PAGES & FRAMES/ Monthly Roundup

What I read and watched in NOVEMBER

[November was a month for taking care of other things, people, cats. Sadly, not myself and certainly not this space.]

favorite captured things

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p a g e s

• NIGHTS AT THE CIRCUS by ANGELA CARTER
  The tales of a winged woman, hatched out of an egg one cold winter’s night. Written by a smitten American following her around the globe. An emblem in anthropomorphising Time. One of the first things that stands out in Nights at the Circus for me is the centrality of time, both as a force and a theme. Time shapes the characters' lives and serves as a constant presence in the narrative. An early hint that something unusual is happening comes during Walser's first meeting with Fevvers, where a mysterious timeslip occurs.When the story transitions to Siberia, the narrative approach to time shifts. Lizzie delivers a passionate speech rejecting reliance on the future, declaring: “we live, always, in the here and now, the present. To pin your hopes upon the future is to consign those hopes to a hypothesis, which is to say, a nothingness” (p. 239). In contrast, the Mongolian nomads caring for Walser are described as existing outside time, embodying a state that predates "Imperial Time." The text suggests that, at the cusp of modernity, most people might have agreed with these nomads' rejection of time as a meaningful concept. This timelessness is tied to a kind of magical realism where fact and fiction blur. However, this portrayal is somewhat disappointing. For one, it risks the kind of idealized "othering" that Carter critiques in Walser’s romanticized view of Russia. The idea of a state of timelessness, entirely without history, seems implausible and reductive—denying the complexities of humanity rather than affirming them. Moreover, this shift in focus feels unsatisfying. Lizzie sees time as an obstacle because it discourages action in the present. The nomads, however, view it as a malady that compels action and diminishes the world’s magic. This latter view feels clichéd and unworthy of the novel’s usual intelligence. Carter’s novel is deeply concerned with boundaries, particularly the ways in which they are transgressed. Highlighting the influence of external forces—cultural, social, and historical—on shaping what we call human nature. The fragility of these constructs suggests that humanity itself lacks any “true” definition, existing instead as a product of convention. More importantly, it underpins the triumphant declaration that Fevvers will "become fact" in the 20th century, symbolizing her defiance of imposed categories and her assertion of humanity on her own terms. Carter’s world is a construct of conventions, where no objective reality exists beyond what we choose. While this notion might go a step further than some readers can accept—it’s one thing to reject essence, another to assert only culture—it remains an exhilarating and liberating perspective. If Carter shatters the novel’s fragile mold in the process, it’s a bold and fitting act.

• THE ART OF HOWL’S MOVING CASTLE
  Truly a thoughtful gift for a fan of animation and the moving hand drawn image. A great collection of behind the scenes footage and in between animation sheets, great study material for a visual artist. Thank you μπου <3.

• ALL ART IS ECOLOGICAL by TIMOTHY MORTON
  Timothy Morton's All Art is Ecological is a thought-provoking exploration of the intersection between art and ecological awareness. Through a blend of philosophy, popular culture, and environmental critique, Morton challenges readers to rethink humanity's relationship with nature. The book emphasizes the strange and uncanny qualities of ecological thought, using vivid metaphors and unique perspectives to illustrate the interconnectedness of all living things. For the interesting concepts and thought provoking ideas, it really suffers from a lack of structure and its dense and abstract style can feel inaccessible at times. That’s that i guess.

• THE FACES by TOVE DITLEVSEN
  Tove Ditlevsen’s The Faces explores the interplay between mental illness, creativity, and space, using the protagonist Lise’s experiences to reflect broader themes of alienation and identity. The apartment represents both a refuge from external pressures and a site of intense psychological distress, highlighting the blurred boundaries between public and private life. In contrast, the psychiatric hospital offers a liminal, heterotopic space where Lise begins to process her psychosis through poetic writing, which is portrayed as both therapeutic and transformative. This act of writing, framed as a utopian escape, underscores the healing potential of creativity in navigating mental health challenges. By integrating spatial metaphors with psychological depth, the novel provides insights into the lived experience of psychosis, fostering empathy and challenging the traditional medicalized perspective on mental illness. Ultimately, The Faces bridges literary and medical discourse, offering a profound commentary on the human condition and the power of artistic expression.

• THE PASSION OF NEW EVE by ANGELA CARTER
  Angela Carter has crafted both dazzling masterpieces and some uneven novels. Her writing is steeped in a hypnotic, baroque style, brimming with vivid, original imagery. The Passion of New Eve, a surreal work layered with symbolism and satire, balances precariously between feminist critique and overindulgence. Through this mordant exploration of femininity in a post-apocalyptic world, Carter examines the ideal woman as shaped by male-dominated Hollywood or redefined by a radical cult of female Earth-worshippers and plastic surgeons.

