Showing posts with label OUAT. Show all posts
Showing posts with label OUAT. Show all posts

Friday, March 14, 2014

Regina Mills—She Doesn’t Know How to Love Very Well


**Due to recent misinterpretations of some one post from this blog, a disclaimer is now apparently necessary.  If this is your first visit to The Scratched Camera, please read the introductory post and discover, for yourself, that every typed word that follows is unabashedly my opinion and mine alone.  In said introductory post, which, shockingly, I did not simply type up for my own good health, I state that we all read events and characters with our own baggage in mind; no one observes with a perfectly clear lens—hence the name The Scratched Camera.  Therefore, it is completely your will to disagree with any material that follows, just as it is my will to agree and advocate for what is mine.**  ~End, irritating obligatory disclaimer~

Regina Mills—She Doesn’t Know How to Love Very Well

            Regina lives on a sliding scale.  At any time, she has the potential to slide from the kindness evident in the Original version of the character, to the ambitious and cruel nature of the Evil Queen and, finally, to the middle ground composite that is the Mayor. 

            The audience first witnesses Original Regina’s character in The Stable Boy.  In stark contrast to the Evil Queen the audience has seen throughout the bulk of season one, the Regina present in The Stable Boy appears to be very kind-hearted.  She saves Snow White, has a love she wishes to spend the rest of her life with, and attempts to dutifully obey her demanding mother—albeit with a measureable count of rebellion that hints at the future version of the character to come. 

            However, once her mother kills Daniel and forces her to marry King Leopold, the wholly original and organic version of Regina is gone and will never be seen again.  She will certainly slip on her sliding scale towards her original inclinations from time to time, but she will never again be completely the generous version of her the audience sees here. 

            As time progresses and she continues to be stuck in a loveless marriage to the king, her heart only becomes darker.  Miserable and hurt by the king’s repeated insistence that she constantly falls short of the previous queen, she is still inclined towards the Original Regina end of the scale.  It isn’t until she proactively reels in the Genie and manipulates him into killing the king that she shifts to the Mayor position. 

            Say what you want about the Mayor of Storybrooke, but she knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to seek it out.  The mayor setting on Regina’s sliding scale isn’t necessarily murderous, but she can be very cruel.  She has a very tough exterior—weathered by the various trials and tribulations she suffered through in her time as both the Original Regina and her reign as the Evil Queen.  There’s also a territorial sense about her, put in place by losing her kingdom and her castle to Snow White and Prince Charming.  As a result, she detests others attempting to touch things that she views as belonging to her.  When Emma attempts to protect Henry from her, it only causes Mayor Regina to lash out and struggle to sabotage Swan’s every move.  When Sheriff Graham develops a closeness to Swan, to the point where his loyalties have evidentially shifted, she kills him with very little thought—although, I would argue this is infused with a bit of Regina’s old friend and persona the Evil Queen rearing its ugly head once again, but more on that to follow. 

            Throughout the bulk of the season one Storybrooke plot line, we see Regina in varying shades of her mayor persona.  She typically shoots to injure, not to kill.  Snow’s reputation is almost destroyed as Regina frames her as the murderer of Kathryn.  However, she doesn’t strike outright against Snow or Kathryn, who is returned, slightly traumatized, but basically unharmed—a mercy the Evil Queen certainly wouldn’t have bestowed.  Belle has spent the previous twenty-eight years held captive just for the sake of inciting some form of misery in Rumplestiltskin.  Again, Evil Queen Regina would’ve simply murdered her and saved the space in Storybrooke’s mental hospital. 

            This isn’t to say we don’t catch glimpses of Regina’s Evil Queen persona in our time in Storybrooke.  Throughout her hold of her title as queen, she was arguably at her most successful peak—the Evil Queen would probably call it happy, but I believe she is far from even being able to label herself as content in this stage.  Her murder of King Leopold started her on the path towards becoming the Evil Queen, but it was the murder of her own father to appease the requirements of the curse that sealed her fate in this position.  Just as the death of Daniel cemented a permanent disconnect between the the current Regina and the Original Regina, her willingness to kill her own father for the sake of her own supposed happiness erected a dam between her current and Evil Queen personalities; while she may not always be wholly the Evil Queen, the waters of her past travesties would always overflow over her current sense of self. 

