Movies – a simple man

Favorite Things: 2025

At year’s end, I like to take a moment and reflect back on my favorite things that I’ve encountered throughout the year. Last year, my wife and I had just moved into our new home, and my favorite thing was all the people who helped us out along the way.

Hemlock Hall

This year, my top favorite thing is our new house. We have been living here almost a year (we moved in after Christmas, but we signed the papers on December 20) and I’ve just now begun to feel like this is where I live, and will live, for a while. I am starting to put down roots, I guess. It is weird to me: a home. Whenever I dream of home, it is always my childhood house from before we left Virginia (when I was sixteen). I’ve been on the move constantly since then, and the longest I lived in any one place was my wife and I’s previous home in Texas, where I lived about five years. But that never felt like a home to me. I tried, but I always felt uncomfortable there. Now, a year into living here, I have started to settle in. I feel comfortable here. At the close of 2025, I’ve been living in Texas over ten years, and while I don’t love this state, it is where I am now, and I’m not going anywhere for a while (I mean, as far as I know).

Middle-Earth

One of the first things that I bought for my new house I bought in 2024. I didn’t know where it would go in the new house, but I wanted it there: a map of Middle-Earth. Actually, I ended up with three maps. I have one of the Lonely Mountain from the Hobbit, one of the Shire from the Lord of the Rings, and one of the whole of Middle-Earth. They aren’t large, but they are prop replicas of maps as seen in the films by Peter Jackson. The map of the Lonely Mountain hangs over the fireplace in the living room, and the other two form a diptych in the craft room. I enjoy them immensely, and given my abiding affection for all things Tolkien, this is no surprise.

I Am Groot

I bought a life-size Baby Groot in 2024 from the second Guardians of the Galaxy film, and it stands about a foot tall. It is a lovely action figure/prop replica, and I have photographed it several times. It perfectly fills the spot in my heart for whimsy and wonder and fun. Groot didn’t make it to my list last year, but I include him this year because he is so cool.

Maker of Things

I follow the footsteps of Adam Savage, maker extraordinaire, and this spot I reserve for tools and tool-related items. I bought two terrific work benches, one for LEGO and one for everything else, and they have been absolutely worth the investment. The primary work bench is on casters, and that has been invaluable for the several times I have rearranged the craft room already. The other is on rubber feet, so it barely moves if bumped against, and this is perfect for my LEGO storage to not get jostled.

On Adam’s recommendation, I purchased two sets of WiHa hex keys, one in metric, the other standard. Both have been fantastic for assembling all the furniture that we have bought for our new house, which mostly always comes flat-packed and in need of assembling. Rather than use the small hex keys that come with the furniture, having a well-crafted and comfortable-to-use key has been great. I also bought, because Adam showcased one, a TOYO Y-350 tool box in red. I lined it with foamcore, and it houses my frequently used tools (such as the hex keys, a hammer, nails, screwdriver, and utility knife). This small tool box has been a life-saver around the house for when I need to get a small job done. I don’t have to pull out my large rolling toolbox from the closet, I only need to grab my small one and go!

Audiophile

My last object is my Apple AirPods Max, which is perhaps the most indulgent purchase I’ve made recently. I love over-the-ear headphones for flying, and for watching movies, and the noise isolation for the first scenario is amazing, and the comfort level for the second scenario is second-to-none. I’ve had other “cans”, and these are by far the most comfortable for long-term wearing. They also have the ability to connect instantly to any Apple device I happen to be using, be it iPhone, iPad, or AppleTV, and that convenience is well appreciated. My only complaint is not having an updated or more affordable option for this style of headphone from Apple since the Max was released.

Family

Wrapping up my favorite things, I end where I began last year, with people, and two groups in particular: my blood and my chosen families. My chosen family are my friends from high school that I have known for over twenty years now, and though we don’t get together often, the love we share is real. Some of us met for our 20th reunion in February in Americus, Georgia, and it was the most meaningful time I have had recently. All we really did is hang out and talk, but it enriched my soul and touched my heart. So many people I have genuine affection for that are scattered around the globe, and to see even some filled me with warmth.

My parents and older brother, my wife, and I flew to Boston this summer. We have been threatening to go for a while, and my Dad has always wanted to visit Boston, and in particular, Fenway Park home of the Red Sox. We were able to see two baseball games there, and visit many other places in Boston during our week there, including my grandfather’s NAVY submarine, the USS Nautilus which is moored not far away in New London, Connecticut. It was such a fun vacation, and relaxing time spent exploring a new location.

Wrap-Up

2025 has been a great year, from many perspectives for me personally, despite world-wide suffering and tragedy and rising fascism in the States. I have been hugely conflicted this year, because of personal highs and shared lows. At times I haven’t known how to feel. Over all, though, I try to remain thankful and put things in perspective, which is what my favorite things is all about. I highlight experiences, objects, and people because all have enriched my life in one way or another, and make life worth living despite the real heartbreak I see all around me. As I tread into 2026, I hope for better at home and abroad, and look forward to what the new year will bring.

Dog Days

Heat. It saps my energy and my will to continue. Yesterday I was out in the heat for a bit and that must have done me in because all I’ve done today is sleep and rest. I am dreading this evening because I need to go back out in the heat and cut grass and weed-eat around my property. Ugh.

In the mean time, I thought this might be a good time to check in with how the summer is going as regards my goals. All-in-all, it is going rather well. I am reading through Shakespeare’s Star Wars by Ian Doescher (while in the bathroom; hey, it’s something) and have completed the Phantom of Menace and The Clone Army Attacketh and am starting The Tragedy of the Sith’s Revenge. To go from almost no books read, to two down and more to go feels like a real accomplishment. I think after Revenge I will take a break from pseudo-Shakespeare and tackle something different altogether.

