A Bembo comic! Man I love these. IIRC, the whole idea for Bembo started off on twitter when I went on a bit of a "dumb barbarian but not in the way you'd expect" style of shitposting spree. Then later that year I needed some filler comics for the week between xmas and new year's so I decided to turn some of those posts into actual comics. And then it became a semi-regular thing! They're very fun and I hope to do more in the future. Bembo is obviously heavily indebted to Oglaf, a comic I adore. Go read Oglaf, unless you don't like cartoons with tits and wieners in them I guess.
Every time I see one of these old comics I think "man, remember when QC was about indie rock lol." Also remember when I used to make jokes about the size of Faye's ass but didn't really know how to draw thicker ladies yet so she pretty much looked like every other character, lol.
I’ve long been interested in the topic of housework, as you can see from this CT post, which produced a long and unusually productive discussion thread [fn1]. The issue came up again in relation to the prospects for humanoid robots. It’s also at the edge of bunch of debates going on (mostly on Substack) about living standards and birth rates.
I’m also interested (like nearly everyone, one way or another) in “Artificial Intelligence” (scare quotes intentional). My current position is, broadly, that it’s what Google should have become instead of being steadily enshittified in the pursuit of advertising dollars. But I’m alert to other possibilities, including that more investment will deliver something that genuinely justifies the name AI. And I think a lot of the concerns about power and water use, the spread of AI slop and so on are either overstated or (as with deepfakes) are mostly new iterations of concerns that always arise with new IT and communications technology, and can be addressed with existing conceptual and legal tools.
With this background, I thought it would be interesting to try out ChatGPTs Deep Research (DR) on the question of what has happened to housework and why. As I may have mentioned before, I’ve trained DR on a big volume of my own writing. That produces a passable imitation of my style, and means I don’t worry about the ethical issues of plagiarising the writing style of others (of course, standard norms of citation and attribution still apply).
I decided to focus on single-person households, to abstract away from the issues of child-raising (which I want to look at separately) and the allocation of work between partners (about which there is a vast literature to which I can’t add anything new).
Everything went really well to start with. I prompted DR for time use data, then pushed further on with more detailed questions like the impact of air fryers on male cooking habits (I was given one recently and was impressed enough that I promptly bought a second). I asked for a literature search and got references to Judy Wajcman and Michael Bittman[2], both of whom I knew and a couple of people I didn’t. DR missed Ruth Schwartz Cowan’s classic More Work for Mother.
On the other hand, I wasn’t aware of Wajcman’s recent Pressed for Time and hadn’t thought about the broader issue of life administration, which DR pointed out. I gave it a more economistic take, trying to divide labour-saving innovation (electronic bill paying) from the labour costs of more digital consumption (retrieving passwords for streaming services etc).
I got DR to produce a LaTeX file, and was nearly ready to go to digital press when I noticed that the references were incomplete. At this stage, the whole process spiralled into disaster. Every draft seemed to lose more material, and to be worse written. Finally, I demanded an explanation
DR graciously explained that this is the way it does things. Here’s its response with ](more detailed version here)
Why Deep Research Fails
The core issue: The “illusion of continuity” in long-context LLMs
Large-context models appear to preserve every part of the conversation, but in reality:
They do not reliably retain or retrieve long-form outputs they themselves generated.
Even though the conversation window may be large, the model often cannot:
accurately locate the version you consider the “full text,”
reliably differentiate between multiple drafts (short, medium, long) created earlier,
or accurately regenerate from earlier output unless it is verbatim re-supplied by the user.
This is because the internal contextual representation compresses earlier tokens. Information is not stored sequentially; it is represented in a latent space, which cannot always reconstruct past outputs faithfully.
Fortunately, my LaTeX program took continuous backups, so I’ve been able to retrieve the last good version, but I’m going to keep it away from DR for now.
I was going to go on with more detail about the actual report, but my op-ed training leads me to feel that a post should have 700 words, and I am at 675 as I type this.
fn1. I can take a victory lap on my jihad/crusade against ironing, which has disappeared almost entirely, contradicting the expectations of many commenters.
fn2. Not the same as food writer Michael Bittman, who came in for some criticism in the 2012 thread.
A personal story to begin: I was a film critic at the Fresno Bee newspaper when Strictly Ballroom came out in 1992. My review of it was an unqualified rave, and I said something along the line that people who loved old-fashioned movie musicals should go out of their way to see it. Then, on opening day, I took my friend Kristin to see the film at a matinee showing at the Fig Garden theater, which was at the time the “high-toned” theater in town.
I didn’t expect there to be much of an audience for a small Australian film about ballroom dancing on a Friday afternoon, but the theater was packed, and mostly with older folks. Kristin and I took our seats and as we did so an older gentleman in the row in front of us, who I assure you did not know I was there, turned to his seatmate and said, “If John Scalzi is wasting my time I am going to find him and kick his ass.”
