ScreenFish

where faith and film are intertwined

Heather Johnson

The Broken Hearts Gallery: Sifting through the Stuff

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Stuff is a funny thing.

I imagine the majority of us can sit down on any given day, look around and ask, “how did I get all this stuff?” I mean, at least that happens to me actually multiple times a day. I have antique heirlooms, random pieces of clay “art” that I have accumulated from each child during their pre-school and kindergarten years, more books than I will ever actually read, and notebooks…oh, how many notebooks I have.

But when I look at these items, whether in passing or in moments of contemplation, those items take me somewhere. They take me to my grandmother’s house and I remember exactly where it sat on the day we came back from her funeral 17 years ago this past August. They take me to the tiny, chubby hands presenting me with a painted “bowl” or “jewelry holder,” with the biggest grins of pride and accomplishment and tears begin to form. They transport me to my rough teenage and college years, or the early months of marriage, when I was figuring out just who I was and wanted to be. It’s stuff, yes, but that stuff comes with a message – of the past, of the present, of love, of heartbreak.

As such, I immediately connected with The Broken Hearts Gallery from Writer/Director Natalie Krinsky with Selena Gomez as an Executive Producer. Art curator Lucy (played by my new favorite comedic actress, Geraldine Viswanathan) collects mementos from all of her past relationships. Whether they are shoe strings, earbud cases, or ties, Natalie has these items meticulously placed throughout her room, much to the chagrin of best friends and roommates Amanda (Molly Gordon) and Nadine (Phillipa Soo, yes, of Hamilton). Despite their attempts to coax her out of her hoarder habit, Lucy is adamant that these items don’t just remind her of past loves, they hold memory of the good moments as well. On the heels of her most recent break-up mixed with a case of mistaken identity, Lucy stumbles into the path of Nick (Dacre Montgomery, aka “Billy” from Stranger Things). Their conversation on break-ups and stuff leads to Lucy’s inspiration for the Broken Hearts Gallery, which quickly becomes a social media sensation as people bring their mementos into Lucy’s care and later, on display.

I basically loved every minute of this movie. The script was delightfully witty and insightful, the chemistry between all the actors was electric. Viswanathan’s delivery and embodiment of Lucy had me wishing she was my new best friend, and Montgomery’s subtle charm had me smitten. 

Lucy’s heartfelt journey from collecting to freedom was authentic and moving, especially when she described heartbreak as “the great equalizer.” Pain and loss are universal. And while we all cope in unique ways, often we hold onto the physical mementos in an effort to hold onto the good memories before they fade away. 

But, even in our brokenness, we stitch pieces of ourselves back together. Sometimes it is through cleaning out the stuff. Sometimes it’s having a hard conversation with someone from our past. Sometimes it is opening ourselves up to a new kind of love, whether it be with another person or a new understanding and appreciation for our own self. No matter the how, The Broken Hearts Gallery does a phenomenal job of illustrating the why. And this is why it has earned a spot in my “must watch” collection. 

The Broken Hearts Gallery is available in theatres and on demand now.

One Man and His Shoes: The Air Jordan Revelation

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Comprised of interviews with former Nike executives, Michael Jordan hobbyists and collectors, basketball historians, and even cultural activists, One Man and His Shoes chronicles how a relatively unknown basketball player not only revolutionized the game itself, but both the marketing industry and the culture as we know it today.

Now, I admit that I’m not a basketball fan. I’m not really into sports in general. But even a less-than-enthused sports fan who grew up in the 80s and 90s knows the name Michael Jordan. Kids in my school wore the jerseys, the colors, and spent the hallway time in between classes talking about the Chicago Bulls and whatever crazy dunk Jordan had recently demonstrated. Fast forward 25 years, and while I am still not crazy about basketball, I have spent the past 10 years in marketing, which is what drew me into this documentary of the Air Jordan launch and subsequent phenomenon. Little did I know that it would all hit much deeper.

There’s so much to take away from this film that it’s difficult to pinpoint where to start. When Nike first landed Michael Jordan as an endorsement deal in 1984, the athletic marketing status quo for basketball equipment was team-oriented. The shoes were worn by the team, so when something was advertised, it showed multiple teammates. Jordan, a third round pick from UNC by the Chicago Bulls, wasn’t even interested in Nike. But they pitched something special.

This deal would be his deal.

