"Inaccurate Portrayal of Mental Illness" - Debunking the Myth | Olivia J

"An idea that is not dangerous is unworthy of being called an idea at all," -Oscar Wilde

"(in)accurate portrayal of mental illness"

That phrase gets thrown around a hell of a lot these days. 

And I'm sick of people abusing it. 

Phrases like this get thrown around concerning shows like 13 Reasons Why, and basically any other form of art that involves a story. However, it is grossly and inherently problematic because it assumes something extraordinarily harmful about mental illness itself:  that mental illness is homogenous. 

I think that most of us can agree that 13 Reasons Why is not a good show. The writing is poor, the characters are inconsistent, and the depiction of suicide is harmful. 

Now before you all light your torches and call me a hypocrite, let me establish:  there is a wrong way to portray mental illness, but there is not one single way to portray mental illness. 

Let me explain. Portraying mental illness incorrectly involves assigning inaccurate or inconsistent symptoms to a mental illness, perpetuating harmful or incorrect stereotypes and stigma around mental illness, and not portraying mental illness as something that is treatable. Basically, the wrong way of portraying mental illness is spreading inaccurate information. Most other things are up for debate.

The tricky part is that many people - including myself - found 13 Reasons Why as a very harmful and inaccurate portrayal of mental illness (I'm looking at you, producers-entirely-ignoring-the-advice-from-a-psychiatric-board). It idealizes the fallout from suicide, spinning it out to be revenge instead of untreated mental illness. It blames suicide on everyone else instead of Hannah Baker. It never puts a quantifier on mental illness, and paints an utterly hopeless picture of the topics it explores. 

However, I've spoken with many people who have identified with the bullying and social aspects of 13 Reasons Why. And who am I to invalidate their feelings and experiences? Despite that the myrad of reasons why 13 Reasons Why falls flat on its face, bullying can contribute to mental illness, and if 13 Reasons Why resonated with someone - if someone saw themselves in 13 Reasons Why and they felt it was an accurate portrayal of their struggles with bullying and mental illness - then I have no right to tell them any differently. Because guess what?

There's no one single way to have a mental illness. 

From depression, anxiety, and trauma, to schizophrenia, disassociative identity disorder, and eating/substance abuse disorders, everyone experiences mental illness differently. My PTSD doesn't look like your PTSD. My friend's depression doesn't look like my family member's depression. Portrayals and/or content that one person finds harmful or triggering may not bother or affect another. 

To claim that your experience of mental illness is the correct or only experience and that your experience of mental illness ought to be the only one portrayed in media is unbelievably selfish and insensitive to the millions of other people who experience mental illness differently than you.

Truthfully, this is partially a call-out post to myself, because I've claimed that 13 Reasons Why isn't an accurate portrayal of mental illness, because it's not. For me. However, I'm retracting that statement to some degree because I know it resonates with some people, and I don't want to invalidate them. I'm not perfect, and I continue to evolve and grow as an artist, a consumer, and a critic. 

However, next time you're tempted to call a piece of media an 'inaccurate portrayal of mental illness', consider whether it is literally a factually incorrect and harmful portrayal, or whether it just doesn't align with your experiences and therefore you personally can't relate to it. 

Because nine times out of ten, there's someone out there who can relate to it, and they shouldn't be robbed of the experience of being profoundly impacted and deeply understood by storytelling. Nobody should. 

~The WordShaker

When TV Becomes Trivial - Analysis of The 100 S5

"I'm going to write because I cannot help it," -Charlotte Bronte

As you all well know, my favorite hobby is analyzing stories. And, of course, I like to analyze the content I'm consuming. 

Is anyone surprised?

Anyway, Season 5 of my third favorite tv show - The 100 - has been airing for the past month, and I've been noticing a trend that's concerning. It has also plagued The CW's Riverdale. It could be that these two shows come from the same network, but alas. It's still a problem. 

