Category: Reviews

I was recently presented with the opportunity to watch a preview of Far from the Madding Crowd (Australia is slow, I’m sorry) and, when promised a period piece with feminist themes, I couldn’t refuse. I must preface this review by saying that it’s uncommon for me to watch a movie based on a book without first reading that book, but I am yet to read this famous Tom Hardy novel—I blame good intentions and a lack of time.

Time is my primary issue with Far from the Madding Crowd; the movie simply doesn’t use it well or, perhaps, doesn’t use enough. The entire film feels like an abridged version of a longer, more intricate story, jumping between key and well-known plot points without giving enough attention to character development. As such, the audience is unable to form a bond with Bathsheba Everdene and her three suitors—Gabriel Oak the shepherd, William Boldwood the mature bachelor, and Frank Troy the sergeant—or become invested in the relationships that form between them. There are several moments in the movie where I knew a period of time had elapsed between scenes, but it was difficult to determine whether it had been days, or weeks, or even months. This stripped away the significance of each event and caused the story to lack suspense.

The rushed narrative wasn’t the only part of this movie that fell short for me. Early reviews suggested Far from the Madding Crowd was a feminist flick about an empowered female protagonist, but I was disappointed. The opening voiceover by Bathsheba—played by Carey Mulligan—and her refusal to ride side-saddle were a promising start, highlighting her wildness and independence in a time where women were expected to be subservient; however, when she turned down the first of several proposals by suggesting that, if she were to marry, it would be to someone who could tame her, I was bothered.

This is the part of my review that will paint me as a raging feminist, but let me be clear: I’m not against romantic movies where a woman’s sole intent is to marry a man, particularly when those movies are set in a time when that was the societal norm. My disappointment doesn’t stem from Bathsheba’s apparently constant thoughts about men and marriage—contributed to by the movie condensing the events of the source material so that she doesn’t have time to think about other topics—but the fact that Bathsheba denies her interest in such things, claiming independence and female empowerment while failing to enact it.

On the surface, Bathsheba suggests that she could never belong in a world where women are deemed inferior to or different from men, but her actions conflict with this belief. Throughout the film she constantly requires reassurance and opinions from the predominantly male array of characters, particularly Gabriel. She frequently tells him that she needs him, not only for his farming expertise, but also for his ‘objective’ views about her personal decisions.

The scene where Gabriel leaves the Everdene Farm at Bathsheba’s insistence, only to find that she needs him to return to save their flock, has been altered for the movie in a way that further strips Bathsheba of the independence and empowerment she is supposed to exude. When Bathsheba sends another worker to ask for Gabriel to return, he insists that she ask herself; in the movie Bathsheba rides to see him and essentially begs for him to come back to the farm, while my research shows that in the book she simply writes him a letter. This change makes Bathsheba seem more desperate and less distant, sacrificing the character’s independence for the sake of the scene’s visual appeal.

Visuals are the one thing Far from the Madding Crowd does exceedingly well; it is a beautiful film. In the opening scene, the way shadow and light are used to frame Bathsheba is phenomenal. The costume choices carefully tread the line between period and modern, placing the story in a space connected to the source material while still relatable for a contemporary audience. Shots of picturesque landscapes are reminiscent of travel brochures, while images of manor interiors look as though they are taken directly from home décor magazines.

But, while Far from the Madding Crowd makes me want to pack my bags for England, sadly the scenery is not enough for me to forgive the movie’s shortcomings. The film felt rushed and, as a result, failed to construct complex characters or meaningful relationships. I look forward to reading the novel, as I’m certain its epic length will allow for the narrative depth and pacing that this film failed to achieve.

Short fiction has always been the home of the literary adventurers. As a medium, it allows the writer to push the boundaries of ideas and expectation without needing to develop a concept in detail. Pat Cadigan has proven this beautifully with her Hugo and Locus award winning novelette The Girl-Thing Who Went Out For Sushi.

Far from the standard Space Opera or Action Adventure fare, Pat has told the short but touching story about a human named Fry living in an extra-terrestrial environment, whose one desire is to become something other than human. Fry wants to be one of the genetically and surgically enhanced creatures that have begun to colonise the solar system’s other planets; she wants to become a Sushi. This is the story of her impressively extreme transition; raising the question, how far would you go to become who you really are? — a poignant metaphor for gender transformation.

At just under nine thousand words this is a great length story that can be read anywhere. The language is, at first, a little confusing until you develop the context for understanding it, but that small effort is rewarded with one of the best novelettes in recent years.

The Girl-Thing Who Went Out For Sushi is available in the Solaris Books anthology Edge of Infinity

It’s probably the writer in me talking when I say that I’m a sucker for interesting narrative choices and meaningful characterisation, and Sense8 delivers these things in veritable bucket loads. The 12-episode first season takes advantage of its Netflix-supported platform to deliver a visceral, complex, and intelligent experience that I devoured in one sitting.

The show follows the individual stories of eight ‘sensates’ from eight cities with very different life experiences and abilities; these eight characters form a ‘cluster’ who become psychically attuned to tap into one another’s thoughts, senses, and memories as the season progresses. The empathy these characters develop in their deep understanding of one another is extended to the audience, as we feel elated at their successes and devastated by their failures.

