JulieDawn

I’ve moved my blog over to Blogger as of 18May2015, so any new entries will be posted there.

http://juliechaston.blogspot.ca/

I have a very strange brain. At least, I've accepted that I must do (and I’m sure various friends, family members and co-workers would heartily agree). I know that everyone says they sometimes have a song stuck in their head; usually that dreaded snippet that plays over and over and over and over and over and over again. And again. And just when you think it’s gone:  again and again and again, until you’re mentally screaming in agony. But I'm pretty sure I'm worse: I'm never without a song in my head.

Because I research to death anything and everything that sparks my interest, I Googled it…discovering endless pages of studies and articles and theories about the ‘earworm’. Yes, apparently that’s the scientific term – quite appropriate I’d say. Right up there with tapeworms and other assorted parasites.

Skimming over a few entries, I found them to be quite repetitive – just like the subject matter – and most of them rather unhelpfully concluded that it’s a result of brain neurons getting “stuck” on a particular “repeating loop”. That sounds to me more like a symptom than a cause, but hey, I’m not a scientist…

And besides, in my head it’s usually more than just a snippet of a song. No, I am usually blessed with the whole entire thing on endless repeat, full orchestral  effects and back-up singers; the whole shebang, although some sections do tend to repeat more than others. It can get noisy in there.

Several articles did touch on how music in some form has been a fundamental part of human evolution: it’s accepted that the part of our brain which responds to music, developed long before the part that responds to language. I suppose that means that it comes from a less evolved, less complex part of our psyche. That makes sense to me:  who hasn’t been moved to the core by a deep base line or rhythmic drum beat; reacting to and with it before you even know what the actual song is? It’s ingrained in us, we can’t help but feel it. So it’s not surprising that music pops into our heads at the strangest times – for some of us, it’s as autonomous as breathing.

Reading on, I found this quote from a 2012 ‘The Telegraph’ article by Rosa Silverman quite interesting:  “Word memory association, situations of stress, a wandering mind and altered emotional states can all be blamed for the phenomenon, psychologist Dr Lauren Stewart said.”

Well, apparently I’m a victim of at least one or more of these mostly dubious circumstances at all times – because I literally do have at least one or more songs stuck in my head at all times. Oh dear.

For added fun, I also seem to have certain “go-to” songs that my brain likes to bring forth under certain circumstances. 

For instance:  The German National Anthem.  Yes, I said the German National Anthem…and no, I am not German, I’m British & Canadian. But that anthem pops up frequently when I’m doing something like taking a brisk walk, or when something isn’t working and I’m determined to fix it. This has been happening for years, and was actually really bothering me...because It Made No Sense. Until one day, I figured it out: F1 Racing. You see, I enjoy watching Formula 1 and have for a long time. And there were many years when Michael Schumacher won ALL the time.  Therefore...they’d play the German National Anthem ALL the time. So I assume my silly brain associated that with a sort of “Winning!”; conquering hero mentality. At least, I hope so, because otherwise I’m apparently a closet, very nationalistic German. (I have been to Germany, I liked it a lot, but...) Anyway, I also get “Let It Snow” – which thankfully does make sense:  when it snows, I hear it. Always…although it sometimes segues into “Silver Bells”, but I’m okay with that.

“Jingle Bells” is somewhat more perplexing. I tend to not only hear, but sing that one - and not always just to myself! – whenever I get impatient. And once it’s there, it’s there for the long haul. Usually I’m in a silly mood too, but it happens at any time of year, not just Christmas or even winter…and yes, I’m used to being laughed at for it. Anyway, I’ve racked my brain on that one and can’t come up with any reason, logical or otherwise. So I’m open to suggestions!

For most of us, there are the familiar songs that suddenly appear out of nowhere in your mind, bringing along random (or sometimes expected) memories: for me if Bowie’s Rebel Rebel starts mentally playing, I’m right back in an arena during his Reality Tour (it was the show opener...and I saw 17 of them!) Sometimes it’s not an actual memory; rather it’s as if the song transports you to a certain place or time, whether you've been there or not. Lately I’ve had snippets from the Outlander TV soundtrack in my head quite frequently…and when that happens, I can almost instantly be transported to a beautiful Scottish landscape in another century, rolling hills and all. This is especially nice if it happens on a crowded subway commute. And for some lovely reason, it's never raining...I guess that's proof it's definitely my imagination! 

Often I can put my finger on what triggered the specific song and memory or thought – might be as simple as an advert on TV, or a comment made by a co-worker. Sometimes I can’t. But it’s always fascinating to try and figure it out – and to wonder how many more moments are stored away, to be rediscovered when the right piece of music decides to make an appearance.

I mentioned having more than one song in my head at a time…this is when it starts to get annoying. Usually the combinations sort of make sense; current or favourite songs, with similar lines or riffs so they ‘go’ together. But sometimes it’s just plain weird. Imagine the “Star Wars” theme (‘sung’ by Bill Murray – yes, from old SNL skits) meshing with both Frank Sinatra’s version of “My Way”, and the theme from “Love Boat”. This mashup from hell has been in my head on more than one occasion – with no obvious trigger. These are the times I start to worry about myself.

In the same “Telegraph” article I mentioned above, the quoted psychologist says: “Annoying as earworms are, it is possible they might have a greater function than to drive us mad. It’s interesting to us to think about whether earworms might have a role to play. Are they just a by-product of the brain’s resting state or is something more interesting going on”

Well, I really hope there is something more to it. This blog was triggered by having “Spaceship Superstar” (a 1977 song by Canadian band Prism) in my head since Monday. It is now Wednesday, and I AM going slightly mad. I know where it came from; I downloaded a favourite film on Monday which uses this song over the closing credits - but geez, after three days you’d think my brain would come up with something else. I’ve tried listening to the whole thing multiple times to get rid of it. Nope. Tried listening to loud Bowie, to jazz, to 80’s dance tracks, the Outlander soundtrack – but as soon as I turn that music off, Prism is back. I can be super-busy at work; enjoying a TV show in the evening; talking to a friend in person or on the phone; reading a book on the subway…but ”Spaceship Superstar” is still with me. I’d hate to think it had no purpose.

