Saturday, December 17, 2005

Kim Ki-Duk's Bad Guy

Kim Ki-Duk has become one of my favorite directors recently, all of his films I've seen have been good, but it's with 3 Iron and Samaritan Girl that I've seen how great his stuff can be. Those are also two of his most recent films. Bad Guy is an earlier work, from 2001 (though it was just released here this year). It's not as emotionally potent as 3 Iron or Samaritan Girl, but it's still extremely powerful and clearly lays the roots for a lot of his later work, dealing with one of his favorite themes, prostitution.

One of the best things about Kim Ki-Duk's work is the way the films take you on a really sustained emotional journey. The journey that Sun-Hwa is similar to what the main character of Samaritan Girl goes through, but here it's even darker. By the end of the film, she's a completely different person than she was at the beginning, but unlike most movies, her arc isn't something moved forward by her own action, it's more that she's manipulated into a bad situation and just drifts along facing the ever increasing misdeeds done unto her, until at the end the person she was is basically dead.

I love the opening scenes, the casual disdain that Sun-Hwa has for Han-Ki. He clearly sees in her the woman he lost, but she sees only a brute, and his previous emotional trauma, as well as a desire to confront her disdain for him, is what prompts him to kiss her, an action that ultimately leads to a really degrading experience for Han-Ki.

Looking back, seeing Sun-Hwa is clearly emotionally traumatic for Han-Ki. At first you assume it's just the fact that she's a beautiful woman that would attract him, however, it was clearly about trying to recapture what he lost with the woman he once knew. So, being so utterly rejected, he decides to seek revenge. He manipulates the events with the wallet to get her to take it and put her into debt.

It's interesting that his plan for enslaving her relies on her own inherent darkness. Seeing her rip the page out of the book, he knows that she will take the wallet. Though she refuses her own boyfriend's advances, there's clearly a dark streak in her. I think she's caught between her own desire to act in the darkness and society's morals which tell her that that sort of behavior is unacceptable. I'm not saying that at the end of the film she gets what she deserves or wants, rather that in every person lurks a darkness, and Han-Ki preys on it to get what he wants.

Judging from this and Samaritan Girl, prositution in Korea is much more accepted than it is here. I'm not sure about the legality, but clearly it's not as outrageous as it would be here for a girl to go into prostitution. Still, for a college student, it's not the expected path. Watching Sun-Hwa gradually acclimate herself to the prositute life puts the viewer in an uneasy position. The way we've grown accustomed to narrative, she would somehow take the bad fate she's been given and turn it to her advantage, like rally the girls to change things, or fight to get out of the life.

When you first see Sun-Hwa looking so sad on display in the window, you feel bad for her, and the scene where she has her first client is almost painfullly awkward. I found myself wishing that she would just embrace the life she's been forced into, to try to please the clients and play the game like the other girls. Yet, when she finally does, it basically marks the death of the person she was. The critical turning point of the film is when she starts to actively solicit business and is told by a client that she really seemed to like it. In choosing to embrace this life, she has given up any chance of returning to what she was, and that's incredibly sad. The film, though the ending has a feeling of catharsis, is ultimately the story of someone who loses the chance to live a normal life because of the cruel actions of another person. It's an incredibly sad story when you step back and look at it.

Concurrently with all this, we've got the story of Han-Ki. I didn't find his stuff as interesting as Sun-Hwa, largely because a lot of stuff is unclear. Maybe I just missed it, but the whole thing with Dal-Su came out of nowhere. And also, he received so many life threatening injuries, it was a bit ridiculous how he kept coming back. Normally I try to just roll with what the movie is doing, but in this case, it got a bit too much by the fourth life threatening injury. Kim's films create such insular worlds that little things like that can really break the spell of the film.

However, his basic conflict is phenomenal. This is a guy who's clearly once been in love, but buried that and embraced his life as a low rent gangster pimp. He seeks revenge on Sun-hwa because she refuses to see him as a human being. Clearly, he's got some self loathing issues, most notably when he beats his friend. This could be seen as both an extension of his love for Sun-hwa, he doesn't want her sullied by this guy, as well as a desire to punish himself. With his other friend in prison, beating this guy leaves him free to move on.

The scees where Han-ki watches Sun-hwa through the two way mirror are absolutely phenomenal. The black void lighting, only broken by the embers of a burning cigarette, his face reflected in the mirror, watching Sun-Hwa's gradual degredation. I love the way Kim's frame create multiple planes of action. You can watch Han-Ki's face and the action with Sun-hwa simultaneously, in the same way that a number of scenes with Han and his crew are set so that we can see Sun and her crew soliciting customers in the background, two stories happening at once.

Over the course of the film, it's unclear how Sun feels about Sun. Clearly, he has some affection for her, and likely a lot of guilt about what he did to her. Yet, at the same time he sits watching her have sex with other men with little attempt to stop her or protect her. The one night they do spend together is chaste, with her on the floor next to him. There's the beautiful moment where he fixes her hook. It seems that he has little actual sexual desire himself, certainly not since the woman he loved killed herself.

The scene with Han and Sun on the beach is my favorite in the film. I'm assuming there's some sort of memory/dream crossing with reality, since we see the woman going into the water, yet Han makes no attempt to stop her, indicating this is something that's already happened. The music in that scene is phenomenal. Kim uses music sparingly, but he'll frequently use a song multiple times, lending it greater meaning within the context of the story, and his music choice is always impeccable. The scene here when Sun reaches for the glass is stunning because such a small action has so much significance. Sun is finally going to engage violence, seek revenge against the person who broke her, yet she is unable to go through with it. She finds herself held captive still.

The scene leads us to believe that we'll finally get the emotional payoff we've been waiting for all film, but it's quickly undermined and rather than any sort of resolution, Sun just gets carried along on her path. That's the way the whole film goes, there's no specific turning points, just a bunch of choices that eventually lead to Sun's change. It's a stunning physical transformation, the fresh faced girl from the beginning of the movie is completely worn down, with bags under her eyes, hidden only by garish makeup at the end.

That transformation is just one of the stunning visual elements. Kim moves the camera sparingly, choosing instead to create reallly strong still frames. As mentioned before, the stuff with the mirror is fantastic, as is the whole visual design of the street. I love the way the windows are constructed in such a way as to fully commodify the girls, they're on display to be leered at and bought by customers, who view them not as people but as commodities. The contrast between the showy neon streets and the drab bedroom is also effective. You never see the two environments interact, it's like the glamourous outfits and appearances of the outside are rendered moot when it comes time to do the act itself. I love how garish the wigs and color coordinated clothes she puts on are, the implication being that each night she dresses up as something else, designed solely to appeal men, and with each disguise she further loses touch with who she was to begin with.

The other strong visual motif was the pictures. They were used brilliantly when we see her face in one empty picture and a client's in the other. I also like the way it initially seems to be just a visual metaphor but then pays off in the end, giving us some information that completely changes the narrative. And finally, another standout scene is when Sun-Hwa breaks through the mirror to discover Han-Ki, very powerful visually.

The ending of the film is troubling. As I mentioned before, the stuff with the gang and the prison is a bit weak and distracts from the core relationship at the center of the film. Also, this is definitely a film with a few false endings, moments where you think it's over but comes back.

The difficult thing about the film is that the final message seems to be that Sun-Hwa has been irreprably damaged, and as a result, she must continue to be a prostitute. When she goes to the prison and yells at Han-Ki, it's not just the fact that he initially put her in this situation, and caused her a lot of pain, it's that he killed the person she was. This is the last moment of real emotional engagement we see, after this she essentially gives up and consigns herself to a life of prostitution.

When she's out on her own, she ends up having sex with the truck driver, and as a result, she's drawn back to Han-Ki. At first, I thought that they were going to have a relationship, run away from it all and be together, but we don't even get that. Instead, he sets her up as a travelling prostitute, working seaside communities, and though they are together, they're both still completely alone, Sun-Hwa is left to only imagine the life she could have had.

The film is very powerful, confronting the audience with dark events that refuse to give you easily resolution. You want Sun-Hwa to do something, to come alive, but she can't, she's been beaten by the life she's leading, and she can never be the person she used to be again. Han-Ki at first sees in her an innocence and longing for something better, but ultimately ends up bringing her down to his level instead of elevating her. Kim's stuff is always tough, but this may be the darkest yet. In The Isle, at least the two of them were together, and at the end of Samaritan Girl, she may have been through prostitution, but she was ultimately cleansed. This is no such salvation for Sun-Hwa.

The film contains all of Kim's favorite elements: prostitution, prison, water and graphic violence as emotional punctuation. I think he's one of the world's best filmmakers because, like David Lynch, his films aren't easy, there are enigmas, both narrative and moral to deal with and you leave his films needing to discuss and analyze them. They spur more thought rather than leaving everything cleanly tied up. That's why it's frequently in the analysis of the film that the depths are discovered, it's the second and third viewings where you can really enjoy the movie. And Kim is also a stunning visual composer. His frames are composed to tell a story, using visuals rather than words to convey narrative, the wordless emotional connections between people far more important than the vagaries of speech.

Thursday, December 15, 2005

X-Men 230-239

Another chunk of X-Men issues down, and at this point, I'm actually starting to get near the end of the Claremont run. Back in the 100s, it seemed like this run would never end, but now, forty issues away, the once vast expanse of issues now looks shockingly narrow. I've been reading this stuff since August, and it's odd to think that I won't have any more Claremont to read. Now, I could just keep going and read the non-Claremont stuff, but I really feel like the characters are so uniquely his that I have no desire to see what happens to them after he was tossed off the book. Plus, it's pricey and annoying to keep picking up these back issues, so this provides a good logical point to stop at.

Anyway, on to the book itself. This chunk of issues starts with further clarification of the X-Men's current status quo, based in Australia, but because of Gateway, they're able to go anywhere in the world. Having Gateway function as an all purpose transporter weakens the impact of the X-Men's isolation. With him, they're still able to go to the States and check in on the people they left there. The fact that the two four issue storylines in this chunk of issues take place off of Australia means that there's not too much significance to being based there. I suppose the idea was to give them a way to move around as a covert strike team, per their new mission statement in issue 229.

However, the fact that they're a covert strike team trying to hide their identities, yet still wear the exact same uniforms is rather nonsensical. I feel a tension between the demands of remaining the identifiable X-Men and exploring the potential of this new premise, and that tension is never satisfactorally resolved. Ultimately, the book feels basically the same, and only occasionally do they mention that they're a strike team again. Plus, the fact that Psylocke can wipe peoples' memories basically allows them to avoid any legitimate struggle in keeping their identity secret.

