Part II: Devastation

“I don’t know how to warn you for what I’m gonna say, ‘cause you’re holding too tight to what I’m taking away. I’ve got demons inside me, so I’m faced with a choice, either try to ignore them, or I give them a voice.” – Mike Shinoda

My eyes remained transfixed on Melissa's as I desperately tried to comprehend what she had told me. "What does she mean 'I'm bleeding,'" I thought. I pulled my gaze away from the sea of blue-green staring back at me and frantically traced the outline of her body looking for any signs of injury. No broken skin, no puddle of crimson collecting on the floor, no applying of pressure to any one spot on her body. After a moment, my eyes met hers again. She looked concerned. "Like, while you were cooking or...?" I ask, still unable to fully grasp what she had said.

"No," she responded, "I'm bleeding. Like I'm on my period.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. "Well, is that normal?" Probably not that. I didn't know what else to do with that information except try to find a reason for bleeding that didn't end in heartbreak. "Like, does that happen?" Turns out Melissa already did some research, and, yes, it can be completely normal. It can also indicate the beginning stages of a miscarriage because women's biology is essentially one giant practical joke. Melissa told me that she called the nursing hotline on the back of our Kaiser card, and that she was told not to come in unless there was significant bleeding. "Isn't all bleeding significant at this point?" I asked.

"Well, I'm spotting," she responded, "so I guess if I start bleeding more..." She was nervous. I was nervous, but we couldn't let that show.

"Look," I said in an attempt to be reassuring, "the internet said it's normal to spot, and the nurse told you not to come in. I'm sure it's fine." ...I wasn't sure it was fine, but what else could I say? Freaking out wouldn't help, and honestly, if the unthinkable was about to happen, there wasn't anything that the doctors could do anyway. All we could do was hope and wait to see what happened next. We continued through the rest of the week, business as usual. Melissa kicked ass at school, I performed adequately at work; everything appeared normal. But just below the surface of our inoffensive pleasantries was that undercurrent of uncertainty. Melissa kept spotting, and while the amount of blood never increased, we couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen.

And something bad did.

Seemingly overnight, it was Friday. At that time, Melissa and I didn't see each other on Fridays. I would work until 5pm, get home at 6:30pm; she would leave the house by 2:30pm and get home a few hours after I knocked out for the evening. On days such as these, we would normally relegate our conversations to her lunch break. Around 7, she called me up, same as any other night. That night, though, there was something uneasy in the air. Melissa sounded a little off… As she regaled stories about code-greying on this patient and about how another literally shit the bed, there was a trembling in her voice. "Is everything okay?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said. "My stomach's been upset all night."

"Well maybe you should just come home," I responded, half joking. It wasn't out of the ordinary for one of us to try to get the other to play hooky. I was woefully unprepared for her response.

"Yeah, I might have to." I felt a pit beginning to form in my own stomach. What you need to understand about Melissa is that she does not call off of work for anything. In sickness or health, rain, sleet, snow, brightest day, darkest night, Melissa will be at work. Her arm could spontaneously fall off of her body and she MIGHT be a little late; she loves what she does and is wholly dedicated to the people that she serves. She didn’t deserve… The fact that she was even considering coming home early gave me cause for concern.

Melissa worked the rest of her shift, and my anxiety subsided marginally. I suggested that Melissa call the after-hours number on the back of the Kaiser card, but in true Melissa fashion, she declined. "I'll be alright," she assured. And for a moment, I was reassured. Pains happen, stomach aches are common. If Melissa said that she would be fine, I didn't have a reason not to believe her.

But then came Saturday.

We spent the morning snuggled on the couch, watching the Toy Story marathon that was part of FreeForm's 25 Days of Christmas. The longer we sat, the more intense Melissa’s pain became. She was in agony. I suggested that she call in sick, knowing full well that she would ignore me and start getting ready for work. Instead, she muttered the scariest words that I’ve ever heard her speak. “Yeah, I think you’re right.” The pit in my stomach returned. I guess we should have known then, but we both thought that this would pass. Melissa just needed a day off of her feet. Honestly, aside from the immense discomfort Melissa was feeling, the day wasn’t bad. We blew up the air mattress and threw it on the ground in the living room, personifying the concept of lethargy. We ordered and consumed any and all junk food we could, and watched as Andy’s toys wandered from one shenanigan to another. Had Melissa not been doubled over, holding her stomach, everything would have appeared fine.

“Maybe you should take some medicine?” I suggested.

“No,” she responded without hesitation. “I don’t want to risk hurting the baby.” Such is the cadence of a good mother. In about a week’s time, Melissa had given up caffeine, started working out and had begun her prenatal regiment of horse pills to ensure that our child would be as healthy as possible; she wasn't about to risk anything over a little discomfort.

“Okay,” I said, “well maybe you should call the nursing line again; see if there’s anything that they recommend.”

“I’m okay,” she said. “I’ll get through it.”

As the opening of Toy Story 3 began to roll, Melissa got up and went to the bathroom. And again. And again. I didn’t ask if she was alright, I figured she would tell me if something was wrong. And in her own way, I guess that’s exactly what she did. “What’s the number for Kaiser?” she asked. I got up and grabbed my card and dialed the hotline for her. Melissa held her ear to the phone and again, went to the bathroom. Melissa was placed on hold when her body started to convulse. She felt her temperature rise and fall as her body tried to make sense of what was happening. As her nails dug deeper into her knees, she quietly sobbed to herself so as not to cause me any distress. Melissa heard a loud *PLOP* as she gasped for air, reaching out for any salvage in this unbridled tempest.

Of course, I didn’t know any of this at the time. I just laid there and hoped that she would be able to make it through... whatever it was she was going through. Eventually, she came back and told me she 'passed tissue.' I, James Brock, smartest of smart assess with a quip for all occasions, fell mute. I didn't know how to respond. Truth be told, I didn’t even really know what that meant. Euphemisms. She came and sat next to me, as silent as I was. I was able to muster a single sentence: "I think you need to call the doctor." Brilliant, Brock. Really. Top-shelf advice. 

“I know,” she responded. Melissa grabbed her phone, stood up, and walked into the other room. I could still hear her side of the conversation. She couldn’t speak more than a couple of words without having to fight back a sob:

"Hi, I'm… I was… I’m pregnant and... I passed tissue. No... No I didn't... It’s better now… It still hurts though… Okay, thank you… Oh wait, what time…? Okay, thank you." Melissa came back, staring perplexed at her phone, tears drying on her cheeks.

“Is everything okay?” I asked. “Was the dude okay?”

“Yeah, he was nice but… He asked me if I saved it..."

"... Like... in a Tupperware?" I asked just as perplexed.

"I guess that's a thing? I don't know..."

"I mean... Maybe we could have put in a to-go box…"

"Or wrapped it in a foil swan or something..." she said, sitting back down next to me.

"What else did he say?"

"He said to go to Urgent Care tomorrow morning to get checked out."

"Do you think you're still pregnant? I know you said you passed tissue but..."

"... No, I'm… It came out. I saw it," she said, desperately trying to hold it together. I paused for a long time.

"What did it look like?" I asked, not sure I really wanted to know.

"It kinda looked like... You remember Dart from Stranger Things?"

Oh, THAT painted a word picture. We sat and watched Woody and the gang head to the incinerator. I remember being relieved that they weren’t watching Up, and hoping that this time, the toys wouldn’t be rescued. We were a week away from the second trimester. I knew my newt-looking offspring was nothing more than a small mish-mash of cells, but that didn’t matter; I became infuriated with a God I don’t believe in. I didn't get to say good-bye. Like so many pet goldfish, our future son or daughter was flushed unceremoniously down the toilet.

"So... what do we do now?" I asked.

"They told me urgent care opens at 7am tomorrow."

Melissa and I knew there was no way in Hell we would be able to commit to waking up that early. 10 would be fine.

After a restless night of remorseless nightmares, we woke up and headed to Kaiser, unsure of what to say to each other. Small talk didn't seem appropriate but neither of us felt comfortable bringing up the tragic events of the prior evening. We were mostly quiet, listening to Sweet Child O' Mine on the radio because that's our fucking lives. We arrived and I asked Melissa if she was ready. Shockingly, she appeared in good spirits as she assured me that she was doing fine. We walked down the hallway as the buzzing of the florescent lights above added an undesired soundtrack to our grief. We approached the counter and were greeted by THE CHEERIEST FUCKING RECEPTIONIST I have ever met. Like, if Buddy the Elf and a Care Bear had a well-groomed offspring, it would be this fucking guy.

"HI WELCOME TO KAISER, HOW ARE YOU TODAY?" We're in fucking Urgent Care, is that a serious question?

