Unexpected Happy Endings: My New Favorite Kind

Alright, I know I was a bit hard on Frozen in my last post, but really, generally speaking, I quite like Disney's animated movies. There are some that I love, and some that I enjoy, and some that I grew up with, and some I need to watch again, and some that I still need to watch for the first time. Most of them are beautifully animated and well-acted. They have great characters and great music. And they're safe. If you're having a bad day, it's probably a good idea to watch a Disney movie, because even if you've never seen it before, you know going in that everything's going to turn out fine in the end.


I think it's sometimes easy to forget how many luxuries come with being little. People feed you, your summers are always full of fun activities, you're provided ample opportunities for making friends and having life experiences, no one expects you to have your life planned out beyond the next week, and the stories always end exactly as they should. Once you hit your teenage years, a lot of that goes away - especially the stories. You hit the grown-up section of the library, and suddenly characters are dying, dreams are going unfulfilled, the bad guys don't always lose, and the prince doesn't always end up with the girl he should've. Eventually, you learn to stop counting on a happy ending.


The single upside of this newfound cynicism is that it makes the happy endings feel even better when they do show up.


In the past week or so, I've encountered no less than three unexpected happy endings. The first was, oddly enough, found in a horror movie (which I was watching for - reasons). Up until the last five minutes or so of the movie, everything was dark lighting and cruel intent and gruesome imagery and heartbreak and abuse and insanity. And then, suddenly, we were in Italy. And it was sunny. And everybody was wearing white. And dancing. It was awesome.


Then, on Thursday night, I got to see the musical Wicked live for the first time (I'd heard the soundtrack, but never seen it). That was fun for a lot of reasons. We had great seats, the singers were all wonderful, it was nice to finally hear the dialogue between the songs and thus have the gaps in plot left by the soundtrack filled in, the costumes and set pieces were fantastic, etc. 'Course, Wicked is kind of a dark musical, dealing with the consequences of prejudice and propaganda and, weirdly enough, political corruption; and it's the story of the Wicked Witch of the West, whose story arc in the original Wizard of Oz doesn't end well for her. So I went in expecting a great journey more than a heartwarming conclusion. And yet - spoilers, I guess - while it's a far cry from dancing in white in sunny Italy, the ending to Wicked is actually pretty hopeful and even fairytale-like.


Then, today, I finished a book that conveyed the impression that its author's intended purpose in writing it was to caution people to think long and hard before making rash decisions, because the whole book is about people making rash decisions and thereby bringing ruin, grief, and worry down upon themselves and the people around them. Throughout the whole book, there was one ending I was hoping for, one absurdly, even incongruously happy ending that seemed less and less likely to come about the further I got into the book. And then, fifteen pages from the end - there it was. Some characters had unhappy conclusions to their stories. It wasn't universal joy. But the best characters, and the book itself, ended up right where I wanted them to. I'd become so convinced that the book was going to end unsatisfactorily that to have it end in precisely the way I'd been hoping for felt surreal.


And it's an amazing feeling.


That second in the movie that the fireshot night scene jump cuts to a perfect spring day - the moment at the end of Wicked when you realize just how much brighter everything is than you thought it was the moment before - the sentence in the book that tells you your often-rough road through the story has all been worth it - they're moments to be remembered. One feels like laughing from sheer, stunned delight. Because a happy ending you expect is merely satisfying; it's what you came for, and you never had to reason to doubt its coming. A happy ending you didn't expect, that you weren't sure you were going to get, that you positively despaired of during the lowest points of the story, is not only satisfying, but surprising. It doesn't just safely and comfortably bring the characters around to their natural conclusion - it seems to change their fate, and in the process, brings you up from a place of concern and sadness into one of joyous optimism.


For me, these unexpected happy endings mesh with the very reason I watch movies and musicals and read books in the first place: they take stories plagued by the sorts of depressing calamities people encounter in their day-to-day lives, and by calamities far worse and more seemingly insurmountable than anything we inhabitants of the real world are ever likely to encounter, and dare to suggest that those stories can have happy endings.


