Clone Wars: Restoring magic lost in prequels

Star Wars: The Clone Wars (Cartoon Network)
Where to binge: All six seasons available on Netflix; Season 1 through 5 on Amazon Prime

I went to see Return of the Jedi with my father when it was released in 1983. I owned the original Star Wars trilogy on video cassette. I read Star Wars novels. I owned the Star Wars role-playing game (the one published by West End Games in 1997, not the D20 knockoffs that followed).

The epic, three-part saga about the the rescue of a princess, the return of the last Jedi Knight, the defeat of an Empire, and the destruction of a space station so large it was mistaken for a moon shaped how I looked at stories. I have come back to Star Wars throughout the years, reconnecting with Luke and Leia and Han.

In short, I love Star Wars.

And, as might be obvious from my curriculum vitae above, I dislike the Star Wars prequel trilogy. Most of the fans in my age bracket (i.e. way past 20 years old) were disappointed in the prequels. We felt that George Lucas had traded in heartfelt mythological storytelling for green-screen effects, wooden dialogue, and a confusing, directionless story. Sure, the music was great, and the lightsaber duels were amazing, but Lucas had gone CGI mad, remastering the originals and changing them to paper over continuity lapses between the new films and the old.

And I didn’t like it.

I did, however, like Genndy Tartakovsky, of Samurai Jack and Dexter’s Laboratory fame. He did a tie-in cartoon, called Star Wars: Clone Wars, that covered the years between the second and third movie episodes. It was a fun, exciting, heartfelt romp through epic Star Wars action. The show was hand-drawn, stylistically very similar to Samurai Jack (which I loved) and, hey, it was Star Wars, so that was a plus.

In 2008, LucasFilm Animation built upon the foundation laid by Tartakovsky with their own series, Star Wars: The Clone Wars. I avoided it at the time but kept hearing solid recommendations from people I trusted. When Netflix started to stream the entire run of the show, as well as the previously unaired Lost Missions, it was enough to convince me to watch it.

And, boy, was I glad I did.

The Clone Wars is a computer-animated show that follows Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi in their roles as Generals of the Grand Army of the Republic during the Clone Wars. It has a large cast of well-developed recurring characters, both old and new. The show splits its focus between military action and political manipulation, as it sets up the long, slow fall of the Republic into the grip of the tyrannical Supreme Chancellor Palpatine and his servant and apprentice, Count Dooku.

The Clone Wars tackles the events that take place between Episodes II and III and fleshes out the Clone Wars, the Clone Troopers who fight for the Republic, and the Separatist forces they fight against. Each season is comprised of several long arcs, and each arc builds cleanly upon the last.

Like all good sci-fi, The Clone Wars lets us look at our own world and its issues in a different light. Though there are a lot of space battles and Jedi duels (and the show doesn’t pull any punches on the violence front: named characters are killed on-screen so often I found myself wondering how they managed to show this on Cartoon Network), the real standout aspect of the show for me was its portrayal of the politics of the Republic. The major plot devices were usually things like negotiating treaties, securing bank loans to purchase more troops, and passing laws to deregulate industries. By taking this tack, the show fills in the sizable plotholes in the prequel films, as well as giving it a topical, relevant feeling.

While there are a great many things that the show does well, the most fascinating thing for me was how it handled the Clone Troopers. Instead of the faceless legions depicted in the films, the Clone Troopers are shown as brave and determined, excellent soldiers who are loyal to their cause and to each other. They are all given distinct personalities, and the viewer comes to admire and respect them. They are used to tell stories about what it means to be human, what it means to fight for what you believe in, and how far you are willing to go for a friend.

Despite all the things The Clone Wars does right, it’s not a perfect show. Like the prequel films, many episodes are bogged down by stilted storytelling and hampered by the writers assuming the audience knows things they might not know. There are a few throwaway episodes that were either too weird or too silly to feel like they belonged among the rest. It takes about one full season to really pick up steam, and I don’t think it found its voice until season 3. But once it finds that voice, it is often brilliant. And when it is brilliant, I was very willing to forgive its failings because of how strongly the writer’s love of the franchise shines through the material.

There are six seasons, for a total of well over 100 episodes, so the show covers far more ground than I can hope to address in one review. It is ambitious in its scope, though it sometimes falls victim to that ambition.

But The Clone Wars does something that I didn’t think it could do. It made Star Wars awesome again, and not just the old Star Wars I knew and loved as a boy. It fleshed out the narrative framework of the prequel films in exciting and challenging ways. It brought mysticism back to the Force and heroism back to the Jedi. It makes you fall in love with the Star Wars world and the characters again, and as a fan, thats the strongest praise I can bestow on anything.

Watch it while it’s still streaming on Netflix. It might just make you a fan again, too.

Nostalgia, allegory, and the Star Wars prequels

A friend of mine once stated that if he had a DeLorean time machine, he would travel back to 1997 to stop George Lucas from creating the Star Wars prequels. Conversely, when people ask me about my favorite movie, I always declare Star Wars, as a whole, as the greatest cinematic tale ever told. All six episodes (so far) of the space opera combine to be my favorite movie. My friend and I have a lot of shared interests and are only a few years apart in age. So why is it that we have such different opinions about the prequel trilogy?

The answer was offered, though indirectly, in an episode of How I Met Your Mother. In the episode, Barney Stinson explains the “Ewok line” — the line which determines whether you liked or hated the Ewoks. The Ewoks were the most controversial part of the original Star Wars trilogy, appearing in Return of the Jedi to help bring down the Empire, despite their complete lack of technology and laughably small numbers. As Barney explained, people born after 1973 love the Ewoks — they were under 10 years old at Jedi’s release — while those born before then find the Endorians infuriating. This line, though created to explain disillusionment with Return of the Jedi, works perfectly as an explanation for the problems some fans have with the Star Wars prequels.

