Christmas

I know I may have given the impression that I am a grouch who doesn't like anything (save one play I saw over a year ago), but although I may come off as something of a Scrooge, when it comes to Christmas, I am essentially the anti-Scrooge.

I love Christmas. I love how the streets are so busy (something that is even more noticeable now that I live near a big city), I love the food, I love the warm feeling you get going into a shop or stepping into your home after walking outside in the bitter cold, I love wrapping up in coats, scarves and gloves, I love the snow, I love the Christmas trees and their smell, I love how I can go home and visit my family, having been away for so long now, I love the annoying Christmas songs, I love the blinding, obnoxious lights and cheesy decorations, I love carol services, I love going to church on Christmas day, I love having chocolate for breakfast, I love starting drinking as early as ten o'clock in the morning, I even don't especially mind how Christmas has become commercialised.

I. Love. Christmas.

I wish I had something profound, philosophical or intellectually stimulating to say, but I don't. I just wanted to share my love for Christmas and encourage everyone else to enjoy this holiday. I want you all to do something that is traditional to you: visit your grandma, buy some Christmas presents, wander into a carol service, give your significant other a kiss under the mistletoe, watch Home Alone, The Snowman, The Muppets Christmas Carol or Die Hard, stroll through a snow-covered park, eat a mince pie. In my opinion, Christmas isn't a time to be angry about what you don't like, it's about enjoying what you do like.

Of course, if you don't celebrate Christmas, that's not a problem. Have a happy Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, or whatever it is you celebrate during this time, and if you don't celebrate anything, there's nothing that says you can't simply enjoy the month of December.

Merry Christmas.

Pretty to Plain, Just Add Glasses

"She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me" - Mr Darcy of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice

Sorry to state the obvious, but novels are not a visual medium. When a character is described as unattractive, we take their word for it, and create a picture of them in our minds with that in consideration. Because beauty is a personal and subjective thing, many people will have differing ideas on what is unattractive. Not to mention, if not a lot of detail is given, you can interpret 'unattractive' to mean anything from not conventionally attractive in the time period the novel is set in, to utterly repulsive. But what happens when a novel is adapted into a film? Casting directors need to cast the beautiful characters, which should be easy enough with Hollywood's abundance of gorgeous stars. But what to do about the plain women and the unappealing men? Will they cast an unattractive actor? Perhaps a plain, or less conventionally attractive actor? Unsurprisingly, they will often opt for an attractive actor, and they may or may not go to lengths to hide their good looks, depending on how important the character's appearance is to the plot. But expect the character to still look beautiful, as a quote from The Simpsons of all places puts it quite well, they will be "TV-ugly, not ugly-ugly".

It always bothers me when a character in a book is described, sometimes even at great length, as unattractive, at least conventionally so, and yet they are played by a beautiful actor. One example that perfectly illustrates my point is Keira Knightley as Eliza Bennet in the 2005 adaptation of Pride and Prejudice. It was a stupid casting choice because Knightley is not only a very attractive woman, she probably would have been considered very attractive in the era in which the film is set, so you can't even justify it with the differing standards of the time periods. The casting of Jennifer Ehle in the 1995 BBC adaptation was, I felt, much more fitting. Although by no means an unattractive actress, I would believe that, with her rounder face and softer features, Ehle would not have been considered very pretty by the standards of the time period, while her sister Jane, played by Susannah Harker, had the more desirable long face shape and sharper, more striking features.

It is very common for films to have roles of supposedly unattractive characters played by attractive actors, simply because... um... actually I don't know why. Are film makers afraid that we as viewers won't watch a film if it has realistic or ugly characters in them? If we could handle Lon Chaney's hideous makeup in the 1925 film The Phantom of the Opera, we can handle a genuinely plain person every now and then. Anyway, for whatever reason, beautiful people are cast in these roles, usually 'de-prettified' in some way by dressing them in less flattering clothes, giving them bad hair or by adding glasses. Admittedly, giving an attractive actor unflattering clothes is a fairly good trick, but it doesn't really work because a beautiful actor is still beautiful with messy hair and a baggy argyle jumper.