Unless of course, that purpose is to drive one mad.

It’s cold outside. Like really, really cold. Arctic, wearing-so-many-clothes-you-don't-care-what-you-look-like cold. Coming to work this morning it was -25C, with a windchill of -32C (that’s -26F for my American friends). But that’s not the worst: by Sunday the windchills are supposed to be around -40C (which is actually also -40F…because temperature conversion is weird)

We are under various alerts and warnings, and have been advised that these windchills can cause frostbite to begin on exposed skin in as little as 10 minutes. The weatherman on TV said last night that Environment Canada is officially giving meteorologists the okay to call this spell a ‘Polar Vortex’. How nice of them. You remember the Polar Vortex, that thing we had last year that froze half of Canada and the Eastern US; and pushed the arrival of spring back a good month or so? Well it's back...or never really went away. Great. And to top things off, the current forecast is for temps to stay below freezing for the entire month of February – which hasn’t happened in Toronto since 1978 (actually, we haven’t been above 0C/32F since Jan 24th). That’s NOT normal for this city, even in the dead of winter.

Everything is upside down. Out west in southern Alberta – which should usually be closer to the temps we’re currently getting; they’re expecting highs in the teens Celsius today. That’s ABOVE zero. That’s in the 50’s Fahrenheit. Sigh…something is very wrong with this picture. So while the Calgarians sunbathe and play beach volleyball (well they would if they had a beach), those of us in the East are anticipating the arrival of another Ice Age (no, that’s not a scientific observation, just mine).

With that in mind, I’ve put together a selection of the inevitable snow and ice themed news and entertainment we can expect; as Toronto disappears under a glacier for the next several thousand years:

'Icepocalypse –a Love Story'

'Today on Breakfast Television: How to Permafrost-proof your house'

'Glacial Epoch 5 – Mammoths Reborn!'

'Ice-Quakes – Can We Predict Them?'

'Abominable Snowman or Yeti…what do they really want to be called?'

'Godzilla vs. Mega-Penguin'

'Is Jack Frost the new Superhero?'

Hollywood’s hot new pet: Genetically-engineered mini Polar Bears

'The Little Avalanche That Grew'

'Canada Goose coats displace gold as the new monetary standard'

Should any of those actually see the light of day, please contact me and I’ll advise where to send my royalty cheques.

Anyway…as I said, it’s cold. The type of cold that you simply can’t explain to anyone who hasn’t experienced it firsthand. And although I’m certainly not a fan of it, I do get that, well, it’s winter. In Canada. So there’s not a whole hell of a lot I can do about it.

Besides, better to bundle up against extreme windchills than deal with snow, I say. Snow is all very pretty to look at – preferably through a window while you’re nursing a dram beside a roaring fire – and yes, it's helpful for skiers, but in the city it’s rather nasty to function in. They toss road salt with ridiculous abandon to clear sidewalks and roadways, leaving a horrible, dirty, wet, soupy, chemical mess that ruins footwear and the bottoms of your jeans. When it’s too cold for the salt to work (although they keep throwing it down), you instead skate precariously over now super-slippery, solidly-frozen, greyish snow-soup. This results in really fun activities like falling over and breaking your elbow…yes, I speak from experience. Recent experience. (“Could’ve been worse…could’ve been worse…” - that’s become my mantra!)

But now it’s lunchtime, the sun is actually shining (something else we’ve been lacking this winter), the sidewalks are relatively clear before the next snowfall expected tonight and the complete deepfreeze over the weekend. I’m bundling up, and going out for a walk while I can…after all, I've got this #MyPeakChallenge to keep up with, and fitness & fresh air is always good - what could go wrong?!

Of course, it IS Friday the 13th….

…because that’s what you’ll need to get through this. It’s gonna be long. Verra, verra long (I’m not kidding…it’s ended up being more like a thesis, and there aren’t any pretty pictures taking up space either). Get popcorn – or a double shot, if it suits. (Actually, you might as well grab the whole bottle.)

And - for any non-book-readers or those who haven’t yet watched…herein there be spoilers!

I didn’t intend to wait months before blogging my thoughts about the first half of Outlander Season 1, but here we are. In fact much of it has been written for weeks on my phone - mostly as disjointed sentences or ideas, added to and expanded upon as the thoughts crossed my mind…on the subway, during work meetings, while doing dishes…

As I put this together, I realised most of the focus is on particular aspects of episodes 7 and 8, and the characters/lead actors. So except for a couple of other comments at the start, I’m going with that. Trust me; this would be longer than an Outlander novel if I left in everything that was in my notes!

So:

It amazed me how difficult it was to actually see vs. read about the flogging (The Garrison Commander)…which then struck me as a parallel to what Jamie had explained about not wanting people to see his back; it’s okay for them to know, but seeing would make them think about him differently. I re-read the scenes in the book (told there by Dougal instead of BJR), and this time had a much more intense feeling about it than I’d had for the past twenty years - I suppose because I was now picturing it in Technicolour horror, with a real face attached. By no means does this belittle what author Diana Gabaldon wrote, rather it highlights the incredible work of the prosthetics team and entire crew, and especially the actors who brought it to life.

I may have missed something obvious - but how do the non-book-readers know that Jamie is a Laird? Were they confused when (Both Sides Now) he called Claire “Lady Lallybroch”? In the book, it was part of the explanation Jamie gave her about his family on the wedding night - so I initially assumed that in the series it had still been said, just not shown. But then it occurred to me that non-book-readers weren’t to have known. Perhaps something that explained it was edited from the final cut of another episode?