"Hi," said Melissa, in a much less asshole-y tone than I would have, "I'm... I was pregnant and passed tissue." And guys, you should have seen the look on his face. It's like he found out that SPOILER ALERT Santa Claus isn't real and his puppy didn't actually go to live on a farm, simultaneously. It was glorious. That's what you get for trying to be a decent human being, I guess. I was surprised by Melissa’s aplomb. Here I was, ready to either break down crying or take a swing at someone. Yet Melissa, who had just suffered this unbearable, painful, physical trauma the night before, floated through the hospital like a pensive angel. I didn’t understand. Maybe I was too focused on my own pain.

As far as waiting goes, the initial before the call back was pretty quick. We were shown to an exam room seemingly immediately, which scared me a little cause... you know, triage and shit (don't pretend like you don't watch doctor shows). Melissa was asked to disrobe and was provided a blanket, and we waited for the doctor to come in. Delirious from the emotional pain, we started joking with each other about whether we could have had sex in the time it took the doctor to get there, how cold she was since she was going full Donald Duck in an exam room, and whether she would feel more or less comfortable if I shirt-cocked it along with her. Anything to distract us from what was going on. The doctor finally arrived (plenty of time to bump uglies) and I stood in the corner, trying to make myself as small as possible… trying to hold on to whatever strength I had left, because I had a feeling Melissa was going to need it.

Now, I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe I thought the doctor would subject her to some sort of ultrasound or palpate her tum-tum. I was hilariously underprepared for the doctor slapping on a pair of gloves and rooting around for the remnants of our unborn child. “You’re going to feel some pressure,” said the doctor in a heavy Indian accent. Melissa grabbed my hand and braced for the worst. If desperation and hopelessness were physical manifestations, they would be everything that I felt in her grip. With every increased ounce of pressure, I could feel more and more of my own heart shattering into pieces. I could do nothing to stop the pain. There were no words of comfort to offer, nothing to stop her tears, no defense against the unrelenting cataclysm. Nothing, but the ever growing sense of devastation as I was slowly being ripped apart from the inside. All I could do was squeeze back. With her free hand, Melissa covered her face and began sobbing, her mask of calm finally slipping to reveal the shattered person inside. I did everything I could to stop myself from joining her.

The doctor removed her hands from inside my wife, threw away her glove, and patted Melissa on the cheek.

"Don't worry,” she said, “you're still young."

*Deep Breath*

Ladies and gentlemen! I would now like to take this opportunity to present for your reading pleasure: a tirade.

Melissa and I have been together, all told, about 8 years, depending on when you start counting. In that 8 years, Melissa and I have done some things. Terrible things. Gross things. Great things. Biting, kicking, scratching, slapping, pushing, pulling, pegging, the Tequila Sunrise, the Alligator Fuckhouse, the Ol' Gusty Winks, the Radiator Operator, the Goddamn Hoot-Hoots, the #3 Combo with Rice and Sour Cream, and the Vietnamese Spinning Fuck-Chair. Enough to keep things interesting, not so much to make us cry in the shower to wash away the horror. It's a fine line to walk and we've handled it deftly.

Yet not once in our 8 years together, ladies and gentlemen, have I thought about Kermit-the-Frogging my wife, taking some of her own bodily fluids, and MARKING HER LIKE THE FUTURE KING OF THE GODDAMN SAVANNAH! Don't get me wrong, I'm not knocking you if that's your jam. If you need to call your partner Rafiki while Circle of Life plays in the background in order to achieve sexual gratification, more power to you. Hakuna Matata. But I'm willing to bet that even you, my freaky friends, would concede that there is a time and a place for such an event to occur, and that the time is NOT in an Urgent Care exam room after just being told you lost a baby. The doctor is lucky I needed my good county job, otherwise her loved ones would have never found the body.

Dr. Dickmouth asked us to go across the street to have Melissa be ultrasounded, which... couldn’t we have started with that?! We needed to make sure that there were no leftovers of the kid floating around somewhere, as that could lead to emergency surgery or worse. Perfect! We're already going through the worst day of our fucking lives; having Melissa butterflied on a table would have been just the perfect way to end the day. The doctor left and Melissa regained her composure. I suppressed my knee-jerk reaction to be hilariously dark; I didn't want to risk saying the wrong thing and watch the woman I love fall to pieces again. Fortunately, I didn't have to do any of the heavy lifting and Melissa reminded me exactly why we ended up together.

"Well," she said, "at least I'm still young."

"Dude!" I responded, "Where did that even come from?!"

"I don't know, maybe she counted the rings while she was in there."

"She didn't even wash her hands before she seal-slapped you with your own goop!"

"Gross! She was wearing gloves!"

"So do proctologists, but if one was full-Muppet inside of me, I'd have them wash up before high-fiving them."

"You're sick," she said, feigning a smile.

We passed by Buddy the Fucking Elf on the way across the street to ultrasound. "How'd it go?" he asked.

"You know, not great,” said Melissa. I saw the compassion in Buddy’s eyes that I had somehow missed before.

“Well, I hope that it gets better for you,” he said. At least he tried.

As we walked across the street we felt gravity slowly begin to intensify on our increasingly weary bodies, and as we got closer to ultrasound, the pure horror of what we were going through started to set in. We found fewer and fewer things to say to each other, until finally we made it into the building.

"HI! WELCOME TO KAISER, HOW CAN I HELP YOU?!" screamed an overzealous receptionist. For the love of all that is unholy, you work in a hospital; learn to read the fucking room.

"Hi," I said, resisting the urge to slap her, "we were sent over from Urgent Care." The receptionist asked for Melissa's name and we gave it. We couldn't see the information on her desktop, but the slow realization and subsequent look of remorse told us that she knew exactly why we were there. Even if it didn’t, I’m sure it was written on our faces. Her voice, barely a whisper:

"Go ahead and have a seat. We'll call you back shortly." We sat in the smallest, most nondescript waiting room I've ever been in. I remember a clock on the wall and a lot of muted colors. We sat and listened to the ticking of the clock, each of us trying to harden our hearts to the trauma. Every breath was agony, and I wasn't sure if I would be able to exhale without letting loose a sob. We grasped each other's hands as we silently stared into the beige abyss...

"HI THIS IS TIFFANY WITH KAISER! JUST A REMINDER THAT YOUR ULTRASOUND IS SCHEDULED FOR NEXT TUESDAY AT 2PM! BRING THE FAMILY BECAUSE YOU'LL BE ABLE TO FIND OUT THE SEX OF YOUR BABY!!!!! HAVE A NICE DAY!!!!!"

Melissa and I refused to make eye contact. Each knew what the other was thinking, but we couldn't risk a glance for fear of saying something truly dark and terrible-

"HI THIS IS TIFFANY WITH KAISER! JUST A REMINDER THAT YOUR ULTRASOUND IS SCHEDULED FOR NEXT WEDNESDAY AT 10AM! BRING THE FAMILY BECAUSE YOU'LL BE ABLE TO FIND OUT THE SEX OF YOUR BABY!!!!! HAVE A NICE DAY!!!!!"

I mean, she just checked us in. I understand she has a job to do but- 

"HI THIS IS TIFFANY WITH KAISER! JUST A REMINDER THAT YOUR ULTRASOUND IS SCHEDULED FOR NEXT WEDNESDAY AT 12PM! BRING THE FAMILY BECAUSE YOU'LL BE ABLE TO FIND OUT THE SEX OF YOUR BABY!!!!! HAVE A NICE DAY!!!!!"

Would it have killed her to wa-

"HI THIS IS TIFFANY WITH KAISER!"

Goddamnit! I finally looked over at Melissa who may or may not have fractured a rib from the pure strain of trying to hold in her laughter. "Did we get hit by a car on the way over here?" I whispered, holding in my own laughter. "I feel like we died and went to literal Hell." Before she could let loose a giant guffaw that would no doubt have gotten us kicked out of the hospital, Melissa was called back for her ultrasound. We walked down a Kubrickian labyrinth of a hallway, and I found myself lost in my own thoughts of hospital architecture. Eventually we arrived at the machine.

"Sir," said the nurse in my general direction, "you can go ahead and wait here." She gestured to a bench in a separate waiting area, as far from the machine as it could possibly be while still technically being in the same building. I looked at Melissa, who gave me a 'we don't have the money to bail you out' look. She looked terrified. I sat on the bench.

I stayed as still as I could and slowed both my heart rate and my breathing in an attempt to listen for any signs of distress. I don't know what I would or could have done if I had heard anything, but it at least gave me some illusion of control over this runaway freight train. I waited; completely cognizant of my situation and realizing that there was nothing I could do. I sat and I fell deeper and deeper into my own sunken place. Unable to move. Unable to breathe.