230 is largely designed to set up the new status quo, and to do a Christmas story. Christmas stories are usually cheesy, but this one works pretty well, largely because you don't even realize it's a Christmas thing until the end. It's not a great issue, but it certainly does what it sets out to do.

231 is a bit weaker, largely because it's primarily concerned with Ilyana and storylines that were presumably developing in New Mutants at the time. While I commend the attempt to keep strong continuity between the books, this story would probably be more at home in New Mutants. Even though it features Colossus, he's primarily there to react to what's up with Ilyana, rather than instigating things on his own.

The issue sets up the basic conundrum of how the X-Men can help the people they love if they can't even let them know they're alive, however, it undermines that conundrum by making Ilyana believe she had summoned a spirit version of Colossus. So, the entire dramatic point of the issue is rendered moot. This is another thing that Joss picked up from Claremont. Look at the episode 'Ted.' Rather than having Buffy have to deal with the fact that her desire to keep her parents together led to her accidentally killing her mother's boyfriend, they undermine the consequences by having him be a robot. So, the character goes through the emotional experience, but it feels like an emotional cheat because of what we find out later. That's what this issue feels like, an emotional cheat for Ilyana. However, there is some fun stuff in it, most notably Colossus' attempts to act llike a ghost, and I'd imagine that this sets up stuff that will come to a head in Inferno.

The next chunk of issues is concerned with the brood. The original brood storyline while a bit nonsensical set up almost all the issues from the brilliant Paul Smith era. This time, rather than aping Alien, Claremont does a riff on zombie movies, with the X-Men battling the alien among us. I don't think this storyline is particularly successful. It goes over the same territory as the previous story with the brood, i.e. is it ethical to kill them? And Havok goes through the same trauma that Storm did back then.

On the whole, the storyline is just a bunch of events without any really strong character relevance until the end. I did like in the last issue how Claremont upended the intolerant preacher cliche and instead had a preacher's faith rejuvenated through the intervention of the X-Men. There was a very cool moment where Wolverine erupts from under the stage and proceeds to kill a brood, along with a great cheesy line, something like "Ben Franklin said there's only two things certain in life...and this ain't taxes." Brilliant. The ideological conflict Wolverine and Storm have over killing is interesting, and one of the few dividers in their otherwise mutuallly respectful relationship.

The Genosha storyline follows next. Genosha has gone on from these humble beginnings to become a crucial part of X-mythology. They've seriously just been redoing Claremont's stuff for fifteen years now, even Claremont himself is. In this era, he's throwing out a bunch of incredible concepts each issue, that sense of constant invention is part of what makes the book such interesting reading. Anyway, the Genosha stuff has a mystery structure and it takes a while for things to really start up. Like the brood, this storyline is bogged down in a bit too much exposition. It takes a while to get to the real meat of things, though the payoff in the last issue is strong.

The most interesting stuff going on through all these issues is with Maddy Pryor. I think in every one of these reviews I've talked about how she's my favorite character, and that's definitely the case in this bunch of issues. Infuriated by Scott leaving her, Maddy apparently strikes a bargain with a demon to help her find her son. I really liked the dream sequence she has, where Scott takes her apart to rebuild Jean Grey. On a story level, it works great, but it's also a nice meta commentary on what's happened to the character. That's actually a big part of what's cool about the character, she had this storyline starting, but then editorial came along and brought back Jean Grey, abandoning her just like Scott does in the actual book. It's basically indefensible what he does, and if you separate editorial mandate from things, the character should really be punished for the awful choices he made. Luckily, this aspect of the character is finally addressed in Morrison's run, which takes the character in a really interesting direction.

Besides Maddy, the storyline is bit heavy handed with its mutant as slave allegory. The concepts are cool, but as played out, it's a bit too preachy, particularly in the father son conflict with the genegineer. The thing I do like is the ambiguity at the end. The X-Men may have won their battle, but they basically acknowledge that this place is not going to heal easy. It's deeply screwed up and a little victory can't heal it.

Across this chunk of issues, I noticed a lot more pointless captioning from Claremont. During the Paul Smith era, he seemed to check a lot of the exposition, but it's been coming back. I think part of it was editorial mandate, but do we really need to hear it mentioned in every issue that Wolverine has an adamantium skeleton. And too often he introduces the characters and their powers, you should be able to figure them out from what's going on in the action.

So, after a bit of drift, things come back on track with issue 239, the issue that marks the start of the Inferno crossover. I got the Inferno TPB a long time ago, like six or seven years, and read it then, but I don't remember much of it, and at the time I remember being very confused. So, it's still basically new to me. Inferno was apparently designed to be the crossover to end all crossovers, to wipe the slate clean, so things could move forward in the X books. With 239, we see the return of Mister Sinister, a cool looking villain who seems quite menacing. The issue is framed by Sinister playing with statues of the X-Men, lamenting the fact that now that they're dead he'll never have the chance to find these potential worthy opponents.

This issue marks a return to some of Claremont's greatest strengths, with a largely character and relationship based issue. Here, Storm finds out that Jean Grey is alive, prompting to rage at Wolverine who has now for a long time, but didn't tell anyone. I find it a bit ridiculous that they would never have heard about X-Factor and made the connection between that team and the original X-Men. However, it still makes for a good scene when Storm flies Wolverine into the sky and drops him down.

The best part of the issue is Madelyne Pryor and Havok. It makes a lot of sense for these two to come together, both were rejected by people they loved, and they each have a sense of inferiority, that they are the replacements for Scott and Jean rather than legitimate people in their own right. It's got so much twisted potential, particularly when these two meet up with Scott. He'll obviously be furious, but at the same time what right does he have to dictate what Madelyne does considering how he betrayed her. The writing when the two of them finally get together is really strong, both of them know what they're doing is wrong, but they do it anyway.

And on top of that there's some fun stuff with Dazzler and Longshot, who go out to a bar and generally have fun together. Claremont's strength is never in plot based storytelling. Anyone can string together a bunch of events, but he is at his best when he's creating character conflicts and letting them play out. I love the way that these basic relationship conflicts are amplified by the superpowers involved. It's the same thing with Buffy, using the superpowers to turn emotional conflict into earth threatening crisis. So, Madelyne's desire to get her son back doesn't just lead to her going slightly crazy, it turns her into a dark-powered being on a perilous quest for vengeance, a vengeance that will apparently culminate in Inferno.

Judging from the letter columns and promotional stuff in the books, Inferno was heavily hyped, so it would make sense that the previous issues sort of meander along, leading us there. However, if 239 is any indication, Inferno should bring the book back to Claremont's strengths. I'm excited to see how things turn out.

Monday, December 12, 2005

Work of Directors: The Top 21

Having now seen most of the stuff from the second Work of Directors series, I figured it was time to do a summary of my favorite videos from the seven DVDs that have been released so far. I love these discs, since they offer so much quality filmmaking in short doses, really exciting stylistic jumps in both editing and cinematography. So, here's a countdown of the top 21 videos.

21. Radiohead - 'Street Spirit' (Glazer): This video has the advantage of being for one of my favorite songs, a beautiful composition. The video features gorgeous black and white photography and a lot of interesting time lapse stuff. Even though there's cool split screen work, like with the throwing of water and one Thom jumping over a stick that the other Thom is waving, the strongest image is the extreme closeup on Thom Yorke's face. It's an elegaic video, fitting the song it was made for. Unfortunately, Jonathan Glazer's disc only had eight videos on it, this was the only one to make it on the list.



20. The White Stripes - 'Fell in Love with a Girl' (Gondry): This is the infamous lego video, which, like a lot of Gondry's stuff, is a stunning technical achievement. Everyone I've shown to says something to the effect of "That must have been very annoying to make," and that's probably true, but it's worth it. I love how you can see the lego base sometimes in the video, giving you more of a feel that this really is legos, not just a cool effect, because some of the stuff later in the video, like the faces walking away from each other, it's tough to believe it was really an individual bunch of blocks.



19. Johnny Cash - 'Hurt' (Romanek): This is considered by a lot of people to be the best music video of all time, or at least the most serious use of the form. It's a really powerful video, you can see how old and frail Johnny is, his hand shaking as he defiantly pours the cup of wine on the table. My favorite part is towards the end, when he cuts in clips of Jesus being nailed on the cross, the hammer echoing the heavy beats in the music. Considering how soon he died after the video, this feels like a perfect summation of Cash's life, and all the good and bad present therein. I haven't seen 'Walk the Line,' but I doubt anything in it is as powerful as this three minute video.



18. Aphex Twin - 'Come to Daddy' (Cunningham): Chris Cunningham's collaboration with Aphex Twin produced two of the videos on the list. This video is pretty disturbing, most notably the really odd midgets/children with the face of Richard James. The image of the monster coming out of the TV and yelling at the old lady is fantastic and the whole video has a post-apocalyptic disturbing intensity about it.



17. Chemical Brothers - 'Elektrobank' (Jonze): This is Jonze's gymnast video. It features a great performance from Sofia Coppola (who also puts in a really strong performance in Sednaoui's video 'Sometimes Salvation,' she's definitely one of the coolest people in existence today) as a gymnast. The video is pretty cool on the whole, despite some obvious doubling on the actual gymnastic sequences, however it's one moment of perfect music and visual cohesion. About 3/4s through the video, Coppola is in pain, fighting a leg injury and she pauses for a moment, before her face turns to steel and she goes right into a nasty tumbling routine as the song goes into this hard industrial breakdown, taking the song deeper than it had been before. The visual fits perfectly with the music, and this one moment makes the video a total success.



16. Audioslave - 'Cochise' (Romanek): This is another video that's sold on one big moment. The first minute or so is the band going up an elevator, all the while the music slowly building. They reach the singer who's already standing on top of the building and as they get their instruments the music explodes with a nasty guitar riff and the sky explodes with a massive fireworks display. After a minute of buildup, it's a phenomenal release and the rest of the video is propelled by this one stunning moment. The fireworks are all beautiful, but it's really that initial explosion that makes the video work. It's a great example of a director really using the song's properties to make the video great.



15. Bjork - 'All is Full of Love' (Cunningham): Bjork has done a lot of great videos, but I would consider this her best, a story of two robots in love. The most notable thing about the video is the stunning robots that Cunningham created, they look completely real, watching the making of you can see the CG enhancement, but in the video, it's completely believable. The way he used Bjork's face on the robot is stunning as well. The really impressive thing here is the fact that it's such a warm video, robots and Cunningham are both typically cold, but here, you really feel their love and the moment when they kiss causing a shower of sparks is a beautiful note to close the video on.



