In Which I Anxiously Await The Release Of Outlander On May 19.

Note to self: this one probably isn't going to make it to the Criterion Collection, which might be a good thing, because I won't have to pay forty dollars for the pleasure of endlessly rewatching this Beowulf-themed Iron age/Space age science fiction/Viking saga. Instead, I'm sure, the movie will be so bad it's good, which would be a lot better than the last film I saw starring Jim Caviezel which was an anti-Semitic snuff film about someone named Jesus, a movie which was so gruesome in its scenes of spurting blood and rampant gore that at one point tears of ???????? came to my eyes just as I felt my senses were being completely violated for the thirty billionth time. Of course, there is also the possibility that Outlander will just be good, but I will have to wait until the nineteenth of May to find out, and besides, according to some unnamed persons who will continue to be granted their anonymity, or rather I should say according to my roommate Dana, I have "disappointing" taste in movies. See! I am such a bad person. I let people down. On that note, have I ever mentioned that I really like that movie Timeline, based on a Michael Crichton novel, about archaeologists who travel back in time to medieval France? Do you, you ask. In fact I do. Thank you.

In Which I Renew My Committment To Having A Crush On Beowulf

Just an example of some of the Beowulf paraphernalia I have accumulated. Please notice that at least one of the paraphernalia is the book.

Lately I've been so busy. Working full time. Hanging out with friends. Writing two non-Beowulf themed novellas. Going jogging. In fact I've almost forgotten about how excited I am anticipating the May 2009 DVD release of Outlander, starring Jim "Jesus" Caviezel as some dude from outer space who lands in a Viking settlement and ends up fighting an epic monster (also from outer space, as to my understanding). According to Wikipedia, my main source of information these days, because this handy informational website is only one click of the mouse away and therefore does not involve me getting out of my super-comfy vintage office chair (in a lovely, nubby, burnt orange fabric, I might add), one of the characters names is Hrothgar, so you can probably see where I am going with this. I almost think it might be time for me to do a Beowulf tie-in of my own. After all, I have been making such a fuss about a poem in a dead language for so long, it only seems like the next logical step. Look, I can already say a few things in Anglo-Saxon. Like "se geong mon." Which means "the young man." Clearly I am on my way to something really big here.


In other news, I feel totally vindicated regarding my great fondness for the movie "Beowulf and Grendel," a movie inveterate blogger and poet Jack Morgan claimed was "bad." But my friend, the super-smart and very talented poet Trevor Calvert, (who has a book you should read called "Rarer and More Wonderful") on the other hand, thinks "Beowulf and Grendel" is a fantastic film, and I am pretty sure he is not merely being swayed by a good-looking actor in a long-haired wig. Really, if you ask me, the movie (which is admittedly pretty post-modern in its treatment of Grendel) is about what happens when you open a door by committing an immoral act and then don't get to decide what comes back over the threshold at you. And Grendel, who is wronged by Hrothgar, brings measureless violence back upon him. Sort of like Alfred Hitchcock's "Psycho." Janet Leigh doesn't just get it from Norman Bates. She embezzles the money from her boss and then she gets it from Norman Bates. In the shower. Thank you.

The Big Musical, Act 3: Beowulf Meets Last Of The Mohicans Man.

I'm really enjoying spending time with Beowulf. However, I could have skipped that walk in the park when he caught and roasted a squirrel just because I said I felt like a snack. Frankly speaking, his dark age ardor can be a bit much sometimes, but he's so attentive! All the same, I realize my first duty is to help Beowulf and his men get back to the work of inspiring great literature before history is changed forever and the space-time continuum collapses.

Using the now discarded washer-dryer unit, the "cooking box," a wire hanger and a few pine cones, I rig up a rudimentary time portal that I think will do the trick. Much hilarity ensues as the men burn their Jamba Juice uniforms on a makeshift bonfire on the cement slab that is my backyard before donning breeches and armor for the trip home to the frigid north fifteen hundred years ago. Only Beowulf and I stand a little apart, both cognizant of how much has passed between us and that we may never see each other again.

"You could come with us," he sings in a moving solo as the smoke from the Jamba Juice uniforms drifts over the yard. As much as the prospect of living in another time and place has entranced me since my youth, disability checks were not invented until more recently. Also, I try to explain to Beowulf about fifth century psychiatric wards, but he doesn't understand. "It's called burning at the stake." Then he gets it.

