I Had Something For This #2

So many leadership spills, and an off-beat artisinal modern fantasy film

We may or may not possibly have a new Prime Minister by the end of the week (or: are we really going to do this again?)

I turn away from Australian politics for one second and the next minute it’s a dumpster fire that’s been set alight by a group of racoons with flamethrowers and no gum (which makes more sense than what is actually happening)

It’s baffling, tiring and sort of redundant. If you took away the role of Prime Minister very little would really change. Not that that sentiment helps in a time like this when Malcolm Turnbull has stumbled into his own personal Promethean hell, enduring challenge after challenge from Peter Dutton (and now Julie Bishop), further castrating the effectiveness of governmental rule and launching an onslaught of memes (because how else to cope with the crippling of our democratic system by short-sighted, small-minded folk?)

It’s been reduced to pitiful mudslinging and a ‘never back down at any cost’ mentality that hamstrings and shadows some of the genuinely validated work that’s been done. A clusterfuck of embarrassment. Dominated more by personal ideologies than pragmatic, compassionate governing. Political discourse has been hijacked by the crass online rhetoric, devolving into shouting matches that pierces the soul. One should never be so naive to think a democratic system would be perfect, there’s just way too many people for that sort of thing, but basic inarguable comportment in a dignified, understanding and respectful manner shouldn’t be thrown to the wolves for some reckless jockeying for power.

At least we’re not in the United States amirite? Where things are so fraught that I wouldn’t be surprised if a second civil war just randomly ignited on Twitter. The value of democracy is a quaint, fragile thing in this day and age. One that is being constantly abused and taken advantage of by parties on all sides. It’s a predilection of this current culture of instant gratification that if one way is not quite going right, it must be swiftly dealt with. So uncertainty ensues, on the whims of insiders, and the public are at loss, distrustful and wondering where exactly the world is going.

I Kill Monsters is a low-key, coastal reflection of Stranger Things

I Kill Monsters is way too cutesy for its own good. A hipster’s version of modern fantasy — all folk tunes, rustic seaside villages mingled impossibly with forests straight out of a tumblr account. I mean it has Imogen Poots for crying out loud. Barbara is a precocious teenager who thinks she’s smarter than everyone else around her, speaking like how a knowitall teenager thinks a cool adult speaks. She wears rabbit ears (spirit guide), hates electronics, has a quirky hideout, wears glasses and funky clothing from an op shop, she’s into Dungeon and Dragons, and has a plucky English sidekick. It’s an Insta-worthy sort of film. Barbara is annoying in a lot of ways. Too aware that she’s different, with no foil, no pushback. She’s an outline. At home best when the fantasy goes impressively fully throttle.

She’s also into baseball, specifically Phillies pitcher Harry Covaleski from a century ago and his feats against the New York Giants (you can see where this is going). The thing is she’s selfish, and never seems to understand real world consequences. It’s not a surprise that Barbara’s battle against giants is an analogy of her psychological battles. The fantasies we create to stop the depressing crush of reality destroying us. It reminds me of the far superior Colossal from last year. The giants become a need, a desperate recoil of purpose that Barbara that yearns for, her world crumbling, making less and less sense. This fight was her safety, a constant. I can dig that, even if it feels way too curated to truly be transcendent.

I see myself in Barbara’s reality breaking down. Her sadness and raw emotion that has been bottled within. I do not if I have created a realm around me but I do hope to see the light, to see the beauty of what is real. The storm passing and maybe a sliver of humanity drawn in, close to others, to the ones I want to reach out to, but unable to find a way to face them.