The ‘not knowing his name’ thing (The Wedding). Yes - a beloved part of the book, and definitely belonged in the episode. However, at the end of the previous episode, Claire is staring morosely at the marriage contract - which very prominently reads “James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser”. In the book she never really has a chance to ‘be alone’ with the contract; the front page supposedly just said “Marriage Contract” and she simply signed where she was told, so it’s easy to assume she didn’t even see his name…but in the show it’s right there. Jumping off the screen. I’m probably overthinking it; perhaps she was too distraught to notice. Or more likely - too hung-over at the ceremony to remember. If this has already been addressed in a tweet or interview I missed, or podcast I’ve not yet gotten to…please let me know!

I learned recently from a Diana Gabaldon tweet that the original translation into German (and also Spanish; maybe others as well?) had cut approximately a quarter (!!!) of the book. I found that very interesting, it made me wonder if not only scenes had been cut, but perhaps meanings, backstories etc. had been changed (knowingly or unknowingly) due to editing and translation. It’s already a given that even those who read in the original English often have different interpretations of the same thing…now it makes sense that some of those who read Outlander in a different language may find the onscreen version differing even further from their imagined view.

A small segment of viewers have complained about differences from the book. I have absolutely no issue with changing, deleting or adding things, as long as it makes sense for the story and characters. Obviously they can’t put everything in the show, and some things work better if they are changed to accommodate a visual medium. Other differences, such as the new storyline with the early introduction of Father Bain (The Way Out) are cleverly paving the way for events in the second half of the season. The explanations given for the changes by the production team make perfect sense - and as much as I love seeing favourite scenes come to life, it’s also exciting to have something new or unforeseen thrown into the mix, or given to us at an unexpected time.

This brings me to - as if enough hasn’t already been written about it - The Wedding. Done a bit differently from the book, but depicted so cleverly through humourous flashbacks and storytelling. Whether it was one or all of the writing/production team who came up with this structure, it was genius; allowing us to experience everything along with the characters, without having all the ‘sex scenes’ thrown together at once. After all - as perfectly as the pages and pages of Jamie & Claire wedding night dialogue flowed in the book, it would’ve crashed and burned for all but diehard fans if done that way on screen. Even with Sam and Cait saying the words!

But although the format was changed, the basic content was intact. All those wonderful scenes and words that some of us have waited decades to have brought to life.

It. Was. Beautiful.

(I encourage everyone to sigh deeply and smile knowingly along with me.)

Everywhere from mainstream press to fan blogs, much has been said about the ground-breaking depiction of sexuality on television and how this, for one of the first times on TV, catered very specifically to what a (straight) female would like to see. I would actually take that a step further: the scenes were written, staged, performed and edited in a manner to please all of the audience - female, male, straight, gay - everyone was well served. However, as one of those aforementioned females, I won’t deny that I felt like ‘we’ were getting more. It seemed as though Outlander was shouting from the rooftops (on our behalf) that yes, a man’s body is equally as appealing as a woman’s - and this show was willing to give it equal time. Perhaps even more time, at least it certainly felt that way. In actual fact we probably saw just as much of Claire as we did Jamie - but the difference is that we’re so used to seeing naked women running around the screen, that we’re probably a bit immune to it.

What I’m certainly not immune to is Jamie’s “…fine ass”, as so eloquently described by Diana Gabaldon. This comment - initially made at a fan/press event in New York last July - took on a life of its own, and ramped up anticipation of the episode to sometimes crazy levels. It didn’t help that both Diana and Jamie’s portrayer Sam Heughan devilishly continued to fuel the fire in interviews and on Twitter during the intervening months. Remember at that point we had NO idea how Outlander was actually going to handle the episode. We’d more-or-less had a confirmation of male ‘nudity’ - but what exactly? Yes, it was Starz, and yes, showrunner Ron Moore kept saying “if it’s in the book…”, but most of us figured anything on the Jamie side would be a fleeting glimpse, about the same afforded to men on any other cable show. (It seemed to be expected that Claire would be bare as the day she was born, as there was next to no chatter about her state of (un)dress…again exemplifying what we’ve come to accept as the norm.)

And those of us in other countries also weren’t sure how much we would or wouldn’t see, regardless of what Starz aired. I have to give full props to Showcase in Canada for airing the episode content in its entirety and unedited for the nighttime viewings - content that I guarantee must have knocked loudly on the ceiling of their censorship limits.

So, yes indeed: it turned out to be much more than a fleeting glimpse…for Claire and for us!

And as expected, that threw the fandom into a tizzy. Of course there were endless gifs, screenshots, amusing memes and ribald comments making the rounds of social media. Then a few people started to take issue by way of tweets or blogs: apparently we were wrong to objectify the male form - because, they said, it wouldn’t be acceptable the other way around. Well okay, yes…in an entirely different situation that would be true. But here it’s not that black and white. Jamie Fraser is a fictional character - created, as are all fictional characters - purely for our interest and entertainment, whether on the page or the screen. There is nothing wrong with this, or at least there shouldn’t be - as long as it’s within the law and not done with malice. (I’m not going into religious, cultural, or other moral, personal objections.)

After all, Claire pretty much objectified Jamie when she ‘looked’ at him (as did he with her)…why should it be any different for the viewer to have the same reaction? And Diana was right; he does have a verra nice arse! Definitely worth more than a brief glance, along with the rest of him. No doubt those who take pleasure in the female body were enjoying Claire in just the same, harmless way. The majority of the fandom was simply using humour to appreciate what Jamie had to offer - and what Sam Heughan has worked hard to maintain. This reaction was exactly what the production team and actors were already fully aware was going to happen - and indeed had been encouraging through their teases in interviews and on social media.

And they continue to do so:  recently - around Hallowe’en - the real life owner of the aforementioned arse (in an ongoing twitter conversation with Diana Gabaldon about his and Jamie’s ‘buns’) told the Twitterverse that it “….tastes like pumpkin”. The buns? Or all of him, or…well, I’ll leave it there. Ahem.

Make no mistake. This is a man who - when he makes these sorts of comments, a clever mix of innocence and innuendo - usually knows exactly what he’s saying, how it is likely to be interpreted and what kind of reaction he’ll get. He’s found himself in a unique situation, figured out for himself how to deal with it (which can’t be easy!), and has chosen to remain down-to-earth and have fun with it - which therefore allows us viewers to do the same. Sam Heughan is a publicist’s dream with his social media-savvy, and acceptance of/attention to, the fandom - both when sanctioned by the network and on his own. In fact pretty much everyone connected with the production is the same way. Starz got very lucky!