"No, Beowulf," I insist softly. "I must remain." We kiss passionately, then one by one, Beowulf's men spring into the eerie blue screen of light that emanates from the device. In fact, the eerie blue screen of light is so blue that it resembles a waterfall. From the cave where I am hiding, I can hear the French soldiers coming. Beowulf (all of his men already through the portal) turns one final time to gaze at me with impossibly blue eyes almost glassy with unshed tears and sings forcefully, "Stay alive! No matter what occurs! I will find you!" Then he too turns and leaps into the eerie blue screen.

I stand in the yard, overcome by the sudden stillness and the fumes of the burning Jamba Juice uniforms. Just five minutes ago, my life had been full of adventure and the sort of men who'd never had the time or inclination to let themselves go. Now, I'm left with a refrigerator full of unidentifiable raw meat and a fire extinguisher.

But then something unexpected happens. (More unexpected than all of the above, of course.) Instead of disappearing, the wavy blue light starts to crackle and turn green. In a sudden explosion that does the props master proud and causes a few screams from the audience, Beowulf and his men tumble wildly out of the gulf followed by. . . Selma! As played by my cat, Gerard Butler (MC,GB) she's resplendent in red gown and cloak and matted, twig-like hair. As the music rolls and the curtain gets ready to fall in preparation for the fourth and final act, Selma sashays her way through the confused mess of bodies and smoke straight towards me and plants a big wet one right on my lips. The music changes. Bom-chick-a-bom-bom. Curtain. Huge applause. Next up: Beowulf, the adult film.

Isn't MC,GB Just Darling? Don't You Just Want To Forget About The Big Pain In The Ass That He Is?

MC,GB cutely endears himself to me, ensuring his survival

And now MC,GB just flickered his ear at me. Oh MC,GB, why can't you always be just this cute and fuzzy and still instead of peskily chasing chubby co-pet Morgen or standing on the counter making dishes fall down? And is it time for your expensive flea treatment again? How time has flown with the passage of time! It feels like just yesterday I was squashing you into place between my legs as I let a thin syrupy fluid ooze onto the naked skin of your neck from a snazzy green applicator. (Speaking of pesky--stop squirming!)

Regardless, I can barely keep up with your gargantuan needs for high quality cat food and kitty litter. It is high time I carry through on my threat to force you to take a part-time job to defray your living expenses. As you may know, I am currently staging rehearsals for Beowulf Man!, a Broadway-style musical that combines elements of everyone's favorite epic poem (unless you're into Gilgamesh) and the more recent artistic offering, Encino Man. As it stands, production costs are skyrocketing and you would be doing everyone a huge favor if you would just crawl out from under the futon or whatever other warm, dark nest you are hiding in and play Selma pro bono so I do not have to hire another actor. And you better do a good job because your gourmet cat treats are riding on ticket sales. The show must go on, even if none of the costumes are laundered.

Beowulf Man! The Musical. Act Two.

The curtain rises. Beowulf and his trusty band have successfully removed the malfunctioning washer-dryer unit from my apartment and are refreshing themselves with lemonade from concentrate. As Beowulf and I communicate in my bastardized amalgamation of English and German and his fifth century lingua franca, I reflect upon the fact that despite having a landlord, it still takes a witch, a spell gone awry, and a hero and his men frozen in time to remove an unwieldy appliance down the cramped back stairwell of my now (even more) overcrowded apartment. I try to explain my gratitude to Beowulf as he picks some unfamiliar lemon pulp off his tongue.

Me: How can I repay you and your men for removing the broken washer-dryer unit for my apartment and placing it on the cement slab that is my back yard?

Beowulf: Where am I? Can you help me get home?

And thus the second act begins in earnest. (Where is MC,GB in all of this? MC,GB does not like strangers and is recuperating from the shock of so many sudden house guests by hiding under my futon.)

As I wrack my brains trying to remember everything I learned about time travel from traveling with the Doctor, Beowulf and his men produce general hilarity as they sing and dance and flail their massive jazz hands while recounting the trials and tribulations of being transported out of one's own time, frozen in ice, and dropped from an airplane onto a North Oakland cement slab. For my part, I find I constantly have to reinvent language to explain the contrivances of twenty-first century American life. For example, the microwave becomes the "cooking box," whereas the toaster oven and space heater become, "Don't touch that! You could burn the house down." We really get some good laughs when I take the men to Target (Tar-jay, I explain) for some new clothes and then to Super Cuts for haircuts and beard trims. Anyone staying indefinitely at my apartment is going to need at least a part time job if they want to eat like a warrior. One of the group, Hondscio, I think, seems a little lewd and grabby with the buxom stylist but I'm pretty sure he's going to get it from Grendel once the he gets back to the fifth century, so I let his chauvinistic behavior slide for now. Also, I am pretty sure the men are feeling restless without any trolls to kill. And even more also, there is something kind of sad about watching all these long-haired berserkers lose their locks in order to get jobs at Jamba Juice.