I was nine years old when The Phantom Menace was released; my friend was 12. Every single person I’ve ever argued with about the prequels was older than me by at least a year, placing them on the opposite side of this updated “Ewok line.” Most fans of the prequels I’ve met are my age or younger — or didn’t see the originals before The Phantom Menace. The phenomenon is uncanny.

So what is it about turning 10 that changes our perspective about the movies?

To begin with, Star Wars movies are made for the entire family. Each episode can be seen through entirely different lenses, depending on your age when watching. To a child, the Ewoks are adorable and relatable. They’re the biggest underdogs imaginable in a fight with a Galactic Empire, yet they survive. They exist to show us that there is always hope, and even the weakest among us have strength.

The Phantom Menace’s largest controversy was over Jar Jar Binks. To this day, I cannot understand the visceral hatred of the Gungan. Of course, I also watched him when I was a child. To me, Jar Jar was hilarious. There was nothing infuriating about his antics. Sure, Jar Jar was a bumbling fool, but so were the Three Stooges, and everybody loved them.

If you’re older, yes, Jar Jar can be annoying, but then you aren’t the target audience for the character. Jar Jar, even with his diminished role, matures in the films, as does his audience: the fans who were under 10 when The Phantom Menace was released. As one of those fans, I remember finding Jar Jar’s growth into the role of leader to be inspiring. The older audience, however, just can’t get over the problems they had with him when first watching Episode I.

A much larger roadblock to enjoying the prequels, however, is simple nostalgia. Fans who were over the age of 10 when The Phantom Menace was released already had fond memories of the original Star Wars trilogy. Those who saw the movies during the 70s and 80s were especially prejudiced by this fact, as the original movies were part of their childhoods. To them, the original movies were perfect, and the announcement of Episode I was akin to hearing that your dead father was returning from the grave to toss the ball around in the yard once more. It was a chance for these fans to return to a simpler time of life that they’d all grown to miss. To true Star Wars fans, the idea of returning to a galaxy far, far away, was overwhelming.

That kind of nostalgia creates unrealistic expectations. Fans of the original trilogy anticipated a film that would recreate the magic of their youth. That is an impossible standard. Whereas I watched the pod race scene and was left in awe and wonder, older fans saw a long scene about an annoying child. When I watched Darth Maul and Obi-Wan Kenobi duel to the death, it was a struggle between good and evil masters of a mystic martial art, whereas older fans saw an overly choreographed dance with a villain who could never be Darth Vader.

Nostalgia made sure The Phantom Menace didn’t stand a chance, and that resentment carried over to the following movies. Perhaps nostalgia has had the same effect on me, causing me to argue unapologetically for a movie from my own youth. This idea was present in my mind when Episode I was rereleased in 3D a few years ago, causing me to watch the film with a skeptical eye. I re-viewed The Phantom Menace and its two sequels, looking out for those parts of the movie that received the most audible criticism, and I found those arguments to be strongly lacking. In fact, I found even more about the movies to love.

Possibly the biggest criticism of The Phantom Menace is the introduction of midi-chlorians. OK, the idea that the Force was relegated to microscopic bacteria is infuriating — but it’s also not what happened. Midi-chlorians are microscopic lifeforms that exist within all living beings, allowing them to hear the will of the Force. They are not, themselves, the Force but a bridge from more complex forms of life to the simple. They exist more prominently in Force wielders and allow the host to more easily connect with the energy field. They are used only to measure Force-sensitive potential, not actual power. Anakin Skywalker was said to have a higher midi-chlorian count than even Master Yoda, yet at no time in the entire series is Darth Vader shown to be stronger in the Force than the Jedi legend.

Another bogus criticism is that The Phantom Menace lacks a lead character. So does The Avengers, but that doesn’t make it a bad movie. Star Wars movies always have featured ensemble casts. While it’s easy to point at Luke Skywalker as the protagonist of the original trilogy, the movies were just as much about Han Solo and Leia Organa — and the droids probably get more screen time than even Luke. Episode I, like Episode IV, has four primary characters: Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn, and Padme Amidala.

Jinn is the mentor of the movie, taking the role Kenobi filled in A New Hope, guiding the other three characters toward their goals. He helps to teach Amidala to listen to others when making decisions, teaches Anakin about the Force and its potential within him, and pushes Kenobi toward critical thinking, even when dealing with the revered Jedi Order. At the end of the movie, all three young characters fulfill their potential. When Master Qui-Gon meets his untimely demise, Kenobi must quickly rise to the occasion, just as Luke must in Episode IV. Meanwhile, Anakin and Amidala also mirror the actions of their future children, using their wits and luck to bring down the Trade Federation.

Another complaint about the Star Wars prequels is also linked to expectation. Old Star Wars fans remembered a story about a ragtag group of rebels fighting impossible odds and expected to see the same thing in the newer trilogy. However, the prequels were never going to be able to recreate that atmosphere. Instead, these movies are about the downfall of an advanced society and the spiral of a democracy toward tyranny. The entire point of these movies was that evil isn’t always as easy to spot as Darth Vader or the Emperor. Sometimes, the most evil men hide in plain sight.

The brilliance of the prequels is in the rise to power of Emperor Palpatine. Every scene with Palpatine shows his conniving and manipulating on full display, his every move perfectly planned out to push him closer to his goals of domination. When viewed in this light, the prequels become stronger tragic tales about how tenuous our own republic is. They tell the story of how even the mightiest governments can fall when the leaders succumb to the influence of outside power and promises of grandeur.

