In just a few minutes, my wife and I will be sitting down to
watch the premiere of Doctor Who’s 11th modern series. This will be
our first chance to see the 13th Doctor in action, not counting her
brief introduction at the end of the Christmas Special. I’m taking this moment
to record my thoughts on the concept of a female Doctor (before my thoughts on
the concept are influenced by the reality).
I could have shared these thoughts a long time ago, when the
news was first announced. However, I have a standing practice of ignoring BBC
press releases, since the network doesn’t have many qualms about spoilers.
(River Song would be ashamed.) Honestly, I wish we could just see the events of
the show as they happen, and react to them organically, rather than hashing
them out in response to press releases that appear months in advance.
But I digress. The question is whether choosing a female
Doctor is a good idea… and the answer is that I have no idea.
When the news was first announced, reactions were (in
typical Internet fashion) polarized.
Some people said that it doesn’t make a difference whether
the Doctor is male or female, but I can’t agree with that. It does make a
difference, both in how the audience reacts to the Doctor (because I don’t
think humans can avoid reacting to men and women differently, despite our best
efforts to treat everyone the same) and in how other characters react to the
Doctor, especially in many of the patriarchal times and places that the Doctor
visits frequently.
Other people said it was a mistake to change the Doctor, but
I can’t agree with that either. Since the Doctor’s first regeneration in the
1960s, the character has been defined by change. In fact, the show’s longevity
is based on its ability to change! (The Doctor changes, the companions change,
the TARDIS changes…) Everything that usually defines a show – from the cast to
the sets to the setting – has been erased and rewritten, again and again.
I understand why people are saying, “A female doctor
won’t be the same!” but that’s not the point. This is Doctor Who! It’s a show that’s
predicated on the question, “How much can we stretch and reinvent this premise without
losing what makes the show special?” By asking that question for decades –
through 12 leading men and countless companions – Doctor Who has already
challenged our notions of what defines a show’s identity. Why can't it also
challenge our notions of what defines the Doctor’s identity?
In short, I acknowledge that a female Doctor is a huge
creative risk. And I’m thrilled to see them take it.
I feel so ungrateful about this "Last Airbender" news. It could be something wonderful, but I can't help thinking of all the reasons that it doesn't seem like a good idea.
Some stories are ripe for adaptation, but others are born in their ideal form, and cannot be improved by a retelling. For "The Last Airbender," animation seems like that ideal format, which makes me fear that a live action series – no matter how good – will be a pale imitation.
By contrast, consider "The Lord of the Rings." The books are a masterpiece, and the movies are an entirely different kind of masterpiece. They complement each other—one story, but expressed through two different types of storytelling.
Can the story of "The Last Airbender" also be told in a different way? More importantly, should it be? I'm not sure. I don't want a live action series that feels like a retread of the animated series, but I also don't want a live action series that conflicts with the series I know and love.
I have to wonder...
If Netflix believes in "The Last Airbender" enough to pay for it, why not produce more of the animated series? The story has already been continued in graphic novels, which demonstrates how many stories are left to tell... and, unlike the main arc of the series, those stories haven't been told in their ideal format yet. They could actually benefit from being brought to the screen.
Of course, that's where my feeling of ungratefulness comes in. Rather than being glad for what I'm given, I'm whining for what I'd rather have instead. The truth is, I should trust that the creators of "The Last Airbender" know what they're doing. After all, they're the ones who got it right the first time. If anyone can get it right again, it's them.
I just don't know how they can do justice to everything that made their first show great, especially on a TV budget. Granted, shows like "Game of Thrones" have demonstrated that a fantasy epic is possible on television... but even "Game of Thrones" is judicious in its use of visual effects. It uses them when they really count, but not all the time. By contrast, "The Last Airbender" lives in a world filled with flying creatures, detailed choreography, and magical powers. How in the world will they accomplish that?
Let’s take a moment to appreciate the Mission Impossible
franchise, which spans 22 years and 6 movies. In that time, the longest gap
between films was 6 years. Off the top of your head, try to name another
franchise with that longevity and that consistency. (Even the shockingly
durable X-Men franchise didn’t begin until the year 2000.)
A few noteworthy franchises have similar longevity, but huge
production gaps between films. (For Star Wars, the longest gap was 16 years, between
1983 and 1999.) Others have changed protagonists along the way. (For Star Trek,
movies were produced consistently for 23 years, between 1979 and 2002, but the
characters changed in 1994.)
On the other hand, Tom Cruise has carried the Mission
Impossible franchise since he was 34 years old. In the latest installment, he’s
56, and still running breakneck across rooftops and doing his own death-defying
stunts. For one scene, he trained for a whole year to do a complex
high-altitude skydiving sequence. The man may be eccentric, but he’s an action
phenomenon.