My doomscrolling has gone way down, though the app limits, which I did implement, started to annoy me. Either it isn’t enough time or it is too easy to circumvent, but either way I’ve turned it back off for now. I tend to have reached a balance with app limits off that keep me from doomscrolling for too long. Maybe I’ve learned a little discipline? Time will tell.

I’ve made huge process, too, on other tasks, primarily on the LEGO sorting. Working through the backlog of LEGO sets I bought primarily for the pieces (and not for display) has taken less time than I feared and I am already formulating plans to build, with eBay having furnished me some baseplates on which to construct. I can’t wait until they arrive so I can actually start. I still need to finish phase one of scanning in photos for my mother, and a few other things I planned to do have gone undone as of yet, but there is time still. My productivity has been up, and that is what I wanted.

Oh! I almost forgot: haiku! I’ve been writing them. I am a member of the social media platform Mastodon, and there is an account I follow that posts haiku prompts each week for each day. In the evening, I have been writing a few haiku just for fun. Maybe someday I will choose the best and refine them for some project, but right now it is about writing and enjoying the form. Here’s one I wrote recently:

After full summers

Winter ballparks lay fallow.

Hush! Legends need rest.

It needs a bit more tweaking, as do most of them, but it’s a start and a fun exercise before sleep.

I’ve even done some movie watching this summer, and in the theater, no less! My parents and I went to see F1 starring Brad Pitt, and just yesterday my sister, her beaux Will, and my parents, and I went to see the newest Superman.

Pitt’s action vehicle F1 was pretty much by-the-numbers about an aging former star returning to a thing to help an up-and-coming phenom, and both learn a grudging respect while winning the day. The cinematography was amazing, and put the viewer in the driver’s seat in a way I haven’t seen since Tom Cruise’s Top Gun: Maverick. I enjoyed the spectacle, and the story made me care about Formula 1 racing in the same way that Legend of Bagger Vance made me care about golf. That is to say, I don’t, but both stories were strong enough to pull me in and feel like I cared about the sport for a few hours.

On the other hand, Superman was a bit of a shouty, if colorful, mess. Eschewing the origin story, for better or for worse, it throws the audience into the story of Clark Kent and runs from there. Nicholas Hoult’s Lex Luthor was over the top, and not in a good way, and everything felt a little hurried. I did absolutely love the scene-stealing Krypto the Super-Dog, and always love Nathan Fillion in a role, especially the douchebag Green Lantern Guy Gardner (who proves that a Green Lantern -can- work on screen!) which truly made me laugh. There were a few, brief, heartfelt moments in the movie, and I did appreciate that the score incorporated John William’s original theme for Superman. But other than that, it didn’t make me want to revisit the movie again, despite being curious what the rest of the Justice League will look like in this new universe that James Gunn, director of Superman and DC’s new direction, is building. I’ll have to wait and watch.

By the way, if you loved F1 and Superman, that is terrific! They weren’t precisely my cup of tea, and that is ok. We all love different things in different ways and for different reasons and that is what makes us colorful, wonderful, humans.

Finally, I knocked a few items off my list by completely re-organizing the kitchen and the laundry room. I did it entirely over one evening, and it felt really good to get done. I basically went through every single cabinet, pulling everything out, and deciding what I needed, what I didn’t, and how to organize most efficiently as I put what I needed back into the cabinets. For the moment they are staying organized and the kitchen remains tidy, and that makes me smile and less stressed every time I go in there. Fantastic win.

And, with me completing a blog post just now, I feel I was able to do -something- ahead of cutting the grass this evening. I know that I will be happy to have the outdoor chore done, I just dread doing it each time I must. I’m not sure why I hate it so. Perhaps it is my reluctance to sweat, and I don’t enjoy mindless exercise, but it needs to be done, and just before sunset is the time to do it, therefore do it I shall and then it will be done (for another week or so).

Yes, the summer is going well, despite the heat and uncomfortable humidity we have had in Texas this summer. Setting goals has been huge for keeping me on track, and writing about my goals to see the progress I’ve made has been good to help me stay positive, especially on days like today when I tend to be down on myself for not doing too much.

Here’s to the rest of the summer and my upcoming vacation to Boston, for which I am starting to get very excited! Just ten more days, and I’ll be flying away to New England. Can’t wait.

Campfire Stories

Spoilers: all Star Wars media (potentially);
Content Warning: brief mentions of SA

Sam Witwer portrays the voice of Darth Maul in many Star Wars media. Witwer learned from George Lucas, creator of Star Wars, and Dave Filoni, the current creative director of Star Wars, about campfire stories within the galaxy far, far away.

George Lucas once addressed the growing inconsistencies within Star Wars to Sam Witwer, as Witwer was portraying Starkiller in the Force Unleashed video games, by imagining that everything in the various films, tv shows, books, comics, and other avenues of storytelling, were all, in a sense, being told around a campfire somewhere in the galaxy. That is perhaps part of why all Star Wars films begin with “a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away” (which itself was referenced in Season 1 of Ahsoka).

In this way, all the details of Star Wars are just salient bits of someone’s tall tale about when Darth Vader used to race pods on Tatooine (Phantom Menace), or that time when little bears beat an entire legion of the Empire’s stormtroopers (Return of the Jedi), or that time when kids accidentally led a group of pirates to their very own treasure planet (Skeleton Crew).

This helps to explain how Han shot first, and then didn’t (A New Hope theatrical release vs current iteration), or how the Death Star II seemed to vaporize, and then didn’t (Return of the Jedi vs Rise of Skywalker), and how all the little real world inconsistencies that creep into a franchise as large as Star Wars could still be reconcilable within the larger tapestry of the story of Star Wars.

