I Wanna Hold Your Hand: A Short History of Teen Girls in the Beatles Fandom

The Beatles’ music is considered to be more or less universal, with fans all over the world and of all ages. But in my 11 years as a Beatles fan, I have found that the most active participants in Beatles fan culture are still teenage girls. They put up Beatles posters in their bedrooms, collect vinyl records, spend their allowances on the myriad and sundry Beatles memorabilia, and share and trade pictures, stories, and rare audio clips with other teenage fans. The bulk of their interactions happen online, in fan communities or on social networks such as Tumblr, where users can create a personal page reflecting their interest in the Beatles and re-blog other fan’s creations (graphics, gifs, mash-ups, fan art, and fan fiction).

My most formative experiences as a teen girl Beatles fan in the early 2000s centred around online fan-forums and fan-pages, since my peers “in real life” found my new interest weird, boring and alienating. I ventured online to find out more about my new obsession, and I was met with a plethora of Beatles fan sites run by teenage girls. The content was often quite similar to what you might find on fan sites for contemporary groups such as *NSYNC and the Backstreet Boys: Top Ten lists, light-hearted humour, and pages and pages of dreamy photos. It was through these websites that I found a sense of community with other fans and learned how to develop critical thinking skills about my favourite media, as a common theme on these pages was the good-natured mocking of the more humorous moments of the band members post-Beatles careers, including Ringo’s stint on Shining Time Station and Paul McCartney’s ill-fated marriage to his much-younger model wife, Heather Mills. The most popular fan sites at the time were run by teen girls and hosted by third-party websites such as Angelfire, Geocities, and Xanga. 

One of the most prolific webmistresses was Sabrina (no last name known) who ran “God Bless the Beatles”, a Beatles fan site which was unabashedly teen-centric in its use of raunchy, sarcastic humour, teen slang, and breathless rhapsodizing on the physical attractiveness of the Fab Four. “God Bless the Beatles” was initially hosted on a single Tripod page, and eventually expanded onto four different Tripod platforms, as the webmistress churned out enough writing and rare photos to constantly surpass the set limit for uploaded content. “God Bless the Beatles” was comprised of a sprawling assortment of themed pages- some devoted to humorous fan fiction, some to Beatle biography reviews, and some tributes to deceased members of the Beatles’ entourage. Also among these were many pages devoted to the Beatles’ former wives and girlfriends, which included information about their lives, photos, and guides on how to imitate their fashion, hair, and make-up style. One could argue that the fan-worship that sprung up for the Beatles’ wives and girlfriends was tied to cultural norms about rock music which teach boys to aspire to be musicians and teach girls to aspire to date musicians. However, I counter that the fan-worship of these women is linked more to young teen girls’ efforts to carve out a niche for themselves in the Beatles fandom, and to create a space that was explicitly feminized, something that would alienate the middle-aged men who, up until that point, had been the most vocal (if not the most active) members of the Beatles fandom in popular media. 

Why did teen girls in the 2000s feel the need to claim a space of their own in the Beatles fandom? Weren’t all the Beatles’ fans originally screaming teenage girls, anyway? They certainly were, and the Beatles’ female fandom persisted throughout their 11-year run as a band, from the following that began when they were playing gigs in their native Liverpool in the early days, to the young girls who stood outside the court house bawling during Paul McCartney’s 1969 marriage to Linda Eastman. Their music grew and changed over the years, and their fan base widened as they experimented with more daring musical forms, but their core female fan base stayed with them throughout the course of their career. 

The Beatles fandom persisted in the 1970s despite the split of the band, and the demand for Beatles-centric discussion and content was strong enough to lead to several different fan publications (newsletters, magazines, and fan anthologies) most of which were published semi-regularly during the decade. Unlike mainstream coverage, which only offered reviews for the separate members’ solo output, these fan magazines focused on the Beatles as a group, placing emphasis on their chemistry and group dynamic and offering speculation on a possible Beatles reunion. Most of these fan publications were either spearheaded by women or contained a majority of content contributed by women. Aside from the reunion speculations, the fanzines also offered interviews with Beatles hangers-on, stories about fan encounters, fan art, and fan fiction. By the end of the ‘70s, the Beatles had become widely recognized as extremely influential in music and gained a large, diverse fan base, but the most active participants within deeper fan culture were still female: women who had grown up loving the Beatles, and young girls who were just discovering their music for the first time. It was not uncommon for a teen girl in the ‘70s to list the Beatles as her favourite group, along with those other teen girl favourites of the ‘70s, The Bay City Rollers and the Jackson 5.

It was not until John Lennon’s assassination in 1980 that the mainstream’s idea of the “typical” Beatles fan began to change. Upon Lennon’s death, fans worldwide were plunged into very public mourning. But the thing about Lennon’s death is that it wasn’t just the hardcore fans who were mourning his death- it was also people who, although not “fans” per se, grew up in the era of Beatlemania and associated his music with their carefree days of youth. Lennon’s death symbolized the end of innocence for many of these people, and, in order to legitimize their mourning of a man they’d never known or met (and who, for a good part of his life, was associated with screaming girls), they began the deification of Saint John Lennon, a radical peacenik, spokesperson for a generation, and “the thinking man’s Beatle”. In contrast, Paul McCartney, whose post-Beatles career was dominated with love ballads and odes to family life on the farm, was “for women”. 

Although the John vs. Paul dichotomy began in the ‘70s, it was certainly exacerbated by Lennon’s death, as male fans began to infiltrate female fan spaces, many of the fanzines folded, and fan conventions began to focus more on the then-typically masculinized pursuits of tribute bands and record collecting. This would continue throughout the ‘80s and most of the ‘90s, and although there were plenty of female Beatles fans out there, both young and old, they weren’t given the recognition that their male counterparts were, often being left out of retrospective documentaries and magazine articles, despite their contributions to fandom and knowledge of the group. 

Things changed in the ‘90s as the internet began to pick up steam, and more and more households began to have working internet access. By the late ‘90s, website-hosting platforms such as Angelfire, gURL.com, and Geocities provided an easy template for teen girls to create a web space of their own, and teen girl Beatles fans, feeling alienated by the rest of the fandom, saw it as an opportunity to re-claim their voice in a fandom that should always have belonged to them. 

The Beatles occupied several spaces in the life of a young teen female fan in the early 2000s. Often, the music served as a link between these girls and their parents or older family member, the shared love of the music bridging the gap between young and old. The Beatles mythos/legend served as a guiding force and stability for teens who lacked it in their lives. And the Beatles themselves were rendered as crush objects, or, to put it more bluntly in the post-Sexual Revolution 2000s- as sex objects. These websites and message boards allowed girls who might have felt disenfranchised among their classmates (but also disenfranchised at male-dominated Beatles meet-ups) to talk about their shared interests with girls who were just like them. As I’ve said, the enthusiasm and approach they took towards the Beatles wasn’t much different from what their peers might write about any of the boy bands du jour. But the internet allowed these girls a space of their own, a place where they could freak out about a band that split up over 30 years ago, a place to be teen girl-y about something that they might be teased for by their teen girl peers at school. 

As an adult, I can now look back on my time in the Beatles web-based fandom as an extremely positive experience. At a time when my life was unsure and unstable, I gained several older female mentors. I learned that it was okay to be crazy over things that YM magazine and MuchMusic weren’t shoving down my throat, and through writing fan fiction and creating fan art of the Beatles, I honed both my writing skills and art skills. 

Men may try to claim the Beatles as their own, but they will always belong to teen girls. It was teen girls that made the Beatles popular, it was teen girls and women that championed them relentlessly, and teen girls will always be there- discovering the Beatles for the first time, and excitedly proclaiming their love for the four lads from Liverpool. After all, weren’t their best songs written for girls?

Shelly Johnson is the unsung heroine of Twin Peaks

Trigger warning: this entry contains discussions of sexual abuse, spousal abuse, and child abuse.

