Post-structuralisim and Post-- Just kidding. On Pixar's Onward and Bo Burnham's comedy.
So, I've been watching a lot of TV. At the beginning of this social distancing, I had about a hundred papers to mark, so the majority of my time when I wasn't working, was spent marking papers. I kept daydreaming about what I could be doing if I wasn't marking. I would read. I would write. I could just sit and think. My one friend told me he was writing a sort of philosophical outline for his personal life ethos, sort of thing, and I was like, "That. I want to do that."
Well since I finished the marking, I've been watching TV. My kids were here on the weekend, and we watched Onward, Pixar's latest feature (which they released on Disney+ due to the pandemic), three times in three days. It's not their best effort, but it is the usual Pixar magic that takes a bit of a clicheic trope and twists it in a way that makes it meaningful. It's fun, and I'll definitely watch it again.
Without spoiling it, it is a story of two brothers going on a quest in order to find their dad. But what I found so fascinating about it was the brothers' relationship. There is none of the typical rivalry you usually find in brother/brother relationships in most stories. They get in an argument, and the younger thinks the older is irresponsible or childish, but there's no bullying, no picking on each other, not even really any bickering. They obviously care about each other, and their relationship is strengthened further by the end of the film.
At the end of my third time through it, I thought maybe I would have liked to have a brother. And honestly, I think this is the first time I have ever wished for this.
* * *
I have always felt like I didn't know how to be a boy, and then a man. Part of that had to do, I think, with growing up with three sisters. They didn't dress me up in any dresses or do my make-up, but we did play with dolls together, and our choice of movies tended towards chick-flicks rather than any mega-masculine action flicks. When my friends were wrestling, or just generally rough-housing, I would steer clear so as 1) not to get dirty or rip my clothes, but 2) I knew, or was afraid, that I would lose whatever battle we were to have. I would pass it off as being too cool to fight, but really I just didn't want to be embarrassed that I didn't know how to wrestle. This feeling that I didn't know how to be a boy followed through my teenage years, where I actually preferred chick-flicks to any other genres of film, when most of my favourite authors were women (still are), when even reading was supposedly a feminine or at least childish thing, when I even felt wildly uncomfortable talking about girls and women except for with my closest of friends, and as the deepest of secretes. General "locker talk" always made me feel so embarrassed, which is not to say I was any sort of saint. I internalized the same patriarchal misogyny everyone else did; I just could never feel comfortable voicing my thoughts.
Another part of that was--again, just me thinking--to do with growing up in the church and learning that the "man was the head of the household," and being taught all these things about boys and men needing to be leaders and standing for what is right and to guide others down whatever the right "path" was supposed to be. And beside the church, just society in general telling us to "man up"--or--"quit crying" (I was a bit of a cry baby)--or--"having the balls" to try anything, etc. Men are supposed to want or know how to fix things, around the house, but also generally when people have problems, and I certainly wasn't any kind of handiman, and I tended to listen to problems without offering any solutions, mostly cause I didn't think I had any. Dudes like cars, right? I liked black ones, but anything more than that I couldn't care less. I was careful to put the toilet seat down. I remembered important dates. Besides liking (and being pretty decent at playing) sports, I didn't feel like I fit any sort of masculine mold. I know I'm talking about the most crude stereotypes, and these really have nothing to do with being a man, but as a young man I wasn't quite as aware as all that. Understanding that this was how I was expected to be and then feeling like I would never or could never be an effective "man" in any meaningful way gave me a consistent feeling of being a failure.
When people found out I was the only boy out of four siblings, they'd always ask me if I wished I had a brother, and my answer was always, "I dunno. I guess so, but I don't mind having sisters."
"It's not weird being the only boy?" they'd say.
"Well it's the only thing I've ever known, so it doesn't feel weird," I'd tell them, but I'd often wonder what I'd be like if I had had a brother. I wondered if I would know how to rough-house or roll around in mud, or spit, but mostly it just made me feel anxious, because I believed if I did have a brother, older or even younger, they'd probably be better than I was at doing boy things. I really felt having only sisters gave me an excuse for not being a typical dude.
