Though we are always meant to sympathize with Magneto (who can blame a Holocaust survivor for losing faith in humanity?), I’m a little baffled by the idea of recasting him as the hero for mutants. His violent methods should hurt the mutant cause more than they help it. Everything he does reinforces the  stereotype that mutants are dangerous, and inflames public sentiment that mutants should be hated and feared. And yet, by the end of this movie, the audience is with him.

And this is why the movie ultimately fails. [Cut for spoilers.] The problem with First Class is that Magneto is absolutely right on just about everything. Xavier is absolutely wrong and comes across as the worst kind of effete liberal, impotent and misguided, if not outright delusional. While Magneto has seen firsthand what happens when men hate and fear a group of people who are different, Xavier has led such a sheltered existence with his wealth and (invisible) mutation that his idealism comes across as irritatingly naive. To him, mutant powers are for picking up chicks in bars. It represents no threat to anyone, and no one has ever had cause to treat him as a threat. Of course he believes mutants will be accepted and easily integrated in society–that’s been his experience as an extraordinarily privileged, white, and seemingly human male in a society heavily tilted in his favor.

Magneto, on the other hand, has different takeaways from his very different experiences.  He knows that humans will never accept mutants, which the movie helpfully bears out in the final battle on the beach. Xavier believes, up until the end, that the CIA will welcome them as heroes. He is shocked, shocked I tell you, that Magneto’s skepticism turned out to be an understatement.  The government, their allies, turn on them pretty much instantly–just as Magneto said they would.  Even if the humans they had met did accept and praise and worship them, Magneto is again right that the acceptance would never feel complete. He says as much in a heartbreaking discussion with Mystique when he explains that she would never be considered beautiful by any “normal” standard. He, Mystique, and all the other mutants will always be outsiders held up to human examples and standards that couldn’t possibly be met. Xavier, on the other hand, half-heartedly tells Mystique not to worry her pretty little head about her looks because she can always make herself look conventionally pretty–a callow and insincere response. 

Magneto has the strongest sense of self and of purpose. He knows what he is–a monster, both morally and genetically–and accepts that. His revenge against Shaw is a course of action that Xavier hollowly objects to, but it feels right and just nonetheless. Again, the audience is on Magneto’s side: he is in the right to be killing a true evil of history. Xavier, on the other hand, doth protest too much, and winds up seeming cowardly.

Xavier should be winning each of those arguments, and occupying the stronger position in all of those scenarios. He should have more human allies, or some kind of evidence to back up his assumption that humans are accepting and tolerant. Friendless and wrong, Xavier looks like a fool with a pipe dream. Then there’s Mystique’s crisis. Where’s the pep talk about how standards and norms have always changed and always will change, and it’s their job to get the ball rolling? Or the assurances that she is indeed beautiful as she is, and one day everyone will see the person that he sees? And as for Shaw, where is the argument to save Magneto‘s soul? Shaw made Magneto the monster that he is, but Xavier should be the one telling him that it is and always will be a choice; that killing just breeds more killing; and that Magneto is risking becoming the very man he despises. I don’t just mean some bullshit emo-angst when Magneto cuts him off with the magic helmet, or some tearful flashbacks to their moment looking at the radio dish: I mean an actual, articulated, and mature argument for why it’s so important for Magneto to be the better man and see a new future, rather than repeat old history.

The problem here is that Xavier’s traditional ideals–of tolerance, the advantages to diversity and integration, peace, and the self-destructive drawbacks of Magneto’s aggressive style–go entirely undefended. Xavier believes in what he does blindly, with no credible motivation other than extreme privilege.  He’s impossible to take seriously as a philosophical leader because he never bothers to articulate any of his philosophies. Are the strengths of his beliefs supposed to be self-evident? Or does the movie really just not believe in them? Magneto’s argument is forceful and persuasive on the one side; Xavier has no argument on the other. The writers left his quiver empty.