  The novel serves as Carter's homage to the myth of Tiresias, the Greek prophet who lived as both a man and a woman—predictably favoring the latter. Angela Carter’s The Passion of New Eve is a deeply political text that raises significant concerns regarding gender identity and identity politics. The novel reflects Carter’s engagement with radical second-wave feminist ideologies, which form the crux of its narrative and thematic focus. However, when examined through the lens of contemporary third-wave feminism, Carter’s approach appears troubling. Her portrayal of gender as a dichotomous battleground between men and women, and her depiction of a dystopian matriarchal system designed to counteract patriarchal structures, can be interpreted as reductive and polarizing.

  Carter’s exploration of gender identity situates it within a combative framework, effectively constructing a zero-sum game where power dynamics are inextricably tied to violent, gendered conflict. This framing risks oversimplifying the complexities of identity politics and gender fluidity, which third-wave feminist thought seeks to emphasize. Moreover, the matriarchal society Carter envisions, rather than subverting oppressive norms, mirrors the authoritarianism it seeks to dismantle, rendering her critique both provocative and contentious.

  While the novel is undeniably a product of its time, its radical perspectives invite critical discourse on the evolution of feminist thought and the ways in which literary texts engage with and challenge contemporary sociopolitical paradigms. The Passion of New Eve, thus, remains for me a compelling yet deeply problematic text for modern feminist critique and discourse.

• THE YELLOW WALLPAPER by CHARLOTTE PERKINS GILMAN
  Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s The Yellow Wallpaper is a fever dream wrapped in delicate floral patterns and anchored by the gnawing sense of something deeply, deeply wrong. This chilling tale of a woman confined to a room for “rest” treatment spirals into a haunting exploration of isolation, autonomy, and the confines—both literal and figurative—of 19th-century gender roles. The wallpaper itself becomes an unsettling character, its twisting, suffocating patterns mirroring the protagonist’s descent into madness. Gilman’s sharp critique of medical and societal norms cloaks itself in deceptively lyrical prose, making this story as eerie as it is illuminating. By the time the final thread of reality unravels, you’ll never look at wallpaper the same way again.

• A SPY IN THE HOUSE OF LOVE by ANAIS NIN
  *disassociating*
  When individuals consistently mold themselves to meet the expectations of their partners, they risk losing touch with their authentic identities. This lack of self-awareness leads to a reliance on external validation and a tendency to seek a sense of self through others. As a result, the individual often feels disingenuous, as if performing a role, which hinders the ability to cultivate genuine, profound emotional connections. Without a strong foundation of self-love and understanding, it becomes nearly impossible to extend authentic love to others. Or so a psychologist would put it.
  fucks sake Sabinaaaaa

• ΠΩΣ ΝΑ ΠΕΤΑΤΕ ΕΝΑ ΜΩΡΟ ΣΤΗΝ ΘΑΛΑΣΣΑ ΚΑΙ Η ΔΗΜΟΚΡΑΤΙΑ ΝΑ ΘΡΙΑΜΒΕΥΕΙ του ΘΑΝΑΣΗ ΤΡΙΑΡΙΔΗ (HOW TO THROW A BABY INTO THE SEA AND MAKE DEMOCRACY TRIUMPH) by THANASIS TRIARIDIS
  An amalgamation of vitality, realness and crisp tongue. must read for the greek context.

f r a m e s

movies

• THE MUMMY (1999), dir. Stephen Sommers

• THE MUMMY RETURNS (2001), dir. Stephen Sommers

• THE MUMMY: THE TOMB OF THE DRAGON EMPEROR (2008), dir. Rob Cohen
  Stephen Sommers' films, particularly The Mummy (1999), The Mummy Returns (2001), and Van Helsing (2004), represent a distinct era of Hollywood action-adventure, defined by an exuberant blend of fantastical storytelling, humor, and explosive visuals. These films have earned a lasting place in pop culture thanks to Sommers' ability to marry swashbuckling adventure with supernatural thrills, often balanced with moments of tongue-in-cheek comedy. His work, especially The Mummy, remains emblematic of the late '90s and early 2000s style of blockbuster filmmaking, which thrived on fun, larger-than-life characters, and high-octane spectacle.

  In The Mummy, Sommers revitalizes the classic monster movie genre by blending Indiana Jones-inspired action with supernatural horror. The film’s tone, a carefully calibrated mix of humor, romance, and danger, stands as one of the director's signature traits. Brendan Fraser’s charismatic Rick (HIS NAME IS RICOCHET-τι αλλο χρειαζεσαι για να το δεις) O’Connell provides the rugged hero archetype, while Rachel Weisz’s Evelyn Carnahan adds brains and heart to the duo. Together, they face off against Arnold Vosloo’s menacing Imhotep, whose resurrection unleashes ancient curses. Sommers' direction here, combined with the film's visual effects, creates an cult cinematic experience that manages to feel both old-fashioned and refreshingly new at the time, definitely not an oscar-worthy one.