Anakin’s fall is a great story to tell, even if Hayden Christensen was not the greatest actor to tell it. I will concede that Christensen’s performance in Attack of the Clones took me out of the movie at times, but I can’t say that he didn’t nail the whiny teenager bit. Still, Ewan McGregor’s performance on Kamino is brilliant. The eerie questions surrounding the cloners further pushed the brilliant plan of Palpatine and his minions while leading to the beginning of a war, completely manufactured by a Chancellor striving for power.

The Clone Wars, as shown in the eponymous series as well as Revenge of the Sith, completely change the mentality of the Jedi Order, pushing them into the position of war generals. Palpatine’s genius is shown here as the war acts to distract the Jedi while creating a generation of young adults, like Anakin, who are sick of fighting and are more beholden to the concept of an authoritarian government willing to punish enemies of peace.

Anakin’s behavior and seemingly abrupt shift to the Dark Side makes sense in this context, as we remember that Anakin expressed a belief that even strong-arm tactics are justifiable as long as they lead to a greater good. He sees during the Clone Wars that the Jedi’s pacifistic tactics have only led to continuing battles and death. The Separatists are like petulant children in Anakin’s eyes. They are the minority who must be repressed to make the majority of the galaxy better. And when Anakin is put into the position to choose between the Jedi, who kept the war going, and the Chancellor, who mentored him and helped him to bring an abrupt end to the fighting, he chooses the Chancellor.

Palpatine acts as the snake in the Garden of Eden. He offers Anakin a Faustian bargain, promising to save Anakin’s wife in exchange for his apprenticeship. The Jedi, in Anakin’s view, are limited by their dogma from doing what is right. In this sense, Anakin is a bit of a utilitarian, willing to make questionable decisions for a greater good. He also acts as a reflection on post-9/11 America and its use of questionable tactics in the name of security.

If you are a fan of science fiction, you should watch the Star Wars prequels fairly, without the prejudice in your mind of what a Star Wars movie should be. Lucas created a universe. He gave us a sandbox in which stories old and new could be expressed in a unique way. There is no singular formula to create a Star Wars movie. Therefore, Lucas can make a movie about space pirates and rebels, or he can write an allegory about how easily democracy can crumble.

Now that the reins have been passed on to J.J. Abrams, I look forward to seeing how the Star Trek director plays with Lucas’ sandbox. I, however, will not hold him to impossible expectations about what a Star Wars movie should be. I will not be angry if an old sage proves to be a tremendous swordsman, or if a collection of tribal bears brings down a war machine. I will be happy with the story that is being told to me, and I will be thankful that Lucas was willing to hand over his creation to a new generation of artists to continue his work.

I look forward to every story that can be told in the galaxy far, far away, and I hope you will join me in theaters in December 2015 for the next chapter in the Star Wars saga.

Savor spring with elegant Sauvignon Blanc

Now that we’ve actually had some spring weather in the Northeast, it’s as good a time as any to try some Sauvignon Blanc.

Many wine drinkers tend to gravitate toward opposite ends of the spectrum — for example, red wine drinkers might prefer full-bodied, powerful wines like Cabernet Sauvignon from California or Australian Shiraz, while others prefer softer, elegant Pinot Noir. Likewise, white wine enthusiasts generally prefer round, full-bodied Chardonnays, or they go for light, zippy wines like Riesling. As a result, Sauvignon Blanc ends up underappreciated (and usually priced well).

Like most wines, Sauvignon Blanc expresses different qualities depending on where it is grown. Old World offerings from France offer a wide range: they can be sweet, as in the dessert-style wines of Sauternes; dry and fruity from Bordeaux; or floral, smoky, and mineral from the Loire Valley and Pouilly-Fumé.

In the New World, New Zealand tends to be viewed as the current favorite for Sauvignon Blanc (though that trend may be starting to fade slightly). The dead giveaway of a Sauvignon Blanc from that island country is a fresh-cut grass aroma, combined with grapefruit and other tropical flavors. The wines can also tend to be “green” or “vegetal” in their flavor profiles, including tastes like cucumber, bell pepper, and even asparagus. This will no doubt turn some wine drinkers off, but can also make a wine even more interesting and appealing.

In the United States, there is plenty of Sauvignon Blanc from California. These wines can exhibit the tropical fruit flavors like those found in bottles from New Zealand, but they sometimes lack the grassy component. You will no doubt find Sauvignon Blanc from Washington state as well, and from a few producers in the Finger Lakes.

The Sauvignon Blanc from Finger Lakes producer Ravines is an outstanding example, with lychee and floral aromatics on the nose and some very refreshing lime, grapefruit, and tropical fruit flavors that slide right into an interesting chalk characteristic and a sharp, acidic mineral finish.

If you want to see what all the New Zealand hype is about, try the Mount Nelson Sauvignon Blanc. The grassy component is there, but not heavily so, and it has good depth of flavor, with grapefruit, lemon, tart apple, and minerality throughout. Like the Ravines, the Mount Nelson has great acidity on the finish.

Sauvignon Blanc can be pretty light and elegant, which lends to pairing with light, simple dishes. Goat cheese, light seafood dishes, and salads pair beautifully, but to be honest, just take a bottle out on the deck and enjoy the weather.

Swirl, sniff, sip.

Taking time to build a solid S.H.I.E.L.D.

Spoiler warning: This column discusses recent plot details for Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Proceed with caution.