That’s when I knew that this entire audience was there because I, as the local film critic, has promised them a good old-fashioned time at the movies. And if they didn’t like it, and found out I was there, there was going to an actual geriatric riot as they tore my body apart, slowly, and with considerable effort, limb from limb.
Reader, my ass was not kicked.
And this is because, while Strictly Ballroom is, actually, not at all an old-fashioned movie musical, the vibe, the feel, the delight and, yes, the corniness of an old-fashioned musical is indeed there — that deliriously heightened space where nothing is quite real but everything feels possible, including the happy ending that’s just too perfect, and you know it, and you don’t care, because you’ve been there for the whole ride and that’s just where it had to go, and you’re glad it did. That’s what Strictly Ballroom nails, just like the musical extravaganzas of old. All it’s missing is the Technicolor.
Plus! It was the feature film debut of Baz Luhrmann, the Australian filmmaker who has gone on to give the world some of the most movies of the last 30 years, including Romeo + Juliet, Moulin Rouge! and The Great Gatsby. Everything that made those movies the gonzo experiences they were is here, in primordial, smaller, and much less expensive form. Luhrmann could not yet afford more here. But he was absolutely going to give the most with what he had, which was three million dollars, Australian.
And also, a humdinger of a story about Australia’s delightfully weird ballroom dancing subculture, where men dress in tuxes with numbers attached to them, swinging around women wearing dresses that look like they skinned a Muppet and added sequins. The opening sequence, filmed in documentary style, introduces us to Scott Hastings (Paul Mercurio), a ballroom dancer whose path to the top of the field is all but assured — until, that is, Scott does the unthinkable: He starts improvising, and adding… new steps!
Which is just not done, ballroom dancing has standards, after all. Paul’s act of insurrection costs him, to the consternation of those around him, including his mother. But Paul is a rebel! He doesn’t care! He wants to dance his new steps!
No one believes in Scott and his new steps except for Fran (Tara Morice), a gawky beginner to the ballroom dancing scene, yes, but one who has some moves of her own from outside the ballroom world. Scott is intrigued, first by the steps and then for other reasons. Naturally Scott and Fran will be beset on all sides by disapproval of parents, institutions, the expectations of others, and ultimately, their own selves. Will they live a life in fear? Or will they dance their way to that promised happy ending?
It’s not even a little bit of a spoiler to say that there will be a happy ending — this movie was not made in the early 70s, after all, where the rebellion against cinematic norms would dictate that everyone in the film would have to be hit by a train or something. The interest of the film is how it gets to the happy ending. The answer is, with a lot of comedy, a lot of dancing and a couple of not-surprising-in-retrospect twists that are, the first time you see them, nevertheless a bit of a surprise. Scott is a classic pretty boy dancing rebel, Fran is a classic ugly duckling, and the two of them ultimately have their big dancing scene that we’ve been waiting for the whole film, which totally feels earned, even if it’s all a little ridiculous, in a good way.
And to be clear it really is all ridiculous, in a good way. Baz Luhrmann, who also co-wrote the movie (based on a play he put together, which in itself was based on his own experiences in the ballroom dancing scene) is not here for your cynicism or your snobbery. He knows the ballroom dancing world is something that can look silly and even foolish from the outside, but if you’ve decided to put yourself on the outside, that’s a you problem, now, isn’t it? It’s clear Luhrmann has deep affection for the scene and the people who are in it, and if the characters in the movie are a little too into it all, wrapping themselves up in it to the exclusion of much else — well, what are your passions? What weird little insular groups do you belong to? Speaking as someone who is extremely deep into the world of science fiction, and its conventions and its award dramas, which are in their way no less ridiculous (and also has had its own movies parodying its scene, more than one, even), not only am I not going to cast the first stone, I am going to claim a kinship. We are all a part of a ridiculous scene, and if we are not, we’re probably really boring.
I love that Baz Luhrmann loves ballroom dancing here, and lets us see his affection with an unwinking eye. I love that Scott is serious about his new steps as a way to crack open the moribund field he loves. I love that Fran unreservedly wants to be part of Scott’s revolution. I love that, in this small, bounded nutshell of a universe, this is all life-and-death stuff. I love that we see it all portrayed with a light touch, great comedy, and some genuinely fantastic dance scenes.
In fact, I will say this: Strictly Ballroom is, in its way, an absolutely perfect movie. Is it a great movie? Is it an important movie? Is it an influential movie? Honestly requires me to say “no” in all those cases. But those are not the same things! For what Strictly Ballroom is, it is genuinely difficult for me to imagine how any of it could have been done a single jot better. Everything about it works as it should, and does what it is meant to do. Everyone in the cast is delightful being the characters they are. In a movie about ballroom dancing, there isn’t a single step out of place, even the steps that are out of place, because they are meant to be where they are.
How many movies can you say that about? That you look at them and say, “yes, you one hundred percent did the thing you set out to do”? There are damned few, in any era. There is a reason this film received not one but two fifteen-minute standing ovations at the Cannes Film Festival, and won a bunch of awards around the world, and still holds up thirty-some-odd years after it was released. It’s because it’s a perfect little jolt of joy.