  Sommers' films are often noted for their fast-paced, high-energy sequences, which cater to both action lovers and fans of supernatural lore. The Mummy Returns continued this trend, offering bigger stakes, while Van Helsing took a different turn, focusing on the iconic characters of classic horror—Dracula, Frankenstein, and the Wolfman—against the backdrop of a fantastical, steampunk world.

  The Mummy series is often celebrated for its engaging characters and wit and the visual spectacle remains a hallmark of his style, and thus The Mummy remains the high point of Sommers' career, striking a perfect balance between adventure and fantasy, while his subsequent films became increasingly burdened by the demands of spectacle.

  For fans of early 2000s adventure films, Sommers’ works offer a nostalgic look at a time when large-scale fantasy and humor blended seamlessly. While the films' reliance on action and visual effects may date them to some degree, The Mummy stands as a timeless classic, a reminder of the carefree fun of the genre before it became over-saturated with more serious, darker takes.

  The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor marks a significant departure from the previous installments of the franchise, shifting the action from Egypt to China. This bold decision injects a fresh vitality into the series, preventing it from growing stale. The new setting allows the filmmakers to explore Chinese mythology, with impressive results in terms of visuals and storytelling. Jet Li’s portrayal of Emperor Han, the Dragon Emperor, brings a gravitas to the villain that heightens the stakes of the action sequences. His performance, alongside Michelle Yeoh as Zi Yuan, offers a dynamic contrast that brings a sense of authenticity and depth to the Eastern cultural elements. Yeoh, in particular, commands the screen with such poise and strength that her performance often outshines the rest of the cast, elevating the film beyond its more formulaic aspects. However, despite the strength of the new cast and the refreshing cultural shift, Tomb of the Dragon Emperor ultimately struggles to fully integrate its bold new direction with the established Mummy formula. The storyline, though filled with potential, often feels forced, as if the franchise’s familiar structure doesn’t quite fit with the new setting and characters. The film’s tone can feel disjointed, and the CGI-heavy action scenes sometimes overshadow the more grounded, character-driven moments that made the earlier films so beloved. Despite the film’s attempts to breathe new life into the series, the end result is a movie that seems to push a square peg into a round hole, leaving audiences with a sense of missed potential.

• PRIEST (2011), dir. Scott Stewart
  Priest is a movie that promises a lot with its dystopian vampire-Western mashup but falls short of delivering anything beyond flashy visuals and lackluster action. Set in a world ravaged by vampires, it follows a warrior priest (Paul Bettany) who defies the church to rescue his kidnapped niece. While the film’s gothic atmosphere and post-apocalyptic vibe are eye-catching, they can't mask the flimsy script and the wooden performances. Bettany, in particular, seems lost in a sea of monotone delivery, leaving the film’s emotional weight dangling like a forgotten relic​. The movie borrows heavily from other action-horror franchises like Blade Runner and Underworld without adding anything fresh or compelling to the mix. It’s a bit like biting into a candy bar only to find out it’s all wrapper and no substance. The vampires are underwhelming, the action scenes are forgettable, and the exploration of faith and rebellion feels more like an afterthought than a deep dive. Priest tries hard to be cool but ends up feeling more like a missed opportunity than the thrilling ride it could’ve been. The first 3 minutes of lore explaining though have saved this movie in my eyes. All hail Genndy Tartakovsy, the director of this clip and famous for other animated classics like Dexter’s Laboratory (1996 - 2003) and Samurai Jack (2001 - 2017).

• THE YEAR THAT NEVER CAME (2024), dir. Bogdan Muresanu

  The New Year That Never Came stands as a poignant example of how film can serve as a time machine, transporting viewers to a specific historical moment, only to return them to safety just as the emotional and social upheavals of the era begin to seep into the viewer's very core. One scene in which Mureşanu suggests that the political unrest that led to the Ceauşescus’ escape was merely sparked by some firecrackers will likely be contested by local historians and audiences alike. However, the film’s strengths—its emotional depth and nuanced storytelling—will likely triumph over any ensuing controversy.

• EL CONDE (2023), dir. Pablo Larraín
  El Conde reimagines history through a dark, absurd lens. In it, Chile's infamous dictator Augusto Pinochet is transformed into a vampire, a chilling metaphor for the lasting impact of his brutal regime. Unlike Pablo Larraín’s previous politically focused films—Tony Manero (2008), Post Mortem (2010), and No (2012)—this film feels less direct in its political commentary, instead leaning into a bitter, almost nihilistic exploration of power and its grotesque endurance. The movie combines political critique with absurd horror, portraying Pinochet as an immortal predator, echoing the traditional vampire archetype. This transformation reflects the unyielding, poisonous influence of his dictatorship, which still haunts Chile's collective consciousness. Larraín portrays Pinochet not merely as a man but as a symbol of enduring, corrupt power—one that refuses to die and remains an ever-present specter. While El Conde may not have the sharp political edge of Larraín's earlier works, it still delivers a powerful critique of power's ability to endure and mutate into something monstrous. The image of Pinochet silently hovering over Santiago perfectly captures the film’s blend of dark absurdity and unresolved political anger, making it a haunting and symbolic statement on the legacy of tyranny.

