Bad Joke Friday

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On choosing happiness

A lot of people I know–most people I know, likely—struggle with happiness. They struggle with keeping it once it’s found, and they struggle with finding it in the first place. Some struggle more mightily than that: some have to fight just to believe that happiness is a thing in the first place.

This is why I have problems when people say things like “Happiness is a choice” or otherwise imply (or state outright!) that one can simply decide to be happy. As if happiness is a simple matter of flipping a mental switch.

It’s not.

I had this exchange on Twitter the other day. An acquaintance whom I know to be very smart and energetic and hard-working in the pursuit of the concrete goals which she has set for herself asked this question:

Why is it this hard to be happy?

My answer (and I must grant that maybe she wasn’t even looking for an answer) was this:

In my experience, happiness is like anything else worth having: it requires constant work and can be fleeting.

She thanked me, and that was the end of the exchange.

But there was another exchange earlier that day, this time on Instagram, when someone posted in response to a particular selfie of mine:

I wish to enjoy life the way you do.

That amazed me, because there are many times when I feel as unhappy as anyone else. When I feel like true, enduring happiness is forever beyond my grasp, and that all I can achieve are discrete moments of happiness—a hint of it here, a taste of it there—without ever really being happy.

Other times, I feel just fine—but those moments of melancholy are frequent enough that I recognize them well. But I thought about that comment a lot, about how I look to some outside observers like a person who greatly enjoys life, and some thoughts crystalized.

Here’s the photo that earned that comment:

Water frolicking

Just a normal photo of me, decked out in blue denim Dickies overalls and a red henley shirt, standing knee deep in a stream with a tiny waterfall behind me.

Most Sunday mornings I have a ritual: Cane (or Dee-oh-gee 1.0) go out to one of the local nature parks or other such locations for a nice walk or hike, and then a stop at Tim Hortons on the way home for coffee (for me) and a donut (for him). I always take a bunch of photos as we walk. Cane smells things and looks at things and enjoys his change of scenery. One of our most common locations is Chestnut Ridge Park, which is in the hills just south of Orchard Park. It’s one of my favorite locales because of its rugged terrain, its numerous trails, and the several streams that flow through. (I’ll have a longer “Chestnut Ridge appreciation” post at some point.)

So it was a pleasantly warm morning, and Cane and I went wading in one of the streams. As you start getting to midsummer, the water levels can be iffy. Last year this area experienced a significant (for these parts) drought, which led to the streams being mostly dry for much of the summer. It’s been wetter this year, so there’s been a nice amount of water flowing thus far, and as long as I can recall, I’ve loved wading and swimming and generally frolicking in running streams in the forests. There’s a spot in Chestnut Ridge where the stream (which in most places isn’t much more than ankle deep, or maybe midway up my shins) plunges over a waterfall.

One of my favorite spots in the world. I love this little waterfall and pool. #stream #runningwater #waterfall #ChestnutRidge #wny #OrchardPark #summer

I know, not much of a waterfall—the mighty cataract is about eighteen inches, two feet max. But the sound is pleasant and the pool at the bottom is two, maybe two-and-a-half feet deep. And even better, this spot is a place where nobody almost ever goes! In all the time I’ve been going to Chestnut Ridge I’ve seen someone in that spot exactly twice. It’s easy to get to and it’s really close to the main road through the park, and yet it’s not obvious that it’s there, so almost no one treks down there. It’s a quiet little idyllic spot hidden in plain sight, which is one reason I love it.

This particular day was sunny and warm and very pleasant, and the water was pleasingly cool, so I waded into that deeper pool, up to my knees. This was pleasant enough, but there are times when the world whispers an invitation into your ear, and it was impossible to ignore. So I sat down in the water, fully clothed, overalls and all. (I emptied my pockets first.)

Water frolicking

Like I said, I’ve always loved running water and streams and especially forest streams, going back to whitewater kayaking I did as a teenager and ever farther. It’s hard-wired into me, so much so that I doubt I’ll ever voluntarily move to a place where there are no such places. A summer hike, to me, implies the existence of a spot somewhere along the hike where I can, if I’m hot and if the water is cool, just jump in for a few minutes.