14. Mirwais - 'I Can't Wait' (Sednaoui): Stephane produces some of the most visually stunning stuff I've ever seen, particularly in his two collaborations with Mirwais. This video has a lot of subtext, in the way it shows all sorts of people 'phasing' out of Mirwais, his identity constantly in flux. I love the constantly changing identity, particularly in the head on shot of the body changing from person to person. It's a great song and the video contributes to its atmosphere with a lot of bizarre surreality.



13. Nine Inch Nails - 'Closer' (Romanek): Speaking of bizarre, this is a video that takes place in a really odd space, that's simultaneously past and future. It's full of so many crazy images, the monkey on a cross, the beating heart, the bald men in suits. It's got a freakshow from hell vibe, and a very dark cool. I love Trent's goggles and the image of his body rotating in the air. I love the editing on the final driving instrumental section Plus, the final image of Reznor swinging through the air, hitting the final notes of the song's melody on a mini-piano is fantastic.



12. Chemical Brothers - 'Let Forever Be' (Gondry): Gondry's work is frequently concerned with the difference between exciting dream/fantasy worlds and the mundane everyday. This video is the best depiction of that, starting with grainy digital video footage of a woman waking up and a bum on the street, then transforming into a gaudy, technicolor fantasy world where she seems to be the star of a Busby Berkley style old Hollywood musical. the transitions between the worlds are ingenious, the visuals here are phenomenal. I love the dancers with giant masks of the woman's head, or the kalidoscopic image of the bum on drums seen four times in one frame. It reads great as her daydreaming during a boring ordinary day, or just as a series of really odd images.



11. Oui Oui - 'Ma Maison' (Gondry): This is an early Gondry video and it's completely nuts. The band is dressed up as bugs, scurrying through underground tunnels, pollinating flowers, and fleeing from a giant foot out to stomp on them. I love the look of the bugs, with huge goggles and helmets. Despite being live action, the video feels like stop motion, and the stunning sets contribute to that feel of a world too odd to be real.



10. Daft Punk - 'Da Funk' (Jonze): This is more a short film set to music than a music video, what with its extensive dialogue, but it's still on the list because the song does a great job of accompanying the action. This is one of the rare videos where Jonze lets down his typical jokey, pop culture referencing style and instead engages in some weightier emotional material. It's a surreal video because the main character is a dog, but that's never commented on. He goes through the city and people disrespect him, but not because he's not human, rather because he's a newcomer to the city and seems unable to function in the demanding environment. The scenes with Beatrice and Charles are painfully awkward at first, then warm, and then tragic when he can't get on the bus. What is the meaning of the jukebox he can't let go of? It's nonsensical, and yet is perfectly representative of the issues that people carry around. He's trying to turn down or let go of that which is holding him back, and yet he just can't, he has to keep carrying it around instead of moving forward.



9. Aphex Twin - 'Windowlicker' (Cunningham): This video is a rare example of something that's both incredibly disturbing and rather funny. The video is a parody of rap videos, starting with the long opening skit featuring two wannabe gangsters using the words "nigga" and "bitch" in every sentence. They encounter two women, but are quickly bumped away by an absurdly long limousine, inside of which sits a dapper Richard James. From there, the video proper begins and it is disturbing. Cunningham draws attention to the depiction of women in these videos by doing a typical booty video, only putting Richard James' face on the women, so their bodies are the same, but their faces are disturbing. This disconnect is really odd to experience. If you thought James was scary on a bunch of midgets, check out this video for something even more disturbing. The real James does some funny tap dance work, and things amp up to him popping the cork on a bottle of champagne and spraying it on the women, an action that may possibly have a double meaning. The video seems to take place in an odd alterna-world, and that's one of its greatest advantages. It's like nothing else I've ever seen and though it's definitely disturbing, once you get past the surface, it's also hilarious in its excess.



8. Kylie Minogue - 'Come into My World' (Gondry): This video is a technical marvel. We start with Kylie taking a walk around her neighborhood, the camera rotating around following her until she returns to where she started and another Kylie walks out of the building. Watching things build to the finale where there's not only four Kylies, but also four of everyone else in the town is amazing, and making things even more stunning is the fact that there's no cuts in the video. It's a dazzling technical achievement and a great example of a video that starts out small, but continually ups the stakes. It's also great for repeat viewing so you can notice the subtle interactions between the different Kylies. The effects are totally seamless and I'm still at a loss for how this was done. And on top of all that, it fits the song perfectly, both lyrically (you're entering another world), and also structurally, with each of the cycles the length of one verse of the song.



7. Cibo Matto - 'Sugar Water' (Gondry): This is the rare music video that requires multiple viewings to really understand what's going on. What at first appears to be a simple split screen two stories set up soon crosses over, bending time and character interactions, with simultaneous forward and reverse action. I love the way Gondry incorporates the song title into the video, first with the sugar/water shower visual pun and also with the writing on the window. More importantly, there's the stunning way the two stories interact and comment on each other, and eventually cross over. Things from the start of the video pay off at the end and it takes a bunch of viewings to really understand the depth of just how tied these two pieces are. And this is another one with essentially no cuts.



6. Beastie Boys - 'Sabotage' (Jonze): This video was actually the whole reason I got the first batch of Director's Label DVDs. I loved it when I first saw it and I still do. It's a fantastically fun video. Clearly it was very enjoyable to make and that joy is conveyed to the viewer when watching it. The costumes are great, I love the 70s vibe. The best moment here is when the body falls off the bridge at a high point in the music, and also the one underwater shot is very cool. The low budget, homemade feel adds to the charm of the video, and the characters' similarity to Division X from The Invisibles doesn't hurt either.



5. U2 - 'Discotheque' (Sednaoui): I'm probably a bit biased because this is one of my favorite songs, but I'd be the first to admit that most U2 videos are pretty weak. However, this one is amazing. It's set inside a disco ball, which means there's a whole bunch of strange colors. The video uses a lot of camera moves where the camera seems to be in a ball that Bono is batting around. The handheld stuff is great, really conveying the feel of the music. That's the best thing about the video, more than any of the individual images, it's the way that the editing seems to mirror exactly the music it's set against. There's the quick zooms for the guitar parts, the long shots for the sustained slow sections and quicks cuts for the "Boom" section. Now, every music video does this to some extent, but very few succeed in creating visual music like this video does, and that's not to say that it's all edting. The images of Larry with the disco ball and Bono and people time lapsed together are both fantastic. Even the Village People homage at the end works, despite the band's apparent lack of enthusiasm for it. Fantastic stuff.



4. Fiona Apple - 'Criminal' (Romanek): This is an odd video, with a lot of subtext to analyze. The whole video has a very dirty, 70s porn feel, with the wood panelled basement and seemingly drugged out malaise of the main characters. However, the fact that Apple looks very young makes the whole thing feel like underground, illegal porn that shouldn't be getting made, and on top of that, the way the video is filmed is to maximize the photo-voyeurism, be it with Apple's red eye in the first shot, or the mechanical pans that give this the appearance of security camera footage. In both the lyrics and the visual content, it's unclear whether Apple is in control of all that's happening, or if she's being taken advantage of. Who is the criminal here? The way the video is shot makes it feel like the viewer is, like we're being privy to something we shouldn't see. I guess the video ultimately is about the contradictions in female sexuality, how it is simultaneously empowering and also something that can lead to subjugation. Trapped in the car, she's helpless, but in the bathtub, she's taking joy in the power she has. A really bold, challenging video.



3. Mirwais - 'Disco Science' (Sednaoui): This is another crazy video that fits really well with the song. I love the heat energy effect that's on Mirwais as the video begins, pulsing to the song's beat. Mirwais as samurai fighting geishas who fire lasers from their nipples is as weird as it sounds, I love the void they're fighting in. Mirwais' acting here is actually really strong, particularly his befuddled expression as the women work on him, and trap him in the cage thing. The high point of the video is the end where Mirwais and the women are engaged in an orgy, covered in liquid which pulses, changing colors, turning them into an indiscriminate mass of heat energy. It reminds me a lot of the 'strip off' scene with Edith in volume three of The Invisibles. This is Sednaoui's best use of the geisha motif, and like Criminal, it's got a dirty 70s porn feeling, which works great for the song, which definitely feels porn like as well. The cutting and camera moves draw out what's implicit in the song, creating really strong visual rhythm to accompany the stunning visuals.



2. Jay-Z - '99 Problems' (Romanek): This video is the most successful use of cutting to mimic music I've ever seen in a music video. The song's heavy beat serves as the perfect accompaniment for Romanek's gorgeous black and white photography. The scenes that he shoots are all aesthetically interesting, be it Jay-Z walking on a bridge or Rick Rubin in a record store, and within this video we even get a little short story about the time Jay was stopped by the cops. Things start to get really interesting during a musical breakdown accompanied by the performance of a dance troupe, which is synched perfectly to the beat, both their motions and the cutting. I admire the video for showing something closer to real urban life than the fantasy of most rap videos. There's still most the same ingredients, scantily clad women, rapper performing, but it's presented alongside images of homelessness and prison life, creating an interesting juxtaposition. The best cutting I've ever seen in a video is at the end of this one, as everything builds to a climax. Jay performing in a cramped club is intercut with dogs fighting, intercut with a church choir, Rick Rubin and Jay getting shot out on the street. The camera movement combined with the editing creates this incredible sense of motion, echoing exactly the feeling the song has at that moment. I particularly love the intensity of the visuals here, it's extremely powerful filmmaking.



1. Daft Punk - 'Around the World' (Gondry): This video is the best video on here because it is the most adept at creating visual music. Daft Punk's songs are notable for the way they layer different instruments on top of each other, adding and subtracting to create the song. So, Gondry echoes this in the visual composition, having a whole bunch of oddly clad dancers stand for each of the different instrumental sections. So, a bunch of people with fake plastic heads going up and down the stairs represent an ascending and descending bass line, while slow moving astronauts represent the drawn out vocodered vocal. So, you visually get to watch the song build up and see hwo all the different parts interact, which is stunning when everything finally comes together. By the end, when all the characters are dancing together it's visually stunning, a tableau worthy of Busby Berkley. Besides their signifiance to the music, all the characters are dressed really cool. Gondry's costumes are a nice mix of kitsch and style. This is truly a music video, a perfect fusion of visual approach and song.

