Gilmore Girls: Nourishing Nostalgia

My love for the Gilmore Girls began in January 2015. I had never watched the show when it was on air, but once all seven seasons hit Netflix, people kept recommending it to me. Finally, I decided my New Year's Resolution would be to see what all the hype was about. And then I lost three months of my life.

Here's the basic premise: Lorelai Gilmore (Lauren Graham) was a single teen mom, giving birth to her daughter, Rory, when she was only sixteen. She chose to leave home, get a job, and raise Rory by herself, rather than taking the easy way out and marrying the wealthy boyfriend she didn't love. As a result, Lorelai and Rory share less of a mother-daughter relationship and more of a best-friends-forever dynamic. In the pilot episode, Rory (Alexis Bledel) is sixteen and has gained entrance into the very prestigious and pricey Chilton Preparatory School. Lorelai would do anything for her daughter, so she swallows her pride and goes to her estranged parents (Kelly Bishop and Edward Herrmann) to ask for a loan to help with Rory's tuition. Lorelai's always-scheming mother, Emily, agrees, but only if Lorelai and Rory will have dinner at the Gilmore house every Friday. And thus begin the weekly Friday dinners, a sometimes funny, sometimes dramatic ritual that pits Lorelai against her upper-class parents, while allowing Rory to bond with her grandparents and make them proud.

Setting aside Friday dinner, however, we must discuss Stars Hollow, the Connecticut town where the Gilmore girls live. This town is insane in the best possible way. It is like a Christmas card and Carnival rolled into one, with a long list of bizarre inhabitants who pop in and out of the show with unfailing regularity and give it so much of its charm and warmth. While the various citizens of Stars Hollow may get on each others' nerves (some much more than others), they are a tight-knit community who love and support each other when push comes to shove. They serve as an idyllic and zany supporting cast for the many adventures that Lorelai and Rory experience in the show's seven seasons.

The show passed the Bechdel test from the first minute and was relentless in its quest to develop these two characters into intelligent, quirky, and oddly relatable women. There were multiple successes and failures, romances and heartbreaks, new opportunities and bitter losses. But through it all, mother and daughter always found their way back to each other and a cup of coffee. Which brings me to A Year in the Life, the four-part revival of the show that Netflix dropped on Friday. While I adored Gilmore Girls when I first started watching it, the final season was a bit of a slog. When I spoke to longtime fans, they informed me this was a truth universally acknowledged, stemming from the fact that the show's creator, Amy Sherman-Palladino, had left the show after Season 6. This show owes everything to her distinctive voice and vision, and A Year in the Life is her triumphant return to the helm. Considering I, a fan of one-year's standing, was already thrilled to see this revival, I can't imagine how ecstatic other people must have been who had been waiting for nine years since the show went off the air.

As it's only four episodes, I shan't spoil a word. All I will say is that it is bizarre and wonderful. It isn't perfect but it captures all the whims and vagaries that made the show such a pleasure. Gilmore Girls always managed to strike a chord, delving into deep-seated neuroses I had always imagined were unique to me and reassuring me that these were a universal experience. Watching A Year in the Life is like a distilled dose of that sense of shared belonging. All the familiar characters and settings are back, along with the whiplash-inducing rapid-fire dialogue, pop cultural references, and general jollity laced with family drama. It feels both fantastical and real at the same time, with multiple tangents, dream-like non sequiturs, some moments that are silly and pointless and others that feel heartbreakingly right. Ultimately, it is comfort food of the highest order, nourishing and warm, a perfect serving of post-Thanksgiving nostalgia and pre-Christmas cheer. Women of all ages can find something to relate to in this story of three generations of Gilmore women, and I urge you to binge watch your way through every episode.

Dr. Strange: Dizzyingly Delightful

I've never taken LSD but I imagine parts of Dr. Strange are akin to experiencing a thoroughly spectacular acid trip. The fourteenth installment in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, this movie lends a fresh twist to the superhero genre by introducing magic and sorcery to the proceedings.

Benedict Cumberbatch stars as the eponymous Stephen Strange, a renowned New York neurosurgeon with a perfect surgical record. He takes difficult, interesting cases, but only if he is certain they can be successful, and like many surgeons of my acquaintance, the man is arrogance personified. His ex-girlfriend, Christine (Rachel McAdams), is a trauma surgeon at the same hospital and they have a good working relationship, if not a very fulfilling personal one. However, one day he gets into a terrible car crash, mangles his hands, and is told he will never be able to operate again. He spends all his money pursuing every available treatment until he finally ends up in Nepal, seeking a mysterious guru who allegedly helped a paralyzed man walk again.

