so i went to see Kingsman today with venvephe and traumachu for the first time (well, my first time, their 3rd + 4th times) and i was thoroughly enjoying myself throughout it. it has everything i look for in movies: cool fight scenes that utilize slo-mo, meaningful relationships between dudes with heavily homoerotic subtext, prominent-ass ladies, socioeconomic class conflict, jokes on jokes, suits, accents, umbrellas, etc etc. i couldn’t wait to show more pals and to enjoy this movie with them too…
… until THAT part. you know. the one at the end. (pun un/intended)
at first, i was upset about it for all the obvious reasons - it was unnecessary, gratuitous, objectifying, and just… ugh. i was so upset about it that i couldn’t even enjoy the last otherwise-supremely-satisfying 2 minutes of the resolution. i was so upset that all the good feelings i had about the other 99% of the movie suddenly disintegrated and all i was left with was an unhappy, bitter, “blah”.
(that’s not true. i was yelling about how upset i was about it at traumachu for a while.)
and the more i thought about THAT part, the more upset i got. i think what upset me the most about THAT part, aside from those obvious reasons, was that it said to me, “don’t forget who this movie was really made for.”
it said to me, “you know the past two hours you just enjoyed so much? well, it wasn’t really for you. you’re not the intended audience here.”
don’t get me wrong - i don’t have anything against lady butts. butts are beautiful/bootyful things to be celebrated. i welcome tastefully done nudie parts - pretty much always!
but in the context that THAT part was presented and the way that it was done was in no way tasteful - it was just pandering to its intended audience… which, as i was unsubtly reminded, did not include me.
i enjoyed the prominent-ass ladies, but not the prominent lady ass.
CRAIG: “Holy shit. You know what, I’m not even surprised we got these.” CLYDE: “Well Anon—“
CRAIG: “Don’t you dare.” CRAIG: “I’ll push your damn wheelchair down the stairs Donovan.” CLYDE: “You would not!”
CLYDE: “Sorry anon, I am under difficult circumstances and cannot give you the deet’s.” CRAIG: “That’s what I thought.” CLYDE: “…”
CLYDE: “We fucked and from what I remember it was pretty great. Craig’s a real—“
CLYDE: “mFF— CRAIG: “We are done with the sick questions, got it you freaks.” CLYDE: “mhm!” CRAIG: “I wasn’t talking to you dumbass.” CRAIG: "Also before you sicko’s assume anything—we are NOT an item. Friends and friends only.”
There’s already a lot of meta on parallels in 11.12. So many people have analyzed how Claire’s brokenness is reflected in Dean’s obsession with hunting and how Alex and Claire are blatantly obvious Sam and Dean parallels (with, admittedly, some distinctions as well as some overlap). People discuss the kitchen scene with Dean admitting that he would have benefited from the kind of talks Jody thinks about giving her girls. Those are all important, of course.
What I haven’t seen, however, are analyses of how Jody/Claire (as surrogate mother and sister figures) and John/Dean stack up in their treatment of Alex and Sam. I’m not surprised that I haven’t seen meta like this, because these parallels and contrasts do not reflect favorably on the two oldest Winchesters.
Dean and John (unable or unwilling to support Sam out of fear for him or of him) helped to isolate Sam with unfair ultimatums and impossible standards, feeding his shame and perpetuating his feelings of inferiority in an desperate bid to do what they thought they had to. In contrast, Jody and Claire offered Alex a support system and acceptance of her past, acknowledging her as an individual with the right to choose for herself.
The parallels and contrasts are unflattering at best, but they are also important. This is how Sam should have been treated. Let’s take a look at Sam and Alex’s startlingly similar actions and experiences and compare the shockingly different responses.
The bullet points below contain as much inevitable negativity as you might expect from a meta on this topic. Potential Dean and John criticism beyond this point. ** Proceed with caution.
It took a while, but once she had made her feelings clear to him that day on the balcony, Lavellan never went long without his touch.
He held her hand as he walked beside her through the forests and plains of the Dales, squeezing gently to get her attention, pointing out interesting landmarks and ruins with his staff and telling her their stories.
He laced his fingers with hers when they took the rare quiet evening to themselves at Skyhold, lounging together on her couch as he read to her in front of a crackling fire. He was still holding her hand when she woke later, after they had both fallen into dreaming together.
He rubbed his thumb in small circles over the back of her hand under the table as they sat together at dinner, quietly sharing a moment together as they listened to their friends’ boisterous laughter at another of Varric’s tall tales.
He cradled her marked hand in his palms, fingers deft and delicate as he inspected the glowing wound. “What is it?” she would ask. “Nothing, Inquisitor,” he would answer, a small smile that was somehow sad touching his lips, gone before she had even known she’d seen it.