Myself, I would have loved to see this in theaters, but that opportunity didn’t happen.

On the other hand… I’m glad I watched this at home. It was truly disturbing. (Not necessarily in the good way Mama was disturbing, either.)

So, to the summary: Young American woman, Edith, is wooed by mysterious Brit, Thomas Sharpe. After her father’s “accidental” death, Edith marries Thomas and moves with him to his home in the English countryside – with his darling sister, Lucille. The ground seeps with red clay – hence the name “Crimson Peak.” Crazy shit ensues. Ghosts are real. And you should really, really get to know someone before you marry them. Just saying.

There was a lot of “shaking my head” going on while watching this film.

QUICK INFO DROP

Directed by: Guillermo del Toro

Written by: Guillermo del Toro, Matthew Robbins

Starring: Tom Hiddleston, Mia Wasikowska, Jessica Chastain, Charlie Hunnam, Jim Beaver

Right off the bat, let me just say…

Bobby Singer, you idgit, what are you doing in 19th century America?

Yeah, I went here. Of course I love Supernatural. Balls!

And secondly, this film has one of the best comebacks I have ever heard. Within a few minutes of opening creds, an older woman is coming down hard on young Edith for her writing aspirations (and obvious lack-of-desire-to-marry ways). She says:

Edith is our own Jane Austen. But didn’t she die a spinster?

Not a breath later, little Edith claps back with:

Actually, I’d much rather be Mary Shelley. She died a widow.

On top of being one of the best exchanges I’ve ever heard, it’s also intense on the foreshadow. INTENSE.

This film is beautiful – but I expected no less from del Toro. And the ghosts? Good LORD, the ghosts.

The direction and cinematography are awe-inspiring. Some scenes are constructed so beautifully – they are masterpieces.

Not to mention…

Who wouldn’t want to wake up to fuzzy headed Loki?

Overall though, I found the story lacking in subtlety. I suppose that’s part of the charm of a story like this, but… I couldn’t find anything overtly original in the story telling. Sure, the movie is pretty. The acting is really good. The dialogue is wonderful. But the plot? The story? It’s derivative and frankly, boring.

And I am trying really hard to admire the film’s boldness in it’s major plot twist – the one you think you telegraph from the beginning, but then OMG, that’s so much worse!

But in the end I found it as bad as a shitty jump scare. It felt like a plot move because “it could” rather than that it suited the story. Sure, Thomas and Lucille are obvious damaged people who grew up in a damaging household… but that?

Maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s just my personal experience. But that (as in the revealed plot twist) doesn’t stem from nothing. And certainly not from two kids essentially raising themselves. There’s either a whole lot left out in the film, or no substantiation for the twist except “Ha! It’s kind of like what you thought, but totally not at all! Gotcha!”

I have never been angrier at the “Gotcha” moment of a film. The twist lacks nuance. It doesn’t really suit the backstory given.

However, that aside the twist does raise interesting questions. Is Thomas as a character forgivable for his crimes because he is a victim? Or more unforgivable as a perpetrator? It was interesting to see the typical victim/abuser in such situations reverse genders. But there’s a reason self-defense is forgivable and a viable legal defense in similar cases, whereas Thomas is complicit in the heinous crimes committed by Lucille.

I would not have written it that way. Certainly not that way without greater exposition explaining how such a thing comes about. This felt like it was ripping off of Game of Thrones in terms of “shock value.” And for very, very little gain. A pointless “gotcha.”

But I will say Jessica Chastain’s acting is probably the BEST in the film. Her scenes are top-notch. She knows how to play crazy bitch very well. I absolutely loved her in Mama. I absofuckinglutely love her in Crimson Peak. I am looking forward to seeing what she does with her career in the future.

Although I am also happy to watch Tom Hiddleston do anything. Any time, any where, too.

And who wouldn’t be?

‘Til next time.

There’s new content to be had. Thursdays are now “Let’s Write Tumblr” days. (Or “Let’s Write Pinterest” or what not.)

Essentially, I stumble across a writing prompt on the webs, and give it a good tackling. Tickling? Tipping? Then I play show and tell with you.

The idea for this feature hit me when I was watching Youtube with my kids. There Youtubers do what’s called “Let’s Plays” where they play a game, screen cap the game and record themselves commenting on it as they go.

Fair warning, I will play around with this idea as time goes on. Maybe I’ll do my write up and then read it in a video. Or screen grab myself scrolling through Tumblr for an interesting prompt and talk with you about the prompt and why I picked it. Give you insight into my process. Or just me making sassy comments.

Both are good.

Without further adieu, the first Let’s Write Tumblr.

(BTW, it’s also my 100th blog post. That worked out nicely, didn’t it?)

THE RULES:

1. Time Limit: 30 minutes (that’s totally allowed time after choosing the prompt: to muse and write)
2. Word Limit: 500 minimum to 1500 maximum (could be adjusted as time goes on)
3. No Mulligans! What I post is what I wrote, good or bad. You’ll get to read it, no matter how much I hate it.