Another shocking thing about the franchise is that it hasn’t
gone downhill. On Rotten Tomatoes, the first 3 movies are scored between 57%
and 70% while the latter 3 movies are scored at 93% or higher. I’m tempted to
quibble over some of the scores (Mission Impossible 3, scored at 70%, is my
favorite), but the point still stands: These films hold up.
At the beginning, the films were very inconsistent. Each one
was helmed by a different director, and the tone, characters, visual style, and
production design changed every time. The first film is Brian De Palma’s take
on Mission Impossible; the second film is John Woo’s take; the third film is
J.J. Abrams’ take. For the first 3 films, the only consistent elements were
Tom Cruise and his trusty “guy in the chair,” Ving Rhames.
Then Mission Impossible 4 began to change things. Although
helmed by a different director, Brad Bird (of “Incredibles” fame), it brought
back some characters and elements from the third film. Mission Impossible 5,
directed by Christopher McQuarrie, brought back even more. Then Mission
Impossible 6 bucked the trend completely; it had the same director as Mission
Impossible 5, and it served as a direct sequel to the events of the previous
film.
The thing that makes this strange and satisfying is that the
series felt like it was ending 12 years ago! In Mission Impossible 3, Ethan
Hunt (the Tom Cruise character) is retired. His adventures in the fourth film are
explained as a special situation, but the fifth film doesn’t even bother to
explain why he’s still a secret agent. That makes it extremely satisfying when
the latest film, “Fallout,” ties everything back together.
Mission Impossible is a franchise built on delivering more
than you expected to get, both in quantity and quality. How many times has a
successful film franchise grown out of remaking an old TV show? I don’t think
it happens very often. Then again, I admit to some amount of bias here; I’ve
loved Mission Impossible since I saw the first film as a kid. (I distinctly
remember recording an episode of Entertainment Tonight just to catch the
trailer for Mission Impossible 2.)
For me, each new film has been a pleasant surprise—never
something I took for granted. In fact, the gap between Mission Impossible 2 and
3 was so long (6 years) that I remember thinking the franchise was over. When
they announced the third film, I thought, “Great! They’re going to finish the
trilogy after all.” Then I reacted with surprise when they announced the
fourth, and I was incredulous when they announced the fifth... but I was always
excited to buy my ticket.
By the time the sixth film was announced, I knew better than
to be surprised. However, I am a little surprised that it’s probably the best
one yet. If they choose to end the franchise here, I’ll be completely
satisfied, but I won’t rule out the possibility of another film. For any other
franchise, that might seem improbable... but definitely not “Impossible.”
In the first Jurassic World movie, Henry Wu says, "Nothing in Jurassic World is natural. We have always filled gaps in the genome with the DNA of other animals, and if the genetic code was pure, many of them would look quite different. But you didn't ask for reality; you asked for more teeth."
It cleverly explained why many of the dinosaurs in the original Jurassic Park weren't scientifically accurate, but it also reinforced the movie's theme about escalating a spectacle for a jaded audience. As Claire says, "The park needs a new attraction every few years in order to reinvigorate the public's interest. Kind of like the space program."
The parallel is clear: The movie is set in a fake world where real dinosaurs aren't amazing anymore, because the current generation of kids don't remember a time when dinosaurs didn't exist. Similarly, the real kids going to see movies in 2015 don't remember a time when amazing on-screen dinosaurs weren't possible. To realize what a miracle that is, you must have lived long enough to see how the world changed when visual effects (which once, by necessity, left much to the imagination) finally made anything possible on-screen.
Jurassic World was such a good movie because it understood its DNA. While being over the top, it cleverly acknowledged how and why it was over the top. Most importantly, it was executed pretty well.
Ironically, Fallen Kingdom is a disappointment (at least for me) because it embodies the careless escalation of spectacle that its predecessor denounced. Henry Wu's criticism of the Indominus Rex could apply, word for word, to this sequel: "You didn't ask for reality; you asked for more teeth."
To be clear, teeth aren't bad. People show up to these
movies for teeth… but striking a balance is important. The characters need to
make enough bad decisions to enable the disaster, but not so many bad decisions
that you can't take them seriously. The spectacle needs to be exciting, but not
so densely packed (more dinosaurs! more violence! volcano!) that it all runs
together. The story needs to be outlandish to be fun, but should make enough
sense to be compelling.
Unfortunately, Fallen Kingdom misses those marks. I couldn't
buy into what was happening; I couldn't buy into why it was happening; and I
couldn't buy into the people it was happening to. The movie does have some
appealing characters and good ideas, as well as some good spectacle, but it’s
hampered by too much over-the-top action, and too much sketchy characterization,
to keep me invested. I don’t hate it, but I don’t like it much either. For
someone who’s been a huge fan of Jurassic Park since childhood, that’s a
disappointing surprise.