In this day and age, a slow build can mean death for a television show. Consumers and viewers expect immediate gratification. New technology gives audiences access to all kinds of products and information, right at their fingertips, and they’ve developed the same expectations for their television shows.

As a result, most shows need to be smash hits right out of the gate. Others tantalize us as they seem to be building up to speed, only to never quite get there. I myself tend to have a hard time giving up on TV shows I believe could still improve. (Two years in and I’m still hoping Revolution will live up to its potential, though the likelihood of it seeing a third season is very slim.) Occasionally though, my patience pays off in a big way. There is a third type of show that takes time to build a back story or corrects early mistakes before it hits its stride. This is the case with two of my current favorite shows on television.

I know I’ve mentioned previously in this column my love for all things related to superheroes. That’s one of the reasons why I didn’t even think twice about watching Arrow when it premiered last year. Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. was also a no-brainer for me; I will watch anything and everything that takes part within the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU). Each of these shows was a little slow getting off the ground but is now proving that my patience and loyalty were definitely worth the wait.

While I had little in the way of expectations for Arrow, which I will discuss next week, I was very excited for the premiere of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. However, the show started out much slower than I had expected. For as much as I love the MCU, I was a little taken aback when I didn’t immediately love S.H.I.E.L.D. Sure, I liked it well enough, but it wasn’t as amazing as I was expecting right off the bat.

Judging from a lot of fan reactions I read the first couple of weeks, I wasn’t the only one. I had to remind myself that, although this was a Marvel show, it was also a Joss Whedon show, which meant I just needed to have a little patience. One thing fans of Whedon have learned by now is that, quite often, you have to give the man room to stretch his legs and find his footing when it comes to a television series.

For example, I enjoyed the first season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but the show didn’t really start hitting its stride until season 2, when Angel‘s transformation into the evil Angelus really raised the stakes (no pun intended) for the series. Suddenly, actions had very real — and sometimes devastating — consequences. Similarly, I believe season 2 of Dollhouse was much more cohesive than the first, though a large part of the problem with season 1 was Fox’s meddling with Whedon’s vision of the series.

Given this track record, it’s no surprise that S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t necessarily hit the ground running. There’s also the fact that the show had to build nearly every character and their relationships from the ground up. Yes, the series was taking place in the MCU, which Marvel fans are all familiar with — and it was bringing back fan favorite, Agent Phil Coulson — but the rest of the cast was entirely new. It took time to develop the characters and for them all to trust each other.

While each episode had its moments — Coulson is the king of the one-liners — it wasn’t until the sixth episode, “FZZT,” that the characters really felt like they were starting to gel with each other. This episode saw the team coming together to try to save Simmons from the Chitauri virus. This was also the first time any of the characters really demonstrated any growth or change, as Fitz, originally one of the most timid members of the team, was prepared to jump out of a plane to save his partner. Instead, Ward took the leap for him and cemented the team’s trust — which, as it turns out, wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

From then on, each character seemed to grow individually and as a part of the team. Fitz and Ward spent some time bonding on their own mission, and Simmons and Skye got closer as they worked together in the Hub. Even May slowly started warming up to the rest of the team. Each episode seemed to raise the stakes a little higher, as we learned more about Skye’s background, the T.A.H.I.T.I. project, and the Clairvoyant. Then the show really kicked into overdrive just before Captain America: The Winter Soldier hit theaters.

The last episode before Winter Soldier was appropriately titled “The End of the Beginning” — and little did we know how true that title would be: this episode marked the end of S.H.I.E.L.D. as we knew it. The episode led directly into Winter Soldier, as Agent Sitwell left Coulson’s team and ended up being held hostage before being rescued by Captain America early in the movie. We had been told there would be a tie-in between Winter Soldier and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., but I think most fans were probably expecting a nearly inconsequential one, similar to when the agents had to help clean up London after the events of Thor: The Dark World. However, Marvel had something else entirely in mind. Winter Soldier saw the destruction of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the “death” of Nick Fury — both events that naturally had a huge impact on Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

This is where all those fans who gave up on S.H.I.E.L.D. after just a few episodes are now missing out on one of the best comic books shows you could possibly ask for. S.H.I.E.L.D. followed Winter Soldier with “Turn, Turn, Turn,” one of the best episodes of the season. The events took place nearly simultaneously with the end of Winter Soldier, as Hydra emerged and revealed its corruption of S.H.I.E.L.D. The entire episode was perfectly constructed — and then the unthinkable happened. One of the last people we expected to be a double agent — in fact the very character who was our entry point into the world of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. — showed his true colors as a Hydra agent.

Every episode since then has lived up to every expectation I would have for a show taking place in the MCU. It’s been a roller coaster ride in which we’ve learned the hard way you can’t trust anyone. And the hits just keep on coming. Coulson’s unshakable calm has slowly been chipping away ever since he learned the truth about T.A.H.I.T.I. (hint: it’s not a magical place), and that culminated in a near-breakdown while searching for one of Fury’s secret bunkers — one of Clark Gregg’s best performances to date. In this week’s episode, we finally learned the identity of the agent who was heading up the T.A.H.I.T.I. project, and once again, minds were blown.

I really feel sorry for all those so-called Marvel fans who gave up on S.H.I.E.L.D. because they are now missing some truly great television. The last five episodes in a row have been one-hour films; it’s been intense in the best possible way, and there are still two episodes left this season. This is the show I expected to see when I tuned into the first episode back in the fall, and I’m so relieved I never gave up on it, because these last few episodes were definitely worth the wait.

Next week, I’ll Fan Out over another show that has improved since its first episodes, Arrow. If you’ve already given up on S.H.I.E.L.D. or Arrow — or have never even seen an episode — then you might want to give them a chance over the summer. Whether it’s a second chance or your first time viewing, you may be pleasantly surprised.