Season Five picks back up at the very end where Season Four left off, with Clarke radioing Bellamy, and a mysterious ship appearing in the air. And from there, there's only about a one episode interlude of establishing both where Clarke is on earth and where Bellamy and the others are in space. One other episode is spent on Octavia in the bunker, but otherwise, the episodes plunge right back into the thick of the plot. 

And already, we have a problem. This season's conflict arises when a group of prisoners come down from their mother ship to fight for the last habitable spot on earth - well, North America at least. 

And my question is this: why focus on this when there are six years worth of quality material that is just skipped over? The stories within the six years are far more interesting that just watching our heroes defeat yet another villain. Imagine all of the things that happened to them over six years that changed them and shape them into who they are. Skipping all of this time and just breezing right past all of that good character material is just a disservice. 

This is, unfortunately, a pitfall that many tv shows fall into. Once Upon A Time and The Walking Dead, to name a few. And it all culminates to the fact that the writers start writing for the thrills and stop writing for the characters, which is a one-stop-shop to failure. The characters of The 100 feel disconnected from who they were, which is a tragedy. But it would be less of a tragedy if the writers spent more time developing who they had changed into. 

However, I think this is a systemic problem with television though. The writers can't see a permanent end in sight because they never know if the show is going to be renewed, and if they do, it's probably too little too late to fix all of their problems. When you can't see a permanent end in sight, meaning something that overarcs through the whole series, it all feels . . . trivial. Like nothing matters, and all of the characters seem to reset at the beginning of another season. 

The problem when tv shows drag on and on, like The 100 is gearing towards, is that it starts writing for the thrills and not writing for the characters. The writers think they need to keep the watchers hooked with big reveals and plot twists, but all they really need is solid characters with growing arcs. I'm afraid that this is what The 100 is becoming, because jumping right back into the action without giving these characters time to develop - or even breathe - makes all of the other time we spent with them in past seasons feel wasted. It all loses meaning when the writers forget to focus on the most important part of the story. 

The 100 is a good show. It has strong characters, heartbreaking arcs, and interesting and complex themes and morals. Don't let stats, viewership, or the uncertainty of renewal draw your focus away from what really keeps viewers: the characters. I'm looking at you, Jason Rothenberg. You can do better. You have done better. 

~The WordShaker

An Open Letter to Marvel: Respect Your Dead

"If you do not tell the truth about yourself you cannot tell it about other people," - Virginia Woolf

WARNING: This post contains massive spoilers for 2017's Logan and 2018's Avengers: Infinity War. 

Did y'all really think I wasn't going to make an analysis post about Infinity War? C'mon, do you even know me?

Well, this post really isn't about Infinity War strictly. It's more of a recurring trope in Marvel properties that drives me up a wall, across the ceiling, and down the other side. 

An Open Letter to Marvel: Respect Your Dead

Marvel does not respect its dead. 

Marvel does this in two ways - one being the just-kidding death slash the resurrection death, and the second by not giving fictional death the proper treatment it deserves.

Consider Loki's death at the beginning of the movie. Loki has died . . . how many times now? Maybe just once, but the fact is that we all believed he was dead, and then he 'resurrected'.  Same with Nick Fury. The problem is that many deaths in the MCU are seen as temporary, as plot devices, or for shock value instead of being portrayed as what they actually are - deaths of (fictional) human beings. (Shoutout to my homie Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 for actually giving a character a good and respectful death.)

If you'll remember from my review of the masterpiece that is Logan - read that here - then you'll remember my only real gripe was that Professor X's death wasn't given more time. The title character of the entire X-Men franchise just died. His death really needed to sink in, and there needed to be just a bit longer of a lull for both the characters and the audience to feel the full effect of the moment. 

And I have this same complaint with Infinity War.

At the very end, Thanos snapped his fingers and half of our beloved characters dissolved into dust, including Bucky Barnes. This is where the biggest crime of the century comes in. 

But it all starts with earlier in the Wakanda sequence, when Steve and Bucky are reunited. I was so incredibly excited for an emotional scene of the two life-long best friends finally seeing each other again after years of separation. 

But no. From what I remember, we got a smile and a handshake and a half-hug thing. I wanted to stand up in my seat and riot at what an absolute disappointment and bloody disservice this was to what undeniably is one of the most important relationships in the MCU. 