The prompt is as below:

Thanks to madokasmagical, nanenna, obsessiforge, behindthesefangirleyes, and goddesskomadori. 

Tumblr is great, isn’t it?

Ready? Set? Go!

Lost in Space

The Crusoe sailed perilously close to the dark sucking vortex inhabiting an empty corner of space.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get over show un-starry it is out here.” Chief Science Officer, astrophysicist and microbiologist, Sonya Petrovsky stared through a sheet of plexiglass at the darkness outside the ship. She knew that to the telescopic lens in her camera the nearest star light was near invisible. To her human eyes, unenhanced and above average in distance vision, the darkness outside was ebony ink. Complete. Soul crushing. Dense.

“Weighs you down, doesn’t it?” Her second in command, another astrophysicist and stargazer, Damon Thwaite leaned closer to the plexiglass. She was disappointed that nothing was reflected onto his face. No light radiated in from outside. The gaping hole they had come to study ate it all.

She simply nodded when he looked at her for a response. Turning away from the glass, she donned her head gear. Thwaite came close and locked her seals into place, clicking a few switches. Air rushed through her suit, an odd breeze around her body – one that hadn’t felt the wind in years of space travel. Except the pressurized breeze that tested her suit for leaks and weak points.

“Looks good,” Thwaite said. She gave him the universal thumbs up. She picked up the toolbox of gadgets and testing gear, then walked the uncomfortable few steps to the airlock. As well designed as the new suits were, the boots were always too heavy. Heavy magnets to lock her body to the ship, to resist the solar winds – winds that never touched her skin, to brace her against the occasional space debri. Pebbles of planet, fragments of ice and moon.

At least the fabric had been upgraded over the years. Lightweight and interwoven with nanocarbonite. She could turn repel some of the fastest, small debri speeding through space on a course to collide with her. And a knife would still find it difficult to cut through. (Albeit accidents happened. She still felt sorry for Danowitz. Knives in space are unsafe by design. Magnetic ones that catch your suit in awkward places even worse.)

The airlock door closed behind her. Thwaite peeked in the window. His dark skin made her think of the black hole beyond the second airlock door. Except his ebony skin shone with life and light. His smile at her through the window, a comforting grin as she set out once more into the vast emptiness, reassured her.

The second airlock opened and her boots, magnetized to the metal ship, pulled against the vacuum that ripped the air from around her. She walked carefully to the edge, leaning out into space and reaching over the side of the frame for the metal clip to attach her reinforced rope to. Once she’d moved her body outside, the door shut behind her with a hiss.

“How you doing out there?” Thwaite’s voice echoed around her helmet. She instructed the computer interface in her suit to turn the volume down.

“Fine. Somehow even with the heat in the suit, it still feels cold.” She shivered, the muscles around her spine seizing and releasing.

“I know. It’s my turn to go for a walk tomorrow.” She could hear the smile in his voice. Despite the otherworldliness of the situation, of the space around them… this is what they lived for.

“Let me know if you need anything, Sonya. I’ll be nearby.”

She replied a quick yes. Double checking that all her equipment was attached to her, that the lanyards and rope were secure to her belt, she grabbed the handhold above the clip and pushed off as hard as she could. She had directional jets she could fire to push her, guide her, to their chosen studying point.

But she hated wasting fuel. And enjoyed the space walk.

She let herself drift backwards, feeling her momentum leech away. She closed her eyes and leaned back (or what seemed to her as leaning back) into the emptiness, letting the vacuum around her cradle her body.

Gravity was overrated. Not that she didn’t miss it. And maintaining her health in space was hard – but there was no better hammock to cradle one’s body than nothing. No gravity to pull down, no pressure to push up.

A hard tug on her belt, whipping through her midriff and whiplashing her body with its force broke her zen moment into pieces. Adrenaline pumped through her system. Being in space meant being primed for stress, for the unexpected. Her body relished in finally unleashing the constrained flight or fight response.

It’s ok, she told herself, willing her heart and lungs to calm. Just a knot in the rope.

“Everything okay out there?”

Thwaite’s voice was a welcome distraction. “Yeah, I think I got a kink in my line. I’ll have to straighten it out. Startled me, ‘s all.”

“Ok, understood. Your monitors went wild there. I can see you’re calming down.” He laughed. “Stop causing such a ruckus. Drama queen.”

She laughed, but didn’t reply. The last time her heart rate had set off alarms the whole ship had woken up. She was glad Thwaite was nearby to reset everything before the captain got down her throat about it.

Pulling herself back along the line – light tugs, because why pull hard? Wasted physical effort, pulling oneself with all one’s might in space. She was lighter than air. No point to rushing or pulling hard.

Underneath her breath she heard something. “Comms volume up,” she said. There was a crackle in her helmet, but that settled into silence. But the sound remained. Like an echo in the Grand Canyon, coming back to say hello before floating away. Only this sound didn’t float away – it grew stronger.

There was a melody to it, a pulsating beat that tickled her insides. Her heart picked up the sound and marched along to it. Can one tap their toes in space? She wasn’t sure of the answer, but knew she was doing it either way as she pulled herself along the rope.