As a coda, another personal story: A few years ago I was in Melbourne for a science fiction convention, and as I was in my taxi from the airport, we passed a theater showing Strictly Ballroom, the musical. Well, I knew what I was going to do with my evening; I went and bought one of the few seats remaining (in the balcony! Center!) and enjoyed the hell out of the theatrical version, nearly as much as the cinematic version. Then, walking back to my hotel, I tore a muscle in my leg stepping off a curb and had to go to a hospital to have it dealt with.
It’s possible if I had not gone to see Strictly Ballroom that night, I wouldn’t have torn my muscle. But I did, and I don’t regret it. It was worth it.
A depowered witch discovers she is just one zany scheme away from regaining her power... provided her estranged mentor does not intervene. Which of course he will.
There have always been “director’s cuts” and “extended cuts” of films, particularly in the era of the DVD and Blu-Ray, when a film’s distributor could slap in a few scenes that were cut out of the theatrical because the movie would be too long, or too laggy, or both, herald it as an “Unrated Director’s Cut” and eke out a few more bucks from the movie’s fans. Most of the time, this additional material did not change the course of the film in any substantive way — even the extended cuts of The Lord of the Rings trilogy mostly only added detail, with only one significant deviation between cuts that I can think of (that being the final disposition of Saruman).
Then there is The Kingdom of Heaven. The changes between the theatrical release, out in May of 2005, and the Director’s Cut, released on DVD in December of that year, are significant enough that in many ways they are different movies. The backstory of the hero is significantly changed, as is his relationship to characters shown early in the film; previously unknown children show up to play significant roles in the plot; and the final disposition of at least one major character in the film is entirely changed. Ridley Scott, who directed the film, called the extended version “the one that should have been released.”
So why wasn’t it? Well, because the extended version was three hours and ten minutes long, and in 2005, really only two filmmakers not relegated to arthouse status could get away with three hour films. One was Peter Jackson, whose non-extended The Return of the King clocked in at three hours and twenty minutes, and the other was Jim Cameron, who spent three hours and fifteen minutes sinking the Titanic. Everyone else, even Ridley Scott, needed their films shorter, preferably not longer than two hours, thirty minutes. The theatrical cut of The Kingdom of Heaven? Two hours, twenty-four minutes. Scott, no stranger to “director’s cuts,” (see the multiple extended versions of Blade Runner that are out in the world), waited for the home video release for the longer cut.
Most cineastes, fans of the film and apparently Ridley Scott himself will tell you that the extended cut of this film is the one to see, but today I am going to file a modified minority report. I think the theatrical release is perfectly good — and indeed in some places better than the extended version — and it’s the version that I end up rewatching, not the lauded longer version.
In both versions of this tale, the following is true: A French blacksmith named Balian (Orlando Bloom, trying to make the transition to serious actor after his franchise hits) is grieving the death of his wife when a noble named Godfrey shows up, declares himself Balian’s father, and bids him join his entourage as they journey to the Holy Land, which is, momentarily at least, between crusades. Balian passes, but then, one significant crime later, he’s on his way.
In the Holy Land, Balian quickly finds favor with the Jerusalem’s Christian king Baldwin, who is managing a tenuous peace with Saladin, his Muslim counterpart; he also quickly befriends Sibylla (Eva Green), Baldwin’s sister. Sibylla’s husband Guy dislikes Balian, which is not great because Baldwin is dying and Guy will be king soon, and when he is king, he’s going to pick a fight with Saladin. Devotees of history will know how this went for him, and it goes similarly in the movie. Suddenly it falls to Balian to defend Jerusalem from Saladin’s forces.
Now, going all the way back to my days as a professional film critic (now — lord — 35 years ago), I’ve always warned people never to confuse cinematic historical dramas with what actually happened in history, even when, as is the case here, an actual historic event (the Siege of Jerusalem) is being portrayed. Given the choice of historical accuracy and engaging drama, filmmakers will go for drama every single time.
This is absolutely the case here; in both versions of The Kingdom of Heaven, the very broad strokes of history are (generally) correct, but almost all the details are fictional as hell. The extended cut does not gain any substantial accuracy for being longer; indeed it takes a couple of opportunities to be even more historically incorrect because it’s interesting for the story. Balian did exist! He did defend Jerusalem! Everything else you should consider as being subject to artistic license.
With that noted, the drama portion is solid — the story of Balian, from humble beginnings to defense of Jerusalem, is engaging, and Orlando Bloom is on point personifying him. 2005 was still an era where people were trying to make Bloom happen as a leading man, a thing that didn’t get much traction outside of him being an elf or a pirate. I don’t think that’s Bloom’s fault, and definitely not here. He’s working as hard as he can to sell it, and he’s holding his own against folks like Liam Neeson, Jeremy Irons, David Thewlis and Edward Norton. If there’s any flaw in the character, it’s one noted by other characters in the film: He’s possibly too good (in a moral sense) for the world he’s in. But that’s the fault of the writers, not Bloom.