Sunday, December 11, 2005

Lost (2x01-2x09)

I watched all of the first season of Lost, and though I enjoyed it enough to watch every week, I had a lot of issues with the series, and the constant critical acclaim heaped on such a deeply flawed show grated on me. I didn't watch the second season because I just didn't think the first was good enough to justify the viewing However, having a bit of downtime, I decided to catch up on the second season and see what had happened so far, and if the show was able to truly live up to its reputation. In short, the answer is no, but it is better than year one.

The first scene of the second season was probably the best scene in the whole series. We're down in an odd bunker-type place and all of a sudden The Mamas and the Papas' 'Make Your Own Kind of Music' starts playing and we see a guy going about his daily routine. Great music choice and just a really surreal way to open the season.

The first three episodes of the season are all pretty good, revolving around the opening of the hatch and the discovery of this compound. There's some nice shifting of chronology, building up the tension around the showdown between Jack and Locke for three episodes. This is the kind of thing that probably plays better watching it all in one go, and could seem annoying spread out over multiple episodes. Down in the hatch, they discover a whole bunch of strange stuff, my favorite of which is the button and Dharma Initiative film. The button raises a lot of philosophical issues. I'm sure eventually we'll see what happens when they don't push the button, and already Michael has potentially screwed things up by reprogramming the computer.

The best thing in the entire series is the Dharma Initiative film. Even though I would have liked to see them spring for real 16mm film instead of just doing a filter in post, it's still very cool and raises a lot of questions about what the island is and what this whole Dharma Initiative entails. I always enjoy 'black science,' experiments taken too far, exploring the limits of peoples' mental endurance, and I liked the reference to BF Skinner, of the infamous Stanford Prison Experiment. So, there's a lot of potential with that.

Unfortunately, there's still a fundamental flaw in the show, and that's its structure. With over 15 main characters, it makes absolutely no sense to spend half the episodes on flashbacks. You may say that they need to spend time on the flashbacks because otherwise they're going to run out of stories to do on the island, however that's pretty ridiculous. If you run out of stories on the island, end the show, or have them get rescued and then you can do all the land-based drama you want. However, at this point, the flashbacks are just a waste of time.

But it's not just the screentime that bothers me, the flashbacks are symptomatic of the show's whole approach to narrative and characterization. A longform narrative, no matter how well planned, is something that has to grow and evolve over the course of its run, and that growth is usually guided by how the characters change as a result of the events they experience. However, rather than choosing to develop the characters through the events they experience, the producers have chosen to do so through these flashbacks, revealing what their lives were like before they got to the island.

This choice is quite idiotic. The first flashbacks episodes for everyone were pretty interesting, but at this point, how many times can we watch a series of awful events happen to characters in the past. How many more bad things are there left for Locke or Jack to go through at this point? But more importantly, in theory, the whole point of the show is to demonstrate how these people's lives change as a result of their experience on the island. For most of these people, whatever bad stuff happened to them in the past should pale in comparison to the fact that they're stranded on an island!

This is symptomatic of two major problems with the series. One is that the island is just too comfortable. Other than the stuff with the Tailaways, there's no real sense of danger or any real sense of deprivation. Everyone has good looking clothes, plenty of food and generally just seems to spend their days hanging around. So, it's like any other TV show. Considering how little this crash seems to have affected their lives, the show might as well be set in an apartment building. Consider finding the hatch. Yes, it's a major thing in terms of fighting this guy and the button and stuff, but other than the one scene with Kate and the candy bar, there's been very little dwelling on the creature comforts it provides. People should be ecstatic at finding the record player, considering they never thought they'd hear another piece of music in their lives. Obviously, this could be overdone, but I think it's worth doing because it's something that only this show could do.

Also, maybe they're saving it for future seasons, but I want things to get a little bit more Lord of the Flies. They're so caught up in their own plots, why not have a food shortage on the island, creating serious question about the viability of supporting more than forty people. This would turn everyone against each other and put the leaders in an uncomfortable position, something that would lead to a lot of dramatic intrigue. But even without going that extreme, let's show a bit of strain for these people, if they just wanted to do a show set on the beach, you've got plenty of it in California.

The other big problem demonstrated by the flashbacks is the fact that the show approaches narrative and character development like a puzzle. Everything is a question, "What's up with the hatch," "Why is Locke so mysterious," and the answers lie somewhere in the past. This is the sort of thing that works well for a film, where you can build a narrative around a central question, resolve it and leave. However, in TV, you end up with a lot of teasing, and a sort of dance with the audience of trying to keep secrets while still holding their attention, and ultimately this dance always falls apart.

A much sounder way to build a series is to allow it to get push forward by character development. Once again, I've got to say, they're on a goddamn island, shouldn't this be changing their lives massively. Yet, there's very little strong character development, pretty much everyone is just the way they were at the beginning of the show, with some of the edge shaved off, as is typical of characters on a longform series. Everyone moves a bit more towards a bland, likable center. Nobody has been heavily altered by their island experience, and that's because the producers are obsessed with showing us where these people have been, and if you're constantly focusing on how someone became who they are today, you're going to forgot about changing them into someone different tomorrow.

The nadir of the season is Shanon's death. One of the major issues never really discussed in the show is sex on the island. At this point, people are probably realizing they're not leaving, and as far as we know, it's been forty lonely days for most everyone on the island. Yet, this is never mentioned, nor are the practicalities of birth control, and such. In six, sex is finally had, between Shanon and Sayid. I believe they got together around episode 18 of last season. Shanon appeared in two episodes before six, and had, I believe, one scene with Sayid. So, this was clearly a deep, challenging relationship. This is the sort of thing where the time spent on flashbacks could be better used showing us some of what's up with Shanon and Sayid, rather than only going to them when something bad happens and expecting us to care.

Joss Whedon frequently used the start relationship, then die motif. However, he usually earned it. When Tara was killed, it was devestating. However, the death of Shanon is just sort of there. Despite the best efforts of that episode to make us care for her, it's not enough. The whole point of making a TV show is long term development, you can't take a stereotype, show some bad stuff happen to her and expect us to be sad when she dies. Pulling a Joss only works if you've earned it through character development. Lost did not earn it in this case.

Enough negativity however, it's clear that this is a deeply, deeply flawed show. Yet, there's still a lot of good stuff going on. I really enjoyed the B plot with Sawyer, Michael and Jin journeying back to the camp. Jin is really interesting, the language barrier makes him inherently fun to watch and Sawyer is the closest thing this show has to a Spike. Mr. Eko is excellent as well, I particularly enjoyed the stuff with him and Locke once they make it back to the camp. Also, episode 7, with the tailaways, was fantastic. I loved the end, which showed how all the stuff we'd already seen fit together in the bigger the picture.

The show falls into a catergory I've mentioned before, deeply flawed, but inherently watchable. The show goes down easy, even as it's constantly frustrating me. I think that's because it has so much potential to be great and yet it never quite makes it. Yet, they always give you just enough to string you along. And even watching it in one chunk, it's obvious that the show moves at a glacial pace. Nothing much happens for episodes on end, and when you don't bother with character development, that's actually a problem.

Thursday, December 08, 2005

Watchmen: The Perfect Diamond of Comics

A while back I did a piece on the Top Ten Works that Changed My Life and Watchmen came in at number three. If you check out that article, you can hear the story about what happened when I first read the book and a bit on it, but having just completed a reread, it's time to go a bit more in depth into what makes this book one of the most astonishing pieces of fiction ever produced.

If you haven't read Watchmen, go out, get the book, then come back and read this article. It's one of the best works of fiction ever made and absoultely revolutionized comics. But twenty years later, that revolution is accepted fact and we're left with the book itself, which definitely holds up. Anyway, spoilers from here on out.

The first thing that's noticable when reading Watchmen is its structure. Moore's work always uses the medium in different, interesting ways, frequently by placing limits on himself. In this case, the limit is the nine panel grid, the fact that every page in the entire book is based around a nine panel, three by three structure. It's the same thing that Moore used in From Hell, and it's clearly a way to create unique rhythms, as well as being flexible enough to support nearly anything he'd want to do. The sheer density of the text means that every splash page, or even a three panel spread makes a big impact. When you reach issue twelve and see the five full pages devoted to showing the devestation in Manhattan, it's overwhelming because it's the first time the book has broken out of this grid structure and given us a full view of events.

Within this structure we get a very disciplined series of juxtapositions of image and text. Watchmen is a work that could only be made in the medium of comics. Sure, you could tell the story in a film, but to fully experience Watchmen, you need to experience the way that Moore effortlessly weaves together multiple plotlines, often layering three or four different lines of narrative within a single panel. While at times this can be almost overwhelming, as in the case of the pirate comic scenes, which seem to be designed almost entirely tos how off Moore's skill at integrating these different narratives. However, on the whole it works wonderfully and really makes you feel like everyone else in comics isn't even trying. There's so much symbolism and double meaning in every moment of the book it's humbling. Gibbons art also deserves a lot of credit, for the way he is able to build an entire world on the page.

One of the greatest things that Moore and Gibbons do here is to create a fully realized world. You get the sense that every person on the street is a character, with something going on in their life, and through the supplementary materials and ads saturating the streets, you get an idea of the society in which the characters live. There's no moment where the entire alternate history is laid out, but over the course of the book, you can piece together all the events that occurred to bring things from where our world was in 1940 to their world in 1985. This is one of those rare fictional worlds that feels entirely credible and entirely right. It doesn't even seem like Moore made creative choices, it's just that this is the way things happen and he only recorded the real events. Obviously a ton of effort went into the book, but you never get the sense of Moore struggling to create this world, it's like it was there for him to find.

In terms of the story, I think there's a tendency for a lot of people to view Watchmen as more a marvel of construction than as an emotional journey. Marveling at the way the book is put together, it's easy to distance yourself from the events, but I think it all works together to create a really powerful story that touches on a ton of very important issues.

Watchmen was created as a deconstruction of superhero archetypes. Much like Moore's Miracleman, which sought to explore the existence of a real Superman, this book decides to explore what would happen if superheroes were real and does so in a way that I think is very compelling. I would argue this isn't solely a deconstruction of superhero archetypes, but actually functions as the ultimate superhero story. Moore famously remarked that no more superhero comics would be needed after this and that's true not because he's razed the genre to the ground, rather it's because he so brilliantly captured everything that makes the superhero comic flawed and great that everything else just pales in comparison.