I was never a comic reader and my only experience of the X-Men is through the animated TV show and the many movies, so I write without any familiarity with the long and complicated canon of the comics. That said, I think I can safely argue X-Men have stood in for every marginalized group in history. It’s not a coincidence that Magneto is Jewish and a Holocaust survivor. Whether you buy the absurdly reductionist MLK, Jr./Malcolm X parallel or not, the stories have always incorporated the rhetoric of the civil rights movement. The X-Men face extreme prejudice, must struggle with whether or not to “pass” as human (if they can), and confront mob violence and mass fear at pretty much every turn. Their struggle is one of social justice and activism. The pre-First Class movies shifted the language and rhetoric to more closely reflect the LGBT experience: mutants mostly became aware of their powers during puberty, and many struggled with the decision of whether or not to “out” themselves to their friends, families, and communities. With that kind of history and foundation, I was appalled at the lack of diversity in the cast, and the implications of the pairing off at the end. This movie has one “good” PoC, who is killed off almost instantly, and the other PoCs all join the “bad” side. What kind of message is that?

While Mystique and Beast both struggle with issues of identity and finding a place in this world, Xavier does not. His place is the same as it’s always been, and if he has a vision of where mutants stand in the grand scheme of things we don’t see it. Xavier even reveals himself to be intensely amoral, mind-wiping Moira. By the end, the foundation of the “good” X-Men is shaky at best. Its principles come off as naive; its leader, kind of a dick; and its team of heroes, a disappointingly homogeneous group of white dudes.

So while it was fun, compelling, and enjoyable, X-Men: First Class‘s only articulated vision of the future is Magneto’s. He has strength, passion, and a plan. What does Xavier have? And if the answer is nothing, what’s the point?

I’ve also had enough free time recently to play some games and watch some TV.  I sort-of-but-not-really beat Batman: Arkham Asylum.  I found the game after the midway point much too difficult for me. I was playing on Normal mode, and even though I knew exactly what to do, I just couldn’t respond quickly enough to defeat the last few bosses. I would sit there, fuming, fingers practically numb, trying again and again and could not do it. I had to have my boyfriend step in and beat them for me. (After much struggle, I should note.) The whole game alternated because really clever and fun (a Batman game that’s about stealth, not combat! Riddles!) and infuriatingly difficult and repetitive. I realized about three bosses in that every single boss fight was exactly the same. Evade, batarang, hit. Evade, batarang, hit. I mean after 20 hrs of that you just want to grab a bat-crowbar and whack everyone on the skull for making you do the same bat-dance a hundred times. I don’t know if it’s just that games have become more difficult as the Halo crowd become the dominant gamer audience, or if I’ve gotten worse, or if I was never any good to begin with, but I find myself struggling with almost every game I play. Here’s hoping the next game fleshes out the detective aspect a bit more and makes combat a little more interesting.

I’m currently half-invested in three other games: Assassin’s Creed: Brotherhood, which I suspect I’ll love but just am not interested in playing right now; Star Wars: Force Unleashed, which was really fun at first and has become infuriatingly difficult (see above); and Divinity II: Ego Draconis, a refreshingly old-fashioned fantasy RPG.

I also got three new board games for my birthday (which was last week, whee!): Last Night on Earth (the basic game, unfortunately, is just boring; I’m looking forward to the advanced game); Shadows over Camelot (weirdly difficult, and the resetting of quests casts a shadow [haha] of futility over everything); and the Lord of the Rings board game, which I really loved, even if it took me until the end of the game to figure out how to actually play it. I suspect I’ll warm up to the other two once I get to play them a bit more. Anything is better than the masochistic bender I’ve been on playing Betrayal at the House on the Hill, a game so badly broken we have to make our own house rules for every scenario.

In between I’ve been forgoing movies to re-watch some old television. Rocko’s Modern Life is, sadly, not as good as I remember it, while Daria is as good if not better than I remember. The Stand, I was shocked to discover, has been touched by the sexism fairy, and I had entirely forgotten about the whole magical negro crap that King relies on like a crutch every time. Disappointing, but I still enjoyed it and I miss when network television used to produced actual miniseries. (Which reminds me: I’ve been sitting on the John Adams miniseries for how long?)  I’ve started Dexter and while it took a few episodes to get me into it’s now very addictive. My only complaint is that it’s not really the kind of show I want to watch while I’m either eating or about ready to go to sleep, which is pretty much when I have time to watch things.

The next few months are going to be very busy, so I’m definitely looking forward to the long weekend.

"One more step, Mr. Hands," said I, "and I'll blow your brains out!" Illustration by N.C. Wyeth for the 1911 edition of Robert Louis Stevenson's Treasure Island. Image from the New Britain Museum of American Art, via Wikipedia.