Water frolicking

The trade-off is that I spent the rest of the hike in clothes that were soaked from neck to toe, but that wasn’t unpleasant in the least. In fact, it kept me pretty cool. And because I keep towels in the car, I didn’t even sully the driver’s seat. A good time was had by all.

Water frolicking

So I suppose I did appear, in those photos, to be enjoying life particularly well, and I really was. It was a set of wonderful moments. Sitting in the water with my back to that waterfall, feeling it rush around me? That was a connection of a kind I rarely feel. And that was some real happiness, right there.

Water frolicking

Thinking about these two exchanges, I have also thought of a passage I wrote in Stardancer several years ago. There’s a beautiful moment that comes for Tariana, and one of her quirks is that she always remembers quotes from poems and books she’s read as things happen to her. It’s how her brain filters her experiences. In this moment, she remembers the words:

A life is a collection of moments. We are shaped by the moments we remember.

Maybe I was having thoughts like these all those years ago when I was writing the book, and maybe I had these thoughts before that. But after thinking through these two exchanges online, I realize: I genuinely do see life as a sequence of moments, and I genuinely do believe that happiness as a large-scale, enduring goal is not the right way to view happiness. All we can do is try to maximize the number of happy moments we enjoy in life.

I do not believe that we can choose to be happy, any more than I can choose to be six foot eight. I can, however, choose to pursue experiences from moment to moment that make me happy. I can choose to take my greyhound out for hikes through beautiful places, and I can choose to eat pizza with sausage and banana peppers on it. I can choose to stop watching the local football team when all it ever does is make me angry, and I can choose to stop in the middle of my hike and dip myself fully-clothed in a pool in a stream.

Another quote?

“It will be as though they dipped themselves in magic waters.”
–Terrence Mann (James Earl Jones), Field of Dreams

I want to be careful about this. I am not endorsing the idea that one can choose happiness, because I generally believe this to be nonsense. And I certainly do not want to belittle the travails of those among us whose mental makeup, or outright mental illnesses, make it deeply difficult to make a choice of any kind at all, or those whose choices for similar reasons would be self-destructive or toxic to loved ones. These are serious problems and we need to be working on them.

But I do think that we chase happiness as a “state of mind” in a massive misframing of the problem. Perhaps constructing a happy life is a matter of constructing happy moments. There is no “holistic”, Zen-like approach to baking a cake: you have to sift your flour and measure your ingredients and mix them in the proper order for the proper time and bake it in the proper pan for the proper time at the proper temperature. Likewise, to build a shelf one must first draw up the design, make a cut-list of wood pieces, then do all the cutting, and only then start laying the thing out. Writing a book? Well, I always return to Stephen King’s metaphor of comparing novel-writing to building the Great Wall of China. One brick at a time, one word at a time.

Maybe a happy life is made of one happy moment at a time. Maybe. I don’t pretend to know entirely, and this thought-process is admittedly half-baked and it doesn’t properly account for people whose lives are a struggle just to function, much less think about making happy moments. But again, maybe reframing the question can shed some light on an approach.

Anyway, I’ll continue making one happy moment at a time, maximizing both my moments of happiness and my ability to create new ones. That’s why I believe in having as many goofy, silly little things to do as we can, whether it’s belting out showtunes in the shower or taking care of a couple of goldfish in a bowl or walking a dog every Sunday in a park. Or writing stories and blog posts. Or watching a lot of movies. Or listening to classical music and baseball games on the radio. Or maintaining a collection of certain things. Or, maybe, jumping fully-clothed into a pool of water or letting a friend hit you in the face with a coconut cream pie.

