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it's all in my head - Post a comment
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May 2024
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Here, Westworld seems to be setting itself up as yet another prurient, cynical, dispiriting show. Specifically, the series is steeped in themes of sexual violence, almost exclusively toward women—through both overt instances and in the very implication of its premise. The park’s guests want sexbots—passive and pliable women whose consent is at best male-programmed, and at worst, and most often, utterly inconsequential. These fantasies are presented with premium cable’s usual “we can show sex” leering—and the kind of lazily telegraphed sociology that Game of Thrones hides behind when it gets criticized for its own frequent rape scenes. Don’t you see? These shows are showing us terrible things because the people are terrible. That lame excuse doesn’t even apply to Westworld’s more ingrained, more pervasive problem: its inherent love-hate, lust-scold relationship to the literal objectifying of most of its female characters. The first two episodes of the show don’t really give one much hope on this front. Evan Rachel Wood and Thandie Newton both play hosts, and both Wood’s sweet ranch girl Dolores and Newton’s saucy prostitute/madam Maeve are brutalized in casual, ugly fashion. (This is sold as entertainment to Westworld’s guests, and to Westworld’s audience.) Based on these two episodes, Westworld seemed destined to be another series that has not found (or not tried to find) a way to raise the stakes for female characters without subjecting them to some form of sexual violence. But
the third and fourth episodes (which is as far as I’ve seen) then begin
to do some interesting course correction, perhaps even script-flipping.
Something’s troubling Westworld and its overseers: the robots are
behaving strangely, as if some dawning self-awareness has taken root in
their wiring. This awakening is seen mostly through Dolores and Maeve’s
eyes, as they begin claiming agency over themselves—and claiming, in
certain cases, reprisal for the harm done to them. So we’re still
dealing with an assault narrative—but Westworld’s larger
inquests into consciousness interestingly house Dolores and Maeve’s
survival stories, allowing for a compelling, if unsubtle, metaphor for
humanizing, or un-objectifying, women. I’m saying this as a man, and I
know that some female colleagues I’ve spoken with find Westworld’s
sexual politics irredeemable. To me, the show seems aware of its own
themes and imagery, and so far is addressing them textually in
encouraging ways [.]" Atzīšos, ka tā kā sērijas ir aptuveni stundu garas... un pirmajās bija vērojama izteikta "pakļaušanās" no sieviešu varoņu puses / papildus "viesi" pārsvarā centās apmierināt primitīvākās dziņas, man vajadzēja sevi mazliet piespiest, lai turpinātu skatīties, tomēr .... tam sekoja pagrieziena punkts, kad epizodes pievērsās vairāk - radīšanas tēmai, radītāja atbildībai un spējai izveidot, ko tik ļoti cilvēkam līdzīgu, būtībai, kas veido cilvēku un atšķir to no perfektām mašīnām un manekeniem, kā arī lielajām pārmaiņām tēlu uzvedībā un vēl tik ļoti daudzām citām dziļākām tēmām. Domai par - cornerstone pārdzīvojumu - kas izveido cilvēka būtību, kam nevaru nepiekrist. No tēliem, mani visvairāk aizrāva Maeve un Man in Black. Pirmā - spēcīgās intelekta un emociju kombinācijas dēļ un otrais plot-twist was f*cking precious ... eh, bet to atklāt nedrīkst. Noteikti ieteiktu noskatīties ikvienam, bet mazās devās .. sāciet ar vienu epizodi dienā... bet pēc piektās, apsolu, ka apstāties būs grūtāk. 9 no 10 |
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