Big Screen Streaming: The Force Awakens

Big Screen Streaming: The Force Awakens

-by Roger Market

NOTE: This review/essay may contain spoilers. But everyone has already seen it already. Right?

As expected, Star Wars: The Force Awakens saw considerable profits in its first weekend, despite having a $200 million budget to recoup. In fact, in just twenty days, The Force Awakens became the top-grossing domestic movie of all time (not adjusted for inflation). By contrast, the previous record, held by Avatar, was achieved in 318 days and includes re-release sales. The Star Wars brand clearly has unprecedented marketing power. If you’re a fan of the franchise, you’ve likely already seen the latest entry, so here are a few reasons to take a second look.

As Rey, the female protagonist, rappels down the ruins of a star destroyer in the dessert of Jakku, audiences quickly realize that she is not a lovesick puppy dog or a helpless “girl.” She’s a woman who knows how to take care of herself, a scavenger who earns her living just like any man of similar status; initially, she fights against a broken system, earning enough food to survive while waiting for her family to return (which they may not). One of the running gags in the movie involves the misinformed notion that Rey is a victim, a subservient sex, a damsel to be saved. When BB-8 and Finn enter her life, she faces challenges in the form of a co-dependent robot and a pre-programmed tough guy who can’t help but try to save her. “Stop taking my hand!” she screams at Finn as the two, along with BB-8, try to escape from the ruthless agents of The First Order. In short, she will not be dictated, and she alone will control her limbs.

On a related note, the film would have a difficult time passing the Bechdel test in any significant way, but as evidenced above, it’s OK; it still works. For the uninitiated, the Bechdel test purportedly rates the depth of cinema storylines involving women. For a film to pass, it must include the unlikely and sometimes forced combination of (1) two or more women, preferably named, in at least (2) one scene together in which they (3) discuss something other than a man. That’s it. Sound easy? Go watch your favorite films, and see how few pass.

While this reviewer supports fair, equal, and powerful representations of women in cinema, gender-centered checklists such as the Bechdel test serve to limit the pool of quality storytelling, ironically putting female-led stories into boxes. Which is exactly what many seek to avoid. Remember the infamous golden bikini from The Return of the Jedi? Princess Leia may have been groundbreaking and a firecracker in her own right, but even if she had been in a significant scene with another woman about something unrelated to men or masculinity, she still became embroiled in that feminist’s nightmare—which remains controversial today. Nothing can take that back! Although not perfect, filmmakers have learned a thing or two about gender balance in the last few decades. Female characters in The Force Awakens, therefore, feel more three-dimensional than in any other film in the Star Wars universe, even without Bechdel’s arbitrary test. The scene that comes closest to passing the test may occur at the midpoint, when Rey and Maz discuss Luke Skywalker’s light saber and how it affects Rey’s Jedi destiny. Rey is intimidated by her visions of the future, and she seeks to escape. But this is a feature of hero stories in general, not typically “female stories.” The go-to plot device for female stories (romance) is all but absent in The Force Awakens. While there’s a spark between Finn and Rey, Finn is mostly alone in his romantic pursuits. Rey is focused on her quest, and that’s where she soars. She’s a damn good hero: flawed like the rest of them, but still heroic. Frankly, this is a breath of fresh air. Even with very little dialogue between women, whether it’s about men or not, The Force Awakens offers up an empowering story with women who can pilot spaceships, bypass technology that even Han Solo can’t beat, and effectively master The Force in record time.

And how about the men of The Force Awakens? Finn himself shares much of the spotlight in this movie with Rey, and the two have incredible chemistry. While there’s potential for them to become romantic later on (in which case, let’s hope they’re not related!), this notion is nothing more than a series of jokes for now. In the Force Awakens, Rey and Finn have their individual heroic destinies to focus on, and as they progress toward increasingly difficult odds, their bond becomes deeper and stronger than any romance-heavy storyline could yield. Meanwhile, Finn’s friendship with Po is authentic and sweet, although it derives from a place of darkness: their shared escape from the oppressive grasp of The First Order. Up to now in the Star Wars universe, storm troopers have existed in the background, helmeted, mostly silent, and killing as needed without remorse. The new trilogy breaks new ground with the inclusion of a hard-hitting story about the psychological effects of being a storm trooper . . . and resisting. Indeed, this is perhaps one of the most interesting storylines in the franchise to date. Making something human that was never shown to be before has proven fruitful, and audiences are eager to see what other innovations J.J. Abrams and company have in store.

With all the good The Force Awakens does for Star Wars, it can’t escape some scrutiny. One semi-major plot hole is that Supreme Leader Snoke somehow discovers not only where BB-8 is, but also that he’s with Han Solo. While it’s OK to use The Force in creative ways, this sudden realization, after all this time searching for BB-8, is disappointing. With that said, it’s understandable to try to focus the story on the many more important elements in play throughout the movie. There’s only so much time, after all.