When I found out my first child was going to be a boy, I freaked right out.
I wasn't expecting that. I knew I wanted to have a girl, but wouldn't have been able to explain the complete wash of terror I felt when they told me it was a boy, and that I would be charged with teaching this little thing how to grow into a man. It's hard for me to explain how I felt. I just had no idea what I was supposed to do with a little boy.
But ya know what? I think it's turned out alright. My son may not be a "typical dude," the way society thinks he should. He just turned eleven, and he's something of a cry-baby still. He gets scared at movies even his little sister (8) gets a thrill out of, so much so that he sometimes can't sleep at night. He's not particularly good at sports, doesn't like getting dirty, rarely wants to wrestle or anything. But I love the little man he's becoming, and I love that he hasn't really internalized all the BS that "being a man" is supposed to be in this world. He still grabs my hand when we're walking through a mall. He still wants to cuddle with me when we're watching a movie. A couple of weeks before this pandemic, he forgot his lunch at my house before school, and I when I brought it to his school, I knocked on his classroom door and opened it a crack. When he saw me hold his lunch up, he came running to get it. And he kissed me on the lips and said, "I love you, Daddy." In front of his entire classroom.
My point here is that while I may not have felt like a stereotypical dude, and I may not be raising a stereotypical boy, but the boy I am raising is pretty damn awesome.
* * *
I feel like Disney and Pixar are doing interesting things these days with their cartoons, and maybe Pixar has always been doing them. Pixar's films explore relationships in ways other cartoons almost never do. While they are always wild adventures, they hinge on the relationships, but they aren't the male/female relationships Disney (and other animation studios) has typically focused on. The only real love stories I can think of are Wall-E, maybee the subplot of the first Cars, and the subplot of A Bug's Life? There may be one or two more, but otherwise they are exploring real relationships between mother and daughter (Brave), father and son (Finding Nemo), Families (The Incredibles; Inside Out), but mostly friends (Cars, Toy Story(s), Monsters 1&2), and most of the others. There movies are sentimental, but in a way that is not flat sentimentality, but meaningful.
And Disney is starting to follow them, with their stories of friendship (Wreck it Wralph, which I really liked as it was a boy/girl friendship, something I sincerely believed wasn't allowed as a small boy who thought if you were friends with a girl it meant you "liked" them, a belief that was with me embarrassingly deep into adulthood), sisters (Frozen), families (Big Hero 6), etc. The company seems to be moving away from the stereotypical (and arguably unhealthy) male/female romantic relationships in favour of more realistic familial and friends relationships and seems to be even pushing back against many of the stereotypes they have perpetuated for so long, with Frozen, for instance, talking about an "act of true love" throughout, but having that be an act of sacrificing for ones sister.
Earlier today I was listening to a podcast called Revolutionary Left Radio (don't laugh), and they were discussing post-modernism, post-structuralism, and something they called metamodernism. Much of it was way over my head, but they started off talking about the philosophy of Bo Burnham's stand-up comedy.
Okay, I have watched his Netflix special, "Make Happy," probably ten times. I think about it all the time, but have never really been able to figure out why I liked it so much. It's a mixture of this absurd comedy that means absolutely nothing, but he mixes in these weird moments of honesty that kind of blow me away each time. These bits aren't funny, necessarily, but they bring the whole special together in a way that couldn't be done without them. To me, it's a beautiful hour of entertainment. It's made me cry more than once.
But these guys talked about it as what they called "post-post-modernism," which (without getting all philosophical/technical) seemed to mean Bo is trying to "push through" the nihilism that so much of the post-modern comedy deals in, where irony is king, and criticism of culture is hilarious, but doesn't really mean anything--criticism for criticism's sake--pushing through to get where the criticism brings you to a meaningful place. Their argument (tho it was just a discussion) said that society in general seems to be moving past its nihilist critique of everything (from governments to literature to whatever) and its disdain for anything remotely sentimental, to a place where sincerity and honesty infused into that critique makes the thing--comedy in particular, but pop-culture in general--feel meaningful.