I think that's why they're my new favorite kind of ending.


~Pearl Clayton    

I Demand More Silly Movies

A little over two months ago (on April 11th) I went out and saw the new Cinderella movie, the one directed by Kenneth Branagh and starring an assortment of famous veteran British actors and up-and-coming stars of popular British TV shows. I've been meaning to write about it ever since.


Why?


Because it is so incredibly silly.


Everything about it is just ridiculous. There's a narrator who keeps coming back to unnecessarily narrate things every few minutes. The costumes are all elaborate and colorful and look like they're probably impossible to maneuver in. Cinderella is perfect and photogenic and delicate and feminine, without a dark side or a sarcastic streak or anything. When she's in distress, she exclaims, "oh my goodness!" The prince has a happy place, complete with tree swing. There's random slow motion sequences and singing and everybody's blond and the prince is adorable and he's a grown man who goes by the name Kit. And (and I hope I'm not spoiling it by saying this) the prince comes and gets the girl at the end and carries her away and she gets to live happily ever after, because she always remembered to have courage and be kind (incidentally, the phrase "have courage and be kind" is in the movie about eight hundred times; I think the writers are trying to tell us something).


It is the silliest movie I've seen in a long time.


I loved every minute of it. It is now my second favorite film adaptation of Cinderella, after the Drew Barrymore movie Ever After (random aside: if you've never seen Ever After, go watch it right now. Leonardo da Vinci is the fairy godmother. It's pretty amazing).


I'm not sure I can explain why. But really, why should I have to? I think that deep down, most people enjoy a silly movie every now and then. They're certainly preferable to movies that are trying hard to convince you they're not silly.


Take another of Disney's recent films: Frozen. Poor, poor Frozen. Frozen might very well be the most embarrassed movie I have ever seen. Watching Frozen feels like trying to have a conversation with a friend who keeps unnecessarily apologizing for things. I desperately want to provide comfort, and the poor dear just won't listen.


Frozen: Oh... oh my goodness... oh dear.... oh, look what I've done. Oh.... oh... look at all these movies about love at first sight!


Me: Hey, don't worry about it. We like those movies.


Frozen: No, no you don't, you're just saying that. Oh my word, I am SO EMBARRASSED. Um... um... here, I know! How about the guy she falls in love with at first sight is actually evil! That'll make it better! Can you forgive me now?


Me: You don't have to do that. I wasn't mad.


Frozen: No, you were, you WERE, I know you were. And oh... oh no, for seventy-five years we've been saying that romantic love is more important than familial love! Oh, I am SO SORRY.


Me: Stop apologizing. Really. It's okay.


Frozen: No, no, it's not okay! It's so not okay! And... and... I'm so embarrassed... the prince always saves the princess in the end!


Me: I promise I don't mind.


Frozen: YOU DO, YOU DO, YOU DO MIND. I HAVE TO FIX THIS.


Me: You really don't.


Frozen: I do though. SEE, LOOK KIDS, TRUE LOVE CAN HAPPEN BETWEEN SISTERS.


Me: Frozen, please calm down.


Frozen: NO I CAN'T I'VE RUINED EVERYTHING.


Me: I mean it. I swear I'm not mad about this. Just take a deep breath and come down from the table...


Frozen: Not until I'm done fixing everything!


Me: Oh my word, Frozen, RELAX. You are going to hurt yourself.


Frozen: LOOK LOOK LOOK THE GIRL SAVED HER SISTER ALL BY HERSELF. GIRL POWER! (Insane laughter which quickly devolves into hysterical sobbing)


Me: (Soothingly, while gently stroking Frozen's hair) Yeah. Okay. Yeah. You fixed it. We're okay now. Hush...


Frozen: (Strangled sob) Look at the cute snowman...


Me: Yep. I see him. Hush now. Shhhhhhh...


Compare this to Cinderella, which pretty much just says, "Yeah. I'm silly. What are you gonna do about it?"