Adventurers #Cane #DogsOfInstagram #greyhound #ChestnutRidge #wny #OrchardPark #summer #overalls #dickiesworkwear #bluedenim #dungarees

Pies, Prismafied


(Oh, that pie in my face? That’s courtesy my friend Joyce, who retired from working at The Store a while back. She had seen photos of one of my other pie-related misadventures and indicated that she would love to pie me, so when I half-jokingly offered her the chance to do just that as my retirement gift to her, she jumped at the chance. The result:


She left happy, I left happy, everybody was happy. Which is the point of this post!)

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Plans: I got ’em!

I'm setting goals, you guys! #wheeee #amwriting
Well, half of 2017 is in the books! Wow, that sure went fast. So what’s coming down the pike? I’m glad you asked!

1. In terms of book releases, the next project on the horizon is THE CHILLING KILLING WIND, which is the supernatural thriller long code-named GHOSTCOP. I am hoping to release this book in September. This book will launch a series of novels featuring former police detective John Lazarus and his strange encounters with the supernatural. It is currently in the hands of a couple of very capable beta-readers, so we are hopefully on pace!

2. In terms of drafting new books, I am resuming work on ORION’S HUNTRESS, which you’ll recall is a new space opera series set in the same universe as THE SONG OF FORGOTTEN STARS, but with little to no plot overlap. It’s a big galaxy, and all of that. I don’t have a targeted release date for this book yet, but it won’t be until late 2018 at the earliest.

Then I plan to stick to space opera and return to my beloved Princesses and their pilot. It’ll be time to start working on FORGOTTEN STARS IV, for which I’ve already started generating plot notes and such. The next books in the series will form a tighter arc than the first three, so I’ll need to plot things farther out. In fact…gasp!…I’m thinking of outlining these books.

I know. It’s like it’s not even me anymore!

After a draft of FORGOTTEN STARS IV is done, then I plan to return to SEAFLAME!, the fantasy-adventure long code-named THE ADVENTURES OF LIGHTHOUSE BOY. I’ve been waffling on this project because I have Book One drafted, but the whole story is told in two books, so I’ve been trying to figure out if I should draft Book Two before doing any editing, or do an edit of Book One first and then draft the second. I’m leaning strongly to the latter, with both books getting some much more serious editing later on after both are written. SEAFLAME! is basically one very long book that I am splitting in two, and once both are out, it will be done.

I expect that all of this work will take me far into 2018, so after that, who knows? Maybe FORGOTTEN STARS V, maybe a third John Lazarus book.

3. And let’s not forget about editing! The major editing project will be getting THE CHILLING KILLING WIND ready for publication, and I have a draft of THROUGH THE PALE DOOR (the sequel) done, which will require some very heavy lifting. There’s also the afore-mentioned SEAFLAME!, the first book of which will receive a light edit before I draft the second half of the story, and I also have a draft of a supernatural thriller involving a doomed kayaking expedition in the wilds of Alaska. (This last is a one-shot, no series, no sequel.)

So I am not lacking for projects to keep me busy. In fact, I’ve booked myself probably well into 2019 at this point. Yay, me! And, whew.

Swamped

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Two Hundred Forty One

I’m not going to lie, folks: it feels different this year. But this is still America and it’s still my home.

It is complicated.

Obviously in a country this size we’re never all going to be on the same page. Heck, even if the country totaled 200 people, we wouldn’t all be on the same page. But the size of the disconnect right now is pretty staggering and more than a little daunting, in terms of the future.

But this is still America and it’s still my home.

I don’t know where we’re going, I don’t know where we want to go, and I fear that not enough people want America to go where it seems to me that it really needs to, and should, go.

But this is still America and it’s still my home.

I’m not fighting today. I’m celebrating and thinking and reading and listening to music. I’ll fight again tomorrow.

Because this is still American and it’s still my home.

Happy birthday to the red, white, and blue.

Red, white, and blue. Happy birthday, America! #independenceday #july4th #america

Happy birthday, America! #independenceday #july4th #america


And now, the text of a post I occasionally run on this day:

Here’s a really weird story. It’s so weird, I’m not sure the historians didn’t make it up out of whole cloth. It seems that around 235 years ago or so, some folks living in a place under the rule of a King decided that they didn’t much like the way that King was ruling them. At all. They pretty much decided, en masse, that their King was behaving, to use a current term, like a douche.

