The importance of: Tone

This is the first of a planned trilogy of blogs exploring three elements of storytelling I consider especially important. Each blog will feature examples of the focus element used badly, examples of it used well, will examine how a problematic movie scene can be improved using it, and how it factors into the creation of an original scene. The first element is tone.

Defining It

Tone is the mood and the atmosphere, how the overall story, and its component scenes, feel, and is important for giving your story texture and personality, and giving your audience a clear idea of what they’re in for. Characters and settings are the strongest influences on it, though such subtle things as weather conditions can also help create it. I’ve referenced it repeatedly in prior blogs, mostly film reviews, and it’s from those many of these examples will be drawn.

Doing it Wrong

The first example of it done wrong is Man of Steel. It honestly seems like neither the director, Zack Snyder, or the writer, David S Goyer – who I’m tempted to write a blog on, so let me know if you’re interested in that – really understand tone, as the film botches it at pretty much every turn. It’s trying to mimic the mood of The Dark Knight, but through flat characters, stupidly overblown action and one mishandled scene after another never even gets close. In my Rebound Effect blog I described MoS as tone-deaf, and probably the best illustration of that is Clark saving a busload of his fellow schoolchildren, then Pa Kent questioning whether he should have done it, as it could have given away that Clark has powers. The core idea is good, and a familiar one for Superman, but the execution is terrible; the rescuees being children, classmates of Clark’s, turns what should have been an emotional scene exploring an interesting moral dilemma into an awkward mess that just makes Pa Kent seem callous. It’s trying to be serious, but just ends up silly.

Super 8 is a film caught between two conflicting tones. One the one hand there’s the nostalgic, 80s-adventure-film feel, on the other a modern, hard-edged, horror-action mood, and the film’s inability to reconcile the two leads to a serious and persistent discordancy. As with MoS, a big reason is poor characterisation, not least of the alien, as noted in my Overrated Movies blog. Another one is that director JJ Abrams can capture the look of something, but really struggles with the feel of it, as illustrated by his Star Trek and Star Wars films. In Super 8‘s case, he overplays the horror-action, and misjudges the lighter, boys-own-adventure stuff, as best demonstrated by the projectile vomiting and an entirely gratuitous f-bomb. More restraint was definitely needed.

Speaking of restraint, a complete lack of it ruins Legends of Tomorrow‘s attempt at a broad tonal range. The moments of deep darkness and graphic violence and gore are so diametrically opposed to the generally goofy tone of the show they jar horribly. It’s just too extreme a shift, with little to no middle ground, and I doubt even the strongest, deepest characters could make it work, let alone the somewhat two-dimensional ones here. The only show I can think of that even comes close to pulling it off is Beastars, and the one time it falters is when it gets graphic.

Doing it Right

Examples of tone done right are the films of James Cameron. There’s the odd misstep – he’s seemingly incapable of getting sex or romantic scenes right – but when it comes to tonal shifts, you’d struggle to find better than how he transitions from quiet tension to explosive action in the two Terminator films. In the first, there’s the nightclub sequence; when the T800 and Kyle Reese arrive at the nightclub housing Sarah Connor, the film drops into slow-motion, serving both to set out with great clarity the geography of the scene, but also give viewers a chance to prepare for what’s to come; you know things are about to kick off. The same trick is used just as effectively in the second film when John Connor bursts into a corridor to find the T800 advancing from one direction, and the T1000 from the other. That lingering beat of a pause, an opportunity to adjust, makes all the difference.

In terms of tonal balance, there’s The Abyss, the director’s cut of which does a quite fantastic job of balancing tense, paranoid thriller with exploration and discovery that’s by turns mysterious, whimsical and wondrous. The key is in two characters: on the one hand, there’s SEAL team leader Coffey, a Michael Biehn masterclass in slow-burn, barely tamped-down psychosis, and on the other, Dr Lindsey Brigman, a driven, intelligent, highly inquisitive, open-minded, and at times even childlike individual beautifully realised by Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio. They personify the two tones, anchor them, and provide the basis for much of the film’s conflict, ably supported by the rest of the cast, and Cameron’s restraint and focused, fluid, naturalistic direction. Does it go too far at the climax? Possibly, but it certainly delivers the cathartic release needed after all that’s gone on.