And I think maybe Pixar has been doing this all along, and Disney's last few movies are tapping into this idea that a story can be sentimental without feeling forced or empty, that it can be a critique of culture (even if in menial ways) but doesn't have to be simply ironic or ridiculous.
Onward does this, the more I'm thinking about it, it quite a few ways, but particularly with the brothers' relationship. I really don't want to spoil things, but the relationship is showing what it means to be a supportive and caring in a world that asks men to be domineering and competitive. In a world of sibling rivalries, and older brothers being most often portrayed as bullies or at least indifferent to their younger siblings, here is a relationship that shows an older brother being nothing but supportive and excited for his younger brother, even when it means he--the elder--does not get to participate in things he's dreamt of his whole life. In the end, the younger sacrifices in an actual devastating way for the sake of the elder, and it's an actual beautiful portrayal of to boys taking charge, leading, learning from each other, solving problems, all while expressing themselves in meaningful ways. In a world where toxic masculinity is kind of a buzz word, but which is a demonstrably verifiable consequence of the ways our society speaks to young boys and girls, Pixar has presented a version of masculinity that is neither toxic nor beating us over the head the ways some other things have (I'm thinking of that Gillette commercial). It's sentimental, but meaningful in a way that, if I'm honest, surprised me. I'm glad to have watched it, and that my kids enjoyed it so much.
When I finished watching it the last time, I found myself thinking it would have been nice to have an older brother like that, or even moreso, to have been able to have been that older brother. I know myself to be selfish and self-centred, and I'm not sure I would have been supportive in the ways the elder brother was in Onward, but this is the first time in my life I've wished for a brother. I feel like it's impressive a children's cartoon was able to do that.
---
I've read about 7 pages since this isolation started. This is the first bit of substance I've written at all. My place is messier than I'd like, and I'm having a real hard time motivating myself to do much of anything. So I've been watching TV. I'm gonna read more, I am. And I'll probably write. But I guess I'm okay with TV for now.
Well since I finished the marking, I've been watching TV. My kids were here on the weekend, and we watched Onward, Pixar's latest feature (which they released on Disney+ due to the pandemic), three times in three days. It's not their best effort, but it is the usual Pixar magic that takes a bit of a clicheic trope and twists it in a way that makes it meaningful. It's fun, and I'll definitely watch it again.
Without spoiling it, it is a story of two brothers going on a quest in order to find their dad. But what I found so fascinating about it was the brothers' relationship. There is none of the typical rivalry you usually find in brother/brother relationships in most stories. They get in an argument, and the younger thinks the older is irresponsible or childish, but there's no bullying, no picking on each other, not even really any bickering. They obviously care about each other, and their relationship is strengthened further by the end of the film.
At the end of my third time through it, I thought maybe I would have liked to have a brother. And honestly, I think this is the first time I have ever wished for this.
* * *
I have always felt like I didn't know how to be a boy, and then a man. Part of that had to do, I think, with growing up with three sisters. They didn't dress me up in any dresses or do my make-up, but we did play with dolls together, and our choice of movies tended towards chick-flicks rather than any mega-masculine action flicks. When my friends were wrestling, or just generally rough-housing, I would steer clear so as 1) not to get dirty or rip my clothes, but 2) I knew, or was afraid, that I would lose whatever battle we were to have. I would pass it off as being too cool to fight, but really I just didn't want to be embarrassed that I didn't know how to wrestle. This feeling that I didn't know how to be a boy followed through my teenage years, where I actually preferred chick-flicks to any other genres of film, when most of my favourite authors were women (still are), when even reading was supposedly a feminine or at least childish thing, when I even felt wildly uncomfortable talking about girls and women except for with my closest of friends, and as the deepest of secretes. General "locker talk" always made me feel so embarrassed, which is not to say I was any sort of saint. I internalized the same patriarchal misogyny everyone else did; I just could never feel comfortable voicing my thoughts.