Derby brings out Modern Southern Gentleman

This Modern Urban Gentleman is decidedly Yankee. Nonetheless, his recent nonstop schedule, filled with many New York minutes, has this gentleman looking forward to the weekend’s annual celebration of Southern gentility: the Kentucky Derby.

Some would apparently argue that Kentucky is not properly Southern. From this Pennsylvanian perspective, the home of bluegrass, bourbon, and Colonel Sanders could be nothing other than the heart and soul of the South. And for this one weekend, we northern gents are free to appropriate the attire, the cuisine, and the airs of our southern compatriots.

The Derby is an unapologetic excuse to throw a Southern-themed party. It’s not hard to fry up whatever protein — catfish, chicken, steak — is in the vicinity, but any proper gentleman will want to have some key details correct as he settles in for a long afternoon of sipping and basking in the mid-spring sunshine. And what better way to enjoy those rays of warmth than in the outfit seemingly created for this very event: the seersucker suit.

In truth, seersucker has its roots in India, where British colonials needed a breathable fabric to stay cool while still preserving that stuffy aura so essential to being a Brit. The word is from kheer aur shakkar, meaning “rice pudding and sugar.” That evocative description is apt for a material that puckers to raise it away from the skin and allow airflow.

Not surprisingly, the material became a hit among the lower class of the American South, where the ability to blend with the aristocracy was valued, and the relatively inexpensive seersucker could be fashioned into suits for the poor. In a proto-hipster move, the monied youth of the South began wearing seersucker ironically, and it became de rigueur for all classes.

From the days of Atticus Finch through the early 2000s, a man in a seersucker suit might have been laughed out of his yacht club north of the Mason-Dixon. But the last decade has brought a reborn seersucker to hip urban gents. With muted hues, sleeker lapels, and a tighter silhouette, the seersucker suit is becoming a viable summer garment.

The Modern Urban Gentleman last year purchased the Ludlow suit in Japanese seersucker from J. Crew. When properly accessorized, with navy or washed-out hues and brown shoes, a fabric that used to be a bold proclamation is instead an understated, elegant, office-ready warm-weather option. That makes it a worthwhile investment.

But for Derby time, understated goes out the window. The proper swagger of a Derby-ready gentleman requires a seersucker suit with all the bells and whistles. This means a statement bow tie (but no red — too Pee Wee), white or off-white bucks (no socks), and a boater. Add a rose boutonniere since this is, after all, the Run for the Roses.

A word on those shoes: the Modern Urban Gentleman is quite satisfied with his Florsheim Men’s Kearny Oxford, now seemingly available only in taupe; find something along these lines to root the suit. Bucks are made of nubuck or suede leather, which require serious care. If it rains on the Derby parade, find alternative footwear. Also, invest in a suede brush for various soft leather shoe needs.

Of course, no party is a party without lubrication. Luckily, each of the Triple Crown races has an official cocktail, and none is more storied than the Derby’s mint julep. Its archaeological record traces to at least 1784, and the drink was introduced to our nation’s capital by Sen. Henry Clay of, unsurprisingly, Kentucky.

The mint julep has four essential ingredients: mint leaf, bourbon whiskey, sugar, and water. Spearmint is the mint of choice, but others can be substituted based on local availability; freshness is the primary factor here. The brand of bourbon is open to personal preference, though the corporate-bought “official” choice of the Derby, Woodford Reserve, is an excellent option. For the recipe, refer to Esquire’s fine rendition, but don’t be afraid to experiment and find a personal method as the afternoon drifts by.

As for the race itself, do a bit of homework. Tune in to the NBC Sports Network at 5 Eastern this evening to learn the post positions and begin deciding which horse’s name sounds most bad-ass. Or, for the more serious, look into the real factors that may determine the winner. Keep in mind that a horse with good odds will probably win; no one is going to become a millionaire on a long shot. Most importantly: only risk what a gentleman can afford to lose.

The 2014 Kentucky Derby post time is 6:24 p.m. EDT. If a gentleman’s party is successful, that hour will arrive in a sunburned, intoxicated haze. The race is truly an afterthought. Concentrate instead on the fine drinks, the finer suits, and the company of friends on a beautiful May afternoon.

Season 7, Episode 3: ‘Field Trip,’ part 3

Gentlemen, I’ve been lying in wait for something to spark my analytic powers. As I watched “Field Trip,” the minutes flew by and I was rapt by the unfolding drama, but I was confounded by its duality. Why link Don and Betty now? And what really linked the stories in this episode, besides each character taking a titular field trip (or two, in the case of Don going to California and the equally foreign offices of SC&P)?

In my listless drifting in the days since the episode aired, I must admit I’ve taken a peek at some of our peers’ reviews of this episode (you know: GQ, Rolling Stone, The New York Times — the other outlets on our level). Doing so reminded me that either we were all right in high school when we thought our teachers were imparting unintended motives and themes onto long-dead authors’ works, or Mad Men is the genius of a modern-day Shakespeare, Poe, or Steinbeck, playing out right before our eyes.

I’ve been right there with many of the ideas picked up on by the wider critical viewing audience in the first two episodes of the year, but I felt far out of step this week. While I couldn’t latch onto a single solid theme, other’s found countless angles to analyze here: Megan’s confident handling of Don contrasted with her desperation in show business; Peggy’s lingering grudge toward Don, the roots of which have all but receded into nothingness; Joan’s shifting allegiance to Jim from Don; Harry’s scorched-earth approach; Roger’s ever-erratic behavior forcing his partners’ hands once again; Don’s admission to Megan that he didn’t want her to see him in a certain negative light.