For a good example of broad tonal range, it pretty much has to be She-Ra and the Princesses of Power. As detailed in my Reviewing Netflix Animated Series blog, this show manages to run a real gamut, from funny, to heartfelt, to kinetic, to scary, to intense, to moving, to joyful. The phenomenal characters are a huge part of it, but so is that word I’ve used a few times, now: restraint. The darker aspects work because they’re underplayed, understated, expressed through the characters rather than graphically depicted, and thus stay in perfect balance with everything else. Equally, it never becomes saccharine or too goofy, its lightness of touch and deft transitions an object lesson to other shows. This series knows its limits.

Scene Change

Star Trek Into Darkness is a film with no shortage of issues, tonal blips among them. My focus here is a moment featuring James T Kirk (Chris Pine) and Carol Marcus (Alice Eve). It starts as a walk and talk in a corridor, then they enter a shuttlecraft, and there Marcus instructs Kirk to turn around, and starts undressing as the camera pans from her. Kirk doesn’t keep looking away for long at all, though, and that prompts a lingering shot of Marcus in just her underwear, before, after being prompted twice more, Kirk turns finally turns his back again, and the scene ends. It is unquestionably gratuitous, and in tonal terms the problem is that we go from focused urgency to juvenile voyeurism with zero justification.

The challenge here is to keep the scene as is, with the undressing, but ensure it isn’t gratuitous, and the tonal aspect of that is as simple as altering Kirk’s behaviour. If he quits being a schoolboy leaning through the door of the girls’ changing room, and instead stays not just a Starfleet officer but a Captain, and respects her request, that immediately improves things. Stay on him as the conversation continues, keeping the focused urgency, and only pan back to Marcus when she’s fully changed. Or, have Marcus tell Kirk she needs to change, and why, and suggest he turn around if that makes him uncomfortable; it doesnt, so he doesn’t, and remains respectful and focused on their continuing conversation throughout; in this version the changing of clothes can be on camera, but not the focus, just one matter-of-fact part of the scene. Keeping the tone more consistent is key.

Scene Setting

Since all the examples used are from movies and TV, it only makes sense the original scene should be created as one, too. It’ll start in a small bar on the waterfront of a coastal town, where two people – we’ll call them Kate and Alex – are sharing drinks. They thought it would be a good, neutral place to meet and start to explore the connection they both feel, but that’s not how it turned out. It’s active and noisy, exacerbating their underlying anxiety, neither able to settle, and conversation only sporadic.

Obviously, the bustling setting helps greatly with the tone, but it’s important not to overplay it, not to make it too noisy and active. Peaks and dips in the surrounding conversations, louder moments and quieter ones, make the most sense, and the same for people passing by their table. Their postures will change in response, tense in the noisier moments, more relaxed in the quieter ones, their burgeoning connection subtly showing. Lighting should be somewhat stark, and mobile to match all the activity, with sporadic flashes of colour whenever a nearby slot machine is played. Camerawork will also be a factor, but again it’s important not to overdo it; handheld shots with a trace of restlessness to them, shifting only slightly, would work best, and they should focus almost entirely on Kate and Alex’s table in mid and close shots.

This part of the scene will be short, as once her drink is done Kate will decide she needs to step outside for a while. She tells Alex she intends to head to a private little spot she knows to skinny dip, an activity that always helps her relax, and invites them to come along; Alex tells Kate they’ll think about it while they finish their drink. Dropping the background sound to near-nothing not only puts focus on this exchange, but helps underscore a particularly strong moment of connection. A wider shot of most of the bar can capture both Kate leaving, and Alex watching her thoughtfully.

Outside, we follow Kate along the waterfront at the beginnings of dusk, out of the town, and down a coastal path in a series of shots, some handheld, some tracking, some fixed. The further she gets from the bar the quieter the soundtrack becomes, the more settled and natural the lighting, and the calmer the camerawork, in a slow, smooth transition, until once she reaches a fairly extensive swathe of lightly grassy dunes all that can be heard are the soft ambient sounds of the water, the wind and the odd bit of wildlife. Quiet music, a piano piece perhaps, can be used here, but isn’t required. The shift in the surroundings, from the bustle of town to the peaceful dunes, will certainly help, too. Her posture and body-language will also change, the tension steadily ebbing from her frame and expression.