At a compound called Kamar-Taj, Strange meets the Ancient One (Tilda Swinton) and her protege, Mordo (Chiwetel Ejiofor). After your standard bout of scientific skepticism, he is convinced that there really is a multiverse brimming with magic and miracles, and he might be able to access them to heal his hands. Therein begins his training and the subsequent battle with the dark sorcerers, led by the Ancient One's former protege, Kaecelius (Mads Mikkelsen), who is, of course, trying to use the ancient magic to gain immortality.

This film features astonishing visuals. As people jump through worlds and alter their surroundings with a wave of their hands, conjuring fiery spells and icy weapons, your eyes will be assaulted with beauty and wonderment. I am reliably informed that parts of the film's jaw-dropping aesthetic are a direct ode to the comic books, so there is plenty to satisfy the Marvel purists as well as the casual enthusiasts like myself. The teachings of the Ancient One are a fascinating mix of classic philosophy, meditation, and Marvel gobbledygook that don't overwhelm the plot but clearly allow Strange's development from a selfish surgeon to a superhero sorcerer. And the acting is top notch, with every actor delivering action, drama, and flashes of humor to keep things moving at a briskly entertaining pace. Cumberbatch's American accent is a tad tortured, but you won't be paying attention to it once you're transported to the Mirror Dimension.

At a brief two hours, this is a fairly short movie for Marvel and a winning addition to their canon. It follows the standard formula but adds so many genuinely breathtaking special effects that I was spellbound. Michael Giacchino's score is also remarkable, featuring jangly synth music that is both unnerving and amusing, reminding you that strange things are afoot but they will all get sorted out in the end. So watch Dr. Strange and don't give in to superhero fatigue. Every year I think I will reach a point when I am over Marvel, and every year they prove me wrong by coming up with something new, silly, and a little bit strange.  

Arrival: Soul-Stirring Sci-Fi

Arrival is an incredible movie. And I'm tempted to end the review right there because it is well-nigh impossible to explain why it is such an incredible movie without giving away all the plot points that make it so. However, let's give it a try.

Amy Adams stars as Louise Banks, a linguistics professor who gets called up by Colonel Weber (Forest Whitaker) to help the US government when aliens land on earth and they need someone to communicate with them. When she arrives at base camp, she is partnered with astrophysicist Ian Donnelly (Jeremy Renner: insert joke here about how Renner playing an astrophysicist is the most unbelievable thing about the movie). The two of them suit up in bulky orange Hazmat suits and head on over to the spaceship to meet the aliens. And the rest of the movie proceeds as a mind-bending philosophical treatise on the nature of language and humanity.

A common gripe scientists have with science fiction movies is their insistence on rendering aliens as humanoid creatures that look a lot like us except for distorted features (think green skin, big head, and skinny limbs for your classic Martian). However, the aliens in Arrival are the weirdest things you've ever seen, a bit like a cross between an elephant and a jellyfish. And their language is impossible to describe. Louise gives up entirely on understanding them via speech as they only seem to make a series of loud booming noises. Instead, she decides to communicate via writing, and the movie painstakingly goes through her attempts to reconcile their writing system with English. If you thought English was a complicated beast of a language to master, wait till you see what these aliens have come up with. Their "writing" consists of black circles that have splotches all around to symbolize different words. They also don't express these words linearly, a fact that becomes mighty significant in the second half of the movie.

Enough about language, on to humanity. One of the odd aspects of this invasion is that there are twelve separate alien ships that have landed in distinct areas across the globe. Louise is working with the aliens who landed in rural Montana, but at the same time, there are scientists in Russia, China, Sudan, etc. who are dealing with their own set of aliens. The governments of all these nations begin by cooperating and the specialists are in constant audiovisual communication to share their findings (to a point). However, once China gets spooked by something the aliens say, they decide they've had enough of this friendly banter and it's time for war. Louise is unconvinced, insisting that the Chinese have misunderstood the creatures' intent because they were using a game of chess to understand their language instead of her more nuanced approach. When you play games, you inevitably set up themes of winners and losers and battles, which limits your vocabulary to war-like concepts. Therefore, she's in a race against time to divine the aliens' true purpose and convince the rest of humankind to choose peace over war.

None of the above hits upon what truly makes this film sad, beautiful, and mesmerizing. That lies in an aspect of Louise's personal life and something she learns from talking to the aliens. The movie's twist is poignant and heartbreaking, and while reminiscent of Interstellar, it manages to cut deep because of the empathy we have come to feel for Louise over the course of the movie. Director Denis Villeneuve is an expert at making movies that are deeply character-driven regardless of genre. All that matters to him are the people at the center of the drama, and Arrival is no exception. Amy Adams' performance is sublime, and the overall message of hope and living for the moment is one that sticks with you for a long time after you leave the theater.