I’ve been watching Season 2 of Andor, which is about the “dark times” when the Empire ruled before the events of Rogue One and A New Hope. It is not your uncle’s Star Wars*, full of fast quips and wacky battles, and spectacular visual effects. It is a grounded, realistic, and I hesitate to use the word “gritty” (mostly because that as a term to describe media is becoming trite), but certainly more grim. Case in point, episode 3 of season 2 of Andor features an attempted rape of a key character by an Imperial officer. I doubt George Lucas, who famously and consistently has said he wrote his movies for 12 year olds, would have included such a scene. But it found its way into Andor.

I am not here to discuss the almost-rape scene, which was intense enough to make my wife leave the room and me to mute the tv and look away until it was over, but to make the point that it is obviously a very different Star Wars than the one that includes Jar Jar Binks, C-3PO, and other more ridiculous characters and slapstick comedy. The creators of Andor, no doubt, want to emphasize the evil of the Empire. (I think that was made evident with the smoking skeletons of Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru – 12 year olds did he say?). This era’s broader media is a lot about shock value and “realism”. Look no further than the fantasy series Game of Thrones, the crime show Breaking Bad, or every iteration even of CSI or SVU that is on broadcast tv now. When I was growing up, it wasn’t quite that way, or was just beginning to become so, I guess. It has just now made its way into Star Wars.

Personal opinion: sexual assault never needs to be seen on screen. Grisly murders, either, for that matter. Your opinion may vary, and I know many fans of Andor and other shows feel different. I won’t debate that here.

More broadly, however, I am in favor of the grounded storytelling that Andor represents, as long as I also get my sarcastic smugglers (Han Solo in everything), stomping space pirate droids (Skeleton Crew), and other fun from “far, far away”. I am in favor of all the campfire stories that are told about all the corners of the galaxy, and the adventures that are waiting to be unveiled. I’ve said it before, but I hope I am alive at 90 years old to witness the 100th anniversary of Star Wars, and cognizant enough along the way to enjoy all the campfire stories yet to be told. After all, it’s a large galaxy.

I have been underwhelmed by the general storytelling in Andor 2, but that is just my personal taste. I also don’t much care for Rise of Skywalker, and for a long, long time didn’t appreciate Phantom Menace. Attack of the Clones still is only half a movie, and Revenge of the Sith still has Vader murdering a room of Jedi children (Implied. 12 year olds, did he say?). But to each their own. Empire Strikes Back is still the best, and I love Solo, and various shows. Again, the point is that there is a campfire story for everyone to enjoy. Not your taste? There are other campfires burning bright in the Star Wars galaxy.

This is a lesson I have had a hard time learning, and it goes far beyond Star Wars. I used to hold so much vitriol against the Phantom Menace until I started to love it (mostly). Entertainment does not need to appeal to everyone. This has been a thing for as long as humanity has had entertainment I am sure, sitting around literal campfires munching on wooly mammoth bits and telling stories, but recently people have had such strong opinions about things, then they share those opinions on message boards, social media, and other internet-al things. Sometimes strong opinions help you find your people, other people who feel the same way you do about the Last Jedi, for instance. But that can cut both ways. While some love, others hate, and well, that has consequences when the creators of Star Wars begin to feel unsafe (Ahmed Best), or marginalized (John Boyega), or even thrust out (Kelly Marie Tran).

It easy to say we should all get along, but harder to do it.

Look, I’ve digressed a bit, but back to the campfires: telling stories is good. They don’t all have to be consistent, and what is made for 12 year olds doesn’t have to appeal to 38 year olds, and vice versa. What should matter is that everyone has a place at the campfire, and that we all enjoy some of the stories being told. Maybe some of them are for everyone, and others are for when the 12 year olds go to bed, but all have a place and can be enjoyed. So dim the lights, grab the popcorn, and turn on the campfire that is telling your favorite rendition of Star Wars, a story from “a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…”

*can confirm, am an uncle

I, Jedi

I don’t want to be angry. I know, I know: I just wrote an entire blog post about getting back into the fight, but over the past few days I’ve been doing some thinking. I don’t want to be angry; I want to be passionate. And there is a difference.

The picture above is a very simple picture of the creature Jar Jar Binks from Star Wars: The Phantom Menace facing the viewer, sitting on a grid, leaning against a yellow crate on the right with a red crate on the left. He appears to be lost in thought, resting his head on his left hand with his legs splayed out in front of him. The image mirrors how I’ve felt the past few days.

Including the Binks picture is more than just illustration. It reminds me of the difference between the Jedi and the Sith, two opposing factions of Force users from the Star Wars universe. The difference I wish to discuss is the difference between anger and passion. The Sith, categorized as evil and dark, use anger as a pathway to power, and as a tool to wield power over others.

Jedi Master Yoda says the Dark Side of the Force is “easier, quicker: more seductive” just as anger which is “quick to join” in the heat of the moment. Much more subtle is the passion of the Jedi. Passion must be fed, it must be nurtured: cared for. Passion derives its strength from love, ultimately, and slowly builds into an explosive force (no space-pun intended).

For the uninitiated, the untrained, the unwary, and the impatient, anger can seem like passion, but it has an edge and a bite. It cuts and crushes, and ultimately exhausts, leaving a bitter shell behind. Passion fuels, paradoxically softens, like sand paper smoothing a rough edge leaving a gentle curve. Both produce heat, come at the expense of friction, but only passion boosts and allows its wielder to thrive.

I want passion. I reject anger. I know, I also quoted the OCB which says “be angry and sin not” but I don’t much like that translation or that connotation. I prefer a verse that says “be passionate, and not angry, which leads to sin” but I didn’t write the thing. At any rate, I don’t want the edge, the cutting force of anger to incite me to fight. I want to overcome with passion, and be overcome by it. I don’t want to fight. I want to be moving so powerfully that no one, or thing, could come close to fighting me, that it would be a futile waste of effort. I am not a violent person, and don’t wish to become one in the chase away from lethargy.