As for the actual ‘sex’ - as said it’s been generally agreed by media and the viewing public that what was shown on screen was very rare for television…and believe me, another thing I’m certainly not immune to is the raw attraction of those scenes. But the build-up was just as satisfying. The wedding itself; that moment Jamie sees Claire in her dress, the vows, the kiss. And later, the undressing, the gentle touches, the eye contact, the breathing; all equally if not more ‘sexy’ than the acts themselves. (Yes, even the ‘heavy breathing’ was perfect. It’s something so incredibly arousing when done right, but which is usually either ridiculously overdone - or forgotten/removed entirely in a final edit.)

It was ‘real’, too. Not la-di-da ‘everything is always perfect and covered in rose-petals’ as typically seen on TV for a wedding night. The episode stayed true to DG’s vision and gave us something honest and beautiful, especially in the progression of their love-making through the night. And yes, I cried.

It’s ironic (and a little depressing) that it took a show set in the eighteenth century to be so open-minded about sexuality, in this so-called enlightened & equal twenty-first century. For instance, making Jamie - the MAN - the inexperienced one, was an aspect of the book that’s been cherished for years. Yet to actually see it played out that way on TV without virginity being the sole focus (as many other shows would have done) was refreshing.

**********

Although this episode was still technically from Claire’s POV, it came the closest to giving us Jamie’s POV as well. He had considerable backstory and several scenes on his own, allowing the audience additional insight into his feelings about the marriage and what kind of man he was. Seeing Jamie as a “born storyteller” with Claire, and cracking jokes downstairs with his clansmen, was welcome growth for the character and the actor. Just because Jamie didn’t have a voiceover like Claire; didn’t mean the audience couldn’t see & understand everything going on in his mind - confusion, need, disappointment, elation…and the beginnings of real love.

Much of this was accomplished through non-verbal means - expressions, nuances and habits of Jamie the book-character, which have come out in the show. Sam Heughan said that he got many of them from reading the book, then collaborating with the director about what would work. But it’s one thing to teach yourself mannerisms - and another to completely embody them. Sam’s done it so well that we usually know Jamie’s state of mind without him saying a word, indeed so well that many have joked that he must be the actual reincarnation of a real-life JAMMF, haha.

But what was true was that many book fans - including myself - had a hard time remembering any other mental picture of Jamie Fraser from the moment they saw the onscreen version: that young man with a dislocated shoulder in a dark little cottage.

Which then made me wonder (because I think too much about everything) - did Sam become ‘our’ Jamie because he magically transformed himself? Or have we - the fandom - helped things along by taking some of Sam Heughan’s own attributes and ascribing them to what we know about the Jamie of the books? It’s obvious (from watching pre-Outlander performances and interviews) that some of the expressions described on the page by DG as ‘typical’ Jamie really do also belong to Sam (realistically, they belong to many people…but luckily for us - and no doubt for him in getting the role - he shares them too). So after throwing in the well-matched physical features - tall, strong, blue eyes and the (now) red hair, and crowning it off with that Scots accent…well, it wasn’t a huge stretch to merge the character on our screens with the one in our imaginations.

But to say it was all down to luck and a well-conditioned fandom isn’t fair - not to the fans, and definitely not to Sam Heughan. Seriously, it comes down to a damn fine acting job - probably even better than we already give him credit for. He was able to grasp an innate understanding of the character, adapt his own similarities while learning the rest, and deliver his lines just as we expected to hear them. He’s obviously worked very hard to bring Jamie Fraser to life - to the point that he’s really not ‘playing’ Jamie at all. When the cameras are rolling, he just is Jamie. ‘His Jamie’.

Of course none of this could have happened without stellar acting by all parties, and Caitriona Balfe has been just as successful. Unlike Jamie, Caitriona’s Claire has several physical differences from her book character. She’s taller, slimmer; her eyes are a different colour. But that hasn’t stopped her from becoming Claire. Now when I read the books it’s Cait who jumps off the page at me, regardless of what the character description might say…and that’s all down to her skill in owning Claire, completely.

It’s been said that Caitriona Balfe had the most difficult time during filming; as she’s been in almost all the scenes (at least for the eight episodes we’ve seen so far). Obviously that meant longer hours, definitely more lines to learn, and more behind the scenes requirements - from costumes to location travel to ADR. She also had to come back afterwards and match the tone of the narration to Claire’s mood in the scene. That may sound trivial, but I believe it’s extremely important: whereas a lot of Jamie’s character is revealed by his aforementioned expressions and movements, much of what we understand about Claire’s personality has come from her tone - in the voiceovers as well as in the scenes. The slightest change in her pitch or inflection allows the viewer to understand if Claire is wistful, amused, introspective, or tongue-in-cheek (one of my favourite aspects of Claire from the books, that Caitriona has got down perfectly). Just as Sam has done with Jamie, Cait portrays Claire in a manner that book-readers expect, and non-readers can easily understand and get to know.

The much-talked about chemistry between these two fairly jumps off the screen - and is a huge reason why the whole adaptation works so well. We believe it because they believe it, nothing seems forced. This is true of the entire cast - and I’ll probably have to write another blog about that at some point. They all deserve the highest praise.

**********

As previously mentioned, every single scene in the first eight episodes was told - just as in the book - from Claire’s POV. (Except, of course, the 1940’s Frank-left-behind scenes, which were not in the book.) Even scenes which seem on the surface to be independent of Claire - actually aren’t:

The punishment that Jamie took at Castle Leoch for Laoghaire, the oath-taking before Colum, the argument between Jamie and Dougal in Rent - Claire was always there, somewhere, watching. And of course, the events of Jamie being flogged at the prison were told to her by Black Jack Randall.