When I talk about Twin Peaks, I always feel it necessary to mention that my fascination and obsession with the show lies much deeper than a regard for its moody aesthetics or an appreciation for  David Lynch as a director (although I very much appreciate David Lynch). For me, it is more than just a TV show and cultural icon, it is something very spiritual to me, something that speaks to the dark places of my soul that I thought nothing could ever penetrate.

Twin Peaks is often name-dropped by mainstream media and bloggers as a quirky supernatural detective show, an interesting piece of '90s ephemera, while its more significant themes of abuse and incest are largely ignored in favour of references to cherry pie and saddle shoes. It's not that I mean to be pretentious, as if I'm the only one who loves the show for its dark themes and connects with it emotionally, because many women in the fandom do, but I do feel that certain aspects of the show are overrepresented while other elements of the show (as well as important and meaningful characters) are largely ignored.

With that in mind, I'd like to devote some time to arguably my favourite character in the series, waitress Shelly Johnson.

Unlike the other ladies of Twin Peaks, not much of Shelly's backstory is explicitly stated, other than that she dropped out of high school to marry truck-driver Leo. However, there is much we can infer about her life based on context and clues given by the show and tie-in materials. 

At the time we are introduced to Shelly, she is 19 years old, and she states that she dropped out of eleventh grade to marry Leo, which means that she has been married to him for at least two years. She works at the Double R Diner as a waitress and seems to be friends with the proprietor Norma (who, at 35 or so, plays somewhat of a maternal role towards Shelly).

The biggest question about Shelly seems to be "why is she so alone?". Her parents or any sort of family are never mentioned and she doesn't seem to have anywhere to go to get away from Leo's abuse. She also seems to lack any of the resources that she would need to escape from him: she doesn't have any money of her own (likely because Leo takes all her earnings from the diner) and she also seems to lack a lot of adult life skills, like driving.

None of this seems coincidental to me. I think it is indicative of a history of parental abuse for Shelly. It's important to think about the context here: what would be going on in Shelly's everyday life that would lead to her dropping out of school and moving out to marry a truck driver? Why else would anyone be so desperate to get out of their parents' house? Of course, the sad irony is that because Shelly probably grew up in an abusive household, she would be unlikely to recognize the red flags and warning signs of abusive behaviour in Leo, as she would have become so accustomed to abuse at home that she wouldn't be able to recognize what wasn't normal.

It seems to me that Shelly has known abuse all her life, and that she is not so dissimilar from her deceased peer, Laura Palmer. Shelly is 19, Laura was 17- they would have passed each other in the halls at school before Shelly dropped out, and they knew each other from volunteering from Meals on Wheels. They were both abuse victims and were both involved with Leo Johnson. 

It's clear that Leo intended to murder Shelly when when he tied her up and set the mill on fire, and I have to wonder- would Shelly's death elicit as much mourning and sympathy as Laura's? I doubt it. Everyone in town knew Laura, and everyone knew Shelly too, but in a different context. And that context is what makes the difference. Shelly is "white trash"- a girl from the Wrong Side Of Town who dropped out of high school to marry a truck driver and work as a waitress. It's clear from contextual evidence that the townspeople, even Sheriff Truman, knew that Leo was beating Shelly (and probably raping her too) but no one did anything about it, not even Bobby, who is supposed to care about her. Nobody even offered her a place to stay.

I guess it makes sense for the sake of the narrative, but my heart goes out to Shelly. She's a sweet, adorable girl with a loving heart who makes great pies. She deserves just as much concern and sympathy as any other abuse victim, but she will never get it, because of her class status. I think that's often the way of life though.

I don't mean to lessen Laura's suffering or say that Shelly deserves more sympathy than her, because Twin Peaks is largely a series about the different forms abuse may take and the way it affects all kinds of women (Laura, Shelly, Audrey, Josie, and even Norma to an extent). It's about how nobody deserves abuse no matter if they're a "Bad Girl" or a "Good Girl". I just wish that people paid more attention to this aspect of the show and Shelly's storyline when discussing the themes present in Twin Peaks. 

10 Things Only North American Kids of British Parents Understand

1. The confusion you felt when your friends' parents' record collections didn't have any Cilla Black, Simply Red, or James Last.
2. At school when said your favourite food was mince and tatties, cheese toasties, or bacon butties, and nobody understood.
3. How aghast you felt about the Scholastic versions of the Harry Potter books.
4. Arguing with your teacher about the proper spelling of "omelette".
5. Nobody wanted to share your Enid Blyton books.
6. When people tried to imitate your parents' accents and sounded nothing like what they actually spoke.
7. When your relatives overseas sent you videotapes and they wouldn't play.
8. Watching The Snowman instead of The Grinch every Christmas.
9. Lying to your playmates that you knew the Spice Girls personally due to your British Connections. 
10. When your parents would scold you for using the North American term for something rather than the British term.

Take Your Daughters to See Maleficent

With the release and resounding success of Maleficent, Disney has proved two things: one, that there is a market for big-budget fantasy films with overwhelmingly female casts; and two, that a film can be progressive and feminist without losing its glitz, excitement, and appeal to little girls.

I went to see Maleficent last night expecting to watch a well-meaning but ham-fisted take on a familiar story, and instead, I saw a powerful film about female strength, platonic love, and moral ambiguity. I won't bother to rehash the plot of the film- rather, I'd like to talk about the way women are represented in it and how it surpassed so many of my expectations and made me cry, like, five times.

Maleficent is a truly unique film in the sense that it is a by-the-numbers fantasy blockbuster and yet it also breaks every unspoken rule Hollywood has about the way women, particularly women protagonists, are represented in mainstream film. Undoubtedly this has much to do with the fact that the screenwriter is a woman and that Angelina Jolie herself served as an executive producer. Jolie's role as producer as well as her considerable star power (she is one of the most, if not the most, bankable actresses in Hollywood today) ensured that she had full control over the way her character was represented onscreen.

And that's what I found so very interesting about this film: Maleficent, as you know, was a straight-up villain in the original Disney film, perhaps their best-known villain ever. Although she was given an incredible backstory in Jolie's Maleficent, she wasn't turned into a pure-hearted, misunderstood, sweet character. She remained morally ambiguous, both good and evil, altruistic but selfish, caring and yet still terrifying. She is allowed the complexity and intensity that is normally only given to male superhero characters like Batman or the Transformers protagonists.

Maleficent experiences duplicity and betrayal (in the form of an extremely powerful rape allegory) as well as persecution and pariahdom, yet the film does not make her into a one-dimensional victim. She is powerful, vengeful, and angry, rightfully so, and carries out her revenge in a theatrical, fantastical, and selfish manner: cursing the daughter of the man who mutilated her (the mutilation, in this case, is quite clearly a metaphor for sexual assault.) Like many revenge flicks starring male protagonists, the film does not exonerate or vilify Maleficent, instead, it simply tells us her story fairly and even-handedly.

Maleficent avoids falling into many of the classic Disney cliches: noticeably absent from the film are a male hero-figure, a wedding as a happy ending, or a scary, evil female villain acting as a foil for a sweet and beautiful pure-hearted heroine. Instead, it is a film about women finding strength from themselves and from each other, about fighting one's own battles, and standing up for oneself despite the threat of persecution and hatred.

How great would it be, if, this Halloween, we saw little girls dressed not as Barbies or brides but as a powerful figure like Maleficent? Little girls (and big girls, and women) should see this movie just as their brothers saw Christopher Nolan's Batman trilogy. They need a protagonist they can identify with, one who is not a tired, reheated cliche but an exciting, captivating, and relatable heroine.

Mental Illness Narratives in Media

As someone who is both mentally ill and a vociferous consumer of popular media, it's rare for me to see a movie or TV show that accurately reflects the struggles an individual deals with when dealing with mental illness. There have been some novels written by authors who also suffer from mental illness, but by and large I have found that most media representation of the mentally ill is inaccurate, unsympathetic, and sometimes downright harmful.