He would be the sole star (see what I did there). The shoe would boast his name in tandem with Nike. No one predicted the trajectory and speed with which these would take off. When the NBA banned Jordan’s shoe from the court because it didn’t conform to the dress code, they propelled Nike and Air Jordan into legendary status within months of entering the market without even trying. The demand for the Air Jordan became relentless as stores sold out faster than they could restock, and Jordan’s personal brand began to shape how athletic endorsements would look in the coming decades. 

It was marketing genius, even if accidental in some ways. By creating a demand that couldn’t be met, Nike had crafted a strategy that kept people wanting more. And they did so in a way that attracted a market that had previously been overlooked – the Black teenager. And this is where the film goes beyond shoes.

Honestly, the archival footage of the 80s didn’t look much different than the most recent videos on social media today. Black neighborhoods struggling in the shadows of their white neighbors, the fear that the hard-earned gains for Civil Rights were slipping away, and the incessant, pleading cry for visibility and equality. So, when an underserved community sees their own face on a cereal box or sporting a specific pair of shoes, that community looks up and says “Hey, that’s me. I see me.” Suddenly, there is a relationship now between that individual and the item being promoted by the person who reflects him/her. And when Nike partnered with budding filmmaker Spike Lee for a series of Air Jordan commercials, this community heard their voice and saw themselves on every tv and billboard. 

This is hugely important, because it is necessary that people feel represented across the board – something we are very much striving to accomplish in these very moments of our lives. The danger comes when it is hijacked and twisted in order to make money. Which, from my interpretation of this film, is part of the legacy of Nike and Air Jordans. 

With scarcity comes status. So, if you could get your hands on a new pair of Jordans, you were somebody. But in order for you to get them, someone else didn’t. What happens when that someone else wants what you have? What happens when someone else is willing to kill for what you have? Because even as of last year, people are still killing to get their hands on these shoes.

And it seems so trivial, doesn’t it? After all, they are just shoes. And a lot of people don’t even wear them and instead the shoes sit in a box. So, why did Joshua Woods lose his life in late 2012 after being followed and shot in his car after his purchase? What is it about a logo that drives people to murder?

It’s obviously not about the shoes. 

I am a middle class white woman. I’ve dealt with my share of sexism and dismissal, of feeling devalued and less-than. But I have never been made to feel that my life doesn’t matter. As such, there is a piece of this I cannot understand. But it doesn’t mean I won’t try. 

Jemele Hill of Sports Center, who brings insight throughout the entire film, gives a glimpse into the deeper psyche of such incidents:

“Things like Jordans become very big status symbols in communities of color, communities that are historically and presently underserved, and the value of life is just not as appreciated when you’re hearing from every corner of society how much you’re not worth. It’s hard for you to look at yourself as worthy and certainly see that worth in somebody else.”

Wrecking, isn’t it? It’s a vicious cycle, one that feeds itself on the very mindset it fights against. Do I think Nike has a level of necessary corporate social responsibility as they tap into a reservoir of desire and use it for financial gain, even when it snowballs into loss of life, yes. But is it solely on them? No. That is a burden we all must bear. We have to walk a mile in our neighbor’s shoes…even if they’re covered in blood. 

One Man and His Shoes is available on VOD now.

The Secret Garden: The Magic of Life

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Like Little Women or Peter Pan, The Secret Garden is one of those stories that is regularly reinvented as each generation discovers it anew. The great thing about stories like these is that there is a richness and relevance that is open to new expressions and possibilities, especially in film. Adapted from Frances Hodgson Burnett’s novel by Jack Thorne (Wonder) and directed by Marc Munden, this newest version starring Colin Firth, Julie Walters, and Dixie Egerickx is without a doubt the most enchanting version of The Secret Garden I have ever watched. There is a tangible magic woven throughout the film that is a perfect blend of mystical and realistic – as if it truly is possible for such a garden to exist. 

Before we begin to see such magic spring to life, we travel with Mary Lennox: a young, spoiled girl who has spent most of her life in India with her father and ailing mother. Often shut out of her mother’s life, Mary spends her days telling stories and pining for her mother’s attention and love. When cholera and violence devastate her home, she is sent to live with her uncle, Lord Archibald Craven (Colin Firth). Still grieving the death of his wife (Mary’s aunt) years before, Lord Craven takes Mary in while his son Colin (Edan Hayhurst) is bedridden and locked away deep within the halls of the estate. 