            Having achieved her goal of ruining all happy endings, Regina felt very accomplished as she set up her life in Storybrooke, Evil Queen persona still at hand, as she began her cruel reign over the citizens of the town.  However, it didn’t take long for Regina to grow bored of everyone’s complacent surrender to her orders.  With this tedium, Regina takes her first small step away from being strictly the Evil Queen.  While she’ll return to her reigning tendencies from time to time, she will never be wholly evil again.

            We have Owen Flynn to thank for this.  In Welcome to Storybrooke, we see Regina reach out to the boy, who fills a certain hole in her heart that Rumple warned her about when she took action against her father.  While Regina returns briefly to her Evil Queen ways to murder the boy’s father, she does actually miss him once he’s gone, proving to the audience that she can never be truly evil again; her loneliness—ironically incited by her own murder of her father—won’t allow for it. 

            To permanently fill this void, she seeks out Rumple to provide a child for her—but as he makes oh-so clear, not in that way.  Once Henry enters her life, he reaffirms the benefits to her persona started by Owen, further developing the Mayor role discussed previously.  While Mayor Regina can be cruel and unjust as she actively works to destroy Snow White and Prince Charming, she can also display the vulnerability and affection of Original Regina.  Her actions against Emma are excessive and unfair, often resulting in the unjustified arrest of Swan—which, ironically, only served to bring her and Graham closer together.  Perhaps the quen should’ve thought that through a bit better—but they are done in the sake of what she views as the best possible choice for her son; an instinctual certainty from Regina’s point of view that is particularly interesting, given she can no longer remember Henry’s origins. 

            No matter what horrible revenge Regina attempts to achieve as she works towards that comfortable previously successful persona of the Evil Queen, one disapproving word or glance from Henry is all that is required to slide her straight back towards her middle ground as the mayor.  In A Land Without Magic, Regina is scattered across her scale, as she struggles between selfishly wanting Henry all to herself and dealing with the inevitability that Emma Swan isn’t going anywhere.  She attempts to poison Emma to regain the authority of her Evil Queen reign over Henry’s love.  However, the second it backfires and it is revealed to her that Henry is the one paying the price for her choice to use magic, she slides almost back to Original Regina as the pitch of her voice raises as she delivers her emotional confession about the apple turnover.  Once they leave the storage closet, however—which sounds oddly like a poorly written fan fiction.  It isn’t, I swear—Regina has slid back towards her position as the mayor, her demeanor stricter, stronger as she forces herself to work with the one woman in the entire town she may actually dislike more than Snow White.  But, for the sake of her son, Regina has no other choice and, therefore, makes compromises on her brewing Evil Queen ego. 

            Regina spends the first part of season two in the mayor phase, sliding along various posts on her spectrum in the process.  Her subjects, now fully aware of who she is and none-too-happy about their predicament, constantly suspect the mayor is responsible for every mishap about town.  This begins Mayor Regina’s perpetual state of penance paying for the actions of both Original Regina and Evil Queen Regina.  She pays for her failure to save Daniel once again as Frankenstein—still not sure what the hell he’s doing in anything related to fairy tales, but whatever—reanimates his corpse and sends zombie Daniel running about town.  We see another brief glimpse of a Regina that closely resembles her original personality, only to have it ripped from her yet again as she is forced to kill Daniel and watch him die for a second time.  Every attempt Regina makes to grow closer to Henry is sabotaged by a mistrustful Snow White and Prince Charming, who seem eager to trip over themselves to assume Regina has anything but good intentions. 

            Regina will continue to struggle against the constant leak in her Evil Queen dam, particularly towards the end of season two where Cora returns and quickly sets to manipulating the queen into undoing all the progress she had made at developing her mayor persona in the first half of the season.  Cora’s argument is that magic and power will inevitably be the only way to win back Henry’s love—a fact which is obviously very untrue, but serves as the easy path out.  Regina, suffocated by the disapproval of the citizens of Storybrooke, fails to see the fallacy in the plan, and, therefore, falls pray to Cora’s control. 