In the novelization of Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, Master Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi is described as a “devastating warrior” who would prefer to “sit alone in a quiet cave and meditate” and that is more akin to what I would be. So full of the Force of passion, that would I ever need to do battle. I’d be unmatched, but really, I’d want to be amidst the life-giving Force itself. Kenobi so disdains battle that he is known throughout the Clone Wars as the “Negotiator”: the fighter who prefers to talk. That’s exactly what I want to be, in this example.

Yoda wasn’t great because he was a warrior; he reminded Luke Skywalker that “wars not make one great”. Yoda was great because he chose not to fight, not to engage, and to amass wisdom, peace, and patience. Eventually, evil was brought down by its own hubris, blindness, and corruption: from the inside. By fighting at all, Luke was being drawn towards the Dark Side. Only in throwing away (literally: his lightsaber) his fight could he start the course of action that would lead to evil’s destruction. That is what I want to be, in that example: the fighter who chooses love instead.

Maybe that sounds all too space hippy, but why not? Glamor all too often chooses the wrong target: the bold, the brash, the battler. Perhaps the ones who deserve the glory are the peacemakers, the meek, and the gentle. It takes passion to wear away the rough edges of confrontation, of power-lust, and of greatness-seeking behavior. Color me invested in rebelling against the quick, seductive lure of anger and moving towards the patient cultivation of passion. I don’t want to be the hero, the Anakin who fell to anger’s dark lure. I want to be Kenobi, be Luke, Yoda, passionate about what drives my passion and full of light. That is what I am chasing.

Look, I wasn’t wrong a few days ago, just unrefined. I want to constantly be growing, and moving in the right direction. I think I’ve found the bedrock beneath the sand I was sifting. Now I have something I can build on. True growth, I believe, is in admitting when one is wrong, and by altering course to fly in the right direction. So here’s me, in my little starfighter, headed for meditation and growth and away from battle.

The Fight in Me

I’ve got my cans on, listening to Jeremy Renner croon it up. (Wait. Hawkeye from the Avengers is a singer?)

Renner inspires me. Crushed nearly to death by a snowcat, he still survives, thrives, and lives. Lately I’ve been watching his Disney+ show Rennervations in which he takes these worn out and decommissioned vehicles and turns them into something that gives back to a community, whether it be a mobile dance studio or music studio (built out of a tour bus or city bus!). I have two episodes yet to watch in the first season and hope the show gets picked up for a second, and even if it doesn’t, I hope Renner keeps up the philanthropy anyway.

I think about Renner, and how he forced himself back from the brink of oblivion to draw breath again. If he can, so I can. I’ve been behind the eight ball, under the surface, floundering. I’ve been knocked senseless, and can’t quite feel enough rage to get back off the mat and fight back. I don’t know that I believe in fighting anymore, but those standing over me with fists raised don’t seem to care. I recall “be angry and sin not” from the OCB, and think maybe it’s time I drew up some righteous anger to fuel my fight.

There is plenty to make me angry, to enflame my passions: injustice, cruelty, and outright black evil. But I spent my childhood in a blind rage, fighting anything and everything. I engaged in one final war to end all my wars and break free from my personal hell. Ever since I’ve been trying to rest and be at peace. I haven’t found it. Rest eludes me; peace isn’t mine. Maybe that’s because there are battles yet to fight.

Jeremy Renner is acting again, and released an album about his horrific accident. I can’t muster the impetus to get off my butt and engage with my hobbies. I am mostly healthy, and though depression is a constant specter, I have few excuses. I wonder what would happen if I was in a terrible accident and was faced with the choice Renner was: give up and die or get up and live? What would I do?

I’ve wanted to keep my head down, and not engage. I am afraid. What if I start fighting again and can’t stop? I remember the black temper of my teens and early adulthood. I don’t want to go back there, but maybe there is a middle ground? I remember a moment from Avengers: Age of Ultron in which Renner’s Hawkeye is fighting the robotic army of Ultron, and takes a second to try to motivate the inexperienced Wanda Maximoff.

“Hey, look at me. It’s your fault, it’s everyone’s fault, who cares? Are you up for this? Are you? Look I just need to know because the city -it’s flying. Ok, look, the city is flying, we’re fighting an army of robots, and I have a bow and arrow. None of this makes sense. But I’m going out there because it’s my job, okay, and I can’t do my job and babysit. Doesn’t matter what you did or what you were. If you go out there you fight, and you fight… Staying here you’re good, I’ll send your brother to come find you, but if you step out that door – you are an Avenger.”
Hawkeye (Jeremy Renner)

For too long I’ve been in the shadows, kept down by trepidation, fearful of my own shadow. It’s familiar territory. I spent my childhood in a prison of anxiety, unable to walk into a Blockbuster (kids, ask your parents or grandparents) to return a video. I was angry at everything, and nothing. Afraid of everything. Then I grew up and imagined that I got help for my demons and convinced myself that I was healthy.

The truth is: I feel like Wanda Maximoff. Caught in an unstable situation I don’t understand, that is partly my fault, and unable to make sense of what I am supposed to do next. But I feel words coming to me telling me that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what the past held. What matters is what I do next. I need to muster the courage, the righteous fury, and energy to get up, step out the door keeping me held back, and become what I am meant to be.

I need to fight again!

The Assassination of Padme Amidala

Trigger warning: misogyny.

I’ve been trying to read more, and I’ve found a strategy that works more than it doesn’t: reading before I retire to bed for the evening. This gives me a solid half hour or longer where I don’t feel I should be doing anything else, and can relax into a book. In this way I finished a re-read-through of the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings. I then cast about for another novel, and happened upon an old favorite, the novelization of Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith. I’ve probably not picked up that book in over a decade, and was excited to dive into Star Wars and rediscover another old friend.

I was disappointed by what I found.