He attacks a lot of genre conventions, reconfiguring the two biggest superheroes, Superman and Batman. Superman here is reconfigured as a true alien being, someone who just doesn't care about humans because they're so insignificant. In terms of addressing the realities of a Superman-like being, I think Miracleman: Olympus is a lot more interesting, but that's largely because Dr. Manhattan transcends being a Superman archetype and becomes a really interesting character on his own.

Here, the character of Batman is split in two, each representing a different part of his psyche. Dan is the rich bachelor who enjoys creating toys and generally views the whole superhero thing as essentially a suspended adolescence. There's the notable fact that he's completely reliant on the costume for confidence, without it, he is impotent. Then, we've got Rorshach who represents the darker side of the dark knight. Rorshach is a vigilante who goes after criminals supposedly in the service of justice, but primarily because it makes him feel good. He too is only alive when he's wearing the mask. Rorshach is essentially Batman taken to his darkest extreme.

But besides just riffing on these archetypes, the characters have a lot of other layers. The most popular character to come out of the book was Rorshach, who takes the vigilante style justice of a character like The Punisher to an extreme. He's very much from the 'Death Wish' school of justice, viewing the city as a corrupted sewer of moral decay that he must clean up. Issue 6, in which Rorshach reveals his past to psychiatrist Malcolm Long is one of my favorites in the series. I love the way that Kovacs builds Rorshach into an entirely seperate entity in his mind. The mask, and the symbolism it contains truly changes his perception of himself. Clearly, Kovacs has a lot of issues with his childhood, self loathing for his mother and all she represented. Rorshach is essentially an ultra-conservative character, for whom his prostitute mother is the nadir of morality. This conception of things was likely fueled by the teasing he took as a result of his mother's profession. Looking at the flashback where he's teased, we can see an innocent little kid changed into the violent person who would one day become Rorshach.

So, disdaining his mother, young Kovacs builds up his father as a fantasy figure of everything he wants to be, an aid to the government, fighting for justice and against communism. Looking at the supplementary material in issue 6, you get a sense of just how tragic his life is, with the way that Moore stresses how he's a "bright kid," and he clearly has a lot of potential. It's just that he's scarred and never finds someone he can really emotionally connect with. His bad experiences early on have discouraged him from attempting to have any form of emotional connection with anyone. When he gets older, he sees vigilantism as the way to follow in the footsteps of this constructed father image that he created. And as part of this process, he constructs an identity break at that moment, leaving Kovacs behind and becoming Rorshach.

By doing this, he is essentially erasing his past, a major source of shame for him. So, Rorshach can exist free of the emotional shame and trauma that handicapped Kovacs. When he goes to reclaim his costume and reveals to his landlady's children that she is a prostitute, he is reminded of who he was and is clearly uncomfortable, for the only time in the book, a bit guilty. However, most of the time, Kovacs lives in this Rorshach persona.

Because he's such a tough, single minded character, the few times we do see him express himself emotionally are very powerful. The exchange in Chapter X, where Rorshach tells Dan he's a good friend is one of my favorite moments in the whole book, and the final scene sees Rorshach at his most human. Even though he frequently does bad things, I still have a lot of empathy for the character and the stand he takes at the end.

There's a lot of different ways to read the taking off of the mask before he's killed. On the one hand, you could argue that it's Kovacs giving up the Rorshach persona and returning to his human self in his final moments. I think this is just part of it, by taking off the mask, he is allowing Kovacs to be killed, but not Rorshach. Rorshach is more important as a symbol, and as we see later with the journal, it's clear that the symbol lives on, even if the man does not.

Addressing the moral question of the end of the book, the events of 9/11 reaffirmed the feeling I had on the first read. I think what Rorshach did, even though it may cause those deaths to be in vain, is the right thing. The peace that Veidt created would not last forever, much like our own period of national togetherness was not very long after 9/11, and I know that if I someone within our country engineered those attacks, I would want to know.

A lot of this is due to Moore's brilliant characterization of all the local people in the area. Even though they only appear briefly, on the periphery of the story, you really get a sense of who these people are and what their lives are like. This all culminates in issue 11, where we see the mini arcs resolve themselves. Malcolm, seemingly introduced just as a device to reveal Rorshach's backstory, remains a fully realized character and chooses his duty as a human being over what would be most comfortable for his wife. He does not see helping people as an option, it is something he must do, he is willing to sacrifice his own happiness to help others. The small acts of kindness here are what are so striking. The whole book we've seen the boy and the newsvendor sitting next to each other, barely speaking, but here they strike up a conversation and forge a connection, and when the attack comes, the older Bernard does what he can to shelter the younger, an incredibly powerful series of panels.

It's the fact that these people are so well developed that makes Veidt's actions very troubling. We've all seen disaster movies where millions of people die, and there's usually some rote attempt at characterization, but here, we've been living with these people for a long time, we understand them, and to watch them suffer for Veidt's peace is unbearable. Thinking about what they went through, and the lie they died for, I have to support Rorshach's conviction to go back to Manhattan and expose the truth.

However, that is the sort of character he is, uncompromising. Dan and Laurie aren't so committed to justice, they fall into superheroics for different reasons. In Dan's case, it seems to be an idolization of the previous heroes. He saw their fantastic exploits and decided to go into it for himself. Like Rorshach, he seems more alive, and liberated, when wearing the costume. However, because he's a more stable, rational person, he does not go against the Keene Act and continue adventuring. He's more like a retired athlete, reflecting back on the glory of his past exploits, while not doing much of anything in the present.

As is alluded to at numerous times in the text, there's clearly a fetishistic aspect to the superhero wear, and as chapter VII shows, the connection between his youth and vitality, and the costume is more than just mental. For Dan, it's almost like the costume liberates him to be the person he actually wants to be. It's only after putting on the costume and going out and saving people that he can have sex with Laurie. It's a rebirth essentially. I really enjoy that thematic exploration, it's echoed in Batman Returns' examination of the impotent civilian characters versus the hyper-sexual costumed heroes. I feel like Batman Returns captures more of the issues that Watchmen discusses than any other superhero film to date.

For Dan, it's so much about the gadgets and toys that he's put into an uncomfortable position when the fate of the world is at stake. Much like Hollis, he finds himself rendered irrelevant next to the plans and skills of Adrian or Jon. Rorshach is able to compete at their level because he's so committed to what he's doing, however Dan has always been a bit more ambivalent and self conscious, so he finds himself deferring to Adrian's will and making a moral compromise at the end of the book. It may have been the right thing to do, but it's clear that Dan is not a 'superhero,' he is merely an adventurer, who seems insignificant when the fate of the world is at stake.

Laurie is also ambivalent about her place in the superhero world, but that's primarily because she never wanted to be there to begin with. She is pushed into action by her mother, and never really takes to the life. I think the reason she re-embraces adventuring during her time with Dan is that it's a chance to be free and unpredictable. After the highly structured life with Jon at the military base, the opportunity to do what she wants and be free is refreshing. So, she doesn't care about her safety, it's more about being alive in the moment.

One of my favorite issues is IX, where Laurie tracks back through her past. I love the way Moore gradually builds up the backstories, this issue paying off a lot of existing threads and revealing to Laurie, and to us, the great secret of her existence. Looking at Laurie and Blake next to each other, there's clearly a resemblence. It's interesting that at the end of the book, Laurie hints that her new costume will be based on her father's look, rather than her mother's. So, she has basically reconciled her identity and is now claiming it for her own. By being with Dan, she is accepting the fact that she cannot escape adventuring.

I've got an essay I did for my class on time that goes into Dr. Manhattan, so there's no need to cover his part of the story here. But, he's critical to the book and has some really interesting stuff to say about the place of the superhuman within humanity.

I would consider Watchmen one of the three essential superhero works, along with Moore's Miracleman and Morrison's Flex Mentallo. Watchmen deconstructs the archetypes and plays them out on the large scale they always demanded. It one ups Miracleman by creating an entire universe of heroes, rather than just the one, and by further exploring the logical extensions of superhero mythology. Though Moore has done a number of other phenomenal books, I would still consider Watchmen his masterpiece, an unparalleled combination of narrative and form.

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

X-Men 222-229

I'm back moving forward through X-Men history and these issues see a bunch of important stuff happening, including the famous Fall of the Mutants storyline. I've been following Claremont's stories for a long time now, I started reading Essential X-Men Volume 1 back in August and I'm still going. That's a testament to the quality of Chris' writing, it's amazing that after over 130 issues, he can still keep things fresh and interesting.

222 is the wrap up of the Marauders attack storyline and it's pretty solid. There's some good stuff with Havok and Lorna Dane, as Malice takes a lot of joy in messing with Alex. Over the course of these issues we see Alex become arguably the core of the team, taking over where Scott left off. He's the first one to voice his approval for the sacrifice in 227. We also get some interesting stuff with him and Maddy Pryor, as they become closer after he stops her from kiling herself in 223.

During this chunk of issues, the X-Men are based in San Francisco, which is described as a place more tolerant of mutants than elsewhere in the country. I don't think it takes a genius to see the allegory here, more than ever before, Claremont is pushing to the fore the idea of mutant as allegory for oppressed minorities. This is commonly regarded as the essential theme of the series, but it's only since the Mutant Massacre that it's really become an issue. I think it's very interesting stuff to address, and is something that only this comic can do. I love how the X-Men are constantly on alert, struggling to stay ahead of numerous threats. That lack of a status quo is a large part of what makes this chunk of the run so strong, we really do get the sense that the X-Men are always in danger.

Concurrently with this stuff is Storm's journey with Naze. This is one of those subplots that has some interesting stuff, but is ultimately too long for its own good. It seems to take forever for Storm to reach Forge and as she travels along, all that happens is she runs into a bunch of mystical foes and we hear Naze make vaguely threatening prophesies. I do like what it does for the character of Storm. Storm has gotten the most interesting development over the course of Claremont's run and this stuff is essential, as she's forced to confront her feelings about Forge. It's a testament to the strength of LifeDeath I that it's still able to fuel storylines roughly forty issues later. But, there was a really strong connection between the characters and you do want them to resolve their differences and finally get together. So, there's tension about what will ultimately happen, but too much of this subplot just seems to be filler, so that the climax of that storyline will coincide with the Fall of the Mutants stuff.