Classic literature has a long history of authors writing frankly about their mental illness, even if it was in antiquated terms: Ernest Hemingway, Virginia Woolf, Sylvia Plath. But since film and television are far less personal mediums than literature, they tend to use mental illness as a plot device or an interesting character trait rather than offering a first-person account of mental illness. This is dangerous for several reasons. The first being that film and television are two of the most accessible forms of popular media, and are available to people who may not be blessed with the education level or resources needed to access classic literature and/or academic writing. This means that for many people, their entire understanding of mental illness is based on what they've seen in films and on television. Those who suffer from mental illness but haven't been diagnosed may know that there is something wrong with them, but struggle to identify with the often outrageous and outlandish depictions of mentally ill people that they've seen, and so remain undiagnosed and unable to seek help. Those who do not suffer from mental illness may have seen Jeremy Sisto as Billy Chenowith on Six Feet Under or Glenn Close as Alex Forrest in Fatal Attraction and assume that these are accurate depictions of bipolar disorder, and become fearful of schizophrenic or borderline people. Or it may not be as bad as that: maybe they've seen Silver Linings Playbook and think they understand bipolar disorder, think that their bipolar friend's problems can be solved if they just set them up with some young hottie who likes to dance. Oh, if only it were that easy! The entire psychiatric community would be out of work.

As someone who suffers from depression and is a recovering bulimic, I find it difficult to relate with the characters in film and television who are explicitly stated to be mentally ill and are supposed to represent people like me. To begin with, protagonists who are canonically defined as "depressed" are almost always white men, and usually white straight men. I think that's probably because a mentally ill character is already an "other", so the writer may try to make them as "normal" as possible in every other aspect of their characterization. Unless, of course, they're a villain, in which case they're also often coded as queer, because dangerous craziness and queerness are so often intertwined in popular media! Never mind that queer people are more likely to be depressed due to the oppression and discrimination they face every day- most Crazy Queer Villains are depicted as madmen and madwomen, driven to homicidal insanity by their sexual perversions. This is a trope that was once extremely prevalent and seen everywhere from psychodramas and thrillers to animated children's movies (think: Professor Ratigan from The Great Mouse Detective, coded "sissy" and violently insane). It is slowly falling out of favour, but it can still be found in popular procedural crime shows like CSI and Criminal Minds.

Even when characters aren't portrayed as villains, they are often written and acted very stereotypically and one-dimensionally, as both the writers and the actors choose to base their interpretation of a mentally ill character on a set of symptoms, rather than portraying their character as a fully-realized person with interests and quirks that exist outside of and irrelative of their mental illness. Personally, I've done a lot of research into the way eating disorders are portrayed in media aimed at teenagers, and I've found that the characters are almost always stereotypical Type-A "Best Little Girl In the World" overachievers. I'm thinking here of endless Young Adult novels, a recent storyline on Glee, and that time on Lizzie McGuire that Miranda stopped eating for one episode but was cured after a pep-talk with her friends. In most teen media in fact, eating disorders are portrayed as a confidence issue that can be cured easily (I could wrte another entire post on how this erases the very real struggles of eating disordered people, who are overwhelmingly girls and women). To my mind, the most well-rounded and developed character with an eating disorder storyline to date has been Cassie Ainsworth from the British teen drama Skins. She has anorexia, and it is a continual struggle for her, but she has character traits that are not related to or attributed to anorexia, a love interest, and is generally quite sympathetic and likeable. When I was at my worst suffering from my own eating disorder, my best friend watched Cassie's episode of Skins and said it helped her to understand me better.

And that's the thing about proper representation: it doesn't have to get in the way of a good story. Cassie's storyline is engaging and interesting even to people who don't have anorexia or bulimia. It's entertaining, but not damaging. The same can be said for the many mentally ill characters on Mad Men (though I'm still waiting to see how Ginsberg's schizophrenia storyline plays out).

All I want is to see people like me onscreen. People who aren't dangerous, or hopeless, or inhuman... just... whole. Because mentally ill people like me aren't broken or incomplete or irreparable, we just want to be understood.

"Young Americans" is the most cynical song of the '70s

David Bowie has long been described by the media as a chameleon of sorts, someone who picks up on social and cultural trends, takes them to their logical extreme, and casts them aside soon after, on to the next thing. While I agree that Bowie is certainly always in tune with  the cultural zeitgeist, I disagree with the idea that his many personas represent a wish to emulate the zeitgeist- rather, I'd argue, his many different public identities come from an intent to parody and comment on whatever trend du jour he happened to find worthy of discussion.

Now Bowie is well known for his gender bending which was obviously intended as  his commentary on the constructed social structures placed around male and female identities. But what I think is rarely discussed is his brilliant commentary on race, colonialism and cultural theft.  this was something explored throughout the "plastic soul" era of his career and most explicitly on Young Americans, both the song and album.

As a Brit who was heavily influenced by American culture, Bowie wrote "Young Americans" as an expression of his distaste with the racial climate in the USA at the time. Stylistically, the song is an up-tempo number in black American soul/R&B style but unlike his contemporaries, Bowie didn't just borrow the musical style for aesthetic purposes. It's intended as a reflection on the cultural theft that he talks about in the song. Quite clever really as at first listen it sounds like another blue-eyed soul number, but the lyrics belie a criticism of "blue-eyed soul" and the willingness of white people to steal from and exploit black culture while still harbouring racist attitudes.

Have you been the un-American?

Just you and your idol sing falsetto

'bout Leather, leather everywhere, and

Not a myth left from the ghetto

Well, well, well, would you carry a razor

In case, just in case of depression?

Sit on your hands on a bus of survivors

Blushing at all the afro-Sheeners

These lyrics express Bowie's feelings about the cultural climate of the 1970s in regards to race relations, and basically what he's saying here is that white (especially male) Americans consider themselves the "default" American, and, as it has been said before "everyone else gets a hypen". Now Bowie is a white male and I am a white female so I don't want to imply that either he or I are the foremost experts on race relations. What I mean to say is that the song is intended as a message to Bowie's white contemporaries. Black music was (and still is!) being imitated by white singers and white bands who were happy to take the fun parts of black culture but refused to engage in any political discourse about race relations or acknowledge the disparity between the recognition they got and the recognition black artists got. "Not a myth left from the ghetto" may be referencing the fact that black culture and black stories were mined by white people for artistic inspiration until we (white people) saw the well as being run dry. Not a myth left because we stole everything.

Performing on the Dick Cavett Show, December 1974

Black music and black fashion are things that we white people are happy to steal but still see as threatening in their original form, so they have to be watered down. Bowie is asking his audience why they are happy to take from black culture without ever really knowing the black experience.  He asks his audience, "You may enjoy the music, but do you understand where it comes from culturally and emotionally?"  At this point I have to state: no. I do not understand the experience because I have never lived it. I'm just a white lady from rural Canada and I'm in no way attempting to speak for black people with my commentary on this song. I think it's telling though that most of the musicians featured on this song are black, including of course Luther Vandross, who played a big part in arranging the song. Bowie, a white man, is singing it, and I think it's very sneaky how he gets his message across, because he knows that many of his listeners will only listen to funk/soul/R&B music if it's played by a white man like him, so he emulates the style perfectly but makes his lyrics very cynical and accusatory, so that  the listeners are initially hooked by the melody and style, get into the song, and then somewhere around the middle, realize that the very song they are in enjoying is decrying people like them (people like us, rather).

I think there's also some interesting commentary here on gender, too: the lyric "ain't there a woman I can sock on the jaw" references domestic violence obviously, but it's not an autobiographical lyric, it's a narrative "voice" Bowie uses to illustrate the hypocrisy of the ~enlightened~ '70s man. He loves the fact that the sexual revolution has freed women to engage in no-strings-attached sex, but he is angry at the fact that the women's lib movement has offered them other sorts of autonomy. He longs for an old-fashioned woman he could own and abuse rather than the Modern Woman who asks that a man be accountable for his actions.  