True helplessness.

After what seemed like hours, though realistically was probably only a few minutes, Melissa emerged from the room. She looked pale, and somehow less than she looked before entering. Again, I found myself speechless. "Was the stuff cold on your belly?" I mustered.

"It wasn't like that,” she said flatly. “She took a probe and stuck it inside me." I didn’t ask her how she was feeling. I knew the answer.

"So what did they say? Are you... are we in the clear?"

"I don't know,” she said. I heard something in her voice. I thought it was anger, but I couldn’t be sure. “She said we had to talk to the doctor."

"Well that seems shitty," I responded. Bitch just pulled a Trent Reznor and felt Melissa from the inside; how hard would it have been to tell us whether or not she had baby bits floating around in there? We began our trek back to Urgent Care. "Are you hungry?" I asked. "I didn't know it would take this long, I’m starving."

"You know me," she responded. "I’m always hungry." The Urgent Care was significantly more crowded than it had been a mere half-hour ago. "Fuck this," I said. "I’m going to get McDonalds before I kill and eat one of these patients." McDonalds was the only thing around and I figured we already felt like shit; McDonalds couldn't make us feel much worse.

So there we sat in the Urgent Care waiting room, eating our Mickey Ds like a couple of little nugget goblins, surrounded be the ill, caught somewhere between laughing our asses off and crying our eyes out. The doctor called us in, looked at the chart, and said: "Yup, no baby." Super. I'm sure she probably said it in a more medical vernacular, but it doesn't matter. The message was the same.

I drove us home while Melissa sat, slumped against the car door. She looked defeated. My mind raced as I tried to fathom what the next few days and weeks would look like. Christmas was right around the corner and a wave of dread enveloped me. "We have to tell our people." I said. Melissa remained silent, I took that as a sign to continue. "People are excited for us, which means that they’re going to want to buy us clothes and toys for...” I couldn't say it. Not yet. "I just don't know that I can survive that."

A deafening silence filled the car. I could see tears starting to collect in Melissa’s eyes… Only they weren’t the same eyes that greeted me earlier that week. The sea of blue-green had been replaced with now a cold, pale blue. She spoke without turning to me:

"I’m supposed to be able to do one thing. My whole purpose in life is to be able to create life; to be a mom. What if I can’t do that? Who am I then?” You’re my wife. You’re my partner. You’re Melissa Fucking Brock. All acceptable answers under normal circumstances, but instead, I said nothing. The question wasn’t directed at me, and if I’m being honest, I wasn’t sure that the person who watched Toy Story 3 with me less than 24 hours ago was the same person riding in the car with me now. So instead of trying to reassure or minimize, I put my hand on her knee and kept my mouth shut. “I don't think I can survive it either," she said. I had almost forgotten the question I asked.

We got home and texted our folks. My parents said they wished they could make the pain go away. I told them I didn’t want to talk about it. Her parents asked us to let them know if there was anything they could do. She thanked them.

We collapsed on the couch, exhausted, and held each other while Rory curled up next to us. We cried and laughed and cursed until our tears ran dry, our laughter was lost in the echo, and the deities had long stopped paying us any mind.

There was nothing left to do.

Nothing except to prepare for work the following morning.

-James & Melissa

Part I: Bliss

“… Cause I’m tired of the fear that I can’t control this. I’m tired of feeling like every next step’s hopeless. I’m tired of being scared what I build might break apart. I don’t want to know the end, all I want is a place to start…” – Mike Shinoda

I wish that I could remember more significant moments in my life. I can recite quotes from the first 10 years of The Simpsons with perfect inflection and staging, but I can't remember the exact moment that I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Melissa. I have at least 70 tracks worth of Disney songs that I can use in casual conversation swimming around in my head, but I can't recall my first day of school and how big everything seemed. I can sit down and replay every embarrassing circumstance since birth in vivid detail and high-quality surround sound, but I will die before remembering how I felt the first time I realized I had worth. There's a lot of unnecessary and useless information taking up space in the ol' attic, yet the one moment I'll never forget is the moment I knew I was ready to be a dad.

It started back in November, 2017. Melissa’s flow was anything but even, which really isn’t that shocking for us. Thing just kinda shows up when it wants, causes a couple of days of misery and then fucks off. I wouldn’t set a watch to her menstrual cycle is all I’m saying. At the time, everything appeared normal. Melissa and I never do anything to actively protect against unplanned pregnancy, but when she told me she was late, my reaction was “again? Cool.” We've had scares like this in the past, and it's the same damn game every time! We start to get nervous, she buys a pregnancy test and SURPRISE! We're not pregnant and the red river starts flowing the following day. I mean look, my pull out game is strong; ask our various traumatized towels and blankets. I wasn't worried... But things happen, right?

So there I am, sitting at work with LEGITIMATELY nothing to do. I had just changed job functions, so it was that weird in-between phase where I wasn’t assigned any work. (Note: If you are my current employer then I was working diligently on a very important assignment.) Veteran's Day was the following day, so I was just leaning back in my chair like a cool kid, desperately waiting for the seconds to pass by so I could start my 3-day weekend. In between playing Pokémon Go and checking Collider and Game Informer for the latest in nerd news, I was receiving texts from Melissa, saying that she was going to take the recently-bought pregnancy test. She asked me if she should wait until I got home to take the test, but again, I wasn't worried. "Let me know what it says," I responded. Suddenly, a text notification at the top of my screen. "We're pregnant."

I had about half an hour left before I could leave, but I also knew there wouldn't be anyone looking for me (seriously, about half the office thinks my name is David). So I began my hour-and-a-half drive home. I called Melissa.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, listening for any sign of panic in her voice.

"Uh, good I think. How are you doing?" she responded, her voice unwavering.

"You know... I'm okay." It was the strangest dance, as each of us circled each other trying to assess how excited we were allowed to be at this news. The call didn't last long; phone service and GPS location in the desert is always a crap-shoot (pro-tip for anyone needing to bury a body). So it gives me time to think. And I start thinking about our plan. How we were going to wait a couple years, how we planned on traveling, how we were going to enjoy married life for a bit longer. Then I started thinking about the names that Melissa and I had decided on before I even proposed to her. I started thinking about the 'I am your father' baby shower that my coworkers would no doubt be throwing me. I thought about how lucky it was that both of our dads were about to be retired and would have plenty of time to babysit (can’t escape it!). And more than that, I started swelling with joy over the thought that the best person I had ever met was going to be a mom.

I arrived at home, and was greeted by our dog, Rory. A better writer would have described this moment as an emotional homecoming in which the pet inherently knew about the pregnancy and congratulated me on the joy that was going to be introduced into my life. In actuality, she was probably just excited that she would be getting human food and a walk soon (I'm weak). Melissa got off the couch and approached me in the entry way. "How are you?" I asked, a smile working its way across my face.

"Good," she said, a smile slowly creeping across hers. "How are you?"

"Well... We're pregnant."

"We're pregnant."

We wrapped our arms around each other, no longer able to contain our excitement. Immediately, we began making sure that we were okay with the names we had chosen years prior. Melissa ran to Pinterest to begin decorating our future child's room, while I ordered 'Night Night, Groot,' our first child's first children's book. Appointments were scheduled, vitamins were bought, and yes, Rory got her human food. For the briefest of moments, the three of us were the only ones on the planet that knew we were having a baby. It was surreal to have a secret all to ourselves. Well, until Thanksgiving.

We were over at Aunt Debbie and Uncle Kyle's house in Upland. We were a little on edge; Aunt Debbie's the resident psychic in the family so we had to monitor our auras. Couldn't be putting out any 'baby vibes' in the presence of that woman. And Kyle, well he's just an astute son-of-a-bitch. They're some of the best people I've ever met, but we had to keep our guard up. The Catholic brood traditionally congregates at their home for every holiday, and Thanksgiving was no exception. Unsurprisingly, the extended family asked us when we would have kids and start a family. Melissa and I deftly navigated that minefield with all of the grace and tenacity of a Cirque du Soleil acrobat, deflecting every question thrown at us like a ninja on Adderall. "Oh, I don't know," we would say. "We want to wait until Melissa's done with school and then spend a couple of years travelling, so it'll probably be a minute." We deflect for a living, if there's something that we don't want you to know, you're not going to know. The thing is, Melissa and I are notoriously bad at keeping 'fun' secrets if we don't have to. The weeks leading up to Christmas are 15 days of us trying to talk each other out of opening our gifts early. Largely, it ends in failure. We'd rather revel in the joy of the moment and receive a pat on the back for a job-well-done.

And maybe that's why Melissa decided to tell Kylie that night.