Tucked away in the dunes is a sheltered little semi-circle of sand lapped by gentle wavelets, and it’s here Kate stops walking. She looks around for a moment, then calmly takes off her clothes and sets them aside, before standing facing the water with her arms at her sides and her eyes closed; she draws some slow, steady breaths, and the last of the tension visibly drains from her. The tone at this point needs to be peaceful and relaxed, reflecting the inner calm the act of skinny dipping provides for Kate, so ravishing her form with the camera ala Michael Bay or a soft porn film is definitely out. Being coy or censorious about it also won’t work; shots of just her head and shoulders, or legs from the knee down, or back above the hips, are too limiting, and could lend a contextually inappropriate touch of the illicit to what she’s doing; using the scenery to cover her chest, rear and groin would do the same, and at worst could actually objectify or sexualise by drawing attention to what you’re not allowed to see.

To maintain the peaceful tone, film her as if she were dressed, and keep things simple. A couple of static shots, one from the rear, framing her between the flanks of the dunes, one from the side with her on the left and the water on the right, would work for the moment she’s standing; a tempting addition is a front mid-shot from the waist-up with her again on the left, and a tiny hint of the town far in the distance on the right, above and beyond the dunes, her head turning and/or tilting towards it for a second, then shaking lightly before she opens her eyes and starts walking toward the water.

Follow or track her handheld into the water, and once she’s swimming, she can be filmed in many ways – from above, from below, camera pivoting to follow as she passes by at various distances, following, pacing, preceding, distant, mid, close – as long as it’s all naturalistic, like the films of Celine Sciamma or the swimming scenes from The Blue Lagoon (a candidate for a second Underrated Movies blog). it can last a little while, too, but not too long, and should end when she surfaces, looks back at where she came from, and sees Alex standing there watching her.

A touch of tension could be achieved by stilling the camera completely, and holding a near-silent shot from fairly close behind Kate’s head, with her to the left and Alex to the right. Then a close-up of Kate’s face as her expression turns decisive, then back to the shot behind her as she starts swimming for shore. Next shot is pacing her as she walks out of the water, widening as she halts in the shallows to bring in Alex, then holding, or possibly pushing in very slowly, as she offers a hand to them, again in near-silence. Then Alex smiles, quickly disrobes, walks forward to take Kate’s hand, and the camera comes to life, turning and moving toward the pair as they enter the water.

A few shots of them swimming together, filmed with a bit more energy and movement than before, and the return of the piano, with a touch more spirit than before, though still quite understated, would work well. The faintest hint of romance in shared looks, and touches, but no more; this is a big step in their relationship, but still only a step; there’s a long way to go, yet. Final shot of the duo lying together on the flank of a dune to dry, resting close, an arm loosely around each other, smiling and perfectly at ease as they both watch the last colours of the sunset and the stars starting to sweep the sky. Fade out.

Film Reviews

Spies in Disguise – It’s both rather fitting and yet distinctly depressing that this is almost certainly the last ever Blue Sky film. It’s fitting because it’s an energetic, often good-looking, fitfully amusing film that could sorely do with a lot less puerile humour and a lot more plot and character substance, which sums up much of their output. It’s depressing because their next film, an adaptation of the comic Nimona, created by none other than Noelle “She-Ra” Stevenson, could have redefined and revitalised the studio, much in the way Into the Spiderverse was a game-changer for Sony Pictures Animation, and shattered boundaries in the process with its non-binary lead and queer romance. Sadly, new owners Disney have decided to shutter the studio, and killed the film – only ten months from completion – as a result, and that’s a genuine tragedy. Blue Sky is ending with a whimper, when it could have been a bang. 6/10