As Mary uncovers more of the mystery surrounding the Craven family and her own, she ventures into uncharted territory both outdoors and in her own heart. Having arrived with an air of superiority and downright meanness, Mary explores what it means to speak and live with kindness…starting with a stray dog. From there she discovers an abandoned yet thriving garden and new friend Dickon (Amir Wilson). Together they begin to care for the garden and as Mary learns to open her heart, she works to teach her cousin Colin the same. 

Much like Mary in disposition, Colin is spoiled and rude. Having spent most of his life confined to his bed under the impression that he inherited his father’s hunchback, Colin is resigned to the belief that he will die soon, so what does it all matter. Mary is able to explain to him that he isn’t nearly as sick as supposed, and that there is a place where he can heal and learn to live. She and Dickon sneak Colin out into a world of color and sunshine, and we immediately see improvement in both Colin’s health and demeanor. Both Mary and Colin feel an ownership to the place that hosted visits and happy memories for their mothers, and it is in this place that Mary restores Lord Craven to his healthy son. 

I worry this review will feel flat because it’s hard to describe something that is so vibrant and living. The sub plots within the larger narrative are just as rich as what lives in the forefront. The garden is its own character as opposed to simply a place, and it’s done in such a way that it doesn’t feel either cheesy or fake. There wasn’t a moment that I felt bored or disconnected. As I watched all of the characters (including the garden) journey from surviving to truly living, I felt my own heart beat just a little faster at the prospect of stepping into a new day with as many promises for me as the secret garden held for Mary, Colin, Dickon, and their families. And when I reflect back on The Secret Garden, it will be this version in my mind’s eye.

The Secret Garden is available on VOD on Friday, August 7th, 2020.

Spinster: Don’t Settle

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The stereotype that it is a woman’s duty and place in society to “settle down” and have children is one that has been ingrained into the expectations of cultures all over the world for generations. A quick glance into history shows us how monarchies and dynasties rose and fell seemingly based on a woman’s ability to bear children (specifically sons), with kings and emperors taking new wives when no children resulted from those unions.

But all of that is in the past, right?

After all, we’re in the 21st century. Women make up just about half of the workforce in both the U.S. and Canada, and there are more women taking high-profile leadership roles across the world.

And yet.

And yet there is still a deeply rooted societal pressure for women to have children. When the conversation turns to a woman without children – especially a single woman – there seems to be an immediate sense of pity. She must be disappointed. She must be worried about her “biological clock.” She must feel empty and lonely. If a woman says she has chosen not to have children, it’s assumed she’s masking her true feelings, or bitter and jealous of others or, for some reason, selfish because she is embracing a life she has chosen.

Spinster with Chelsea Peretti (Brooklyn 99) tackles this stereotype with humor and honesty. After getting dumped on her 39th birthday by a boyfriend she didn’t really like anyway, Gabby reenters the dating world with the guidance of her married sister Amanda (Susan Kent) and divorced brother Alex (David Rossetti). Hoping to engage Gabby with a new circle of friends, Amanda includes her in dinner parties and clothing swaps, where the conversation is all but guaranteed to circle around to marriage and children. Gabby hilariously responds to the assumptions that there is something missing in her life with the classic delivery and confidence we’d expect from Brooklyn 99’s ‘Gina’. But underneath the wit is a woman seeking what her life could mean should she whole-heartedly choose to break the status quo. 

When her brother Alex first asks her to spend an evening a week with his daughter Adele (Nadia Tonen), Gabby wonders what on earth she is going to do with her adolescent niece. As she tries to come up with fun, adventurous things to do, Gabby learns Adele could use a lesson or two in speaking up for what she wants. As she encourages Adele and grows attached to their time together, Gabby learns that same language. She puts aside the search for a man and instead explores a life long dream of transforming her catering business into her own restaurant. Her companions in this? Rescue dog “Trudy,” and her independent neighbor/world traveler/professor Pia (Trina Corkum). It takes risk, defiance, ambition, and a little start-up cash/“non-wedding” money from dad Jack (Bill Carr), but Gabby presses forward in realization of who she is and what she wants.

While there are a few moments where the acting feels somewhat forced and awkward (Gabby and Amanda’s sleepover, the post Valentine’s Day date), I found this film to be absolutely delightful and relevant. I was worried near the end that the entire movie would be ruined when Gabby meets the seemingly “perfect” man, but was relieved by the final direction. It would have undermined the entire narrative of Gabby’s journey had it gone the way I feared. 