Basically, this song is about the hypocrisy of the 1970s youth: pretending to be so much more open-minded than their predecessors, but still harbouring racist and sexist ideals, just expressing them in a different way, perhaps a more insidious way.

That being said, although Bowie's a brilliant songwriter, the song shouldn't be taken as the last word on race relations: he is after all, still a white man from Britain. I do think though that we white people can learn something from it since we still persist in copying and stealing from black culture. The fact that this song is performed in a funk/soul style is the cleverest thing about it as it allows the narrator (Bowie) to address the issue from within the cultural arena in which it exists. Bowie's always played with personas, image and identity, and although I think he feels free to adopt personas that are based on some aspect of his personality, "Young Americans" is his protest against those who base their image or identity or sound or look on something that is not a part of their life and never will be, something that they will never know or understand. 

Mad Men, or, "Daddy Issues: The TV Show"

So the theme of paternal abandonment continues, both in my life and on Sunday's episode of Mad Men! But, as per the theme of this blog, I'm going to stick to covering Mad Men, with this entry paying particular focus on the interaction between Roger Sterling and his daughter Margaret.

Margaret is an interesting character in that the events of her life are rarely shown through her perspective on the show. Instead they are mostly relayed to us by Roger through conversations he has with other characters. In an early episode, Roger bitches to Joan about the fact that Margaret seems to have no motivations in life, only having dated two boys (one who committed suicide). You'd think that even someone like Roger would be able to extend sympathy to Margaret for dealing with a tragedy like that, but the event is reduced to pillow talk between him and Joan (Joan, lovely Joan, defends Margaret, saying that Roger is too hard on him). In another episode, Margaret's possible eating disorder is hinted at as Roger jokes that Mona stopped cooking after Margaret stopped eating.

And of course, there is Margaret's wedding, the events of which are particularly contentious for father and daughter as Roger is hell-bent on taking his new, much younger wife Jane to the wedding, while Margaret is against this. It's not a huge leap to assume that Margaret is viciously (and rightfully) jealous of Jane for her relationship with Roger. After all, Jane is not much older than Margaret herself.

So as we can see Roger and Margaret have quite the strained relationship, largely due to Roger's failure to provide for Margaret emotionally and to acknowledge her humanity as a daughter. I think this has much to do with Roger's issues with women: he tends to categorize his relationships with women as either sexual and passionate or cordial and distant. For instance, he doesn't appear to have much regard for Peggy as a friend or colleague despite seemingly respecting her work.

Roger doesn't know quite what do do with Margaret, a daughter, because he never wanted a daughter. A son, he could commiserate with and raise in his own image, but with Margaret he's faced with a dilemma: does raise her to be used by men the way he uses women, or does he warn her against such men, which would require some reflection on his part and admittance to misdeeds? The answer that he comes to, of course, is neither. He chooses to give up on parenting Margaret entirely.

Which brings us then to the events of The Monolith, where we learn that Margaret has engaged in her own form of parental abandonment: leaving her toddler behind as she chooses to follow a group of hippies to live on a commune. Both Roger and Mona are shocked and make it their mission to set Margaret straight, travelling to the commune to shake some sense into her, as it were. It doesn't work, obviously, because who would want to leave a life of free love and drugs to go back to New York City with their parents, to raise a child just the same way as their parents did (and have the child grow up to be as miserable and dissatisfied as them?).

It is then we see Roger trying to take on the Cool Dad role: Oh sure I'll have a look around! Yeah, I wanna here all about your cool new life! Far too late to make a difference, of course. And as the day wears on, the similarities between Margaret and the hippie girl that Roger has been sleeping with over the course of the season become too apparent for Roger, and he's faced with the harsh reality of what he's done to the women in his relationships (the "she's somebody's daughter!" dilemma) and what a shitty human being he is towards women. His breaking point comes when Margaret sneaks off from the barn where she is supposed to be sharing a tender moment with her father, to have sex with another one of the hippies, which hits way too close to home for serial womanizer Roger.

Roger doesn't want Margaret to continue the cycle of parental abandonment that he has been perpetuating, and so he flips his shit, attempts to drag her out of there, and lays a guilt trip on her about her responsibilities as a mother. Then, Margaret, in what I can only say is one of the best fictional daughter-to-father fights I've ever heard, truly rips into Roger, handing his ass to him about his own parental abandonment and all-around shitty behaviour as a father.

Roger mocks Margaret (Marigold) about her life in the commune, telling her she's got to step up and face reality, be a mother and stop living for a life of hedonistic pleasure.... but isn't that exactly what Roger did for Margaret's entire childhood? Boozing it up, banging secretaries, spending loads of money and basically doing whatever he wanted? Margaret is clearly still extremely bitter over what she feels was a shitty childhood and she unloads it all on her father, so viciously and so painfully: "How did you feel when you went away to work, Daddy? Your conscience must have been eating you alive. Calling your secretary from a hotel at lunch to pick out a birthday present for me.... it's not that hard, Daddy, I'll be fine."

Roger walks away in his muddied suit, defeated.

The events of Roger's trip to the commune echo Don's own relationship with Sally and perhaps serve as a warning of sorts as to what will happen if Don doesn't get his shit together and be a proper parent. What pains me so much though is that this episode is set in 1969 and there are still girls and women out there with the same complaints about their fathers: they never cared, they were never there, they never had any emotional connection. People like to say that about Mad Men: "oh, weren't things terrible back then?",  they say, but things are still pretty terrible, just not as explicitly. When will they get better? When men like Roger and Don everywhere start getting their damn shit together.

On "Frasier", Accents, and Class Distinctions

In a discussion about class, regional accents, and the way they are presented on television (especially American television)  the most pertinent example, for me anyway, would be Frasier Crane of Cheers and later his eponymous sitcom Frasier.

Frasier Crane is initially introduced in Cheers as a love interest to Diane. He is a haughty, uptight, somewhat pretentious psychiatrist intended as a foil to Sam's 'jus-plain-folks' working-class persona. He was pompous, overbearing, and full of himself, and was not the most popular character on Cheers. As Kelsey Grammar has frequently mentioned, he was often approached during his run on Cheers by fans of the show who would ask "are you that pin dick that plays Frasier on Cheers"? Frasier's Mid-Atlantic accent is supposed to indicate that he is a man of 'good breeding', so to speak, making him removed from his friends at the bar, who are all regular working stiffs from families of working stiffs.

While the Frasier character began life as a typical unflattering upper-middle class stereotype (over-educated, boring, coded feminine, and a distinct clipped and affected upper-middle class neutral American accent) the transition from Cheers to Frasier allowed the audience to see a different side to Frasier following his divorce from his equally chilly and uptight wife Lilith. Namely, the introduction of Frasier's father Martin, a retired cop. While Frasier claimed to be the orphan son of a scientist father in Cheers, it is revealed that he in fact has distinctly working-class origins, as Martin has nothing of Frasier's mannerisms, nor anything close to his accent. (As an interesting note, John Mahoney, who plays Martin Crane, is a British expat who was raised in Blackpool by a family of Mancunians.).

As an audience, we come to learn that Frasier has adopted his upper-middle class persona and his pompous attitude as a defense mechanism against the bullying he endured as a child and as a sort of rebellion against his cop father. He chose to remove himself from his father as much as possible, in order to escape his roots and be better accepted in the world of academia and psychiatry. However,  the living situation that is thrust upon him (taking his father in after an injury reduces Martin's mobility) forces him to accept the reality of his origins. The humour of the show often derives from the conflict that arises between Frasier and Niles and their attempts to be taken more seriously in their fields, alongside their father's lack of pretension and his propensity to foil their social-climbing schemes.

