I’m surprised we made it through Disclaimer, though that’s not entirely true, because both Anja and I would have a hard time quitting anything that involves the acting of Cate Blanchett. Looking back, I feel our experience was exactly as intended (even though author’s intent may well be the most boring of analytical categories in the study of media.)

The show’s disclaimers, both diegetic and non-diegetic, kept me thinking they’re such pedestrian vehicles for spoiling. “Sometimes, meaning can only be conveyed through the shock of the unexpected”, I thought. Still, throughout the show, the disclaimers made me interpret and reinterpret and misinterpret “depictions of sexual, physical, and emotional violence” in ways I thought I had somehow transcended by now.

The series has left me feeling uncomfortably unsophisticated.

Disclaimer is one of those beautiful examples of a terror that can only be rightly experienced once, upon the first viewing, much like Irréversible and Antichrist. I keep thinking “well, I could’ve done with a bit more foreshadowing and character development around the twist”. In all honestly, though, I say this to myself only to alleviate the discomfort I feel as I imagine myself Sacha Baron Cohen in a hospital chair, guilty and bewildered, hearing perhaps the saddest of realities about myself.

We had two friends over today. They’re dear to me specifically because we got to know each other intimately during our eating disorder recovery. We promised we’d one day get together and watch Love Actually, much-beloved by each of us. I’ve developed a habit of watching this film at least once a year. Despite its soft romcomness, homogenous cast, and general lack of depth it has taught me volumes on relationships. (Continue)

In one of the many jubilant reviews garnered by Darren Aronofsky’s latest film The Whale, one writer concluded that we shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. This was in reference to the morbidly obese main character who eventually dies, but not before we find out he developed an eating disorder out of grief. Here was a fat man who evidently had feelings despite his exterior. Ironically, I find myself doing just what the writer suggested I don’t: judge the film before I’ve seen it. (Continue)