Back with the other X-Men, a prophecy states that they will die and something bad will happen in Dallas, so they're drawn to Dallas. I really liked the scene in issue 224, where Mystique warns Rogue about what Destiny had seen, she's still looking out for Rogue even if they're fighting on opposite sides of the law. The other cool thing in these issues was the return of Colossus, who had been MIA since the end of the Mutant Massacre. I was wondering what had become of Kitty, Nightcrawler and Piotr, so it was good to finally get some followup on that. Colossus is one of Claremont's better creations and it's good to have him back.

Even though I really admire the decision to bring on a new team of X-Men and keep things fresh, none of those characters are as strongly developed as the original Claremont team. Part of this is due to the fact that they are new, the original team had over 100 issues to develop, and perhaps in 100 issues, these new people would be just as interesting. But at this point, the character subtleties just aren't there.

But that's not that big a problem because Claremont has moved to a more plot based storytelling style than the character based soap opera stuff of the Paul Smith era. I loved that stuff, but it came about as the result of a long time in development for the characters, so in this case it makes sense to rely on stronger stories driving things forward. Still, I would like to see some more romance and interpersonal intrigue among the characters.

The most interesting character stuff happens to Wolverine and Storm. Here we see Wolverine in a different sort of role, as the tough love leader of the X-Men. This is quite a development for the character, as he moved from being on the fringe of the X-Men to leader, sculpting the team to match his pragmatic attitude towards violence and risk. He's always willing to sacrifice himself for the good of the team.

And it's Wolverine's leadership that brings them to Dallas where there's a three issue standoff outside the Eagle building. I really enjoyed this storyline, though there are some issues with it. I liked the way that we see Freedom Force and the X-Men team up, their logic overwhelming any natural adversarial tendencies between the groups. There's a great moment where Rogue thinks 'mom' and Mystique thinks 'daughter.' It's one of those moments that's a bit cheesy but still works on an emotional level.

The stuff surrounding the Eagle building is a bit nonsensical. In fact, I wasn't sure exactly what was going on for most of the storyline. It's clear that some being, the Adversary, is trying to make his way into the world and destroy it. However, the fact that this results in dinosaurs and weather distortion seems like unneccesary spectacle thrown on top of the story. And bringing in Roma, a god, is one of those fantastic things that doesn't mesh so well with the relatively realistic X-Men universe. In a work of fiction, you can get away with one major twist of reality, the conceit of your work, in this case the idea of mutants. So, someone like Roma doesn't fit into this twist and as a result feels like a deux ex machina.

However, the emotions of the showdown in 225 and 226 work well. Particularly in 226, you really get the sense of this showdown as an apocalyptic event, something massive on a scale the characters have never faced before. This is supported by the presence of Neal Conan, the NPR reporter. His presence was needed for the fake deaths, however it works well within the story to allow for some espousing on the need for tolerance for mutantkind. This theme is backed up by a really odd sequence where a bunch of Indians ride in to help the X-Men, only to be gunned down by some redneck hunters. This predates the red state/blue state divide by nearly 20 years, but it's right along the same lines, the actions here showing the legacy of intolerance on which the nation is built and must struggle to overcome. 226 is definitely the high point of the storyline, as tension builds to a huge level and the sense of doom is inescapable.

Over with Storm, 226 sees a really odd sequence in which her and Forge are transported to another world where time passes independently of ours. So, Storm goes off on a year long journey around the world, going to Africa where she ponders if on this world she might be the goddess she's constantly asking for help in ours. I really like that idea of someone becoming the thing that they pray to through a quirk in time, very Invisibles. So, she wanders back to Forge, who has built a device that can give Storm her powers back out of the materials in his bionic arm and leg. That sounds a bit ridiculous, but it makes sense in the story. We finally get Storm and Forge together here, having apparently overcome the issues that separated them in the first place. There's some crazy stuff going on here, and a lot of really interesting concepts. Claremont is tossing off ideas here that could form the basis of entire series.

So, Storm gets her powers back. Even though this is a bit of a step back, I preferred Storm without her powers, it makes sense in her character arc. Once she learns how to function without her powers, she can finally have them returned to her, now able to integrate Ororo the woman with Storm the goddess. It's a great moment as Storm opens a gate in the sky and returns them to the world they left, leaving the Eden they could have flourished in for the problems and trauma of our world.

While the buildup to everything was strong, I was a bit disappointed by the payoff in 227. In this issue, the adversary finally shows himself and Forge has to cast a spell to bind him. Everything here happens a bit too fast, dulling the emotional impact of events, plus the nature of the threat is still a bit unclear. It all seems so arbitrary. In 226, the events were played like the X-Men could really die, however here, the choice of the X-Men to sacrifice themselves happens so fast, you don't get any sense that they're actually in danger. In one page they're dead and a couple down the line we're with Roma and they're back. So, while the plot point is served, we get no emotional impact from the death of the X-Men. I believe that the crossover titles did play this out, and we get a little bit with Kitty Pryde, but I think it would have been cool to do an entire issue showing the impact of Neal's broadcast and addressing the fact that the X-Men are dead, then bring them back after that.

However, that's not what happened. There is a certain coolness in the fact that they're all so willing to go to their deaths. Wolverine is the first in line and the rest follow suit. I love Madelyne Pryor in this storyline. She's a regular human, but has nothing left in the human world and as a result, she's fighting alongside the X-Men, totally commited to what they're fighting for. The most emotionally relevant moment of the issue is her message to Scott before she dies. That's a fantastic moment. I'm not usually one to become particularly attached to one character, but Maddy Pryor has been a favorite of mine since her first appearance.

Another nice emotional beat is Forge walking out of the building, shamed. It would seem that the public is now in support of the X-Men. This is another reason I'd want to see an issue about the reaction to their death, they head off to Australia and that means that we don't get to see what their sacrifice does for the perception of mutants in the US. It would seem to be cutting out of this storyline at its most exciting time.

228 is an awful issue, the story is weak and while reading it, I was really anxious to see what had happened to the X-Men, so I was impatient. This reminds me of the Buffy episode 'Anne,' which seems deliberately designed to annoy the viewer by spending a lot of time away from the main characters, even as you want nothing more than to see what's up with our crew. So, in terms of building suspense, it works, but annoying your audience along the way isn't the best way to create suspense. I can't imagine this issue went over too well back when there was a month long wait between issues.

However, with 229 we're back and start to see the X-Men's new status quo. The X-Men have been dumped in Australia after being reborn and they are now invisible to scanners, so they can move about unharmed, what with the public thinking they're dead. Here, they fight a bunch of man/machine hybrids called the Reavers. This is a pretty strong issue, the fight is satisfying and more importantly, the end of the issue introduces yet another really bizarre concept, in the form of the siege perilous. After defeating the Reavers, the X-Men are debating what to do with them. They can no longer bring criminals to the authorities, doing so would expose them to the public. So, Roma brings them the siege, a device that will send people through some kind of dimensional warp and give them a just fate on the other side. It's a very cool concept and has a lot of story potential.

I really liked the debate between the X-Men over whether or not to kill the Reavers. Wolverine and Psylocke are all for it, but Storm proves the voice of reason here. She seems to be the X-Men's moral compass, if she is willing to kill someone, then they can get killed, but otherwise, it will not happen. So, the Reavers go through the siege and the X-Men are left with a new tool for dispensing justice.

This is a really tumultuous period in the book and the death at Dallas brings to a close stuff that had been developing since the Mutant Massacre, if not earlier. It's not as strong or cohesive stuff as that first crossover, but it's still really engaging storytelling, full of crazy ideas and a constant messing with the status quo. I love the fact that the X-Men haven't been at the mansion since the Mutant Massacre, the constant moving around has made things more interesting. I constantly want to know what happens next and that's a great testament to Claremont's storytelling.

Thursday, December 01, 2005

Six Feet Under: Nate

In my last post, I covered one of the series' more insignificant characters. Maggie, while she does have some intriuging characteristics, is most interesting in the context of her relationship to Nate and what she tells us about him. So, rather than continuing this elliptical analysis, I shall go straight to the source and discuss the show's central character, its tragic hero, Nate Fisher.

The first time we see Nate is on a plane going home for Christmas, and in that scene, he meets the person who will dominate his life for the next five years, Brenda. However, the series gives us glimpses of what Nate's life was like before this. As a child, he seemed to have a deep fear of death, whether it be his dead dog, or the bodies his father was working on, Nate had an understandable fear of the dead. Living in a funeral home, this caused a problem, and is likely one of the major reasons that he left home. He didn't want to live in that atmosphere, bound by the restrictive rules governing behavior in the Fisher family. The person who most like was his father, however Nathaniel always maintained a distance from his family, so Nate was never able to get close to him. He learns more about his father in the first few episodes of season one, most notably 'The Room,' than he did in all his childhood.

So, Nate runs away and winds up in Seattle, where he apparently lives a life devoted to his own pleasure. He doesn't expend himself to get a great job or a committed relationship, instead he takes easy work, at the food co-op and drifts from person to person, with Lisa serving as a frequent stop along the way. Nate had moved away from the rules and regulations of family and made a new life for himself, literally, a life that would provide him with the greatest pleasure for the least expense of effort. He had always vowed never to become his father, and this seemed to be the biggest move he could make from the funeral business.

However, when he goes home on Christmas after his father's death, Nate will never again really leave his family and the life he ran away from once. At the end of the first episode, after realizing his skill for counseling the bereaved, Nate agrees to stay and help with the business temporarily. However, considering his name comes first in the credits of the show, we know that this is not a temporary arrangement.

Nate at first enthusiastically embraces the role of funeral director, even stopping David from selling the home to Kroener. Had he allowed the sale to go through, his whole life would have been different, he may have returned to Seattle or at least found a job that was less taxing. However, he stopped the sale and as a result, wound up drawn further and further into a life he never really wanted in the first place.

I would argue that it's largely Brenda who's responsible for him agreeing to stay in L.A. They have an instant connection, and there's a fire between them. This same fire that first attracts them is ultimately what makes it impossible for them to stay together. But in the early years, Nate is the responsible one, apparently seeking a long term, committed relationship with this woman he'd just met, and he continues to pursue her even after the peculiar events with Billy and the naked Australian guy.

Two years later, Nate would blame Ruth for keeping in L.A. He says it was her fault that he stayed and as a result, she was responsible for the awful events that befell him in year three. I think right to the end, Nate longed for his old life, even as he knew that it was impossible. Once Maya was born, there was no way he could go back to living solely for himself, and he accepted that.