Then we throw Daphne Moon in the mix, who is identifiably working-class as she has a thick pseudo- Manchester accent and often speaks of her formative years in England in a less-than-pretentious way. Daphne and Martin bond over their working-class backgrounds, while Frasier often scoffs at Daphne's tales of childhood or claims of psychic abilities. Niles' infatuation and eventual relationship with Daphne could perhaps be attributed to a desire to re-claim his working-class identity or a way of reconciling what he may view as abandonment of his father and his father's way of life.

Regardless of motivations, the Niles/Daphne relationship represents a destruction of class boundaries, as Daphne is not only identifiably working-class in her accents and mannerisms, but also her profession, because as Martin's physical therapist she could generally be regarded as "the help". For Niles to fall in love with a woman like Daphne requires an acknowledgement of these class boundaries and also an outright rejection of the class distinctions that he has spent his adult life mimicking and affecting. The same can be said for Daphne, as her "Manchester" accent is slightly mangled and Jane Leeves has said that this was intentional on her part to indicate that Daphne has spent quite some time in the States and has probably intentionally taken on a bit of an American twang in order to fit in with her peers in the USA.

It's not to say that Frasier is a perfect representation of class distinctions or that it breaks down any boundaries, as a 30-minute American sitcom. Certainly, any Brit or anyone with British ties couldn't help but laugh at the fact all of Daphne's brothers have wildly differing regional accents. All in all though, I think anyone from a working-class background who has ever struggled with their working-class identity and being accepted in a field that is not friendly to working-class people can relate.

"Hi, I'm Daria. Go to Hell."

Oh, Daria. There's so much to be said about this show that has, inevitably, already been discussed by legions of nerds and/or hipster ladies before me. In accordance with that fact, I hope that my thoughts on the series will offer a fresher perspective than what has already been said.

First of all, a little background, because I know you're just dying to hear the details of my childhood media consuming habits: Daria premiered in 1996, when I was six years old, ostensibly too young for the series. I don't remember exactly when I started watching the show, but it was sometime after the first few seasons had already aired, but not before the series had ended, so sometime in the late nineties. My parents were extremely strict about the television that my sister and I were allowed to watch, and we were banned from watching most mainstream cartoons. The two exceptions were The Simpsons (because it was "intellectual and satirical") and Daria, because it featured a female lead who was intelligent, interesting, and who refused to buy into shallow ideals of beauty and relationships. What can I say, my parents were feminists, and I'm lucky that they were.

As a nerdy brunette with glasses, a dysfunctional family, and a pretty, popular sister, I heavily identified with Daria at the time. I felt I was surrounded by idiots and used my wit and intelligence as a defense mechanism against my peers' attacks on what I was supposedly lacking (beauty and popularity, naturally). To have someone like her to look up to was comforting at the time, but as an adult re-watching the series, I have to question whether Daria is an intentionally flawed heroine or simply a "nerdy" version of the mean bitchy cheerleader trope.

Something that distinguishes Daria from most other teen series with an "outcast"-type protagonist is the fact that the head cheerleader and football captain are not antagonists in the least.

Brittany and Kevin (truly prophetic name choices there, I might add) may be utter dunces, but they're not mean or unpleasant. They are always friendly to Daria and Jane, and Brittany even does her best to do poor unpopular Daria a favour by inviting her to a house party in one of the series' first episodes. Daria and Jane, by contrast, kind of look like total assholes, as they mock Brittany and Kevin constantly, sometimes to their faces, when all the couple try to do is be friendly and sweet.

It's easy to understand why Daria and Jane behave this way, of course, because they're teenagers who have not developed fully evolved critical thinking skills, and as intelligent as they may be, they don't have the maturity to see that they would get along in high school much easier if they just accepted the friendship of the "popular kids", since it is genuinely offered without expectations.

If the pair have any true antagonists at school, it's probably Sandi and the other members of the Fashion Club.

Quinn and Stacy are less antagonistic than Sandi and Tiffani, but since they encourage the other girls' behaviour and enable their bullying, I'm going to say they come close. What's ironic about the Fashion Club though is that they are just as rude and snobby as Daria and Jane, albiet in a very different way. Daria and Jane are unpleasant because they feel disenfranchised and unnoticed in the "girl culture" of the '90s, and the fashion club are unpleasant because they feel intimidated by their more intelligent peers with the looming threat of college on the horizon.

Both groups of kids have their own issues to deal with, and I think the series explores this idea as Quinn grows emotionally throughout the run of the series, choosing to expand her horizons beyond sartorial choices, while Daria eventually gains some confidence and manages to develop enough self-actualization to participate in a real relationship with a human male.

In that sense, I think Daria is like The Breakfast Club in that it explores the hidden depths of every high school stereotype, from Brittany the Bimbo to Daria the Brain, to Sandi the Bitch and Jodie the Token Minority (there's been great stuff written about her, which as a white woman I don't feel qualified to regurgitate). 

So: is Daria an appropriate heroine for nerdy teenage girls? Someone they should emulate? It's hard to say. On the one hand I would answer no because she's deeply insecure and takes that out on other people. On the other hand, I think she experiences significant growth throughout the length of the series, and perhaps she could serve as an example of moving on from one's bitterness and self-hatred. In any case, I think the series itself is something that disenfranchised teenagers will always take comfort in, because it reassures them that there are other kids out there like them, and perhaps it will give them hope that they too can move on from a stifling environment to become fulfilled and feel appreciated, like Daria seemed to be in her last appearance, the TV movie Is It College Yet?. 

On Rita Leeds and Arrested Development

Something that has always been a source of debate among Arrested Development fans is the Rita storyline and the question of whether it not it is disrespectful to mentally disabled people. Speaking strictly as someone who loves the show and has only dabbled in the fandom, I cannot say whether or not anyone from the disabled community has spoken on the storyline and whether or not is offensive. Based only on my observations as a viewer, though, I have always felt that the way the story was written was respectful to Rita specifically as a character. The true humour of the arc came not from mocking Rita's disability, but rather from highlighting what awful people the Bluths are in regards to their treatment of her.

Michael, of course, is horribly selfish from the beginning in his relationship with Rita, as he initially only approaches her in order to get her assistance in helping him view some classified documents. He becomes enchanted with Rita, but only because of her beauty, whimsical nature, and willingness to listen to him pratter on about his ridiculous problems. He knows almost nothing about Rita aside from the fact that she's British and lives with her uncle. If he had even bothered in the slightest to ask her about her life, he would have learned (as she would have offered the information gladly) that she is mega rich and mentally disabled. 

Secondly, the storyline also serves to highlight how truly awful the other Bluths are as well, as they see nothing wrong with marrying Michael off to a woman he knows absolutely nothing about (and who is terribly unsuited to him, his lifestyle, and family) because they want her family money.

I'd say that particular storyline is in a sense, part of the essence of Arrested Development, as it asks us to follow the lives of an extremely unlikeable family,  and tricks us into sympathizing with them until they do something so reprehensible that we are startled out of our comfort zone and forced to acknowledge the reality of the Bluths, and to recognize that they are people who, if we were watching their storyline unfold in real-life on the news, we would be cheering for their destruction and dissolution.

"My Father Has Never Given Me Anything..."

(image credit)

Something I think about a lot as I re-watch the last season of Mad Men is Sally Draper's relationship with her parents. Up until she caught her father fucking Lindsey Weir in Elizabeth Taylor drag, she idolized him and saw him as the the Good Parent to Betty's Bad Parent. That's not to say that Betty isn't a Bad Parent, but isn't Don pretty terrible as a father too? Ditching his kids so he could move in with his new wife to a chic Manhattan apartment? Leaving them alone for the night without any supervision whatsoever? Sally doesn't see that, though, because she isn't around Don enough to realize what an asshole he truly is. She is around enough to bear the full brunt of Betty's anger and frustrations, though, and to take her abuse head-on. That's the thing, really. They're both horribly abusive parents, but Betty's abuse is just more obvious, especially to a child who grew up in a time when all TV moms were nurturing and kind and happy. It's easier to put Don's abandonment out of her mind, but Sally has to live with Betty's abuse every damn say.