Louder the sound grew. She could pick out distinct musical voices – definitely voices. Humming or singing together, harmonic and powerful. She throbbed to the music. Her muscles turned to jelly. She couldn’t pull on the rope anymore. It took all of her willpower to hold onto it.

The back of her suit was pressed. She felt the vinyl nanofabric brush her shirt. Despite its thickness, she even felt distinct pressure points – like Thwaite patting her on the back as he helped her dress. Fingers.

Her heart’s rhythm doubled. The organ had moved up a foot, sticking in her throat, nearly choking her. Breathing staccoto’d, hiccups and whimpers.

“Damon, are you there?” She whispered. The comm popped and crackled. She could barely hear its noise over the music surrounding her, merging with her. Melting her mind.

“Damon, can you hear that?” Still no response.

She looked to the Crusoe . The airlock door opened. The music surged, a cacophony of heart-rending sound. Urging her to let go, let go. Her hands loosened around the rope.

The Crusoe ejected its contents into the blackness around it. Only the light emitted from its search and work lamps outside revealed what was pulled out. A body, along with equipment big and small.

“No, no, no…”

Her fingers twitched. The music soothed her pain, silenced her tears.

Damon… his body.. drifted towards her a moment before the darkness grabbed it.

Not the darkness. Something hiding within it. It glinted in the worklight, a shimmering rainbow of impossible colors this far into nothing, so close to a vortex of gravity.

The pressure on her back again – this time a single finger (claw?) scratching carefully down her back.

Another ejection of contents – containing more equipment and bodies. She couldn’t identify them as far as she was. It didn’t matter.

Her hands were floating free from the rope. The song swelling in her ears. At first it had been indecipherable. Music, beat, tempo, harmony – but now she heard the words. Such sweet words, such feeling in them. Loss, loneliness, desire, beauty.

The other bodies were plucked from the darkness, the same shimmering rainbow twisting and turning around them.

Her heart beat slowed. She blinked lazily. Took long, but shallow breaths that went no deeper than her upper lungs.

Just beyond the carabiner her rope was tightly tied to a hand reached out. Long, thin black fingers that shimmered in her suit’s work light. She looked directly at the hand as it wrapped around the rope. Illuminated the flesh? the rainbow shimmering flesh looked like scales. Separate distinct scales.

Briefly she thought of the rainbow scales of trout on Earth.

Then the hand yanked and she watched, helplessly calm, as the rope snapped further up the line. She began to drift, until the hand – alternating rainbow shimmer and darkness – pulled her lead.

It turned her away from the Crusoe and towards the black hole, towards ES1789.391, towards Eddie, as it was commonly called. The largest black hole ever discovered. In a region of space so empty of matter and starlight, they called it the Long Dark.

Still her adrenaline did not fire. She did not panic. The song in her ears told her everything would be okay. She knew it was going to be okay.

Join us, it sang. Join us and know peace.

Sonya opened her arms and was embraced by darkness, her suit shining its light one last time on a rainbow glimmer of eyes and sharp mouth.

The nanocarbonite suit ripped open, shredded easily by hands (teeth?) she couldn’t see. The sucking pull on her shirt made her tingle, sent boosebumps everywhere.

Her suit pumped air harder, trying to maintain pressure. The singing swelled and she didn’t care. Her shirt was torn and she felt the pull of suction on her bare skin. The sucking breeze.

And something sharp.

——————————————————

Well, that went on longer than I intended, but hey – fun stuff. Next week I’ll make a video of myself reading this or what not.

Let me know if you liked this new feature – if the idea of a Let’s Write Tumblr sounds good or not. Either way, I had fun. I see so many weird, interesting prompts on Tumblr (and elsewhere) but they just end up in my Pinterest boards or “liked” Tumblr spots. Better to give them some life, I think.

‘Til next time.

]]> https://shannawynne.com/2016/02/04/new-content-lets-write-tumblr/feed/ 0 1473 1 Shanna good-news-everyone LWT Feb 4, 16 one eternity later https://shannawynne.com/2016/01/27/the-forest-2016/ https://shannawynne.com/2016/01/27/the-forest-2016/#respond Wed, 27 Jan 2016 19:16:19 +0000 http://shannawynne.wordpress.com/?p=1298 Well, here it is…

There were 2 films I was excited to see in January. The Forest and The Boy. Albeit, until now I didn’t know that January was the time of the year production companies send horror films to die a quiet death. Putting a horror film out in January is essentially the Kevorkian method of euthanisizing a film. (Thanks, review I read for research! Learn something new every day.)

So, quick summs: One twin sister finds out other twin sister has gone missing in the Aokigahara forest in Japan, surrounding Mt. Fuji. This forest is also known as the Suicide Forest, and everyone has pretty much assumed other twin sister to be dead (by choice). Other sister “knows” she’s still alive through their twinastic connection and decides to get herself lost in the Suicide Forest to find her sister. Hilarity… I mean, horror ensues.