Having broken more records than any other film on, Star Wars: The Force Awakens is indeed a powerhouse, and it will be interesting to watch the remaining Star Wars films fight for records. No movie is perfect, but this is undoubtedly the strongest recent edition to the original franchise. The Force Awakens is funny, family-oriented, and, true to form, a geek’s paradise. With that said, the film is also gripping and emotional in ways that viewers haven’t yet witnessed in this universe. There’s something about a bloody storm trooper helmet that pushes new buttons in viewers from the get-go. If you’re one of the few who haven’t seen The Force Awakens, go now; if you’ve already seen it, give it another look. It’s going to be a while before the next one comes out.


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The Uses of the Body

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The Uses of the Body

-Poems Reviewed by Kendra Bartell

Deborah Landau’s third full collection of poems, The Uses of the Body, draws readers in with its quick pace and colloquial language. The book revels in what it means to be a woman, exploring all the funny, weird, lovely, and sad turns of the female body and spirit. Landau’s fierce and poignant diction throughout the short sixty-five-page collection is gripping.

“It scares me to watch/a woman hobble along/the sidewalk, hunched adiago” begins the first poem in the collection, titled I dont have a pill for that. From the start, Landau hints at an underlying current of fear that is constant in the collection. Throughout the work, the poems express the litany of “uses of the body” that can and do change with age. From reveling in the physicality of intimacy in an early relationship, to feeling like an incubator while pregnant, to a dull numbness in late marriage, Landau’s clear, crisp words evoke the fear and strangeness of a changing figure. In the first of a longer sequence of poems titled, Mr and Mrs End of Suffering, Landau presents the pleasure of the physical body:

One should make as full use as possible
before times up. In Paradise…We lay and many afternoons
brought pleasure and relief.

While at first pass the words do express a sense of pleasure, the warning concerning the progression of time shows this fear and awareness of the body’s limitations. “Don’t squander,” the poem reminds.

Landau refuses to let us forget. Time, like fear, is omnipresent in the work. We read early on, “Oh skin! What a cloth to live in./We are not at the end of things.” And later, “But we are only in the middle,/only midway…We are here and soon won’t be/(despite the cozy bed stuffed dog pillows books clock).” Then later: “Life accumulates, a series of commas,/first this, then that, then him, then here./A clump of matter/and here we are: minutes, years.” Landau refuses to stop staring back at the movement of time—she focuses on the raw essence of what it means to be alive. “We are here and soon won’t be.”

The Uses of the Body follows a loose timeline: courtship, marriage, pregnancies. Two sequences within the book convey two very different pregnancies, revealing the varied physical and emotional sensations that this state can inevitably imply. The first pregnancy is encapsulated in the “Mr and Mrs End of Suffering” sequence, which details a planned and desired pregnancy. The second poem, “Late Summer,” describes a surprise pregnancy. One of the most poignant poems details the fear of a first pregnancy and the complex considerations that go along with trusting a medical professional with the body inside your body: “Dr ______:”

Dr lay your hands on me.
Dr swoop in with needles and with knife.
Dr bleed me up and puncture me.
You are just doing your business,
this is just how you spend your life.
Dr remove the pests in me
prove me female then make me repent.

Landau doesn’t flinch from this honest depiction of pregnancy, the fact that it is the defining factor of femininity, and that the care and preparation can involve many terrifying doctor visits (visits to a doctor who, in the poems, is a male with “all the credentials” and is “swift with [his] hands”). The pregnancy results in a baby boy, “warm and plum as pie,” the new mother having “dreamed him and there he was.” This pregnancy carries with it the mother’s natural fears and worries.. There is also unexpected ambivalence and continued unease when the child arrives. She describes herself as having “all [her] guilt peeled off” after bringing the boy home. This offers a rare view on post-partum emotions—the new mother is raw in her understanding of herself in relation to the new baby.

“Late Summer” describes a surprise pregnancy and here Landau takes a different approach. The mother is now almost dangerously carefree; honest and unflinching in her words, she describes how she “could have drowned her could have crushed her/not knowing veined was she/and my blood rich and alcohol./She flipped around in there./I slept off the buzz in my hotel.” We see the pregnancy unplanned, unknown. The almost flippant tone is replaced later in the section with a tone of love: “She and I, we are perfect and slow,/we are hope and future leaning.” This section is a strikingly intimate view of how ones mind can change during pregnancy, as the expectant mother reimagines herself in relation to the growing fetus.

Landau’s collection is unapologetic: there is no hiding, no lessening of emotion. We feel and think as the poems compel. No apologies given or needed. The work is a refreshing, if stark, study of a woman’s mind, and one that is truly needed. The honesty of expression and experience regarding femininity is something to practice speaking and reading about, and Landau handles the subject masterfully.


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