Another part of that was--again, just me thinking--to do with growing up in the church and learning that the "man was the head of the household," and being taught all these things about boys and men needing to be leaders and standing for what is right and to guide others down whatever the right "path" was supposed to be. And beside the church, just society in general telling us to "man up"--or--"quit crying" (I was a bit of a cry baby)--or--"having the balls" to try anything, etc. Men are supposed to want or know how to fix things, around the house, but also generally when people have problems, and I certainly wasn't any kind of handiman, and I tended to listen to problems without offering any solutions, mostly cause I didn't think I had any. Dudes like cars, right? I liked black ones, but anything more than that I couldn't care less. I was careful to put the toilet seat down. I remembered important dates. Besides liking (and being pretty decent at playing) sports, I didn't feel like I fit any sort of masculine mold. I know I'm talking about the most crude stereotypes, and these really have nothing to do with being a man, but as a young man I wasn't quite as aware as all that. Understanding that this was how I was expected to be and then feeling like I would never or could never be an effective "man" in any meaningful way gave me a consistent feeling of being a failure.
When people found out I was the only boy out of four siblings, they'd always ask me if I wished I had a brother, and my answer was always, "I dunno. I guess so, but I don't mind having sisters."
"It's not weird being the only boy?" they'd say.
"Well it's the only thing I've ever known, so it doesn't feel weird," I'd tell them, but I'd often wonder what I'd be like if I had had a brother. I wondered if I would know how to rough-house or roll around in mud, or spit, but mostly it just made me feel anxious, because I believed if I did have a brother, older or even younger, they'd probably be better than I was at doing boy things. I really felt having only sisters gave me an excuse for not being a typical dude.
When I found out my first child was going to be a boy, I freaked right out.
I wasn't expecting that. I knew I wanted to have a girl, but wouldn't have been able to explain the complete wash of terror I felt when they told me it was a boy, and that I would be charged with teaching this little thing how to grow into a man. It's hard for me to explain how I felt. I just had no idea what I was supposed to do with a little boy.
But ya know what? I think it's turned out alright. My son may not be a "typical dude," the way society thinks he should. He just turned eleven, and he's something of a cry-baby still. He gets scared at movies even his little sister (8) gets a thrill out of, so much so that he sometimes can't sleep at night. He's not particularly good at sports, doesn't like getting dirty, rarely wants to wrestle or anything. But I love the little man he's becoming, and I love that he hasn't really internalized all the BS that "being a man" is supposed to be in this world. He still grabs my hand when we're walking through a mall. He still wants to cuddle with me when we're watching a movie. A couple of weeks before this pandemic, he forgot his lunch at my house before school, and I when I brought it to his school, I knocked on his classroom door and opened it a crack. When he saw me hold his lunch up, he came running to get it. And he kissed me on the lips and said, "I love you, Daddy." In front of his entire classroom.
My point here is that while I may not have felt like a stereotypical dude, and I may not be raising a stereotypical boy, but the boy I am raising is pretty damn awesome.
* * *
I feel like Disney and Pixar are doing interesting things these days with their cartoons, and maybe Pixar has always been doing them. Pixar's films explore relationships in ways other cartoons almost never do. While they are always wild adventures, they hinge on the relationships, but they aren't the male/female relationships Disney (and other animation studios) has typically focused on. The only real love stories I can think of are Wall-E, maybee the subplot of the first Cars, and the subplot of A Bug's Life? There may be one or two more, but otherwise they are exploring real relationships between mother and daughter (Brave), father and son (Finding Nemo), Families (The Incredibles; Inside Out), but mostly friends (Cars, Toy Story(s), Monsters 1&2), and most of the others. There movies are sentimental, but in a way that is not flat sentimentality, but meaningful.
