About Me
- Hunting Violets (Resa Haile)
- Resa Haile is the co-editor of the anthology, Villains, Victims, and Violets: Agency and Feminism in the Original Sherlock Holmes Canon. She is also the author of several essays, including “Wynonna Earp, Supergirl and the Power of Choosing” (Fourth Wave Feminism on SciFi Fantasy TV); an examination of an unreliable confession that may unfairly malign Sarah Cushing in the Sherlock Holmes story, “The Cardboard Box” (About Sixty: Why Every Sherlock Holmes Story Is the Best); and a defense of Violet Hunter, the heroine of "The Copper Beeches" (The Baker Street Journal). Resa has also been published in NonBinary Review and The Proceedings of the Pondicherry Lodge, as well as the anthologies Sherlock Holmes Is Like and Sherlock Holmes Is Everywhere. She is putting the finishing touches on a comedy mystery novel set in a world somewhat like ours. She can draw with her right or her left hand and once won Sumiko Saulson’s Horror Haiku contest. Resa co-founded two Sherlockian societies, the Original Tree Worshippers of Rock County and the Studious Scarlets Society and is working on projects fictional and poetic.
Showing posts with label Cinema/Television. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cinema/Television. Show all posts
2012/04/05
Pro-Liu: Lucy Liu as Dr. Watson
My Facebook page supporting Lucy Liu being cast as Dr. Watson is up to 21 Likes. It has lots of links to other blogs with articles about race, gender, and, of course, Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Watson, and Lucy Liu.http://www.facebook.com/ProLiuLucyLiuAsDrWatson
Here are some links to interesting blog posts
(sometimes the comments section is really interesting too)
on the subject of Lucy Liu as Watson:
2011/12/25
Mary Hatch, the True Villain of
It's a Wonderful Life
by Resa Haile
First, of course, I acknowledge that It’s a Wonderful Life is a classic of American filmmaking, combining elements of screwball comedy, drama, and film noir (the Pottersville sequence). It is a beautiful film, a favorite of mine; I admit this. If you haven't seen this film (which is within the bounds of possibility), go and watch it. I’ll wait here.
Those who have seen the movie know how it ends: George Bailey finds that he really had a wonderful life because of what he has meant in the lives of others. In the uplifting final scene, what he has given to others comes back to him through an outpouring of love and support that saves him from imprisonment and scandal. It is, indeed, a wonderful ending.
In the course of the film, we are shown George’s life, and we are shown what the lives of others would have been if George had never been born, but we are never shown a third possibility. We never see what life would have been like if George had succeeded in “shakin’ the dust of this crummy little town off [his] feet and see[ing] the world.” Perhaps if George’s father had not had that stroke—or if Potter had—or both. What might George’s life have been then?
It’s a Wonderful Life is a comedy and a tragedy. In the classical definitions of these terms, comedy means the hero wins and tragedy means the hero loses. In the traditional view of It’s a Wonderful Life, George Bailey is the hero and Mr. Potter the villain. George Bailey wins in the end because he realizes how wonderful his life truly is.
But let us look at the picture in another way, shift the angle, change the lighting. George Bailey never got to do any of the things he dreamed of doing his entire life. Why? Because of Mary Hatch (later Bailey). Mary, like the couple in the story, “The Monkey’s Paw,” is an example of what happens when we are not careful what we wish for. She is the catalyst for all the bad things that happen to the man she loves.
It is in the scene outside the old Granville house (which George says he wouldn’t live in “as a ghost”) that he makes his speech about “shakin’ the dust of this crummy old town” off his feet. He explains to Mary about breaking the glass (the windows of the house, its eyes, representative of the soul) and making a wish. George makes his hatful of wishes, about leaving town, building things, an extension of the dreams he has had since he was a boy, dreams with which we know Mary is familiar.
A look of determination appears on her face, and Mary suddenly breaks a window of the old house, making her wish, the wish that sets the stage for everything that happens afterwards. Mary wishes that George’s wish does not come true, that he stays in town. This wish traps George in Bedford Falls. It is only a short time after this that George’s friends come to tell him that his father has had a stroke, keeping him from leaving for college.