QUICK INFO DROP

Directed by: Jason Zada

Written by: Nick Antosca, Sarah Cornwell, Ben Ketai

Starring: Natalie Dormer, Natalie Dormer, Taylor Kinney (and assorted others deemed not important enough to get a mention on the Wiki page’s info drop)

What do I have to say about this film? It has some truly beautiful scenery – I want to go camping in this forest, ASAP. The forest itself has to be the 2nd prettiest character, but the best (and most deep) character of all.

Isn’t this beautiful? Don’t you want to lay a tent down in that gray fog?

While twins Sara and Jess were written as one-dimensional and Aiden’s “suspicious” reporter/tourist is pulled out of every video game/horror film we’ve seen with a “suspicious man” trope, the forest – Aokigahara – really steals the show.

How can a forest where this is a common find not steal the show?

There’s some backstory given about the forest, and how it developed the colloquial nickname “Suicide Forest.” Back in the day, families who were struggling would take sick and infirm members to the forest and abandon them there, particularly the elderly. The spirits of these abandoned loved ones grew angry and haunt the trees now, leading those who desire to commit suicide – or are hesitantly facing that penultimate question – into committing the act sooner, to appease the spirit’s rage.

The film never really explains better why the forest has become a haven for suicides – except to say that it’s a large forest and it’s easy to disappear into it, becoming lost and forgotten. There’s some delicate touching on the depression, fear, anxiety, and troubles that can lead some to choose to stray from the path. (The forest path, not some existential path, I mean.)

Perhaps what the film does best is repeat (nearly word for word) the behind-the-scenes featurette (online video/short doc) about Aokigahara.

Albeit, I think the 20 minute short film by VICE news (in 2012) is better in terms of connecting with the audience than the entirety of The Forest.

There’s some reveals about the twin’s history that plays a somewhat… No, it’s not important at all except as a device to allow the writers to “scare” the audience with shocking revelations and scary “hallucinations” Sara experiences in her search for her sister.

It’s repeated more than once that the forest will fuck with your head, especially if you’re sad – it will make you see things that aren’t real, to lead you deeper into the trees and closer to killing yourself (purposefully or not). Sara falls victim to these enough times to make you want to scream. Despite how intelligent Sara seems at the beginning, she transforms into the “maiden-in-distress” as soon as her feet touch the forest soil. Helpless and stupid.

Which is none of Natalie Dormer’s fault. Actually, upon realizing that the “sister” was actually a twin – and Natalie Dormer was in it TWICE, I was more than happy to put up with whatever bullshit for twice the Nat.

This is Queen Anne (and Queen Margaery) after all. In fact, a happy break time is called for:

Yup, ohawkguy. I’m good with that, too.

Aside from the pretty environment, the interesting history of Aokigahara and the Japanese spirit folklore, and Natalie of course, the only good takeaway I had was the obvious ending – but because I think this is the one time the film delves into depth and required thinking.

****** SPOILER TO FOLLOW *******

If you haven’t seen the film, and don’t want to spoil this very obvious conclusion, for your sake I will change the color to white. Highlight if you want to read.

The end of the film comes down to Sara facing her fears about the reveal of her parents (their murder/suicide death), that her sister saw their bodies and she didn’t. Then she runs into the trees, screaming for her sister and – OMG – seeing her. Jess has survived the last 5 days lost in the trees (there’s still no explanation for why she ventured into the forest alone in the first place, particularly prepared with a tent and supplies except a sketchy “she romanticized suicide”). Both begin running to the lights of the search party looking for them – but only Jess reaches it. Sara runs into a spirit, the same one that plagued her since she entered, only to realize she’s been convinced to kill herself through forest trickery. She is sucked into the ground – cut to Jess acknowledging that their twinastic connection has been severed. 

This is the moment, and the only one of which, I felt the film reached any depth. Reading between the obvious crayon lines, it appears as though the forest – which feels cheated by Jess’s survival (after all, a single day in the forest was enough to drive Sara to seeing hallucinations and losing her marbles) – has taken Sara’s life in exchange for Jess’s. I though this an interesting complexity. Jess is described through the film as traumatized following her parent’s death – and seeing their bodies and the extent of that horror – and as attempting suicide on at least two previous occasions. Yet despite this, she has managed to put aside the forest’s attempts to lead her astray. Her foray into the Suicide Forest only solidified her desire to live, while Sara’s journey revealed her weakness of spirit, and inherent sadness. 

Who really is the sister who has (had) it together? Was it Sara with her textbook fiance or Jess who dealt with her emotions openly, albeit not always healthily?

Ah, the things you contemplate while watching a film you really, really want to like because it has one of your favorite actresses in it (TWICE! Can I emphasize that enough? She’s in it TWICE!) and yet you’re bored out of your fucking gourd.

SIDENOTE: Where the fuck does “bored out of my gourd” come from? How can you be bored out of a pumpkin, squash, or other gourd? Is it based purely on rhyming ability? We must do better, people. “Bored out of my gourd” sucks.