In The Wedding, all the ‘backstory’ scenes: Dougal with the priest, Jamie with Murtagh, Rupert and Angus with the ring, Ned with the dress - Jamie told these to Claire on their wedding night. Even when Jamie went downstairs to get food, what seemed at first like an ‘independent Jamie scene’ turned out to be another story: he told her about it afterwards as they ate.

I actually find all of those ‘story-scenes’ very interesting - because we viewers aren’t necessarily seeing what really happened, although it’s accepted as such. In truth, what we see is Claire’s interpretation of what she was told, often second or third-person by the time the viewer finds out. Yes, I’m overthinking again…but really, it’s fascinating!

Told as it is in first person narrative, in the book the reader knows only what Claire does. But with the series using the visual medium, they could have easily chosen to NOT hold with that, just as many other first person TV adaptations have done - because of the sheer difficulty of weaving scenes without the main protagonist into the overall story. And yet this series has done it masterfully, to the point you sometimes don’t realise how - until you go back and look again. I believe I read that in the second half of the season, some (one? partially? all?) of the episodes will be told instead from Jamie’s point of view. A departure from the book to be sure, but I think a very welcome one. I think the characters are now well-enough established within the TV show for this step to be taken, and it’s going to be very interesting to have another perspective.

**********

Right.  We’re getting near the end of this now, so prop yourselves up and pour another dram. Just one more thing to discuss:  Both Sides Now. I have a problem with it.

Don’t get me wrong - overall I ADORED the episode. Such brilliant acting. The Hugh character was lovely. The sequence where Jamie and Claire - who only want a little time alone to love each other, but end up killing their attackers - started out so funny and sweet…then quickly became shocking and sad. And the following scene, where a distraught Jamie tries to apologise to his trembling wife, was a shining moment for both actors.

However as much as I loved this episode, I have a hard time not being a little bit annoyed by it. I don’t even know if I can explain my feelings properly, but I’m going to try:

Although I completely trust the writers & showrunners, and as much as I’m enjoying it all and like the fact that there are deviations from the book, I can’t help but be a little disappointed that so much of the midseason finale was dedicated to Frank. Now that Jamie and Claire were married, it seemed important to have continued on from the last episode and explored their growing feelings a wee bit more. It didn’t even have to be a complete scene, just another couple of lines here or there…especially as this was the last we were going to see of them together for six months. And most distressingly (as many fans said), it felt completely wrong that Claire didn’t have at least one tiny thought for Jamie as she ran for the stones. Logic has allowed me to explain it as the shock she was still in causing her single-mindedness (I don’t know if that’s what the writers were thinking, it’s the only reason I could come up with), but my heart still missed what should/could have been.

After my first viewing, I honestly thought I must have missed something, and re-watched that section several times until I realised that what I was expecting to hear, simply wasn’t there. Even for the non-book-readers, it must have seemed a wee bit strange (or cold-hearted) that Claire was running toward one husband without even acknowledging the other existed.

Admittedly her ‘escape’ didn’t play out in the book as it did on TV - she didn’t make it to the stones, and it was days later so she was no longer in shock - but even so, in the book she was extremely conflicted, and spent some time rationalising how Jamie would fare without her. This could still have worked well in the episode without changing any of the existing events, just one little narration sequence before or as she started running across the field: “And Jamie - how could I leave him? But I had to go home. I didn’t belong here. And in time, he would forget about me, go on with his life.” (*Yes, basically paraphrased from what DG wrote.)

You may disagree, but I believe that sequence - which as I said was not in the novel - was built up to satisfy the drama of a mid-season finale and lend credence to the increased importance (in the series as compared to the book) of the left-behind Frank. I think it was a scene for the non-book readers to fall in love with, because as a book-reader it left me conflicted: it was a lovely moment in a stunning location, with a heart wrenching score, very cleverly thought out, exquisitely shot, and brilliantly acted by Caitriona Balfe and Tobias Menzies - but it left me struggling to enjoy it as much as I wanted to (yes I know I’m contradicting myself). Partially because of my annoyance that Jamie had been ignored, but mostly because I couldn’t help but see it as a ‘fake’. To me it was: “Okay, let the non-readers go into a six month hiatus feeling there’s hope for Frank. But the rest of us know he’s basically SOL. Even if we do see more of Frank, we know it’s still going to be Jamie all the way, so…”

I stated earlier that I don’t have a problem with differences from the book, and even here I still don’t have a problem in that way, per se. It’s more like I feel just a little cheated because it WAS so well done…and yet I couldn’t let myself enjoy it for what it was. (Admittedly, more recent viewings no longer leave me with quite such a negative reaction - I can now enjoy it, I suppose because I know what to expect - but that still doesn’t change my initial opinion.)

**********

So…if any of you actually made it this far, still reading - that’s it! And thank you! You’re brave. If you want to agree or disagree, I welcome comments on Twitter @juliechaston , or (if I set it up correctly and if you accessed this through the web instead of Tumblr) Disqus comments should be available below.

I think I might…only might…consider doing more frequent Outlander blogs for the second half in the spring, because I obviously can’t keep saving it up like this. And because I forgot to talk about the handsex! ;) 

Apparently many people around the world saw a blood moon this morning.

I saw condos.

As a teenager I would spend hours in the backyard, looking up at the night sky (yes, I did think that was fun). With binoculars & star chart in hand, I would endeavour to identify constellations and planets and satellites and even the space shuttle when in orbit. I would stare endlessly at the moon, thinking about how astronauts had been there, and letting my mind wander further into the sci-fi realm…what if there were aliens hiding there? Perhaps a ship on the other side, invisible to human technology. Oh, my full-throttle imagination could (and still does!) think about those things for ages.

But anyway, there was this moon thing going on last night, or in my case; early this morning. Here in Toronto we had a very small window to view it, just over half an hour from the start until it would be swallowed up by the daylight.

So I was quite disappointed last night upon checking the weather reports, to find out that we were forecast to be cloudy/rainy at the specified time. Meteorologists on the various late-night news broadcasts assured me that was definitely the case, so that, I thought…was that.