            However, Regina comes back around by the end of the season, as she works with Emma to save Storybrooke in And Straight on ‘Til Morning.  In the season finale, she actually ponders sacrificing herself to save the town, a concept that has shades of improvement even upon the Original Regina from The Stable Boy.  Her collaboration with Emma, however, preserves the character safely in her mayor persona, as she finally earns some credit from the now utterly annoying Snow White and Prince Charming. 

            This sacrifice only carries her so far, of course, as Mary Margaret and David instantly start doubting her once more as they set foot on the Jolly Roger to save Henry in the third season.  Regina, who previously caved to this pressure at the sightings of her mother’s easier path, stands her ground this time around, insisting that she needs to be an active part of the rescue mission for her son. 

            It is this repeated struggle that makes Mayor Regina one of my favorite characters on the show.  Original Regina was very sweet and altruistic, allowing her own ambitions and desires to be stripped away by her mother.  Evil Queen Regina murders people, even those she most cares for, to get what she wants.  But Mayor Regina is edgy, sarcastic and dry—particularly as she snarkily tears apart all plans devised by Mary Maragret or David, based on her perception of their stupidity—while still maintaining an ability to love and cherish her son in the way she was never capable of as queen and in a representation of the missed opportunity that was her unfulfilled love for Daniel. 

From Bella to Katniss:  Is Regina a good Role Model?  Regina is one of the strongest characters on Once Upon a Time—both physically and emotionally.  She’s suffered a plethora of loss, which has built a hard exterior similar to Emma’s—hence all of the SwanQueen shipping business.  While she may not always use her magic for the best of purposes, she’s very successful when she does and has shown an ability to very easily defend herself and those she cares for.  She would also go to any length to protect Henry, much like Emma.  However, frequently Regina’s definition of defending her loved ones or protection for Henry leads her back towards her Evil Queen persona—a personality that consistently fails to provide a good example, particularly with all the murdering and such.  On the other hand, where the Evil Queen lacks in morality, she provides in pure-driven ambition; after her resistance against her own desires as Original Regina, she never makes that mistake again, as she actively strides towards her goals in both her position as Evil Queen and the Mayor.  Raw ambition is a trait rarely assigned to televised females—a remnant of the Cinderella days of old, where women were allowed to have goals, but not to seek them out on their own—and it is, therefore, refreshing to see a female character going after what she wants and obtaining a high level of power as a result. 
Role Model Rating:  4/10

From Lorelai to Wonder Woman:  Is Regina relatable?  The strong sense of ambition about Regina, while serving to make her a rather positive role model—if not a tainted one, what again with all the murder—it could potentially hinder her ability to relate to the audience.  As I mentioned above, women in media—and real life, for that matter—are rarely shown to be brazenly ambitious.  Even Emma, arguably one of the strongest characters I’ve seen on television in this decade, isn’t as driven as Regina.  Swan is, of course, motivated to protect her son to her very last breath; she is not, however, as determined as Regina to hold a high rank of power and be recognized as an authority figure.  I’ve noticed a trend that women in media who hold this type of authority or power must also be seen as cruel, hard-hearted or evil—for instance, Maleficent, Ursala, Margaret Tate from The Proposal, President Coin from Mockingjay and Umbridge from Harry Potter, among many others—although to be honest, that last one really is just evil.  Regina, while occasionally lingering in this trend as her Evil Queen tendencies beckon at her, typically defies this standard after the start of season two.  However, with her loss in authoritarian tendencies, there is also normally a notable drop in her power, as Snow While and Prince Charming once again take control of her territory.  This conflict creates a struggle that reveals a vulnerability to Regina that, in turn, creates a far more human and relatable character than the likes of the perfection that is Mary Margaret and David.  While viewers may not have been forcibly removed from a throne they thought was rightfully theirs by a younger, more agile opponent who seems incapable of failure, we have all stood in the shadow of someone who seems perpetually and inherently better than us.  Likewise, the average audience member may not have been forced into an arranged marriage at the hands of a manipulating mother, but we can relate to pressure from parents on what course we should take in life.  In short, Mayor Regina manages to combine an ambition for a general sense of improvement in her life, while realistically struggling with how to achieve such ends—an effort that results in a revealed vulnerability that seems far more relatable than Snow White’s pristinely perfect life. 
Relatability Rating:  7/10

