Treasure: On social niceties and offensive content

**Trigger warning: domestic violence **

I was going to write an ‘I don’t care about your stupid feelings’ rant about something that happened in my life yesterday, but I’ve been getting progressively more riled up about it as this morning has gone on - excellent workout fuel, rage - and so I thought I’d grant myself the luxury of more than 250 words to talk this through. Do not confuse the point, however - I still do not care about your stupid feelings. On that sentiment I am unshakeable.

I’ll open with the takeaway point: jokes about domestic violence are not funny. Stop telling them and having them in your life. And in the world.

Seems obvious, right? Hurting a woman, or a man, or a child in a domestic context in a situation where one person has more power, whether real or perceived, physical or emotional, whatever it might be, is clearly not fodder for a joke.

But wait: the Internet. All the trolls and bottom-dwellers and scum feeders of the Internet are here! See how they make you lose your faith in humanity! Marvel as they undertake an insidious campaign to lower the lowest common denominator! Leaping to misogyny in a single bound!

Yesterday afternoon I was hanging out with some friends drinking a beer and shooting the shit when one of the boys passed around his phone with a Funny Thing on it that someone had found on the internet and texted to him. Commonplace - this is how we interact now. I did it too; later in the night I made my friend watch a funny video someone had sent me. It’s how we do.

This person says to me as he looks over: “I don’t think you’ll like this” and proceeds to pass it around the other men at the table. As it gets some laughs, of course I also want to laugh at the thing. I like to laugh at things. Already I am well aware I am the only woman at the table of 6 of us. I look at it. It is a meme made by the afore-mentioned Internet persons that I won’t replicate, except to note that the punchline is “You hit her.” I groan and laugh half-heartedly (as some of the others at the table have done). This person finds another meme, we follow the same routine except that I decline to look. Because FUCK YOU, GUY. And because I am already uncomfortable enough at 1: having given any reaction that could be interpreted as positive or acquiescent to the first meme, and at 2: knowing the exact nature of what the laughter, even if awkward and forced, is about.

I say "groan and laugh half-heartedly", I say “awkward and forced" because I know two of the other people at the table well enough to know they don’t think it’s ok to hit women. I’d hazard a guess on my reading of the other two and say they probably don’t think so either.

I’m not really here to talk about why domestic violence is bad, although I will note that in Australia, around one woman dies a week as a result of domestic violence. In South Africa, a woman dies every 8 hours by an intimate partner (I’ve referred to a few sites for this information, but feel free to fact check and do further reading). I am going to assume we’re all on the same page in thinking this is bad and sad.

I’m not here to talk about the underlying indication that sharing a joke like that shows a person may think that hitting women is funny or ok.

I’m not even really here to talk about why you should think twice (or a million billion times) before engaging in something so triggering and thoughtless as sharing a joke with an audience who may very well have experienced affects of domestic violence themselves. Statistically, one of us at the table will have had it touch our lives in some way.

I’m here to talk about how we deal with the social situation I’ve outlined above, given the very real and ongoing problem that is domestic violence. I just want to know how it is still ok to pass around a joke with a domestic violence punchline. Why did I give a response that could be read if not as encouraging then still not as disagreement? I’m a fucking feminist for fuck’s sake.

I know within myself that there’s plenty of reasons. I was the only woman at the table. There was an air of comfortable shit-talking and lols that did not lend itself to me “making a fuss”. I like the company of people who identify as men; I have brothers, and I love to talk nonsense and make jokes and generally do the thing where I get to feel safe, respected and comfortable in a group of people. I didn’t want to make a point about anything. I wasn’t geared up for it. I wasn’t even prepared for it. I thought I was among like-minded friends.

I didn’t know what would happen if I did say a Feminist Thing, because the person sharing the joke was not a person I knew. This person did, however, know he was behaving inappropriately on some level: he told me I wouldn’t like it. If I’d said something, would I have had it pointed out to me that he’d warned me I’d be offended (not in so many words), making him blameless in my offense? I do not know. I feel like there’s a clue there though: if you know it’s going to offend someone at the table, maybe keep it to your-fucking-self.

I'm not giving this actual specific person much more thought beyond using the example. I'm not pointing fingers. This is not the intention of this post. When I'm strong and prepared, I see everyday misogyny basically as opportunities for rants, gentle social ostracism and learning curves. Make no mistake though, it is misogyny at it's most pervasive.