Arlo the Alligator Boy – This film starts so strongly, with lovely animation, engaging character designs, an irresistibly pure lead character, wonderful energy and fantastic music, but sadly isn’t able to maintain that level. The plot’s a little too thin, the supporting characters lack real depth and purpose, the songs are increasingly less enjoyable variations on the same structure – the last one particularly underwhelming – and the writing too on the nose come the end. How much of this is down to the undoubtedly detrimental effect of the pandemic, and how much to simply not having things fleshed out enough to begin with, I can only guess. A lovely, charming film that does a lot right, but also falls distinctly short of what it could have been. 7/10

The Mitchells vs the Machines – Somehow, this film manages to be delightful, underwhelming and just a little infuriating all at the same time. It’s delightful because it has all of the energy and spirit and invention we’ve come to expect from a film with the names Lord and Miller so prominently attached, has the imperious Olivia Colman making a fun villain out of very little material, manages some genuinely stunning imagery, and has a brilliant score from Mark Mothersbaugh that frequently channels Vangelis. It’s underwhelming because the core thrust of the film, a dysfunctional family coming together, is far too familiar – not least thanks to 30+ years of The Simpsons – and not nearly enough is done to distinguish it, make that concept its own. It’s a little infuriating because the means to do that is right there in the film, but almost entirely ignored, which also results in one of the most egregious bits of queer-baiting I’ve ever encountered. The weak area is that main character Katie’s creative, film-making ambitions aren’t given enough weight, are never properly crystallised; they needed personification to balance out her family and especially her father, and could have had it in the girl at the college it’s hinted Katie has feelings for, but instead of potent emotional weight and conflict and palpable motivation, we get two or three blink-and-you’ll-miss-it teases that amount to nothing at all, while her kid brother gets a stronger romantic subplot, and that’s still little more than throwaway. Either the creative team lacked the guts to truly follow through, or, more likely, executive interference heavily compromised the original ideas, and ultimately the whole film. We could have had a ground-breaking queer lead in a major animated film, but instead we got a gesture so token it’s almost insulting, and that badly undermines an otherwise really good film. 7/10

Kung Fu Panda: A Missed Opportunity

As much as I enjoy the Kung Fu Panda films, especially the second one, I can’t help thinking a pretty sizeable opportunity was missed with the third. This is why.

Kung Fu Panda, the 2008 original, is a little bit better than your average Dreamworks movie, with engaging characters, a fun premise, and at least one genuinely moving sequence. At the time, it was the strongest evidence yet that Dreamworks were capable of more than they’d shown. It wasn’t without issues, though, namely an undercooked villain in Tai Lung, largely wasting Ian McShane, and an ending – Po revealing he’s mastered the incredibly difficult and powerful technique Shifu had threatened him with earlier, and using it to defeat Tai Lung – that’s frankly a bit of a cop out. It’s not earned, and it’s not very satisfying, just a convenient way to vanish the villain when he’s ceased to serve the plot. It almost feels as if they couldn’t figure out how to end the final fight, remembered the finger hold gag, and thought, “oh, that’ll do”.

Kung Fu Panda 2, thankfully, corrects the mistakes, and builds considerably on the strengths, resulting in what is, for me, one of the best films Dreamworks has so far released. It’s brilliant in every department, a fantastic adventure propelled by Po’s deep personal connection to villain Shen, who is every bit as stellar a foe as you’d expect when you give Gary Oldman material this good. Po’s growth is tangible, the new skills earned, the climactic fight thrilling, spectacular and deeply satisfying, not least in Po’s attempt to reach Shen, trying to heal his enemy, which is, as the film-makers themselves note in the commentary, a major tenet of kung fu. The Furious Five are all given decent amounts to do, and Tigress is especially well served, with lots of nice moments, a host of background details, more sides to her hinted at, and a tantalising line interrupted and never picked back up on. This is the kind of film that leaves you grinning broadly, and seriously excited for what’s coming next, not least thanks to the final sting.