Where the film really shines for me, however, is the overall political milieu of the film. Surprise: the Holy Land has been a place of contention for millennia, a fact that (to put it mildly) continues to this day. The Kingdom of Heaven doesn’t shy away from the complexity of having a single place desired and claimed by, and fought over, both the Christians and Muslims. There are lots of places where the film could have easily tipped over into jingoism — this was the early 2000s, when the US’s 9/11 scars were still fresh, and we, a nominally-secular but de facto Christian country, had boots on the ground in Muslim nations — and bluntly it might have been substantially more successful financially if it had been.
Scott and screenwriter William Monaghan didn’t take that route, instead showing (among other things) the Muslim leader Saladin (Ghassan Massoud) as a man of integrity and moral force, keeping the hotheads in his own host in line, and showing respect and even kindness, first to King Baldwin, and then to Balian. The Christians in the film run the gamut, from honorable to despicable, and all of their range is given context in the story. Again, the story should not be seen as accurate history. But as an examination of how the high ideals of religion can run aground in the ambition of base humans, it has some striking moments.
Add to this the fact that Ridley Scott has a knack for visuals that has been near-unparalleled for more than 50 years, and you have a film that is a joy to look at.
To come back to the issue of the theatrical release vs the extended cut, here’s my thought on that: the extended cut is better for understanding the wider story Scott and Monaghan were trying to capture, but the theatrical cut is better paced and presented, and is a more engaging cinematic experience. “More” isn’t always better; often it’s just more. I’ve seen the extended cut and, having seen it and internalized the bits that aren’t in the shorter version, I can keep them in the ledger of my awareness while I’m enjoying the version of the film that actually, you know, moves at a compelling pace.
This is caveated with the acknowledgement that I saw the theatrical version first, liked it perfectly well, and then saw the extended version; it’s possible that if I had seen the extended version first I might prefer it more. But honestly I don’t know if I would have. Bluntly, I want my movies to feel like movies, not like a slightly-compacted miniseries.
That said, both versions are worth seeing, even if only one is going to be on my repeat-viewing list. I appreciate Ridley Scott making a handsome movie about a complicated plot of land, no less so now than in the time the film is set, and not pretending that, either then or now, there is anything easy or simple about the struggles there. I don’t think this film will convert anyone who wants to argue otherwise. But I’m glad Scott made the attempt.
The third array of recent standalone tabletop roleplaying games using the Forged in the Dark rules system based on John Harper's Blades in the Dark from One Seven Design Studio.
In November, Fanlore ran the Fanlore No Fault November challenge: a catch-up event for earlier badges editors missed! The challenge ran from November 16 to 30, with many editors participating and earning badges from previous months.
Accessibility, Design & Technology continued to prepare emails for translation and improved how the download and chapter index menus behave with each other on smaller screens.
Open Doors finished importing Oz Magi, an Oz annual gift exchange, and Stayka’s Saint Seiya Archive, a Saint Seiya archive. They also shared an annual roundup of the fanzine collections created in the last year for fanworks imported through the Fanzine Scan Hosting Project (FSHP) and announced the upcoming import of a Harry Potter archive, PhoenixSong.
In October, Policy & Abuse received 5,061 tickets, setting a record high for the third month in a row. Support received 3,043 tickets. Tag Wrangling wrangled over 600,000 tags, or over 1,380 tags per wrangling volunteer.
In November, the OTW filed an Amicus brief in the United States Supreme Court, arguing that the Supreme Court should clarify the rules surrounding who can challenge a trademark registration application. In a case involving whether someone should own the trademark “Rapunzel” for dolls of the character Rapunzel, the OTW argued that the Trademark Office should consider the interests of the public—including fans—in deciding whether to award private ownership over a word or symbol that may be in the public domain.
Legal also worked with Communications on a news post about recent legislation and have responded to a number of comments and queries on this post and other issues.
IV. GOVERNANCE
Board continued work on annual turnover and meeting with all committees. They made progress on the OTW Procurement Policy and expected to get it finalized soon. They, along with the Board Assistants Team, also continued to work with Volunteers & Recruiting and Organizational Culture Roadmap on the ongoing Code of Conduct review.
Development & Membership has been catching up on post-Drive tasks.
V. OUR VOLUNTEERS
December 5 was International Volunteers Day! As a volunteer-run organization, the OTW would not be possible without the support and diligence of our volunteers. We thank all our volunteers, past and present, for the work they’ve contributed to the OTW.
If you’re curious about volunteering for the OTW, we recruit for various positions on a regular basis, and recruitment will next open in January.
From October 25 to November 22, Volunteers & Recruiting received 287 new requests, and completed 270, leaving them with 63 open requests (including induction and removal tasks listed below). As of November 22, 2025, the OTW has 983 volunteers. \o/ Recent personnel movements are listed below.