Beautifully adapted by Eric Heisserer from a short story by Ted Chiang, Arrival is a spare, wondrous movie, one that purports to be science fiction about aliens but really is a meditation on human beings. It is imaginative and thought-provoking, an intellectual treat that still manages to sock you in the gut.

We Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled Programming...

Regular readers of this blog are probably aware of my political beliefs. As an Indian woman who grew up in Bahrain and Canada, has been living in New York for the past fifteen years, and got her Bachelor's degree from Wellesley College, I am an unapologetically liberal feminist who was 100% in the tank for Hillary Clinton.

I only became an American citizen two years ago and yesterday was my first ever chance to vote in a Presidential Election. I went down to my polling station at 7 am, proudly filled in the bubble next to Hillary Clinton's name, scanned my ballot, and smiled when the machine told me my vote had been counted. I was working from home, so I stuck my "I voted" sticker on my bedroom door, and spent the rest of my day working. Then at 7 pm, I turned on the TV and watched the election results come in. I stayed up till 1 am, until I couldn't bear it any longer. I slept fitfully and finally checked Twitter at 5 am to have it confirmed that Hillary had lost. I spent the rest of my morning writing and re-tweeting sad, funny, and angry messages, trying to process my emotions. Part of me felt betrayed - it was a slap in the face that half the country couldn't bring themselves to vote for a woman. Part of me felt horribly defeated - if a woman as accomplished as Hillary was deemed not good enough, what chance did an average woman like me have in the world? Part of me was furious, part of me was desperate, all of me felt unhinged. I went to work in a fog and spent a few hours in meetings, wondering how on earth the world could keep turning when everything felt so broken.

Then at 11:30 am, Hillary Clinton made her concession speech. I watched at my desk and was holding it together. She was gracious and magnanimous in defeat. She said all the right things, was patriotic and professional. And then she said:

"And to the young people in particular, I hope you will hear this. I have, as Tim said, spent my entire adult life fighting for what I believe in. I’ve had successes and I’ve had setbacks. Sometimes, really painful ones. Many of you are at the beginning of your professional public and political careers. You will have successes and setbacks, too.

This loss hurts, but please never stop believing that fighting for what’s right is worth it.

It is — it is worth it.

And so we need — we need you to keep up these fights now and for the rest of your lives.

And to all the women, and especially the young women, who put their faith in this campaign and in me, I want you to know that nothing has made me prouder than to be your champion.

Now, I — I know — I know we have still not shattered that highest and hardest glass ceiling, but some day someone will and hopefully sooner than we might think right now.

And — and to all the little girls who are watching this, never doubt that you are valuable and powerful and deserving of every chance and opportunity in the world to pursue and achieve your own dreams."

That is when I finally cried. That is when I understood what I felt and why I felt it. I was grieving because this great woman, who was my champion, had been unable to shatter that glass ceiling. I was grieving because her dreams had become inextricably entwined with my dreams and this time, we could not make our dreams come true.

In the afternoon, friends started posting stories on Facebook and Twitter of relatives, friends, and strangers who were being harassed, spit on, and told to go back where they came from. It resembled the immediate aftermath of Brexit this summer in the UK, and despite the predictability, I am still disgusted by these human beings who cannot resist the urge to hurt and demean those who are different from themselves.

When I got home, I watched Obama's gracious speech and Stephen Colbert's stirring closing monologue from last night's election special. And I re-read Hillary's speech (I cannot re-watch it because it will make me cry again). And I realized, I should not hurt and demean those who are different from me. I am still grieving and I am still angry. But Hillary has asked me to move on and keep fighting. Obama does not want me to give in to cynicism. Colbert wants me to go hug a Republican. They are wise people who have had their fair share of successes and setbacks, and I cannot complain because my very first vote did not go according to plan. I still got to cast a vote for the first female US Presidential nominee. And I know that eventually I will get to say I voted for the first elected female US President.

I may have only become a citizen two years ago, but the one thing I have learned from this election is that America has become my home. I care deeply about its future and my place in it. So I will move on and fight twice as hard for the ideas and people that made me fall in love with America in the first place. Which brings me to this blog. Many of the things I write about here are the things I love about America. Yes, a lot of it is silly and frivolous, but a lot of it is deep and meaningful too. And when I recommend a movie, for example, I sometimes get a note from someone who watched it because of my review and it made them happy, or it made them think about the world in a different way. That is a small success, and it is one that I cherish. So I will continue to post reviews of the wonderful, strange, and terrible things I watch and read on a weekly basis, and I hope you will continue to read. And four years from now, I will vote for the second time in a Presidential Election, and I will let you know how it goes.