So here's my question: why do things like movies and books exist in the first place?


Well, there are a lot of reasons. Some are made to call attention to problems or teach morals. Some exist to shock and disturb, or to reveal their creators' personalities. Some preach. Some exist to tell true stories and thus immortalize heroes. Frozen seemingly exists to atone for mistakes that Disney is convinced it's made.


But not all movies are like that, nor should they be. We experience enough moralizing and shocks, preaching and tale-telling and unnecessary apologies in our everyday lives to tolerate an endless barrage of them from our imaginary ones as well.


That's why we have fairy tales.


That's why we have movies like Cinderella, in which good triumphs over cruelty and patience and kindness alone are enough to bring about great reward. Maybe it's not terribly realistic. I don't care.


It's why we have movies like Ever After, which is massively historically inaccurate, but again, I don't care, because Leonardo da Vinci is the fairy godmother.


It's why we have books like The Three Musketeers (and movies like its film adaptations), which is about immoral people dashing about being drunk and swashbuckling and enabling other people's immoral behavior. There's no moral and no lessons to learn and again, I don't care.


And the thing is... I think stories like these are going out style.


Maybe I'm wrong. But I feel like more and more of the books and movies being made, and rewarded, and critically acclaimed are the preachy kind, or the "based on a true story" kind, or, worst of all, the overly apologetic kind. Heck, the kinds of stories I'm describing have been called "guilty pleasures" for years, like we should feel bad for enjoying them. There's a new trend of superhero movies stuffed with angst and thought-provoking dialogue and death, practically screaming, "Yes, I know none of this is realistic and that guy's wearing a cape, but I swear I am NOT SILLY". I've written recently about Georgette Heyer, who is well on her way to becoming my new favorite author. She wrote historical romance novels, and reportedly (according to Wikipedia, that is) wrote to a friend in 1944, "I think myself I ought to be shot for writing such nonsense... but it's unquestionably good escapist literature and I think I should rather like it if I were sitting in an air-raid shelter or recovering from flu".


Silly stories are looked down on, even by their own creators. But I think that quote also makes a good point. If I'm sick, or sad, or hurt, or lonely, I'm not going to watch Schindler's List or The Hunger Games or The Dark Knight. I'm going to watch Ever After. And I'm not going to read some Pulitzer-prize-winning book about pain and unfairness and the human condition. I'm going to read Georgette Heyer.


Sure... we need honesty in storytelling from time to time. But I believe we need silliness just as badly. And I think people need to stop apologizing for that. Embrace the ridiculousness. A little wishful thinking and imagination never hurt anyone.


So c'mon, Hollywood. Make me some more silly movies.


~Pearl Clayton     

Le Bon Temps Viendra

This post is kind of sort of a continuation of the one from a week ago. Ish. Mostly it's just random thoughts.


Off we go then.


Currently, I am reading (in fact, am very nearly finished with) a book called The Conqueror. It's by Georgette Heyer, who wrote These Old Shades, which I read (and loved) back in April. I'm not loving The Conqueror quite as much, but that's not actually relevant to this post.


The Conqueror is, as you might imagine, a book about William the Conqueror. However, the main character is really a young knight named Raoul de Harcourt. At the beginning of the book, Raoul is given his first sword. The sword is inscribed with Danish runes. Being the only member of his family interested in learning, Raoul is the only one who can read the runes. When asked what they mean, Raoul replies, "In our tongue, it reads thus: Le bon temps viendra."


Georgette Heyer evidently had a strange habit of including random French phrases in her works without bothering to provide translations. She did it a lot in These Old Shades (which also took place in France) as well. So in order to figure out what was written on Raoul's sword, I had to do a little web browsing.


The first thing I learned is that the House of Harcourt is a real Norman noble house. There are still Harcourts living in France and England today. And one of their house mottoes is Le bon temps viendra.


The second thing I learned is that "le bon temps viendra" means "the good times will come".


Go ahead and let that sink in.