It makes me wonder if children, and society in general, think of abusive mothers as much worse than absentee or neglectful fathers simply because mothers are not 'supposed' to have character flaws like the coldness, anger, and resentment that Betty has.

It's particularly sad, though, when a mother is abusive towards a daughter, because we think that as a woman, she should know how hard it is to constantly feel as if you are not good enough, and that she would not be so heartless to inflict that on a child. We expect heartlessness from men, so when a father abandons his children, it's obviously shitty but not at all surprising because men are generally pretty scummy or can turn scummy at a moment's notice.

My parents share some similarities to the Drapers, and it's difficult for me to reconcile my sympathy for Betty with my deep and abiding empathy for Sally. It's maybe more difficult to have a mother like Betty than it is to have a father like Don, because as a young woman growing up you have no understanding of what a healthy female friendship or companionship dynamic should feel like. We all joke about the 'daddy issues' that arise from paternal abandonment; but if a young woman doesn't know how to make friends that will set her straight and give her guidance in her relationships with men, what does she have?

It's also easier for people to understand or believe paternal abandonment from an outside perspective if they haven't experienced it. Based on personal experience, I have found that my friends and acquaintances don't know how to respond to and often don't even believe admissions of maternal abuse, be it emotional or physical.

Victims of abandonment or abuse should perhaps stop asking ourselves "who fucked me up the most, mom or dad", and rather ask ourselves "how fucked up am I, exactly, and how can I avoid fucking up my kids in the same way?". Easier said than done, of course, especially when paternal abandonment can have consequences that are not as obvious as abuse.

I wish there was an easier answer for all of this, but there isn't. I guess this is why therapists will always be able to find work.

On being a member of the "Video Generation"

I was born in 1990,  which means that I grew up in a time when videotapes were the norm when it came to distributing movies, TV shows or cartoons. My family had a VCR, a stack of Disney tapes,  and because we didn't have cable and my mother didn't like for us to watch the violent cartoons of the day, my sister and I took to watching the same movies (The Little Mermaid, The Great Mouse Detective, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, etc) over and over and over again.

Recently it struck me that Millenials were really the first generation to be able to do that (watch movies over and over and over at home). Before the advent of commercial distribution of videocassettes, a child would get to watch a movie in theatres upon its original release (several times if they were lucky) and wouldn't get to see it again until it was revived in theatres of broadcast on television. But my generation, we had our favourite movies at our fingertips, and we could watch them every day, maybe even twice a day, from the comfort of our own homes. We didn't get the "first movie experience" that the kids who came before us did.

It makes me wonder if this has had any bearing on the way we consume our media, art, and entertainment. I don't mean to say that watching movies from home (and watching them repeatedly) is any better or worse than seeing them in theatres, but I do think that repeated viewings of a particular movie during a child's formative years can have an impressive impact. If nothing else, it becomes a deeply personal memory to the child, because they've experienced the movie in their own home, in a familiar surrounding with the freedom to get up and sing along or act out the movie as they're watching it. A child who has the opportunity to watch The Little Mermaid every day (like I did as a little girl) is likely to develop a very strong attachment to the film. The "message" of the film will be ingrained in her mind just as firmly as the lyrics of "Under the Sea."

Certainly there are varying degrees of interest and attachment for each child, but I have definitely noticed that people my age and around it are all incredibly nostalgic for their favourite childhood movies in a way people of my mother's generation (and even the generation before her) are not. I think that affects the way we consume media today: vociferously consuming media, keeping meticulously up-to-date on our favourite TV shows, and engaging in what I like to call "Submersive Media Therapy" (a fancy term for holing oneself up binge-watching movies and TV via DVDs, Netflix or internet streaming sites).

It's funny that we're so often derided for consuming media in this way when our parents the Boomers (who were the first generation to grow up with television as an ever-present force in their everyday home lives) saw no problem in plunking us down with a copy of our favourite movie and allowing us to press rewind and play it yet another time.

Past, Present, and Future

I feel like there's this need people have, sometimes, to compare their favourite to something classic and great that came before it in order to give it credibility. For instance, I've gotten into this argument on Tumblr: people love to compare their favourite boy-band of the day to the Beatles. I see a lot of people doing this with One Direction recently, and no shade intended towards One Direction fans, but people did that with the Bay City Rollers and the Backstreet Boys and *NSYNC and the Jonas Brothers. None of those bands have gotten a Grammy tribute recently, as far as I am aware. 

That's not to say that I think some comparisons aren't worth making. Personally, I think One Direction is easily comparable to The Monkees, in the sense that they are a genuinely talented group of young men who were created to be famous and achieved initial success through the medium of television. Much like the Monkees they're prefabricated and were intended to elicit screams and adoration from young female fans; whereas with the Beatles it just kind of happened and they went with it. 

Anyway, that's not really the point. I guess what I'm trying to say here is that if you really love something- be it a band, TV show, movie or actor- you should talk about its good points and what makes it special on its own and not compare it to something that came before it because they share some small similarities. 

Plus, I just think it's silly to expect bands and singers and actors of today to have career trajectories anywhere near the way acts of the twentieth century experienced. How can any band follow the Beatles' success and become as big as them if they are constantly looking towards them as the pinnacle of rock 'n' roll? When the Beatles started out, rock was a relatively new genre of music there were no big groups that they had to live up to. There was Elvis, of course, but he was American, a solo act, and his career and image had changed significantly by the time they became famous anyway.

To diverge from the Beatles/One Direction example for a moment, let's talk about Beyonce. I remember when she first left Destiny's Child and started off on her own solo act. She was frequently compared to Diana Ross, because her career path at that point superficially resembled Ross' own. She had just left a very famous R&B/pop trio to embark on a solo career, with a significantly sexed-up image and a dancier sound that what she had previously recorded.

Superficially yes, that's similar to what Diana Ross did, but unlike Diana Ross Beyonce has proven herself to be not only a singer, but a songwriter, producer, and entrepreneur, and I would argue that her music holds more significance to her respective generation than Ross' solo output ever did. To compare Beyonce to Diana Ross does her a disservice because it assumes that all the great pop music success stories have already been written, and that modern acts are simply reprising them for another generation.

Anyway, where was I going with this? I guess I just think it's pointless to try and compare young upstart talents with "legendary" acts. Why compare Amy Winehouse with any other members of the "27 Club"? Why compare Britney to Madonna? (I have always found the Britney/Madonna comparison particularly egregious- though Madonna's obviously an influence on Britney, Britney's identity and image has nuance and vulnerability that Madonna never did). 

All these modern acts may be influenced by the people that came before them, but they will never truly recreate their predecessors, nor should they be expected to: they have their own paths to follow.

An Open Letter to the Stuebenville Rape Victim

Dear sweet, brave, strong girl,

I don't know if you will ever read this letter, because based on the hateful, disgusting things that people have been posting online, I wouldn't blame you if you would want to avoid the internet forever. But just in case you're out there, there are some things you should know.

You are a hero. You had the courage to stand up for yourself, defend yourself, and speak out even when there were so many people against you. Because of you, those two disgusting scumbags are being punished, and you should be proud. You did what you felt was right for you.

You did nothing wrong. Young people drink. Young people party. Sometimes we have too much and pass out. But that never, ever gives anyone a right to assault someone who's drunk or unconscious. Your bravery has opened up a discussion about rape that will likely encourage victims to acknowledge their assaults, and also reduce the amount of assaults committed.