From the moment of Mary’s wish on, whenever George is close to leaving Bedford Falls
It is his remaining in Bedford Falls
2011/10/29
An Irregular Guide to the Horror Film
by Resa Haile
Around Halloween, it can be fun to have your own mini-Horror Fest, featuring some old favorites, along with movies you haven’t seen before.
Among horror fans, there is a wide range of taste. Some of the newer horror films have been dubbed “torture porn,” as they seem more concerned with vicarious enjoyment of the extended and graphic suffering of the characters than with thrills and chills. Horror, like many genre terms, is fairly elastic, encompassing psychological terror (Rosemary’s Baby, The Innocents); the horror comedy (Theatre of Blood, Buffy the Vampire Slayer—the series); the ghost story (The Haunting, The Uninvited); the slasher flick (Halloween, Scream); the m
onster movie (The Creature from the Black Lagoon, An American Werewolf in London
onster movie (The Creature from the Black Lagoon, An American Werewolf in
While some horror fans may love them all, many fans of old horror movies are not going to warm to torture porn, and many may even have a problem with the Friday the 13th and Halloween movies. Conversely, fans of more graphic horror films may find the old Universal horror films to be “creaky.”
One snowy night last winter, I settled down to watch the old Universal version of Dracula (1931) starring Bela Lugosi, and featuring a score by avant-garde composer Philip Glass. The modern score added something to the atmosphere of the movie, as did the howling wind outside. Many people would not be able to watch this version of Dracula seriously—they would find the black-and-white cinematography off-putting, the style of acting artificial, the special effects not special enough. Yet all of these things add to the atmosphere if you allow them to cast their spell. Lugosi in Dracula has the role of his lifetime, “living” in his spooky old castle (there appear to be armadillos in the castle, or are they supposed to be rats?), not drinking…wine, listening to the music of the “children of the night.” The movie also contains the memorable, and often-parodied, web sequence.
The sequel, Dracula’s Daughter (1936), begins moments after the ending of Dracula and features Gloria Holden as the Countess Zaleska, trying to escape her family’s curse. It is also a memorable old-school horror film, even without being graced by a new Philip Glass score.
The original version of Cat People (1942) is probably the most famous film to feature French import Simone Simon. She has the lead role as Irena, a woman who believes if she has intimate relations with her husband, she will turn into a panther. One of the truest examples of psychological horror, since it is never clear whether her affliction is what she believes it to be or if she suffers from a delusion.
The sequel, Curse of the Cat People (1944), has little to do with the original story, and is not really a horror movie at all (although it is very charming). In the remake of Cat People (1982), starring the German actress Nastassja Kinski, there is no such ambiguity about the heroine’s affliction. I also found this to be a very interesting movie. (It may be of interest to trivia buffs that Klaus Kinski, Nastassja’s father, starred in the remake of the silent vampire film, Nosferatu.)
In the film Fright Night (1985), Roddy McDowall had one of his best roles as Peter Vincent, a former horror star whose glory days are past. The character’s name is a tip of the hat to horror movie legends Vincent Price and Peter Cushing. Cushing is particularly to the point since, as the tireless Professor Van Helsing, he chased and killed Christopher Lee’s Dracula in many a Hammer horror film.
In Fright Night, the hero, Charlie (William Ragsdale), believes a vampire has moved in next door to him. His friends, who think he is having mental problems, convince him to enlist the aid of Peter Vincent, now the host of a local late-night horror show, Fright Night. Peter agrees—for a price—to help them convince Charlie that he is wrong. The moment when Vincent realizes Charlie is not wrong is one of my favorites in the movies.
There is a sequel, Fright Night II (1988), which also has much to recommend it. Charlie’s insistence to his college girlfriend about the greatness of Bram Stoker’s most famous book, and the results of that argument are priceless. In the sequel, as often seems to happen, the ick factor gets an upgrade.
So, as you light the jack o’ lantern, lock the doors securely, and microwave the popcorn (or perhaps use JiffyPop, as Drew Barrymore did in Scream—er, well, maybe not…), turn the lights down low, get settled in, and just remember:
It’s only a movie.
2010/09/20
Sweeney Todd
Movie Review by Resa Haile
I remember actors from the Broadway production of Sweeney Todd on talk shows, singing songs (most memorably Len Cariou’s version of “Not While I’m Around”) from the show. As an admirer of both Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter, I was curious about the film version. I have to say, though, the subject matter—spoiler alert here for those who don’t know—left me feeling a little trepidation, a little queasiness, if you will.