Now, there is something that I must address, because if I don't it is sure to come back and bite me in a less than pleasant place. Here I am going on about characters having makeovers in film adaptations, when I thoroughly enjoyed the film adaptation of Louis Sachar's Holes, despite the fact that this film is guilty of just that. In the book, the protagonist, Stanley Yelnats, is an awkward teenager who is frequently teased for his weight, and later given the nickname Caveman because of his size, and also because a fossil that he finds. In the film, Stanley is played by Shia Labeouf, a tall, thin, lanky actor who is, let's face it, very attractive. Having watched some of the film's extras, they do explain that they had considered casting a chubby or overweight actor, but because in the book the character becomes slimmer and fitter over a long period of time, which would have been very difficult to show in a film, they had to remove that aspect of the character. They also mention that chubby teenage actors are hard to find, although I doubt that very much. True, this casting choice did mean that the whole bullying thing had to be swept under the rug, and the Caveman nickname didn't work quite as well, but I understand why they made this decision, and at least they put some thought into it and didn't just think "well, we can't cast an actual fat person, our characters all need to be attractive!" and I thought the film worked well despite this, so I will let it slide because I just love that film.

Back on the subject of glasses, I have to say that something I always take issue with is this persisting idea that glasses are supposed to be unattractive. It seems that, in movie land, people can't see Julia Robert's face behind a pair of glasses; maybe they are magical or something. Adding glasses works somewhat in older films because glasses were not particularly stylish, and they didn't come in very many differing or fashionable designs, so in these cases I will let it slide, albeit reluctantly. But the problem is that it is still used as a 'de-beautifying' technique to this day, and as a glasses wearer, I can't help but feel offended at the implication that my choice to not stick my fingers in my eyes every morning or spend hundreds of pounds to be shot in the eyes with a laser makes me 'frumpy'. On top of all of that, it is just lazy. Some films utilise makeup and prosthetics to make their actors look less conventionally attractive, but some just feel that throwing on a pair of glasses will do just as well. Don't expect us to see a pair of glasses and automatically see the character as unattractive. Christopher Reeve was still Christopher Reeve, even with his Clark Kent glasses on. Now, I know that Superman wore glasses as a disguise and not as something to make him look less attractive, but my point is that, even when he wore large, thick-framed glasses, he was still a good looking man.

At least the idea of the 'brainy specs' makes a little bit of sense, considering short-sightedness is related to reading a lot of books, even if the reason for this isn't fully understood, so I can accept that it is somewhat grounded in logic. Also, at the very least it is a somewhat flattering trope, even if it does have a somewhat patronising feel to it, as if to say, "Hey, you four-eyed kids may not be good looking, but at least you're smart!" although I suppose it is to separate the 'brains' from the 'beauty' for the sake of balance.

Incidentally, many people now consider glasses to look very attractive, so suck on that, Hollywood.

Much Ado About Nothing: A Tragedy in Disguise

The well-known Shakespeare play Much Ado About Nothing is a comedy about two young lovers whose love is disrupted by a series of misunderstandings brought about by the bitter, sly and manipulative Don John.

For me, the play has always had a large question mark hanging over the 'comedy' part. Yes, it does follow the conventions of a comedy: two young lovers, longing to be together, are kept apart by some form of authority figure, and are eventually able to come together by the end, and they get married and everyone is happy. But many people, especially feminist critics, would question whether the ending was in fact happy.

To give a brief overview of the plot, Claudio and Hero are in love, and intend to marry. But Don John stages a scene for Claudio to 'overhear' so that he thinks Hero is being unfaithful to him. The gullible young Claudio is swindled, and chooses to confront Hero, not privately, but on their wedding day, utterly shaming her until she faints from shock. Claudio then proceeds to leave her, disgraced, at the alter. Hero's family decides to tell Claudio that Hero has died, and when the news of her innocence is announced, Claudio grieves for her. Luckily, it is revealed that Hero is not dead at all, and the two get married and live happily ever after.