So, there it is. The Forest isn’t really worth ticket money. Maybe Redbox bucks, but not 8.75 for bargain matinee at my local theater. (But at least I have enough to see The Boy later this week. I heard that one’s actually pretty good. Word of mouth from a coworker. We shall see.)

And Crimson Peak is finally on DVD. I missed seeing it in theater, and I’ve been waiting with bated breath. I really love Del Toro’s work. So expect to see an HDH about the red mountain film in the coming weeks.

‘Til next time.

Look! Something the film got right!

Or what is otherwise known as Goodnight, Mommy.

First, let me say I started watching this as a means of rinsing my mind after watching a different horror film that was good – but left my skin crawling (the EWW kind of skin crawling, like I needed a hot shower).

And rinse my palate it did! Goodnight, Mommy is an excellent tour-de-force of atmosphere, silence, and touching – disturbing – moments.

Know right off the bat, that if you want to watch it in English – that’s not happening. It’s subtitled. (I know some people that subtitles can be a deal breaker for unless anime is involved.)

A fast summary: Two boys, 9 year old twins, are enjoying idyllic summer days in the Austrian countryside when their mother returns home from hospital to recuperate from a somewhat(?) minor cosmetic facial surgery. But the boys suspect someone else has come home and taken their mother’s place. Havoc ensues.

QUICK INFO DROP

Directed by: Veronika Franz, Severin Fiala

Written by: Veronika Franz, Severin Fiala

Starring: Susanne Wuest, Elias Schwarz, Lukas Schwarz

This movie does a great job of building tension in long silent moments, with some truly beautiful shots of the home, the boys, the mother – all interacting with each other. Sometimes silently, sometimes not so silently.

Overall this film disturbed me – on so many levels. As a parent I was absolutely fucking terrified. What the fuck would I do if my kids did this? And, THOSE POOR BOYS! THEIR POOR MOTHER!! And just… ugh. Really?

The first 2/3rds of this film is like being in a dark room with the lights off. Standing next to the switch, listening carefully for clues – spooked out of your mind. The final third, the last act, is flicking the switch and realizing the truth – seeing the monster for what it is and knowing you’re done for.

So if you haven’t seen it, go see it. If you enjoy atmosphere, tense films with little need for gore or jump scares (although there are a few, but not intended as “BOO! We GOTCHA!” moments) – pick this film up ASAP. Redbox it, Amazon it, buy it, whatever you need to do. Make it happen, peeps.

This ends the portion of the review that exists without spoilers. So, without further adieu..

Generally, I avoid spoilers in my reviews at all costs. So you can enjoy the film as fresh as a summer daisy in a field of roses. (I don’t know where I was going with that metaphor. Enjoy the mental image.) I want you to have as close to the same experience as I had going into the film.

But this film… it requires discussion. So, I’m not saying it again – if you haven’t seen it, and don’t want spoilers, STOP READING NOW. Return later and discuss your thoughts and interpretation in the comment section with me.

As for my deeper thoughts… let’s go.

That’s a face only someone’s kids could lov– Oh, wait.

After watching, I immediately dived into the net for answers. There’s some questions you’ll definitely be left with. For example, WTF happened at the end? Who’s dead and who’s not? Psychosis or ghost?

I noticed that the Internet Legions were steadfastly leaning towards psychosis as the “answer” for everything.

Wait, do I need to backtrack here? Nah, if you’re reading this you’ve watched it by now and *hopefully* remember the film well enough to understand this direction I’m taking.

If not, a (superfluous?) recap:

The twins, Lukas and Elias, and their unnamed Mother are at odds through most of the film. Especially Lukas and Mother, whom Mother refuses to acknowledge – going so far as to refuse to give him food or water.

Overheard snippets of conversation between Mother and an unknown person on the phone suggest that Lukas may not actually be there, and be a delusional hallucination or psychosis that Elias cannot stop seeing. It’s revealed that there was a recent tragic accident, costing Lukas’s life, Elias’s sanity, and their parents marriage.

This backstory is actually the pivotal plot point of the film. It’s not that Mother comes home in bandages and looks different – it’s that Mother is tired of playing the “Lukas is alive” game with Elias and finally puts her foot down. Only Lukas isn’t ready to be forgotten, and as a voice in Elias’s ear, convinces his living brother to torture and eventually kill their mother.

Recap done. Back to theorizing.

As I said, much of the internet seems to go with the psychosis aspect – that Elias has lost touch with reality over his brother’s unexpected death and cannot let go. Going so far as to insist over and over again to his mother Lukas is alive, and needs an outfit set out for him, food, water, etc. until Mother breaks. When she cannot (and will not) play the game anymore, Elias’s delusion turns violent, leading to tragic consequences: Mother’s death – perhaps Elias’s as well – but an awkward (if happy?) reunion outside their burning home.

But that theory is boring. Plain ol’ dull-as-dishwater uninteresting. Then again, it wasn’t uninteresting for the other reviewers whose posts I read – because for many of them, they didn’t pick up on the clues that Lukas wasn’t real as soon as I did (at least, according to their words about when they realized Lukas was dead/not real and when I did).