Kylie is Melissa's younger but no-less-mature cousin/twin sister, and the two of them were left alone in the kitchen, washing dishes after dinner. Yes, I understand now that this was a recipe for disaster. Kylie asked Melissa to have a glass of wine with her. Melissa declined and sweet, innocent Kylie sarcastically responded: "Why, because you're pregnant?" Maybe the sheer amount of smarmy remarks overloaded the neurons in Melissa's brain, or maybe it was the exhaustion of the day. It's impossible to know now what caused Melissa to ever so slightly hesitate and shoot Kylie a knowing look, but it happened all the same. As Kylie was about to start screaming (and, knowing her, crying) Melissa told her not to tell anyone. She explained that it was still too early, and that she was going to the doctor the following day to confirm the pregnancy. Kylie agreed and kept the secret for us until we were ready to have it known. You’ll understand in a minute what a big deal that is.

None of this was known to me at the time, mind you. It wasn't until the three of us were loaded into the car to go Black Friday shopping that Kylie turned and congratulated me and told me what great parents we were going to make. The whiplash was so severe, I had to walk around with a neck brace for the rest of the weekend. It was refreshing, though, to have somebody else in on our secret. Nicer still was the affirmation that others outside of the group of Melissa, Rory, and myself thought that we wouldn't ruin our kid beyond repair. We went to the doctor the following day. She confirmed the pregnancy and all Hell broke loose. We couldn't keep it a secret for long after that. We wanted people to be excited for us! And if I'm being totally honest, I wanted to gauge people's reactions. I was hoping for more of "You're going to make great parents" and less "I'll pray for that baby."

We started off slowly. While Melissa told her best friend Kristen, I elected to tell some of work family. They all work or live in the desert, I figured that the risk of accidental disclosure was slim. I told Lucia and Cortney, my two little sisters and Carmen, the kindred spirit. Cortney did a little dance in her seat and started planning a Star Wars-themed baby shower (called it!) because my tastes are obvious. Lucia hugged me and congratulated me. Carmen smiled and said "Yay...!" Which, no joke, is huge for an introvert. And of course I told the mother hen of our little cohort, Exie. Leave it to her to have the most emotional reaction of the group. The others must have heard Exie squeal in delight, because suddenly Zee, Tati, and Keisha were over at her cubicle congratulating me and sending me their well wishes. Seriously, if you have any positive news, this is the group of people you want to tell. The last person I told was my former supervisor, Cynthia; partly because we had become close and I knew she would be excited, and partly because she has enough kids to start a baseball team and I wanted to ensure she would be around if I needed advice. Admittedly, I was happy being the center of attention for a minute.

But that moment was fleeting. It was serene being in our own little bubble for the amount of time that we were, but the thing about bubbles is that they will undoubtedly and inevitably burst; our bubble was on the very cusp of popping. We knew that it was time to tell the parents. I know it sounds like this should be the most exciting part; actually announcing and creating a cute little video for a Dove Body Soap commercial is right at the top of some Buzzfeed list, but let me tell ya, it was stressful as fuck. Melissa collects moms like the boarder collects immigrant children (too soon?) and trying to figure out a way to inform all of the parents in a very narrow window without anyone's feelings getting hurt was akin to convincing a White-Supremacist that Black Panther is not an attack on White culture. Sure it’s possible, but choosing the correct words and the manner in which it was said was critical to ensure that nobody was going to be made to bite the curb at the end of this. It honestly made me wish we were worse offspring but NOOOOO we had to be bred with EMPATHY!

We knew we had to hold off telling Melissa's side of the family. Those folks eat, live, and breathe social media, and as soon as we told one of them, the news would be out there in the Twittersphere. All I needed is my mom hearing second-hand from her sister: "Hey, is Jimmy pregnant because this person just posted that thing..." and BOOM, I'm out if the will... or at least have passive-aggressive comments thrown at me until my bones literally disintegrate from shame.

My parents had to be first. Not because they were more trustworthy or significant, but because they are technologically illiterate; their cellphones are basically two soup cans connected by a string and they treat computers like Space Odyssey monoliths. Silence was guaranteed. Melissa, the true creative between the two of us, had formulated a plan. We were at Market Broiler, a local seafood restaurant, for my mother's birthday. The dinner itself was fine; service was a little slow due to large company parties showing up unexpectedly and my dad became Angry Old Man for a minute because the fish he wanted was out of season, but otherwise, it was an uneventful meal. At the end of our feast, my mom opened her presents: the next link in the POP! Hogwarts Express, a couple of movies she's wanted for years... and a third mystery package.

As she pulled out the tissue paper, I saw a look of confusion crawl across her face. Confusion then turned to realization. Melissa squeezed my hand tight. It felt like my stomach was in free-fall. My mom looked at us and asked: "What is this?"

"Surprise!" we exclaimed. It was a pacifier with a cute little note attached, suggesting that my mom and dad keep this at their house just in case we forgot one for our future child (we wouldn't). Hugs, laughs and tears all around! They were ecstatic, as were we. But we warned them not to say anything and threatened them with punishment of death. We explained our plan and explicitly told them not to disclose to ANYONE that we were pregnant. “Okay,” said my little sister Serena. “Oh, Brooke says congratulations.” Dude, seriously? How do you even text that fast?! Couldn’t go 30 seconds without telling her best friend. But you know what? Fine. Brooke’s cool and I don’t have her on social media. She won’t say anything. One set down, four sets to go. Yes, really.

Along came Sunday. We had arranged various meals throughout the day with Melissa’s legion and while each revelation was going to be its own rollercoaster, we were confident in our abilities to get it done. Melissa started by Facetiming her mom, Kathy, in Utah. Kathy was appropriately moved, began to cry, and started listing off all of Melissa’s baby belonging that we had to have for our baby. Kathy has a tendency to take a conversation and make it about her, but she unexpectedly let us have this moment. Again, the plan was explained, and Kathy promised not to spread the word until we gave to go-ahead. So far, so good.

Three.

We packed up and headed to Yucaipa to tell Mom #2 and the brothers-in-law: Dee, Josh, and Joey. We went to a delicious breakfast house where Dee proceeded to be her normal, gregarious self. She quickly made friends with the server and told her stories about her children that the server no-doubt had forgotten by the time she walked away from the table. Melissa began speaking: “So, we wanted to have breakfast with you to give you… this!” Melissa handed Dee the bag with the pacifier wrapped inside. Hugs, laughs, and tears all around! We sat and ate, and Dee regaled stories shared multiple times over. Josh and Joey were excited too, but you know, teenagers. We warned them not to say anything and threatened them with punishment of death. We explained our plan and explicitly told them not to disclose to ANYONE that we were pregnant. “Okay,” said Dee. “Oh, John says congratulations.” What the actual fuck? Dude, I’m grateful that your flavor of the month is happy for us, but seriously that phone’s gonna rot your brain. Live in the moment, woman! But you know what? Fine. John’s… a person and I don’t have him on social media. He better not say anything.

Two.

After breakfast, we made our way out to Banning. Or Beaumont. I don’t know, it all kind of blends together over there. It’s where Melissa’s father, Kelle, had set up shop with Francisca, his wife. They’re good people and always make us feel welcome whenever we head out that way. We came in, made small talk, ate some delicious sandwiches and otherwise just enjoyed each other's company. After lunch, Melissa handed them the package containing the pacifier and the note. Francisca’s eyes got comically wide and Kelle was wearing the biggest, dumbest grin. Hugs, laughs, and tears all around! We warned them not to say anything and threatened them with punishment of death. We explained our plan and explicitly told them not to disclose to ANYONE that we were pregnant. We had one set left to tell and we were so close to accomplishing our goal. “Okay,” said Kelle as he opened up Facetime so that he could tell his mom. Just… goddamnit. I get that it’s exciting, but it’s OUR news to tell. I’ve literally met this person twice in my life; why should she know before anyone else? But you know what? Fine. It’s too late now! Yes, we’re pregnant, now please don’t post anything on the Facebooks until we can check the last set off of our list.

One.

Melissa and I travelled to Upland to tell Aunt Debbie, Uncle Kyle, and Grandma Angie. We were bursting with excitement. We knew that as soon as we told this last group of people, the flood gates would open and the entire world would know. On the way, we contacted our out-of-state but no-less-important friends and family knowing that we were reaching the end of our arduous journey. Shane, Steven, Danielle, Erin, each more excited than the last. Our own excitement was overpowering, which was beneficial considering our bodies were about to give out from exhaustion. We arrived and sat in the garage with Kyle and Uncle Gary while we waited for Debbie and Angie to return home. "They'll be back in a minute," said Kyle in his unmistakable Southern drawl. I don't know why we didn't just tell Gary and Kyle then; it probably would have relieved at least some of the tension. But this was Melissa's side of the family, so I followed her lead. We waited. And waited. And waited, until finally, Debbie and Angie came home. We sat in the front room and prepared to reveal the news. "We're pregnant," said Melissa.