Over the weekend I saw an excellent stage adaptation of Treasure Island, adapted and directed by B.H. Barry. Barry, of course, is a world-renowned fight choreographer, but this was his directing debut. Thanks to some lukewarm reviews I wasn’t expecting much beyond some excellent swordfighting (fine with me!), but I absolutely loved it.¹

In addition to solid performances, the show was beautifully staged–dynamic and exciting, with the same elegant grace Barry brings to all of his fights. Versatile set pieces and lighting left enough up to the imagination, while the costumes sent most of us attending into fits of jealousy. (Those coats!) But really, the best part was the songs–sea shanties that made the transitions something to look forward to. I found myself ever-so-slightly disappointed every time the scene had to begin again. (Thankfully my new thirst for sea shanties has been fed by the inimitable Megan Messinger, sea shanty-monger extraordinaire.)

Two things struck me while watching this, though. The first is that I desperately want to replay both Sid Meier’s Pirates!, one of my favorite addictive games, and The Secret of Monkey Island, less addictive if far more clever. The second is how much young adult fiction² has changed. Treasure Island is very much about earning the respect of adults–about being accepted and admitted into their world. For Jim Hawkins, it also means rejecting the kinds of corrupting influences that can ruin adults (rum, deceit, disloyalty), and embodying the best kind of person: moral, independent, and confident. Jim’s great accomplishment is not rescuing the Hispanola or even “capturing” Long John Silver–it’s commanding equally the admiration of Dr. Livesey and Long John Silver. He does so with integrity and courage. But even before he proves it in action, all of the adults (Trelawney, Livesey, Smollett, Long John Silver) think well of Jim from the start and treat him on more or less equal footing. It’s Dr. Livesey who suggests that Jim join them on the voyage, not Jim himself. And later, when Jim disagrees with them (about escaping from Silver or lying), they respect the decision he’s made.

(Very) broadly speaking, I think we’ve shifted away from that kind of supportive adult community in our children’s/YA fiction.³ Today there’s a greater emphasis on personal independence, usually against clueless or downright hostile adults. There’s a kids versus grown-ups dynamic, and the kids often have to completely cut themselves off from the “adult” or normal world to accomplish their goals. The adults, meanwhile, are none so willing as Dr. Livesey, Squire Trelawney, Captain Smollett, or Long John Silver in bestowing their good favor in the first place. But that seems all right, because the protagonists don’t seek the approval, respect, or acceptance of said community, and when offered an invitation into it, they often reject it entirely. I’m thinking of children’s books like anything by Roald Dahl or Lemony Snickett’s Series of Unfortunate Events, and young adult books like Little Brother, The Outsiders, The Golden Compass, Ender’s Game, or even Harry Potter. Even when there are “good” adults they’re either incompetent or keep secrets, trying to “protect” the protagonists from the harsh realities of their adult world.

It’s interesting to me to look back and see how much less we value inclusion into the established adult framework, and how villainous grown-ups have become. (This isn’t a judgment, just an observation. I love all of the above examples, save Harry Potter.) Culturally we’re nowhere near the kind of rigidity of social role from Stevenson’s time (no one must join that community anymore; the popularity of the Seth Rogen movie should be proof enough that permanent adolescence is possible), and yet it must be more than that. Growing up means we all wind up adults at some point–so why are they all such jerks in fiction?

My favorite exception to this is Miyazaki’s movies. When Satsuki and Mei in My Neighbor Totoro tell their father a forest spirit is around, he encourages them to seek the spirit out and try and get to know it. Kiki, in Kiki’s Delivery Service, is prepared for her adventure by her mother, also a witch, who took the same journey herself at that age. They are not antagonists, they are allies, and they’re the community that these characters will join when their journey is over.

All of this is a very roundabout way of saying that if you’re in the New York area in the next week, you should definitely try and check out Treasure Island. And also that I need some good YA fiction to read.

¹ I’ll admit that my love may partially be due to the fact I read Treasure Island about a month ago for the first time.

² There was no YA as we know it in Stevenson’s time, of course, so I mean this generically to refer to fiction aimed at children and young adults.

³ This is based on my experience with YA fiction, which is admittedly limited. I am very interested in reading some counterexamples. The only one I could think of myself was The Green Glass Sea.