Sunday, March 9, 2014

Emma Swan—Change Things For Yourself, Because There are No Fairy Godmothers


**Due to recent misinterpretations of some one post from this blog, a disclaimer is now apparently necessary.  If this is your first visit to The Scratched Camera, please read the introductory post and discover, for yourself, that every typed word that follows is unabashedly my opinion and mine alone.  In said introductory post, which, shockingly, I did not simply type up for my own good health, I state that we all read events and characters with our own baggage in mind; no one observes with a perfectly clear lens—hence the name The Scratched Camera.  Therefore, it is completely your will to disagree with any material that follows, just as it is my will to agree and advocate for what is mine.**  ~End, irritating obligatory disclaimer~

Emma Swan—Change Things For Yourself, Because There are No Fairy Godmothers

            Emma Swan may be hesitant to believe, but once you have gained her trust, she would go to any number of ends to protect you.  She believes in very little, other than her own instincts, which, to her credit, very rarely do fail her; this results in a steadfast stubbornness and straightforwardness that permeates through her every action.  It allows her to be loyal to those she cares for, while still maintaining her independent edge. 

            The Pilot of Once Upon a Time designed the introduction of Emma Swan to prepare us to shatter any preconceptions we may have towards her character.  When she arrives, her hair and make-up is perfectly done; she’s in a stylish dress, adorned with an accompanying painfully hindering high heels as she makes her way to what is obviously a date. 

            However, it is quickly made glaringly clear to us that this is not a typical date.  The audience expects a romantic interlude to occur between the couple, which is what the conversation originates as.  Just as quick as it started, the kind chatter is brought to a close as Swan shockingly starts tearing into her date, accusing him of various crimes, which causes him to run. 

            It was her obstructed and awkward gait as she crossed the road that won me over.  Any woman who can openly admit that she hates high heels immediately earns my interest.  Her following display of forethought as we see she has placed a boot on the car was my second sign that this was a character I would quickly grow to love.  Finally, as she jerks the jerk’s head into the steering wheel and mutters her confirmation that she does, in fact, know nothing about family, the character is instantly affirmed in my mind as having a distinct potential as a role model figure. 

            Emma Swan has a very rough side.  She’s suffered a lot of loss in her life, which has developed a defensive demeanor.  This leads to a no-nonsense attitude and a firm belief in herself, if in no one else.  However, as time goes on, and certain characters crack through her hardened shell, we get to see a slight vulnerability revealed in her, which will eventually help to allow the audience to relate to the character on a deeper level.

            Emma’s default setting, however, is defensive, almost antagonistic in her need to argue and be right.  When she believes she knows someone is lying and everyone, as usual, fails to listen to her, she continues to argue until it is typically revealed that she was correct in her assumptions.  The bulk of the first season is spent this way, as Emma insists that Regina is evil, if not necessarily an evil queen, an opinion which eventually proved to be correct.  Again, towards the end of season two, Emma’s instincts don’t let her down as she suspects Tamara of no positive motivations—yet another insistence that goes disregarded until it is proven to be right.

Her defensiveness also leaves very few things Swan hates more than being told what to do—a trait we see plenty of in season one.  Every issued demand from Regina that Emma leave Storybrooke only serves to convince Swan that she’s making the right decision to stay. 

            At first, Emma uses this tenaciousness as her defense for her choice to stay in Storybrooke, as she rebelliously saws the queen’s apple tree to bits out of a vindictive need to continue their war—coincidentally, this is also the very moment that I decided Emma Swan was to be one of my personal role models, as she had the moxy to do what I always wished I had the courage to do.  However, as season one progresses, it becomes clear to the audience that she is genuinely worried about Henry, particularly in his convictions that every townie is secretly a storybook character. 