"Oh, I know," said Debbie. *Shrug* I guess we should have known better than to try to surprise the family psychic. Hugs, laughs and tears all around! We sat and visited for a while, hearing Debbie and Angie reminisce about their own pregnancies and hearing Kyle and Gary be grumpy that we didn't say anything to them while we were waiting. Debbie put her hand on Melissa's head and 'felt' a boy. Melissa would later tell me that she felt the same thing. While our minds were willing to continue visiting, our bodies were on the verge of collapse; it's what happens when it's been more than 45 minutes since our last caffeine fix.

We were done. It was the longest day of our lives up to that point, but we finally made it through to the other side. We texted those that had already known, and said that it was okay to tell people now if they wanted to. Dee must have had that shit locked and loaded, because no sooner had Melissa hit the 'Send' button on the message, a cute little post popped up on Facebook. It's not exactly what we wanted, and it certainly validated our feelings about waiting to tell her, but there was nothing we could do about it then. Then a post from Kelle, and then from Kathy. I'm sure my parents were in the process of lighting a fire to send their smoke signals.

Melissa and I got home, exhausted, and talked. We talked about the future, our history, and about what these next 7 months of our life would look like. We talked about family Halloween costumes and how excited I would be to share my comic book worlds with them. We talked about how exciting it would be to discover their personality and learn about whatever worlds they found interesting. Eventually, we posted our own announcement; one with humor and dinosaurs. The feedback was overwhelmingly positive. People I hadn't talked to in years and people I see every day alike were equally excited to see our family grow. The amount of pure joy I felt is something that I had not felt since my wedding day, and it's not a high I've felt since.

I worked the next day and, as seems to be the case with my job, I found myself coming home from LA in the middle of rush hour. I looked out the window in the hopes that Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker would save me from my 2-hour car ride home, but I had no such luck. I stopped and went, stopped and went; my irritation growing as each break light taunted and strained my retinas. In a desperate attempt to relieve my torment, I shifted my thoughts to my currently-cooking child and the 'Night Night, Groot' book on the way to our home. I thought about sitting on the couch with my child on my lap, making them laugh at the goofy voices I was sure to perfect while reading to him or her. All of the anger I felt melted away, and any trepidation that I had about becoming a father disappeared. I allowed myself to feel excited and realized that no matter what would eventually become of my fully grown child, I would have that future memory to look back on. Nothing else in the world would matter, and I could not wait for my daughter or son to share these moments with me.

This is when I knew I was ready to be a dad.

If this was a movie, a fairytale, or any other work of fiction, I would end the story here, with our heroes becoming parents, their family growing stronger, and by all accounts, living happily ever after. Instead, when I get home, ready to embrace my loving wife and excited dog, Melissa uttered two words. A month prior, these words would have brought me naught but relief and peace of mind. Now, these words only succeeded in filling me with unmatched dread and remorse.

"I'm bleeding." 

Because this isn't a movie, a fairytale, or any other work of fiction. This is real life, and as any of you reading this should know by now, reality hardly ever follows a script and the only guarantee is uncertainty. Where we’ll venture next is not for the faint-of-heart or the emotionally sensitive. It’s not my goal to make you feel sorry for us; but neither is it my intention to offer you some sense of closure. All I can do is tell our truth. Should you feel brave or fool enough, ignore your apprehension and be on the lookout for the next chapter in our story.

Until then,

-James & Melissa

Birth of a Nation: A Look Back at Black Panther

There's a reason that I wait so long to write about these movies. You know... a reason aside from having an adult job and being generally lazy. I like to give myself a minute to sit with a movie and allow some of my initial emotional reactions to temper a bit. I know me; the initial viewing experience dramatically influences how I see the movie (which is why Avengers still ranks so high). If I had written about Ant-Man right after I saw it, I would have been much kinder. If I had written about Doctor Strange after watching the midnight screening with a crying two-year-old standing next to me, I probably would have been much harsher. Giving myself some distance allows me to strip away some of the mystique I associate with my comic book films; it gives me time to listen to commentaries, watch interviews, and otherwise become an expert on the movie all before my first keystroke. All of this to say that I'm still at the point where watching Black Panther makes me cry, so this may turn out to be more of a literary dick-sucking than some of my other posts have been.

The king accepts your terms, step forward.

Honestly, can any of you out there blame me? I mean, I had hoped that Black Panther would be good, but I never thought in my wildest dreams that it would be this good. Director Ryan Coogler and the folks at Marvel were able to craft a film that's beyond astonishing, inspirational, and basically any other adjective that I've used to describe Marvel films in the past. Black Panther takes everything that Marvel does to a higher level, and has quickly become one of the best superhero films of all time. Yeah I said it.

Strap in folks. It's gonna get messy.

What Works

I am T’Challa; I am Killmonger

You’d think that with a name like ‘Killmonger,’ it would be easy to single out Michael B. Jordan’s character as the villain of the movie. Yet here I am; struggling to figure out what makes Killmonger 'evil' besides his really dumb name. The difficulty in classifying him as ‘da bad guy’ is that the motives of himself and T’Challa are only separated by the thinnest of margins. Both have claim to the throne, both want to aid their people, both look great shirtless.

You're welcome.

So why is one the villain and one the hero? Well, it really comes down to their avenues of pursuing change. Killmonger wants to ship weapons across the globe in order to liberate his people; T’Challa eventually believes in a more diplomatic approach to outreach. While it may be easy to point fingers at Killmonger and say that he’s cruel and twisted for wanting to create a global genocide, don’t forget that most of the movies we pay to see end with our heroes punching their way to freedom in the most violent ways possible. Seems a bit hypocritical to proclaim ‘violence isn’t the answer’ and then watch Cap snap Bucky’s good arm…

Seriously though, if they don't make-out in Infinity War
I'm asking for my money back.

Like many folks out there, I found myself agreeing with a lot of what Killmonger said, specifically when asking ‘Where was Wakanda?’ while the rest of the world suffers. I mean, look at the U.S. We have access to all of the tools, knowledge, and resources we could ever ask for, but what are we doing with it? We’re clearly not helping the homeless, not investing in mental health, not investing in the future of our children, and generally not doing anything to make any meaningful impact on the world. Instead, we sit here playing videogames and writing about movies while we watch our own people struggle to survive. Killmonger is fueled by injustice and driven by anger towards the country that took everything away from him, leaving him alone and abandoned. While I don’t necessarily agree with his ‘and kill their children!’ part of the plan, it’s devastatingly simple to relate to Killmonger, and isn’t that the hallmark of a good villain?

T'Challa: "Staring contest for the throne, go!"
Killmonger: "I fucking hate you so much right now."

Then we have T’Challa; the other side of the coin. T’Challa spends the film trying to figure out how to best serve Wakanda: to be the hero or the king, to help the world or hold true to the traditions that made the country great. When T’Challa visits the ancestral plane for the second time, he comes to the realization that holding steadfastly to tradition can be more dangerous than allowing thoughts and ideals to evolve. After the revelation that his father is directly responsible for the creation of Killmonger, T’Challa stands up to his ghost dad and decides that he is going to be a different king; a king that will hold himself accountable for the decisions of the past. In this moment, T’Challa truly begins to exemplify the statement Shuri made at the beginning of the flick: “Just because something works doesn’t mean it can’t be improved.”

She's just the best.

So how do we reconcile these ideals? Put Killmonger in a Panther suit and let them fight it out, obviously! I’ve read a few reviews that complain that this fight essentially devolves into the classic Marvel ‘two dudes in similar suits squaring up’ battle that we’ve come to know and expect from the genre, and I would tend to agree if one were to completely ignore everything I just discussed. At this point, both of the characters hold the mantle of Black Panther, and the battle is literally for the soul of Wakanda. This weighty and philosophical discrepancy is what makes the fight between the two emotionally impactful. In the end, Killmonger chooses to end his life instead of spending it in bondage (like a total fucking badass), and T’Challa uses his money and resources to create outreach programs throughout the world; to offer help to those who need it. More than the costumes or the powers, Black Panther is about the people that inhabit this planet, and how we can best lift them up. I’m sad to see Killmonger go, but I’m happy that T’Challa is a hero worthy of admiring.

And where do I get that coat?!