Now, over the many centuries before these folks came along, lots of other folks in other lands have decided that their Kings and Queens were being douchey, so they came up with ways to replace them. They’d organize revolts, usually behind the banner of some obscure relative of the monarch’s so they could say that their person has a better claim to the throne, and off they’d go. So you’d expect that the folks we’re talking about here would have just said, “You know what? Our King is a douche. Let’s replace him with a new King.”

But these folks didn’t say that. What they said was, “Not only does our King suck, but he sucks so much that we’re now thinking maybe we won’t even have any more Kings. We’ll do it all ourselves.”

Over a year or so, there were some battles and skirmishes between these folks and the troops sent by the King to put down the pesky rebels, but it didn’t work, and that notion — “No more Kings and Queens!” — took hold. It became a really popular idea, so finally, these folks appointed some representatives to gather in one of their cities and talk these issues over. The conversation went like this:

GUY #1: So, we’re all agreed then? Kings suck?

GUY #2: Yes, Verily, they suck.

GUY #1: OK, so what do we do?

GUY #3: Well, we’re already fighting, so we just keep fighting. But we should probably tell the King that we’re being serious and we’re not just a bunch of rabble-rousers here.

GUY #1: Right! How do we do that?

GUY #4: How ’bout a letter? I’ve got some nice parchment, quills, and a new bottle of ink.

GUY #2: Good idea! But you’re about as eloquent as my cow. You’ll just write “Hey King, sod off” and be done with it. We should be a bit more poetic about it.

GUY #4: How about Tom? He’s pretty poetic.

GUY #1: Good idea! Let Tom do it. Now where’s that Adams guy with the beer?

So a guy named Tom wrote the King a sternly-worded letter. It was pretty wordy, given the standards of the time, so here’s a paraphrase:

Dear King,

We the undersigned, being representatives of the people of your colonies, have collectively decided that you are a douche and we don’t want to live under your rule anymore. Furthermore, we’re going to come up with a government of our own that won’t even have a King. Now, we’ve just called you a douche, so you’re probably thinking that we should be kind enough to at least tell you all the reasons we have for thinking you’re a douche, so there’s a list of those reasons later on. For now, suffice it to say that we believe in Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. And you don’t. And since we like the whole Life and Liberty thing a lot more than we like you, we’re gonna take those and let you do whatever it is you do with your time in that Palace of yours.

So, here’s the list of ways you’ve pissed us off. Note how long it is. You don’t have to be a douche, you know.

See? Really, dude. There’s no reason for some of that stuff, right? So anyway, have a good life and all. You’ve still got your island, and Canada seems pretty happy with you for some reason (but really, they’re weird folks to begin with, what with that odd game they like to play on ice). But we’re out of here.

Signed,
All the guys present

PS: Could you make sure your soldiers always wear those bright red coats? It makes it really easy to see ’em in the forests. KTHXBAI.

And so it came to pass that after some years of war, and some further years of cruddy government, they all got together again and figured out how they wanted to set up their new, “No Kings!” government. Their notion was to spread power out amongst a bunch of folks who were accountable to the people, and to further make sure that their government was required to respect certain rights that couldn’t be taken away. It was a really weird idea…and yet, these folks worked hard to make it work, and their children kept working hard to make it work, and their children kept at it, and so on and so on and son on, until today.

Does it still work? Sometimes yes, sometimes not so much. But we’re still here, and we’re still working at it.

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Tone Poem Tuesday

It’s July 4, so here is some American music. Enjoy.

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Bad Joke Friday

Calvin gets in on the act! (Hobbes is not amused.)