When my alarm went off at 6am, I did the usual ‘hit snooze and turn on the TV‘, allowing myself those extra nine minutes to gradually wake up while listening to to the local Breakfast Television team. Instead, I literally jumped out of bed when I heard them crowing about clear skies and ‘moon-cams’.

Never mind that I should be in the shower & getting ready for work…I was on a mission! Living downtown in a huge, bright city means I rarely get to participate in anything celestial…but the moon…hey, I can see the moon!

First stop - my 14th floor balcony. I quickly realised that my north-facing apartment didn’t allow me to see far enough to the west. No problem. With Frankie and Kevin on the TV telling me we had about 10 minutes until it was in full ‘blood’, I threw on some clothes and flip flops, grabbed keys and phone, and headed outside. We used to have a lovely roof deck that would have been perfect, but it’s now a forest of cell phone towers and therefore off limits to us mere residents. So street level it would have to be. No matter, I should still be able to see the moon from the end of my street, between the buildings. Shouldn’t I?

Full of optimism, down the elevator I went. I walked to the corner, and…nothing. Just a new condo building blocking that view. Okay, next corner - and another condo. A further block, another building in the way.

Desperation and reality was setting in. The sky to the east was beginning to brighten with the coming dawn. I was now several blocks from home, and knew I had to go back and get ready for work asap. But, just one more block, surely…nope. Just the proverbial condo, this time with a construction crane adding to the vista. And now I really had to hustle back.

To properly set the scene, you need to know that I’m somewhat immobilised at the moment. I’ve got a couple of broken toes and am sort of hobbling around. And because I’m not walking properly, my already dodgy knee isn’t happy either and stiffens up. So the end result: when I try to move quickly, I sort of lurch along. Add this to the fact that I was wearing mis-matched clothes, had barely run a comb through my hair, and was staring up at the sky almost the entire time…well I must have been quite the sight. No doubt the early-riser business people and dog walkers I passed had good reason for giving me strange looks at every turn.

Unfortunately, realising this just gave me the giggles…which understandably elicited several more looks. I swear one woman moved her dog away from me while we were waiting at the crosswalk.

Anyway, I made it home without incident, showered and even with a subway delay I got to work in record time; now looking like a human being instead of an extra from a low budget zombie film.

I never did see the moon. But I did realise how much I miss it.

I am a David Bowie fan…a huge Bowie fan, and have been for more years than some of my readers have probably been alive. So when it was announced that the touring exhibit “David Bowie is…” would be installed at the AGO (Art Gallery of Ontario) in the autumn of 2013 - as the second stop after the opening in London - to say I was thrilled would be something of an understatement.

Unfortunately, circumstances kept me from attending until the final weekend, but when I finally made it I was enthralled. The experience brought back so many memories of albums I’d listened to, films and videos I’d seen, and concerts I’d attended over the years. The experience was more than worth the wait.

A couple of weeks ago, Toronto-based actor Ted Whittall (a member of the Department of Theatre at Toronto’s York University) posted a link to an essay he’d written for one of the school’s publications: http://www.yorku.ca/intent/issue7/articles/edwardwhittall.php

Entitled “David Bowie is… Hyperreal”, his paper used the exhibit as the backdrop to a fascinating discussion of ‘performance’, as it related to the artist, the surroundings and the audience…both in literal and abstract terms.

While reading it, one paragraph struck a particular chord with me. In discussing the staging of the exhibit and how the physical act of moving through it was similar to moving through Bowie’s career, Whittall writes that it did: “…give us the feeling that we are involved in a live event.”

Yes! You hit the nail squarely on the head there Ted, that was exactly how I’d felt. However, it also struck me that the one part of the exhibit that demonstrated this to me more than any other…hadn’t been mentioned in the essay. It had such a profound effect on me that almost a year later I can still close my eyes and be right back in the moment.

To explain: The final hall of the exhibit was one of the largest; high-ceilinged, with giant video screens making up three of the walls, and a number of seats and blocks that the patrons - the “audience” - could sit or lean against. Some of Bowie’s concert costumes from various eras were displayed around the edges, and more were ensconced in alcoves behind the video screens, lighting up randomly for a split second here and there.

The video screens were doing what you’d expect - playing clips of concert footage - but in a clever twist, would each be playing clips of the same song from different eras through Bowie’s career; for instance, the middle screen might have a modern performance, the left side one from the 70’s, and the right side one from the 90’s. Of course, only one soundtrack played at the time, but it had been put together well enough that what we were listening to still ‘fit’ with whichever of the screens you chose to look at. Adding to the magic; when I entered the room “Heroes’ was playing. Now, if this isn’t one of the most well-known, crowd-rousing songs of Bowie’s career, inclusive of fans and non-fans alike…I defy you to give me another. Did I say it was magic? It was.

We - meaning everyone - whether you knew the person next to you or not - were completely caught up in it all, as we swayed, smiled at each other, clapped & even sang along…not at all unlike being at an actual live performance. The ‘performance’ would loop through several songs (all from different eras and concerts) for about 30 minutes, then start again. Most people seemed to be staying at least through an entire loop.

So what had initially seemed to be a real misfortune and disadvantage (going to the exhibit on a very busy Saturday afternoon, forced to shuffle along and crane my neck to see half the items from behind the crowds), had suddenly become a huge advantage.

Perhaps this is why Mr Whittall didn’t experience it - or at least not in a way that brought it to mind when writing the paper. Perhaps he went at a quieter time, and the crowds were needed to bring the whole effect to life?

Was it intentional? I have no idea; but even if not, it was certainly a glorious byproduct of the experience. It certainly had me in a rather joyful mood as I entered the ubiquitous gift shop…exactly what the exhibit was hoping for, I’m sure!

The marquee signs for the exhibit proclaimed: “David Bowie is… here.” Well for those 30 minutes or so, he certainly was.