• THE SUBSTANCE (2024), dir. Coralie Fargeat
  Coralie Fargeat's attempt to engage with the tradition of body horror narratives and narratives that explore duality, yet it falters under the weight of its own misogyny. The film presents a troubling portrayal of women, reducing them to mere objects of voyeurism while simultaneously critiquing societal pressures regarding beauty and youth. This contradictory stance leaves viewers grappling with the director's internalized prejudices, as the protagonist is depicted as an almost brainless victim, ultimately reinforcing the very stereotypes the film seeks to critique. Moreover, the film's critique of gender representation is complicated by the fact that it is directed by a woman, which raises questions about the internalized biases that inform its narrative. While it aims to highlight the absurdities of the beauty industry and the pressures women face, it ultimately falls short by failing to provide a nuanced exploration of female subjectivity. Instead, it reinforces the very stereotypes it seeks to challenge, leaving viewers with a sense of discomfort regarding the portrayal of women and the implications of such representations in contemporary cinema.

  Despite its artistic aspirations, fails to deliver a meaningful commentary on gender representation in cinema. The excessive violence and gratuitous imagery serve little narrative purpose, raising ethical concerns about the filmmaker's intent. While the film has garnered some acclaim, it is emblematic of a larger cultural tolerance for the objectification of women, prompting a call for more rigorous criticism of such works in the future. The issue of body horror is: it is and can be extremely visually striking, but almost most of the time it seems more like shock tactics than a meaningful exploration of identity or societal critique. Some might argue that Fargeat’s commitment to extreme body horror could dilute the film’s feminist message. Instead of providing a “cathartic” or transformative experience, the horror might feel like an exploitation of the very concepts it seeks to critique, turning women’s suffering into spectacle rather than a means of empowerment or liberation, or even “interpretation” of a situation. Thus, while The Substance is ambitious in its use of body horror, it does prioritize shocking visuals over emotional resonance or a more nuanced exploration of the human cost of beauty standards.

• THE CELL (2000), dir. Tansem Singh
  Nothing major but THE SET DESIGN AND THE CINEMATOGRAPHY!The true brilliance of The Cell emerges when we are drawn into the nightmarish labyrinth of Stargher’s mind. The film's set design and cinematography work wonders in transporting us to a dark, twisted fantasy realm that perfectly mirrors the psychological chaos of the character. The intricate set design becomes a crucial element in conveying the distorted nature of Stargher’s psyche, blending surreal, fantastical environments with elements of his trauma to create an immersive and unsettling world. The sheer creativity behind the set pieces—whether it’s the labyrinthine architecture or the chilling symbolism of the victim's environments—adds an essential layer to the narrative. As Catherine delves deeper into Stargher’s mental landscape, she uncovers the duality of the man she is hunting—he’s both a sadistic, omnipotent figure and a frightened, abused child trapped in the traumatic grip of his father. The portrayal of Stargher’s victims within this mental landscape is not designed to evoke empathy but to reflect his cruelty in its purest form, making it one of the most visually striking sequences in horror. Here, set design becomes more than a backdrop; it is a storytelling tool that immerses us in the emotional and psychological turmoil at the heart of the film. Though these sequences may not be as terrifying by today's standards, the set design remains a masterclass in using visual elements to delve into complex themes of trauma and identity, making this a standout moment in psychological horror. I am aspiring to achieve something so big in set and costume design.

• THE CABIN IN THE WOODS (2011), dir. Drew Goddard
  every rewatch is a refreshing look into one of the most interesting takes in structuralising the horror movie. Run, don’t walk if you haven’t seen it.

series

• TWIN PEAKS (1990, 1991, 2017)
  A rewatch, from a bit of maturer and older me.

anime

• DOROHEDORO (2020)
  HIGH OCTANE INSANITY IN A MAGIC, DRUG-SATURATED WORLD. Impeccable art style.

• JJK S02 (2023)
  A love so deep <3. I am extremely enjoying my psychological turmoil after episode 8 for once again, thank you very much.

• MY HAPPY MARRIAGE OVA (2024)
  I miss Miyo and Kiyoka so much. January can not come fast enough.

• BLUE BOX (2024)
  Something ultra cute for my weekly watch list. Still do not know what to make of it.