At the risk of sounding dramatic, I feel have to add: 'Or do they?' Hero, being the traditional, submissive woman in this play appears to have no pride. She seems to simply accept what Claudio has done to her. Apparently it's okay that he publicly humiliated her and accused her of lechery on rather unsubstantial evidence, because he is very, very sorry. I do not consider this play's ending a happy one, as Claudio in no way pays for his misguided and thoughtless actions, although it is hardly a tragic ending, as there is no death. However, the lack of death does seem to be the one thing that stops this play from being a tragedy. Therefore, I believe Much Ado About Nothing to be a tragedy in disguise.

After some studying and research on the subject of tragedy and comedy, I have discovered a way to make Much Ado About Nothing, the comedy, into The Tragedy of Claudio and Hero with only a few small changes.

First things first, in order to keep with the format of the Aristotelian tragedy, Claudio must be of a high status. As he is a nobleman, he is already of fairly high status, so no changes required there. Very importantly, as a tragic hero, he will need a tragic flaw. Again, no changes needed, as we can call his naïve and influential tendencies a tragic flaw, as well the fact that he is clearly short-sighted and severely judgemental.

The scene in which Don John tricks Claudio into believing Hero is unfaithful could remain wholly intact, and act as the pivotal point where Claudio begins his descent. He shames Hero on their wedding day, again, no changes necessary, and again, Hero's family later tells Claudio that Hero has died as a result of his heartless verbal onslaught.

Here is where the changes must begin (note how late in the play the changes become necessary): Claudio, grieving for Hero, laments the consequences of his actions, but his pride and sense of honour convince him that he did the right thing in confronting her for her misdeed. When it is revealed that Hero is innocent, Claudio, overcome by grief and regret for his grave error of judgement, takes his own life, tragically, before the news reaches him that Hero is not really dead. Hero, bereft at the death of her lover, follows suit and takes her life as well. Curtain.

Note how, with so few changes, all of them towards the end of the play, this comedy becomes a tragedy. The main differences are that Claudio is punished for his cruel actions, after his descent from a noble, if shy, young lover to a cold, unforgiving 'murderer' as it were. Unfortunately, Hero still does not receive a happy ending, but as a tragedy, it is more fitting, whereas it seems unfair that Hero gets no form of compensation for the terrible experience she has had to endure at her new husband's hand, in what is supposed to be a comedy.

Obviously, this is only my opinion, but I feel that the play would have worked better as a tragedy, as it has always bothered me that Claudio avoided the consequences of what I consider to be a terrible thing to do to someone, particularly to the woman you supposedly love, and none of the other characters seemed to find this unjust. What is very interesting, I find, is that if Claudio simply took a minute to think things through before openly insulting Hero, things would have run much more smoothly, whereas the tragic hero Hamlet suffered dearly for thinking things through too much. Shakespeare's heroes need to learn to find a happy medium, I suppose.

Unreliable Narrators

WARNING: This post contains possible spoilers for the following books: Frankenstein, The Woman in White and The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. Proceed with caution.

"Since you have preserved my narration... I would not that a mutilated one should go down to posterity." - Victor Frankenstein of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein

There are a number of texts which touch on the idea of unreliable narrators. They could be biased, they may not have all the information, they may be recounting events which they never witnessed, and are therefore only speculating. In some cases, narrators have a completely different view on events, as in the case of Mark Haddon's The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, in which the narrator is autistic and reports on the events around him quite differently, with very specific details on things which other narrators would likely pass by. There is also the possibility of the work itself being tampered with if, for instance, the frame of the story is that of a diary or a series of letters, they could have been altered by another character within the story. When studying Wilkie Collins' The Woman in White, my English teacher encouraged us to question the validity of Marian's recount through diary extracts as, at the end of her entries, the villain, Count Fosco, writes in her diary. We were led to suspect that her diary had been altered, possibly with entire passages removed by Fosco in order to protect him from being exposed for the crimes he committed.