There are so many reasons not to let this kind of behaviour continue in your social circle. There are so many reasons for any one of us to speak up. It’s breaking that complicit cycle. It’s staring down the face of social awkwardness and saying “that’s not funny”. I know how hard it is to do. I’ve just admitted I wasn’t tough enough to do it. But I quietly live for those days where one of my friends doesn’t laugh awkwardly and instead says “nah, we don’t want to see that sort of thing mate, not interested. Not funny”. There are even non-verbal ways you can start off, discouraging by disengaging, or shit, even by making the person sharing the joke feel awkward. I don’t mind a bit of eye contact with someone in the circle who you know is an ally, followed by a raised eyebrow or an eye-roll if you’re feeling sassy. It’s not quite a call-out yet (and that’s the ultimate), but maybe it re-routes a conversation, which is a nice start. We can be gentle in our disagreement if that’s the approach we choose. That’s ok. We can also yell and rage and write all the blog posts. That’s ok too. Change the fuck out of that social fabric.

I quietly live for the day where it doesn’t matter whether or not there are “ladies" present (by this I mean the good old “what they don’t hear can’t hurt them” approach); misogyny still gets called out and rejected. That’s powerful to me, and it says to me that the person speaking up is an ally. Let’s all be allies for each other! Let’s call out a bit of racist, homophobic and ableist behaviour while we’re at it! Let’s take over the fucking world by being People Who Are Not Arseholes.

Sometimes this happens in my actual life and I am proud and powerful because of it. It feels really good to stand up for something. Sometimes the good feeling comes after the awkwardness passes, but let it come. Take a second. Quietly congratulate yourself (if you’re waiting for someone else to, check your motives), think “that wasn’t so hard” and then do it again, forever and ever.

And I will try and do the same.

film review: mission impossible: rogue nation

firstly, sign me up for the Mission Impossible cardio workout. a fuckload of running, core strength built up by sudden changes in direction on the cobblestoned streets of overseas locations, bit of squats and knife play... sure, there's someone shooting at you the whole damn time, but that's just to motivate.

abs of steel in 6 to 8 weeks, I hear.

the latest offering from this bajillion-dollar franchise wasn't shy in coming forward with the inevitable opening action sequence (Tom Cruise on the outside of a plane while it's in the air, yo). I like a bit of ridiculous theatrical tension (is the door going to open in time? well is it?) safe in the knowledge that they cannot possibly kill off Ethan Hunt (Cruise's character, for the players at home who have been living under a rock) in the first 10 minutes. just once I'd like to see one of the big names killed off right at the start, in the style of Scream's treatment of Drew Barrymore. I'm not saying we have to kill Ethan Hunt, but we could at least think about it. Way less Tom Cruise that way.

this is the 5th Mission Impossible movie. I missed Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol but I can only assume that the IMF got some ghosts on board to help them solve crimes or whatever because ghosts have mad spy skills. I have actually seen the other 3 because of my weakness for watching things exploding (may have mentioned this in my review of Mad Men - soothes my hungover soul). say what you like about Tom Cruise, he seems to be good at action movies. still, do say what you like about him, for it is fun to be mean about a very rich white male scientologist who is short. this is his main weak point as a person, as far as I can tell. not all the weird scientology shit where he keeps his wives captive and believes things that are actually insane. gloss on by that, let's chat measurements.

Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation is not just about breaking into stuff to steal things or double triple double agents with a side of silk dresses which need to be cut high into the crotch for practical reasons, and it's not just about physical fitness or how long you can hold your breath. It's about the politics of the international spy world (which, as far as I can tell, needs some serious mediation prefaced with some solid icebreaker work). It's about the advancement of technology where you can wear a wetsuit with a thing on it saying how much oxygen you have left in your lungs. I don't think this is a spoiler because I'm not going to tell you how much oxygen or how much time people held their breath for.

As usual I did my woman count. I say woman because there was one woman in the whole fucking movie.

Whatever, Helen. Women aren't very good spies. What about when they have a baby or get their period or something? Nobody wants to deal with that shit. Women are out of control; why, even that one woman they let be in the movie was a rogue one. I still don't know if she was a goodie or a baddie, and we need to know that stuff. Note: female spies get sweet gadgets like a lipstick that is also a USB. So it's pretty fair all round really.

Begrudging points for the kick-arse motorbike stuff that female lead Rebecca Ferguson as fairly quiet but deadly efficient Ilsa Faust pulled off, literally leaving Ethan Hunt in Moroccan dust; for the knife fight where she was paired evenly with a male agent (I keep forgetting they're called agents now - spy is such an outdated term) and more than held her own; and a small happy cheer for the lack of romantic crap driving the plot. But seriously: one actual woman? yikes.

