Stumbled onto Pre-Christmas London

This is sort of my rendition of Fairytale in New York, where the music is beautiful and jolly but the content is complaints. My rendition has even gone one step further and dropped the music. My first and main complaint is with myself, realising that it has been one and a half months since I have written anything that brings a smirk to my face and hopefully a smirk to other people’s faces. Occasionally. This was the year I planned to write a post once per week, and I did for a while, but then I began watching Jesse Pinkman work a bit harder on meth production and working a bit harder on PhD production myself. You can always find motivation in pop culture.

Other than that though, I have been finding myself grumpier and grumpier this Christmas season which does not tend to be the case. Usually the lights and decorations lift my mood right up and I greet London’s freezing temperatures like an old friend, one that brings gifts of coughs and mucus and sometimes light fever. But this year I find myself navigating towards those that curse the cold and rue the day they will have to go to Winter Wonderland with its overload of tourists. Is it that I haven’t had much mulled wine? Is it that my environmental consciousness is flagging up those cute lights as potential threat to my Greta Thunberg-less newsfeed? Is it that I forgot to go on a diet prior to the holidays as a pre-emptive measure and now I am way above my safety weight? Is it that I visited Bond Street on a Saturday afternoon and it took me two hours to return home on a crowded bus? Let’s examine them one by one and see which of these reasons is to blame.

First of all, mulled wine is life. It is everything that’s good. Tea is good because it’s warm. Wine is good because it’s alcohol. Mulled wine is the best! I would even argue it is therefore good both for the throat and for the soul. It is widely available and appeals to almost everyone because of all that sugar. But this year I haven’t come across it as much as I would like. It feels like every time I start my evening aiming to drink a cup of £6 mulled wine I end up drinking shitty white wine instead. It’s a curious thing. But my stingy side has a good argument; mulled wine is essentially the shittiest red wine combined with a bunch of herbs and sugar and mulled wine cups are tiny. Whereas shitty white wine is cheaper and frankly, a lot less fattening. A lot less tasty too, but anyway. But apart from said stinginess, I think it took them longer to get mulled wine out on the streets. I feel like the past couple of years you could get from middle of November onwards. I am aware that I am talking about mulled wine as if it is meth, but I have been watching a lot of Breaking Bad. This is the moment I will admit that I probably misled a lot of people with this post. Because I genuinely like that in London, Christmas lasts for two months almost. That is not my beef with Christmas. I do mind that the food and drink were delayed this year. If I have to listen to ‘Baby, it’s cold outside’ five times a day I deserve some mulled wine and mince pies to go with it.

Secondly, as much as the term environmental consciousness is something of a joke when spoken by a non-vegan, conventional cotton bud user, we have enough triggers to take a look around and realise that Christmas decorations with LED screens are probably not necessary. I read an article the other day that talked about how the now traditional ugly Christmas sweaters are bad for plastic consumption. While my initial reaction was ‘but they’re so cute’, I quickly realised that, yes, they are most likely bought from Primark and possibly thrown away or lost because who cares about a five pound sweater you will not wear for another year? The lack of environmental awareness is everywhere! The gift wrap, the unnecessary plastic on gift sets, the millions of decorations! Christmas carols will surely release more CO₂ than cow shit! It’s the LED screens that really got me though, especially considering they look like ugly versions of WALL-E.

Thirdly, the dieting issue is real. Last year, I was the spokesperson for pre-Christmas fitness dedication. I signed up to a gym, went regularly and ate healthy. I then returned to Greece for the holidays and let all hell break loose. This year I found out KFC is the best taste a chicken can have and that Uber eats almost always has a voucher for free delivery. Needless to say that these news along with my eternal love for Domino’s have made dieting a long-lost memory. I have been supposedly intermittently fasting for more than a month now and I have had more exceptive than included meals since. And you know what? Exceptions always taste much better.

My last and most probable cause for disliking this time of year is the amount of people that has quadrupled within a week. End of November, things were calm and festive, but the moment we entered December this world got mad. I am assuming it is the Christmas shopping; maybe people do not know of Amazon Prime yet or still prefer going to stores to buy things for other people. I don’t get it, but I do accept it. Maybe some of them appreciate the LED screen decorations I previously bad-mouthed. Regardless, their joy brings me no pleasure. My first attempt to go home from the admittedly central Bond Street was the tube; it wasn’t just the train that was packed, nor the platform. The whole station looked immobilised! I quickly decided that while I may not suffer from asthma, I would be risking my lungs were I to board that train. My second attempt was the bus. Now, that was a thought-out plan as, to the best of my then knowledge, only us true Londoners appreciate the bus above and beyond its underground alternative. Thought-out it may have been if it was not 2019. I was betrayed by my very best friend; the internet. Tourists were fully aware that they could get the bus to Hyde Park or back to their hotel, rather than endure the tube sweat that I also rejected. What they didn’t know was that by joining us bus-lovers they simply transferred that hectic tube atmosphere to the slower-moving bus. It took me about half an hour to actually get on a bus and about forty minutes of complete and utter stillness I got off the bus a couple of meters down the road and began walking. The horror. I will always remember that exasperation, the heat, the smell of sweat, the drunk lady having a full-blown conversation with the bus driver in ALL CAPS, but you know, the verbal version. Walking home for another forty odd minutes was the best decision I have made in a while. The cold suddenly felt like a breeze, the weed smelled like perfume. I even began appreciating those awful decorations.

After close examination, I have concluded that I am to blame. Mulled wine is readily available, environmental consciousness has many ways to be dealt with that I refuse to undertake (cheese is life), I could just take my diet more seriously (but again, cheese is life) and I could have just avoided central London during the holidays at all costs! Nonetheless, this is my way of spreading love to similarly minded curmudgeons by spreading hate about the holidays. It is a new, untested technique but I am confident it will work.

Stumbled onto Psychedelic Zumba

Since I am trying to add a bit of exercise to my cheese-eating day, I have found Zumba to be a pleasant alternative to running on the treadmill with the aircon aiming right at the back of my neck. Zumba is great. I mean, I almost always look silly doing it, I almost always sound like a broken boiler and almost always sweat as if that previously rejected aircon would suddenly be godsend. I rarely mind the silliness, as a quick look around will remind me that it is not just me and everyone looks like a clumsy kangaroo trapped in an human's body. Everyone is clapping along and sometimes shouts a few war cries just to get in the mood. It’s fun and it resembles dancing, especially when the instructors assume you know how to Samba. Guys, we don’t know how to Samba.

Zumba is so successful that there are songs that were written specifically for that purpose. And you can tell because the word ‘Zumba’ is heavily featured as well as numerous motivational phrases such ‘Put your hands up, burning with desire, shake that bum bum, and light that fire’. I particularly appreciate the pretence that it is not a song about Zumba by throwing the word ‘desire’ into the mix. I even have a theory that some genuine pop songs were written with Zumba in mind; they are a very good fit for Zumba and a very bad fit for anything else. I have accepted the playlists and the basic moves that get recycled and re-arranged into a choreography. But have you heard of psychedelic Zumba?

It is not an actual term, but it should be so people would know to avoid it. It is essentially what you get when you combine Zumba with an instructor who forgot to take drugs, but remembers what if feels like. One of the instructors we had over the summer, while our regular instructor was on holiday, definitely fits into this category. I should have known the moment she introduced herself. First of all, she was overly friendly and smiley; clear signs of MDMA. Secondly, she spoke of a two-day Zumba festival somewhere remote in London. There is nowhere remote in London. Also, there is no two-day Zumba festival. Or if there is, there shouldn’t be. But her friendliness and positivity initially confused me and I stayed for the class. The Zumba songs were worse than usual. They usually have a Latin, maybe light RnB feel to them; these once were straight psychedelic or rave or the kind of music that hurts in a very specific spot in the middle of your forehead. And in case some fans of this cacophony begin to think this is starting to sound good, let me point out that the silly Zumba lyrics are still very much present and they have somehow gotten sillier. I am talking ‘Zumba, Zumba, zu-zu-zu-zu-zu-zumba’. The instructor had clearly hand-picked the music, as she had closed her eyes and sort of moved with the flow. There was no pattern for us to follow, most of us stood still and maybe occasionally put a hand up when we briefly thought we grasped a choreography out of her, but she wouldn’t have known because, as I said, she had her eyes closed and was in a completely different dimension. Three people left during that class, and that is three out of eight. And I swear she never saw them leave and maybe didn’t even realise they were gone when the class ended. I, however, having stayed in England for longer than I should have, decided it was better to waste an attempt for a healthy lifestyle, rather than be impolite and go do a bit of running.