It became evident to me that there was so much going on in this episode that my true struggle was figuring out where to put my focus. Even the smallest details have been called out as literary devices: Bobby trades away Betty’s sandwich while, back in Manhattan, Don eats a chicken salad on rye. I feel paralyzed by the sheer volume of significance in each action, camera shot, word, or gaze.

As I said earlier, nothing confounded me more than the continued saga of Betty Hofstadt Draper Francis. She seems an afterthought to the main narrative at this point. I came around to the view that she is being used as the backdrop to illuminate the personalities of the Draper children, to showcase their reflection of their father’s traits and the psychological damage he has inflicted on them. After all, that seemed to be the trajectory of Sally’s story last week. But Bobby has had less opportunity to be disappointed by his father. Instead, it’s Betty’s imperialism that continues to reign over the poor boy. I don’t see this week’s edition as Bobby-as-Don, but as yet another exploration of Betty.

I’ve come to believe the writers feel they owe Betty’s character some closure. I feel the show could have packed her away with the divorce, giving us the occasional cameo when Don had to pick up the kids. Instead, we got Fat Betty, and fish-out-of-water-in-the-Village Betty, and now Betty on the Farm. Her maternal abilities were called out this week, and she responded by chaperoning a field trip — a chance at character development that would edge us toward that closure the writers may be seeking. Instead, Betty showed herself again to be unable to perceive the love being thrown at her by Bobby. Instead, Betty showed herself again to be more concerned with being perceived as a good mother than with being one.

Coming out of this episode, I can clearly see the progressive strides Don has made over the course of a decade. It seems that those around him are either trapped in their unhappiness, like Betty, or veering off the tracks, like Roger, Peggy, and Megan. I fear for the health of the people around Don, not the man himself. I also fear for myself as I try to keep up with the brilliance and the layers of meaning packed into each hour of this program each Sunday night.

Season 7, Episode 3: ‘Field Trip,’ part 2

One of Kevin’s questions — what was the point of the Betty Francis story arc — seems to be the most pressing issue to come out of Mad Men 7.3. The scenes with Betty and Bobby were frustrating in their blandness. It’s a stretch to find much meaning in any of those scenes, but Kevin’s comparison of Bobby to a young Dick Whitman, and Betty to Don’s childhood caretakers, seems apt.

More than anything, I was frustrated at the continued waste of potential for the Betty character. January Jones has always taken her lumps for her portrayal of the former Draper family matriarch. But since her and Don’s divorce, Betty has had almost no meaningful story to tell. The ill-fated weight gain story arc from a few seasons ago was as laughable as the (digital?) fat suit required to show it. The only time I’ve been interested in Betty as a character was when she and Don briefly rekindled their relationship while out of town visiting Bobby’s camp.

I’m left to wonder if this show has anything left in the tank for Ms. Francis. I assume we’ll continue to plod through a few more painstaking episodes about her lack of maternal nature. Sadly, it’s a pretty tired storyline.

This episode did bring us the return of something I had missed: Don in the workplace. His awkward visit to SC&P, culminating with a caveat-filled return to duty, felt like the freshest breath of the season so far. I’m enjoying the slow-burn pace of the season, but let’s get to it: we need to see Don back in action!

He didn’t have much to do once there, as Roger didn’t feel it necessary to show up at the office before noon or tell any of the other partners about Don’s imminent return. It was fun to see Don’s brief interaction with Lou, and now that we know Don will be reporting to SC&P’s newest creative director, I can’t wait to see how it unfolds.

We know Don will take up space in Lane Pryce’s old office. I thought that was a particularly cold move by the remaining partners and surely, as Kevin mentioned, the red herrings could soon be flying as we’re left to wonder if Don is headed down the same road as our dear, departed Lane.

I still don’t think so. Don’s road to redemption has been bumpy and I’m still not sure if that’s the direction he’s headed. But there is still hope. The drinking has slowed. The womanizing has, too; we actually see Don in this episode take a pass on a string-free rendezvous with a mysterious blond at a restaurant. If you’re keeping score, that’s two women who’ve thrown themselves unsuccessfully at Don this season — maybe the man really is changing!

I thought Don showed some maturity by flying to California to check in on Megan, but that didn’t go very well. I think the writing is on the wall for that couple. Divorce is in the cards. I just fear that, with Megan’s increasingly erratic behavior, she may be the one to hit rock bottom long before Don does.

Feminism does not preclude common courtesy

The modern notion of chivalry (in contrast to its historical roots) prescribes certain ways a gentleman should behave toward a lady. The heavily implied traditional gender roles within this code of conduct can cause discomfort in feminist spheres. I don’t need a man to open a door for me or pull out my chair at the dinner table. Nonetheless, a rejection of an antiquated rulebook doesn’t mean there’s no place in society for a little kindness.

Regular subscribers to Curiata.com will know we recently spent some time in New York City covering the Tribeca Film Festival. Well, in reality, the hubs covered the film festival while I did other fun things, like check out the exhibits at the Museum of Moving Image in Queens, visit great coffee shops like Kaffe 1668 in the Financial District (their mascot is a sheep!), and hang out at La Casita Yarn Shop over in Brooklyn.

Over the course of the weekend, I had many opportunities to reflect on the interactions of the vastly diverse population of the largest metropolis in the country. There is no greater equalizer in New York than the subway. Nonetheless, there are rules of etiquette, some written, some not, that have become woven into the social contract of sharing such a small, enclosed space, hurtling at high speeds, with hundreds of your closest friends.