New Fanlore Volunteers: Luana and 2 other Chair-Track Volunteers New Policy & Abuse Volunteers: Anderson, Araxie, corr, Aspenfire, Klm, Mothmantic, Nova Deca, vanishinghorizons, and 1 other Volunteer New Tag Wrangling Volunteers: 90Percent Human, Aeon, Alecander Seiler, ambystoma, Astrum, Atlas Oak, batoidea, Bette, Bottle, bowekatan, Bruno, Chaosxvi, Destiny, DogsAreTheBest312, Dream, elia faustus, Ellexamines, Elliott W, Gracey, jacksonwangparty, Jean W, Kalico, Keira Gong, Kiru, lamonnaie, Lavender, Loria, Lucia G, LWynn, Max, Nikki, Nioral, noctilucent, Our Hospitality, Primo, Rie, Salethia, Sapphira, sashene, Schnee, Scylle, sneakyowl, soymilk, Thaddeus, TheCrystalRing, thewritegrump, Water, Wintam, yucca, and 1 other Tag Wrangling Volunteer New Translation Volunteers: 1 Translator New TWC Volunteers: Lys Benson (Copyeditor) New User Response Translation Volunteers: Cesium (Translator)
Departing AO3 Documentation Volunteers: 1 Editor Departing Open Doors Volunteers: Irina, Paula, and 2 other Import Assistants; 1 Administrative Volunteer, and 1 Fan Culture Preservation Project Volunteer Departing Policy & Abuse Volunteers: 1 Communications News Post Moderation Liaison Departing Tag Wrangling Volunteers: Julia Santos (Tag Wrangling Supervisor); blackelement7, pan2fel, and 7 other Tag Wrangling Volunteers Departing Translation Volunteers: weliuona and 2 other Translators Departing Volunteers & Recruiting Volunteers: Alisande and 2 other Volunteers
For more information about our committees and their regular activities, you can refer to the committee pages on our website.
What we call health insurance is a contract. When you get health insurance, you (or somebody on your behalf) are agreeing to a contract with a health insurance company – a contract where they agree to do certain things for you in exchange for money. So a health insurance plan is a contract between the insurance company and the customer (you).
For simplicity, I will use the term health plan to mean the actual contract – the specific health insurance product – you get from a health insurance company. (It sounds less weird than saying "an insurance" and is shorter to type than "a health insurance plan".)
One of the things this clarifies is that one health insurance company can have a bunch of different contracts (health plans) to sell. This is the same as how you may have more than one internet company that could sell you an internet connection to your home, and each of those internet companies might have several different package deals they offer with different prices and terms. In exactly that way, there are multiple different health insurance companies, and they each can sell multiple different health plans with different prices and terms.
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Preface: I had hoped to get this out in a more timely manner, but was hindered by technical difficulties with my arms, which have now been resolved. This is a serial about health insurance in the US from the consumer's point of view, of potential use for people still dealing with open enrollment, which we are coming up on the end of imminently. For everyone else dealing with the US health insurance system, such as it is, perhaps it will be useful to you in the future.
Understanding Health Insurance: Introduction
Health insurance in the US is hard to understand. It just is. If you find it confusing and bewildering, as well as infuriating, it's not just you.
I think that one of the reasons it's hard to understand has to do with how definitions work.
Part of the reason why health insurance is so confusing is all the insurance industry jargon that is used. Unfortunately, there's no way around that jargon. We all are stuck having to learn what all these strange terms mean. So helpful people try to explain that jargon. They try to help by giving definitions.
But definitions are like leaves: you need a trunk and some branches to hang them on, or they just swirl around in bewildering clouds and eventually settle in indecipherable piles.
There are several big ideas that provide the trunk and branches of understanding health insurance. If you have those ideas, the jargon becomes a lot easier to understand, and then insurance itself becomes a lot easier to understand.
So in this series, I am going to explain some of those big ideas, and then use them to explain how health insurance is organized.
This unorthodox introduction to health insurance is for beginners to health insurance in the US, and anyone who still feels like a beginner after bouncing off the bureaucratic nightmare that is our so-called health care system in the US. It's for anyone who is new to being an health insurance shopper in the US, or feels their understanding is uncertain. Maybe you just got your first job and are being asked to pick a health plan from several offered. Maybe you have always had insurance from an employer and are shopping on your state marketplace for the first time. Maybe you have always gotten insurance through your parents and spouse, and had no say in it, but do now. This introduction assumes you are coming in cold, a complete beginner knowing nothing about health insurance or what any of the health insurance industry jargon even is.
Please note! This series is mostly about commercial insurance products: the kinds that you buy with money. Included in that are the kind of health insurance people buy for themselves on the state ACA marketplaces and also the kind of health insurance people get from their employers as a "bene". It may (I am honestly not sure) also include Medicare Advantage plans.
The things this series explains do not necessarily also describe Medicaid or bare Medicare, or Tricare or any other government run insurance program, though if you are on such an insurance plan this may still be helpful to you. Typically government-run plans have fewer moving parts with fewer choices, so fewer jargon terms even matter to them. Similarly, this may be less useful for subsidized plans on the state ACA marketplaces. It depends on the state. Some states do things differently for differently subsidized plans.