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Something for Thursday (Twenty Years of HARRY POTTER edition)

Twenty years. Well done, Mr. Potter! Thank you, @jk_rowling! #books #harrypotter

The other day marked the twentieth anniversary of the initial publication of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (or Philosopher’s Stone, if you live in Britain–and I guess I should link that first since that’s where the book came first). I could wax poetic for quite a long post about Harry Potter and the enormous effects on culture those books had, but others have weighed in more intelligently than I could on those points. I, like many others, have had my own “personal journey” with Harry Potter, starting with sometime in what must have been 1999 when I started noticing these books with the unusual cover art and title font on the front displays at Borders, and very prominently placed in the childrens’ section. By the time I was aware of the growing Harry Potter phenomenon, there were already three books out, and I bought the first one out of curiosity.

And I loved it, right from the get go–right from the opening paragraph. I mean, that first book’s opening paragraph is some seriously wonderful stuff! Don’t take my word for it, either: look what this fan did with it:

I never looked back, eagerly snatching up each book as it came out and squeezing it into my reading time. By the release of Deathly Hallows, the last book, I was in as much a fever-pitch as anyone, and I remember a kind of Devil’s bargain I made with The Daughter at the time, who was about eight years old: on a Sunday afternoon I told her that she could play videogames for as long as she wanted. Then I went out on the balcony of our apartment and plowed through the last four hundred or so pages of that book.

I’ve been meaning to reread the Potter books for some time now, and perhaps this winter it will finally be time to do so. (In honesty, I associate the books–as I do most fantasy–with the cooler months. I’ve never been sure why that is, because fantasy is not an inherently autumnal genre.) I also need to rewatch the movies, which are, for the most part, excellent adaptations and retellings of the story.

One final note: I included a call-back to Harry in Stardancer. How could I not? While the situation involving Lt. Rasharri’s revelation to Tariana Osono of her powers isn’t so confrontational as when Hagrid tells Harry that he’s a wizard, it was hard not to see this moment in my story as a reflection of the earlier one.

I always meant this scene in STARDANCER to partially be a callback to HP & THE SORCERER'S STONE. #amwriting #harrypotter

And now, since this is Something for Thursday and all, some music!

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“I believe in Love” (Thoughts on WONDER WOMAN)

SPOILERS for WONDER WOMAN below. Seriously. I make ZERO effort to not spoil the movie.


Wonder Woman II


I have always counted Wonder Woman among my favorite superheroes, even though I never read her comics all that much. I wasn’t much of a comics reader until I was a teenager, and my main exposure to Wonder Woman as a kid came via the wonderfully fun–if highly campy–teevee show with Linda Carter. When I was seven or eight I bought, with my parents’ help, a copy of the Wonder Woman installment in a series of books called the Encyclopedia of Comic Book Heroes. Even though I knew next to nothing about Wonder Woman’s lengthy mythology at that point, I still enjoyed thumbing through that book and reading the entries on the various people and villains in Wonder Woman’s life and imagining the stories. There are times when reading about stories can be as thrilling to the imagination as reading the stories themselves.

Later, when I became a regular comics reader in the mid-1980s, I didn’t read Wonder Woman at all. At that time, DC Comics was in a creative rut and I gravitated toward the exciting and emotional (or downright angsty) Marvel books. Wonder Woman was actually put on a hiatus while DC pulled off a massive reboot of their entire comics universe in an event mega-miniseries (I know, that term makes no sense, deal with it), and after that, Wonder Woman herself received a reboot from Square One in a new series by Len Wein and George Perez. That’s when I jumped on board, because I absolutely loved that series. It was bright and cheerful and humorous and filled with adventure and mythology. That book came along, with its colorful tone, right around the time that Marvel was starting to get pretty dark in its own storytelling, what with gang wars and straight-up noir in the Spider Man books and the Mutant Massacre in the X-titles.