For the most part, the story was as I remembered, a commendable re-framing of the film from something that is vaguely a mess into something a bit more epic and coherent and a story worth telling. As I began to read, however, cracks appeared in the prose almost immediately, to my eye, making the narrative melodramatic and grandiose. That by itself wouldn’t have caused me to stop reading, after all, that is part of the grand space opera that is Star Wars. What did stop me in my tracks was the following passage about Padme, in relation to Anakin:

This is Padme Amidala: She is an astonishingly accomplished young woman, who in her short life has been already the youngest-elected Queen of her planet, a daring partisan guerrilla, and a measured, articulate, and persuasive voice of reason in the Republic Senate. But she is, at this moment, non of these things. She can still play at them – she pretends to be a Senator, she still wields the moral authority of a former Queen, and she is not shy about using her reputation for fierce physical courage to her advantage in political debate – but her inmost reality, the most fundamental, unbreakable core of her being, is something entirely different. She is Anakin Skywalker’s wife…for Padme Amidala, saying “I am Anakin Skywalker’s wife” is saying neither more or less than “I am alive”. Her life before Anakin belonged to someone else, some lesser being to be pitied, some poor impoverished spirit who could never suspect how profoundly life should be lived. Her real life began the first time she looked into Anakin Skywalker’s eyes…
Revenge of the Sith by Matthew Stover

The rest of the passage passes into an adulation of who and what Anakin Skywalker is, this being that Padme is “privileged” to love. I am trying to find another word to describe this than disgusting, but I must call it what it is: misogyny.

The first part of what I quote is all true, and really is a recap of Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones. But where this description of a powerful and magnificent woman truly goes off the rails is when it describes all of Padme’s accomplishments as belonging to “some lesser being to be pitied” and that she “pretends to be” what she is. As if this woman doesn’t matter, and all her accomplishments are/were worthless until/because she met Anakin and married him and became his property. That is how this really reads: as a description of something that belongs to Anakin, like Padme is no more than R2-D2 or his lightsaber. A magnificent thing that only has meaning because of who it is connected to: a man. And really, the rest of what I don’t quote is a lavish description of Anakin’s man-ness, but it is even more sickening than the defimination of Padme because it is so adulatory. It’s gross.

I’ve never met Matthew Stover and I don’t want to engage in character assassination, but what he writes here is horrible. Maybe he is trying to do some subtle thing where he is describing the truly dark nature of Anakin through this violation of everything that Padme is, but nothing about the preceding parts of the book are subtle at all. In fact, Stover hits the reader over the head with his flowery, verbose, and at times outrageous descriptions of Anakin, Obi-Wan, Dooku, and what happens between them. This bit that I quote and describe is set just after the “rescue” of Palpatine and Anakin murdering Count Dooku. It is hard to miss that Anakin decides to kill the Count in cold blood, Stover even makes that clear, and then the reader almost immediately arrives at this statement that Padme was nothing before Anakin, and that she only matters as his wife.

I couldn’t read any more. I have already read this book a few times, but this go round I had to stop. Look, I am not virtue signaling here. I have a long way to go in my treatment of women and how I regard others outside myself. But I think it personal progress that before I would read this part and keep reading to finish the book. That before I didn’t pause, that I accepted this description of Padme as consistent and approvable, but now I couldn’t not and would not move past it.

I think Dave Filoni’s animated Clone Wars, created after Revenge of the Sith (movie and book), bears out that Padme never stopped being every inch Padme. If I recall properly, Padme and Anakin do not see eye to eye about the politics and waging of the Clone Wars, and that she is not cowed by him or subservient to him, as described in this book. Maybe Filoni was trying to counter this passage, or maybe he simply has a better grasp of the characters of Star Wars than does Matthew Stover. Either way, what Stover does here is unforgivable.

No woman is given meaning through the man she is married to, or engaged to, or chooses to hang around. A woman’s being and personhood are hers alone, and everything she accomplishes, and does, and achieves are hers forever and part of her forever. They are not swept away by marriage or association. I happen to believe women are stronger by far than men, in a variety of ways and for a variety of reasons, one of which is the continued unconscionable way that men treat women worldwide. We have made them into the stronger gender. Like the Barbie movie showed a glimpse of, women are strong in ways that men cannot even comprehend. I don’t believe for one second that Padme only matters because she married Anakin, and that her roles of Queen, Senator, and Woman are meaningless because she wasn’t yet married to this man. That is, quite frankly, misogynistic excrement.

Believe me when I say that Padme neither receives nor is given anything better throughout the rest of the book. Some of that probably comes from George Lucas’ treatment of Padme in the script, an early version of which Matthew Stover no doubt worked from, and that Stover could only do so much to change. After all, Padme dies of broken heart at the end of the story, which is itself a dumb and weird thing to do. But Stover probably had the freedom to describe Padme how he wished in his own book, and he chose to do as I have quoted. It is bewildering to me that he did so, but not surprising beyond the fact that men are misogynistic and get away with it so boldly.

I could say more, but that might risk taking this critique down into diatribe. I will end by simply saying that I wish the novelization of Revenge of the Sith was better than it is, but I will no longer own a copy or read it. Life is too short to allow thoughts and ideas into my head that don’t advance an equal and uplifting view of all my fellow humans. I hope to always advance in my personal growth, and trust that will include how I view and treat others every day.

for Padme Amidala, Hero of the Old Republic

Grey Pilgrim

I am in the midst of a downturn in my mental health. I have been labeled as having a high likelihood of having a bipolar disorder, and this feels more true now than it has in a long time. For a while I was doing very well. I was creating, I felt good, and I spent time in the metaphorical sun. Today, and for a while now, I haven’t created, I’ve felt out of sorts, and I’ve been lurking in a metaphorical Mirkwood.