Despite having a rigorous festival schedule, Mike and I still made time for breakfast in the morning and a very late dinner. On Saturday morning, we boarded a relatively busy downtown subway to Chelsea. The train seats were full, so I had to stand. Normally, this doesn’t bother me; I don’t expect anyone to give up their seat for me. I am an able-bodied, healthy, non-pregnant female. As a good, equality-loving feminist, I do not think I am entitled to a seat just because I am a woman. In fact, not 24 hours before, I had relinquished my seat to a lady who was very pregnant and looked extremely uncomfortable in any position she was in.

Two seats opened up at the next stop, and two young men, I’d say between 18 and 25 years old, practically ran to fill the seats. I was slightly annoyed that they didn’t even look around to see if there was anyone else who might need those seats instead. The gentleman I was standing in front of saw the whole thing happen; he looked up at me, stood, tapped me on the shoulder, and told me to sit down.

This man appeared to be close to or in his 50s, and I would have never expected him to give up his seat for me. I thanked him, but said it wasn’t necessary — I could stand. He insisted, saying he “needed to stretch [his] legs anyway.” Not wanting to make a scene or be rude, I slid into the seat and pondered what had just happened.

Karma has a way of working itself out. At the very next stop, a family of five boarded the train. The three children were young but too big to be in a stroller. I’d say they were between the ages of 5 and 9. They stepped onto the train and stood in front of the two ruffians who almost mowed me over to get to those seats. As the train departed the station, the littlest one was having a hard time standing on a moving subway. (In her defense, it is a very hard skill to master, and I’m still amazed by the people that don’t need to hold on to the bar and are instead in some mystical “rail surfer” stance.) The mom stared down the two guys in the seats so hard that they finally succumbed to mom powers and gave up their seats for the kids.

All of this is a long way of saying: just because I’m a feminist doesn’t mean that I don’t expect a certain level of what some might call “chivalry.” I put that in quotes because I know there are people out there who think that these acts are just common decency, and perhaps they are right. That certainly puts me at odds with some feminists who feel the need to lecture anyone who would extend a courtesy to a woman. I’m afraid that sort of feminism only adds to the antagonism and unhappiness that brings us all down.

When someone holds a door for me, I say thank you. I’ve outgrown the need to make a statement about how “my arms aren’t broken and I can get it myself.” (On the flip side, however, if someone lets a door slam in my face, I do give them a snarky, “Thank YOU!” once I get through the door.) I think that this decency goes both ways. I will hold the door for you; I don’t care if you are male, female, or transgender.

I realize that there are rude people in this world, and let me tell you, they are everywhere. I’ve run into them in NYC, Philadelphia, Kansas, and even Curiata.com’s home base, south-central Pennsylvania. I do, however, have a suggestion. Why don’t we all just try to be kinder to one another, regardless of gender, age, race, sexual orientation, or gender identity?

Perhaps, by being polite, we may be able to move mountains on the path to equality. “Please,” “thank you,” and “excuse me” may not solve all of our inequality problems, but they sure will make the world a lot more pleasant while we try to sort it all out.

Season 7, Episode 3: ‘Field Trip,’ part 1

A panel of viewers here at Curiata.com will engage in a roundtable discussion following each episode of Mad Men’s seventh and final season. Check back throughout the week for new entries in the series.

Sometimes, analyzing an episode of Mad Men is, well, maddening. The show can be furiously uneventful at times — or, at least, hard to understand. The third episode of the final season was one in which a few things happened, but a lot of things were hard to make sense of. For example, what was the point of the entire Betty Francis story arc?

Betty has been a strange character since her divorce from Don. There’s really no reason to follow her outside of her interactions with her ex-husband. So after spending the day trying to figure out the thought process of the writers, I’ve come to the conclusion that the episode was meant to be an illustration of Don’s history and future, using his two wives to show how he has grown as man.

“Field Trip” followed Don’s struggles with Megan and his ex-wife’s problems with Bobby Draper. Bobby can be seen as a stand-in for a young Dick Whitman, as Don has shown several times throughout the show how much he sees himself in his son. The interactions between Bobby and Betty make more sense in this context.

Bobby is a good kid dealing with a parent who is petty and childish. He tries his best to show his mom how much he loves her, only to receive a severe response to a youthful mistake. In fact, Betty wasn’t simply mad about his error, but she viewed it as a personal attack, as though Bobby was going out of his way to hurt her.

This attitude was also on full display recently from Peggy Olson, who attacked her secretary for attempting to be kind. Peggy saw it as a personal attack, rather than an honest attempt by Shirley to do right. And where did Peggy learn to think this way? From her old boss, Don Draper, who learned it from his abusive father and stepmother.

Despite Don running from everything in his previous life as Dick Whitman, it seems he still found comfort in a woman like Betty, who is cold and emotionally abusive, like his own parents — though admittedly not as extreme. Betty’s behavior serves as a reminder of the man Don used to be, when he would berate those who dared to challenge him. Conversely, in his storyline with Megan, we see how much Don’s attitude has changed.

Megan’s behavior dealing with a Hollywood director seems as childish as Betty’s sentiments toward Bobby. Don, who would slam the behavior of Betty or Peggy in the past when they did something to disagree with him, treated Megan with respect, trying tactfully to address her actions and finally being honest with her about the mistakes he’s made. It seems as though Don’s evolution into a more honest man is continuing, even if it hurts the people he loves. But now that Don is back at work, we are left to wonder if Don will revert to his old attitudes. Does habitat truly play a role in our behavior?