Kung Fu Panda 3, sadly, doesn’t really deliver. It’s a fun film, no doubt, but not a patch on its predecessor. Almost everything KFP2 set up, all of Po’s personal and spiritual growth, all the themes of inner peace and heal thy enemy, all the ground work with Tigress, is forgotten; the only aspect carried into KFP3 is the panda village, and Po’s Dad. Instead, KFP1 is not only revisited, but largely rehashed, because we again have a villain from Shifu’s past returning to haunt him and everyone else, in the form of hulking brute Kai, who’s even more of a waste of JK Simmon’s formidable talents than Tai Lung was of Ian McShane’s. It honestly feels like a step backwards, and as a result it’s ultimately quite frustrating.

Why, though? Why the step back? Why remix KFP1, and not continue the great work of KFP2? Why revert back from personal growth to magical power (in this case chi)? Why ignore the plot and character threads of redemption and healing suggested by Po’s success in obtaining inner peace, and his attempt to reach Shen, instead not only returning to the vanquish your enemy of Tai Lung, but expanding that to utter annihilation of your enemy? Why, after you moved them forward in KFP2, not just reduce the roles of the Five, but make four of them puppets of Kai for a fair chunk of the film, and leave their leader almost devoid of agency? Why must it be Shifu’s past coming back again when, if the theme was to be continued, surely Tigress, especially given the hints in KFP2 and the clumsily handled theme of family in KFP3, was a much better choice? There was so much potential, but it was completely passed up.

I think there are two reasons for this. One, Dreamworks have always been, as most of Hollywood is, risk-averse, and when their films started struggling to make money, not least thanks to Illumination coming to dominate their former playing-it-safe market, it makes sense their only response would be to double-down on that, discarding whatever the original KFP3 plans might have been in favour of redoing what they knew already worked. Two, Hollywood has a severe aversion to heroes that use their wits, or their heart, or their imagination to solve their problems, which is why you’ll almost certainly never see a Squirrel Girl movie or film, and an even more severe one to healing enemies, to redemption; even in a film where that seems likely to happen, where it fits the themes, like Star Trek Beyond, it doesn’t happen, so it clearly wasn’t going to here, either.

Which is a real shame, and the heart of the missed opportunity with KFP3. Given the themes of the prior films, and the directions the characters were going, especially Po and Tigress, it felt like the right route to take, and it will be forever frustrating and saddening it never came to pass. Then again, given the imminent resurrection of Shrek after more than a decade, never say never.

If nothing else, there’s always fanfiction, and redemption is a common theme in KFP fic. In fact, I’m half-tempted to look into writing a little something myself…

The Transgender Rivet Rumour

Trailers for the latest installment in the Ratchet and Clank series of PlayStation games, due to hit the PS5 in June, revealed it will feature a new character, a female lombax. All we know of her so far is she’s called Rivet, hails from a different dimension to Ratchet and Clank, and is a freedom fighter, working against Emperor Nefarious, her dimension’s version of Dr Nefarious. Not a single thing else.

However, there is a rumour about her, and it seems to have gained a decent amount of traction, cropping up on DA, FA and Twitter: she’s transgender. The sole evidence for this I’ve seen referenced is that she has a tail, a physical trait only male lombaxes are supposed to possess, so surely she has to be trans. There are a few problems with this.

First, the one and only in-universe source for the ‘female lombaxes don’t have tails’ lore is a piece of between-songs patter on a radio station in A Crack In Time, which my memory insists was the Pirate Radio station run by Captain Slag and Rusty Pete. It’s referencing Angela Cross, a character from earlier game Going Commando (aka Locked and Loaded), whose species had not been specified before, but here is cited as a lombax, with the ‘no tail’ detail added by way of explanation, since she didn’t have one. It’s a brief, throwaway moment, possibly even intended purely as a joke, that many players won’t even have heard, yet is treated as concrete fact. That one or more of the game’s development staff have apparently referred to Angela as a lombax does add a little more credence, though still not enough.

Second, there are other, more likely explanations for Rivet’s tail. It could be a retcon, correcting something that may have been regarded as a mistake, or no longer appeals. It could be that female lombaxes in her dimension do have tails. It could be they decided she looked better with a tail, but thought a throwaway, contradictory past detail that in reality affected little of anything wasn’t worth the time or energy to address.