I often think of Gandalf, one of my favorite characters from JRR Tolkien’s imagination. He is called the Grey Pilgrim, because his wizard color is grey. Pilgrim is an interesting moniker. It means “a person who journeys to a sacred place” and the thesaurus adds the connotations of “traveler” or “wayfarer”. In Tolkien’s mythology there are a few sacred places in Middle-Earth, and out of it is the most sacred place of all: The Undying Lands, or Valinor, sort of a heaven realm.

Gandalf was certainly a wayfarer and traveler as he journeyed all over Middle-Earth during his long years, but he was also tasked with opposing the Dark Lord Sauron. Once that mission was complete, he was allowed to return to Valinor, and thus embarked on a final journey to the most sacred place of all.

I feel like a different kind of grey pilgrim. I am certainly no wizard, but since my early teenage years I’ve often felt a grey or murky blackness hang over me. Also, since even earlier than being a teen, I’ve been inculcated in religious things, and read John Bunyan’s famous story Pilgrim’s Progress. An allegory for spiritual things, the pilgrim Christian treks ever towards the Celestial City, certainly a “journey to a sacred place”. I was always taught to strive towards Heaven, an eventual home beyond earth and death. My depression, bipolar disorder, or whatever this is that I’ve had since 10 or 11, has made the doctrine of heaven problematic for me.

For one thing, I was suicidal for a long time, not that many knew or paid attention to the signs. As a young kid taught that a paradise awaited me on the other side, it was difficult to resist the temptation to shuffle off this depressing mortal coil and thus enter blissful realms. I know the Catholic Church used to preach that suicide victims couldn’t enter Heaven, probably for this macabre reason of keeping the downtrodden from seeking a better existence. But my fundamentalist church had no such teaching. Anyway, I obviously survived suicide and haven’t arrived on “God’s golden shores” but I often wished that I could have go through with various plans. The lure of a bright peaceful afterlife was a tantalizing vision.

For another thing, the idea that A Better Place (C) awaits would perhaps imply that suffering on Earth will yield rewards later on in that better place, either in the place itself, or through some sort of riches being doled out. In a city paved with supposed golden streets and boasting pearl gates, riches seemed sort of a cheap reward to me, but anyway I never liked the idea that I was being made to suffer so that I could reap later. That idea rings cruel, especially because there are many worse off than depressed, bipolar(?) me. That’s a lot of copping out on easing real, immediate pain in order to make belated reparations later. Why go through the charade if God could wave his spiritual hand and ease all suffering immediately?

What then is my pilgrimage about, if I am a different sort of grey pilgrim than a wandering, world-weary wizard or a 17th century wayfarer? When I discover that, I will let you know. For today, as Gandalf did for a time, I am stepping through the oppressive, murky, and dismal Mirkwood. I don’t have a hobbit, or thirteen surly dwarves, in tow, neither do I have a stronghold of darkness in Dol Guldor to exorcise, but wander I still. I often wish my purpose was as clear cut as kicking dragon-butt or tossing jewelry in a volcano. Incredibly difficult, dangerous, and downright depressing as those journeys turned out to be at times, there at least was a drive behind them, and a world or mountain to be gained in the here and now.

Eventually, as did Gandalf, Frodo and Bilbo were admitted into the Undying Lands as a respite for all the pain they endured in Middle-Earth, but they also had many years of rest in their homes as well (maybe not Gandalf, but Bilbo hung out in Rivendell for many years after defeating the dragon and that was pretty good by all accounts). Where is my Last Homely House? Where is my Bag End? Maybe I haven’t found it yet, but I wish I could.

Ultimately, I don’t know if heaven awaits me after death, or if it is a forever sleep I will definitely have earned whenever I do die, but I do know that I have life in me yet to live. It is sad and depressing right now, but I’ve also ridden these waves enough to know that as down as I am now, I will (should) surge upwards once more. It’s just the constant surfing is making me sick and tired. As I haven’t a choice but to be a pilgrim, I will keep moving. Maybe there is at least a cozy inn on the horizon that will serve a good meal and provide a bed better than a forest root.

I don’t know how to shake my depression. I don’t feel I’ve done a terribly good job of doing anything but enduring the troughs, and nothing really seems to work to bring me out except time. Gandalf himself had many long years of waiting before the Ring was found and he could formulate a plan to defeat Sauron, and in the end, such defeat (and Ring) was out of his hands anyway. So I guess I will wait for this greyness to lift. At least then I will feel more myself again, for a time. Damn, but this is frustrating.

But, to take a page from Tolkien’s book, Gandalf looked for and found happiness and pleasure where he could. Whether in lighting fireworks for young hobbits at Bilbo’s birthday, or in fighting for those less fortunate many a time, he always found a way to rise above his circumstances. That’s what I see I must do. Not necessarily go out and light off a firecracker, but enjoy what I can when I can. Gandalf, my old friend, I will do my best!

(A friend of mine would recommend pipe-weed to me, but as Old Toby doesn’t exist, I’ll have to do without smoke rings. And I’m not one for smoking anyway.)

Destined for Adventure

Indiana Jones. I grew up enthralled by the character of Dr. Jones and his erstwhile associates: Marion Ravenwood, Short Round, Sallah, Marcus Brody, Henry Jones, Sr., Mutt Williams, and the many colorful villains of his archeological (dare we say, grave robbing?) career. Raiders of the Lost Ark premiered in 1981 followed by Temple of Doom in 1984 and finally The Last Crusade in 1989. I came along in-between Doom and Crusade, so for me, Indiana Jones has always existed alongside Star Wars, Star Trek, and other franchises that my family loved.

With great joy in 2008, a mere 19 years after he rode off into the sunset, I went to the theater while in college to see the long-awaited next installment of Dr. Jones’ career: Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. I wondered if that would finally be all, but 15 years later in 2023, Indiana had one last adventure in him for Dial of Destiny.

Between Star Wars and Indiana Jones (and many other films!) I have watched actor Harrison Ford all my life. It will be a sad day indeed when he “goes first into the next great adventure” but his beloved characters from Han Solo to Indy will always be with us.