A friend of mine and I, after considering various movies to see over the Christmas break, took the leap and went to see Sweeney Todd. Although I personally have seen slasher flicks with less blood, fans of the current genre of torture porn (which, sadly, passes for horror now), may find the film a bit tame.
The plot concerns a wronged man, a barber, who returns from years of exile and imprisonment in order to seek his revenge. In the process of doing so, he meets and throws in his lot with Mrs. Lovett, maker of the “worst pies in London,” a woman as mad as he is himself. As Mrs. Lovett, Helena Bonham Carter is a bedraggled porcelain doll with the largest eyes imaginable, and she and Johnny Depp make the perfect Goth couple. Or they would, if Sweeney Todd could forget to glower long enough to notice her exisstence.
The movie is almost a study in black and white (with frantic splashes of crimson, of course), but the most memorable segment for me is a candy-coloured fantasy Mrs. Lovett has about the perfect life she and Sweeney Todd could have together. Even in her own fantasy, she cannot manage to make him smile.
Fans of the Harry Potter movies may be pleased to see some familiar actors here. In addition to Bonham Carter, there is, for instance, Alan Rickman, he of the leonine face and the voice that drips honey. Rickman, who plays Sweeney Todd’s nemesis, is known to many moviegoers as Professor Snape. There should be none of the Snape-ish debates over his character here, however: He is a bad man.
It is true that I found it hard to have much sympathy for the title character, who goes from a man on a mission for vengeance to a killer of innocents for profit. (I also confess to having to go to the lobby for a bit while the cast sang about “the best pies in London”—queasy again.) The story, nonetheless, is operatic in its tragedy, and the ending is sort of perfect, with the blood of innocent and guilty flowing together in the kind of tableau of human foolishness that might make a nice addition to Madame Tussaud’s.
Afterwards, surprisingly, my friend and I went out and had some pie. But it wasn’t meat pie, so that was all right.
I remember actors from the Broadway production of Sweeney Todd on talk shows, singing songs (most memorably Len Cariou’s version of “Not While I’m Around”) from the show. As an admirer of both Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter, I was curious about the film version. I have to say, though, the subject matter—spoiler alert here for those who don’t know—left me feeling a little trepidation, a little queasiness, if you will.
A friend of mine and I, after considering various movies to see over the Christmas break, took the leap and went to see Sweeney Todd. Although I personally have seen slasher flicks with less blood, fans of the current genre of torture porn (which, sadly, passes for horror now), may find the film a bit tame.
The plot concerns a wronged man, a barber, who returns from years of exile and imprisonment in order to seek his revenge. In the process of doing so, he meets and throws in his lot with Mrs. Lovett, maker of the “worst pies in London,” a woman as mad as he is himself. As Mrs. Lovett, Helena Bonham Carter is a bedraggled porcelain doll with the largest eyes imaginable, and she and Johnny Depp make the perfect Goth couple. Or they would, if Sweeney Todd could forget to glower long enough to notice her exisstence.
The movie is almost a study in black and white (with frantic splashes of crimson, of course), but the most memorable segment for me is a candy-coloured fantasy Mrs. Lovett has about the perfect life she and Sweeney Todd could have together. Even in her own fantasy, she cannot manage to make him smile.
Fans of the Harry Potter movies may be pleased to see some familiar actors here. In addition to Bonham Carter, there is, for instance, Alan Rickman, he of the leonine face and the voice that drips honey. Rickman, who plays Sweeney Todd’s nemesis, is known to many moviegoers as Professor Snape. There should be none of the Snape-ish debates over his character here, however: He is a bad man.
It is true that I found it hard to have much sympathy for the title character, who goes from a man on a mission for vengeance to a killer of innocents for profit. (I also confess to having to go to the lobby for a bit while the cast sang about “the best pies in London”—queasy again.) The story, nonetheless, is operatic in its tragedy, and the ending is sort of perfect, with the blood of innocent and guilty flowing together in the kind of tableau of human foolishness that might make a nice addition to Madame Tussaud’s.
Afterwards, surprisingly, my friend and I went out and had some pie. But it wasn’t meat pie, so that was all right.