But, coming back from my holiday in Greece, I acquired a better mindset. Because believe it or not, the instructor who lost 37% of her class was permanently hired. And believe it or not I walked into her class once again. And this time there were only three of us. Well, two after I took off.

I am not proud. I tried to be nice about it and fake an ankle injury, but again, she had her eyes closed forever! So I just took off. And if this sounds like I felt guilty after, or I still do, or I am writing this blog hoping someone will tell me what I did wasn’t horrible and in no way will lead to her being fired, I am not. But, you know, I won’t complain if that  sort of reassurance comes up J

Stumbled onto the Joker

Two nights ago, on a Wednesday, two friends and I set out to finally see the Joker, this anticipated film about the most famous villain in DC, if not all comic books pre-MCU. The movie had already been in cinemas for two weeks, so we started about our day thinking we could just show up to the cinema and get tickets on the spot, considering, as I mentioned before, it was a Wednesday. I have never been more thankful for my anxious personality that insisted we book tickets instead. The screening was sold out. I repeat, on a Wednesday, two weeks after the premiere. It is obvious we weren’t the only ones curious about what the director of ‘Hangover’ (I don’t remember his name and don’t even have the decency to Google it) would do with this psychopath of a clown.

Now that I have set a premise for how popular this movie has been, as if that were even necessary, I think it is only fair that I also set a premise for my set of mind before watching it. I want to make it clear that I did not mind the attempt to give the Joker an origin story. I know there are some hardcore fans that love the ambiguity, but I think we can all just deal with this as one of the zillion versions all characters have in the superhero genre anyways. I was excited, but with movies like these I always fear that the Oscar-baitidness will annoy me. Then I read that while reviews had started off great, the movie gradually lost its ‘fresh’ certification on Rotten Tomatoes. Then I read one of those rotten reviewers calling it juvenile. Then I read a Facebook post from a fellow Psychology enthusiast arguing that the way mental illness is portrayed is vague. So I went in with the following mindset; Joaquin Phoenix will be amazing, but this will ultimately be a superficial movie posing as a deep look into the Joker’s psyche. I want to be clear about my predisposition because I want to be honest about the chance that I was biased. I mean, I definitely was, I did leave the movie theatre thinking these exact comments.

It is not a superhero movie, which was made clear from the get go. There are no acrobatics, no antagonists, no Joss Whedon jokes. And that is absolutely fine. But there was also no Joker. That wasn’t the Joker, it was some other psychotic clown. There has been a substantial increase in psychotic clowns, I have noticed. I think Burger King is making a move on McDonalds. The joker is confident, proud, unemotional and most of all, a genius. He is Batman’s arch nemesis. And while this is an origin story and therefore he might not yet be confident and unemotional, he should have at least been smart. You know, smart enough to notice a glass door. There were two scenes I can remember that had anything to do with the real Joker and they were probably my two favourite ones. Unfortunately, I am one of those few whiners that think that by naming a movie ‘the Joker’ there are some necessary elements of that character you need to include. Otherwise this is not a psychological profile of the Joker, and it is a lie to promote it as such. I wouldn’t have gone to watch the psychological profile of a random murderer. I haven’t even watched Mindhunter.

If I at least try to disengage from these expectations for a paragraph (maximum), I am still not satisfied with how they dealt with the Joker’s character. First of all, what were those multiple mental illnesses that he suffered from? It is 2019, ‘crazy’ is not a sufficient medical term, not when you are trying to make a realistic, dark movie anyway. Also, while I appreciate leaving a couple of things vague for the viewer, if all we have is the character (because this was definitely not a plot-driven movie), I don’t think those supposedly essential elements can be left vague. I think the very origins that this movie claims to examine were ill-defined. Is the Joker a societal by-product? If so, is it the decaying empathy that drove him to madness? Is it that lack of governmental support? Is he traumatised? Is he vengeful? Is he apathic? It can be a nature-and-nurture thing, but it wasn’t treated as such. The character repeatedly said he wasn’t interested in the politics of it all, but the movie ends with him taking a bow in front of his supporters. And someone really needed to decide if this is the ‘Killing Joke’s joker that lost everything, decided life is a meaningless chaos and found that hilarious or whether it is a vengeful, bitter vigilante. He can’t be both. Like his neurological condition with the uncontrollable laughter. This was a great idea and beautifully executed by Phoenix. But what was it then? Was it an ill-wired neurological response? Because that is what it initially seemed like. But then again, we are frequently reminded that he finds the meaningless of it all hilarious. So which is it?

And now that the supposedly disengaged paragraph is over, it is not possible to ignore Heath Ledger’s Joker and avoid the comparison. Part of me is happy that the Joker from ‘The Dark Knight’ remains the best cinematic adaptation, according to my royal highness, because I of how unexpected it was. I think the precise reason that this Joker didn’t overtake that Joker is they tried too hard and ended up losing the Joker’s purpose. Lest we forget, that character was made for a reason. To beat Batman. To tackle the reasonable, ethical, methodical Batman with his ludicrous, careless chaos. Heath Ledger’s Joker dies in the end, but he has partly defeated Batman because his rhetoric was heard. His compelling rhetoric that almost resonates with the viewer. And that was accomplished in a movie with a plot, a superhero, acrobatics and Joss Whedon jokes in the form of Alfred. We are told this Joker’s rhetoric is deep and meaningful, but that is hard to believe as a viewer, because as Rotten Tomatoes critics said, it is a juvenile rhetoric.

It is nonetheless a beautiful movie and I did like it, but that wouldn't have made for a very compelling blogpost. Kudos to ‘Hangover’ guy and whatever comes Phoenex’s way for this performance is well deserved. I just think that this was not the movie to take down Marvel. The power of the MCU is how well the characters are thought out and how consistent they are, even though there are a thousand different things happening at the same time. Therefore, another post comes to an end, where I praise Marvel, diss DC and complain about how the villain’s descend into madness is not well-founded. I need to get out more.

Stumbled onto a cool person's Sunday

If you have read this blog before, you would have noticed that I frequently talk about how I am mostly introverted and always happy to play board games, eat and watch TV series (occasionally movies). This is all true. Which of course means I am not a capable drinker and probably should not practice the sport. Definitely should not practice the sport. Nonetheless, my housemate and best friend just returned and, in a way, made it her night’s mission to test my gin threshold the past weekend. And we had fun, the gin was good, the tonic too. The next day? Not so much. And, much in a Carrie Bradshaw fashion, this made me wonder. Why do people do this to themselves?

There are a couple of obvious answers. One, it is pleasant to be tipsy, which is why people begin drinking in the first place. Two, once people are tipsy they want to drink more and are no longer accountable for that decision. But I don’t think tipsiness can be fun enough to counteract how awful the next day is. Maybe tipsiness is too light an adjective for five generous gin and tonics and a negroni, but it wasn’t meant to be that many! It became that many because of tipsiness! All I am saying is tipsiness is to blame. Anyway, the next day was everything that’s bad; from a splitting headache, to a much-more-complicated-than-usual digestion, to an inexplicable exhaustion, to a very specific suspicion that you constantly demanded that the DJ plays a folky Greek song that admittedly did not fit anyone else’s mood.

Another thing that does not help, is being a hypochondriac. Another thing that does not help is being a hypochondriac that hasn’t drank that much since eighteen. Within a spectrum of five minutes I decided I would die, I would need a new liver, I would never drink again, I caught a cold, I got some sort of brain damage that results in swearing a lot, I would become paralysed and I caused my skin some irrevocable pimples because I didn’t take all of my make up off (I did take most off, which I am very proud of). And all these things? In that order! And all of them? Dealt as if they were of equal importance! Two days later, I realise I was obviously overreacting and if these were likely, nobody in England would live past the age of 21. Or have good skin.

After a considerate amount of whining to my housemate, who, by the way, was absolutely fine and did a tour of London on foot, I fell for a three-hour nap. And just when I thought that indicated some calmness and that the paranoia was over, I wake up in a shudder that I was sure was a heart attack. You know, those heart attacks that 25 year olds get in their sleep 15 hours after they drank alcohol. It did take me a couple of seconds to remember that I was dreaming of a very pleasant Super Mario game and realising that I probably just fell or was attacked by a Goomba.

