![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
juushikaStonehearst Asylum/Eliza Graves, film, 2014, dir. Brad Anderson
There's so much going on here, all of it about halfways successful. The movie can never decide if it's horror, romance, satire, or just an excuse for Gothic extravagance, so is all of those things without total success—it has a fantastic aesthetic, but the tone often contradicts itself. But I'm surprised how watchable this is as an asylum movie—it's a narrative that makes me nervous, but the "inmates take over the aslyum" premise means that representations of institutionalized violence are limited in scope and cast as overtly problematic; that said, the implied farce of the inmates in control is its own microaggression; that said, the narrative affords them a surprising amountof respect, despite the occasional condescension. Eliza is well developed, and her gendered condition treated with the respect—which the obligatory romance and "cure" undermine. It's complicated! The plot's fine, the aesthetic is great, the tone is inconsistent—but it's the themes at play which I find myself remembering.
The Silenced (Gyeongseong School: Disappeared Girls), film, 2015, dir. Lee Hae-young
This makes a tonal shift in the second half, from gothic mystery to action thriller; I appreciate the first half more, but to my surprise the shift didn't lose me—largely because the writing remains solid, no dumb twists, just foreshadowing carried through. This is visually superb, so beautiful with such luscious imagery; I love the themes, the female intimacies (this movie has one (1) male character, bless), and the exploration of sick bodies, revenge/cure fantasies, and the social manipulation of women. This is a quiet gem, and I want more people to watch it.
Tumblr posts: visuals; women and illness narratives, this last copied below for safekeeping.
Juu's Favorite Tropes/Subgenes So Obscure There's No Name for Them #53 is this amorphous and piecemeal mess of:
physical or mental illness in women as an exploration of women's bodies and autonomy; a flawed "cure" (engaging escapist fantasies and recognizing that chronic conditions can rarely be cured); revenge against those that used women's illnesses and bodies to control them (because revenge fantasies are cathartic) that have sad resolutions for the protagonist (to recognize that conditions are chronic/intuitions that exploit them persist).
It actually isn't that specific: The Silenced follows it to a T; it's the plot of Sucker Punch and a lot of asylumpunk (#348) follows this narrative. In fact, it shares the same function as asylumpunk: representing issues of illness and female bodies; transforming it to reclaim it—in asylumpunk, via romanticization; here, as a power fantasy. I value it for both parts, the representation and catharsis.
This is why The Silenced didn't lose me when it slipped into thriller/super solider territory—because the violence against the institution really is cathartic; because seeing proof of the female victims is validating. (Also because the foreshadowing becomes obvious in retrospect—it's not a twist so much as a reveal, pretty well written.) The film isn't Flawless Representation in this respect, and that's fine—this is a narrative to appreciate piecemeal, shreds of trope here, accidental power fantasy there.
(This also isn't the only narrative at play in The Silenced; the political/imperial themes are probably way more intentional.)
Penny Dreadful, complete series, 2014-2016
I am so conflicted! This is an aesthetic treat, and the way it engages gothic genre and penny dreadful reiteration of urban fables is compelling; there's some solid casting and the dialog is fantastic—and Eva Green steals the show with the depth of her affect and the way she epitomizes the show's aesthetic. But the plotting goes south midway through season 2, growing messier and more predictable (especially in character deaths and villain motivations, see: killing minority groups, vilifying female power), and the end—both the focus on Ethan in s3, and Vanessa's death—are especially flat. There's fantastic tropes at play here (especially the found family dynamic) and some truly phenomenal episodes (especially the flashbacks); I'm surprised how effectively and respectfully it elides trauma, mental illness, and speculative elements. But it comes out to be a bit of a mess, and not inevitability: the overarching plotting could've been better.
Supernatural, season 11, 2015-2016
The big bad of this season wildly overreaches while managing to remain entirely predictable—I don't know how the show could ever have pulled off a big-G God arc, and it shouldn't have tried; Amara's character arc is simplistic and her imagery underwhelming. Yet, somehow, this season has some of my favorite stand-alones, chief among them 11.4 "Baby," a Impala PoV about the daily grind of hunting which is everything I love of this show; I also adored the return of Lucifer, and Misha Collin's acting; and Enemy Mine of the last few episodes; and developments in the Sam/Dean dynamic. Supernatural is always inconsistent, but this was an unusual inconsistency: the small and personal parts of this work beautifully while the overarching plot spirals, forgotten, into the sun.