At this point, Beowulf and his men break away from the comic stance taken so far and deliver a poignant and heartfelt plea to the audience for understanding of their plight.

Hondscio: Please don't tell me not grab that tit!

Beowulf: But we're in a different time! We're living it!

The company: We want our old clothes back! We want out old lives back!

Me: (suddenly dire) I waaaaa-aant my hoooou-se back!!

The second act ends with a tete-a-tete between Beowulf and myself. By this time we have become pretty close as I shepherd him through twenty-first century life. There have even been hints at romance. Apparently, a witch, a spell gone awry, and a hero and his men frozen in time is also what it takes to get me a boyfriend. We share a sweet kiss with the promise of more to light-hearted music. Then curtain. Foreboding music. Intermission.

Beowulf! The Musical Is Here. Or, More Accurately, Beowulf Meets Encino Man! The Musical Is Here.

The landing pad

Act One:

Selma, the 'sensual witch,' accidentally casts a spell that leaves Beowulf and his trusty band of men frozen in magical ice until the end of time. The spell must have a few fissures, though, because when a twenty-first century scientist discovers the frozen fifth century warriors while hunting frozen primordial woolly mammoth, a lot of wacky hi-jinks ensue.

For example, the ice is cut into blocks (one warrior per block) and flown to a museum in California in a temperature-controlled jet plane. But amidst all this careful planning something goes comically amiss. For further example, the airplane accidentally drops its dark age payload directly over my back yard in North Oakland. Since I only have a cement slab behind my house instead of nice, bourgeois grass, there is nothing to cushion the magical blocks of ice from unmagically shattering upon impact. Because I mistake the loud noises for gun shots, I don't bother to get up right away. But once I finish my lunch and look out the window, Beowulf and his trusty band are fully thawed and milling about the yard in a confused manner.

I immediately assess the situation. I am pretty sure that the apparent leader of the group is the same man who showed up at my door several months ago, rudely interrupting my Sunday morning with his sullen stare and tangled hair demanding that I unhand my cat, MC,GB. I step outside and approach Beowulf carefully, using clever tactics to trick him into affirming his identity.

Me: Are you Beowulf?

Beowulf: Yes.

Me: Our washer-dryer unit is broken. We're going to need you and your men to carry it down the back stairs if you want to stay with us.

Beowulf: It's a deal.

Then we all break out the jazz hands as Beowulf sings powerfully:

Where aaaa-am I?
All I know is I was frozen in the snow!

Where aaaa-am I?
All I know is that I've got to get back home!

Etcetera. Curtain. More to come.

You're A Wonderful Writer. No Doubt About That.

Aaah. Rejection with such sweet words is not nearly as terrible as rejection with harsh words or none at all. Here is what I wrote for Bitch magazine. They want me to keep sending them stuff even though they've returned twice. I guess that's the way it goes. It is long though. I warn you. I wrote it before the movie came out.


SOMETHING IS ROTTEN IN DENMARK
(AND I THINK IT MIGHT BE AN APPLE)

Or, how a much-anticipated new movie fails to pass the bar for an enlightened (or just less obnoxious) view of womankind and how some movies you’ve probably never heard of do.

Awhile ago I was rooting around the movie section of a major chain bookstore when one of the films caught my eye. But when I flipped the DVD box to read the description for Beowulf and Grendel, I couldn’t help but feel a little confused. Sarah Polley as ‘Selma?’ The English major in me wanted to know just who this Selma was. Did I sleep through that part of the poem? The DVD box had only this much to say: “When Beowulf meets Selma (Sarah Polley), a mysterious and sensual witch, his understanding of revenge is further complicated.” So Selma’s, what? The Beowulf love interest? Despite a genuine admiration for all things Sarah Polley, I have a good laugh and run home to irreverently put the movie at the top of my Netflix queue.