A Christian friend recommended the following debate, between David Silverman (atheist) and Dr. James White (Christian, presuppositional apologist). The topic of the debate was, "Is the New Testament evil?" This was my response:
I listened to this because you recommended it, but I tend to avoid debates that revolve around evaluating scripture. Having listened to a lot of debates, I now believe that the only religious debate worth having (or at least, the first debate that must be had) is whether the testable claims of that religion deserve to be taken seriously. Until the underlying worldview is shown to be reasonable, arguing the details of that worldview is putting the cart before the horse.
It’s like arguing whether Bigfoot is left-handed. Until we have a good reason to think Bigfoot exists, who cares which hand he writes with?
That’s why, if I had been in David Silverman’s shoes, I wouldn’t even have agreed to a debate about whether the New Testament is “evil.” Before it even started, I knew how that debate would go: The atheist would say, “Here’s some bad stuff in the Bible,” and the Christian would say, “You have no objective basis for morality, so how can you say what’s good or bad?” Of course, that’s exactly what happened. On those terms, there’s no way to settle the question. There’s no effective way to conduct the conversation, much less to win the debate.
I wonder why the Christians even wanted to have this debate. It makes me imagine a bunch of Star Wars fans who invite a layman to debate whether Darth Vader is evil. The layman wants to do his research, so he watches the movies, and he shows up with the most coherent argument that he can muster. He says, “Well, Darth Vader uses the Force to choke people who don’t deserve it, so Darth Vader is clearly evil.” But, instead of engaging with that point, the Star Wars fans reply, “How can you say that choking people is evil? You’re not a Star Wars fan. To you, this is a fictional story. If these are just fictional characters, how can choking them be evil?”
At that point, the layman would rightfully reply, “Okay, fine, but if that’s your attitude, why did you invite me to this debate? I thought you wanted to talk about Star Wars, but it seems like you only want to talk about how my opinion doesn’t count because I’m not a Star Wars fan.”
I told you once that presuppositionalism can’t actually win arguments; it just prevents itself from losing. It does that by trying to invalidate the whole conversation, claiming that its opponents have no basis for anything they say (or that they “borrow” their basis from the Christian worldview). Thus, the opponent can’t make any progress toward a coherent argument, because the presuppositionalist keeps derailing the discussion.
Unfortunately, David Silverman is not very good at avoiding those sneaky presuppositional traps. He did a decent job, but he kept taking the bait instead of chopping off the fishing pole.
One of his biggest mistakes was claiming that humans can judge an “all-knowing, all-powerful being” (God). He was wrong to say that because, when atheists judge the morality of “God,” they are not judging an all-knowing, all-powerful being. Rather, they are judging the HUMAN IDEA of an all-knowing, all-powerful being (according to how that idea is portrayed as a character in the Christian Bible). It’s possible to make those judgments without believing a shred of the mythology attached, just as it’s possible to judge Darth Vader as a literary character without believing that Star Wars really happened. On that basis, we can identify “plot holes” in the Christian mythos that reveal its true nature as a human narrative.
As Gene Roddenberry said, “We must question the story logic of an all-knowing, all-powerful God who creates faulty humans, and then blames them for his own mistakes.”
Another point that David Silverman should have countered was the one about morality and natural selection. Contrary to the implications of Dr. White, subscribing to evolutionary theory is not equivalent to believing that every action favored by natural selection is morally good. White kept implying that things like rape should be good from a “naturalistic materialist worldview” because they lead to reproduction, and reproduction is the only thing natural selection cares about. That’s absurd.
We can recognize that natural selection got us to this point without liking everything about the process. In fact, as we struggle to build a better world, it’s important for us to recognize how the perverse incentives of natural selection have stacked the deck against us. We need to recognize that the human race did not evolve to be fair, or safe, or happy, and that those qualities can only be developed in the world if we consciously rise above our “programming.” That programming includes our innate predilection for superstitious thinking, and its dire consequence, religion.
You might argue, as Dr. White did, that I have no basis for wanting to build a world like that. You might argue that my “naturalistic materialist worldview” makes everything meaningless, because we’re all just molecules bumping around in the dark (physical matter with no soul). But, if nothing else, I’m a conscious animal who’s capable of experiencing pleasure and pain. Therefore, my pleasure and pain has meaning to me, and the satisfaction or suffering of other people has meaning to them. Beyond that, we can argue about the details – about what exactly is the meaning of life – but it’s ludicrous to suggest that life is meaningless for creatures who can think and feel.
The film's bookending theme is hope, so it's appropriate
that it restored my hope for the DC Cinematic Universe. (Yes, I know it’s
officially called the “Extended Universe.” I’m not calling it that.) It’s not quite
a breath of fresh air, like Wonder Woman, but it’s an engaging and exciting movie with no major
flaws to drag it down.