Each member of the cluster is able to ‘visit’ the others or ‘share’ one another’s bodies. A sensate that possesses useful skills often takes over another to help them when emotions are running high, particularly in life-threatening situations. The sensates possess a variety of skills—martial arts, weapons knowledge, driving, computer hacking, and chemistry among them—and there is always an audience air-punch moment when you work out who was needed to assist in a particular scene or when things play out as you expected (often with some added awesomeness that you hadn’t even considered). The action sequences in the second half of the season are even more impressive as the sensates start to rack up combo moves, with four or five sensates taking over for different parts of a master plan so that everything runs perfectly.

Air-punching isn’t the only emotional reaction Sense8 provoked in me.  I was incredibly angry for Nomi—a hacktivist and transwoman—when her mother disrespected her and her use of preferred pronouns, was gutted by the sad events composing DJ Riley’s history, and cried tears of joy for Mexican actor Lito’s personal journey. Sense8 prioritises the characterisation of individuals over the season plot arc and, while this makes for some clumsy exposition in places, it shines the spotlight sharply on the shared experiences of these eight totally different yet fundamentally human characters.

Being on Netflix, rather than mainstream television, allows Sense8 to accurately, shamelessly—and sometimes quite graphically—depict the human experience, connecting to the show’s central premise of human connection and empathy.

Sense8 refuses to shy away from topics and images that are generally considered taboo: sexuality and gender diversity, racial diversity, religion, sexual and non-sexual nudity (including incredibly symbolic scenes of babies crowning) and graphic violence. When criminal safe-cracker Wolfgang accidentally visits conservative chemist Kala while he was swimming naked at a bathhouse, his stark, non-sexual nudity reminded me of just how ‘human’ this show is. The openness with which Sense8 includes and explores the primal, natural aspects of the human experience reinforces its attempt to induce empathy.

The empathy fostered by Sense8 also makes it perfect for exploring diversity, and the show certainly makes use of this platform. Of the eight main characters, two—Lito and Nomi—are sexually attracted to their own gender and are in loving, dynamic relationships with fantastic secondary characters. Some viewers have considered these queer characters stereotypical or believe that Sense8 spends too much time focusing on their sexuality rather than other aspects of their characters, but I disagree; while the characters are used as vehicles to explore queer issues—including the journey from shame to pride, reaching self-acceptance, overcoming bullying and oppression, and the impact sexuality can have on families or careers—queer relationships are not given more attention than those relationships that are more commonly seen in the media. I assume that most criticisms about the amount of queer representation and discussion in Sense8 are founded in perception bias, with audiences not used to being exposed to such diversity.

Not only does the show seek to expose audiences to varied sexualities and genders, but it also provides an employment opportunity for gender-diverse actors and actresses to fill these roles. Jamie Clayton, who portrays Nomi, is a transwoman, and her own experiences give Nomi’s story incredible weight and significance.

These behind-the-scenes choices continue to impress. Actors hired for the cast aren’t all from Hollywood, with many having successful careers in Korea or India or Africa, where their characters live. Everything is shot on location—explaining Sense8’s high budget—and extras are sourced domestically, which further contributes to the feeling of authentic diversity that the show produces.

Though a mix of cultures is represented, the characters don’t seem token. For example, there are a wide variety of Indian characters in the show, some religious, some not, some living in India, others having moved elsewhere at a young age, some always in traditional dress, others not, some in arranged marriages, others pursuing love marriages. Kala’s storyline focuses on the difficulty of making decisions for love while navigating family pressures.

There are many other points where the diversity of characters is explored, but also where their underlying similarities are emphasised: each of the eight sensates in the cluster are strong, but in different ways; they have very different families, but most have lost a parent or parental figure; and they experience strange psychic phenomena, but react differently based on their cultural context and personality. It’s been suggested that this diversity might be off-putting for some critics, but for many viewers (myself included) it’s inspiring.

Even with the occasional confusing or neglected plot point, the first season of Sense8 is incredibly intelligent and gives me high hopes for future seasons. There is extensive use of symbolism to add to the already important characterisation of the sensates and secondary characters. In particular, the childbirth scene mentioned earlier depicts each sensate’s first breath: Wolfgang’s water birth reflects his time in the bathhouse, Lito’s birth in front of a television is indicative of his acting career, and Nomi’s c-section places further symbolic distance between her and her mother. The many settings in the show are symbols too, with Woflgang’s Berlin a dark, rainy depiction that reflects how he sees his life, sitting in stark contrast to the bright and colourful San Francisco where Nomi lives. The cuts between characters feeling similar emotions in slums and expensive apartments, prisons and art galleries, further emphasises the external differences but inner similarities of the sensates, and all people.

Sense8 is a slow burn, with some ambiguity in the first few episodes to reflect the confusion of the sensates, and this could be a turn-off for some, but with shows like Game of Thrones (the ultimate slow burn!) at the pinnacle of popularity, many will be able to excuse this. The intelligence of the show encourages the audience to think, rather than simply consume, and to theorise about what might happen next.

I can’t stop thinking about the links between Kala working for a company that creates pharmaceuticals; Korean businesswoman Sun and her father’s involvement in the pharmaceutical industry; African bus-driver Capheus and his desire to buy pharmaceuticals to help his mother live with AIDS; and the impact drugs have had on Riley’s storyline. Surely lines will be drawn between these similarities in the next season’s plot arc?

Sense8 is laced with so many tiny, intricate details that I’m sure there are many more interesting connections that I’m yet to notice and explore. While I’m waiting with bated breath to hear if Netflix will renew the show for season two, I know I won’t be able to resist re-watching these twelve episodes in search of more.