Special mention goes to use of a variety of locations (Morocco! Underwater! London! London again!) as well as a few well-placed jokes and some very convincingly placed BMWs. SO many BMWs. A black one. A white one. A van. Some motorbikes. They were almost like the 6th or 7th character of the story. Probably male ones but.

I'd like to put forward a brief note on Tom Cruise's face, which is that it makes me really very mad when I look at it. A blessing, really, that action movies don't require a lot of close-ups. I'm not violent, generally, but it's a face I'd feel ok about hitting.

With that in mind this movie gets 2.5 stars. Right in the middle. See it if you like, but you could also wait and watch it in about a year and spend the whole time not sure if you've seen it already. I know that's what I'm going to do.

film review: Magic Mike XXL

I'll tell you what's awkward: when you get to a point in your life where you get cocky (yes, pun intended, you're welcome) that you know what sort of movie the sequel to Magic Mike, that documentary about the profession of male stripping from 2012, will be... and you're wrong in almost every way.

I'll tell you what else is awkward: when you walk out of Magic Mike XXL and the first thing you say is "there really could have been more stripping". This was the mission of this creative masterpiece of a sequel: as many abs as possible. Some more of Ginuwine's Pony. Channing Motherfucking Tatum, for days.

Everyone, I'm just going to say it. Don't see this movie, there is not enough male nudity.

It also sucks in a wide collection of other ways. There are far too many minutes in this movie (115, to be exact) with no music, for a start. I want the up and coming club hits playing pretty much the whole time. I want there to be some puns. I want the characters to either have no back story or an over-used character trope. I don't want some half-assed shit about a guy's dream to run a truck that dispenses probiotic frozen yoghurt. I kid you not. An actual thing from this movie.

There are also far too many minutes in this movie where everyone is like, sitting around. I thought it was going to have aspects of the comedy and self-deprecation when the core cast all went nuts on MDMA early in the piece and did silly things, but then there's dead air for an hour. With the metaphorical crickets chirping and tumbleweed blowing down the main street.

What I want to know is, how the ACTUAL FUCK did Donald Glover (Childish Gambino, Community) get himself involved in this absolute train wreck (side note: previewed the trailer for upcoming Judd Apatow movie "Trainwreck" starring Amy Schumer; looks fantastic) of a movie? He is a successful artist. He wears hats so well. He has such a nice face. Why Donald? Why?

All the men are very muscular and tanned in that charming way that has more than a hint of the orange skin tone about it. They've all got a little older, but they're still keeping it tight. There are all these carefully sculpted muscle groups that aren't doing what they do best: being bared to the world.

Let me be very clear: I understand this level of fitness and muscle definition is not realistic for us people of the real world. I understand that objectification of anyone is ultimately destructive when it puts the kind of pressure on us all to strive for something we'll never be. But if I'm paying for entertainment and I've expected something, it's just so hard to recalibrate my expectations. That's really what's upsetting here. I'm not sure if it's the patriarchy's fault, but that's who I'm going to blame.

That and the incredibly poor writing that didn't even bother to leave holes in the plot, it just skipped out on plot all together. Now we're at the beach. Now we're in the forest. Now we're in the South. Now we're

Oh wait I don't care anymore.

Loyally I will note and applaud the high quality of Channing Tatum's dancing. I like Channing, I really do. He tends to say a good collection of feminist things in a fairly inoffensive way (rather than the "look at me, I thought a feminist thing, where's my gold star and my free pass to be a sexist asshole?") in the public space. I like how his character, the eponymous Mike, incorporated his work with his male entertainer past in this excellent trailer from the movie:



Actually, listen: if you just watched the above you have now seen all the best parts. Don't fall into the trap of wanting more: there is no more that is any good.

Just so bad, you guys. Take away feels from this movie: why won't you stop talking and dance?! Also, all the dollar bills on the stage bothered me - it didn't feel safe. Someone could have slipped on there.

It gets no stars. I even feel bad for making you read my review, but if I managed to stop just one person who is expecting lols and eye candy underscored by some sick tunes paying to see this shit, my work here is done.

You're welcome.

Arnold Schwarzenegger is the king of the world and the boss of everything: a think piece on Terminator: Genisys.

Dear everybody, everywhere: Arnie, amiright?

I went to see the latest instalment in the Terminator franchise last Thursday with a small gang of people. It was opening night: we got there early. We won: we got the best seats in the house (if you promise not to take them from me, I will tell you which ones they are: the ones just up from the aisle. You can put your feet up and nobody’s head is in front of your face). We probably could’ve cruised in there a little later in the night, like 5 to 20 mins, but I have no regrets. 