*

At the time I was a neophyte. But looking back I can see how this little movie with its stunning cinematography and beautiful soundtrack has opened the door for me into the phenomenon that is the Beowulf Adaptation. What’s even more interesting, for our purposes, is examining what contemporary filmic versions of a very non-contemporary Anglo-Saxon poem (of which the only surviving manuscript dates from the eleventh century) can tell us about the roles available to women in twenty-first century media. Of all the Beowulf Adaptations out there, I will be focusing on the aforementioned Beowulf and Grendel (2005), and a futuristic sci-fi Christopher Lambert flick (1999) as well as the November 16, 2007 Robert Zemeckis film release starring Angelina Jolie as Grendel’s dam and based on a screenplay by Neil Gaiman and Roger Avary. Because the movie isn’t out at the time of this writing, I’m cheating by using the novelization (based on the screenplay) by Catherine R. Kiernan and published by Harper Collins. Since Neil Gaiman wrote the introduction, I’m presuming he endorses it. And after all, I think it’s fair to call this text an adaptation in its own right. (I am not, however, even going to gloss the misogyny inherent to the Michael Crichton/Antonio Banderas Beowulf knock-off, The 13th Warrior where ‘Grendel’ is really a group of cave-dwelling, mother goddess worshipping cannibals. Oh my. But by all means, check it out for yourself. Make sure to note the little Venus de Milo figurines the bad guys carry around on their belts.)
Of course it’s only fair to start with the poem itself. Written down by an anonymous poet sometime in the early eleventh century, the poem would probably have been told and retold from generation to generation before that. However, experts say historical events in the poem can be dated to the fifth century. Beowulf is the story of a hero who travels both far and near to deliver his people from suffering. First as a young man, Beowulf travels with a band of warriors to relieve his one-time benefactor, the Danish King Hrothgar, of a murderous troll and also kill’s the troll’s revengeful mother. Fifty years later, Beowulf sacrifices his own life to protect his people and slay a dragon. Set in a biblical context, the poem also deals in the Germanic tradition of reciprocity between a lord and his retainers and highlights the ideal role a queen should play among her people.
At this point, you may be having a good laugh along with me and asking where exactly Selma, the sensual witch, fits in to all of this. But before we turn again to the movie adaptations, it might be worthwhile to briefly check out some important roles the female characters in the poem do play. I consult Anglo-Saxon scholar Jane Chance’s book Woman as Hero in Old English Literature for a quick brush up on the role of queens and anti-queens in the Beowulf epic. Basically, a queen like Hrothgar’s wife, Wealhtheow, can be considered a peace-pledge between two tribes. Once pledged to her king, she in turn keeps the peace in the hall by preserving the social order among her lord’s retainers. The queen does this by offering a cup of mead from man to man in order of social standing. The Beowulf epic rebounds with several examples of good and bad queen-ship. The problem with Grendel’s mother, again according to Jane Chance, is that she entirely subverts the traditional feminine values espoused for Anglo-Saxon women. For example, she takes on a masculine role and actively seeks to avenge her son’s death. Nor does she promote peace on any other level. But women in Beowulf are not just lessons for female readers to mull over as they tend to their weaving and try to learn about their role as proper Anglo-Saxons.
Instead, the poem actually offers at least one instance where a woman steps forward to represent her people as a whole. When an unidentified woman laments over the funeral pyre of her king, Beowulf (lines 3150-3155 in the poem), she bears witness to the trauma of an entire people ravaged by tribal warfare. Others of undisclosed gender also wail in grief during this scene as the lamenter lays out some of the deepest fears a person of the dark ages might experience. Think invasion by foreigners. Think slavery. The lament itself certainly never appears weak or disgraceful. But unlike the original, the Neil Gaiman offering replaces the scene with a one of a male scop who sings instead of Beowulf’s glory. But maybe I’m being nit-picky? It just seems to me that if the screenwriters are going to take the time to include some sort of oral extravaganza over the funeral pyre, they might as well keep the original. Of course, my eyes could have glassed over and missed that part, which is entirely possible despite Kiernan’s fine writing. (Nope, they didn’t. I double-checked.) Hmmm. Just one of the reasons I think the saying ‘something is rotten in Denmark’ should also refer to some Beowulf Adaptations. But by all means, read on. We still have to get to the apple.