You don't owe anything to anyone. Sweet girl, I wish I could give you a giant hug and feed you lots of tasty junk food while we sat on the couch and watched stupid comedies. I wish I could give you something that could help you to heal. I know you're probably heartbroken, desolate, depressed, scared, and anxious. I know that you're probably having panic attacks and crying yourself to sleep at night. You are perfectly entitled to feel that way and to do whatever it is you need to do that will allow you to heal. I just want you to know that there are millions of girls and women all over the world who believe in you, support you, and want to see you become the best that you can be.

You're an amazing, beautiful, incredible person, and you're so much more than what happened to you. Those worthless, degenerate pigs who hurt you are in for a world of pain. They made the decision to hurt you, and they deserve every nasty thing that is coming their way. But you... you have the opportunity now to heal. It may take a while, and no one is telling you that you have to get over it immediately. Take as long as you want and do whatever you need. In the end, you are the one who has triumphed, and you need to know that. You have an incredible amount of strength inside of you to put those disgusting scumbags away, and now you can use that strength to become even more powerful.

You are not alone. There are millions of women and girls just like you who understand what you've been through. We're all here for you and we want you to know that we love you. We want to thank you for your bravery, your maturity, and your determination. We will fight for you.

There is a Little Bit of Liza in All of Us

Liza photographed by Andy Warhol in 1977.

Well, perhaps not all of us. Some of you soulless bastards (by which I mean straight men) could never come close to reaching the fabulousity and adorableness of Ms. Minnelli. However, I think we could all learn a thing or two from her, both in her personal life and her career path. Has she made some mistakes? Yes, and his name was David Gest. But, like any strong, successful woman, Liza has learned from her mistakes, and her spotlight still shines bright today, 50 years since she first stepped into the spotlight.

With Judy Garland for a mother and director Vincente Minnelli for a father, it's not surprising that Liza went into the entertainment business. What is surprising, though, is how adeptly she managed to take control of her own career and be recognized on her own terms. Instead of riding on the coattails of her famous parents, she chose to forge her own path. That's not to say that Liza didn't benefit from her lineage, and neither did she shun the opportunities that were given to her because of who her mother was. It's just that she never tried to be another Judy Garland. She was just Liza Minnelli.

Her best known role is that of Sally Bowles in the 1972 film adaption of the successful Bob Fosse production Cabaret. In order to prepare for her role as Sally, Liza has stated that she studied famous dark-haired vixens of the period, such as Louise Glaum and Louise Brooks. She also did all her own hair and makeup for the film. I find this to be quite an inspired touch that adds to the realism of the character. As a struggling cabaret singer, Sally wouldn't have anyone to apply makeup for her, nor would she know how to apply it properly. In the film, she sports gaudy blue eyeshadow, exaggerated eyelashes, and bright red lipstick. She's pretty, of course, but also completely believable as a naive, overly enthusiastic amateur.
Furthermore, she instills a sense of likability and pathos in a character that is quite difficult to play. Sally, as she is written, may come off as something of a Manic Pixie Dream Girl (and an untalented one at that), but Liza plays her with both vulnerability and an awkward, slapdash sexuality that makes her more than just a vessel for a man's desires and search for inspiration.

The character, and Liza' s performance, have both become incredibly iconic, inspiring several tributes over the years, including my own Halloween costume in 2011. Liza won a Best Actress Academy Award for her performance in Cabaret, and in her acceptance speech she simply said, "Thank you for giving me this award".  That speech was an acknowledgement that she had received the Oscar not because she was well-connected in the business and not because the Academy wanted to pay tribute to her recently deceased mother (who died in 1969). She earned that Oscar on her own merits.

Liza's success in Cabaret was followed with another success, her live stage show, Liza With a Z, which I think should be required viewing for any aspiring young performer. Liza With a Z is remarkable because it showcases an iconic female performer at the top of her game who does everything on her own terms. The show is glitzy, glamourous, and celebrates Liza like the queen that she is, and at no time does she pander to the male gaze or engage in false modesty. She's Liza!

In the '70s she performed as Velma Kelly in the original Broadway run of Chicago, and she also appeared in and performed the title song for Martin Scorcese's 1977 film New York, New York.

Her most memorable role of recent years has been her turn as Lucille Austero on Arrested Development, a self-deprecating turn in which she plays a glamourous rich widower suffering from vertigo who still manages to seduce men more than half her age. She will be reprising this role in the upcoming renewed season of Arrested Development as well as in the feature film, to be released this year. As a fan, I look forward to seeing Liza up on the big screen again, and I know she will have something fabulous to wear to the premiere.

My Top Ten Favourite Simpsons Episodes

1. A Streetcar Named Marge

While this episode may not be everyone's first choice, I've always found it hilarious and touching, especially for an episode centered around Marge, who is usually the straight man of the show. As with most episodes that deal with Homer and Marge's marriage, it's rather bittersweet. I'm assuming that anyone reading this is familiar with the plot of any Classic Simpsons-era episode, so I'll refrain from summarizing the plot. However, I will say that the arc of this episode is a rare insight into Marge's sad little life and troubled, repressed psyche. Her life as a housewife is far from intellectually or artistically stimulating, and her idea of "branching out" is to audition for a hokey community theatre production. Homer is a complete asshole to her about it, and she channels her pent-up frustrations in her performance of Blanche DuBois. By the end of the episode, Homer has acknowledged that he's been neglectful of Marge's feelings. He doesn't promise to change, nor does he show any particular insight into her frustrations. It's quite sad, really. 

Aside from that, though, the writers manage to pull off an epically scathing parody of every shitty community theatre production ever, as well as musicals in general. The opening number of "Oh! Streetcar" is perhaps one of the greatest moments in the show's history. From the hilariously cutting lyrics to the needless exposition, to the giant Superdome prop that exists only to illustrate a single rhyming couplet, it's a masterpiece of parody. 

Also worth mentioning is the inspired B-plot involving Maggie which both parodies The Great Escape and skewers Ayn Rand. 

2. Last Exit to Springfield

Many have argued that "Last Exit to Springfield" is the greatest Simpsons episode ever, and I would be hard-pressed to disagree with them. In fact, I believe that if a Simpsons movie had been made in the 90s as originally planned, "Last Exit" would make the perfect feature film. I love this episode because it shows a side of Homer that is sorely lacking in recent episodes: his compassionate side and his love for his family. His motivation to lead the strike? His love for Lisa and his desire to see her get the best dental care possible.

What makes this episode truly great is its spot-on parodies of pop cultural motifs. Specifically, the spoof of "How the Grinch Stole Christmas", the "Yellow Submarine" dream sequence, and the ending, where everyone laughs collectively over a stupid pun (reminiscent of every lame '70s sitcom ever.)

3. Homer's Barbershop Quartet

As a Beatles fan, it's no wonder that this episode is among my very favourites. Of course, everyone knows that this episode is one big tribute to the Beatles and their relatively short rise and fall- but what really gets me is how nuanced the Beatles tributes are. There are, of course, easily-identifiable references to Abbey Road, "Revolution 9", and the merchandising boon that was Beatlemania. What makes this episode truly enjoyable for a Beatles aficionado is the subtle and obscure references to their career and personal lives.

"Wiggum forever, Barney never!" is a reference to a real chant from the Beatles' early days at the Cavern Club when they replaced their first drummer Pete Best with Ringo Starr. The fans chanted "Pete Best forever, Ringo never!", but as we all know, Ringo won over the Cavern Club crowd much in the same way that Barney won over the patrons of Moe's Tavern. 

The episode is nostalgic and warm without being overly fawning towards the Beatles, and manages to get a few jabs in here and there. Every time I watch it, I manage to find another hidden reference that the writers stuck in.

4. Cape Feare

Although it helps to be familiar with the film Cape Fear to get all of the jokes in this episode, it isn't necessary in order to enjoy it. I loved this episode as a kid long before I had seen the movie or had any idea what the show was referencing. Regardless, I believe "Cape Feare" to be some of the finest television ever broadcast. It's a fantastic piece of writing, animation, editing, and voice acting and an all-around gem.