I really don’t think it’s worth it. I mean, we had a great time, probably created some memories, I mean quite a few of them are now lost, as you may have guessed. But what if this experience means I will never be able to drink gin again? I won’t for a while; you are put off certain liquids once you have seen them so… processed. I don’t know if I am ready to give up gin, it is such a cool drink with such a low calorie count. And I am such a huge fan of cucumber water, and with gin I can have it concealed in a drink! This is what this whole blog is about, my fear of losing gin.

Anyways, some things I learned is that once your stomach has settled, bananas are good and ‘Five Guys’ burgers are even better. Will update on the gin situation.

Stumbled onto Malcom Gladwell’s ketchup conundrum

This is a good moment to talk about what this blog was supposed to be about. It was literally supposed to be a deep dive into useless things that I just stumbled on. Instead, I mostly complain and judge in the written form about whatever I very intentionally come across. This is, therefore, possibly the first post where I actually stumbled onto something and then read up on it for seven hours straight. I stumbled onto an ad for Malcom Gladwell’s new book ‘Talking with Strangers’ and decided I should throw a day away obsessing over which of his books to read, if any. Yes, I am that suggestible.

Malcolm Gladwell is a very famous Canadian journalist, who is primarily known for his work for the New Yorker. I know of the New Yorker, but it would be extremely pretentious of me to act as if I have been reading this sophisticated magazine that is mentioned in any TV series when trying to portray someone as an intellectual. I instead know of Malcolm Gladwell through his podcast, ‘Revisionist History’, ‘a podcast about things overlooked and misunderstood’, as the tagline reads. Podcasts probably don’t hold the same valour as a well-established, prestigious magazine but listening to this podcast makes me feel a tad more intellectual, just as the magazine would. So, mischief managed. Googling him was supposed to be a 20-30 minute thing, but instead I fell down a rabbit-hole and started reading, among other things, about mustard and ketchup.

Assuming you have not read the aforementioned New Yorker article from 2004, I will briefly explain what this article was about; why a new brand of mustard managed to overtake the old brand of mustard, whereas a new brand of ketchup could not overtake the old brand of ketchup. That’s it. And I am a mayo girl, imagine the hours I would spend if they talked about mayo. I would probably still be googling. But god knows that article was well-written. Character descriptions, some action (involving ketchup tasting mostly), some lessons about advertising, some stats, and a mention of evolutionary theory. Much like his podcast something that would have been overlooked, was captivating. So the sad thing, and the reason I mentioned my original intentions for this blog five years later, is that I initially had the audacity to think I could do something similar in my blog. Thankfully, I quickly realised I would be nowhere near as interesting. Gladwell is a gifted writer and that is why these stories work. Surprisingly, that is what most of his critics also go after him for.

This is what mostly took up my time. The realisation that I took this intelligent-sounding man at his word a bit more than I should have. Because he is a journalist from such a well-known and respected magazine, because he gets paid 40,000 dollars for a single talk and because he is an excellent story-teller. He is convincing and he makes things sound simple and reasonable and that is just what I want from a podcast. That and good sound editing; if it sounds like it was recorded next to a construction site on a distant microphone, it is too niche for me. And I am sure he does his research and that there is a lot of work behind each of his podcasts, let alone each of his books. He sometimes does sound one-sided and cherry-picking the evidence. But realising the extent was heart-breaking. One example regarded his statistics about poets and their high suicide rates. I didn’t feel the need to doubt it; it made sense, and it was attached to a number and therefore sounded scientific enough. And knowing me, I would be quick to cite this fact in my next conversation about poetry, which luckily is never. But someone way more critical than me went back and checked the source of this statistic and it was an outdated article, with an ambiguous definition of poets, based on a tiny sample. I don’t even have to explain why that is not a credible statistic. I just want to make it clear that this outdated article was the source of the source that Gladwell uses (and cites) so what I am describing is not deception. Instead, it just points out that someone who writes beautifully and/or does research to support his already-existing argument might not necessarily be right or reliable.

Don’t get me wrong, his podcast is still excellent; it makes you revisit and think about stuff that has happened or is happening in a different way. And to be fair, that is exactly what Gladwell claims to do; open up discussions. I am sure the books are worth the read and I will read them, I mean the first three were international best-sellers. I have to, because just as I might not have been critical enough and just took Gladwell at his word regarding ketchup consistency, I wouldn’t be critical if I simply took the critics at their word. Again, just to be clear, none of them had a problem with the mustard/ketchup article and it is very, very cool if you would like to read it (link below). I bring this particular article up because I find it immensely impressive that this topic was made that intriguing and I thought it was a good example of what good story-telling can do. I guess I went into this turmoil because this realisation was particularly hurtful to me for two reasons. First of all, I am supposedly doing research and need to be critical and it seems I wasn’t and that is scary. And second of all, Gladwell basically discusses a bunch of different topics, very intelligently but without extensive knowledge. So it worries me that I wanted to do the same, but without the intelligence. I think we are all much safer if I keep on writing love letters to the MCU.

I think the best way for me to enjoy his work from now on is as a trigger, to maybe think about something I wouldn’t have and maybe even look up a couple of things. And while this blog is far from comparable to any of Gladwell’s work, the best way to enjoy it is to look up for any pop-culture references, self-deprecating comments and attempts at a joke.

Gladwell, M. (2004). The Ketchup conundrum. The New Yorker, September issue: <https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2004/09/06/the-ketchup-conundrum>

Stumbled onto ‘Ramy’

As always, I will start with a relevant/irrelevant introduction. The Emmy’s, the subject of my last blog post, were on Sunday and the outcomes were unforeseen and mostly satisfactory. Fleabag was shown the love it deserves as the irrevocable fact that a woman can write the most hilarious and relatable show on TV right now if people simply get their heads out of their butts. Once again, I have my issues with Game of Thrones getting the ‘Best Drama Series’ award, seeing as its last season was disappointing at best. I would understand it as a farewell to an otherwise great series, had Veep won a single of its nominated categories on Sunday. You can probably sense the conflict I am facing; I am happy Phoebe Waller-Bridge, Fleabag, Alex Bornstein and Tony Shalhoub won in their respective categories, but baffled that Veep wasn’t shown the same preferential treatment as Game of Thrones. And even though the last season (and last couple of seasons) of Veep were significantly worse, they still did not reduce their characters’ development to ‘Mad person-Bad person’. And considering Veep characters are primarily caricatures of American politicians (or so I hope), that really says something.

Now that I have summed up my views on the Emmy’s, let me get back to what this blog is meant to be about. I wrote above that Fleabag was the most relatable show on TV. Seeing as Fleabag is a white, female character, it may not come as a shock that I found this relatable. However, the fact that I found a show about an Egyptian-American, Muslim man relatable, might be less obvious. And the fact that ‘Ramy’ was not nominated for any Emmy’s baffles me more than any of the above outcomes.

A friend of mine came across Ramy Youssef on ‘Late Night with Steven Colbert’ and found him hilarious, as he is, and decided we should watch his show that premiered on Hulu in April, ‘Ramy’. We are a bit late to the game, and obviously very late to complain about its lack of nominations, if anything, for the writing. So in recognition of my tardiness rather than complain, I will just remain baffled. Baffled is my favourite word right now and I must therefore include it a minimum of five times. Baffled. This show is about a young man navigating young adulthood trying to balance between being a deeply religious Muslim and a millennial. And while this exploration is fruitful enough to sustain a whole series, the show takes a moment to dive into the parallel experience of his sister, a young woman placed in a similar turmoil, and his immigrant mother. This is all done with great sensitivity, focusing on the individual in each case. And on top of that, it is an incredibly funny show.

I am a very shallow person and do not mind one-dimensional characters in my comedy-watching, as long as they are not given a one-dimensional love story to drive the show that I am supposed to care about (Big Bang Theory jab: check). But it was very refreshing to have a main character who tries to be a good Muslim, live up to his own expectations, messes up, feels guilty and tries again. And is hilarious. I won’t even try to talk about the critical acclaim of episodes such as ‘Strawberries’, where the events of 9/11 are experienced from the eyes of a pre-teen Ramy, not for how thought-provoking it was or its amazing comic reliefs (exemplar quote: ‘Jerk off on this leaf to show us you’re not a terrorist’). Others have made much better analyses. But something that struck me is that from the very first episode, the title character is called out for the preconceptions he himself has for Muslim women. As a viewer you are immediately made aware that this is not a male lead who will shed light to the whole Muslim experience, but rather another victim of stereotyping, which gives him room to grow as a character.