Well, this is it. Almost two years later, Eugene and I have finally finished our Star Trek Re-watch. This last episode was the most difficult post I’ve had to write. Partly it was just a messy episode to tackle–how do you talk about “Turnabout Intruder” in a way that’s fair?–and partly it’s that I’m so sad to see this go.

Before the Re-Watch, I had blogged only very rarely. I’m a little internet-shy. I live in comment threads and yet rarely post anything myself. (Lifetime lurker.) I much prefer to edit and promote others, who can say it better than I can, and I was more nervous and scared than excited about the whole idea. I was also worried about partnering with Eugene, who was the real writer between us, with plenty of published short fiction under his belt (I don’t write fiction) and a dozen episode reviews of experience, too (we had him reviewing “Pushing Daisies” at Tor.com). I’d never written for an audience. Surely readers would like him better, and then I’d feel like I was just tagging along for the ride.

But it was never competitive. Together, we have a really good synergy, and it was apparent right away that our initial format–switching off episodes–wasn’t going to work. Even when we agreed we liked episodes for different reasons, and the things we found worthy of discussion were sometimes completely separate lists of topics. So we wound up both tackling all the episodes. I have never had to work collaboratively in that way before, and it’s been such a satisfying experience. Eugene’s insane work ethic and high standards have definitely pushed me to try and meet his stride. It’s impossible, of course, he’s like some kind of writing gazelle, but like Star Trek says, the struggle is where we find meaning and are our most human.

But every end is a new beginning, and I’m excited to carry on. The folks who join us from week to week are without a doubt the finest folks on the internet, and the thought of going week after week without their company is just too sad. Neither of us have seen The Animated Series, and of course we’ll do the movies, so those will likely be our next projects. We’re both big TNG fans and will probably do at least a limited re-watch of that series. Beyond that? The sky’s the limit.

Thursday night we headed to the PokeCrawl, a Pokemon-themed bar crawl intended to help you meet some of the people at the convention. I had a reasonably good time given that a) I don’t know anything about Pokemon b) I’m not a fan of bars and c) social situations are mildly terror-inducing. But everyone was really nice and approachable and the bar games were fun and fostered light interaction. The drinks were weak, which seems to be a Boston thing?

Friday I made it to the first Gabe & Tycho Q&A, which is always a lot of fun, despite the relatively low caliber of “question.” These questions tend to fall into one of three categories: 1) I’d like to tell you my life story and also touch you; 2) I have this thing from this place I’m from I’d like to give you; and 3) I have a very generic question you’ve answered a thousand times. But Mike and Jerry manage to be funny and friendly even to the weirdest person in the audience, and roll with things no matter how borderline-or-over-the-border-creepy things can get. I have a lot of respect for them because they have a lot of respect for their fans. Even the crazy ones.

The rest of the day was spent in the Expo Hall and the open gaming room. The Expo Hall had some neat 3D gaming demonstrations, but most of the really cool material–the demos–had lines that lasted hours. As a huge KOTOR fan I would have loved to see Star Wars: The Old Republic, but I wasn’t willing to give up four hours for it. That’s how long the line was! I would’ve also liked to poke at L.A. Noire (the lines were closed before I even got there), Child of Eden, or Lord of the Rings: War in the North, but same problem. Too bad. At least I was able to try out a few things at the console freeplay: Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn on the Wii (laughably awful dialogue/plot and boring play, which is too bad seeing as I really like the DS game), Marvel vs. Capcom 3 (fun and silly), and some Kinect games. I never saw much appeal to the Kinect (don’t we already have the Wii?) but I’ve changed my mind. People were getting seriously into the dancing games and I can see a lot of potential for that kind of system. Unfortunately you need a room in your house/apartment big enough to flail around in, which means it’s not in my own future.

Friday night I skipped the concerts to play tabletop board games until 2am. It’s like college all over again! We tried out Pompeii, which was silly but pretty fun nonetheless, and discovered some gems like Maid: A Roleplaying Game.

Saturday was the Make-a-Strip panel, in which Mike and Jerry do their Penny Arcade strip before your eyes. Watching Mike create it is absolutely mesmerizing. He makes it seem so easy, and yet has such craft and deliberation. He also took an audience request and added a pony at the last minute, so props for that.