Spinster is the type of movie whose commentary on today’s issues is both fun and necessary. When we use film to illustrate the harm (no matter how unintended) that stereotypical expectations can cause, we have the opportunity to reach a variety of audiences and engage them in a train of thought that otherwise would have passed them by. Even for me, a working, married mother of four, I find this movie empowering. It’s ok to be a woman and stand up and speak up for what I want. It’s also vital for all of us to sit down and listen to the desires and ambitions of others whose goals in life may be different than our own. Our value isn’t tied to marriage and/or children. Our value lies in being. And when someone chooses a path that is unexpected or outside of the status quo, we are our best selves when we support and applaud them into the next season of their life, without projecting our own assumptions of “happiness” on them. Spinster articulates this remarkably well. 

Spinster is available on VOD on Friday, August 7th, 2020.

For audio of our interview with director Andrea Dorfman, click here.

Hamilton: Telling the Full Story

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I actually don’t know why I’m even attempting this post right now.

I mean, people have been praising the Broadway production of Hamilton since 2015. Being here five years later trying to say something new about it seems kind of silly. The only thing that I really need to say about the newest title on Disney+ is, it’s awesome. Watch it. The end.

But alas, I’ll give it a shot. (See what I did there?)

I was already slightly familiar with the music (to put it lightly), so I went into this knowing it’d be pretty amazing. However, I was admittedly unprepared for the power of seeing the action behind the words. While I imagine seeing it in-person and on stage is a sight to behold, being able to see the nuances of the actors as they brought the story of founding father Alexander Hamilton to life was moving. It was about more than the music for me – it was about how we tell hard stories in compelling ways.

Obviously, our history is both incredible and messy, and Hamilton’s version of past events acknowledges the good, the bad, and the ugly. While brilliant and persuasive, Alexander Hamilton was just as flawed as any other human being. He made major mistakes (a highly-scandalous affair for which he was extorted, for one), and played the political game at the expense of others. The characterization portrayed by Lin-Manuel Miranda is one of internal conflict, obsession with “rising above his station,” and an unwavering sense of self-preservation. 

Yet the acknowledgements of the messy aspects of Hamilton’s character doesn’t mean his goodness is any less notable. Willing to die for the idea of a free America, holding onto deep and abiding friendships, and witnessing to his own imperfections are all traits worth recognizing. And this is what is so compelling about the play itself. Hamilton doesn’t shy away from the complexity of early American history and the ones that paved away. 

The fact that the primary narration comes from Hamilton’s political frenemy Aaron Burr is an example of how history isn’t one-sided or only valuable when it comes from the victors or first-person perspective. History has multiple angles, and multiple story tellers. By going even deeper and highlighting the stories of those hovering in the background of the play, like Thomas Jefferson, Eliza Hamilton and Angelica Schuyler, and John Laurens, Hamilton creates a 360 degree view of one man’s story, and the ripples of impact he made not only on American history, but in his relationships as well. 

Now, I know this is ultimately a work of fiction, albeit heavily researched and based on both fact and historical interpretation. This is why I want to note that to get a more comprehensive view of human experience, we need multiple forms of storytelling. Plays and movies often engage a totally different audience as opposed to books and lectures, but clearly they can’t be the only source. Critical thinking, research, and participation are all key elements in our education. It’s ok to question the stories we’ve heard and learned. It’s ok to dig a little deeper.

And it’s ok to change how we view those stories once we get a bigger picture.

More often than not I’ve noticed people assuming that if I criticize something, I’m either attacking or wanting to erase the entire existing narrative. Like Eliza tried burning herself out of Hamilton’s story, I’m not able (or even desiring) to sweep the past under the rug. The intent is to bring to light that there are layers to all stories – even our own nation’s. And sometimes peeling back those layers hurt and make us uncomfortable. But even as I sat in the discomfort of Hamilton’s selfishness, I could look forward to the brighter future that would result from living into the whole story, because I didn’t shut my eyes… or ears… through the parts that hurt. 

Hamilton: The Musical is available now on Disney+

Wendy: Forever a Child

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I grew up with the 1960 version of Peter Pan starring Mary Martin, so much so, I can still sing “I’m flying” by heart. And something about the story of the boy who would never grow up has followed me around like a shadow, because I have kept a soft spot for all things Peter Pan. Maybe it’s the dream of eternal youth…maybe it’s the thrill of childhood adventure where anything can happen…maybe it is the journey of walking the line from childhood into adulthood and how we somehow strive to live in both worlds as we press on.