And it only gets worse. 

When Steve Roger's best friend of 70+ years who is his only link to his former life and whom he just got back after the trauma that was Civil War literally disappears into dust in front of his very eyes, Steve just kind of . . . touches the ground, looking shocked. 

This is not at all how he would react. His best friend has just been taken from him again and assumed dead. It was an extraordinary disservice to both Bucky and Steve that Steve had very little emotional reaction to this life-altering event. This is honestly what broke Infinity War for me, and why I'm here ripping this aspect to shreds. 

In contrast, Peter Parker's death was an absolute tear-jerker. It was so heart-breakingly human and perfect for the context of Peter and Tony. Okoye's reaction to seeing T'Challa disappear was stunning and horrifying and real. 

But the problem with all of the deaths at the end of Infinity War harks back to what I mentioned about Loki, as well as the deaths of Bucky and Professor X, etc. Most of the people who died in Infinity War probably aren't actually dead. There is the time stone after all, and heck, Red Skull is technically still out there. 

But the problem that the MCU has is, that when a character does die, the audience has trouble believing that this character is actually dead or permanently dead. This causes a myriad of problems, ranging from the inability to mourn characters when they actually do die, to breaking the suspension of disbelief within the universe. It dissolves all tension, all of the impact that a good character death can have, when in the back of the audience's mind, they're thinking of all of the other times that characters have 'died' or died and gotten resurrected. Why trick the audience with an emotional bait and switch? What narrative purpose does this serve other than shock value? By devaluing character deaths, it creates an emotional separation between the audience and the character, which is the exact opposite of a good thing. 

The truth is, is that the MCU does not allow the characters nor the audience to fully mourn the deaths of the characters, or even believe their deaths at times, abusing and overusing the intended effect of a character death. 

An argue against this is that sometimes death is sudden, and sometimes, in reality, we don't have time to process death as it happens. And to that I say: fiction - much less, superhero movies -  aren't real life. The writers/directors can and should give the characters and the audience the mourning time they deserve. These are characters we've spent hours with. Give the fictional dead and their fictional loved ones respect and care. 

Wow, it sounds like I'm crazy, doesn't it?

~The WordShaker

Netflix's "Atypical" and The Media's Portrayal of Dads | Olivia J

"All good writing begins with terrible first efforts. You need to start somewhere," -Anne Lamott

In recent Western media, there seems to be two types of Dads - the Bumbling, Comic-Relief Dad, and the Deadbeat, Absent Dad. 

While these two tropes can be respectively entertaining and effective, it paints a clear picture of what our culture believes about fathers in general. 

I recently binge-watched Netflix's Atypical, a family drama about a teenage boy on the autism spectrum, and was pleasantly surprised by the portrayal of the father, Doug. I could talk extensively about how the show succeeds in it's character development and execution of themes and messages, but, as the title suggests, I want to dive into what Atypical does so beautifully in portraying fathers. 

First off, Doug's characterization is refreshing. He's presented to the audience as not just some comic relief, but also as a human being with problems, thoughts, and complexity. This isn't something we see too often in father figures. Often, the father figure is a bumbling background idiot, or he's just an asshole because plot. 

However, Doug is portrayed as a human being, not as comedic relief or to give other characters a damaged background. It feels like he matters to the story as an individual, and not just as a plot convenience or to inspire other characters. We see the reasons and motivation behind his actions - bad and good -  and he truly becomes a heartfelt dad who is trying his hardest to connect with his son. 

Jumping off of Doug and Sam (the protagonist), his relationships with the people in his life are revolutionary. Not only does he have a good relationship with his daughter, he loves his wife (despite her infidelity), and desires desperately to connect with Sam - and does his best to do so. 

This trait is admirable, because all too often we see disconnected dads, out-of-touch dads, and terrible dads, but in actuality, most fathers aren't extreme. What makes this portrayal so revolutionary is that it portrays realistic, average fathers - ones who have the best intentions, but don't always succeed. Ones who care a whole lot, but sometimes make bad decisions. And those kinds of dads are the ones that we need to see more of. 