But all these different kinds of government-provided health insurance still use some insurance industry jargon for commercial insurance, if only to tell you what they don't have or do. So this post may be useful to you because understanding how insurance typically works may still prove helpful in understanding what the government is up to. Understanding what the assumptions are of regular commercial insurance will hopefully clarify the terms even government plans use to describe themselves. Just realize that if you have a plan the government in some sense is running, things may be different – including maybe very different – for you.
Another unconscious person on public transit. This guy just seemed to be terribly tired, but when he slumped over, he knocked his stuff on the floor. Several times. I kept putting his stuff back, and mentioned him to the drive on my way out.
lmao that the first comic to pop up when I hit the random button on my site was Faye saying "why's there always gotta be new people"
Looking back at this year, I feel like Anh basically took over the comic? It's wild how it's always the unexpected ones who have the most juice. No offense to Ayo, who is also plenty juicy and I also love writing. But Anh's a couple orders of magnitude more of a mess. But THIS comic is about AYO! Who is a delightful little idiot and I can't wait to do more with. OKAY THANKS I LOVE YOU ALL BYE
I will begin this piece noting that I am not unbiased in my thoughts about Moana, as my friend, the Oscar-nominated writer Pamela Ribon, helped write a significant chunk of this film’s story. I found out about her involvement after the fact, namely, by sitting there in the theater watching the credits when the movie was done, spying her name, and saying “Oh, shit! Pamie!” out loud, thereby confusing the friend I went to see the film with. How much Pamela’s involvement in this film raises my estimation of it is difficult for me to quantify, but I can assure you I liked it very much before I knew she was involved with it. So, there, you have my disclosure.
And in fact, I do like Moana very much. It’s my favorite film out of Disney Animated Studios in the last decade, and even (barely) edges out Coco when you include Pixar in the mix (Coco is wonderful, though, you should absolutely see it if you have not). Moana does many things well, both technically and in the story department, but what I like most about it is that, without making an overt fuss about it, it’s the most feminist and woman-forward animated film that Disney Animation has made.
Disney, mind you, has been mining the “girl power” vein for a while, most overtly since the Disney Renaissance era that began with The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast. The Disney canon is so replete with these characters that they’re even their own marketing category within Disney itself: The Disney Princesses. The problem with the Disney Princesses, however, is one clear enough that Disney itself parodized it in a scene from Wreck It Ralph 2: Ralph Breaks the Internet (written — again! — by Pamela Ribon):
Moana is in this scene, but of all the “princesses” in here (not excepting Vanellope!) she is the one whose journey’s intersection with men (and more broadly, with patriarchy) is of a different quality. Men exist in and are even essential to her path through the story, but at every juncture of the story, she is the captain of her own fate. She is continually self-motivating, self-rescuing, and ultimately, the instrument of the story’s resolution in a way that does not depend on a man (it may depend on an ocean, which is never gendered, but let’s not get into that now).
I don’t think Moana, either the film or character, overtly makes a big deal out of any of this — there’s no point where Moana (voiced by a remarkably assured teen named Auliʻi Cravalho) has a story-stopping “girl power” moment, and the only person who explicitly calls out her princess-ness is a dude who does it as a winking fourth-wall crack, and the fact is never really brought up again. Moana’s not rubbing your face in its feminist bona fides. It’s not to say they aren’t there.
In any event, at no point is Moana’s womanhood presented as a disadvantage. She is early on explicitly tapped to be the next leader of the only village on a Polynesian island of no specific provenance (the voice cast of the film is primarily Polynesian, but from varying places in the Pacific: Hawai’i, Samoa, and New Zealand/Aotearoa most prominently). This ascent to leadership is something that Moana accepts with some reluctance, for while her people have lived contentedly on the island for centuries, their antecedents once roamed the waves in big boats, and Moana sees her destiny out there. This fact is a subject of some exasperation to her father, who wants her to focus on where she is.
The issue gets forced when a blight hits the island, killing both the fish and the coconut palms the villagers rely on. This blight, Moana is told by her grandmother, is the result of the trickster demigod Maui stealing the (literal, not figurative) heart of the goddess Te Fiti, inadvertently starting the blight as well as being the cause of the pause in sailing between islands. The good news is, as a baby Moana was chosen by the ocean! For what? Well, as it happens, to leave the island, find Maui, and force him to return the heart of Te Fiti. Simple enough, yes? Well. No.
It does not pass my attention that in this film the initiating problem, and the various obstacles that Moana encounters, originate with men, and the aid and advice she gets is at the hand of the women characters (there is the volcano demon Te Kā, who is coded as a woman, but hold that thought). Again, the film doesn’t dwell on any of this — and both Maui and Moana’s dad have understandable and defensible reasons for what they do — but it’s there. Men in this film, in ways large and small, exist to be routed around and made to understand that they are supporting, not main, characters in this tale.