Whatever it is, I was looking for it in Benh Zeitlin’s Wendy, a film that dances between the well-known lore of Peter Pan and an eccentricity that is encompassed by an earthy realism of cinematography. Having never seen Zeitlin’s Oscar nominated film, Beasts of the Southern Wild, I wasn’t sure what to expect with this adaptation. And, truth be told, I sat kind of stunned and unsure of how I felt when Wendy was over.

With a cast of newcomers and unknowns, Wendy transports the viewer from a busy diner by the tracks to an island inhabited by lost boys, a mysterious group of aged adults known only as “the Olds,” and an underwater fish-like creature called “Mother.” It’s during their time here that Wendy (Devin France), and her brothers Douglas and James (twins Gage and Gavin Naquin respectively) latch onto the adventures of Peter (Yashua Mack) with the same determination to never grow up and lose the fun of being a child. While the basic storyline of a more typical Peter Pan is in tact, the expression of it couldn’t be more different. Where one might anticipate fanciful colors and scenery, Wendy is muted and dusty. Where one would look for good natured fun mixed with sword fights and fairies, Wendy borders on being too serious, pirate-less, and the only mythical creature we really see is the mother who lives under the sea. I squirmed through it, wondering where my beloved story was. 

The setting was part tropical island, part decimated war zone, creating a clear visual between the life of youth and the death of aging. There is a brief backstory to the destroyed living quarters of the Olds and how Peter came to be, but honestly I couldn’t follow it. Or was it because I didn’t want to, as this was just not Peter Pan? 

There were more elements that I simply didn’t care for, like the fish-like creature, “Mother,” and how far deep into the ocean the children had to swim to see her. James’ and Douglas’ storyline was heart wrenching, and at times I couldn’t help but want to yell at Peter for being so careless about those he is supposed to care for. Peter seems to always have that tendency of selfishness, yes, but this took it too far me. And while the ending was what it had to be, I still was dissatisfied with what I had just watched. And yet.

And yet I felt something nagging in my mind for days after. No, the story I loved wasn’t there on the surface, but the poignancy of Zeitlin’s adaptation wouldn’t leave me alone. With the majority of Peter Pan stories, it’s easy to embrace and then move on from the point that we have to grow up and leave childhood behind. But Wendy doesn’t really let you “move on.” I was left contemplating, and deeply, the implication that in transitioning from childhood to adulthood, there is death. There is that part of us, whether we call it innocence or naivety, that is lost and forever. We may cling to it or try to reclaim it, but the truth of our realities drowns out the fantasy. If Wendy and her brothers aren’t completely immune to it, how can I expect to be safe from it as well? We all have to grow up.

But that doesn’t mean that innocence in childhood is free from the worries of the world. This film displays just how messy childhood is. There is loss, there is pain, there is darkness. Grief knows no age limit. We do our best to guard and shelter our children but in many ways, they are on the front lines of life. They see and hear far more than we realize, and so their feelings dwell from depths unexpected. Being at home with four kids right now, who have been forcibly detached from their friends and families, has provided a crash course in just how easy it is to both under and over estimate their feelings and adaptability. They are resilient, yes. And often, the role of protector and comforter is transposed from us to them. When we hit the walls of realization that we “can’t go back,” they are the ones taking us by the hand and leading us off into a new horizon.

I am so guilty of simply assuming that because they are strong, they are ok. They run through the yard on invisible adventures, create entire worlds on paper and in their minds, and spend hours exploring the depths of their imaginations. But at night the fear creeps in. The unknown darkness overwhelms them as they finally focus on the changes the world is throwing at them, with their minds and bodies exhausted from it all. They turn to me, seeking peace and safety, and what can I offer? How do I balance hope with reality with the same grace and confidence that they do? Who am I to lead them, when I so desperately long to be them?

If I take anything with me from Wendy, it is that to be a child isn’t just to be innocent and carefree…to be a child means to hold onto life, with all the joy and all the sadness it brings. Yes there is fear and doubt, but there is also peace and hope. We are all children when we look at the world in front of us, in the midst of the good and the bad, and believe that “to live will be an awfully big adventure.”

Wendy is available on VOD now.

The Mandalorian: Righteous Rebellion

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At first I was merely enthralled with the craftsmanship of The Mandalorian. It only took three minutes before I was completely hooked and determined to soak this Star Wars meets old Hollywood western in all its brilliant glory. None of the praise had been exaggerated in the slightest.