People You Trust

If you’ve been following along, you know that I am a HUGE fan of what Marvel has done with building up the supporting characters. From Luis to Ned, from Korg to Kraglin, nearly every character has been given their own moments to shine and become whole. Having said that, the character work in Black Panther makes the supporting casts of previous MCU films look like they’re getting the ‘Jimmy Olsen’ treatment. Each character has an easily traceable arc, and every character is three-dimensional, all without falling into the stereotypical pitfalls that are associated with their archetypes. I love that Shuri is the smartest person on the planet without being socially awkward or an arrogant prick. I love that Nakia is genuinely shaken by what she’s seen as a spy and acts as the ‘we should be doing more to help’ voice without being the nagging, bleeding heart. I like that this is in direct contrast to Okoye, who puts her duty and her country above her personal emotions without being written as a cold-hearted bitch. I love that all of the people I have talked about so far are women; that’s pretty neat!

I want this hanging in my house.

As I’ve said before, investing the time and resources into characters help the world feel complete, but with Panther, there’s an extra layer of depth. When T’Challa visits the ancestral plane the first time, he asks his father how to be a great king. T’Chaka replies: “You’re going to struggle, so you’ll need to surround yourself with people you trust.” If Coogler had not taken the time to develop the characters, this statement would have lost all meaning, as T’Challa would have aligned himself with cardboard cutouts. This character development helps the audience understand why T'Challa chooses these people, and why these people are following their specific courses of action. N’jobu betrays his country to help the rest of the world. W’Kabi’s frustration with the crown leads to him ultimately following Killmonger. M’Baku’s honor stops him from simply taking the heart-shaped herb himself but doesn’t stop him from trolling the fuck out of our heroes. 

How I feel when people ask me for LITERALLY ANYTHING.

Black Panther has accomplished the rare feat of filling the film with remarkable characters. Let’s see if the rest of Hollywood can get on Wakanda’s level.

Wakanda Forever

Speaking of Wakanda’s level, nothing would make me buy a Disneyland Annual Pass faster than if Disney announced that they were beginning construction on Wakanda Land: Inspired by the film Black Panther. Everything about Wakanda portrays this culture as a futuristic civilization rooted firmly in the rituals of their ancestors. Something as simple as the traditional garb of the Boarder Tribe becoming holographic shields in battle, the pristine façade of the throne room is undercut by the patch of red earth directly in the center; maybe to bring them closer to nature, maybe to keep them ‘grounded’ (GET IT?!?) when making their decisions. Even their structures are able to present a sense of familiarity with the ‘grass hut’ look we tend to associate with Africa, while not sacrificing the sleekness of modern architecture. Wakanda looks like it was meticulously thought about, planned out, and developed as a traditional city would be. Everything in the country appears to have a purpose, which adds an extra layer of immersion and helps the audience believe that this is a real place, and a place that we would really like to visit.

Or, you know... live.

It’s fascinating to wonder what a nation untouched by colonizers would look like; a nation that didn’t have their language and customs beaten out of them by a bunch of pasty white folk aiming to spread misery across the globe, a nation that was able to keep their spirituality, musicality, and resources more or less intact. I love that we got a glimpse of what that world might have looked like, but I’m disheartened to think that this world will only ever exist in works of fiction.

The Wise Build Bridges

From casual viewers to die-hard fans, nearly everyone I’ve talked to about Black Panther seems to agree that this movie ‘feels different’ from the rest of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Maybe it’s because it’s the first comic book film in a long time to feature a mostly Black cast and spends the first act of the movie celebrating African culture. Maybe it’s because the women are badasses without being highly sexualized. Maybe it’s because the villain is relatable and sexy as hell. For me, Panther feels different because it’s a big budget movie with a point-of-view that it doesn’t shy away from. So often in tent-pole blockbusters, the film is boiled down to the lowest common denominator in order to appeal to the widest audience possible. It’s good business, and why films like the Fast and Furious and Transformers franchises never go out on a limb to say anything meaningful. It’s mostly just ‘hey, look at this dumb thing we’re going to do’ like a million-dollar episode of jackass.

"I'm Johnny Knoxville, and this is 'Wrecking Balls.'"

Even my superhero films that I love and adore so much are lacking in the ‘socially woke’ department. A lot of the Marvel films are solely popcorn flicks to help us forget how fucking terrible the outside world is, and those that do dabble in ‘message’ filmmaking tend to focus on family, fitting in, and other introspective mumbo jumbo. Black Panther seems to be the first film in the MCU that is able to entertain, while also reflecting on the current state of the world without being preachy. The entire theme of the movie can be boiled down to isolationism. I mean, you strip away all of the great character moments and comedic beats, the movie really is about a king deciding whether or not to help the rest of the world, which is a direct reflection of what’s happening today. We are having the same arguments in this country: should we take in refugees, should we be kicking people out, who really deserves our help? Black Panther isn’t afraid of having any of these conversations, and is kinda staring down the barrel at us in a ‘whatchu gonna do?’ sorta way.

"Pull the trigger, bitch!" - T'Challa, probably

Look no further than the mid credits tag. T’Challa, having decided to make Wakanda’s knowledge and resources known to the world, stands in front of the U.N. and says: “In times of crisis, the wise build bridges while the foolish build barriers. We must find a way to look after one another as if we were one single tribe.”

"You listening, you bloated orange Cabbage Patch Kid?!" - Okoye, probably.

During nearly every interview I’ve watched with Coogler, this particular line is brought up in reference to what the U.S.A. is going through, and each time, Coogler deflects the question by saying that this line is an African proverb and was in the script when Obama was still president; he maintains that it was not necessarily meant to relate to the real world. But let’s examine that for a moment, shall we? Even if the movie was being developed at a time when we were still ruled by someone who could go a whole day without bribing a pornstar, this scene would be an easy cut. This scene isn’t necessary to set anything up, and is more or less a rehash of how the movie ends anyway. So why include it if not to say something? They could have released the clip on YouTube, added it as a bonus feature on the Blu-Ray, or just sacrificed it to the Editing Gods altogether. Yet at some point, a conscious decision was made to put the scene in the theatrical cut of the film, knowing full well that it could alienate a very specific, very vocal group of inbred hicks. Maybe they included it for political purposes, maybe for artistic integrity; who’s to say? Either way, this scene serves to show the Panther isn’t afraid to take a stance, and has truly raised the bar for what we can and should expect from movies like this.

What Doesn’t

The CGI and Action

Let me start by saying this: the emotionality and character development tied to the action is what makes the action work as well as it does. Watching Okoye throw her ‘ridiculous’ wig at Klaw’s guards, watching Nakia take off her high heel (a symbol of patriarchy) and stab a dude in the neck with it, and watching Killmonger and T’Challa Phantom Menace it up on opposite sides of a hover train are what make the action interesting to watch. Having said that, I never once thought that I would feel bored watching a man in a cat-suit take down an armor-clad battle rhino with his bare hands, but here we are.

This seems ill-advised...

Like the previous two movies I wrote about, I don’t think that there’s anything bad about the action. It’s just kinda… there. Like, I would be much happier if the action in this movie was replaced with lectures regarding Wakandan infrastructure and what sort of arts programs they provide in their public schools. That seems infinitely more fascinating to me than watching two CGI body-doubles falling in front of a CGI backdrop.

And hey, SPEAKING OF THE CGI, what a mess. It didn’t detract from the movie as much as the CGI rush-job in Ragnarok, but it bums me out that the CGI in 2008’s Iron Man looked more realistic than most of the third act battle in Panther. Come on Marvel, spend the cash.

… And that’s it. That’s literally the only bad thing that I can say about this movie. Shit, I even started out this section singing the movie’s praises. *Sigh* Black Panther really is just that good folks.

Final Thoughts

The energy of the theater on opening night was absolutely electric; I don't remember seeing theater-goers that excited for a movie since... The last Harry Potter flick maybe? I knew then that the movie was going to be huge, but it wasn't until the next day that I realized just how huge. My wife and I went to Target and as anybody who has ever been to Target knows, one cannot simply go in for a single item; you do a lap and allow Target to tell you what you need. We found ourselves back by the toys and noticed that nearly all of the Black Panther merchandise was sold out. There was a single Okoye action figure and a single Nakia action figure. That's it. LEGOS were sold out, the album was sold out, the other action figures, POP figures, playsets were all sold out. After surveying the consumer carnage, I understood that this movie wouldn't just be huge; it would become a cultural phenomenon. Two months later, the movie has grossed more money than your poultry gods and has shattered nearly every box office record. The craziest thing? I work with people who have never seen a comic book movie in their life; they wouldn’t be able to pick Batman or Spider-Man out of a line-up. These same people are walking around the office proclaiming ‘Wakanda Forever!’ and rocking their Black Panther t-shirts. This film has been able to reach out and speak to those that have no desire to be a part of this world and make them see what we've been seeing all along: that these films have something worthwhile to offer. Seemingly overnight, Black Panther became a cultural touchstone, and I for one can’t wait to tell my grandkids what it was like lining up to see a good man become a king.