            As this concern grows, Swan’s intense capability towards loyalty is revealed.  We see it first with Henry, as she grows close to the boy and protects him from his evil stepmother.  However, we also see it develop toward—awkwardly enough—her mother, Snow White/Mary Margaret.  When everyone else abandoned the nun-like schoolteacher and accused her of murdering Kathryn Nolan, Emma was the only one to stay by her side and advocate for Mary Margaret’s innocence.  The Sheriff even goes so far as to seek out Mary Margaret after her escape, agreeing to hide the fact from the rest of the town to prevent any further punishment from coming to her friend. 

            But, therein lies the key.  The moment Mary Margaret became Emma’s friend, the blonde couldn’t help but put her faith in the brunette.  Previous to her arrival in Storybrooke, Emma had faith in no one but herself.  Tallahassee shows us exactly why that is the case.  Emma, young and impressionable, had been quite clingy and dependent upon Neal Cassidy, who she quickly fell in love with.  They debated starting a life together, with the money earned from various crimes of thieving, before August catches up with the pair. 

            August—who is really the one who dropped the ball here, but whatever—convinces Neal he needs to let Emma go, so she will be able to complete her destiny as the savior.  Neal becomes indignant, insisting he can’t simply allow her to take the fall, to suffer the consequences for his stolen watches.  August insists that Emma’s time in jail will straighten her out, get her back on the proper path to hero-dom.  Eventually, Neal caves—far too easily, I think—and allows Emma to go to jail, where she is left alone and pregnant. 

            Emma had trusted Neal one hundred percent.  The very concept of his betraying her hadn’t occurred to her in the slightest, which only makes the sting all the more keen.  She survived jail and, just as August indicated would happen, she developed a very tough exterior, to the point where she trusted no one for the next decade; I suppose you could say his plan backfired, working a little too well.  It is a price he pays highly as season two comes to a close, where he learns that Emma has closed herself off so much that she is unable to even see his wooden leg. 

            However, Neal and August are not solely to blame for Emma’s struggles and corresponding lack of faith and motivation to believe.  Her mother and father, however inadvertently, are still forced to hold some form of accountability.  In Lost Girl, Emma’s life in Neverland becomes increasingly easier once she is able to come to grips with her abandonment issues.  Until this time, she has simply shrugged off the issue, choosing not to focus on the situation or the resounding affect it had on her character.  However, here Pan forces her to acknowledge it, in order for her to find Henry and prevent the same damage from being done on her own son.  Mary Margaret, of course, attempts to defend their actions and her inability to predict the results at the time.  It doesn’t matter, though, as Emma’s suffering at the hands of the system has already done its damage—she may have her parents now, but she spent the first twenty-eight years of her life believing someone had actively made the decision that they didn’t want her, didn’t care about her. 

            This lack of supportive family structure—from both her parents and Neal—has imbued in Emma a belief that she can only trust in herself; everyone else has abandoned her and, therefore, it is simply safer.  An exception is made when Henry crashes back into her life, reinvigorating that strong sense of loyalty the audience saw her apply to Neal.  However, as it’s a decade later, her loyalty can be applied sans the dependence evident in Tallahassee, showing a strong sense of growth for the character. 

            This growth only continues as Storybrooke broadens the group of people she trusts.  By the time she breaks the curse at the end of season one, she has earned the support of the bulk of the town—for evidence of this, see the results for the race for Storybrooke’s new Sheriff.  However, Emma still is, at her very core, a realist.  She’s incapable of believing in magic, until Henry gives her no other option. 

            A Land Without Magic was revolutionary for Emma’s character.  It allowed her to really believe in something for the first time in over a decade.  It allowed her to confess that she did love her son.  Gone are the days of running for Sheriff just to prove Regina wrong, to prove that good can win just by being good, to prove to Henry that she’s worthy of his role as the savior, even if she refuses to believe in the nonsense.  Now, she can be motivated entirely by a desire to keep her son safe and loved.  But, make no mistake.  Emma is still steadfastly stubborn—she shrugs off her mother’s wishes for a group hug, insists on waving her gun around, and scoffs at the possibility of using a sword.  In short, just because she wants Henry to depend on her as his mother, doesn’t mean she loses her own defining sense of independence. 