I also loved that towards the end of the season Ramy decides to visit Egypt, connect with his roots and strip himself of all this confusing American influence. And of course, he arrives and his extended family, who already lives in Egypt and is connected just fine with their roots, treat him like the ultimate American. His cousin wants to take him out clubbing, his uncles and aunts want their American presents and everyone calls him Ashton Kutcher. And this contrast between what the character expects and what so obviously and reasonably happens is hilarious. Everyone is justified and everyone is frustrated. And in these moments of comedy, you have the main character feeling Egyptian in America and American in Egypt and you yourself are half-laughing, half-empathising. And the best series right now play along this thin line between comedy and deep emotionality. And instead of celebrating these series, we crown Bran the Broken as ‘King of the Seven Kingdoms’ and get ‘Best Drama’ for it!

I understand that I am probably the last person that should have an opinion on this show. I was not born a first-generation immigrant, I did not grow up a minority, I was not stuck between two cultures and I am definitely not religious (unless atheist counts). But I am a young adult, I am trying to be better, I often fail and just like most coming-of-age stories, these messages always resonate with me. Which is a pretty good premise to create an authentic series about the everyday Muslim experience, without the Hollywood seasoning of Islamophobia. I will assume it is an even better series if you are looking for Fleabag-like character to identify with and instead you get Nadia in ‘The Bodyguard’. That is not to say that this series has a limited perspective audience. For example, Youssef said that he got a message from a Christian-Evangelist telling him that he IS Ramy. It just goes to show that there is a basic human relatedness underneath the specifics of religion and culture, which makes the show incredibly relevant today to all. And, did I by any chance mention that it is hilarious?

Baffled (that’s five). Maybe next season with Mahershala Ali will win something; he is an award magnet after all.

Stumbled onto 25

I don’t do very personal posts, but it was my 25^th birthday and 25 is a special age. As I have repeatedly said today, it is the first age that rounds up to 30. And as a friend very insensitively pointed out, I now belong to the 25-44 age range. First of all, it is an absolutely fine age, a good number, a very common number, especially on discount labels. Problem is, I still feel like a teenager (and probably act like one too). I can stretch it to barely an adult because I pay bills and vote, occasionally. In other words, I am behind! I am sitting in a basement wearing a Conan O’Brien shirt (a birthday gift), with a Winnie the Pooh blanket (a loan) trying to arrange a Munchkin get-together (another birthday gift). And those birthday gifts are on point! Anyway, as it is my birthday and a number of people have wished for all my wishes to come true, I’ll write a couple of them down. And they should all come true according to my friends, therefore they agree. Birthday wishes are now essentially like Apple’s Terms and Conditions. All my friends can hope for is that I am not a flat-earther at this point.

I wish for the cinematic superhero genre to never end!

Marvels’ Avengers Endgame was phenomenal and its premiere is one of the happiest moments of my life, along with getting accepted to uni, graduating and the births of all my nieces and nephews. So now I am worried that that’s it! That the momentum is lost. That the story ended and we are all sceptical about bothering with a new one. And I include myself because I haven’t even gone to watch Spiderman: Far from home. Me! Spiderman! I have not lost faith, James Gunn is doing another Guardians of the Galaxy, also semi-rebooting Suicide Squad, Taika Waititi is doing the next Thor and will also be in Suicide Squad (don’t get my hopes up just to knock them down, DC), Scott Derickson is doing another Dr Strange and Kumail Nanjiani joined the Eternals along with the Stark brothers, the KINGS IN THE NORTH! I love superheroes, I love light-hearted sci-fi movies, I love being able to have inside jokes with almost all of the population and still call them inside jokes. Hollywood, please don’t let the superhero genre die; us nerds have not yet had our full vengeance on the cool people.

I wish for a pause in series productions!

I need to catch up. Essentially, there are too many good series and I do not have time to watch them all because new good series are coming up all the time. And I don’t always know whether a series will be any good, I might end up wasting valuable series-watching time on shit like Carnival Row. Mind you, Cara Delavingne is the lead, all the warnings were there. But if we all just mutually agree that nothing new will come out for about a year, we can all then spend this time wisely, watch the Sopranos and Battlestar Galactica, maybe even Cheers and Seinfeld if we want to go that far back, catch up on the Handmaiden’s Tale (and by that I mean abortion laws in Georgia), check out Barry as well as the Will and Grace reboot. And if we have absolutely no social life, we can always rewatch all the series we love and miss. Or Rivedale, there’s no judgement in rewatches.

I wish for Benefit cosmetics to make all their make-up cruelty free!

Because I am not giving up meat and I need some way to deal with all that guilt. Benefit, you might have the best bronzer, concealer, mascaras and brow pencils, but if I have to, I will buy drugstore.

I wish for Conan O’Brien to host the Oscars!

I have an obsession with this human being and, yes, eventually someone will need to do something to snap me out of it. But instead, I am being enabled by friends (see first birthday gift above), therefore I rightfully wish for him to host the Oscars. Because he is awesome and he deserves it. And I live and breathe for the moment that a Masturbating Bear segment precedes the ‘In Memoriam’ segment.

I wish for world peace!

Because I have to.

I wish for a great idea for a start-up!

So I can make tons of money and then spend some time catching up on the previously mentioned series. If anyone has good ideas that they would not like to materialise themselves because they are allergic to money, please bring them forward. Or you know, I guess I could also wish to finish up my PhD, get a well-paying job, win a research grant, and have a formidable career. But a start-up sounds so much more fun!

I wish for Taylor Swift to stop making music and start doing something where I don’t have to see her annoying face!

I guess she could keep on making music but wear her hair like Sia’s. But then I would still have to put up with her annoying voice. Maybe she could write music and have her hair like Sia's, but keep in the background, again, ironically, like Sia. But then I would still have to put up with her annoying lyrics. This is turning into a personal attack on Taylor Swift and today is meant to be a positive day, so I will stop at ‘annoying lyrics’.

I wish for no more Disney live adaptations!

There, I said it! I never comment on it in other posts, but honestly, they are not better than the originals, I doubt kids will like them more than cartoons and why on earth cut Mushu from Mulan? Consider me disappointed.

I wish for more free storage space on Dropbox!

I think it may be time to end this post. Honestly, anything right after O’Brien and the Oscars could have been scrapped. I wish I had more things to wish for, but this has been a very nice birthday and I find myself feeling content. It won’t last long, but it’s better to end on a positive note to make up for all that Taylor Swift hate.

Stumbled onto the Emmy’s nominations 2019

There is nothing more celebratory of my favourite pastime than the Emmy’s. Sure, the Oscars are the big event with the better venue and more expensive dress code (I assume, I wouldn’t know) but series is the real measure of how millennial you are. I am miles away from having seen everything, but I am very confused as far as some nominations are concerned. It is good to celebrate good work when it is deserved. But handing out nominations in a congratulatory manner is just making light of our investment and disappointment. And while I had sworn not to do this, yes, this post is mostly about Game of Thrones.

Marvelous Mrs Maisel got a bunch of nominations and nothing could have made me happier. Well, Good Omens getting the recognition it deserves would. But the comedy category was a ray of joy as well as Kumail Nanjiani being nominated for a guest appearance in a series I have not watched (but Kumail is life).

Nonetheless, I cannot get over the Game of Thrones nominations. Direction is a bit more subjective and the grandiose of this season cannot go overlooked, but how are Weiss and Benioff nominated for their writing? There is a globe of fans disappointed about the whole season, the character development, the poor plot, the underuse of certain actors and the underwhelming resolution of the most important storyline of the whole series. I have at least two friends that did not hate the season; that thought the last episode will make up for all of it, fill in the plot holes and justify a number of questionable choices. It did not. They were the most disappointed. And then the final episode of this idiotic downfall of the most impactful fantasy series of all time gets nominated for the writing? What writing? Tyrion got a couple of good lines in when talking with Jon Snow or confronting Daenerys, but what else is there? Everything that elevated Game of Thrones was missing and, frankly, it exposed it for the mediaeval soap-opera it secretly was. I understand that it is the final season and this is perhaps a celebration of an otherwise impeccable series (other than the last two-ish seasons). Scratch that, I don’t. Game of Thrones has enough awards from its good seasons, it does not need complimentary ones.