No one exemplifies this more than Maui, played by Dwayne Johnson in a frankly delightful bit of typecasting. If ever a movie star exuded “main character energy,” it’s Johnson. That same sort of heedless self-regard oozes through Maui, who despite being in exile for a thousand years, settles back into his own internal spotlight the second someone else gazes upon him. That Moana is having none of his guff is neither here nor there to him; she whacks him with an oar with seconds of meeting him and he reacts with mild puzzlement rather than comprehension. His signature song, “You’re Welcome,” is a literal paean to how awesome he is, and it’s perfect that Johnson’s singing voice is, how to put it, deeply imperfect. Maui wouldn’t care if he was off-key. Being on key is for people who aren’t demigods.
But the fact is, this isn’t Maui’s story, it’s Moana’s, and Maui’s journey will be to learn that being of service — the thing he’s always prided himself on — is not about filling the hole in one’s psyche.
Moana’s journey is also one of service — she wants to save her island and her people. She doesn’t know if she can do it, and there are times when she is sure that she can’t, but she is determined to anyway, and besides there is no one else who can do it. She’s learning on the job, so to speak, and what I like about her his that her doubts and fears and acknowledgements of her own deficiencies are right there in her story… and she keeps on regardless, and will do it all by herself if she has to. What saves her, and by extension saves everybody, is her ability to see, not where she has a chance to be a hero, but where she has a chance to heal what has been broken. It’s her story but it’s never been about her, or, rather, just about her.
This is a fairly subtle piece of storytelling — a story where the “big bad” isn’t defeated, or even redeemed, but is restored, from a harm perpetrated long ago. And the hero’s reward? Not riches or fame, or true love’s kiss, or a man in any shape or form. She just gets to go home, with the knowledge there is a home to go back to. This is a hero’s journey, to be sure. But it’s a different hero’s journey than we usually get, and one that I don’t think we often get to see when when the hero is a man. This is what Moana does, that the other “princess” movies up to that point didn’t really manage to do.
(Mulan comes close. But, Shang.)
I think it’s important that, while the film was directed and largely written by people who were not Polynesian, the filmmakers actively consulted and collaborated with Polynesians and Pacific Islanders about the movie, and listened about a number of things, like Maui’s appearance and why Moana wouldn’t be disrespectful regarding coconuts. Likewise, while Lin-Manuel Miranda is the marquee name for the movie’s songwriting, he collaborated with Opetaia Foaʻi, a Tokelauan-Tuvaluan composer and songwriter. I’m not qualified to say that the filmmakers got Polynesia “right” — please listen to others with better knowledge on that score — but at the very least it is good that there was an acknowledgement they were telling a story in a milieu that people currently exist in, and to which they owed respect.
I have not seen Moana’s animated sequel, which came out in 2024 and shoved lots of cash into Disney’s coffers, and bluntly, other than the obvious “for even more money,” I am confused why Disney thinks it’s a good idea to do a “live action” version of the story a mere decade after the animated movie hit theaters (actually, I do have a theory about this — the “live action” remakes of the animated movies serve the same function as re-releasing the classic Disney animated films did before the age of home video: bonding another generation of children to Disney’s character and stories, the better to keep them in the economic chain that continues on to Disney’s theme parks and cruises. Even so). I don’t imagine I will be going out my way to see the “live action” version anytime soon.
But that doesn’t decrease my appreciation for Moana, the original film. Disney doesn’t need me to tell them they got this one right. But they did. Of all the “Disney Princess” movies, this one, in theme and story, is the true queen.
The pearl at my ear is a lacquered grey seed My lips strong red from wind's chaffing I do not feel my middle age as any lessening Here I am, a portrait of myself more vividly
Among old oaks I am still a hot young thing Mind like a swallow sketching possibility on the wing They say uncertainty ferments fear I feel the old familiar thrill of stepping out of known into becoming
Trading Places takes place within the holiday season, with two of the big moments happening on Christmas and New Year’s Eve; does this make it a holiday movie? I suppose it might, although unlike Die Hard and a couple of other films, no one has ever made make a huge stink on the Internet about it. The Die Hard question was solved once they started making Hans Gruber advent calendars, although ironically it is Trading Places that is actually all about someone’s fall, albeit in personal circumstances, not from the top of a skyscraper.
The fall in question is that of Louis Winthrope, a smug young man from old money, played by Dan Ackroyd at his most unctuous. Winthorpe is the classic example of someone being born on third and thinking he’d hit a triple. He’s got a job as a commodities trader at the venerable Duke & Duke firm, has a great townhouse complete with butler (both paid for by his company), and he’s affianced to the sleek-haired Penelope, who looks like she models for the LL Bean catalogue (and as Kristin Holby, who played her, was indeed a fashion model, she may well have). Everything’s coming up Winthorpe!