There is something evergreen about stories that span the world, led by a great action hero who never loses his hat. Steven Spielberg and George Lucas may not have been wholly original themselves when creating the character, mining as they did the 1930’s and 1940’s action serials that they themselves enjoyed once upon a time. Somewhere between robbing the past, and grabbing from their present with Harrison Ford, they created an icon. Something about the fedora, leather jacket, and bullwhip was an instant classic, all brought to life by Ford’s portrayal.

I got to see Dial of Destiny on Independence Day with my parents, and it really felt like a love letter to the character and the adventures he has gone on, while being an entirely new foray into the world that Lucas and Spielberg created so long ago on a Hawaiian beach as Star Wars was premiering back in Los Angeles. Dial does not shy away from the character’s age and fragility, matched by that of Harrison Ford who is now 80 years old. In itself, it is amazing that Ford has the energy and ability to portray such a physical character, helped no doubt by stunt doubles both digital and real, but all of Ford’s acting prowess is still on display as Indiana is world weary, regretful, and facing the end of his teaching career, archeology, and life.

Eventually I assume that even Indiana Jones will be rebooted for a future generation, as all old things become new again. Like Han Solo being re-portrayed in Solo: A Star Wars Story, you can’t keep the good archeologist down. Plus, Nazis always need their comeuppance, and who better to punch them repeatedly in the face than a good old American professor? “The pen is mightier than the sword” as Marcus Brody exclaims, and while Indy presumes that the real dangers to archeology might be folklore, he finds himself in plenty of scrapes along the way.

Dial of Destiny ends on a bittersweet note, both to the film and the franchise. I need to see it a few more times to see how I really feel about the story, but my initial feelings are that it is a solid entry to a grandly entertaining series. If you were to ask me which Indiana Jones film is my favorite, it would have to be Last Crusade. The interplay between Sean Connery and Harrison Ford is fantastic, and I’ve always loved the father/son story. Raiders of the Lost Ark and Kingdom of the Crystal Skull are two and three. I don’t find Temple of Doom enjoyable to watch, despite some really great sequences and some fine moments. As I’ve said, having only seen Dial of Destiny once, it is hard to rank it. But I’m glad for any Indiana Jones I’ve received, and those that put their hearts and souls into the films deserve all the praise. Films are meant to entertain, and Indiana Jones does that the best of any.

Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny Promo Poster

The Ecstasy of Guns

Trigger warning: guns and gun violence is discussed.

America has a gun problem. That much is obvious. Death by guns is the leading cause of death for our children; the NRA has bought and paid for politicians who continually block sensible gun control legislation; and one can barely turn on a television without seeing something gun related on the screen.

It is this last part I want to discuss today: the rampant image of the gun on screen. I am old enough to have been a teenager when the Columbine school shooting occurred and I remember then that many people blamed the violence on video games. I believe that myth has since been debunked, that violent video games do not directly cause gun violence, but I think it is still a related topic.

Guns are glorified in America. They are made to appear “cool” and “desirable” and as positive means of solving problems. Their aesthetic design is one such to make them as slick and natural an extension of the hand and arm as possible. The sound design of films and television shows is done in such a way as to enhance that glorification. Have you ever noticed someone in a movie using hearing protection when firing guns? I can count on half a hand. Guns are loud. I can tell you this from experience, but guns are never really that loud in film, unless it is germane to a funny plot point. Everything about the way guns are presented is to minimize their faults and maximize their luster.

That simply cannot be an ancillary fact, ignorable to the overall desirability of gun shaped weapons. And when a gun is seen as “cool”, and shown over and over again to be the solution to, dare I say, any problem on screen, then it cannot be coincidence that guns are turned to as the solution to many real-world problems as well.

I watched a mid-grade science fiction film the other night, the new 65 starring Adam Driver and Arianna Greenblatt. Driver is a pilot of a spacecraft that crashes on a world of dinosaurs, and quite unbelievably to the plot, he has a convenient locker filled with survival gear including, you guessed it, a futuristic assault rifle. The rifle is the solution to the dinosaur problem, it makes a nifty sound when fired, and looks amazing when the rounds explode from the barrel. Without it, the marooned pilot and friend would surely have perished. Not only is the rifle a lazy solution to a light plot, but it is also just one more example of guns superseding ingenuity in a difficult situation, cinematically.

A popular film franchise starring Keanu Reeves, John Wick, I believe exists solely because American, and to be fair, world wide audiences as well, love gun play and gun violence. In fact, John Wick is lighter on plot than 65 is, and almost the entirety of all four Wick movies to date are almost entirely comprised of various gun battles. The camera lingers on the guns themselves and shows them in the best of lighting and situations so as to amp up their already prodigious role in the films. This is nothing new. Guns and gun violence have been apart of cinema since the beginnings, with western films and others. The 70’s and 80’s were heydays of “action” movies, with “action” being a codeword for “gun violence” in many cases.

Before 1984’s Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, there existed three ratings for movies: G, PG, and R. G for General Audiences, PG for Parental Guidance suggested, and R for Restricted, meaning 18 and older only. Steven Spielberg wanted another rating between PG and R to keep his younger children from asking to see Temple of Doom, and he petitioned for, and received, the first ever PG-13 rating. Suddenly a new genre of film was born that could include much of the violence (read: guns) of other films, some non-graphic nudity, and swearing (without more than one fuck) and be acceptable for children 13 and older.

There is much to say about the ratings system, but for now my point is that gun violence, which primarily had been restricted to adult audiences, was now widely available to teenagers for the first time. Temple of Doom didn’t have a whole lot of gun violence that wasn’t cartoon-y, but it had some. But many, many other movies have had a lot more. John Wick is still an R-rated flick, but others with only slightly less gun violence are not. What have we unleashed with this bright, technicolor tableau of silver screen gun violence? I don’t believe it directly causes real world gun violence, but I believe it is contributory to an overall culture that glorifies the gun.