So the thing about the Terminator movies is this: lower your expectations. Good and low? Just lower them a little more. Allow a moment of thought about the sheer amount of pressure riding on the poor poor cast, writers, director, producers. The huge amount of money the film needs to make. The fucking creative pressure of the daily grind, man. 

Lower the expectations just a little bit more. 

And here we go: into the past but also firstly into the future, but then also the past is different because of a Terminator from the future but not as far into the future as the current future we’re in. Or maybe - not sure. But the important thing is that we’re in the past for long enough to revisit the first movie, take your name down flip it and reverse it, and then off we go into another future that’s again, not as far into the future as we were before, at the start of the movie. And a belated spoiler alert to you, my friends.

The year was something. 2017 I think. Gotta fix the thing before it happens, but also don’t forget the system is there to wreck your plans before you wreck its plans because TECHNOLOGY AND CAPITALISM. 

I’m really confused with how clever I’ve tried to be about this, so I might quit while I’m behind but also slightly ahead.

I actually loved the last Terminator movie, "Terminator: Salvation" which was possibly more about Sam Worthington than is strictly allowed. Actually I can justify it by stating I’m supporting local produce - I mean artists - and we’re good here. Solved. I’m not sure if it will stand up to a rewatching, but now I’ve thought about it, I probably will re-watch. For science.

I’m always going to enjoy popular cultural explorations of dystopia, however stilted the acting is (although now I wonder if I maybe missed the point of them being stilted as something about being influenced by the machine-driven world in which they have to survive… do we buy that? Let’s, for now) and however many mans they manage to list in the opening credits before Emilia “Khaleesi” Clarke gets her mention. So, #justfeministthings: I think because of Mad Max (you can read my very very fond review of that masterpiece here), all the action blockbuster type movies are being held up to a feminist/quasi-feminist looking glass at the moment. Which I think, overall, is fucking fantastic. We need the general public to start being a little more “hey what’s up with there being almost only men in this movie?”. I support this sentiment, clearly. 

Unfortunately for Clarke (and I’m just going to say it because I SAY WHAT I WANT), the woman of the movie, the giver of all life and whatever, she just did not deliver great acting. It was like Khaleesi stumbled through some hair dye (or took off her wig, because that bleach-blonde hair is not a real thing) and into an 80s city with the keys to a mail truck and a big old pile of guns. And zero dragons. Maybe I wanted too much from her; maybe I didn’t lower my expectations of her enough. Her resemblance to Linda Hamilton who played Sarah Connor in the first Terminator movie is pretty excellent, but I just didn’t quite believe it. Also, it still ended up being a bit about her boobs.

Don’t get me wrong even for an instant: great boobs. Don’t anyone dare tell me she doesn’t do her own boob work, my feelings will be irrevocably hurt. At least tell me she provides her own silhouette boob (you’ll know it when you see it).

I like the idea of Sarah Connor being a central figure, but it doesn’t come off as genuine. Partly the boob thing, partly the lack of dimensions (haha not boob dimensions you all, the other kind - character dimensions) - we didn’t get much insight into her motivations, we didn’t get to see her as much of a human - I didn’t see half as many flaws and internal conflicts as I would have liked to, given the premise of her role in the whole saga.

Anyhow. Let’s move on and talk about Arnie. It makes me happy. It’s really all I have to say. The guy has almost no range and still manages to steal the show (and govern a fucking state, right?) while oftentimes having bits of his face missing or being digitally altered or being naked.

I just want to observe that the guy did not skip leg day. Like, ever.

I like how he brings this little tweak of humour to his role - it’s like he knows how silly he is but he’s also like “come on guys, sometimes just being a politician is so hard… I need this”. Also, what would the franchise even be without the guy? You know I’m right. Also have to concede in light of overwhelming evidence that I am a sucker for an accent - even a German one, even after everything (not a reference to the war, btw).

Overall (see how keenly I have avoided spoilers, by failing to discuss most of the plot and other characters) I think you should all see it, but don’t care too much. I mean, care if you must, but care sparingly. Find joy in the self-referential. The explosions, of which there are many. Enjoy that thing with the plot twist. And I don’t think I’ll ruin it too much by mentioning this excellent joke, which I have to thank Phill for reminding me of:

“What do we want? Time Travel. When do we want it? It’s irrelevant!”

2 stars: one for Arnie and one for making me paranoid about Apple, which is a story for another time (I’m writing this on a MacBook).