Season two sees Nate once again placed in close proximity to death, as a result of his AVM. 'In the Game' ends with Nate sitting on the beach with his father, who asks him if he's in the game. Nate imagines walking out into the water, disappearing into the waves, but we flash back to him on the beach, deciding that he will make that journey later, for now, he is in the game. This is another trying season for Nate, as he attempts to work a relationship with Brenda that she is rebelling against through her sexual escapades. Nate here is seen as the one who wants to settle down and get married, but Brenda distances herself from him, and in one of my favorite scenes from the series, he throws the ring at her, the passion that fueled them now turned on each other in a vicious emotional assault.

Nate ends season two getting on a bus, and at the start of season three, we see him wandering through a variety of parallel universes, each one holding a different vision of what his life could be. I think this sequence is stunning, but it's illuminating in the way it reveals Nate's fears. None of these lives are good. He has the choice of being mentally ill, struggling to relearn basic language, a white trash middle aged guy with a big gut watching TV, married to Brenda with kids, smoking up before visiting Ruth, or married to Lisa with Maya, or dead.

Now, this episode is rather ambiguous in that it is unclear whether Nate is given a survey of all the lifes he could lead and chooses the life with Lisa, or if he just peeks into some alternate universes and winds up on the path he would have been anyway. The way the episode is structured implies that in one reality, Nate did die. However, he passes into some kind of nexus between worlds and winds up with Lisa. Considering the state of things at the end of season two, it makes sense that he would go with Lisa. Nate always had a strong sense of moral obligation, he wants to do the right thing, and that's what makes him initially agree to help Lisa with Maya. Considering the other realities, the only potentially appealing one is life with Brenda, but at the end of season two he was very unhappy with her, and would not likely want to go through with marrying her, and in the process give up his commitment to Lisa.

At this point, the series splits off into a parallel universe, this is just one direction that could have been taken. I suppose you could say that about every choice, in both reality and fiction, but the start of 'Perfect Circles' is what makes it even more apparent. Regardless of the parallel universe stuff, we can still consider Nate's choice to marry Lisa. This is a classic example of Nate wanting to do the right thing. He gives Lisa what she wants, and though he may not really love her then, I think he figures that he'll eventually get used to this life.

Here is when Nate takes another step on the road to exactly what he didn't want to be, his father. Clearly, this was a major thing for him, Tom Wheeler mentions it in season five, the irony of Nate of how Nate ended up being exactly what he claimed to not want to be when he was in high school. Much like Nathaniel, Nate impregnated a woman and married her because it was his obligation. And now he finds himself trapped in a marriage that he finds imprisoning, and as the season progresses, he starts to recede from Lisa and have his own secrets, much like his father did. This comparison is made most apparent in 'Nobody Sleeps,' when Lisa throws Ruth a birthday party and the two of them bond, blending in Nate's mind. He removes himself from the festivities and stands outside alone, hearing his father remark on how similar to the two of them are.

I think season three is the best of the series, largely because of how Nate struggles to preserve his self identity against the overwhelming pressure that is Lisa's desire to be very close. Lisa too is living something of a lie. She used her pregnancy as a way of finally locking Nate into a committed relationship, and in light of what happens later, it's quite possible that Nate is not even the father of Maya. However, she saw an opportunity to get what she wanted, and assumed that Nate would learn to love her like she loved him. Nate finds himself being smothered in a life he didn't really want, unable to live up to what Lisa expects of him.

At this point in season three, Brenda re-emerges and causes some major jealousy issues with Nate and Lisa. She seems to be giving him a way out, but Nate rethinks things, likely still stung by the way that he and Brenda parted. this lead to perhaps the best chance Nate ever had for a viable relationship is after he meets with Lisa in the pyramid at Claire's art show. They both acknowledge that they are never going to be a perfect couple, and instead choose to just embrace what they do have. I think this is pretty much what Nate wants, someone who will be there when he needs her, but will also give him the space to do his own thing. A large part of why he resents Lisa early in season three and Brenda in season five is the fact that they both are trying to make him conform to the role of traditional husband, to subordinate his individuality to the family unit, and he's not ready to do that.

If I had to guess, at some point when Lisa was angry with Nate, she restarted the relationship with Hoyt, and this would be where the conversation he refers to in 'Untitled' occurs, where Hoyt says that Lisa told him how hard it was being with Nate. Most likely after he was drawn to Brenda, Lisa went up to Hoyt for a chance to get out her anger. However, after the pyramid discussion, I think she went to break things off, she wanted to come clean so that she and Nate could move forward from a good place, but Hoyt didn't like this and as a result, he kills her.

What this does for Nate is set up an incredible three episode journey, as he goes closer and closer to the edge, consumed by guilt that his wish that he would be free of Lisa has led to her going missing and eventually winding up dead. Nate has got what he wanted, but it destroys him. This is when the conversation I referred to earlier occurs and Nate lashses out at Ruth for keeping him in L.A. and leading him down the path to this pain. Nate seeks comfort from a customer at the funeral home, then lashes out at her when she asks to see him again. He inflicts similar pain on Brenda and his family, pushing them all away and isolating himself. He uses his pain as something distance himself, as if they are not worthy of interacting with him, their problems all petty in comparison to the pain that he is going through. The cycle of degrading events leads to the bar hookup with a woman at her dingy apartment, and ultimately culminates in Nate allowing himself to be beaten by one of the bar patrons, and ends up taunting him, asking for more pain to make up for the guilt he has about Lisa. Only by suffering himself can he be absolved of his sins.

This leads to the astonishing car scene, where Nate drives with Nathaniel and Lisa in the car, urging him to kill himself. His guilt is manifested in Lisa, who says the least he can do is kill himself. However, Nate survives and winds up back at Brenda, once again drawn to her at a moment of extreme grief. These two characters are inexorably drawn to her, and the return of Brenda in mid season three helps to make Nate's marriage more tolerable. It gives him an out. Anyway, he winds up at her door because there's nowhere else he can go, no one else who understands him, and though it is degrading for her, she still willingly goes along with helping Nate.

Season four sees things inverted for Brenda and Nate, as Nate is now the one who has to deal with issues, tempting Brenda from a stable, potentially workable relationship. For Nate, the entire season is about overcoming his guilt about secretly being happy that Lisa is gone. This is a vulnerable, broken Nate, in a way we haven't seen before, most notably when he is rejected and recedes into the Arctic in 'Parallel Play,' and in his psychic dog episode in 'Can I Come Up Now.' He definitely seems to be losing it, however, by midway through the season, he gets things together and gets on the road to getting back with Brenda.

As I mentioned before, Nate and Brenda have a very passionate relationship, and this passion can be destructive. Brenda has casual sex with Nate, but they both know that between them, there is no such thing as meaningless, casual sex. They have been through too much and are too deeply emotionally committed for that. So, Brenda begins to distance herself from Joe and they break up in a great scene where Joe calls Nate "a cripple."

Is this characterization accurate? In light of what happens in season five, it does seem prescient. Nate is unable to make the emotional commitments he would need to maintain a long term relationship. He cannot give of himself in that way, and that probably does make him a cripple. His greatest flaw is that he constantly finds something to distance himself from emotional involvement. With Lisa, it was the fact that he was more attracted to Brenda, and in season four, it is his need to mourn Lisa that prevents him from fully embracing the new relationship.

This conflict is particularly evident in 'The Black Forest,' when Nate, Maya and Brenda travel to Idaho to inter Lisa's ashes. Nate keeps Brenda seperate from the events, as if her presence there will somehow surry the proper mourning. This is not an entirely bad idea, and when Barb and Brenda cross paths, it's evident that they feel that Nate has not mourned Lisa for long enough.

This all comes to a head at the end of the season. In light of Nate's improper burial of Lisa, Barb is attempting to take Maya away from him. Considering his character, I'd imagine if Maya actually were to be taken away, on some level, he would view it as a blessing, because that would allow him to live for himself again. However, I think he genuinely does love Maya, and for all his flaws, he was a great father to her. Maya is the only person he always values over himself.

But what Barb's effort does do is force Nate to confront the direction of his own life. He continually pushes Brenda away, even as it becomes more and more apparent that she can be a mother to Maya. So, he leaves Maya with Brenda and goes North to confront Hoyt about the picture of Lisa.

This scene provides the emotional closure that finally allows him to get over Lisa. When he finds out she was having an affair, it essentially absolves him of the guilt over wanting Lisa gone. It was not his fault at all, Lisa was flawed, and it was her bad choices that led to her death. When Hoyt shoots himself, what really happened that day is resigned to mystery. Nate can never know for sure, and at that point he can either dwell on the mystery or move on. So, echoing the end of season three, Nate once again returns to Brenda, this time deciding that is time for them to get married and have kids.

When I first watched the show, I thought that the Lisa arc was primarily designed to show that Nate really belongs with Brenda, and that the reason he was unhappy with Lisa was that he loved Brenda more and actually wanted a life with her. This would imply that things would go well in the last season. That was not the case.


'A Coat of White Primer' is the first in a series of brutal emotional assaults in this final season. In this episode, Nate has to be a rock to Brenda, who is emotionally distraught over her miscarriage and fear that she can never live up to Lisa in Nate's head. Nate remains cool throughout the episode, telling David that he wants to give Brenda a baby because it will make her happy and he seems to have things worked out. Here we get flashes of the charismatic, together Nate from seasons one and two. However, at the end of the wedding, we're left with the ominous image of a bird eating their wedding cake. And in the final scene of the episode, we finally see Nate break down, his facade of strength crumbling when he's finally left alone. The thought of all the pain they will go through on the road to parenthood and the loss he has already experienced is too much.

'Dancing for Me' sees Nate is confronted with memories of his youth and a reminder of his own mortality. His friend Tom Wheeler talks about how seeing his daughter's friends awakens some lost youth within him. Justifiabily, Nate is disgusted by this and tells him it's wrong. Here, Nate claims that his life is right where he wants it to be and that he's not worried about turning forty. So, Nate is still keeping up this facade of everything's fine. I would argue that the reason Nate cannot relate to Tom's feelings is that Tom is locked into an apparently stable, boring relationship, and has consigned himself to that life. Nate still does not see himself in that role, he never did when he was with Lisa and he doesn't this time. It's evident when he imagines yelling at Brenda that she's a rebel and shouldn't conform to this role. He doesn't need to imagine being young, because in his mind, he still hasn't grown up.