*
There’s something incredibly unsettling to me about the movie Beowulf and Grendel, the character of Selma, and the burgeoning relationship between Selma and Beowulf. The burning question on my mind is simply, “Who the f*ck is Selma?” But I’m no longer asking in an English major this-movie-isn’t-like-the-book sort of way. It’s apparent to me that Selma is important. But something doesn’t sit right. I can’t figure out what’s troubling me. I can’t figure out who she is.

*
Now we can get back to the movies. Obviously, with a slew of male warriors running about slaying monsters and dragons, one has to at least imagine the possibility that media falling under the ever-widening rubric of the Beowulf Adaptation may cough up limited opportunities for the female actors of our day. The current offering, starring Angelina Jolie as Grendel’s dam, may offer just another example of how a major motion picture can present even leading female characters in flashy but ultimately one-dimensional roles. (Huge Major Spoiler Alert.) Basically, Grendel’s ageless, super-sexy mother seduces King Hrothgar and gives birth to Grendel. (This most definitely does not happen in the book.) After Hrothgar breaks a promise he made to the otherworldly merewife, she looses Grendel on his court at Heorot. Beowulf comes with fourteen Geat warriors to save the day. Beowulf kills Grendel and has encounter with merewife Jolie in which, we come to learn, he does not kill her but rather makes a devilish bargain and inseminates merewife with what will become the dragon that eventually is his undoing. Hrothgar abdicates the Danish throne and passes off his wife, Wealhtheow, to Beowulf then promptly falls off a cliff. (I am typing from the fetal position right now. To say this does not happen in the book would be a weak and flaccid understatement.) Oh, and along the way Christianity comes to town and so does Ursula, the ‘young girl’ who brings sex and comfort to Beowulf’s old age.
Oh, I get it! Lust and greed will bring even a good man down, although selfless acts can bring about redemption. But let’s make sure and understand that even as lust is personified by the super seductive Jolie and even as Beowulf succumbs to her rampant sexuality, his desire for her is not necessarily associated with wanton sexual abandon but with capitulation under duress and as paired with Beowulf’s greed to be seen as a great man. Importantly, the sexual woman is standing in for something else entirely here. Playing on what she perceives to be Beowulf’s wish for glory, the merewife gets what she wants by being sexually provocative in a stereotypical mere-bimbo way. She even compliments Beowulf on the size of the magical ‘horn’ he’s carrying. “’It glows so …delightfully” we read towards the bottom of page 193. Oooo-kay. (Those ellipsis are in the original, by the way.) No doubt that line will get some chuckles at the theater. A few pages later, Kiernan tells us (again, based on the screenplay by Neil Gaiman and Roger Avary) “the merewife reaches down and runs her fingers along the golden horn, Hrothgar’s prize, Beowulf’s reward, then she slips her arms around Beowulf’s waist and draws him nearer to her. She kisses his bare chest and the soft flesh of his throat” (197-198). I don’t truck much with Freud (especially since he doesn’t seem to know much about women) but I get that whole phallus idea and I’m absolutely, definitely getting that here.
But it gets so much worse. According to my reading, Beowulf’s encounter with the merewife leaves him somewhat unmanned. Directly after the passage quoted above, we read as the merewife tells Beowulf that as long as she gets to keep the horn, the phallus he brought with him to the cave, he can be King of Denmark. I would like to take this opportunity to point out that saying a woman in charge makes a man less than he is need not be viewed as a compliment to women. And while Neil Gaiman is certainly not the first writer to personify the road towards desire and greed for more than one has in the figure of a woman, I can only hope he is the last. This tale has a long and arduous history and needs to go away. Ahem! Eve. The Book of Genesis. That whole apple thing. Just to drive home the point and seal the metaphorical deal, the end of the long braid worn by Grendel’s dam has a life of its own as a serpent. A serpent, I said. I don’t even read the Bible and I still get the reference.
When I express frustration about my reading material to the roommate who loaned me the novelization in the first place, he tells me that Neil Gaiman deals a lot in archetypes and that may be the reason I think some or all of the characters are a bit…non-dimensional. (In this case, the ellipses are mine.) Well, that’s fine, I say. If archetypes can bring us to a fuller understanding of humanity then by all means. But if the archetypes in use serve instead to limit our view, I daresay they ought to be done away with. And I think it’s fair to expect even an animated film to indulge itself in a little complex characterization.
It might be somewhat interesting to discuss what archetype Neil Gaiman had in mind when he was originally conceiving the movie’s two Beowulf love interests, but judging from the novelization, I think it is called ‘Somewhat Passive.’ Or maybe ‘Mildly Adversarial but Ultimately Ineffective,’ in the case of Wealhtheow. ‘Young and Sweet’ for Ursula. (I’m going to spoil some more of the movie for you now.) Basically, Wealhtheow gets handed off to Beowulf and somewhere along the way turns Christian and (consequently?) frigid. We are aware that she knows at least about Hrothgar’s association with the merewife and probably suspects Beowulf. Beowulf, in his old age, turns to the much-younger Ursula. Somehow King Beowulf has got hold of his horn again, both literally and figuratively. This is where we are when the dragon comes.
And come he does. Fire all over everything. Pathetically, Ursula and Wealhtheow get trapped in a dangerous situation. They run back and forth along a bridge, eventually caught between two burning towers. One by one they become frozen by fright at the horrific sight of the dragon, but egg each other on in displays of sisterly solidarity. However, they do not save themselves. Wiglaf, Beowulf’s male retainer, carries the day in the end. But still I have to ask myself if those displays of solidarity (as well as Wealhtheow’s promise to look after Ursula when Beowulf is gone) save this movie after all, at least in the sense of how female characters are portrayed and the agency given them by their creators.
I have already discussed how twenty-first century writers leave out a powerful female voice from a really old poem. The scenes I described above take place nowhere in the original poem nor in other adaptations I’ve seen. Therefore, I suggest we read them as products not of “historical context” but of the twenty-first century pop culture mind. And I don’t think, after a lot of reading and mulling, that those scenes between Ursula and Wealhtheow need be read only as sisterly solidarity. There is no question from the text that Beowulf considers himself to love both women, and that both women, in their way, love Beowulf. Maybe, instead, we should at least consider the possibility that whatever ‘solidarity’ Ursula and Wealhtheow may espouse also signifies a kind of passive acceptance of the one-man-two-women situation. We might see Jolie’s character as the female inversion of this stereotype, but I don’t think we have to. As far as we know, she only gets her men one at a time.