I can’t discuss my feelings about Justice League
without recapping my feelings about the DC films I didn’t like.
I mostly liked Man of Steel, but I could never get excited
about it because its flaws were flaws that really bothered me. (Visually, it
suffered from muted colors and an abuse of slow motion during emotional scenes. Narratively, it was hampered by some logic flaws... and everything
about Jonathan Kent.) I loved the opening sequence of Batman v Superman, and I
think that Ben Affleck is the best on-screen Batman ever, but the film quickly descends
into a jumbled and numbing slog. (I also can’t stand Jesse Eisenberg’s Lex
Luthor. At all.) I thought that Suicide Squad was mostly a mess, slightly
redeemed by a few good characters – including the first good portrayal of
Amanda Waller, by Viola Davis – but just as harmed by bad ones. (I approached Jared Leto’s
Joker with an open mind, but I couldn’t get onboard.) Finally, as I said above, Wonder
Woman was a breath of fresh air, even if it had some flaws.
With Justice League, all of DC’s good casting decisions are
in the spotlight, along with some new ones, and that really helps. The actors
playing Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman were already great in their roles.
Among the new faces, I thought I would like Jason Momoa as Aquaman, and sure
enough, I did. (For the record, I’ve been a fan since before Game of Thrones,
when Momoa joined the cast of Stargate Atlantis.) However, I wasn’t sure how to
feel about Ezra Miller. He has a hard job to do in owning a character that
already belongs – for this generation of fans – to Grant Gustin on the Flash TV
show. This version of Barry Allen is young, impulsive, and insecure. Rather
than Barry Allen, he feels more like Bart Allen (another speedster, one who’s actually
known as “Impulse”). For me, though, the real standout was Ray Fisher as
Cyborg. I already knew the character, but not very well, so this was a new
introduction for me. Fisher brings gravity – and some elements of danger – to
the role, but he also gets to show some emotional range. I’m really looking
forward to seeing him as a fully-developed hero.
For most of the film, I was invested in the interactions
between these characters, and that’s an important proof of concept for a DC
universe that’s jumping into its big team-up movie without introducing all of
the players first. This film shows that I can see these characters together and
actually care about them and what they’re doing. The only weak areas are some
bits of humor – mostly with the Flash, but even with Batman – that feel a
little forced. I wonder if that was the influence of Joss Whedon (who took over
the post-production of the film after the director, Zack Snyder, suffered a
personal loss), or the influence of a movie studio listening to complaints that
Batman v Superman wasn’t “fun like those Marvel movies.” Either way, it’s not always
a good idea for the people making movies to listen to what audiences think they
want. When people complained that Batman v Superman wasn’t “fun,” the remedy
wasn’t to add more jokes; it was to build a better story with engaging
characters. The good news is, they mostly hit that mark this time.
(Next on my DC wishlist: a climactic battle sequence that
doesn’t remind me of a video game.)
Earlier today, I saw the following post in my Facebook feed:
Notice that the photo has almost 17,000 shares. A closer look at the page, "Stories That Touch," reveals that they have recently re-branded. Here's their original profile picture, side-by-side with their new one:
And here's their original cover photo, side-by-side with their new one:
Obviously, this page has reinvented itself. If you look at their "Photos" section, you can see the exact moment when they changed from being a page devoted to generic workout videos (and female butts in yoga pants) to shamelessly exploiting sick people.
Remember the image at the beginning of this post? If you take a moment to right-click on the image (in Google Chrome) and "Search Google for image," you quickly learn that the picture has been stolen from a Facebook page called "Abigail's Joy."
Of course, you don't need to, because the scam page weirdly decided to include a photo credit:
Notice that the original post on "Abigail's Joy" doesn't ask for likes, amens, or shares.
This should be an obvious example of "like farming," where a Facebook page tricks people into commenting, clicking "Like," or sharing. Their goal is to make the page popular enough that it can be used to market a product, promote a scam, or steal credit card information. (Sometimes these "like farmed" pages are even sold in an online black market.)
Yet, people fall for it. Why? I have to place some blame on the very concept of prayer. Our culture accepts and respects the superstition of prayer as a meaningful act, even though it doesn't affect the real world in a verifiable way. (Any claimed effects of prayer are easily explained by confirmation bias and placebo effects.) If we indulge the superstition of prayer, we indulge the kind of magical thinking that allows people to believe that typing "amen" will make a difference in the world.
If you want to help sick people without indulging superstition, donate to a secular relief organization like "Doctors Without Borders" or a humanist charity like "Foundation Beyond Belief."
I've reported the page "Stories That Touch" to Facebook as a scam, and I encourage you to do the same. You can do it easily by visiting the page and clicking "More."