And then I had to watch it again. And there’s a chance I watched it a third time as well. And then I re-watched my favorite parts and will watch them again later this evening, I’m sure.

What is it that keeps me coming back? I mean obviously the set design and grittiness of the costumes and the fantastic writing all have made their marks. But that isn’t all, is it? I started to think that maybe there was something underneath all of it that was speaking to me beyond entertainment. And as I sat down to type it out, it hit me like a ton of bricks. But first, some backstory.

A long time ago, in an article far far away, a fellow ScreenFish writer and I went head to head in a battle of the Robin Hoods. Of course now there are even more versions and I honestly don’t remember a lot of the article or why his version was better than mine (if it even was, right Jacob?). But there was one point that stood out to me and has followed me around years later.

Is it ever ok to break the rules? 

For the record, I don’t find this to be a fair question. I try not to deal in absolutes (10 points to whomever knows that reference) because there are always going to be varying degrees of context. Therefore this isn’t a straight yes/no question for me. But for argument’s sake, back then I took the “no” position, my main reason being that once one rule is broken, it becomes a slippery slope…then it’s two rules, then three. Then there is the question of who gets to determine that the rule is unjust? Not to mention what kind of example are we setting for others? People then bring in the argument for civil disobedience but often they are misunderstanding or misapplying the intent (at least in my experience). Rule breaking is a messy affair, and I don’t see how it is possible to project the varying degrees of impact both presently and in the future those decisions could make. So at what risk do we break the rules? 

(Moving out of backstory and into SPOILERS in case I’m not the last person to watch The Mandalorian)

When Mando goes back for the child in chapter 3, he ain’t just breaking one little rule. Not only had he delivered on and received payment for his commission, he’s essentially re-stealing what he had stolen in the first place. He breaks relationship, he breaks faith and trust, he puts his entire covert at risk. And we know for what…but why? Out of all the jobs where he stuck to the rules and didn’t ask questions, why this job? Why this time? 

Admittedly that’s more rhetorical than anything, because I’m sitting here wondering why in the past I was so not ok with a rule-breaking Robin Hood, and now I sit here cheering on a rule-breaking bounty hunter. I’m ok with Mando risking the security of the only family he has known for the safety of a little stranger. I’m ok with him risking the lives of others in order to give “the child” an opportunity to live. 

I mean yes, it’s a tv show. It’s entertainment. It’s providing an emotional outlet that also allows us to escape the stress and fear and dare I say it – the rules – of our daily lives. But good films and television take us beyond escapism and guide us through self-discovery – subverting our preconceived notions and assumptions. Something in me feels the rightness of Mando’s actions as he sets aside all he has worked toward for the good of the vulnerable. 

Maybe it isn’t a yes/no question. Maybe it even isn’t a why question – because after all, the why is going to be different in each unique scenario. Maybe a better question is how? How do we break the rules? Mando went in guns blazing, fire shooting from his arm, and literally blasting his way off of a planet. I’m going to say with a strong sense of certainty that that isn’t an option for us. So what is?

As a Christian, I am familiar with the ministry and context of Jesus in the New Testament. He challenged unjust restrictions and laws, questioned the authority of corrupted leadership, and encouraged an alternate approach of peace as opposed to violent rebellion. But there was always a subtlety in these actions. He used story and metaphor to explain the why. Instead of defiance, he used questions to challenge the assumptions of the religious leaders. He set the example of an alternative society but creating a new form of community and building something special from the inside out. And by doing it that way, it wasn’t that he was breaking the rules, but rewriting them from within. 

When I look at it that way, my questions are answered. Here’s to rewriting rules instead of just breaking them. 

Schitt’s Creek: Bloom Where You’re Planted

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One minute you are comfortable. You have all you need and then some. You have freedom to go anywhere, anytime, with anyone. Secure and confident in your situation, you spend your days enjoying unlimited opportunities. And then one day, government agents are at your door, confiscating furniture, jewelry, and you’re frantically trying to pack your wig collection and designer clothes before you lose them forever.

Ok, so maybe that hasn’t happened to you, but that’s the hilarious premise of Schitt’s Creek; the Canadian sitcom gem that is currently topping multiple “feel-good” viewing lists as the world finds itself in the midst of crisis that has forced entire countries into lockdowns. So actually in a way, many of us can understand the day-to-day “rug” being suddenly pulled out from under our feet. Just maybe not while wearing $850.00 pants.