The good times will come.


One thing's for sure; that's quite a house motto.


It'd make for quite a life motto, too.


Okay, sure, on the one hand it strikes one as vapidly optimistic. Everywhere, every day, we see people, making headlines and posting frustrated Facebook updates or just going through life, who are struggling. Sometimes we're the ones struggling.


Hold on a second - I just remembered that I hate first person plural pronoun usage.


Sometimes I'm the one struggling.


And I know that on some bad days, I don't necessarily want to hear someone tell me that the good times will come. For whatever reason, being caught in the throes of misery or irritation or stress can make me shut down and reject the kind intentions of others and believe that no, the good times will not come, you don't know anything. That's why, when I see someone else hurting, although my first instinct is usually to reach out and say, "Don't worry; the good times will come"... I don't always.


But the thing is... I think they will.


I might be starting to actually believe that. I'm not sure I can say why. I'm still just a directionless high school graduate who doesn't want to grow up because she's absolutely terrified of adulthood and passionately loathes change.


But the good times will come.


The world is still a fallen one, in which people let you down, and get older, and move away, and die, and are forgotten.


But the good times will come.


Everyone in the world has rough days and grief and uphill battles in their futures.


But that doesn't, and cannot, and never will change the fact that le bon temps viendra.   


I can't explain it, this weird certainty. Maybe it's just springing from excitement that I learned a neat French phrase. Maybe it'll be gone tomorrow. Maybe I should quit filling my head with such bookish nonsense.


I don't care.


For today, at the very least, I'm taking a cue from Raoul de Harcourt and making le bon temps viendra my motto.


The good times will come.


~Pearl Clayton 

Summer Plans

Don't you just love me?


I post a whole, long, happy, sunny post about how I've been off, but I'm getting better and finding great books and probably I'll be writing again soon!


And then two more months go by.


Whoops.


So, yeah. Still kinda lacking in the motivation department, and now it's not just my writing. I'm also reading slowly and sporadically. And now I don't even know what my problem is, because I've been reading great books, and I've got more great books to read, and I've been watching great movies, and I've actually spent a fair bit of the last few weeks in a pretty great mood. I should be bursting with things to say.


So I've decided that I'm going to be.


It's June. Summer vacation. I graduated from high school (or at least, I had a graduation party) (there's another thing I could've written about earlier and didn't). I have zero plans for this fall. I am free and frightened and crazy and excited and the world might just possibly be at my fingertips. So I think it's about time I stopped waiting around for motivation. I'm writing this summer, and I'm reading this summer, whether my lame uncooperative unmotivated brain likes it or not.


Right now, I have two major summer goals: first, I want to write, or at least get started on, a new book. The idea I'll be writing from is one I've had and loved for years. It's fun and fluffy and rompy, and I've learned from experience that I do my best work on those kinds of stories. It'll probably end up being harder to write that I'm anticipating (because it always is), but I have decided I'm going to do it.


Second, I'll once again be reading some popular book series or other and posting my daily impressions on this blog. Currently the plan is to do this over the first few weeks of July. The big hang-up here is that I don't actually know for sure what books I'm doing yet. For a while, I'd resolved to read the complete works of John Green, but now I'm not so sure, since I've heard they're a bit depressing and formulaic and overrated. But they're still on the table. I've also been considering maybe changing my approach up a bit, and reading classics instead of contemporary phenomena; if I did this, I would either read some iconic Science Fiction (because I realize that I have read very little science fiction in my life) or select some books that I think of as staples of public school curriculum that I never ended up reading (e.g. The Catcher in the Rye, Hemingway, Steinbeck, etc.). If anyone has any other suggestions, I am naturally open to them. And if anyone would like to weigh in with what they think I should do, that would be great too.


Two goals. Two goals, and a few hopes that I'll keep to myself for now, and one hope that I'm perfectly willing to share.


I hope that this is an absolutely amazing summer.


That's all for now... but you should be hearing from me again soon.


~Pearl Clayton