When characters recount events in which much dialogue takes place, I have always been sceptical as to whether or not the narrator would really be able to take in all the information at the time and report it back perfectly, word for word. If I were to write down a conversation that took place several hours before, I probably wouldn't use quotations and instead use flimsy phrases like 'he said it was a bad idea' because I would be unable to remember his exact wording. Then again, people in real life rarely have the ability to speak so eloquently and with such rich subtext as many novels will have you believe, so some suspension of disbelief is required. Referring back to The Woman in White, Marian's recounts through her diary entries are somewhat justified in having the dialogue flawlessly replicated by her natural gift of a photographic memory, but many other texts seem to imply that characters just remember exactly how every event happened. Apparently they were that impacting and memorable. Or perhaps I'm going prematurely senile.

When reading Mary Shelley's Frankenstein I started to wonder, as the story progressed, how reliable this narration was, as these events were being recounted by more and more narrators. To clarify, at one point in the story, the monster is telling Frankenstein his tale, which Frankenstein dictated to Walton, who was writing the tale in the form of a letter to his sister. Then later, during the monster's tale, he begins retelling the tale of Felix and Safie. I reached the point where it just started to seem ridiculous. I couldn't know at this point if any of the narrative would be accurate as I was reading it, because it had been through three different narrators before it got to Walton's letter, which I was supposedly reading. My suspension of disbelief was strained at best. Then I read a passage in the last chapter in which Walton explains how Frankenstein amended his account, to fix any mistakes, to ensure that the correct story would go down in history. Despite it not being a particularly pressing concern, this did make it seem more believable. Luckily Shelley is a good enough writer that it didn't bother me enough for me to be distracted all through the novel.

So next time you're reading a book, think about what it is that you're actually reading. How reliable do you think your narrator is? Is it a first-person narrative, in the form of a recount, or a third-person narrative, from the point of view of a seemingly omnipotent observer? Perhaps it is told from a random onlooker's perspective, and we only see their interpretation of the events. Or maybe the narrator really is that good at remembering the tiniest detail of every person they encounter. Mind you, some characters seem striking enough to leave enough of an impression that you could never forget that subtle birthmark just above his full, shapely lips, surrounded by just a touch of stubble on his strong, chiselled jaw.

But don't take my word for it, I just escaped from a mental asylum. And I'm a compulsive liar.

The Strive for Perfection

As I know my readers aren't exactly numerous, I think it is safe to say that you all know that I enjoy drawing as well as writing. Recently I have been trying to adjust my style, and it made me wonder: will I ever be pleased with my artwork? With my writing? Will anyone ever be truly satisfied with their own work? Whatever it is that I do, whatever kind of work I produce, however wonderful I think it is at the time, you can guarantee that a year, a month, even a day later, I will gag at the sight of it. I don't think it's a bad thing: the constant strive for perfection is mostly what keeps me going. If I have no other ideas on what life's meaning is, then I can guess that it is trying to get as close to perfection as possible, even if it isn't attainable.

About a year ago I claimed I was satisfied and comfortable with my art style. I was half right: I was definitely comfortable with it, but several months later I decided I needed a change, then later still I wanted to change it again, and again, and only this week I gave it another tweak to try and push it in a new direction. Then today I was looking at some artwork and realised yet another thing I could do to improve my style ('improve' being used rather loosely). Despite all this, I am actually taking it as a good thing that I understand that I will never be fully happy with my work, and that it hasn't discouraged me from continuing.

Another thing that got me thinking was that when I posted a sample of my new style on DeviantArt, I said "This is not definite... the style I currently use isn't particularly expressive and I'm having less fun drawing in that style... Be very honest with your opinions. If you don't like it, do let me know... if enough people prefer the old one I might go back". It made me wonder whether I was really drawing for me anymore. I always used to draw just for me and close friends, as I only saw it as a hobby, and I was never particularly well-known on DeviantArt. But recently I have been getting more attention there and I am becoming more conscious about what other people will like about my work, whether or not they will enjoy it, whether or not they will appreciate it, or 'get it', whether or not they will find my comics funny. If I really think about it, I do still want to draw for myself: I don't see myself drawing for a living, so I think for now I will continue on the road I am setting out for myself and see where it leads from there. Maybe in the future it will be more than a hobby, I just don't know, but for now, I draw for me, so I'm going to stick with what makes me happy.