So where does Black Panther rank on my list of Marvel Films?

  1. Black Panther

  2. Captain America: The Winter Soldier

  3. The Avengers

  4. Thor: Ragnarok

  5. Captain America: Civil War

  6. Iron Man 3

  7. Iron Man

  8. Spider-Man: Homecoming

  9. Guardians of the Galaxy

10. Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 2

11. Captain America: The First Avenger

12. Avengers: Age of Ultron

13. Thor

14. Thor: The Dark World

15. Doctor Strange

16. Ant-Man

17. Iron Man 2

18. The Incredible Hulk

END

Well that’s it… I’m done! I hope you enjoyed reading them at least a third as much as I enjoyed writing them. If you did, please like, comment, and share these lil’ guys. They love to be read! My plan for the coming weeks is to go back and fix some of my older posts before moving onto my next writing project so stay tuned for that! I’m pretty excited as to where I’m going next… I’m on the tweeties @TheJamesBrock and on Instagram… also thejamesbrock. Still no idea how these things work and I’ll probably die never truly knowing what it means to share a story.

Ladies and gentlemen, every once in a while, you have the pleasure of meeting someone truly spectacular; spectacular because their heart, mind, body, and soul are so in-sync that they are only capable of doing good in this world. My friend Kono is one such person. He is trying to participate in the AIDS Lifecycle: a 545 mile bike ride over seven days from Northern to Southern California in order to raise money and awareness for the fight against AIDS and HIV. Sadly, my friend is still about $1500 away from his goal. This is where you come in. Should you have the money and the inclination, please click here to read his bio and donate. If you can’t donate, please share his page and pass the message along.

Until next time...

Be kind to each other.

-James

Ragna-Rock The House!: A Look Back at Thor: Ragnarok

Marvel had a major problem on their hands with Thor. After a pair of solo outings and two different turns with Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, Thor remained nobody’s favorite Avenger. No director had yet created a tone that resonated with fans and the Thor movies struggled to find an audience. Kenneth Branagh came close with his Shakespearian take on Norse Mythology, but honestly, when was the last time you sat down to watch 2011’s Thor for a reason other than it happened to be on SyFy or because you’re doing some sort of stupid Marvel Retrospective? Thor: The Dark World tried to inject something different by leaning heavily into the Sci-fi/Fantasy genre, which could have been really interesting if the movie wasn’t bogged down by a forgettable plot and an even more forgettable villain. Thor is only relevant in The Avengers due to his fraternal relationship with the villain, and as previously mentioned elsewhere, his glorified cameo in Avengers: Age of Ultron gave him little more to do than stand there and look pretty.

And look pretty he did.

For Thor: Ragnarok, Marvel made a promise. They guaranteed that Ragnarok would do for Thor what The Winter Soldier did for Captain America. While many believed this statement to mean that Ragnarok would shake the foundations upon which the very MCU was formed, I always took it to mean that Marvel would be able to take a less popular character and give them a movie that people would be able to single out as the paragon of the franchise. I’ve gotta say, it really is great to be this correct all of the time. News slowly started trickling out that Marvel was recruiting oddball independent director Taika Waititi to helm the blockbuster, the tone of the film was going to be a cross between Planes, Trains, and Automobiles and Big Trouble in Little China, and the movie was finally going to tackle the Planet Hulk storyline that fans had been foaming at the mouth to see on the big screen for years. When the trailer finally dropped, we all knew that we were in for an entirely different kind of Thor film.

Still gives me chills.

By obliterating preconceived notions of what a Thor movie should be, Thor: Ragnarok easily takes its place as the best Thor film to date and stands as one of my favorite films in the MCU.

What Works

The End of All Things

In approaching Thor: Ragnarok, Waititi, Hemsworth, and the folks at Marvel wanted to wipe the slate clean and do something new with the character. The team decided to subvert the audience’s expectations of what a Thor movie should be by destroying everything that previous movies had built up. And when I say everything, I mean EVERYTHING. Act I saw the passing of Odin, the unceremonious deaths of The Warriors Three, and the annihilation of everyone’s favorite hammer, Mjolnir. In Act II, Thor loses his hair and Hela flippantly reveals the true history of the ‘benevolent’ Asgard. By the end of the film, the Rainbow Bridge is dismantled again, Thor’s missing an eye and ASGARD IS ANNIHILATED by the most Metal looking world-ender we’ve seen thus far.

Ah-AH-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-AH!

However, the dismantling doesn't stop at the objects in the world as ideas themselves are also brought to a close. The back-and-forth between Thor and Loki finally comes to a satisfying resolve as Thor calls his brother out on his stagnation and refusal to change, and essentially tells Loki that he’s at peace with the way things are but that he could be ‘so much more.’ Apparently, ‘more’ to Loki means showing up to save the citizens of Asgard in the most grandiose way possible. It leads to the brothers fighting side-by-side and a scene on the ship in which Loki and Thor non-verbally express that they are here for each other (awwwww). It’s going to make it that much sweeter when Thanos pulls out Loki’s still beating heart and shows it to Thor before he dies.

Though it will probably be a less painful moment than this.
Incidentally, this is what a caffeine headache feels like.

Lastly, we come to the God of Thunder himself. In Thor, our titular hero wants the throne but ultimately realizes that he is not mature enough to rule over the nine realms. Thor: The Dark World sees the Asgardian Avenger straight-up refuse his birthright to his father (who turns out to be Loki, but he doesn’t know that at the time). Thor’s basically been spending these movies, and even the Avengers films, running from his responsibilities as king, choosing instead to remain on the ground and fight with the commoners. Ragnarok forces Thor to run towards his problems, and not away from them, because that’s what heroes do. If this were the Thor we first met seven years ago, I could easily see him turning into Valkyrie on Sakaar; a drunk-yet-sexy junker aspiring to absolutely nothing and hiding in the butthole of the galaxy. Instead, Thor finally comes to the realization that one cannot escape destiny; all one can do is make the most of it. Thor fulfills the prophecy and causes Ragnarok, sure, but he saves his people and ends the movie taking his place as the rightful king of Asgard. I would like to see where his story goes next, how he plans to rebuild his home and find refuge for his people. But in the end, Thor's arc is over and it’s been fun to see him grow. If his head ends up getting crushed like a grape, at least we got some satisfying closure to the story of The Mighty Thor.

Revengers Assemble!

Thor Supports

Part of the great thing about unceremoniously killing off The Warriors Three (besides them being dead) is that it opened up a whole new world of characters to explore. I would watch a stand-alone film starring literally any one of the characters introduced in this movie. You tell me that Marvel is pulling a Beyonce and is dropping a Valkyrie movie with absolutely no warning tomorrow? Sorry work, I can’t come in because I have something more important to do with my time. Netflix is producing a TV series featuring Jeff Goldblum’s Grandmaster? Sorry work, you can’t expect me to wait until the weekend to binge this one. There’s going to be a slew Burger King commercials starring Korg and Miek over the next several years? Sorry work, I need to make sure that I am always and forever home in order to watch these commercials air live on TV… I’m starting to suspect that I am experiencing some dissatisfaction with my job…

"Hello there! I'm Korg, this is Miek,
And we're here to tell you about a new meat-based food sandwich!"

Marvel is sitting on a veritable goldmine of obscure characters, and while you may not want to risk your jobs in the same way that I am wont to do, who of you out there wouldn’t be excited to see Tessa Thompson lead her own Marvel movie as Valkyrie? I’m just saying that if Hemsworth is done wielding the hammer, it would be very simple and outstanding to pass the mantle to a woman of color that most people fell in love with almost immediately.

...For some reason...

The repercussions reach far beyond the realm of this movie. We’re already getting to see Kraglin as Youndu, hopefully Luis becomes Ant-Man one day, and I pray to any god that will listen that I will get to see Ned dawn some sort of costume before I die (please be Kraven, please be Kraven). As we get ever closer to the end of the current iteration of the MCU and shift our gaze to the distant horizon of Phase 4, I’m comforted in knowing the Marvel has taken the time to craft and explore these supporting characters in ways that make them feel whole. I can’t wait to see what surprises await once the dust settles.

No Banner, Only Hulk!