Such horrific weapons as guns should not be glorified at all, should not be presented as solutions to problems in fictional stories, and should not be desirable objects to possess. They are far too destructive. As our stories take us as humans, there our hearts and minds go. Make something “normal” or “acceptable” on screen, and we will start to normalize it in real life as well. Usually, I would champion this for acceptance, for representation, and for many other things, but when used to negative effect, I must condemn it.

To take another example for a moment: show characters making racist jokes in a positive light in a popular movie and wait and see how long it is before you hear those same jokes in your world. Our former president unleashed a slightly hidden part of our culture by making sexual harassment, racism, and all sorts of evil acceptable from our highest political office and the effects are still tearing America apart. Presidents, and movies, can do that very well.

I don’t have an immediate solution to Hollywood’s obsession with guns, but I can do one, small thing and that is this: I will no longer glorify guns. I find myself doing it in a small way: one is when talking about photography. For some reason that I have not researched, gun metaphors are used for photography. Shooting film, getting the shot, taking a shot etc are all code for taking a picture. As much as possible, I don’t use these phrases. I don’t use a film camera, but I can get a picture or take a pic instead of a “shot”.

Another example is in my toy photography. I love Star Wars as a franchise (despite it, too, glorifying shooting weapons to a degree) and take a lot of pictures of Star Wars action figures. Almost every single figure comes with, or has a place for, a gun shaped object. To display or photograph them naturally is to have a place for their tiny plastic gun. Going forward, I want to only take photos of the figures in positive aspects, and to minimize or remove entirely their weapons. This will be difficult in a conflict heavy galaxy far, far away, but I believe it can be done.

The journey towards de-glorifying guns starts with personal choice and action, much like the decisions to reject sexism, racism, homo/trans/etc-phobia and many other evils. It some ways, it starts with me. I want to see positive change, therefore it is incumbent on me to evidence that positive change. I stopped going to gun ranges for fun a while back, I am choosing less violent (gun-centric or otherwise) movies to enjoy, and changing my photographic vocabulary and the object of my photographic endeavors is a part of that. Ultimately I believe positive change is possible, but it takes many small steps along different paths than have been previously traveled.

Lessons from Otto

He fell to the ground, the bolt being pulled from the ceiling under his weight. In the wake of his failed suicide attempt, Otto noticed that the newspaper was advertising a sale on flowers, so he bought two bouquets and took them to his wife’s graveside. This episode perfectly captures the absurdity of a suicidal life.

I am not suicidal, but lately I have been finding it difficult to find the joy and fun in life. I wrote previously about my current existential crisis. Then a curious thing happened: I went to see a film with my mother. The film was A Man Called Otto starring Tom Hanks as Otto. You see, my mother and I have a habit of seeing Hanks’ films in the theater, having seen quite a few together. We did not expect such an intense and heavy subject matter as suicide from Tom Hanks, who (with rare exception) usually plays things a little lighter.

But Otto, who recently lost his wife to cancer, and endured other personal tragedy during their marriage, was eager, not to die, but to join his wife in the afterlife. He tried, and failed, to die three times, but was always interrupted by neighbors in need. Indeed, the only other thing that kept Otto living was his daily routine as de facto head of the home owner’s association. He quite simply didn’t know what else to do other than what he had been doing.

That felt quite a bit like me. I have no wife to join in death, and as I said, I am not suicidal. I passed that bridge a long time ago when I, too, survived a suicide attempt, but no longer. The questions I need answered are “why do I live?” and “what do I do with life?” That I don’t quite know. But Otto taught me something that perhaps will answer my questions.

From Otto I learned that life’s chief end is to care for others. Whether new or old, Otto’s neighbors needed his help, his love, and his care: whether as a place to crash, as a hand fighting the evil development company, or as a driving teacher, among other things. Without Otto, their lives would have played out much differently. Not to say this film was some update of It’s A Wonderful Life, as it wasn’t that chintzy, but the importance of human connection cannot be overlooked.

Second, a life’s pursuits are suitable for themselves. Otto, as a younger man, was fascinated by engineering, particularly the inner workings of automobile engines. He didn’t know what to do with his passion until his wife encouraged him to attend, and graduate from, university. He then procured employment and lived a full life. Art and other interests are reasonable things to indulge and follow after, if for no other purpose than the joy they bring. Otto found pleasure in cars throughout his entire life, for example.

Finally, Otto demonstrated that until death does arrive, life is to be lived. No effort to bring or delay death will ultimately be successful. Otto tried several times to die, and the tragedy was that once he found a reason for living again, he only was able to live for a few more years. But they were full years, of fun and happiness.

I have family and friends around me that I need to continue to invest in, and invest I shall. I want to see my youngest nieces grow up into young women in all the zest and color that they currently possess. I want to be a companion for my parents, and sister. My wife and I should live a good, long life together and be fulfilled in many things.

I want to continue to pursue my art and creative passions. Not for any grand end, but for the pleasure and delight they bring me. That is a perfectly good thing, and those are not to be diminished.

I want to live. I haven’t wanted to die in a very long time, and never wish to inhabit that mental space again, but I do want to live. That is no small thing to me.

I know I’ve said much of this before, and while the previous post about the bleakness of life stands true, it isn’t always true. I will continue to fight my mental illness’ lies and hold true to the lessons Otto taught me. Truly the experience of that film was unexpected, but exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it. I don’t particularly believe in fate, choosing instead to find serendipity in the randomness of the universe, but that was a heck of a serendipitous moment yesterday afternoon, and one for which I am grateful.

I hesitate to recommend A Man Called Otto for general viewing, as it’s themes and images can be triggering to some, but it was a powerful film for me; I will carry Otto for a while in my mind and in my heart.