Who knows, maybe it was just me, the stars aligning just so to recall my concert experiences, and put me right back in one…but I don’t think so. Enough other people around me seemed to be enjoying it in much the same way. In fact, taking it a step further, I would say that for those minutes we were as much a part of the performance - of the exhibit - as we were the audience.

Writing this has made me remember another time when Bowie’s audience became the performance - but this time, Bowie was there, for real.

Glasgow, 28 November 2003 (almost exactly a decade to the day before I saw the exhibit). Bowie was playing the SECC as part of his “A Reality Tour”. I was there, it was the last of 5 concerts I’d been to on my own little Bowie tour over-the-pond with some friends (Dublin, London & now Glasgow). The crowd was a little bit more ‘enthusiastic’ than some others (gotta love the Scots!) and we were getting jostled a wee bit in our spot down right in front of the stage, but generally everyone was happy and Bowie was most definitely in fine form.

Sometime after the midway point, Bowie was messing around at the other end of the stage when the band started the next song: “Starman”. This 1972 song was a HUGE hit in the UK and you could literally feel the buzz in the crowd as the opening chords began. Bowie, meanwhile, was beginning to make his way back to his microphone, but not quickly enough. No problem. The crowd stepped in. In one voice, we were all singing the opening line, nearly finishing it before Bowie made it back to centre stage. There was a brief hesitation on his part as the band looked at him, wondering if he wanted them to start over (something Bowie was wont to do on occasion). But instead, he shook his head at the band and just stood there, listening to the audience for the next few words and looking really chuffed, until he eventually joined in and sang the rest of the song…with us. It became a literal sing-a-long, and at the end Bowie was clapping for us, instead of the other way around. It was quite a moment.

As I finish this up, I’m now listening to my bootleg of that same Glasgow show…and happy memories are flooding back all over the place…just as they did last autumn at the AGO exhibit.

Thank you David Bowie, thank you AGO, and thank you Ted Whittall for writing the paper that sparked all this!

So opportunity knocked in Scotland this week…and apparently 55% of Scots ran and hid in the cupboard under the stairs instead of opening the door. Okay, that may be a bit unfair; I’m sure some simply slammed home the deadbolt. After all, many of the NO voters were truly passionate about their side too…and passion is always better than apathy. I just honestly didn’t think there would be so many of them.

It was extremely hard to swallow…seeing, reading and sensing the utter disappointment of the YES camp, when only a few hours before they’d been so alive with joy and enthusiasm and hope for a positive outcome. One supporter simply tweeted: “Gutted”…and that said it all.

Maybe I’d been deluding myself, after all, online I’d (unintentionally) surrounded myself with more of a YES than a NO crowd. And being here in Canada, most of the YES-focussed news reports I’d seen were from Glasgow, which was more inclined towards independence, especially with the momentum gained over the homestretch. Even so…

Lame and negative as it was, perhaps the NO campaign was on to something with their “If you’re undecided, Vote No” message. A sort of subliminal “you don’t really need to make a decision” push. Okay, I know I overthink everything, but I truly wonder how many of those NO voters would have actually buckled down and made the better decision for their future had they not been lulled back into apathy. (Or have checked off “hang on, I’m still thinking” if that had been an option. But not ‘NO’.) Anyway, that's just my speculation on ONE possible situation amongst all the many & varied.

I spent much of the last few weeks defending my YES stance to friends and co-workers, usually in reply to “but you’re English, aren’t you?” Yes, I was born in England - and my Grandfather was Scottish. Whether that had anything to do anything I dont have a clue, but I have always thought of myself as British, rather than just English. “All the more reason for you to want it to stay together then”, was the usual response…and I can’t deny that for years I had usually considered myself a NO, when I thought about it at all. But as the referendum got closer I found myself taking a real interest. I started to actually read and research all points of view - and came to my own conclusion that YES made sense.

So there I’d be, trying to explain the referendum to friends and co-workers, watching their eyes slowly glaze over as I spoke enthusiastically about YES, NO, and the hundreds of years of history behind it all. That was usually when I completely lost them…I never will understand why everyone doesn’t love history as much as I do! (Hmmm…maybe another blog idea there.)

There were two other responses I’d get from those I’d discuss it with. Sometimes: “Oh, so it’s just like Quebec then.” (No. No it was not. It was & is nothing like the Quebec situation.) But quite often I got: “You’re just interested because you like Outlander.” Grrrr. How frustrating that apparently one can’t have an informed opinion on anything unless it’s somehow related to popular culture.

But yes, I do like Outlander. Verra, verra much…which brings me to the second part of this becoming-rather-long blog.

As I sit here tonight, Outlander fans all over the US (and pretty much all over the world, through the magic of the ‘in-some-cases-not-quite-legal’ internet) are literally counting down the minutes until: THE WEDDING!!!! Now don’t get me wrong…I am just as excited about this as anyone, fangirling at every preview or promo pic, re-reading the chapters in the books, and looking at the clock waaay too often. The dress. The kilt (or lack thereof), the vows…oh oh oh, those lovely vows. Like many others, I’ve waited somewhere around 20 years to see our Jamie and Claire brought to life. Especially the wedding (and yeah, the wedding night!).

But…I WON’T BE WATCHING! Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not for another 2 weeks, actually.

You see, in my wisdom *read: stubborness; stupidity* I decided weeks ago that I would NOT succumb to online temptation, and would instead watch the series in ‘Canadian time’ - that being the schedule set by Canadian broadcaster Showcase - two weeks and one day behind each US Starz airing (it’s on Sunday nights here, and began two weeks later…tomorrow we get “Rent”). From what I read online, it’s rather likely I’m the only Canadian doing this. Possibly the only person on the planet. Now I haven’t been a complete ‘monk’ (heehee), I’m allowing myself to see all the pics and previews and screen grabs and tweets there are…although I do try to avoid detailed recaps/reviews/podcasts until after I’ve seen an ep. (Update, 2 days later…still haven’t watched the ep, but have been reading the incredibly positive reviews. Haven’t been able to help myself this time, I’m afraid!)