And Disney is starting to follow them, with their stories of friendship (Wreck it Wralph, which I really liked as it was a boy/girl friendship, something I sincerely believed wasn't allowed as a small boy who thought if you were friends with a girl it meant you "liked" them, a belief that was with me embarrassingly deep into adulthood), sisters (Frozen), families (Big Hero 6), etc. The company seems to be moving away from the stereotypical (and arguably unhealthy) male/female romantic relationships in favour of more realistic familial and friends relationships and seems to be even pushing back against many of the stereotypes they have perpetuated for so long, with Frozen, for instance, talking about an "act of true love" throughout, but having that be an act of sacrificing for ones sister.
Earlier today I was listening to a podcast called Revolutionary Left Radio (don't laugh), and they were discussing post-modernism, post-structuralism, and something they called metamodernism. Much of it was way over my head, but they started off talking about the philosophy of Bo Burnham's stand-up comedy.
Okay, I have watched his Netflix special, "Make Happy," probably ten times. I think about it all the time, but have never really been able to figure out why I liked it so much. It's a mixture of this absurd comedy that means absolutely nothing, but he mixes in these weird moments of honesty that kind of blow me away each time. These bits aren't funny, necessarily, but they bring the whole special together in a way that couldn't be done without them. To me, it's a beautiful hour of entertainment. It's made me cry more than once.
But these guys talked about it as what they called "post-post-modernism," which (without getting all philosophical/technical) seemed to mean Bo is trying to "push through" the nihilism that so much of the post-modern comedy deals in, where irony is king, and criticism of culture is hilarious, but doesn't really mean anything--criticism for criticism's sake--pushing through to get where the criticism brings you to a meaningful place. Their argument (tho it was just a discussion) said that society in general seems to be moving past its nihilist critique of everything (from governments to literature to whatever) and its disdain for anything remotely sentimental, to a place where sincerity and honesty infused into that critique makes the thing--comedy in particular, but pop-culture in general--feel meaningful.
And I think maybe Pixar has been doing this all along, and Disney's last few movies are tapping into this idea that a story can be sentimental without feeling forced or empty, that it can be a critique of culture (even if in menial ways) but doesn't have to be simply ironic or ridiculous.
Onward does this, the more I'm thinking about it, it quite a few ways, but particularly with the brothers' relationship. I really don't want to spoil things, but the relationship is showing what it means to be a supportive and caring in a world that asks men to be domineering and competitive. In a world of sibling rivalries, and older brothers being most often portrayed as bullies or at least indifferent to their younger siblings, here is a relationship that shows an older brother being nothing but supportive and excited for his younger brother, even when it means he--the elder--does not get to participate in things he's dreamt of his whole life. In the end, the younger sacrifices in an actual devastating way for the sake of the elder, and it's an actual beautiful portrayal of to boys taking charge, leading, learning from each other, solving problems, all while expressing themselves in meaningful ways. In a world where toxic masculinity is kind of a buzz word, but which is a demonstrably verifiable consequence of the ways our society speaks to young boys and girls, Pixar has presented a version of masculinity that is neither toxic nor beating us over the head the ways some other things have (I'm thinking of that Gillette commercial). It's sentimental, but meaningful in a way that, if I'm honest, surprised me. I'm glad to have watched it, and that my kids enjoyed it so much.
When I finished watching it the last time, I found myself thinking it would have been nice to have an older brother like that, or even moreso, to have been able to have been that older brother. I know myself to be selfish and self-centred, and I'm not sure I would have been supportive in the ways the elder brother was in Onward, but this is the first time in my life I've wished for a brother. I feel like it's impressive a children's cartoon was able to do that.
---
I've read about 7 pages since this isolation started. This is the first bit of substance I've written at all. My place is messier than I'd like, and I'm having a real hard time motivating myself to do much of anything. So I've been watching TV. I'm gonna read more, I am. And I'll probably write. But I guess I'm okay with TV for now.
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