Legendary comedic duo Eugene Levy and Catherine O’Hara star as Johnny and Moira Rose, whom, along with their children David and Alexis (Levy’s son Dan and newcomer Annie Murphy), lose everything built upon their video rental-store success due to a thieving business manager. As such, they are exiled to the tiny town of Schitt’s Creek – a “joke” of a birthday gift from Johnny to David that becomes their only means of survival…that and determined perseverance to ignore the reality of their situation. 

As of today, Schitt’s Creek is two episodes away of closing out its 6 season run, having only recently garnered the attention and notoriety it so richly deserves. What started as a seemingly superficial struggle from riches to rags has morphed into a deeply personal story of a family rediscovering who they are, and who they are meant to be. Dan Levy’s inaugural foray into writing and headlining is the stuff Hollywood dreams are made of; he brings decency and relatability that is often elusive in mainstream television, especially without the added perks of exuberant budgets. However, Schitt’s Creek has the good fortune of being filmed and directed on a network that doesn’t live and die by instant hits and quick buy-in. It has had time to take root and grow into something special and pretty universal – how to live life from moment to moment. 

It’s pretty impossible to sum up the first 5 seasons and I probably can’t really offer anything “new.” We see the Rose family slowly open up to their unexpected reality, with hilarious “relapses” into old expectations, like David trying to sell his clothes in season 1, or Moira’s extravagance for dehumidifiers and premier gowns in season 5. They never really stop being the Rose’s, but they uncover just how resilient and fortunate they are. David forms legitimate relationships for the first time in his life with best friend and motel-worker Stevie Budd (played by Emily Hampshire), and opens himself up to a real-life understanding of love with business-partner Patrick (played by Noah Reid). Alexis may always be a little superficial with random catch-phrases (“love that journey for me”), but she too learns to look beyond herself and her wants. And through it all, Johnny and Moira cling to one another as the one constant of their ever-changing life together. 

The show addresses topics such as sexuality, prejudice, small-town life, disappointment, anxiety, love, betrayal, and then some, with gentleness and humor and bravery. Dan Levy’s writing matures with each episode and character arc, to where even the “smaller” roles like that of café-owner Twyla (Dan’s sister Sarah) are just as integral to the story as the main characters. I don’t think there has yet to be a character or a scene that felt gratuitous or random. For me, everything and everyone comes together to build this story. I feel like it was written for a time such as this, when we all feel lost and unsure of our next steps, to show us how there is always a glimmer of laughter and light if we let go of what was, and open ourselves to the possibilities of what can be.  

Self-Isolation Film Festival: Bedknobs and Broomsticks

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Y’all. One of my all-time favorite movies growing up was Bedknobs and Broomsticks with Angela Lansbury (#legend), and David Tomlinson (Mr. Banks from Mary Poppins). Magic beds, children winning over gruff adults, an animated remote island of human-like animals, and Nazis…I mean, it has all the elements of childhood fantasy that one could ever need. And right now, a good old-fashioned fantasy film is what I need, so thank you Disney+. 

I sat down with my kids last Thursday night and introduced to them to this gem of 1970’s Disney, and was immediately transported to my grandparents’ living room, where I spent most of my childhood summer days watching this movie. Their home was the safest space in my life. It was there I learned how to paint, crochet, sew…the tasks my grandmother called “the lost arts,” with soap operas or Reba McEntire in the background. My grandfather showed me and my brother how to safely use a bandsaw for woodworking in between us jumping on the trampoline or setting up buckets and sticks and strings to try and catch squirrels or birds. When lunch rolled around, we would sit down and make mini sandwiches with crackers and cheese and pickles and cold caffeine free sodas. My happiest childhood memories are from those summers. Isn’t it amazing what a movie can inspire in our memories and hearts?

By the time siblings Paul, Carrie, and Charlie (Roy Snart, Cindy O’Callaghan, and Ian Weighill) arrive at Ms. Price’s home in rural England, she has been corresponding with Professor Emelius Brown for instructions on using magic. Her lack of organization and memory skills often mean spells going wrong, but she clearly has a gift. When the last letter comes with the closure of the college without the final spell, Ms. Price and the children travel to the city to discover the truth. But they don’t take a train or a car. No, they use Charlie’s bedknob with a traveling spell that Ms. Price has placed upon it. When he “taps it three times and turns a quarter-turn to the left,” the bed will take them wherever they want to go.