I also sucked it up and got in line for the Nintendo 3DS demo. Verdict: neat, but unnecessary, expensive, and still headache-inducing. At $250 I can’t imagine picking this up as a portable system. I can get an Xbox for that! And frankly, the 3D doesn’t add anything. I tried Street Fighter IV for it, and while the third dimension receded rather than popped out at you, I just don’t see the point. If you tilt the system slightly you lose the effect, and it always winds up looking cheaply holographic.

The rest of the day was spent gaming, mostly. The retro gaming arcade rooms and consoles were amazing, but PC gaming was a total headache. The only co-op games we could find were Left 4 Dead 2 (which my friends and I already have) and League of Legends, which was baffling and frustrating. The place just wasn’t set up for co-op. Half the microphones didn’t work, vent servers kept disconnecting, and playing anything was needlessly difficult. We spent 20 of our 30 allotted minutes trying to get set up. We had hoped for some Starcraft II, but you couldn’t play co-op without actually owning the game; they didn’t have Halo, which I’ve always wanted to try; Team Fortress 2 wouldn’t let us play without inviting 24 strangers; and we ran out of time before we could move on to any other games.

From there, I headed to the main theater for the Omegathon round before the concert. The Omegathon is an elimination tournament of 20 gamers, and the round up next was Jenga. The prize is usually an all-expenses paid trip to Japan or Germany for a game show, so it’s worth entering if you’re good at these things. Anyway, this game of Jenga was played with 2x4s, not regular pieces, so it was much heavier and looked very difficult to work with. It was tense. Insanely tense. Mike provided colorful commentary and we all bit our nails as the Omeganauts carefully walked around the ever-teetering tower. They tension was ruined, however, when they arbitrarily decided to introduce the “Omega Law”: you only have 10 seconds to choose the block you’re going to work with. The losing person lost not because he wasn’t good, but because he had to choose a block that was obviously structural, and so he swiped the tower over intentionally rather than let it fall on him.

Afterward was the Saturday night concert: Video Game Orchestra (who I like), Paul and Storm (who I love, though I didn’t like any of their new material), and Jonathan Coulton (who I also like, but again didn’t like any of his new material). By the time the concert let out at 2am it was actually 3am (thank you, Daylight Savings…) and I crashed pretty hard before the last day.

Sunday we managed to snag some more board games, the first being Betrayal at the House on the Hill, a kind of House on Haunted Hill board game. It was a LOT of fun but we barely scratched the surface in the half hour or so we had. Then there was Atlantis, a Mayfair game a little like its cousin Carcassonne in that it’s undemanding and fun. We also tried our hand at Pandemic, a co-op game about trying to cure disease. On introductory level it was insanely hard and we lost the game. When we turned it in, the woman at the checkout said no one had yet won the game!

Overall, I had a good time, but that may just because I spent it with friends and used it as a mini-reunion. It’s safe to say that 90% of the people I met throughout the weekend were really nice, really fun, and a pleasure to talk with. But the programming didn’t interest me–I’m not trying to start my own video game–and the queue/line procedure for everything from concerts to demos was so onerous and awful that it saps all your energy and goodwill.

Would I go again? I don’t know. I want to say no, but I said that last year and went anyway. I think if I went in with the mindset of skipping most panels/events and just playing games, I would consider it again. But at that point, why spend the money?

Hello hello! Things have been kind of insane ’round these parts since I got back from vacation. We’ve covered three Star Trek episodes: “The Cloud Minders” (like The Time Machine or Metropolis, only crummier); “The Savage Curtain” (where else could you see Abraham Lincoln and Genghis Khan wrestle?); and today’s “All Our Yesterdays,” a kind of poor man’s “The City on the Edge of Forever” which I really enjoyed nonetheless. It let me talk about Macbeth, so it gets bonus points for that. I realize the screencaps I picked out above seem to tell a narrative about Honest Abe interrupting Spock’s lady time, but… well that isn’t that far from the truth, really.