What I really love about "Cape Feare" isn't the all-around plot so much as some of its excellent throwaway gags and one-liners. Every time I see Santa's Little Helper tied up at the dock, swimming around in a circle, I bust a gut laughing, and the "Homer Thompson" routine never, ever, gets old. Ditto for the "Sideshow Bob steps on rakes" scene, which is often cut in syndication, losing most of its appeal. This episode is perfectly paced and full of plenty of action and excitement. It's fast-moving, features the incredible voice talents of Kelsey Grammer (who, as time goes on, seems to resemble Sideshow Bob much more than Fraiser Crane, personality-wise), and, most incredibly of all,  includes an amazing and hilarious tribute to Gilbert and Sullivan- hardly typical fare for a primetime Fox comedy in the 1990s. I'm trying my absolute best not to just parrot my favourite lines from these episodes, but I JUST have to say- "BARTYOUWANNASEEMYNEWCHAINSAWANDHOCKEYMASK?"

5. Lisa's Wedding

Unsurprisingly, I'm quite a big Lisa fan. What can I say? For a little growing up in the '90s as a bookish outcast, she was a role model for me. She made me feel like I wasn't alone in the world. As a 22-year-old today, I still relate to her in almost every way, and this episode speaks volumes to me.

Lisa fell in love with Hugh because he represented to her, the intellectual elitism that she had been idealizing and chasing her entire life. He was charming, British, and respected her for her brains. And yet, he revealed his true colours when he refused to even humour poor Homer, who was, after all, doing his very best to welcome Hugh into the family. 

Love can be so incredibly painful, especially for people like Lisa and me, who grew up insecure and unsure of our place in the world. When someone comes along and assures you that you've been right all along, that you really are better than everyone else, it can be thrilling... for a while. After some time, you realize that as much as you disparage your roots, they still made you what you are today, and you can't turn your back on them.

I guess this is one of those episodes that I like more for the emotional resonance than the jokes and gags. Lisa episodes tend to strike a very melancholy chord with me, for although they suggest that Lisa will eventually find a better life beyond Evergreen Terrace, they also give the impression that she will always be an outsider and just a tad dissatisfied.

6. King-Size Homer

This is probably the only Homer-centric episode on the list. I don't want to seem as if I don't like Homer. He's a great character who manages to be sympathetic even when his motives (as in this particular episode) are rather selfish. I think this is probably because Homer, as a character, though he may be buffoonish and slightly ill-mannered, still has an intrinsic human characteristic that a great many of us share: the desire to be liked and accepted. In the hands of less skilled writers, "King-Size Homer" could turn into one long, cruel fat joke. Instead, it turns into a treatise on both acceptance of others and pride in oneself. The episode also includes some of my favourite jokes, including Homer's ineptitude with a home computer, and Ralph's classic, "I heard your dad went into a restaurant and ate everything in the restaurant and they had to close the restaurant." 

7. Lisa's Substitute

Another Lisa episode! And this one with Dustin Hoffman, one of my celebrity crushes (it's those Semitic good looks). As a Lisa fan, I find her episodes are most often the most emotionally poignant, and I enjoy the way the show explores her relationship with Homer. "Lisa's Substitute" is an episode about a schoolgirl crush (and I can certainly relate to that) but it is also an episode about a father and daughter struggling to relate to each other (I can relate to that too). 

While the show's writers often use Lisa as a mouthpiece to spout liberal rhetoric, I find her most compelling and effective when she acts like an eight-year-old girl. For although she has intellect far beyond her years, she also has the naiveté and enthusiasm of the young girl that she is. Her adorable crush on Mr. Bergstrom, her embarrassment over her father, and her eagerness to prove herself are all typical traits of a child her age. 

The episode ends on a bittersweet note, again with the suggestion that there is a better life for Lisa, but also again with the knowledge that she still has a long way to go. You know, the more I think about it the more I reckon I'll have to devote an entire post to Lisa as a character. She's so relatable and sympathetic to me. 

8. Rosebud

"Oooh, a head bag. Those are chock full of... heady goodness."

That quote is just one of many reasons to love "Rosebud".  Although the episode is ostensibly a parody of Orson Welles' classic Citizen Kane, like "Cape Feare", you needn't have watched the movie to enjoy the episode, because it's more than just a parody. Like Citizen Kane, it's a commentary on capitalism, ruthlessness, and the drive to succeed that makes us neglect the things in life that make us more happy than money ever could.

Mr. Burns is, at times, an over-the-top caricature of megalomaniac villains, so it's nice to see his human side once in a while, as in this episode. Although he's put Homer, the family, his employees, and the citizens of Springfield through some hellish bullshit, he still manages to evoke a tiny bit of sympathy in this episode. Perhaps because Mr. Burns is an example of the American dream taken to extremes. He's only done what society has drilled into our heads as the ultimate accomplishment- become filthy stinking rich. And, like William Hearst (who Citizen Kane was based upon) or his modern-day equivalent Donald Trump, he's become a shell of a man, unhappy in the very thing that he believed would finally bring him satisfaction.

Aside from the social commentary, this episode also has some brilliant one-liners and sight gags, including the very final scene set in the future featuring Mr. Burns as a preserved head in a jar, which Matt Groening cites as his inspiration for Futurama.

It's hard to say anything about "Rosebud" that hasn't already been said better at snpp.com or in a Popular Culture Studies term paper, but the episode stands as a golden moment for the Simpsons and television in general.

9. Marge Vs. The Monorail

You know how some people still mourn Heath Ledger's death and watch all his movies on the anniversary of his passing? And upload gifsets to Tumblr with profound quotes? That's how I feel about Phil Hartman.

"Marge vs. The Monorail" is a fantastic episode all around, but what makes it truly great is Phil Hartman's inspired performance as old-fashioned shyster Lyle Lanley. In a plot clearly heavily influenced by The Music Man, Lanley convinces the townspeople of Springfield to build a monorail with a surplus of money they've recent;y come into. This being the Simpsons, of course, his intentions are far from honourable and he builds a slipshod monorail, planning to run off with the profits. I'm sure you've all seen this episode so there's no need to go into what happens. But this episode blends the humanistic comedy that the Simpsons became famous for with the wacky plots that they would later be defined by. Some of the humour in this episode is just so out-there- (the guest appearance by Leonard Nimoy, the "scientist" that Marge meets)- that it comes as no surprise that this episode was penned by Conan O'Brien, who at the time was just a promising young upstart.

"Marge vs. The Monorail" is a perfect distillation of everything that's great about Golden Age-era Simpsons. If you know somebody who has yet to be introduced to the series, I recommend this episode.

10. Krusty Gets Kancelled

I have a huge fascination with fame and stardom, so this episode makes my top ten list not only because of the numerous celebrity cameos, but also because of the way it serves as a biting satire on flash-in-the-pan celebrities like Gabbo and longtime showbusiness schmucks like Krusty.

Krusty the Klown is an unusual character because he represents not only bored, tired children's entertainers of yore, but also classic superstars and their seemingly neverending careers. This episode in particular seemed to follow the Elvis Presley model. Like Elvis, Krusty was pushed aside for newer, hipper acts, became depressed and overweight, but managed to make a comeback with a huge, well-received TV special (the episode even references Elvis' '68 Comeback Special almost directly when we see Krusty's name lit up behind him in huge lights).

Of course, I'm also totally on board for all the great celebrity guest stars, in particular Elizabeth Taylor, whose cameo was short but sweet and surprisingly self-deprecating, and Bette Midler, whose cameo makes me want to shout "I'll get you for this Midlerrrrrrrrr!" every time I see her anywhere else.

All in all, this episode is the perfect send-up of what it means to be a celebrity constantly clawing their way up back to the top. Later-season episodes pander to the celebrity guest stars so much more than this episode did, and it's refreshing to see huge stars like The Red Hot Chili Peppers and Luke Perry (well, huge at the time) take the piss out of themselves.