I am happy about some of the actors’ nominations. I think Gwendoline Christie and Alfie Allen getting nominated put a smile on my face almost immediately. I cannot exactly pin it down, it is not like they had the most screen time but something about them getting nominated made a lot of sense. Theon was one of the most complete characters that this season did not manage to wreck and I think Alfie Allen did the character justice. Peter Dinklage and Nicolaj Coster-Waldeu were also enjoyable. I personally am not a big fan of Emilia Clarke as an actor (but love her as a pop-culture icon), but she did the ‘I’m fine-I’m crazy’ transition as well as anyone could have, I guess. But then Lena Headey was nominated. She is wonderful. I am re-watching season five and she is amazing. But in the currently nominated season, if it weren’t for the different costumes, I would have thought that they shot her once looking out the window with a wine glass in her hand and called it a day. If the critics weren’t sure who to nominate, they should have taken a tour on 9gag and reddit and read all the memes about Headey getting a shitload of money for doing nothing the whole season. Don’t get me wrong, we were all very happy for her and her doing it shows that it can be done. I won’t lie and pretend I didn’t cry for half an hour straight about her and Jamie’s death, the greatest plot twist this season pulled off, so if that is why she is nominated then I’m happy. No, scratch that again, if she is nominated I want it to be because of the wine-drinking-window-looking.

I want to end on a positive note; I am nonetheless excited about these Emmy’s. I am invested in many of these nominees and I think the cultural change is more obvious than ever this year. The female nominees were so much more exciting that the male ones. Phoebe Waller-Bridge, Amy Sherman-Palladino, Julia Louis-Dreyfus and Amy Poehler dominated the comedy category with Waller-Bridge taking the time to flirt with ‘Best Drama Series’ award as well. Now that gender inequality in Hollywood has been in the spotlight, opportunities were distributed differently and we found out that stories can be successfully told from a woman’s perspective and be funny and witty and relatable. Shocking! I also want to end on a positive note about Game of Thrones in particular. Even if I am projecting my disappointment with Game of Throne’s final season on Emilia Clarke’s acting chops, I will be happy to hear the speeches about this 10-year sexually charged, death-filled pop-culture prodigy. And see Kit Harington out of rehab because I feel guilty about his being there. We know it wasn’t your fault, Kit.

Stumbled onto Amazon Prime's Good Omens adaptation

I am not honest when I say that I stumbled onto Good Omens. I was led there. I was led there by the late Sir Terry Pratchett, whom again I did not stumble upon. Now, this post might get a bit more personal than usual, but that was going to happen eventually, right?

I do not think you can call me a bookworm. Actually, people who do not read books may call me a bookworm, but real bookworms know. I had two older brothers growing up that would let me sit in during movies and series and therefore I was a kid destined to watch television. I did not really like books. I remember not liking books. Then Harry Potter happened, thankfully quite early on, before any real damage was done. I devoured these books, I read them quickly, I stayed up to finish chapters, I rushed to buy new ones the minute they came out and most annoyingly, I would not shut up about them. But that was it. Nothing else I was given to read caught my attention. It wasn’t the best selection of books anyway. I remember one about a kid who became good friends with a local inanimate tree and then got all his classmates to sit on top of it so they wouldn’t tear it down. And that was one of the good ones. I would read some funny ones here and there, ‘Petit Nicolas’ was a favourite, some other humorous Greek books I will not bore you with, but I would most likely go back and re-read ‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban’ for the umpth time.

And then my cousin started reading Terry Pratchett and read me an extract from ‘Mort’ during dinner, half reading half laughing. And life was never the same. I don’t think I knew books could be that funny, that you could laugh more reading about a giant turtle carrying four elephants on its back carrying a disk of a world than watching ‘Friends’. It was a shock. The Discworld novels were so absurd, it finally felt like a match for an eleven year old with a vivid imagination and gave me a taste of good, well-written comedy. So my cousin is single-handedly to blame for all the hours I’ve wasted watching late night, stand-up and English panel shows. It naturally flowed that after the Discworld novels I would come across Good Omens. A masterpiece co-written by two heroes of the sci-fi genre; the aforemtioned Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. The book was brilliant, it dealt with such a taboo subject, such as the antichrist bringing about the end of the world, exactly how Pratchett dealt with everything in his wonderful Discworld; as a joke. It’s only instance of possible blasphemy is refusing to engage in an argumentative debate regarding religion. Religion is simply a background for an angel, Aziraphael, and a demon, Crowley, who have come to love and enjoy earth and see beyond predetermined good and evil. And so many more hilarious characters; a witch, a dead witch, a witch-hunter, a fake witch-hunter, the Antichrist, his cute little devil-hound, his group of friends, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, the Other Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and a couple of humans. And this selection of absurdity fits into a narrative and even has a message about nurture and choice (I think).

Then, Terry Pratchett passed away after battling with Alzheimer’s and instructed his friend Neil Gaiman to make Good Omens into a mini-series. Neil Gaiman was apparently anxious, but the rest of us were delighted! This would be an amazing series and hopefully a predecessor to a Discworld series? (nudge, nudge, wink, wink). It was announced that Neil Gaiman himself would adapt this for television. Great! His work in American Gods (Season 1) was incredible. It was then announced that David Tennant and Martin Sheen would portray the protagonists. I almost cried! It was then announced that Jon Hamm and Jack Whitehall would join the cast. Well, then I did cry. But recently, book adaptations have disappointed fans with a rushed manoeuvre and a trade-off between expensive CGI and character development (if you are reading this in 2019 you probably know which series I am referring to). The stakes were high, and my excitement was subtly co-inhabiting with anxiety. Unnecessary anxiety.

Of course the show was great! Of course its adaptation was appropriate and the depiction beautiful. Of course it was special; it traded in grim, crude realism for optimism, humour and imagination. It was different to anything else currently on television and felt like a much necessary addition. And most importantly, fans were left satisfied and newcomers were probably left triggered. It was an adaptation alright, and of course some cuts were made. But if you can cut fan favourites like the Other Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and get almost zero complaints, you have probably done something right. I think the show did more than 'something right'. It was hilarious, beautifully shot and, in a way, was also a celebration of humanity. Not necessarily up in your face, but the ultimate prevention of Armageddon came about from letting the antichrist grow up to be human; sometimes good, sometimes bad and in need of companionship. And these also characterised the two main protagonists, Aziraphael and Crowley; they were driven by companionship and understood that good and bad were not necessarily absolutes.

There is something special about fantasy and something particularly special about treating a strong story with a light-hearted manner. You might have noticed that I mostly talk about Terry Pratchett and not Neil Gaiman; that is because I have only read his work and because I honestly loved him as a writer. However, it is the ultimate irony that the central motive for the characters in this book was companionship and that is also what made this book great. They loved writing it together, we loved reading it and we also loved watching it. And to conclude, here is a piece of the afterword from the book, which simply gives me a lot of joy when picturing their collaboration.

‘The point they both realised the text had wondered into its own world was in the basement of the old Gollancz books, where they’d got together to proofread the final copy, and Neil congratulated Terry on a line that Terry knew he hadn’t written, and Neil was certain he hadn’t written either. They both privately suspect that at some point the book had started to generate text on its own, but neither of them will actually admit this publicly for fear of being thought odd.’

Stumbled onto Arabian Nights

Yesterday, after a round of souvlaki we found ourselves in a movie theater in the very first row (this is relevant later on), watching the live adaptation of Aladdin. If you have access to the internet you would have seen that the reviews were far from positive. But as I have a soft spot for anything Aladdin, I would not let a couple of bad reviews stop me from paying money to watch it.

I should have. First of all, this will not be one of these posts arguing that there is no point remaking Disney classics, cashing in on nostalgia and failing to come up with original ideas. Not that that is not true, but this has happened to numerous movies, so you know, fine! I really liked the live adaptation of Beauty and the Beast. It was brilliantly cast, it stuck to the original storyline with a few welcome additions (eg. Why the people of the village were unaware of the enchanted castle) and the shot for shot replication was touching. But, as with all blockbusters, after this successful live adaptation, the next one seemed rushed and sloppy.