This weekend I’m headed to PAX East in Boston. I went last year, but had a fairly mixed experience. The event was insanely overcapacity, so much so that I barely made it to any events. This year they’ve picked a larger convention center but now I’m disappointed that 99% of the programming is focused on breaking into the gaming industry. Not relevant to my interests! I’m also not sure if Wil Wheaton will be there this time. He was the keynote last year, but because of aforementioned overcapacity I didn’t make it in to the theater to see his keynote address. This year’s keynote is Jane McGonigal, who I will gladly skip–she drives me crazy. I share her general idealism and think gamers are pretty big-hearted folks, but anyone who claims that World of Warcraft, in its guilds and group missions, is a paragon of social connection and communality has clearly never been screamed at over Teamspeak or harassed for “pix” in global chat. As an avid gamer, I think games can be unabashedly positive forces in a person’s life and can foster real communities. But something about online multiplayer brings out the primal douchebag in us all–the evil doppelganger that makes you want to kick your roommate in the nads for taking your mother!&%@# sheep port in Catan.* So, you know, it’s a mixed bag at best, and it would take a serious bender to convince me that gaming is as profoundly motivating as she claims it is.

But I digress. Here’s hoping this year’s PAX East is better than the last! I’ll be kicking things off with the PokeCrawl. (Also, nothing makes you feel older than having to look up the Pokemon Wikipedia page because you have no idea what it is beyond “those cute hamster things in balls.”) Brilliant plan or regrettable mistake? We’ll find out tonight!

____________________

* Theoretically.

Or don’t, really. Our re-watch finally came upon “The Way to Eden,” one of the most awful pieces of television ever created. It deserves a special place in your subconscious between The Star Wars Holiday Special and all of the kids-oriented Jim Carey movies. But we’re having a lot of fun talking about it, though, so that helps.

I’m still in Mexico, which remains sunny and beautiful. I went snorkeling and ocean kayaking on Las Marietas islands, and have been drinking by the pool every day of the week. I can say with confidence that as a cure to what ails you*, this is a perfect course of treatment.

* Assuming what ails you is “The Way to Eden.”

This week we take another look at immortality and androids in “Requiem for Methuselah.”

I really liked it while Eugene hated it, so your mileage may vary.

Next week I’ll be escaping the psychological trauma of “The Way to Eden” by heading to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico with my mom and sister. (It still doesn’t seem far enough, does it.) It will be my mom’s first international trip in almost 40 years and my sister’s first, so we’re very, very excited. Unfortunately, space hippies might be inescapable on this trip because I haven’t finished my review…

It feels weird to be approaching the end of the series so quickly! I had been begging for this season to end pretty much since it began, but now I feel like I’d be willing to put up with anything just to get some more Star Trek. It doesn’t help that this week I had to say goodbye to Eugene, who is moving to Philadelphia while I’m on vacation. The end of an era approaches…

Scotty gets to shine in last week’s in “The Lights of Zetar,” a seriously creepy outing penned by none other than Shari Lewis (of Lamb Chop fame) and her husband. It’s a standout of this season so far, which means even less than you probably think it does.

More importantly, Eugene and I are supremely proud to announce the launch of Laugh Treks! This has been a long, long time in the making and we really hope you enjoy it. The full commentary track is up now and available for download, so please share it with friends (and strangers on the internet!).  And don’t forget to let us know if you liked it!

Stay tuned this week for “Requiem for Methuselah,” which has the distinction of being the episode Eugene and I have most disagreed over in the course of the re-watch. We’re usually not in total agreement (see: “Arena”), but never so many light years apart. Different strokes…

Next week I’ll be on vacation to sunny Mexico with my family, so I’m getting a head start–which means watching “The Way to Eden.” Don’t worry, I’ve prepared for this:

I will work my way from left to right, if necessary. Wish me luck!

This week’s re-watch: “That Which Survives,” famously underutilizing the beautiful Lee Meriwether as a rogue computer defense program. Like most of this season’s efforts, it has an intriguing premise that it entirely fails to deliver on.

The real news, however, is that this week Eugene and I will be launching Laugh Treks. We had talked last summer about ways to make the third season more palatable (not just to our readers but for ourselves!), and we kept falling back on our instincts: mockery. We had hoped to launch it with the beginning of the third season to coincidence with our review of “Spock’s Brain,” but do you guys have any idea how long these things take?!? I’ll talk about this more once it’s launched on Thursday, but this project is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. We’ve got a trailer up here if you want a taste of what’s to come. We really hope that people enjoy it and spread the word to their friends!