distill the tension. “I mean, I’ve never said no to being in a mob. I’ve just never been asked.”

“Me either,” said Glen. “I guess I haven’t thought about it, is all.”

“Good,” said Gaston, “Then, we’ll count on your grabbing something sharp and pointy when the time comes.”

“Uh, one question, Mr. Gaston,” said Dan. “How do you know there will be a need for a mob?”

“A hero never knows when a mob is needed,” said Gaston.

“What about villains?” asked Glen.

“I don’t speak french,” said Gaston. He pointed at Dan and Glen with a rigid finger, which, no one exactly knew the meaning of, but it was intimidating. “What do you think of the antlers? Great decorating, huh?”

“Oh, the best,” Dan lied.

“Goes with everything,” said Glen with a pasted smile.

Gaston joined a central table with LeFou at his side. A basket of raw eggs was placed nearby.

Dan and Glen finished their pints, paid the bartender, and inched along the perimeter of the pub. They exited into the street.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” said Glen.

“Wait,” said Dan. “What about Belle?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I don’t know,” said Dan. “I think she likes me. Maybe we should go rescue her?”

“C’mon Dan,” complained Glen, “let’s not do this again. Another girl, another town. We should just get out while we still can.”

“Let’s go get her,” said Dan. “She’s in the woods somewhere, we’ll be heroes, and we can say we did it for retarded people everywhere. Win-win.”

Glen wasn’t so sure.

“It beats being part of Gaston’s mob. C’mon, what could happen to us? We’re educated!”

Glen went along with Dan through the forest. They didn’t make it far. A pack of wolves found them, ate them alive, and left a bloody trail of innards and organs along the path leading to the Beast’s castle. A few hours later, Gaston and LeFou passed the grisly scene with the mob.

“See, my friend,” said Gaston. “That’s why you join a mob. If not for the pride of the cause, then to scare away packs of wolves.”

“I didn’t think there were packs of wolves in France,” said LeFou.

Gaston shrugged. “Who knows. The sooner I marry Belle, the sooner things get back to normal.”

“I overheard those exchange students say she was retarded. Does that concern you?”

“For heaven’s sake, LeFou, I don’t speak French!”

LeFou rolled his eyes. He hated following Gaston, but it did beat getting eaten by wolves. So, he went along with it anyway, even if Gaston occasionally said retarded things.

May 21, 2020 0 comments