From Bella to Katniss:  Is Emma a good role model?  Emma Swan is tougher than most females are allowed to be.  Typically, girls are either meant to cry excessively or refuse to cry at all; Emma falls somewhere in the middle, although she’s definitely inclined towards the less emotional end of that scale.  A tough exterior can sometimes grate on my nerves in female characters, just as the exact opposite end of the spectrum can certainly cause some chaffing in me as well, as both extremes seem inherently unrealistic.  However, with Emma Swan, she has very clear reasons for being so closed off, which allows me to forgive any crassness on her part.  Typically, Swan is a hard shell to crack, but few do succeed.  Mary Margaret worms her way into Emma’s heart early on, despite the brief period they have known each other.  Graham really was the first to open her eyes to what trust could mean in terms of an adult male since Neal—a fact which makes me still angry that they killed him off so early and brought no resolution to the potential for character development inherent in that situation.  August followed in Graham’s footsteps, as he played the mystery card in hopes of hooking her attention long enough to earn her trust.  As stated earlier, though, he pays here for his earlier play, as he pushes her to the point of an actual breakdown—a strength of emotion the audience had yet to see from Swan previously, finally showing us that even very strong females do occasionally feel compelled to cry.  She’s honest, never settling for passive-aggressive behavior when she could simply tell you what she is thinking.  The audience sees an excellent example of this as Neal and Hook bicker for her affections in season three, only to be royally (get it?) shut down each time, as an impatient Swan not-so-kindly reminds them that she sees no value in the diversion, which is only persuading her to dismiss both of them for the idiots that they really are.  Her aptitude to read people and situations is impressive—Swan’s ability to trust her instincts in the face of opposition from all surrounding sources is admirable and sets another exceptional example.  Emma also has an inherent inclination towards supporting underdogs, particularly those who suffer at the pushing of others.  She tells Ashley in The Price of Gold that “people are gonna tell you who you are your whole life.  You just gotta punch back and say, ‘no, this is who I am.’  You want people to look at you differently?  Make them!  You want to change things, you’re gonna have to go out there and change them yourself, because there are no fairy godmothers in this world.”  All her life, Emma has faced people repeatedly telling her what she is and is not capable of.  She had no support—no parents whispering to her that she can do whatever she sets her mind to.  Her motivation has always needed to be inherent.  Regina may think Swan hasn’t achieved much, but the mere fact that the Evil Queen believes as much means that Emma will stop at nothing to prove her wrong. 
Role Model Rating:  10/10

From Lorelai to Wonder Woman:  Is Emma relatable?  Were Emma simply a closed-off character with an impenetrable exterior, it may have been difficult to relate to her.  Fortunately for Swan, she has two saving graces—her ability to show peaks of a vulnerable side, and the humble origins from which she comes.  Her various touching moments between Mary Margaret, Charming, Graham, August, Neal and, of course, Henry, provide us with an undercurrent to Emma’s character.  We never see much more than a snapshot of what resides there, but it is enough to reassure the audience that Emma isn’t merely self-assured and strong.  Before I first saw Tallahassee last year, I would’ve never predicted Emma Swan—arguably one of the biggest female bad-ass on television to date—was once a clingy teenager, dependent on her fellow criminal boyfriend, ready to steal a home and settle down in Florida.  I spent the majority of the episode staring at the T.V., jaw dropped and flabbergasted.  The episode showed me that Emma Swan, independent rebel to boot, wasn’t immune to stupidity brought on by a boy.  Every girl has that one guy she went completely stupid for—in the process, losing her entire sense of reason and independence.  It would appear even Emma Swan is capable of such travesty.  The idea was oddly very reassuring to me and allowed me to relate to the character even more than I had previously.  I, too, have grown since my one-boy-induced stupidity of high school, but I cannot admit that I am in quite the same league as Emma Swan.  The episode gave me—and, I hope, the bulk of the audience—assurance that no matter where we start, no matter what trials or tribulations we bring upon ourselves or are forced upon us, our fate and our temperament is in our own hands. 
Relatability Rating:  9/10