There's so much going on here, all of it about halfways successful. The movie can never decide if it's horror, romance, satire, or just an excuse for Gothic extravagance, so is all of those things without total success—it has a fantastic aesthetic, but the tone often contradicts itself. But I'm surprised how watchable this is as an asylum movie—it's a narrative that makes me nervous, but the "inmates take over the aslyum" premise means that representations of institutionalized violence are limited in scope and cast as overtly problematic; that said, the implied farce of the inmates in control is its own microaggression; that said, the narrative affords them a surprising amountof respect, despite the occasional condescension. Eliza is well developed, and her gendered condition treated with the respect—which the obligatory romance and "cure" undermine. It's complicated! The plot's fine, the aesthetic is great, the tone is inconsistent—but it's the themes at play which I find myself remembering.
The Silenced (Gyeongseong School: Disappeared Girls), film, 2015, dir. Lee Hae-young
This makes a tonal shift in the second half, from gothic mystery to action thriller; I appreciate the first half more, but to my surprise the shift didn't lose me—largely because the writing remains solid, no dumb twists, just foreshadowing carried through. This is visually superb, so beautiful with such luscious imagery; I love the themes, the female intimacies (this movie has one (1) male character, bless), and the exploration of sick bodies, revenge/cure fantasies, and the social manipulation of women. This is a quiet gem, and I want more people to watch it.
Tumblr posts: visuals; women and illness narratives, this last copied below for safekeeping.
Juu's Favorite Tropes/Subgenes So Obscure There's No Name for Them #53 is this amorphous and piecemeal mess of:
physical or mental illness in women as an exploration of women's bodies and autonomy; a flawed "cure" (engaging escapist fantasies and recognizing that chronic conditions can rarely be cured); revenge against those that used women's illnesses and bodies to control them (because revenge fantasies are cathartic) that have sad resolutions for the protagonist (to recognize that conditions are chronic/intuitions that exploit them persist).
It actually isn't that specific: The Silenced follows it to a T; it's the plot of Sucker Punch and a lot of asylumpunk (#348) follows this narrative. In fact, it shares the same function as asylumpunk: representing issues of illness and female bodies; transforming it to reclaim it—in asylumpunk, via romanticization; here, as a power fantasy. I value it for both parts, the representation and catharsis.
This is why The Silenced didn't lose me when it slipped into thriller/super solider territory—because the violence against the institution really is cathartic; because seeing proof of the female victims is validating. (Also because the foreshadowing becomes obvious in retrospect—it's not a twist so much as a reveal, pretty well written.) The film isn't Flawless Representation in this respect, and that's fine—this is a narrative to appreciate piecemeal, shreds of trope here, accidental power fantasy there.
(This also isn't the only narrative at play in The Silenced; the political/imperial themes are probably way more intentional.)
Penny Dreadful, complete series, 2014-2016
I am so conflicted! This is an aesthetic treat, and the way it engages gothic genre and penny dreadful reiteration of urban fables is compelling; there's some solid casting and the dialog is fantastic—and Eva Green steals the show with the depth of her affect and the way she epitomizes the show's aesthetic. But the plotting goes south midway through season 2, growing messier and more predictable (especially in character deaths and villain motivations, see: killing minority groups, vilifying female power), and the end—both the focus on Ethan in s3, and Vanessa's death—are especially flat. There's fantastic tropes at play here (especially the found family dynamic) and some truly phenomenal episodes (especially the flashbacks); I'm surprised how effectively and respectfully it elides trauma, mental illness, and speculative elements. But it comes out to be a bit of a mess, and not inevitability: the overarching plotting could've been better.
Supernatural, season 11, 2015-2016
The big bad of this season wildly overreaches while managing to remain entirely predictable—I don't know how the show could ever have pulled off a big-G God arc, and it shouldn't have tried; Amara's character arc is simplistic and her imagery underwhelming. Yet, somehow, this season has some of my favorite stand-alones, chief among them 11.4 "Baby," a Impala PoV about the daily grind of hunting which is everything I love of this show; I also adored the return of Lucifer, and Misha Collin's acting; and Enemy Mine of the last few episodes; and developments in the Sam/Dean dynamic. Supernatural is always inconsistent, but this was an unusual inconsistency: the small and personal parts of this work beautifully while the overarching plot spirals, forgotten, into the sun.
