All the Things ‘Wonder Woman 1984’ Could’ve Been

Credit: Warner Bros via Batman News

I can’t remember the last time a superhero movie disappointed me as thoroughly as Wonder Woman 1984. Granted, it’s also the first one I watched with any serious expectations since the original Wonder Woman, which remains terrific in ways that feel even more miraculous in light of the sequel’s bloat and superficiality. It would be one thing if this was clearly a lazy cash-grab, but there are ideas here. I mean, Diana Prince battling the hypocrisy and hubris of Reagan-era America? Sign me the heck up!

Except that isn’t what happens. In choosing smarmy, ambitious corporate suit Maxwell Lord as its chief antagonist, Wonder Woman 1984 sets the stage for a simplified yet potent moral reckoning with the corrupt pressures of capitalism and the false promise of the American Dream in much the same way that its predecessor tackled the horrors of war. Where the 2017 film foregrounded Diana’s internal conflict as she tried to reconcile her belief in humanity’s goodness with what she witnessed of its capacity for violence, however, the sequel gives its heroine no room to question the society in which she finds herself.

In fact, not only does Diana not challenge the status quo of the 1980s – which isn’t too far removed from our own – she accepts it. When Lord bellows “Don’t you want the world to be more?”, or whatever it is he says during the exhausting climax, she replies that the world is good as it is, a baffling response from a character who tore a room of British ministers a new one for treating soldiers as cannon fodder. In failing to examine systems of power and privilege, Patty Jenkins’s movie winds up defending the very culture it wants to critique: an oligarchy that sells itself as a meritocracy.

Epitomized by her declaration that “it’s not about [what people] deserve, it’s about what you believe, and I believe in love,” Wonder Woman understood with sharp-eyed clarity that Diana inspires not because she thinks people are inherently good, though she does, for the most part, but because she believes we can be better. She stands for love and hope, yes, but also justice, and WW84 seems to have forgotten that the former are useless without the latter; it’s so intent on projecting optimism it becomes drearily cynical.

Dear Oscars, Movies Aren’t the Problem. You Are.

Movies are dead. The time of death? 8:17 a.m. Pacific Standard Time on Aug. 6, 2018.

That’s when The Hollywood Reporter published news that the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences will make some major tweaks to the Oscars. Approved Tuesday night by the AMPAS board of governors, the changes included shrinking the telecast to three hours by relegating the presentation of some categories to commercial breaks, creating a new category for “outstanding achievement in popular film” (whatever that means), and moving to an earlier air date starting with the 2020 ceremony, which is now scheduled for Feb. 9 compared to the Feb. 24 timing of the upcoming 2019 awards.

Exactly how these changes will play out remains to be seen with details such as which categories will no longer be aired live and what constitutes a “popular film” not yet determined, but even in the abstract, the implications prompted reactions from cinema lovers and makers alike that ranged from tentatively concerned to downright apocalyptic. While issuing a eulogy for an entire medium seems more than a little premature, the Academy’s brazen capitulation to corporate interests is a troubling symptom of a broader, more insidious crisis that has been building up for years, even decades.

Newly reelected AMPAS President John Bailey and CEO Dawn Hudson described the changes to their awards broadcast as “improvements needed to keep the Oscars and our Academy relevant in a changing world,” but these moves feel less like adaptation than surrender. If the Academy Awards provide insight into how the American movie industry sees itself, then this is what happens when the people who make movies – or rather, the people who make it possible for the people who make movies to make movies – don’t understand or like movies.

The truest summation of Hollywood I’ve ever heard (credit: Lionsgate via Ryan Gosling Source)

Goodbye, 2017 Part 2: The Highs and Lows of TV

For all its issues, 2017 turned out to be a pretty interesting year for television. Long-running shows like Brooklyn Nine-Nine and Arrow took risks and found new life, proving that quantity doesn’t always lead to complacency or necessitate a downgrade in quality. At the same time, freshmen series like Legion and Big Little Lies pushed the medium into new territory by exploring provocative material or experimenting with style and form. Even TV’s insistence on following in film’s footsteps by relying more on known properties hasn’t been entirely dispiriting, resulting in Gloria Calderon Kellett and Mike Royce’s One Day at a Time reboot and David Lynch and Mark Frost’s Twin Peaks: The Return (I admittedly haven’t gotten around to watching either show myself, but I hear good things).

Not every leap of faith paid off. I maintain that Jane the Virgin fumbled Michael’s death, though the telenovela has started to bounce back a little in its fourth season. Preacher’s sophomore season fizzled out after the initial promise that came with a relocation to New Orleans, and don’t even get me started on whatever the heck happened with The Flash; Elongated Man was the last straw for me, but at least we got that delightful musical crossover with Supergirl first. Overall, though, TV’s rewards outweighed its disappointments in 2017, so without further ado, let’s reflect on what the small screen has given us this past year, both good and bad:

My Top 5 (in no particular order)

The Leftovers/Halt and Catch Fire. I already sang these shows’ praises when commemorating their final seasons, but I can’t reiterate enough how lucky I feel that series this bold and perceptive existed at all, let alone that they both were allowed to end on their own terms. Halt’s poignant swan song ever-so-slightly edged out The Leftovers’ equally fitting yet messier ending for me, if only because the latter could’ve used a full 10 episodes (the Murphys deserved more closure, and Margaret Qualley never got that Jill showcase). Even that qualm is more of a tribute to the vibrant characters and world that Damon Lindelof and his team developed over a mere 28 episodes than it is a significant criticism. In examining how people connect with and understand each other, Lindelof’s existential meditation and Christopher Cantwell and Christopher C. Rogers’ tech drama represented TV at its most transformative. My life feels emptier for not having them in it.

The Leftovers bids adieu (credit: HBO via screenshot)

Halt and Catch Fire bids adieu (credit: AMC via screenshot)

The First Step to Breaking Up Hollywood’s Boys’ Club? Admit There’s a Problem.

Seemingly every week, some university or organization releases yet another study analyzing the diversity in front of and behind the cameras in Hollywood. At a certain point, these reports can feel redundant. After all, the fact that the film and TV industry are overwhelmingly white and male isn’t exactly new, and while statistics and research are useful in raising awareness, they won’t solve the problem unless people make a concentrated effort to change the status quo.

When asked about their perspective on diversity, studio heads, producers and all the other people in charge of hiring creative personnel often trot out various initiatives and programs, explaining that they’re invested in finding new voices but change is difficult and occurs slowly. You can give them the benefit of the doubt and assume they’re sincere in their desire to include more people from marginalized groups, but the overall lack of improvement across the years suggests that either these programs are ineffective or they’re not trying hard enough.

One problem is that, despite all the evidence illustrating the gaping inequality within Hollywood, many people still won’t acknowledge that this is, in fact, a problem. There are a whole host of arguments justifying the movie and TV industry’s homogeneity: this is a meritocracy and person A got the job or role instead of person B because they were just the best choice/most qualified (never mind that person A just so happens to usually be a white man); diversity has to come organically, not because it’s being forced through quotas; the demand for better representation of women and minorities is just another example of PC culture run amok. And then, there’s what Jurassic World helmer Colin Trevorrow said a few days ago in a discussion on Twitter:

@AutisticWeirdo pic.twitter.com/Nt17F2ohMn

— Colin Trevorrow (@colintrevorrow) August 21, 2015