Just like everyone else I was more confused than anything that this was directed by Guy Ritchie. Were Aladdin and Jafar going to solve their differences on a boxing ring, with rats running around and all of that shot in grey? And then I realized what Guy Ritchie directing meant in this case. It meant I should not have eaten a souvlaki and sat in the first row. That camera was on its own private roller coaster, rushing through the streets of Agraba and toying with my vomit. The song numbers were nicely shot though, good thing they fixed the CGI for Genie. But why didn’t Guy Ritchie make sure that Jafar looked either menacing or foul rather than pitiful? Weird choice, should have cast the guy from Snatch that arranged the dog fights.

I’m guessing they got Guy Ritchie so they could have two names that people had heard of, including Will Smith. Do not get me wrong; kudos to Disney for not white-washing Aladdin and kudos for getting new faces and sky-rocketing them to fame. That two-name comment was more of a joke than an actual criticism. But let’s get back to the white-washing thing. There has been a lot of talk in Hollywood about accents and how ridiculous it is to have actors do broken English accents in non-English settings. Let me explain this sentence I wrote that makes little sense. Would Aladdin, Yasmine and the people of Agraba in Middle East Asia speak English? No. But for the purposes of the movie, the purpose being us understanding them, they are. So, is there any point in them having an accent? No, it is translated anyway. So the movie half did this. Meaning the central cast had clear accents, but everyone else had ‘Arabic’’. I burst out laughing, honestly. It is a good thing the merchant understood Aladdin with that weird manner of speaking he had. And say, Yasmine and the people of the palace are meant to have different accents because they are higher born or whatever. Why does Aladdin have a different accent to all of his peers? Maybe Abu taught him.

These are but details. This next complaint is a long one.

Aladdin is a story about a poor boy, that was seen as a ‘street rat’ because he was born among the ‘rough’, but instead was a ‘diamond’. That boy gets an all-powerful Genie, and momentarily gets blindsided by his good fortune and changes for the worst. But towards the end of the movie realizes that what matters is what’s inside and not whether you were born rich or poor. I am assuming whoever is reading this over 12 may find this overly simplistic, but it is a pretty good premise for a children’s film. And a pretty complete one too. Aladdin has a full character arc, a justified arc. But no, they had to make Yasmine sultan to pretend they are feminists. Yasmine is already one of the fiercest princesses in Disney; she defies orders, she insists on marrying out of love and not necessity, resists Jafar and ultimately manipulates him in order to defeat him. She is great! My personal favourite! But this movie decided that she needs to sing an oh-so-cheesy song named ‘I will not be silenced’ and defy the chronological context of the movie by becoming sultan. And what was most frustrating for me was that she claimed she wanted and ‘should be’ sultan because she loved, understood the people and as a ruler would do what was best for them. It is amazing how much you can understand about common people’s needs when you are a princess that has never been outside the castle. She stole bread from a merchant to give to two starving children; noble, for sure, but not an effective economic strategy. In that case, Jafar might have been better suited. He did say he came from the streets (that sounds more gangsta than intended) and rose to the second, nay first, most powerful man in Agraba. He possibly understands them a little bit better, because he has lived among them and escaped the rough himself, even though he was far from a diamond. They gave Yasmine this unfounded focus, without any events supporting it, without a character arc and it just felt forced and undeserved. It was done to be done. It was quick and sloppy.

Again, the comparison is inevitable. Beauty and the Beast showed Belle invent a washing machine, learn how to read, want more ‘than this provincial life’, make her own decisions, change a man and sacrifice herself for her father… And have Stockholm syndrome and eventually just observe while the beast fought off the villain. But it made sense! Her feminist portrayal worked because she was the main character and it was her story, The beast ultimately fighting off the bad guy also made sense because he got a proper character arc. I applaud the intention to introduce stronger feminist messages into these movies. But if they wanted to include these feminists messages, they should have given Yasmine a character arc rather than a song she sings to herself. Or have her play a more integral role in the outcome. Or have someone else write the script for this stupid adaptation.

The only thing I will say, is that I cannot account for how this message may register to a child-girl (yes, I am an alien). It may be that this a good way to tell a young girl that she can be whatever she wants, even if they say only boys can be sultans. I am sure kids won’t focus on the ‘they do not have electricity, they probably would not have a female sultan’ and maybe some little girl will sing that awful song and feel empowered. In that case, my opinion is irrelevant. Not necessarily wrong, but irrelevant.

I could talk about Will Smith as the Genie, I mean he was no Robin Williams, he would never be, but I think he practically saved this movie. But as you may have understood by now, this blogpost was a poor excuse for me to bitch about Yasmine’s poorly developed, distracting subplot. I should have been upfront, I apologise. Aladdin is my favourite film so I am very, very biased and more disappointed than I should be. Will I give my money for another live adaptation of a Disney film? Probably. I mean Lion King is coming up. But in the future I might trust the reviews a bit more. And Guy Ritchie a bit less.

Re-stumbled onto Infinity War (AKA, the pre-game)

‘We are in the Endgame now’, said Dr Strange, even though creators swore that the title of the final instalment of Phase 3 from the MCU had not been mentioned in the previous films. They are liars and we love them for it.

In preparation, me and my friends went back and watched ‘Avengers Infinity War’ for the third time and I can honestly say, it could not have been a better movie considering what it was. As always, I will start with the negative, yes the one. The main complaint is that with so many heroes, no one got enough screen time and that is true. Captain America hardly got any lines in but that is what is so amazing about the MCU, he didn’t need to because his actions spoke millions: ‘I'm not looking for forgiveness, and I'm way past asking permission’, is a sum of the 'Civil War' outcome and ‘We do not trade lives’ is his moral code in a gist. Five lines was plenty for a movie with 28 superheroes. He also got a magnificent scene, where the puny human from Brooklyn, born in 1918, resists the mighty titan with his bare hands. I swear, I got goose bumps. Plus, Endgame will take care of limited screentime, as most of the additional Avengers were erased and only the six original Avengers (and Antman and War Machine and the Racoon) were left to fight. And if things go the way I think they will, the Endgame will do justice to Steve Rogers.

There were a couple of details which were the utmost celebration of what the MCU has achieved and I would like to point them out. First one is the emotional turmoil it placed our superheroes in and how we all empathised. Thor had to witness his people get slaughtered, his best friend (and last) sacrifice himself and his brother choked in an impromptu act of kindness. So he is hurt and pissed and deservingly gets the best shot at Thanos out of all the Avengers. But he should have gone for the head. Then, both Peter Quill and Wanda Maximoff have to fight every inch of their being and kill the people (or robots respectively) they love for the greater good. And once they manage that unimaginable task it is undone in seconds. Still does not mean I forgive Peter Quill for FUCKING UP the whole universe, but you know, I empathise. After the life-ending snap, many last words were a knife through the heart; Black Panther say ‘this is no place to die’ as he gets erased from existence and Peter Parker turns to dust in the hands of Iron Man, who felt guilty enough as it was about this kid he took into his care, but he now has to watch him die, essentially. It was all heart breaking.

On the subject of Peter Parker, everything about this Spiderman is compensation for the Emo and Hipster Spidermans of the past. He is a movie nerd and a millennial, hence the pop-culture references, but possibly the best (and unlikely) version of a teenager you can get. He is so innocent and selfless it does not even cross his mind that an alien attack is diversion enough for him to disappear. He perfectly translates his ‘small scale’ vigilante duties to the Infinity War scale by saying ‘You can’t be a friendly neighbourhood Spiderman if there is no neighbourhood’. I’m sorry, even though that quote has the word ‘Spiderman’ in it, it is proper deep. Later on, his spidey sense, just like Mantis’, warns him about what is to come, a detail that made me love the Russo brothers just a tiny bit extra. And lastly, my favourite detail, in the middle of the scariest fight of his life, he takes a moment to rejoice about being an official Avenger. He is as likeable as he should have been three Spidermans ago.

Spiderman is a major Marvel character and perhaps doing him justice is what was expected. However, what the MCU will be known for is taking characters like the Guardians of the Galaxy and making them superstars. I am not saying anything original here, but I think we need a moment of appreciation for the MCU and James Gunn in particular for making them such standouts, that within a second of ‘The Rubberband Man’ playing, we knew who was coming up on screen. That is not a small feat and it just goes to show how ironclad these characters are in everyone’s mind.