Eventually, of course, Wonder Woman had to get her own movie, right? Except even that took forever. There were abandoned scripts and false starts galore, most notably a script by Joss Whedon (which I have not read but which recently came to light and received some criticism from feminist voices I respect). As a Wonder Woman film came closer and closer to being a reality, though, I became nervous. DC’s track record in its superhero movies has not been especially inspiring. Yes, the Nolan Batman films are good (the first two, anyway, I haven’t seen the third), but the new take on Superman has proven to be a grim, washed-out exercise in violence and grimdark, and while I thought that there was a lot to like in the Green Lantern movie, there was simply too much in that movie, resulting in something of an overstuffed mess. I was skeptical, frankly, that the DC creative voices–with their Superman who kills, and their constantly-brooding Batman–could do justice to Wonder Woman.

Now the movie is here, and they have done justice to Wonder Woman.

They made a wonderful movie that does honor to the character, that isn’t depressingly dark, that leaps and soars with all the thrilling wonder that a superhero movie should (doubly so if that word is in the very title), and tells a story of good versus evil that is nevertheless nuanced and thoughtful. Wonder Woman may well join Superman (1978), Spider Man 2, and Guardians of the Galaxy as my favorite superhero films ever.

Every first film featuring a newly-adapted superhero has to be an origin story, which is probably why the most frequent complaint I’ve seen about Wonder Woman is that we don’t really see Princess Diana in full-Wonder Woman regalia until we’re halfway (or more) through the film’s generous run time. Frankly, I didn’t care. Everything that precedes her arrival is engaging and fun, and the film’s first act–depicting Diana’s youth and coming-of-age on Themyscira–is an engaging mini-film in its own right. We begin with a brief precis of the film’s basis in Greek mythology, done with a stylized animation sequence that calls Greek theater to mind and establishes Ares, the God of War, as the main villain behind everything that has happened. How the movie handles that main villain is one of its more interesting aspects, but more on that later, because the film takes us to Themyscira, the secret hidden island of the Amazon warriors whose task it will one day be to fight Ares once and for all. Here we finally meet Princess Diana, but as a young girl who has been forbidden by her mother to train as a warrior. So of course that becomes Diana’s greatest dream, and she watches all the training sessions in secret, mimicking her warrior sisters’ movements from afar. These moments establish Diana for us: her aspirations show that she is born for battle and will never shrink from it.

Of course, trouble soon intrudes upon the island of the Amazons, in the form of an airplane that somehow punches through the magical mist that conceals it from the rest of the world. The plane crashes in the sea, and Diana rescues its pilot. He is Steve Trevor of the United States, and he will become the great love of Diana’s life. But along with him comes war–World War I to be precise–and it is Trevor’s arrival that reveals to Diana that Ares has once more come forth. It is her time to leave and confront him.

The film’s approach to Ares is very interesting. After listening to Steve Trevor’s descriptions of what he is doing–his mission involves stopping a German military scientist who is developing some kind of super weapon–Diana becomes convinced that Trevor’s quarry is really Ares in human form. Who else could he be, after all? Who else would be behind the creation of a weapon that can kill thousands if not millions in one strike? More, though, Diana believes that by defeating Ares, she will defeat war itself, and that humanity will put aside its darkness and lay aside their weapons for good. Steve Trevor doesn’t know what to do with this. He does not share Diana’s belief. But he knows that something must be done, that Diana is a strong ally, and that he stands a far greater chance of success with her than without her.

(Some have complained about the film’s backdating Diana’s origin story to the WWI era as opposed to the traditional WWII as was the case in the comics, but this whole “Defeating war itself” subtext is served well by being set during what was thought to be “the war to end all wars”.)

So in a way the movie gives us two villains for the price of one, embodied in the same character. This dual way of looking at the villain, from the differing viewpoints of two protagonists, is one of the film’s master strokes. For Steve Trevor, the German scientist is a clear and present danger to untold thousands of innocent people. He is constantly talking of this villain in practical terms, reminding Diana of those very untold numbers who will die if the man’s plan succeeds. Diana, on the other hand, is battling the very idea of war itself and wishes to triumph by destroying the god who fuels it. It’s natural that Diana, with her belief system drawn from the ancient Greek pantheon, would see things this way. (And to the film’s credit, we get to see Steve Trevor grappling with this notion, while at the same time respecting the belief and the person who holds it.)