Until he literally bumps into Billy Ray Valentine (Eddie Murphy, in his second movie role), a fast-talking but not especially successful street con. Valentine’s trying to avoid the police when he collides with Winthrope, and he picks up the trader’s fallen briefcase to return it to him. Winthorpe panics because he’s a soft white man, and screams for the police. Valentine runs into the stuffy private club Winthorpe just came out of, and finds himself arrested; Winthrope, who demands to press charges against Valentine, is hailed as a hero by his fellow finance bros.
None of this escapes the attention of Mortimer and Randolph Duke, the heads of the firm. Randolph in particular believes that Billy Ray’s general misfortune is the product of his deprived environment; Mortimer, the more openly racist of the two, thinks it’s due to race. The two make a wager on it: They will raise up Valentine and humble Winthorpe, and see whether circumstances make the man, or not.
And thus does Winthorpe fall, and hard. And equally, Valentine rises, to become the toast of Philadelphia’s financial elite. obviously, Winthorpe and Valentine are destined to collide again later in the film, as the facts of what has happened to them both, and why, come out.
Trading Places is a very funny movie, but there are lots of very funny movies that don’t end up being the fourth-highest-grossing film of their year, in a year that also has a Star Wars movie (Return of the Jedi) and a James Bond flick (the egregiously-named Octopussy). Funny or not, neither the story nor script of Trading Places is so revolutionary or consistently hilarious that in themselves they should have been expected to be near the top of the end of the year charts.
What Trading Places had going for it was heat, particularly in the form of Eddie Murphy. It’s hard for the couple of generations of adults who know Eddie Murphy from the Shrek franchise and/or a run of undistinguished and indistinguishable comedies in the late 90s and early 2000s to really appreciate just how much of a generational talent Murphy was seen as in the 80s, especially in the first half of the decade. He was to comedy what Michael Jackson was to music (a comparison that doesn’t sound that great here in the third decade of the 21st century, admittedly, but still apt). Trading Places got him on the upswing of that, coming in hot from the critical and commercial success of the film 48 Hours, and from him being literally the only reason people watched Saturday Night Live in the early 80s (sorry, Joe Piscopo).
Murphy was so hot in this era that when he branched out into a pop music career in 1985, his (deeply underwhelming in retrospect) song “Party all the Time” actually went to #2, stopped only by the pop behemoth that was Lionel Richie. Not everything Murphy touched in this era turned to gold (see: Best Defense, or, actually, please don’t), but it took a lot for it not to, and Trading Places was more than good enough on its own.
Also! The film was directed by John Landis, who was himself in the middle of a run of remarkably popular films, starting with Animal House and continuing on through The Blues Brothers and An American Werewolf in London, and Dan Ackroyd, while less white-hot than his director and co-star, had seen a big hit in the Landis-directed The Blues Brothers and had residual audience affection from his SNL days. Jamie Lee Curtis, as Ophelia, the streetwalker who takes pity on Winthorpe, was mostly known as a “scream queen” but was ready to show her range, and her body, in this film. Neither were to be discounted.
Basically, everyone involved would have had to work really hard to fuck this one up. They did not.
More than that, it turned out that Ackroyd’s ability to project smarmy self-satisfaction first contrasted and then meshed perfectly with Murphy’s antic hustle, with Curtis’ surprising warmth grounding the two of them. Landis’s direction doesn’t show the hallmarks of greatness here, but with this cast it didn’t have to; it mostly had to not get in the way. The story hits all the marks in Winthorpe’s and Valentine’s respective fall and rise, their eventual understanding of what’s happening, and their decision to set things right — through insider trading, as it happens. What a gloriously ambiguous way to secure a comeuppance!
But the comeuppance is what we’re here for, and it’s what resonantes in the film, first in the Reagan era and now in our oligarch one, and what makes it a fulfilling rewatch.
Viewers coming new to this film in 2025 or later are hereby put on notice that there are several parts of this film that have aged extremely poorly, none more than the film’s fourth act, which features Dan Ackroyd in blackface, sporting a frankly terrible Jamaican accent, not to mention non-consensual encounters with great apes. This is a recurring curse of 80s comedies, where casual racism/sexism/etc is part of the background radiation of the time.
The flip side of this is that some folks might grump that this is why “you couldn’t make this film today,” which is nonsense, and not true — none of the casual racism, sexism, etc is needed for the story, and could be chucked aside for new and better jokes and writing. The intentional racism of the film, in the form of the Duke brothers and their terrible bet, on the other hand, is at the heart of the tale, and is, alas, as relevant today as it was 40 years ago, now that we have tech dudes running around trying to make eugenics happen all over again.
In fact, it might be time for another filmmaker to take a new swing at the Trading Places concept, this time having it take place in Silicon Valley, with the bet makers being tech bros who wager a single crypto coin, or whatever. I think there would be an audience for seeing some of this new generation of terrible rich people getting theirs at the hands of the people whose lives they are trying to destroy. These days, as in the 80s, you would have to work real hard for that not to be a hit. Set it during the holiday season, too. Let these turkeys get stuffed.
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questionable_content_feed Dec. 9th, 2025 09:21 pm)