There’s two scenes that revealed to me that Lukas was dead and either a delusion or maybe a ghost haunting his brother.

1) Elias is drinking a glass of juice Mother poured for him, and says to her “Lukas wants one, too.” But she refuses to give Lukas one, saying “If Lukas wants one, he can ask me himself.” Lukas doesn’t answer her, and after she walks away Elias slides his glass over so Lukas can finish it.

2) Shortly after the drink scene, the boys are getting ready for bed. Elias brushes his teeth, then Lukas does – USING THE SAME TOOTHBRUSH. At first I tried to brush this off as a “European” thing, but I know/knew better. That was strange.

Between these two scenes, I’d figured out Lukas wasn’t real. (I thought it became obvious when Mother declares she won’t play the game anymore, pointing out she wouldn’t leave out two sets of clothes (or allow Elias to do it if that’s who does it), and the brothers are thereafter seen wearing matching outfits.)

But I thought it created an even more interesting question – what if Lukas isn’t some delusional creation of Elias’s grief addled mind? What if he is a ghost, haunting the home – haunting Elias – and using his brother to torture the person he blames for his death? What if Lukas doesn’t even know he’s dead? Elias works very hard to keep up the illusion that Lukas is alive. What if he’s an angry, vengeful ghost who wants to hurt the woman who has abandoned him?

If that’s the case, he succeeds. Elias falters on so many occasions, nearly freeing his mother more than once. But it’s Lukas’s voice in his ear that compels him onward.

The ghost angle, which if true (though no doubt if presented to the film’s creators, they would say it’s always up to interpretation) makes this film… well, neither more terrifying nor more bearable. This film is pretty rough, no matter which way you interpret it’s plot lines and characters. Hard to watch, harder to swallow, and lingering – holy zombie Jesus will it linger.

This gives me the shivers just looking at it. They look like kids eyeing down that birthday cake – but we know better, don’t we?

The ghost thing is just a theory, anyway. Another different, unique way of viewing the film.

Since you’ve read my deeper thoughts about the film, I’d like to read yours. Share your theories and interpretations in the comments below. Much discuss, so theory.

And don’t forget to pick up a copy of The Rainbow Ranch while you’re at it. It’s not as disturbing as Goodnight, Mommy (unless you’re disturbed by satire that pulls the trigger at homophobic people and sheds new, rainbow-colored moonlight on the idea of an orgy under the full moon), but it’ll entertain for sure.

‘Til next time.

By the way, feel free to use any of the links below (Facebook, Twitter, etc.) to follow me around the web and stalk me through my cyber windows. I don’t mind an audience.

This movie was good. Summarized: it’s about a British couple moving into the Irish countryside, wherein they ignore all warnings and quickly learn that there’s more to the woods surrounding them.

QUICK INFO DROP

Directed by: Colin Hardy

Written by: Colin Hardy, Felipe Marino

Starring: Joseph Mawle, Bojana Novakovic, Michael McElhatton (there are others, but these are the 3 main stars)

I came across this film perusing one of the many horror-themed websites devoted to film, just clicky-clacking my way through the interwebs. The only thing that thrust this film to the top of the “To Watch for Hump Day Horror” list is the following image:

That screen grab alone had me chomping at the bit. What the fuck is reaching through that mirror/door/whatever the hell it is? That is some otherworldly shit. Fuck yeah I’m watching this.

I try to go into new films knowing as little as possible. I don’t think I even watched the trailer for this – the above picture alone was enough to pique my curiosity. And it was totally worth it! Not knowing too much about this film really elevates the experience. I had a vague idea it had something to do with the “wee folk,” or the “faie.” Aside from that, The Hallow had a completely blank slate to work with.

It worked fairly well. The film has a fast plot line – it gets in, and gets to it. There’s a subtle building of tension and atmosphere, with moments that make you grab your blanket/couch/pillow (whatever you grab) in anticipation.

The acting is superb. I though Joseph and Bojana were great in their roles as Adam and Clare, the couple moving away temporarily for Adam’s work as a conservation and “tree doctor.” Michael as Colm, the creepy neighbor seemingly behind the acts of terror affecting Adam and Clare, is the second best. (Joseph brings a fantastic life and vibrancy to Adam.)

The story touches on some unique aspects of the faie, using science to try to explain certain characteristics. The couple have chemistry and is believably entangled. Their actions don’t make you want to scream at the screen for being morons.

Overall I really enjoyed it. The climax of the film had some truly disturbing, creepy moments – and even a few heart warming ones. I am myself on the way to the hardware store on the dark side of town to purchase a rusty, used scythe.

You never know when you’ll need a cool-ass looking torch.

The Hallow is great. You’ll enjoy it if you’re a fan of the genre. I absolutely LOVE that it’s a story about the faie – the faie folklore is dark and gritty. There’s an incredible amount of potential there – and it’s fantastic to see someone utilizing it.

Up next Hump Day – Goodnight, Mommy. From the whispers I overheard on the net, it’s going to be amaze-fucking-balls.

‘Til then.

Yeah, I went to Ned Stark. Wanna fight about it?