*
I start to figure Selma out. She’s the outsider. She is the only one with enough perspective to see the larger picture from the get-go. She is defiant in her refusal to validate Beowulf’s participation in a culture of violence. And under her tutelage, Beowulf is like a man waking up. But somehow, to me, the role of edifier seems stereotypically feminine. Just look at Hermione. And most of my teachers have been women, after all. But then I realize something about Selma the umpteenth time I watch the film, looking for that kernel of what draws me back. In the end, Selma rejects the role of teacher. She turns away from Beowulf and forces him to manage moral predicament on his own. That he does so may signify the strength of her example.

*
Although IMDb folks have only thought to give the Graham Baker directed Christopher Lambert Beowulf film three and a half out of ten stars (as opposed to six out of ten for Beowulf and Grendel), I’m willing to give it ten more than I would give to the current Beowulf offering. The film takes place in the futuristic/medieval setting of the Outpost, where Hrothgar, his daughter Krya, and a band of trusty soldiers battle a supernatural monster night by night as their numbers dwindle and outsiders prevent them from leaving. Right away, the film tips the viewer off that we may be dealing with some bad cinema. In one of the first scenes, an escapee from the Outpost runs down a hill in such a state of sexy dishevelment I think I can only call it dishabille. I dare say red stockings and garters and a provocatively torn skirt have less to do with fighting monsters than with how weirdly sexy the whole scenario is, especially when it turns gruesome and we watch as a captor reveals her bare, muscled stomach in order to more accurately cut her in half. The film also succumbs to the mere-bimbo storyline. (Someone please ask Neil Gaiman if ‘mere-bimbo’ is an archetype.) And in a move that screams ‘Holy Opposite of Star Wars, Batman!’ screenwriter Mark Leahy writes Hrothgar as Grendel’s father once again. Grendel’s dam (Layla Roberts) is Playboy bunny sexy. Here though, she’s pissed because the Outpost is built on land that used to belong to her. So at least that’s something. And Hrothgar’s seduction seems purely sexual. She seduces him. They engender Grendel. Kyra’s mother commits suicide. No using the sexual lust of a man for a woman to stand in for something else. But, you might say. Just look at Kyra (Rhona Mitra), you might add. She walks around the whole time in a bustier. And you’d be right. But it’s what she does in her bustier that really counts.
Kyra has all the courage and integrity of a kung fu heroine. She wants to play an active role in the defense of her father’s people. She does not accept Beowulf sight unseen when he shows up at the Outpost but somehow manages to invert the traditional feminine role of hostess in order to give ever-so polite voice to the misgivings of herself and others in her role of ironic interrogator. “I’m not afraid. I can’t afford to be afraid,” she tells Beowulf at one point. She refuses sanctuary to fight and her decision saves her life when passive resistance proves futile. She bears weapons despite her lack of armor. Kind of silly, just standing there with her spear and bustier. But also kind of noble. And then she throws her spear. Kind of fierce. Despite her lack of choices and her constant proximity to death, doesn’t settle for sex or romance with male friend she loves as a brother. Mourns friend when he dies. Never vamps or tramps. We find she’s the victim of domestic abuse who killed her attacker in self-defense. Lives under the personal torment of thinking Grendel represents her dead husband come to extract revenge. Reveals her romantic feelings to Beowulf with honor and openness. When all with Grendel is said and done, accepts Beowulf’s unknowingness about the future. Makes her decisions for herself. Accepts the unknown.
In other words, Kyra’s not just an add-on to an old text for the sake of a love interest. Instead of Neil Gaiman’s cookie-cutter shapes of Wealhtheow, Ursula, and even Grendel’s mother, we are left with a character with personality, motivation and volition of her own. And although the Christopher Lambert Beowulf certainly has its foibles, just the fact that the filmmakers did not—according to IMDb—include a gratuitous scene of sexual contact between Grendel and Kyra because they felt it didn’t add to the movie may be a sign that this film may at least have its heart in the right place. But when I consult Box Office Mojo I can’t find a listing for the film. When I double check on IMDb, I learn that the film actually won three Video Premier Awards for best art direction, cinematography, and visual effects. Does ’video premiere’ mean this strong female lead never even made it to the theater?