So far this has worked out pretty well: knowing the books, I’m not overly worried about basic storyline spoilers…and honestly, all the advance excitement online has only increased my anticipation and enjoyment of each episode. Plus I know that when the US is done with the first eight eps, I’ll still have two more to look forward to. And finally I also prefer to support Showcase (and indirectly Starz), and watch for the first time an original, non-pirated version, on my big-screen TV, the way it was intended by those that work so hard to bring it to us. (Uh-oh, I’m getting on my soapbox!)

But all that aside, not watching this wedding with everyone else will be pushing my limits. Some friends have offered me links, and it has been VERY tempting. However, as it stands now I intend to stay strong, and let the anticipation grow - until in two weeks time I’ll be salivating just the way everyone else is tonight.

Although, by then I’ll probably have seen Jamie’s arse in so many .gifs I’ll be quite tired of it.

Ha. Not likely!

(Disclaimer: Tumblr and I are not friends. Not yet anyway - and this is my first attempt at creating anything substantial here. So you’ll understand if it’s not fancy or pretty, or has a typo or two.)

(Oh, and herein there be spoilers!)

So yes, a play. Live drama. Not in a big fancy theatre with balconies and private boxes, not even in a smaller playhouse with a tasteful marquee and worn but cushy seats. No, this production took place in a small, old, hot and humid ‘storefront’ theatre in Toronto’s East end. From the outside you might even think it was just another closed-down business. But inside…oh inside, magic was happening.

The magic was the Sunday matinee (and last of only four performances) of ‘Love Letters’, by A.R. Gurney. Directed by Jill Carter, it was all for charity - fundraising for the Daily Bread food bank. Two actors graced the ‘stage’ - Kristin Kreuk and Eric Johnson. The play itself has been around for about 25 years, and has had successful runs everywhere from Broadway to community theatre. I had never seen it performed before, but had read it many years ago…and although I remembered the basic premise, I did not remember details. For the uninitiated, ‘Love Letters’ is about the relationship between two people: Andrew Makepeace Ladd III, ever the responsible student/lawyer/politician; and Melissa Gardner, a complex and effervescent artist. Their story spans about 50 years from their childhood until the inevitable end for one - and is told entirely through their correspondence - letters, cards, invitations and the like - each character giving voice to what they have written.

I’ve heard that some consider ‘Love Letters’ an easy play to perform. After all, there are no props to maneuver, no marks to hit, even the lines don’t necessarily have to be memorised. But in my opinion, that just makes it all the more difficult. Without props or a set to move around in, the actors become the only thing thing the audience has to look at. For almost two hours, these actors can’t even breathe or move in any way unless they stay in character. The audience is focussed only on them; and this play can only work if the actors are in turn focussed enough to deliver. If they don’t, it’s simple - they lose the audience. But we were fortunate to have Kristin and Eric sitting up there, because they never lost the audience. We laughed and cried in all the ‘right’ places…and we believed every moment of Melissa and Andrew’s journey. It was like we were all in a little bubble together, the characters and the audience.

At first, I often had to remind myself to watch whichever actor was NOT speaking. As viewers, we’re used to directing our attention to the character saying the words, indeed in film and television that’s usually who the camera is on. Unless directed to do so by the POV on our screens, we often only take notice of the listener’s reactions if we view the show or scene again. But a play is a one time shot, and in this particular play it is the reaction of the character listening - or ‘reading’ - that is just as powerful, potentially even more so.

For instance: when Andrew is speaking, we’re not really hearing him say the words as he writes them. We are hearing how Melissa imagines him saying those words as she ‘reads’ them; and in turn reacts to them. Kristin and Eric were able to both deliver and react with passion or calm, or even just an expression, which was equally effective. And subtle differences in tone or inflection conveyed the passage of time - from childlike innocence to the increasing world-weariness of later years - without having to resort to overdone or affected voices.

While watching, I wondered if it had been a challenge to adapt to the staging. Actors play off each other with more than words; one fuels the other with body language and expressions, particularly in dialogue-heavy scenes…and ‘Love Letters is basically one continuous dialogue-heavy scene! (Okay, two - there is an intermission.) However, although situated just a few feet apart, our actors had to play it as if they were alone on stage, imagining themselves as far away from each other as Andrew and Melissa were. They can’t even glance at each other - to lose that focus would break the bubble they’ve so successfully created.

I believe that’s why the ending was so poignant. The moment the audience realised that Melissa had died was already powerful, but the following shift in dynamic just made it even more so. Kristin deliberately - and for the first and only time - broke the bubble, having Melissa speak directly to Andrew as he wrote the letter of condolence to her mother. For the first time, we were actually hearing Andrew speak the words as he wrote them. Was Melissa’s ‘spirit’ really there, reacting to his words in real time? Or was her voice all in Andrew’s mind, as he imagined what she’d be saying to him?

I was so impressed with Kristin Kreuk and Eric Johnson. I admit I wasn’t previously very familiar with Eric’s work - but he now has another fan for life. (And no, I didn’t even watch ‘Smallville’! ) I’m also not very familiar with Kristin’s work outside of ‘Beauty and the Beast’ (although I adore ‘Space Milkshake’ - it’s a must-watch, for anyone who appreciates ridiculously funny sci-fi spoofs). But it was truly special to see Kristin translate the humour and emotion we love in BATB to a live, up-close performance.

And I do mean up-close. Very very up-close, no raised stage or separation from the audience here. I didn’t count, but the venue held maybe 90-100 seats. The stage was simply the area in front of the first row, literally just a few feet ahead. I wondered if this proximity to the audience was intimidating to the performers…but if it was, neither of them showed it. If anything, the intimacy of the setting was perfect for this play; the audience was drawn immediately into the bubble, and the skill of the actors kept them there.

At the conclusion of the play, we were honoured to meet and speak with Kristin, Eric and Jill, even take pictures with them. The atmosphere was comfortable, and from my vantage point it appeared everyone had thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

So thank you Kristin, thank you Eric, and thank you Jill, for bringing it all together and sharing your work of art with us. ‘Love Letters’ will stay with me for a long, long time.