All jokes aside, here is a new year. 2015 passed too damn fast if you ask me. Especially since I spent 70% of it sleeping.

No lie there. And not even the good, procrastinating-lazy-butthole kind of sleeping.

I started GREAT last year right… then my health took a turn mid-way through and after that it was a downhill slide into oblivion.

Thankfully there is light at the end of this tunnel. My health is slowly improving – and with no foreseeable issues in the future. (Crosses fingers…. Hey, why aren’t you crossing yours?)

Unfortunately being ill meant that I didn’t get as much accomplished this year as I planned. But I do believe that each day is a fresh opportunity.

Today is.. okay, it’s 8.30pm where I am so this evening is the end of a new day. And tomorrow is another.

The future holds lots of fun surprises. Writing, blogging, videos (ooh! You know you want to see my face making words from its mouth hole!), and more.

Get ready to see SO MUCH MORE of me – words, images, face holes, and all that grossness in-between.

‘Til then.

]]> https://shannawynne.com/2016/01/02/new-year-new-m-gurgle-blork-blagh/feed/ 0 1132 Shanna Yeah, I went to Ned Stark. Wanna fight about it? https://shannawynne.com/2015/04/19/its-a-human-issue/ https://shannawynne.com/2015/04/19/its-a-human-issue/#respond Mon, 20 Apr 2015 03:23:41 +0000 http://shannawynne.wordpress.com/2015/04/19/its-a-human-issue/ Type AJ Negative:
One good thing about having my own blog is that I can talk about any topic I want to. I don’t have to ask…]]>

Perhaps its coincidence – or perhaps the universe’s sense of humor – that I’m posting this just after Indiana’s highly controversial “religious freedom” law was signed by Gov. Pence. Of which I won’t comment. But instead let The Rainbow Ranch do my commenting for me.

Why did I write a satire about weregays and werelesbians running wild and free in the pale moonlight?

Because I’m personally touched by this topic. Also because when I’m driving along the highway in the dark, and a ranch is illuminated by the full moon, weird musings about “free range gays” enter my head.

But mostly the former.

I grew up with this really wonderful, really awesome person. She was my little sister. I took care of her, and she took care of me. We fought, as most siblings do, but without her I would never have made it to school on time a day in my life. And I would never have learned how to kick kids butts as well as I did.

Because my little sister, as a very young child, preferred to dress as a boy. She wore boys swim suits. She wore boys suits – those adorable little suits you see in the children’s department – to school. All through kindergarten. Until she was told to tone it down – no more suits, though she could still dress tom-boyishly. She never wore skirts or got excited about frills. Though she did miss her suits.

And into high school and college, she tried. She tried so hard to fit in, to be “normal.” She dated a few guys, but eventually realized she was homosexual. She came out as a lesbian – to no one’s real surprise – and everything seemed to be getting better for her.

Except that we lived in Oklahoma. And there were (are) places there I still wouldn’t go with my biracial children alone. And to think she could be fired from her job for being gay? For loving who she was genetically programmed to love?

I’d never seen my sister happier than after she came out.

At least, until she called one day and said, “I’ve realized that I can’t live as a woman anymore – I need to transition and become who I’ve always been” and told me her his new name. Which wasn’t just a masculine version of his old name. A choice I still think really represents how much he’s embracing his identity as a man, as himself, over the social expectations and pressures of the gender he was born as.

My brother is the bravest person I know. And a year or so ago when Governor Mary Fallin of Oklahoma declared she would rather abolish marriage than see same-sex marriage given approval under her watchful eye, The Rainbow Ranch poured out of me in a matter of weeks.

What had been a strange musing about a Texas ranch with a rainbow sign turned into a humorous, satirical take on an issue that – for some insane reason – continues to be debated and discussed and argued over every day.

My brother was once a lesbian, and naturally so at that. There had never, ever been a doubt in my mind that he wasn’t straight. And I never cared. When he called and said he was transitioning from female to male, that too seemed as it should be. And the joy and happiness that I’ve listened to grow in his voice as his testosterone takes effect, and he has to shave every day, and he becomes the man on the outside that he always knew he was on the inside… I couldn’t be a prouder or happier sister.

It would just be great if he could be this open about who he is in his job, in the city he lives in, without fear of rejection, discrimination, or hate.

This is the origin of The Rainbow Ranch.

A late night drive, a full moon shining on a rainbow sign, and a wonderful human being who could use a little more love, definitely way more tolerance, and if possible, acceptance.

To my goofy, loving, amazing brother, I just wanted to say – my life wouldn’t be the same without you. Thanks for being my brother and being you. (And to his ever wonderful and loving girlfriend, where would I be without your glorious wonderfulness in my life?)

I’m working on this new story right now – I’ll save title and cover release for later – and I realized as I was working on character backgrounds and what not, that there was something creepy about how this story came about.

First, for the writers out there, I know y’all have woken up at 2, 3, 4 am with an idea you JUST HAD TO WRITE DOWN. So, y’all know how this goes.