I probably could keep raving about Atypical and all of the things it does right (I'm looking at you, non-offensive-and-accurate-portrayal-of-autism), and the small, nit-picky things I would have changed. However, I digress. I think I've made my point. 

Here's to writing better dads! 

~The WordShaker

The Missing Song from The Hunchback of Notre Dame

"Drop the word 'aspiring'. Write. Then, write some more," -Joanne Harris

Don't get me wrong, I loved The Hunchback of Notre Dame. 95% of it, at least. 

Recently, I viewed Hunchback when our local theater put it on, and since my best friend was in it, I had to see it. Even though Lauren pretty much told me the whole plot and I had sampled some of the soundtrack with her while driving, I was mostly unfamiliar with the show to begin with. 

However, I loved it. Both the performances and the source material. The actor playing Frollo disappeared into his character was a full bass, and the actor playing Quasimodo was absolutely charismatic, and had a voice like butter on hot toast. No one else in particular blew me away, but the cast was solid despite any weak links. The set was exquisite and the atmosphere/staging added a lot to the show. 

The source material is a whole nother beast. On one hand, songs like "Out There" and "God Help the Outcasts" are spine-tingling and moving, and the musical motifs tie the musical together.

But on the other, it's lacking a climax. Sure, you could pinpoint the 'climax' on a story arc, but it's missing the intensity and the emotional power that a climax should have. 

The problem about the last song, specifically when Quasimodo has just killed Frollo, and he brings Esmeralda's body up front, is just that. There's no true last song. 

Hunchback is lacking a final number of just Quasimodo. Throughout the whole show, it is shown to be a character trait of Quasimodo that he expresses himself through powerful song - see "Out There" and "Made of Stone" - and the end almost feels out of character for him because of that. One could argue that he was too sad to sing because everyone he ever loved was dead, and to that I say, his emotions should have been more clearly shown through the music and Quasimodo's acting, which it wasn't. 

We, the audience, have come through this musical deeply caring about Quasimodo, and, as this show is an almost Greek-like tragedy, the audience also deserves that deep look into Quasimodo, that catharsis that makes tragedies so universal and great. The audience wanted - and deserved - to see Quasimodo go through the stages of grief in a heart-ripping song, and to also explain why he wasn't able to move on. Without the last long depicting how Quasimodo has changed and the depth of his grief, the ending doesn't feel final, unlike what the whole show was building up to. 

Hunchback needed that final Quasimodo solo, of the finality of the show and for the finality of Quasimodo as a character. The audience shouldn't have to infer this much on the thoughts and emotions of a character - the job of the writers and musicians and actors is to make the audience feel them, and this is one of the few places Hunchback fell flat. 

Overall, I liked it, and actually loved it. But you all know me, I get off on analysis, so try and enjoy it anyway. 

~The WordShaker

Journaling as a Writer - and, More Importantly, as a Human Being

"Getting lost in something larger than myself always reminds me of the reasons why I write," -Anne Valente

I haven't been writing much, and as a writer at heart and by blood, this is like an mammal saying they haven't been breathing much. 

Usually, my writing - even though it's a fictional story - lets me release my thoughts, feelings, and emotions through characters and situations that are completely unrelated to my life. But since I've been ashamedly suffering from writer's block since like, August, journaling has become my forceful, if reluctant, outlet. 

In an attempt to relieve my creative and literary constipation, I've been journaling my days and my feelings away. 

And I've found that it's helped. 

It's helped me see how tainted my thoughts and emotions can be. With this, I always have the written perspective of time and my thoughts. 

Things I was freaking out about a week ago have become irrelevant or completely turned on their head. It helps me understand myself better, to pin down my thoughts somewhere tangible, where I can then wrestle with them and figure them out. 

And I can better understand myself, so I can better understand my writing - or lack thereof. 

Trust me, it helps in those in between chapter times or those emotional moments. 

Try it. It's like a drug. 

~The WordShaker