*
I find out on Box Office Mojo that Beowulf and Grendel opened in only two theaters and has a total lifetime gross of $92, 076 worldwide. That’s not a lot of money. I fear another portrayal of a strong, complex woman has fallen by the wayside. The thing is, I like Selma. I’ve gotten over my English major angst to see that Sarah Polley plays her as a strong, complex woman who doesn’t know exactly who she’s dealing with in the figure of Beowulf. She makes choices based on who or what she has to protect but never slips from her role as the film’s moral center. Rather than detract from what ‘really’ happens, Selma fleshes this story out.

*
Something tells me that the new Robert Zemeckis Beowulf Adaptation isn’t going to just fall by the wayside. There are posters all over town. I’ve seen the trailer, and I’m pretty sure Angelina Jolie looks pretty darn hot. There’s something (not just literally!) seductive about the power her character seems to hold over the hearts of men. Who hasn’t dreamed at least once of taking on the dominatrix role as the Beowulf-or Hrothgar-like gimp bends to our will? But as a friend in the know once pointed out, in most non-illegal S&M activities the gimp actually has the safe-word and therefore the power to end the entire interaction. I would argue that whatever ‘strength’ anyone might see in the domination Grendel’s dam espouses lies really in the willingness of her victims to capitulate. And isn’t that the nature of Eve, of seduction? Leave it to the little movies with barely a box office to give us the inner strength of a Selma or a Kyra. In the future we might take a long hard look at why a hugely marketed film resorts to unpacking unintelligent silhouettes of women (and men, but that’s another story) while two much smaller movies with little income or distribution manage to serve up human beings. For now, though, I’ll offer up something else for the future. At some point during the last few paragraphs, I became an aunt to a niece. Here’s hoping our attitudes can shift as a culture just a teensy-tiny bit so she can grow up in a world where Angelina Jolie continues to be a badass humanitarian but ‘Eve’ is just the opposite of ‘Day’ and apples are a tasty afternoon snack.

Who-Hoo! Today Is National Beowulf Day! I Am Soooooo Excited!!

I plan to celebrate this step backwards for English literature by going to see the Scottish play.

But by all means, get out your leather underwear and join the 5th century panty party. It takes place in a dank, moist cave and there is a naked lady with Barbie feet.

Maybe if you're lucky, she will let you engender a monster with her, the monster that will be your ultimate undoing.

Do you not understand!???! This is a story about greed and lust for power!!

Good. Now that you know the whole plot, you can come see the Scottish play too.

7:30 at 125 Morrison Hall at Cal. Five bucks. My friend Jack Morgan is MacDuff.