And it is time to address the Titan in the room, and that is the best worst, villain since Christopher Nolan gave Batman a sore throat. Thanos is the balls (and that is not a reference to his chin, although it could be). He is not your typical villain with equal power to the hero, but with cruel intentions; he has the six infinity stones that control the universe. He can make half of existence disappear with the snap of his fingers. He is so strong, we ignored the fact that Iron Man’s suit is now essentially the Green Lantern ring (Wait, is this a crossover episode?), because it didn’t really matter anyway. And apart from that, he has suffered, he is dedicated and there is an argument behind his actions. He has seen his own planet deteriorate because of overpopulation and he is aware that there are finite resources in this universe. He has therefore decided to take it upon him to ‘bring balance to the universe’. He is probably a vegan too. Of course, he is also an emotionally detached, murderous maniac, which is what I would be if I was vegan as well. But we see him ache for Gamora, we see him show some recognition, even maybe admiration, for the selfless defenders, their effort, determination and self-sacrifice. He is not likeable, but he is surely more likeable than his skinny son, Ebony Maw; I think I literally cheered when he got his ass ‘Alien’ed. I recognise that  Thanos is obviously worse than one of his mere helpers, but he is given more character and played by Josh Brolin. I am glad Brolin also plays Cable, because otherwise I could see me mourning his loss from the MCU. And my friends would rightfully kill me if I shed a tear for Thanos.

But the most important thing that made this movie a success, was the dynamics. The Russo brothers kept enough track of the progress so far, to know who had met whom and who had heard of whom and some of those unlikely pairings were the best entertainment in the MCU. Namely Peter Quil and Thor, Peter Quil and Iron Man, Iron Man and Dr Strange, Hulk and Bruce Banner and Iron Man and Captain America. I know the last pair did not interact, but considering the 'Civil War' aftermath we needed Tony Stark to hesitate before calling Steve Rogers. How do you make that phone call? What a beautiful human moment.

Why is this that big a deal? Because this is not just the final installment of Phase 3; it’s the final instalment of all three phases. It is possibly the biggest movie event to date, certainly comicbook-wise. There is nothing more anticipated, nothing of more pop-culture importance. I’ll say it even if no one else does, it is more important than Game of Thrones. Why? Because there are more years of investment, an extra three to be precise, and most importantly this is our nerdom payback. We were mocked and we relied on paper drawings and movies worthy of the mockery we faced to get our dose of nerdiness. And then the MCU transformed this silly, childish, fictional world to the epitomy of Hollywood, getting everyone from the hottest actors to Oscar winning actresses involved. It got niche directors into the mainstream, it incorporated other movie genres and most importantly, it gave spandex-wearing characters three dimensional personalities. So I thank you Marvel, I trust you and I welcome the shock and tears (and funny puns) that will surely make the Endgame a celebration of the superhero genre.

Stumbled onto hope for DC Extended Universe

Lots of things happened this week, good things for my professional development and mental health. Lots of good, grown up stuff. And then I watched Shazam and realised I barely cared about grown up stuff.

A quick sum. A wizard is getting too old and weak to contain the seven deadly sin monsters who had wreaked humanity in the past and needs to pass his magic powers on to a worthy ‘champion’. During his search he stumbles onto a lonely, rejected child who is not deemed worthy at the time. He is never deemed worthy, actually, and therefore becomes the villain. Sorry if that was misleading. But then he meets this other child, this boy who lost his parents, a loner, a runaway from foster homes and he becomes the champion. And if he says ‘Shazam’ he turns into a tall, handsome Zachary.

This movie was brilliant. I was a bit biased as Zachary Levi is one of the most likeable people in Hollywood and I have recently re-watched the second season of Marvelous Mrs Maisel, where he was perfect. And so much better than stupid Joel. But I had a much stronger counter-bias which is that DC has pretty much fucked up all of its superhero movies in the DCEU. Therefore, I can safely say that I have a balanced opinion about this movie and all should agree. The humour was fantastic, light and immature, as it should be. Extra points for keeping the original costume regardless of how ridiculous it looked in the year 2019. Characters were very, very likeable, meaning the main character, the foster siblings and the foster parents. And Santa Claus. Look out for the little sister, who is going to melt your heart from her very first scene.

And all the ‘comic book’ stuff were ‘comic book stuff’. Yes, the villain and the wizard do not get a sufficient back-story and are charicature-esque. But I mean, how much back-story can you give a white-bearded wizard to make him relatable without spending seven books, eight movies, a play, two prequels (to date) and multiple unnecessary tweets? And the villain looked like he had a difficult childhood; how would I have enjoyed his defeat if he was relatable and I felt bad for him? I hope this is not a spoiler, I mean even for Avengers: Endgame we all know Thanos has to lose, right? Right? He has to. If he doesn’t, I am quitting the movies. All of the movies. Okay, maybe the seven deadly sins could have been better (much better) CGI-d or taken a note out of Fullmetal Alchemist and had more character, but mehh, they were way too ugly anyway.

And the big surprise of the evening was that this was an emotional movie. Emotionality was always lurking in the background, the protagonist is a delinquent foster child with a good heart, his best friend is a foster child with a disability, they are outcasts and bullied at school; that is all there. But it is shoved down your throat, begging you to focus on how unfortunate and scarred the protagonists are, as in some other, uhum, movies. But when the time is right, emotionality hits you in the face. Followed by some beautiful, immature, funny scenes.

So is this hope for DC? Did they finally get it right or will this just be an exception to the Snyderisms we have had to put up with? A friend of mine suggested that the movie was good because of the lower budget. As Shazam is not a famous superhero, there was more creative freedom, more room for risk. I hope that is not true. I hope they finally sat down at DC’s fortress of solitude, their Batcave, their headquarters, pinpointed what Marvel did well, hired James Gunn and will now reboot the universe. And while I mourned for Battfleck, and will do so until the superhero genre is fully saturated, I welcome this change if it comes with Shazam and his aesthetic in the Justice League.

Let me also put this out there, while I love Disney and all it has done for superhero movies, this could easily turn to a Lex Luthor situation with Disney having full control over blockbusters and us mainstream viewers depending on (1) whatever mediocracy they put out and (2) Oscar’s season. Part of it is already happening. As much as a liked Captain Marvel, it was not Winter Soldier. It was not a love-project for someone, it was not an original perspective. It did not need to be. From the 34 characters that will be or be referenced in Avengers: Endgame, she was the only one we had not met; of course we would watch her movie. We would watch her movie even if she wore a helmet that looked like a chicken’s head. Again, kudos for original costumes. How am I talking about the MCU again? Shazam deserves better. Shazam was awesome. Pretty decent soundtrack too.

It is good for us to have some healthy competition among the comic book movie giants, trying to out-do one another. We will get the better movies, more thought-out scripts, interesting directors and justice for Batman. I will be so disappointed if this ends up being an unexploited, momentary genius, but on the bright side, I will always have things to complain about on this blog. Bright side for me, that is.

Stumbled onto Marvel’s amazing soundtracks

I recently watched Captain Marvel, the first standalone film with a female protagonist in the MCU. Not Marvel, because Marvel made Elektra, even though we are all trying to forget. This movie could have a lot of hype; first female protagonist, Oscar-winning actress, one of the most powerful heroes in the MCU, young Samuel L. Jackson and so on. However, when half of our beloved characters have ceased to exist, a mad titan has won against our heroes and we are probably going to see the noble Captain America die in the next film, all the potential Captain Marvel hype is just not there. But to be fair this was an okay movie. It was enjoyable, the CGI to de-age SLJ did what Justice League could not do to Henry Cavil’s moustache and the characters were a bit flat but likeable. And the best part? The soundtrack. The full-on 90’s, girl empowerment, grunge soundtrack for the first female superhero movie set in the 90’s.

It is not the first time we have had a successful nostalgic soundtrack in the MCU. James Gunn (rehired, #JusticeforGunn) did it amazingly by creating a Guardians of the Galaxy soundtrack so fine and fun, we would take it without the movie. Good songs that tied in as whole and related to the story. All songs were roughly from the 70’s because that is when the protagonist, Peter Quill, received the Awesome Mix Vol. 1 mixtape from his dying mother. The songs were therefore emotionally tied in to the story and made sense plotwise. But that is not all; they tied in to the scenes as well. This was a comedy disguised as a superhero movie and the songs were giving the scenes an essential light touch. They weren’t complementary to the scenes, they were integral. And that in turn did justice to popular, adored songs.