There is a problem here for the story, of course. If Diana stops Ares, there can be no more war, and we know that there will be, time and again. As Diana sees things, destroying Ares will unleash upon the world an epoch of peace unlike any other. We know that this does not come to pass…but by the same token, the film introduces Ares (or the concept of Ares) in the very opening minutes. To do all that and not have Ares himself show up would be an unbelievable cop-out. So Ares must show up, and show up he does (and his appearance may or may not surprise you–reaction I’ve seen seems to run about 50-50 on this), with the answer of how there will still be war in the absence of the very god who creates it. The answer, of course, is that humans themselves are the true engines of war and that all Ares need do is give a little nudge here, and little whispered inspiration in the ear of a superweapon-inventor there. To wage war, Ares tells us, is simply a part of human nature and it will go on with or without him. Thus he flips to dilemma back upon Diana: If humans are the true masters of war, why should she strive to save them at all?

Diana’s answer is a common one, but the reason it’s common is, I think, because it’s true. Even if war is a part of the human condition, so is love, and Diana has come to see this firsthand. Just before she ultimately delivers her final attack on Ares, she says the words that form the title of this post: “I believe in love.” It seems to me that Harry Potter came up with the same answer to a similar question, didn’t he?

For Diana, her discovery that humans are capable of staggering love in addition to staggering war isn’t just born of a romantic attraction to Steve Trevor. It’s something else. Not only has she fallen in love with Trevor–or so I believe she has, the movie does not outright state that she has, and I think it’s right to do so–but she has also seen that he has fallen in love with her but is also willing to put that love aside for a greater sense of love and duty. She has just witnessed Steve Trevor willingly sacrificing himself to destroy the superweapon before it can be deployed. Even though Trevor’s last words to Diana were “I love you,” his actions after demonstrate for her everything about humanity that is worth saving, even though Ares speaks truth when he tells her that war also lies at the very heart of humanity. Diana will oppose war with everything she has, but not at the expense of destroying love. In this moment she rejects Ares and his attempts to seduce her to his side.

Steve Trevor’s declaration of his love for Diana doesn’t come out of nowhere, but the film refreshingly doesn’t beat us over the head with their love affair either, such as it is. The film does show some of the romantic tension between the two, but it downplays it, keeping it mildly flirtatious and establishing that the chemistry between Diana and Trevor isn’t exclusively romantic. It’s a chemistry of two people, newly met, who find themselves fervent allies against a common thing. It is a chemistry of intelligent people who are both, for various reasons, unable to really belong in the world.

It’s too bad that Steve Trevor had to die in this film (mainly to accommodate the upcoming Justice League stuff, which I find a little disappointing because I honestly don’t care about any of that), because Gal Gadot and Chris Pine have terrific screen chemistry together. I’ve been liking Chris Pine for a while now. He’s good at portraying men of competence who aren’t utterly cocksure of themselves, men who make mistakes and learn from them. His Steve Trevor is clearly inferior to his Amazon captors and he is constantly unsure of what to make of all of Diana’s talk of Ares and defeating war and the rest of the mythological stuff. Pine does not portray Trevor as condescending or as blowing off Diana’s beliefs as naivete; rather, he shows Steve Trevor as believing Diana but not being sure of how any of it fits into his own world. At the end he figures it out in the heartbreaking moment that leads to his demise. Chris Pine has a fine line to walk here: He has to be able to convince Diana of humanity’s worth, and he has to be able to portray that he is actually awakening emotions in Diana that are surely alien to her.

And when Steve Trevor’s final moment comes, Chris Pine doesn’t give us a lantern-jawed hero who is unflinching in the face of his own death. He has to take a few deep breaths, close his eyes, make what little peace he can with what’s about to happen. He’s afraid, even in the moment of utter bravery. Chris Pine nails every moment of this, and it’s fantastic.