The Prince of Persia: Sands of Time: The Film That Could Have Been

WARNING: This post contains spoilers for The Prince of Persia: Sands of Time (film).

Yes, I watched the Prince of Persia film to see what it would be like. I was well aware of the fact that there was a good chance that it would be bad, but I decided to give it a chance, after all, they were given some fairly good material. Unfortunately, the film wasn't really bad so much as it was disappointing. They had an opportunity to make something really great and instead they made something passable. It just wasn't anything special, and I think it really had the potential to be.

Think about it. Had this film incorporated the original source material more appropriately they would have essentially had a Persian zombie movie with time-travel and free-running with the saucy prince and the sexy Maharajah's daughter fighting side-by-side and shooting sarcastic quips at one another. If that isn't a recipe for an awesome film then I don't know what is. Honestly, it was practically served to filmmakers on a silver platter. Unfortunately, they completely removed the zombies (technically 'sand demons' but they are essentially zombies), severely downplayed the time-travelling aspect (they rewound time roughly four times throughout the entire film), and took away the leading lady's bow. Plus they kept spouting lines about destiny roughly every five minutes, even giving the main character (previously a nameless prince) the very unsubtle name Dastan (destin, anyone?). I won't even get into how much they loved to title-drop.

It's true that games aren't particularly renowned for their excellent stories, so it makes sense that they would alter the plot, add some characters here and there, etc. but I would have thought it would be obvious to keep in the sand demons, as that is, apart from being the entire premise of the game's storyline, just undeniably cool. Not to mention it's one of those things that gives you free reign to have the hero waste a lot of baddies without any kind of moral issue: they are monsters, they aren't human, they will eat your face if you don't kill them first and technically they are already dead. Plus they could get away with a lot of impressive violence because they only bleed sand. A sinfully wasted opportunity, people.

One thing I will say I liked is that, although the actor wasn't really right for the part in my opinion, at least the character was still written as being fairly close to the character from the game: arrogant, obsessed with proving himself, convinced that he is always right, and the leading lady was written with the same sarcastic, feisty attitude she had in the game, although for some reason her name was changed to Tamina. What was wrong with the name Farah? She's obviously meant to be the same character, so why change her name? Who knows, or cares? So let's move on.

Overall I think the film would have been okay as a standalone film, supposing the Prince of Persia games didn't exist and this was the first take on the idea, but for a film that claims to be based on the Sands of Time game, I just don't see it. It has the characters (somewhat) and it has the mystical dagger, but that's about it. They changed the story of the prince trying to reach the hourglass to turn back time and undo essentially causing the apocalypse, to the story of the prince being framed for killing his father, then fleeing his home while trying to stop his traitorous uncle from going back in time to undo saving his father's life so that he would never have sons, so the uncle could assume the throne... is it just me or is this sounding like the Lion King with swords, time-travelling and wall-running? So that's just it: it could have been an excellent film, but instead it was a poorly-executed impersonation of the lion king. With magical swords. D- See me.

Everyone Already did Everything

When thinking of storylines, characters, possible plots for episodes and things of that nature, I'm sometimes frequently constantly met with the road block: it's been done. How many times have you thought of an idea, only to be immediately reminded that 'The Simpsons did it' or 'Friends did it'? Well, it happens to me a lot.

The truth is, anything you can think of has been done, even if we aren't aware of it. Whatever original idea I may have come up with, I can bet that someone, somewhere, in some far corner of the planet, has already thought of it. It doesn't necessarily mean I'm unoriginal, it just means that most everything has already been executed in at least one form of media.

Having come to terms with this fact, I don't let the 'it's been done' roadblock get in my way anymore. So what if an idea has already been done? You can always put a fresh spin on it. Even if that fresh spin has already been done, it will still be different in some way if you let it be. Don't let the fact that your idea isn't as original as you thought it was compromise your creativity.

If all else fails, you can always use an idea that has been used so many times, people would never expect anyone to touch it with a ten-foot pole, and claim that you are using it ironically.