The next major event for Nate is the breakdown at his fortieth birthday party. This is when the facade starts to crack, when he gets angry at Brenda because she gets angry at him. She is starting to sense that he doesn't really want another kid, he's just doing it for her, and this bothers her, and Nate doesn't really have a defense. As he told David, he is giving her this baby, and though it is his child, I don't think he has any particular desire to have a second kid, which is a bit ironic in light of the fact that Maya may not even be his. Nate keeps up the facade throughout the party, except for when he talks to Maggie.

Nate sees his homelife as something that's chaotic and troubled, and he can never seem to live up to Brenda's image of what he should be. However, Maggie is a sanctuary for him, she can share his pain and because she's alone in L.A., she demands nothing of him but companionship. Nate, though he is an understanding person who usually tries to do the right thing, seems to want relationships where nothing is expected of him. That's why he and Brenda work the first time, because they were both so self conscious about not wanting to conform to expected social ideals that they could remained distanced from each other. Asking for real commitment would be 'so cliche.' With Maggie, it is her calm demeanor and willingness to listen that makes her an essential outlet during this troubled period in his life.

Another outlet is beating a bird to death with a broom, and that's what Nate does at the end of the episode, his resolve finally cracking and his rage getting fully expressed. In the series' symbiology, birds are synonymous with death, so after staring down death at his wedding, Nate fights back and destroys this bird before it can destroy him.

The next episode sees Nate make a logical decision and fully embrace Brenda as Maya's mother. This is crucial in light of the events that happen later. However, this brief peace does not last, and in the next episode, Nate is making overtures to Maggie, telling her that Brenda and Maya are out at his mom's house and he's home alone. Nothing comes of it, but things come crashing down in the next episode when Nate finds out that their baby could be born with Downs or another genetic disorder.

Nate has so far managed to maintain a modicum of independence, kept his free spirit despite being married and a father. In Brenda, he hoped to find someone who would strive to be a rebel, unlike Lisa who was an entirely traditional mother, much like his own. Yet, Brenda neglects her old ways and fully embraces the new life she has leading. This means that Nate is left out as the one who's doing things wrong and unable to commit. Back in their first go around, she was always the one screwing things up, he was morally in the right, but here, he's the one unwilling to commit. The prospect of a 'special needs' child strikes fear into Nate's heart. This would completely alter his life, and he's seen in Maggie the pain that such an experience could cause. At this point, Nate is about seeking peace in his life, and he seems reluctant to go through all that potential pain. He doesn't want to suffer any more, while Brenda is ready to suffer whatever it takes to ensure that she has a child.

One of the notable scenes here is when Maggie tells Nate that, though it was hard, she never regrets having her son. Yet, Nate skews the information, telling Brenda that Maggie said it was very difficult and trying. Nate sees Maggie as a pure soul, someone who seeks the same peace that he is after, largely because she is the only on who has been through comprable suffering. The fact that he thinks so highly of Maggie, and speaks of her as an authority, is what bothers Brenda and causes her to lash out at Nate for the relationship they have. Maggie has the purity that she is so self conscious about lacking.

This leads to 'Singing for Our Lives,' where Nate is drawn to Quaker spirituality, the quiet, introspective moments he spends in the Quaker church a refuge from the troubles he has at home. Even though he brings Brenda with him to the church, he is more engaged with Maggie while he is there. This irks Brenda, and causes her and Nate to discuss her views on spirituality. Her confirmed atheism seems so hollow next to Maggie's deep spiritual commitment, and with his new peace-seeking incarnation, Nate cannot respond to the negativity inherent in a view of the world where nothing we do matters. Nate is always searching for a higher purpose, that's what drives him away from home, and it's what makes him unable to sustain longterm relationships.

In 'All Alone,' Brenda tells Maggie that Nate wanted someone who would make him feel like a better man than he was, and that's a large part of what draws him to her. He idealizes her, much like he idealized Brenda when he was with Lisa. Maggie is peaceful, giving not demanding, and seems to genuinely like him, whereas Brenda seems only to demand things from him. When Nate finally does sleep with Maggie, they both see it as a sacred union. It's not tawdry adultery, it's the merging of two souls in a peaceful place. However, Nate's decision to sleep with Maggie is another example of him running away from problems. Even though Brenda had nothing but disdain for the Quaker church, she saw how important it was to Nate and decided to make a sacrifice and go to the service for him. Nate is unable to make a similar sacrifice for her, he acts on his own selfish impulses, never content with where he is, always searching for a better, more fulfilling life.

Nate's collapse at Maggie's is timed such that it seems to punish him for what he's done. In breaking his bond with Brenda, he has been struck down. However, he survives and with this second chance, he would have the opportunity for redemption, to apologize to Brenda and heal his life.

However, in one of the most controversial things surrounding the character, even as he lies in a coma, Nate imagines another alternate life, one where he and Maggie are together and he breaks up with Brenda, deciding to move to a place of peace. I think Nate genuinely believes that he and Maggie are perfect for each other, even more so than he once thought Brenda a perfect partner. However, in both cases, he has constructed idealized images to suit what he needed at the time. In seasons one and two, Nate was getting drawn into a more and more conventional life and it is Brenda who provides the rebellious fire that keeps the drifting part of his soul alive. By the fifth season, Nate has been through so many awful occurrences and is continually confronted with strife at home, so he turns Maggie into this peaceful sanctuary. In the long term, it's likely her own insecurities would come to the surface and cause Nate to seek someone else, however, part of me wants to believe if Nate did survive, he and Maggie would have made it. They are both at a similar place in their lives and want the same thing.

The events of 'Ecotone' clearly demonstrate that Nate is not sorry for what he's done. He flirts with Maggie in his hospital bed, and then, in a very cutting scene, breaks up with Brenda, his pregnant wife. His points are logical, they have been through so much trauma, maybe they aren't right for each other. Brenda tells him that he's just a narcissist, and will never be happy with anyone but himself. In light of past experience, this is probably true. His two long term relationships have failed miserably, all because Nate was unwilling to give of himself to make them work.

So, this brings us to the inevitable, this show's driving force, death. The final scene of Ecotone is one of my favorites in the whole series. Continuing the birds as death motif, we see David and Nate watching a nature documentary about bird migration. From there, they enter into an odd shared dream sequence. The meaning of this dream is rather unclear, but I'll give my interpretation of it. The world we see is another parallel universe, but like in Perfect Circles, Nate has memory of the 'real world,' in which he lived during the series. However, the Nate of this world seems to be one who hasn't been through all the traumas that Nate has been throughout the series, it's a fantasy of a world where he and David have no problems and can go surfing.

He's wearing the running clothes that he wore a lot at the beginning of the series, and very rarely in the later years. So, this indicates a younger, freer Nate. Perhaps this is the life he always really wanted. The version of David here is a bit tougher to figure out, I think he's partially meant to be a composite of David and Claire. The orange hair and weed smoking indicate Claire, though she's not quite that surfer. So, perhaps this is David's fantasy as well, that he could be freed of the inhibitions and guardedness that locks him during the series.

These characters actually seem to belong to a younger David and Nate. Despite all that's happened to them, I don't think that David or Nate would actually want to undo the past five years, Nate for Maya and David for Keith. But at the same time, they can relax into these old fantasies, visions of a simpler life, and together in the back of the van, they're happier than we've ever seen them. I'm pretty sure the van they're driving in is the same van from 'That's My Dog,' and the reconfiguration of it here as a tricked out hippie van indicates more revisionism, undoing the dark events of recent years, replacing it with this idealized fantasy version.

They reach the ocean and here we return to the metaphor of 'In the Game.' Land is the life they live, their world, the ocean is the great unknown that is death where "there might be sharks." This time, Nate cannot return to reality, he is done with that and instead moves beyond, into what they've been waiting their whole lives for. In this moment, Nate consciously chooses not to hold onto the pain and suffering. While I wouldn't say that Nate is happy to die, I do think that at this moment he is at peace. He is no longer trying to live through the conflict with Brenda, he has freed himself from that relationship, and no longer has the energy to fight.

It's sad, but Nate is really worn down over the course of the series. The person who feared death so much early in the series, because he had so much to live for, has been reduced to someone who runs from the fire. That is why he goes off into the water. The implications of this are made clear when we see regular David return and get offered crack by Nathaniel. So, refusing to go into the water, he's again confronted with the pain of this world, the worst thing he ever experienced. I think it's this moment that causes him to have a whole bunch of problems in the next couple of episodes rather than the pain caused by Nate's death.

But, that's for another post. So, it would seem that Nate's journey has reached an end, he's willing to accept death and goes off into the great unknown. A critical character point is revealed in 'All Alone,' when Maggie goes to apologize to Brenda, but Brenda tells her "He didn't really love you, he only loved himself." I'd consider this central to the character's failings, he was enchanted with her becuase she was everything he didn't have, but once he did have it, then he would want something else. He was always searching, never content to compromise and live with what was given to him.

I don't think this is such a bad trait, and even though what he does to Brenda at the end is extremely harsh, it's the first time he's really being honest, he's telling her what he could never tell Lisa, honestly expressing his feelings about their relationship in a peaceful manner, rather than a shouting match.

As the series ends, we see everyone making compromises to create relationships that work. George may not be perfect, but Ruth finds love with him. Brenda has to give up some of herself to raise Maya and Willa, but she does it. At the end of the series, we see a new family constructed. Nathaniel's absence cast a shadow over the entire series, and Nate was continually being forced into the role of patriarch, a role he did not want. He was not a family man, he was an idealist, always searching to better himself, and that meant he could not make a relationship or family work. He needed more. In his absence, a new family is built, and only when Nate died could that happen. Ruth and Brenda connected in his absence, and the Chenowiths and Fishers finally really came together.

While Peter Krause does appear a whole bunch of times in those final episodes, there are only two appearances I would consider to be the real Nate. One is the scene where we see Nate holding Willa, and telling Brenda how much he loves her. Because Nathaniel is there, and specifically mentions that Brenda had never seen him, it implies that this isn't her mental projection, it's a visit from the spirit of Nate, telling her what she really wanted to know, that he loved Willa and was glad that Brenda had the baby. Telling her this, Nate assuages her fears and allows her to mvoe forward.

The final appearance of Nate is in Claire's rearview mirror, when once again we see the young Nate, running. This is the crucial image of the character, encompassing his flaws and attributes. He was never content to stand still, he ran from his family when he was young, he ran from Lisa and he ran from Brenda, and while this running hurt him, it also shows that he was never content to stay with what was known, he wanted to move forward into the unknown, and wading into the water, that's what he did.