In London, they discover Mr. Brown is a bit of a fraud, had copied the spells from an old book, and didn’t have the final spell for substitutionary locomotion that Ms. Price hoped to use to help in the war with Germany. He’s amazed by her ability to actually use the spells, and she is determined to find the final spell. Their journey takes them to the mythical Island of Naboombu, where animals talk and walk and live like humans. This animated, magical world holds the key to that final spell, and the results will change the fate of our five travelers and maybe even the war itself. 

There are so many more things that I love about this movie, but what always makes me giddy is the search for something beyond ourselves that could make a difference. Of course there are things we can all do and parts we can all play, but I’m also looking for the signs that there is something out there…something powerful and miraculous…that can pick up where I leave off. And while it’s true that children are so good at believing in something that adults just can’t grasp, I love how this movie is led by a grown-up believing in that same magic. Oh, to be such an adult! 

In spite of a world that seems out of control, with fear and sickness and darkness seemingly in every corner, for me, movies like these transport me from into a world of laughter and color and magic. It may not be enough to completely block out the noise (nor should it in many cases), but for a couple of hours I am a kid again, spending summer days with those who’ve passed on, and I can look to the horizon with hope in my heart that the impossible is possible. 

Stargirl: A Lasting Light from a Fleeting Time

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I have to admit, it was the announcement that Disney was going to add Frozen 2 to Disney+ early that drove me straight to the “free trial.” I had wavered back and forth about the streaming service when it was first announced, and somehow even refrained despite the raving reviews of The Mandalorian. But my kids’ newest favorite movie, while gearing up for three weeks at home with the four of them undoubtedly going stir crazy even with the hope of well-organized daily routines? No brainer. 

Little did I expect that my first film on Disney+ would be the just-released Stargirl, a down to earth story based on the book by Jerry Spinelli, of how a small town high school is forever impacted by an out of this world new girl who shoots in and out of their lives just as her name describes. 

Leo Borlock (Graham Verchere), has stayed pretty low key after he and his mother Gloria, (Darby Stanchfield) relocate to the small town of Mica, Arizona following his father’s death. It’s a place where “nothing happens,” and Leo paints a picture of invisibility that began after an ill-fated meet-up with some older bullies when he first arrived years before. 

But there is always a little light for Leo. Every year on his birthday, someone leaves a porcupine tie on his doorstep. Knowing the backstory of why this matters, we are given a foreshadowing of what…or whom…is to come.

That whom is Stargirl Caraway (Grace VaderWaal), a local homeschooled student who stops everyone in their tracks when she walks in with her unconventional bright and mismatched outfits, and eagerness to bring joy to everyone around her. And for someone like Leo, who has worked for so long to blend in, she is a beacon of color in a monotone world. 

The structure is relatively similar to other teen films, mainly how “the quirky kid wins over some popular kids while encouraging the shy kid to break free from self-imposed averageness.” Stargirl pushes Leo out of his comfort zone while rallying the entire school towards football victory (of course). And yes, there is the ebb and flow of first love’s and fights and good intentions gone bad. The formula isn’t necessarily “new.”

But the manner in which this is delivered felt…more important, maybe?

Maybe it’s because a lot of teen movies end in a kiss with some popular music in the background, and this one strayed from that part of the formula. Maybe it’s because I could actually believe they were in high school. Maybe it’s because I could feel real heart in the script.

Bu I think what really made me sit up and pay attention was Leo’s question, “who would take the time for someone they don’t even know?”

Our world is in a bit of a crisis. Every day, information spreads like wildfire, as we all work to stop a virus that spreads even faster. Some people are panicking, some are ignoring, but most of us are trying to find balance. And all of us are being encouraged to take this time to do something “for someone they don’t even know.”

I don’t have to know you to be kind. I don’t have to know you to press pause on my typical routine in an effort to protect you. I don’t have to know you to want light and color and joy filter into your life, even in the midst of uncertainty. 

I don’t have to know you to love you. 

At some point, we will go back to our normal routines. There will be stories and memories, as Leo explains, that will leave lasting marks. But what I hope is the most lasting is a commitment to caring for one another at all times, in all ways. We will forever be changed. And it is my prayer that it will be a change that shines as bright as the stars that burn so fiercely above us.

Stargirl is streaming on Disney+ now.