Marvel finally cracked the Hulk code. The hardest tightrope to walk with a Hulk-centric movie is that the audience is waiting for Banner to do the one thing that he is actively trying to avoid. Ragnarok circumvents this by giving us a fully-formed, slightly more intelligent Hulk from the jump. Hulk isn’t just a destruction set-piece waiting to happen; thanks to Ruffalo’s performance, Hulk is a fleshed out character with feelings and emotions other than anger. It makes me so sad when Thor tells Hulk that Earth hates him and he storms away like a toddler. It’s the closest Hulk has come to being human. Then, we get the exact opposite of what we’re used to and see Hulk physically fight himself from turning into Banner, which has to be one of the most emotionally painful transformations I’ve witnessed on screen.

That's real fear. Like 'walking in on your parents having sex' fear.

Thus, Banner is brought back to us and is slowly catching up to the fact that he’s been a murdering Hulk for two years. Ruffalo’s neurotic take on Banner as he tries not to have a panic attack and keep Hulk at bay makes for some great moments between the scientist and the God, and Ruffalo himself is able to shine doing what he does best: bringing sincerity to the character. It’s made apparent that Banner may not come back if he turns into the Hulk again, and argues with Thor about not wanting to intervene in his ‘family thing.’ Yet, Banner seems to sacrifice that side of himself in order to help save the Asgardians on the bridge. That’s huge to me. In the past, there has always been an unspoken guarantee that Hulk will revert to Banner eventually. This time, Banner has no idea if he’ll ever come back, but elects to do what is right anyway, because it is right (sensing a theme here?). The rumor is that Ragnarok is Part I of Banner’s three-movie arc, and I cannot wait to see where the Russo’s take him next.

Kirby’s Dreamland

In describing the visuals of this Ragnarok, I feel as though the guys over at Honest Trailers said it the best: “Thor’s a cosmic Viking created by nerds on acid in the 60s. It SHOULD look crazy.” 

I mean come on! Jetpack Dragon!

A lot of comic book movies from several different studios (this one included) seem like they’re afraid to lean too heavily into the actual source material for fear of alienating the common movie goer. The problem with this fear is that everything ends up looking the same. I’ve described before how fucking ugly Captain America: Civil War is and if anything is going to kill comic book movies, it’s going to be this ‘lowest common denominator’ filmmaking that the studios seem content with exploiting. 

Might as well be watching it through a coffee filter.

Then suddenly, a hero emerges! Thor took a look around at the competition, handed his stein to the nearest bar wench, proclaimed ‘Hold my mead!’ and went streaking across the battlefield in the zaniest way possible. 

I'm picturing cartwheels.

Sakaar looks like it was taken directly from the pages of a Jack Kirby illustrated book, from the characters to the set design to the alien graffiti on the walls, and feels like a fantastical, real planet as a result.

Power Ranger villains or Sakaarian Guards. You decide!

I know that there has been some comparison between this and Guardians of the Galaxy, but I don’t think that this comparison is a bad thing. I go to the movies to be transported to different worlds, universes, realms, whatever you want to call them. Ragnarok is a movie that is not ashamed of where it came from, and in the face of gritty realism, has chosen to live its life out loud. I hope that future films from any studio can arrive to theaters with the same in-your-face confidence that Ragnarok came to us with.

What Doesn’t

The Action

If you take out Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song, there is nothing special about the way the action is presented in this film. Look, the action in Ragnarok is generally fine, I’m just bummed out that we’ve seen it all before. We’ve seen Hulk fight Thor. We’ve seen Thor fight a horned sibling with a staff. We’ve seen superheroes take down vehicles with their bare hands.

SSSSSOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNN

Like I said in my Spider-Man: Homecoming retrospective, it’s difficult to find new ways to present action when the physicality of the hero is so specific. I’m not saying that the action wasn’t fun to watch, but I was disappointed that they couldn’t deliver an interesting, new piece of meat for us to chew on. Based on the movies directly before and after Ragnarok it seems like Marvel has fallen into a bit of an action rut, and after 18 movies it’s kinda hard to blame them. However, Marvel needs to refocus developing their set pieces into moments that are emotionally relevant and visually interesting, otherwise why even bother with action at all? Then again, there seems to be an awful lot of of our heroes screaming in that Infinity War trailer and the Russo’s are notorious in the MCU for the brutality of their fights, so what do I know from emotionally relevant?

Just... FOR WHAT POSSIBLE REASON?!

The CGI

Let me start by saying that not all of the CGI is bad. Shit, that Hulk I posted above looks like a living, breathing creature. More than that, the jiggle-physics on Hulk’s bare ass are extraordinary, and it really illustrates how far we’ve come as a society that the naughty-bits of a CGI creature are paramount to the general enjoyment of a movie. Having said that, I thought most special-effects teams had reached a point in movies where backgrounds were generally figured out, yet some of the scenes in Ragnarok look like the characters were photo-shopped into a Windows screensaver. This is the most apparent during the scene in Norway. Initially meant to take place in an ally in New York (based on the director’s commentary, behind-the-scenes footage, and the trailer posted above), the emotional resonance of the scene is undercut by the lack of polish on the special effects. It’s hard to take Odin seriously when he points and says “look at that” when we as the audience know that they’re on a backlot in Atlanta.

In a world of magic hammers and sexy Cate Blanchetts,
The scenery is what's most unrealistic.

Then there’s Asgard: a city that looked more believable seven years ago. It’s painful to see some of the sharp contrasts between practical sets and computer generated backgrounds, and succeeds in completely pulling me out of the moment. Why does it seem like CGI is not as convincing as it was in the past? Am I just getting old? I feel like I’m having Revenge of the Sith flashbacks.

FOR WHAT POSSIBLE REASON?!

I understand that this is a made-up world with made up characters within a made-up universe, and normally I let things like this slide, but when CGI is this shoddy I feel insulted. I mean, I’ve seen the movie twice in theaters and bought the Blu-Ray, guys. You can afford to spend a couple extra bucks on rendering.

Final Thoughts

I’ve noticed that some people complain that this movie isn’t heavier, and that the very idea of Ragnarok, literally the death of the gods, should have been handled with more weight and less jokes about The Devil’s Anus. To those people, I say I don’t disagree. I know that this is a dramatic departure from the round-about insults I tend to hurl your way in moments such as these, but I genuinely think you have a leg to stand on this time. To me, the enjoyment one will have watching this movie depends on the type of experience one is looking for. If you wanted a Shakespearian meditation on the fall of Asgard similar to the tone of the original Thor or even something a bit darker like The Winter Soldier, I can understand how you were disappointed. That’s not what I was looking for. When I went to see Thor: Ragnarok, I wanted a movie in which I could see Hemsworth finally utilize his comedic timing and charisma to its full potential. I wanted to see an irreverent Marvel movie with jokes that hit 99% of the time. I wanted to see Hulk body-slam a zombie wolf on the Rainbow Bridge (admittedly, I did not know that I wanted this when I walked into the theater). But really, I wanted to finally have a reason to like and care about a character that was introduced to me on the big screen nearly a decade ago. Sure it’ll make Thor's inevitable death in Infinity War (calling it!) that much harder to swallow, but it’s worth it. Thor: Ragnarok delivered everything that I’ve wanted from a Thor movie since 2011, and if this is the last solo Thor film we get starring Hemsworth, at least I can be grateful in the fact that they hammered (GET IT?!?) this movie out of the park.

So where does Thor: Ragnarok rank on my list of Marvel Films?

  1. Captain America: The Winter Soldier

  2. The Avengers

  3. Thor: Ragnarok

  4. Captain America: Civil War

  5. Iron Man 3

  6. Iron Man

  7. Spider-Man: Homecoming

  8. Guardians of the Galaxy

  9. Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 2

10. Captain America: The First Avenger

11. Avengers: Age of Ultron

12. Thor

13. Thor: The Dark World

14. Doctor Strange

15. Ant-Man

16. Iron Man 2

17. The Incredible Hulk

END

Only one movie left, folks, and it’s the big one! Tune in next week for a look at Black Panther! I’ll do my best not to botch it. In the meantime, if you like what I’m writing, please like, comment, and share these lil’ guys. They love to be read! I’m on the tweeties @TheJamesBrock and on Instagram… also thejamesbrock. Still no idea of how these things work and it makes me sad to think that I’ll have to figure these out one day.

Ladies and gentlemen, every once in a while, you have the pleasure of meeting someone truly spectacular; spectacular because their heart, mind, body, and soul are so in-sync that they are only capable of doing good in this world. My friend Kono is one such person. He is trying to participate in the AIDS Lifecycle: a 545 mile bike ride over seven days from Northern to Southern California in order to raise money and awareness for the fight against AIDS and HIV. Sadly, my friend is still about $1500 away from his goal. This is where you come in. Should you have the money and the inclination, please click here to read his bio and donate. If you can’t donate, please share his page and pass the message along.

Until next time...

Be kind to each other.

-James