The questions going forward are numerous. Are Don and Megan going to get a divorce? Will this lead to Don finally finding happiness with a more mature woman? Or perhaps Don moving into Lane Pryce’s office is foreshadowing the finale of the series, and Don’s second divorce will lead him to finally hit rock bottom, both figuratively and literally.

Whedon’s In Your Eyes about escapes, bonds

Joss Whedon’s latest creation, In Your Eyes, premiered last week at the 2014 Tribeca Film Festival. This film is the sophomore production of Whedon’s film studio, Bellwether Pictures, formed with his wife, Kai Cole, in 2012.

Fans of Whedon will remember Bellwether was created as a way to bring his unique and wonderful rendition of Much Ado About Nothing to the big screen. After seeing Much Ado in theaters twice, downloading the original score, and purchasing the Blu-ray Disc, I had high expectations for In Your Eyes. However, it’s unfair to compare the two films, as many reviewers have done so far.

In a role reversal from Much Ado, in which Whedon brought Shakespeare’s words to life, the man behind Buffy penned In Your Eyes and then turned the direction over to Brin Hill. While I’m a huge fan of Whedon’s writing, little can come close to the Bard himself. Comparing the quality of the two stories is, by extension, a silly proposition. Instead, In Your Eyes stands on its own as an interesting meld of science fiction and romance story. I don’t consider myself particularly well-versed in the genre of sci-fi, and this film was much more understated than the sci-fi I have watched in the past.

The plot focuses on Dylan (played by Cloverfield’s Michael Stahl-David) and Rebecca (played by Ruby Sparks writer and star Zoe Kazan) who live on opposite sides of the country, in New Mexico and New Hampshire, respectively. These two characters’ minds have been linked since childhood, allowing them to “tap in” and see the world, literally, through each other’s eyes. The connection was suppressed through their teenage years, manifesting only as vague feelings and impressions. But now, as adults, they have established a direct line to each other, enabling them to communicate at will.

Through his screenplay, Whedon created a world where the characters and story of Rebecca and Dylan were more important than any weird, mind-meld thing that was going on. That is to say that science fiction provided a frame to connect the characters, much in the same way that the setting or music might accent the plot — as a device to help tell the story. Interestingly, the screenplay never offers an explanation for the link, but honestly, that doesn’t bother me. In fact, leaving the reason for their connection unaddressed reflects how unimportant the sci-fi aspect really is. There are times when it’s better not to wrap everything up in a bow for the viewers, and I think this is one of those times.

When you look at the basics of the plot — boy and girl live 2,000 miles apart, but have a strange connection where they can look through each other’s eyes — it is easy to see how the director plays a critical role in making smooth transitions between worlds and helps the audience feel at ease with those transitions. Hill’s brilliant direction accomplished just that. I had to keep reminding myself that Rebecca and Dylan had never met in real life. Stahl-David spoke with Curiata.com on the red carpet prior to the premiere and discussed some of the measures Hill took to make the unusual interactions feel so real, even if it meant delivering lines to Kazan while hiding under a sink or a stool, off-camera. In the end, the result was seamless.

While all of the cast was amazing, one actor particularly stood out for me. Stahl-David’s portrayal of Dylan was so honest and heartwarming, it’s hard to see how he won’t win over audiences with this performance. Throughout the movie, we see Dylan struggling to fit in a place where he doesn’t quite belong. He’s a good guy who fell into a bad crowd. Dylan did jail time for some small-time crimes and is trying to make a new life for himself without ostracizing his long-time buddies who seem to be more interested in their next heist than in giving Dylan the support he needs.

Stahl-David brings out all the qualities of Dylan that make us root for him to escape the black hole of this corner of New Mexico. The allure of the local beer-drinking, pool-playing beauty Donna, played by Twilight alumna Nikki Reed, adds to that challenge.

Kazan also wonderfully plays a tortured soul, trapped in a suffocating marriage with a husband who is a doctor, convinced that his wife is in need of extreme treatment for mental health problems. (Husband Phillip Porter is played by Mark Feuerstein, who joked during the post-premiere question-and-answer session that he appreciated the chance to extend his acting range — from a doctor with good bedside manners to a doctor with bad bedside manners.)

There have been some less-than-stellar reviews of the film, including one that called Whedon a tad chauvinistic to have Dylan traverse the country to save Rebecca from peril. In light of my other work as a sensible feminist, I have to say that I think that Dylan traveled to save Rebecca because that is what that character needed to do, not because Whedon was trying to make a commentary on traditional gender roles. As matter of fact, Whedon has a proven track record of doing quite the opposite.

I was rooting for Dylan to get out of New Mexico because, no matter how hard he tried, it was evident that he was going to slip back into his old ways if he stayed where he was. Rebecca, on the other hand, had her own demons, but if she would have left her life in New Hampshire to rescue Dylan, it would have felt a bit heavy-handed, preachy, and out of character. And the chauvinistic analysis overlooks the fact that there were several times when Rebecca did rescue Dylan, albeit through advice and emotional support rather than physical presence.

In Your Eyes, although not destined to be a box-office smash like Whedon’s The Avengers, is still a beautiful film — and an intentional karmic balance to the blockbusters Whedon is now involved in. In pursuit of the mission of Bellwether Pictures, Whedon announced in a taped message played after the world premiere that In Your Eyes would be available for immediate download as a rental.

This decision is a step toward Bellwether’s goal to bring small budget films to the masses without the cumbersome expense of a traditional release. All too often, small budget films are unable to break through to the mainstream, leaving a hole in the landscape of film-as-art for the general public. Hopefully, if this new release method succeeds, we will see other companies trying the same model, inspiring more independent filmmakers and getting those films both made and seen.

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