Captain Marvel’s soundtrack has not caused the same uproar, but man did I feel like wearing brown lipliner, thinning my brows and trying to dress like Kate Moss (for the unaware, these were all 90’s trends). A bit of Salt-N-Peppa for the fun, a bit of Nirvana for the grunge and a bit of Hole, Garbage and No Doubt for that girl-power grunge-pop aesthetic. It never felt out of touch; Brie was only happy when it rains, sporting a leather jacket on a stolen motorcycle and that made a filler scene feel complete. Plus not one, but two R.E.M. songs, including Man on the Moon, which felt so utterly appropriate. While not as awesome as the sensibly named Awesome Mix, this is another Spotify playlist to follow.

 It seems the world was shocked by how good the first Guardians of the Galaxy soundtrack was (second one was not too shabby either), and superhero movies tried to implement nostalgic playlists into their movies. Captain Marvel, in my opinion, did it very well. You know who did not though? DC! Right after Guardians of the Galaxy was released and these relatively unknown superheroes got so much attention and praise, DC’s dark antihero movie ‘Suicide Squad’ went back into the editing room with many reshoots to fit this more fun and wacky attitude people seemed to enjoy. And therefore the next trailer is Harley Quinn, Deadshot and whichever other forgettable character was in the movie doing bad guy stuff with ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ playing. ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, a king of songs. A song so big, it got its own movie. Problem is, it did not work. Neither did ‘Seven Nation’s Army’ or ‘You Don’t Own Me’ or ‘Without ME’ or any of them. And this is a typical case of DC misunderstanding what worked and why. You don’t only need epic songs; you need epic songs that continue from one another, tie into the scene, tie into the plot. In other words, you need to do these epic songs justice, think them through rather than have them as accessories. In one, simple sentence, ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ is a flamboyant masterpiece, not a clickbait prop.

 Good news is James Gunn is doing the next Suicide Squad movie (at the time of this blogpost) so we can hope for a good soundtrack. Even better news is that he was rehired by Marvel for the Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3, so we can hope for an even better soundtrack. The best news is that while DC got it wrong, another Marvel director got it right, so we can hope for amazing soundtracks for many superhero movies to come. 

Stumbled onto a facial

For a few years now, makeup has received unprecedented attention and therefore makeup artists are now more common than baristas and overdone brows is the 2010’s epidemic. But even more recently the focus has been switched to skincare, for which my knowledge is basic but my interest growing. For example, my dedication to sun protection comes from Charlize Theron who named it the single most important thing in skin care. Have you seen her face? Also, have you spoken to a dermatologist? Wear sunblock! Ready for more skincare advice from our pop culture icons, I enthusiastically began my research. But I soon realised that spreading your own blood (vegan) across your face (a la Kardashian) is a piece of advice I’d rather not follow.

A couple of more celebrity beauty routines just for fun. Demi Moore favours blood sucking leeches to detoxify. It is an excellent alternative to green tea, which is diuretic. You wouldn’t want to risk having too much potassium in your blood for those poor leeches. Victoria Beckham (you know whatever is coming next is good) prefers bird poo. And all this time we were ignorantly scraping it off our cars, poor birds were only doing us a favour. While on the subject of poo, haemorrhoid cream is apparently better than concealer for those under-eye bags. Sandra Bullock was as surprised as we are. And of course, we have to mention the queen of unconventional beauty, Gwyneth Paltrow. Gwyneth is all about fair trade; if you want to take from the lower end, you have to give back. Jade eggs and vagina steamers. I think it is pretty clear by now, Gwyneth Paltrow always wanted to be a farm bird; lay her eggs and become a high-protein, low-fat meal.

But as sane, everyday people would not drain their blood for a facial, the obvious solution is creating blood moisturisers that cost 1000 dollars. Or, you know, promote six step skincare routines for morning and evening, including serums and face yoga classes. That sounds like fun actually and preferable to any other yoga I have tried. And then celebrities endorse L’Oreal skincare and do a bunch of ads. But as Nikki Glaser very accurately said, whatever affordable skin care Jennifer Aniston promotes, she wouldn’t even use on her poo-poo hole. And yes, I am aware that there is an excrement pattern throughout the text, but that was not my decision. Skincare is getting insanely popular, specialised and expensive. And then when La Roche-Poche does not give you radiant cheekbones they can blame it on the clay you don’t eat (not kidding, a spoonful of clay per day keeps the aesthetician away, according to Shaeiline Woodley).

I remember boys thought it was weird when we put yogurt on our face as a DIY mask. I am sure yogurt sounds pretty normal now, eh? And ineffective, I mean if yogurt could do the trick, why chase down birds and feed them prunes? Or at least that is how I inmagine Victoria Beckham spends her day. I am assuming this entry has been no help other than putting you off your lunch so I am just going to end by promoting the absolute basics. Wear lots of water and drink lots of sunscreen. Or the other way around, whatever works for you.

Stumbled onto my YouTube homepage

Let me start by admitting that I am stupid. It took me long to realise that what shows up on my YouTube homepage as ‘suggested’, ‘recent’ or ‘popular’ is based on the videos I had already watched. That is on me. But I did, for a time, think that all the ‘A Closer Look’ videos were coming up on everyone’s computer and that that was a worldwide popular late night segment. I mean each video has about 1.3 million views, I was not completely delusional. And then I logged onto YouTube without signing in and I realised that I have no contact with what the rest of the world is watching. The difference was immense and I learnt so many things! Ariana Grande has more than one song, there is a YouTuber that looked for dead bodies in a forest and James Corden’s show is actually doing really well! Who would have thought? The fact that I am an idiot and did not realise that YouTube was tailored to my needs (even though I was fully aware of all the data protection scandals) is on me. The fact that I am practically living in a distinct social web from the person sitting next to me is kind of scary.

It is amazing that we have breadth and depth for our interests and preferences, but, at the same time, we only exchange views about these with similarly minded people. And then we think there is more of us, we think we are indisputable. That was perhaps the benefit of TV. There were some options, less options, that would play at a certain time. So say I was watching a crappy prime time show (cough-cough, Big Bang Theory, cough-cough). There would be other people in my immediate environment watching the same crappy prime time show, because it was on at ten pm. And some of them would agree with me and we would make fun of the show during our lunch break. Some others would disagree with me and argue for Jim Parsons, Aspergers-like performance. And these are the people that I am afraid are almost missing from the equation now. I don’t have to fight with all the ‘Team Coco’ subscribers; we all love Conan and none of us is ever going to subscribe to ‘Jay Leno’s Garage’. But I am shielded from the opposition. I am aware that this sounds like I wish we were all sending essays to each other about the stereotypes and sexism and joke repetition of ‘certain’ prime time shows. With an admittedly good theme song. But I mean casual conversation, where ideas are exchanged and not just reinforced or voted down. I swear I won’t talk about how the internet is robbing us from real human experience, like a grandma; this casual conversation can be on WhatsApp while on the toilet. The best kind.

Apparently this is a real problem that was particularly prominent in the 2016 election in the US, where if you compared a Democrat’s and Republican’s Facebook feed it was as if they were living in different countries. There are serious issues about personal data being available to all sorts of companies, but the reinforcement I choose to discuss is at a basic, pop-culture level, because that is all I know. We are all getting a biased version of reality that is shared, recycled and reinforced among us. It is just curious that the freedom offered by the internet may be making us all the more close-minded. And if that sounds like I made a life-shattering realisation, signed out of YouTube, stopped reading news on Twitter and visited a couple of contradicting sites, I did not. I really, really like my videos and not having to look for them. Yay progress!

I swore I was not going to make the grandma argument about real human experience within this post! But here I go. Newcomber, Festinger and many more social psychologists did a number of studies showing that stronger relationships and greater likeability developed with people that lived closer by and were encountered more often, compared to people with similar interests. I think this is how we function, it is in our DNA, it is related to oxytocin, and yes I am going to cite all the relevant psychology terms I know to project authority. But just as I thought everyone in my office watched ‘Screen Rant: Pitch Meetings’, I also think physical proximity is useful, nourishes critical thinking and even compassion.

And it is not like we can’t get both. If 1.3 million English-speaking people, likely to be aged from 20 to 40, with a similar sense of humour are watching ‘A Closer Look’ I will either find or convert someone. It is just equally good to have a third person sitting next to us while we watch it to point out that joking about Trump’s spelling mistakes on Twitter is a distraction from the more alarming aspects of his governance. It’s nice to have these sort of dull people around and love them just because they are physically next to you, rather than hate them behind a username. And people tend to have stupid usernames.