Even more fantastic, though, is Gal Gadot. She is the rock at the center of this movie, and the film belongs to her. Her Diana is otherworldly without being alien. She is strong and skilled, intelligent and persistent. She is heroic without that hint of a “dark side” that we seem to demand of our heroes today, where they are always trying to avenge some awful and unavengeable wrong in their past. Gadot vests her Diana with a strong sense of driving purpose, and also with an infecting curiosity and amazement about the world in which she finds herself. In her battle scenes she conveys Wonder Woman’s strength and skill without making it look effortless. Her skill is earned, not given. Gadot’s Diana is a warrior who has put in the long, long hours sparring with others and training and practicing. Gadot’s Diana works in every battle, observing and planning and reacting as she fights, and there are moments when she shows real fear. Gadot’s vulnerability in this movie is a practical and real vulnerability, and when the time comes to grapple with Ares’s awful dilemma, Diana’s resistance isn’t a perishing of heart but one of thought: Gadot shows us that Diana is still thinking, trying to reason through the dilemma, looking for a way out that doesn’t involve casting her lot with the God of War. For all the great work by the rest of the film’s cast, the whole thing would fall apart if not for Gal Gadot’s work.

(I overheard one moviegoer afterwards, griping about David Thewlis turning out to be Ares. She said something like “He has no business being the main villain.” Look, to each their own and all that, but…no. That’s just dumb.)

On a production note, I’ve read and heard some other complaints regarding the film’s appearance. At first glance, it does seem to spend most of its time in a similar kind of muted-color, washed-out appearance like the current incarnation of the Superman movies. This artistic choice made sense to me, though. First of all, the time period seems to almost require it, and the film’s look is better compared to the first Captain America film than the other grimdark DC stuff these days. Secondly, though, I like the color scheme as an artistic choice, because the Themyscira scenes are shot in vibrant color and the tone only goes more dark once Diana arrives in the world of humans during an enormous war. This is a reversal of the color scheme of The Wizard of Oz, and as such it makes great sense to me. (I also note that the film’s framing sequences, which very briefly establish Diana Prince working in the present day at the Louvre, are shot in vibrant color as well. In all honesty I didn’t think the film needed those sequences, which seem present more to establish Diana’s presence for future DC cinematic universe stuff than anything else, but I’m willing to overlook them.)

Penny Jenkins’s direction is as solid as it gets, too. The focus is always where it should be, and Jenkins gives all of her actors time and room to do their thing. Nothing drags, but nothing is rushed either, and in the battle sequences it is always clear what’s going on and why. Maybe the movie makes a little too much use of the “sudden slow-motion”, bullet-time kind of thing, but even if so, I’m mostly fine with it. It’s hard to show the kinds of superhuman things that superheroes do in any other way, and those sorts of shots seem to me more call-backs to the static-image comic-book origins of these stories.

In the end, I loved this movie. I loved its story and the way that it takes its time letting that story unfold. I love that it manages to make the stakes both hugely epic and deeply personal. I love that it earns every one of its emotional beats and that its characters are real, with real flaws and not a bunch of stereotypes. I am looking forward to a sequel and seeing more of Gadot and her incarnation of Wonder Woman, although I would almost rather see her continue to enjoy solo adventures as opposed to following the Marvel hero route of each film laying more groundwork for a larger story. (This is mostly because thus far the DC movies have not been inspiring confidence.)

Wonder Woman lives, and I could not be happier.

(But hey, can the next movie have the invisible airplane in it?)

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Eighteen years and counting….

In the space of the last week, The Daughter has turned eighteen and graduated from high school.

I’m proud and amazed, and more than a little astonished that so much time could have elapsed so quickly.

So what’s next? Who knows…but as always, the sky is the limit.

Graduation yesterday. Today...what's next?

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Bad Joke Friday

Why you can’t tell a knock knock joke to a dog:

*knock knock*

*BARK BARK BARK BARK*

[Editor’s note: A greyhound variant of this goes thusly:

*knock knock*

*zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz*

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