Together we can celebrate MacBeowulf Day. Thank you.

A Little Bit More About Me. Not That You've Asked. How Rude!

I am most like the 'Gerard Butler' version of Beowulf. I may go a little berserk, but then I really think about what I've done.

I still have three, not two. That means I am still available to funnel your requests directly to Satan. Mostly I'll be asking for a new lifestyle. Flashy car. Wads of cash. That sort of thing.

I will be reading aloud (or stuttering aloud) my poetry at Pegasus in downtown Berkeley on Sat. Nov 17, 2007 at 7:30 pm to celebrate the inaugural issue of Sorry 4 Snake. Although I have sent a message to my lupine family living in the forest preserves outside metropolitan Chicago, I do not think they are going to be able to trot out to California in time to see the show. You may be wondering about my human, adoptive family, but I will just tell you this. There are two things I don't talk to my 'mother' about and the second thing is poetry.

It is still all about Disability in the City. However, this serious slice of the pie of life does not stop me from looking fabulous in my stylish thrift shop purchases or from having shallow conversations with my three best girlfriends about my shoe obsession.

I am writing a new opera. It is about the trials and tribulations of living on the Oakland / Emeryville border. For example, am I imagining things, or are there no street lamps on my block? Also I will be singing a moving aria to the stray pit bull that I ran into the other day and am hoping never to see again. At least it was just one dog. Not like the the wild pack of canines that tried to befriend me on my way to work one morning. Thanks passing motorist!

The libretto might go something like this:

Dog: Growl!

Me: Tra-la-la! Are you friendly? Are you vicious? Tra-la-lei!

Dog: Pant! Drool!

Me: IthinkI'llcrossthestreetrightnoooo-oo-oooow!

Of course, I could also write an opera about my slow internet connection in my bedroom that is making me blog in the living room with the smelly cat. (More on that tomorrow.)

But as far as I can tell, there are maybe only one or two things more about me to know and then you will know everything there is possibly ever to know about me. Ever. Of course, I'm lying. I lie all the time. But that still doesn't mean I find the music of Bollywood a nice choice for 9am. Like some unfortunate people I know. Right now. I may have to go and put on some death metal. Okay that will have to do.

Welcome to National Beowulf Month, Week 2. I Hope You Are Enjoying Yourself.

I am not Beowulf!

I just wanted to take this opportunity to say that I have thought of a few more movies that I think are going to turn out to be better than this Beowulf thing-a-ma-jig. Oh, wait. The list is too long to mention here because it includes almost every movie I have ever seen, including Conan the Barbarian. This is partly because Conan does not use shitty animation to tell its spellbinding tale of life in Barbarian times. But maybe the movie will turn out to be great and I will be forced to boil my leather underwear and eat it. Somehow I doubt that though. I do not eat leather, first of all, even if it is boiled. There is no second of all.

But please continue to go about your daily lives, by all means. The movie is still a week away.

In Other News, National Beowulf Month, Week 1, Is Coming To A Close

Who says boxer briefs are a recent invention?

I would just like to take this opportunity to go out on a limb and mention a few films I think will turn out to be better than this Robert Zemeckis offering. Like Citizen Kane, for example. Or maybe also Fred Claus, the heartwarming Christmas story starring Vince Vaughn as Santa's brother. Or the deeply disturbing documentary I watched on the history channel the night before Halloween about how Romanian superstitions about vampires still exist to the point that corpses are stolen from the grave and stakes driven through their hearts. I am pretty sure that my somewhat Americanized great aunts who have occasionally slipped me a twenty at family functions do not engage in anything like this practice, but still!

Seven Samurai is another great movie, as is Virgin Spring of course. I am pretty sure (in other news) that these movies manage to shy away from the kind of overused stereotypes and tired plot contrivances the new Beowulf movie will be dishing out. I've written about them in an article I sent to a magazine and the minute it gets rejected, I will be posting it here. But in a Huge Major Spoiler Alert I will just say that Angelina plays Grendel's dam as a new Eve with Barbie feet and in a stroke of original brilliance, the filmmakers make a really unusual choice to use sexual lust for a woman as a stand-in for greed for power, etc. I wonder where they got that new-fangled idea.

I am also thinking that the new Elizabeth movie with its cheesy love triangle is a better movie, plus all those "girly" movies I have at home that I'm not going to share the titles with you other than to mention that one of them has Drew Barrymore in it. In other news. And that I love it.