This story idea came to me in a fairly well fleshed out dream. I got up at 3 am, mistitled the document “draem 4/16” and poured out 4 pages of story skeleton and fleshy character bits. Two character names came to me in this dream. Rick and Eloise. My two protagonists.

What’s creepy is… I looked up the meaning of the name Eloise, and it means FAMOUS IN WAR.

Oddly enough, her character has to regularly fight for her survival. So having a name that means “Famous in War” is suitably fitting.

Isn’t it weird that I happened to have dreamed the perfect name for this character? Especially since the only Eloise I remember is from that French movie called “Eloise” and I had no idea what that name meant? (If asked, I would have said “French girl with straight bangs.”)

Anyway, back to our regularly scheduled shenanigans now. Did y’all have a happy St. Patrick’s Day where you’re at? Because up here in the Northeast they take that day super-serial. A guy showed up to the Hubby’s work dressed in a kilt.

Wish I had a kilt.

‘Til next time.

Tony Robbins talks in this video about focus and how to attain your goals. He says:

If your body’s not where you want it to be, I tell you there’s one simple reason: it’s not your focus. No, no, I focus on it. I focus all the time on how fat I am. NO. You see, if you focus on crashing into the pole – trying not to – the more you try not to, what you focus on, that’s where the energy goes, that’s where you go. We all know that. But what I’m saying is: Focus on what you want, not what you don’t want.

Now, if you remember where we left off, great. If not go read it here.

But that was me. I wasn’t focusing on what I wanted, I kept focusing on what I didn’t want. I didn’t want to hate my body anymore. I didn’t want to be depressed and anxious anymore. I didn’t want to hurt over my stillborn daughter anymore. I didn’t want to fail as a writer.

That’s where my energy went. For years. I withdrew from my writing groups because I could feel the pressure on me (coming from within and without) to succeed. And I didn’t want to fail.

A good friend, a wonderful writer, told me then in 2007, when I was but a delicate and tender twenty-two years old, that she knew one day I’d be successful. Because I had so much talent already at my age there’s no way I couldn’t be successful.

That was 8 years ago. I haven’t succeeded yet. Because I kept focusing on how much I didn’t want to fail. My depression just kept getting worse because I didn’t want it to. My anxiety, my weight, my confidence – nothing was going in the direction I want it to because I was more focused on it going wrong than I was on it going right.

Then last year, after moving to Connecticut and just having enough of being the person I didn’t want to be anymore, I got help. I saw a psychiatrist, I got a therapist. I got the help I needed.

The difference it’s made is… well, incalculable.

November can come and go, and I can grieve my daughter without spiraling into a black hole that I can’t crawl out of. I can put on weight, or take it off, and it doesn’t matter because I’m not putting my energy into my pant size. Instead I put it into how many push ups I can do. How much weight I can deadlift, squat, and press. (Which is a lot, by the way.)

I’ve learned to turn aside from my fears. Because if I’m going to crash, I’m going to crash. There’s nothing I can do about failing. But I can get up when it’s over and keep going.

So, back to the first video (embedded here again for your convenience.)

Neil deGrasse Tyson talks about how Michael Jordan just IS Michael Jordan (at about the 3.40 mark). I watch enough sports, and get stuck watching ESPN enough, to know that there’s a war right now between the “Who’s more like Mike?” crowd. Is it Lebron or is it Kobe?

But they’re not like Mike. Nobody can be like Mike. And while my personal favorite is Lebron, he’ll never be what Mike was to basketball. Just the fact that they’re comparing them at all says everything. Lebron, Kobe, Derrick, Harden — no one can be Michael Jordan. Not for decades to come. Not until Michael Jordan is just a footnote.

That’s because like everything else, there’s history and there’s the present. H.P. Lovecraft changed horror. Edgar Allan Poe changed horror. Charles Dickens, Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and the list goes on… They changed writing. In their time. But no one says “Stephen King is the new Lovecraft.” Because Lovecraft has become a footnote while Stephen King is NOW. But they do say that Bentley Little could be the next King, and similarly about other current authors. Why? Because Stephen King, in this little niche genre, is our version of Michael Jordan.

And for a long time, I wanted to be name to name with King. I wanted to sit nestled tightly next to Little, Lumley, Keene, Koontz, Jackson, and so forth. I wanted to be one of them.

But listening to that video, listening to Neil deGrasse Tyson’s words… I realized I don’t want to be them. I don’t want to be counted among them. I don’t want to be compared to Stephen King. I don’t ever want someone to say “Wow, she could take over for Stephen King” or any of the blurbs written on covers about how this or that author (male or female) will one day top the horror genre as King has and still does.

I want to be Shanna Wynne. I want to stand alone.

So I’m calling it, like Babe Ruth on the mound. I am going to knock this ball right outta the park.

And no need to keep an eye on me. I’ll already be there. Because my focus is there. And so am I.

And so should you. Be YOU. Hit for the parking lot and don’t look back when you’re running for home. There’s enough space in the night sky for each of us to be a star.

Also, help me be a star. Go pick up The Rainbow Ranch for under a buck. Help a sister out, alright?