2010/08/28
Pushing Daisies Blossoms
Series Review by Resa Haile
Pushing Daisies premiered in the fall 2007 television season to critical buzz and moderately-good ratings. The writers’ strike caused the series’ first season to be very short, and the second season had only thirteen episodes shot before cancellation. It is available on DVD.
This series was different from anything else on television. Narrated by Jim Dale, frequent Broadway star and well known as the reader of the Harry Potter audio books in the U.S. (On a side note, he also starred in the all-but-forgotten Digby The Biggest Dog in the World, and Digby is the name of the dog on Pushing Daisies as well.) The narration allows the audience to know when the regular characters are saying what they mean—and when they aren’t. It also provides wry commentary and gives the audience backstory and additional information.
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| Artwork by Resa Haile |
Narrator: At that moment, the Piemaker felt a mixture of happiness and trepidation.
Ned (the Piemaker): Why is it always a mixture?
Pushing Daisies is the story of Ned, also known as the Piemaker, who has a special gift, or, possibly, curse. Ned has the ability to raise the dead with his touch.
There are certain rules that go along with Ned’s ability. If he touches the resurrected again, that touch is permanent death. If he doesn’t touch the resurrected again within one minute, the price of another death is extracted.
When Ned was a boy, he brought his mother back to life, causing the death of the next-door neighbor, father of Charlotte “Chuck” Charles, the girl he loved. (Some fans of the show have theorized Ned’s last name is Edwards, so that he would be Edward Edwards, a nice match-up with Charlotte Charles.) Of course, since Ned hadn’t yet figured out any of these rules, his mother was soon gone again as well. The dog Ned had as a child is still with him, but Ned can’t pet him. This leads to some funny scenes with Ned remote-petting Digby and other such devices.
Ned (Lee Pace) learns that his touch has a huge effect on the flavor of fruit (I can’t help but wonder if fruit or plants are dying mysteriously somewhere nearby) and becomes a maker of pies. Eventually, he opens a shop called “The Pie Hole,” which is shaped like a pie. He lives in an apartment above, and his waitress, Olive Snook (Broadway baby Kristen Chenoweth, whose wicked singing skills are sometimes put to good use in the series), lives in the apartment next to his. She nurses a crush on Ned, although he tries to avoid touching people.
Private eye Emerson Cod (Chi McBride) discovers Ned’s secret and uses him to revive murder victims in order to solve the crimes. Although the interrogations include a lot of dialogue, I did time one, and the victim was returned to the state of death in under the minute required.
One such victim, however, turns out to be Ned’s childhood love, Chuck (Anna Friel), and he cannot bring himself to touch her the second time. She becomes part of the investigation of her own murder, and part of the detective team, which later grows to include Olive.
A suspect with a heightened olfactory sense refers to Chuck, poetically, as a “girl smelling of honey and death.” Chuck wears unusual but often charming outfits that sometimes hearken back to 1930s movie heroines and sometimes channel Audrey Hepburn by way of Emma Peel. Everybody gets into the act when kooky and colourful undercover costumes are called for.
Chuck must keep her re-life a secret from her aunts (played by Swoosie Kurtz, with eye patch, and Ellen Greene, of Little Shop of Horrors fame, who also gets to sing), who raised her. Ned and Chuck love each other, but can never touch, thus solving the television quandary of keeping a couple from getting together without making one or both of the people involved seem like total jerks.
Chuck and Ned are probably more together than most television couples who can touch, making creative use of plastic wrap and beekeeping outfits. Some of the cases include a dim sum restaurant that runs illegal gambling using food instead of cards for its poker game, the murder of a bigamist, a disappearing act with a killer ending, and pop-up books (Emerson Cod ends up taking a break from his hobby of knitting to create one).
Emerson’s sarcasm makes a nice counterpoint to the sweetness of Chuck and Ned, and, if I sometimes find myself wishing Olive’s love for Ned could be requited, there seem to be several possible secondary candidates to win her heart. Besides, her burgeoning friendship with Chuck is entertaining.
The show is a brightly-colored film noir screwball comedy whodunit fable, with beautiful fairy tale set design and smart, witty writing and acting. The final episode tries too hard to pull all of the loose ends together, making me want to delete the last few minutes and write my own ending, but the series is wonderful overall.
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