Third, developer Insomniac have kept quiet on the matter, neither confirming or denying. The closest they’ve gotten is one staff member affirming on Twitter that trans rights are human rights, and that’s still saying little of anything about Rivet. Keeping as much mystery as they can around her is a good marketing ploy, as confirmed by how successful, how attention-grabbing her surprise, and very brief, original reveal was. Also, keeping quiet on the matter means you don’t have to deal with either the anger of transphobes, or the disappointment of LGBTQIA+ people until after the game’s been released, and thus hopefully minimise any negative impact on sales. Cynical, yes, but they are a business, their main aim making profit. This is the approach Disney took during production of Frozen 2, when so many people were so vocally convinced Elsa would be getting a girlfriend, so there’s real precedent.

That Rivet’s voice actor, Jennifer Hale, is not transgender further reduces the likelihood of the lombax girl being so. However, there are some interesting wrinkles. The tail detail would potentially be a clever in-universe way of bringing up and addressing her gender identity. A non-binary former employee of Insomniac was heavily involved in Rivet’s creation before their departure, and have professed on Twitter to immense pride in her. All things considered, I can’t dismiss the idea outright, just think it extremely unlikely.

It’s a sad measure of how desperate LGBTQIA+ people, especially trans and non-binary people, are for good representation in media that any snifter of hope will be eagerly latched onto. Maybe, just maybe, when more details are released this Friday, or when the game is released, the hope will be vindicated. Certainly, I’d be over the moon to be proven wrong, especially if Insomniac get it right.

Misjudgements by the BBFC

The British Board of Film Classification, originally the British Board of Film Censorship, has been for decades the official film ratings body in the UK. While not as problematic as the MPAA in the US, I believe it still has issues, not least in the kind of self-importance and inflexibility that bodies as unaccountable, as without scrutiny as this one is have an unfortunate tendency to develop. Here are some examples of misjudgements, from minor to major, I believe they have made over the years, as well as, for some balance, an example of something they got very right. As always, these are just one person’s opinions.

Beowulf – Part of Robert Zemeckis’ series of CG, motion-capture-driven films, this was originally intended to be R-rated (15 or 18 in the UK) but, undoubtedly thanks to studio pressures, was reworked to a PG-13 (12 in the UK). However, it’s still a really violent film, in deed and in tone, which is true to the original epic, but surely too much so for the rating, most notably in a shadow-play scene of Grendel tearing a man in half and swallowing his entrails and the graphic disembowelment of a giant sea serpent. It honestly feels like the only real tweaks to reduce the rating were giving Angelina Jolie’s character a coat of paint, and the Simpsons-esque, impossible to take seriously censorship throughout Beowulf’s nude fight with Grendel. That it’s animated undoubtedly plays a part in the 12 rating, as the BBFC seem to cleave pretty strongly to the mistaken idea that animated violence is somehow less impactful (more on that later) but it’s also hard not to wonder if they were pandering to the studio a bit.

Home – This is a slightly different one, in that I don’t question the rating – the film gets intense enough at the end it’s genuinely difficult to watch, so 15 seems right – but instead the reason given for it. What’s cited in the BBFC’s explanation is a moment when the teenage daughter of the family stands nude before a mirror, regarding herself, and talking with her mother. It’s simply the fact that she draws attention to her nudity, regardless of how naturalistic and entirely non-sexual the scene is, that warrants the 15 certificate. This doesn’t really ring true, not least since the father and preteen son spend quite a lot of time running around nude, and that apparently would have been fine at a 12-rating. I get the distinct impression, from this and other films, that the BBFC is harsher on female nudity than male, with occasional exceptions. I also can’t help thinking they came up with the rating, then had to justify it, and since “emotional intensity” likely wouldn’t work so well on the back of a DVD case, they pinned it on the female nudity. it just rings a little hollow, to me.

Jaws – Spielberg has long had a knack for getting away with more than most at lower ratings, and indeed was instrumental in the creation of both the PG-13 and 12 ratings with Temple of Doom and Jurassic Park. Jaws has to be the zenith of this, somehow maintaining a PG rating despite the blood, violence and horror of it, from a severed limb to the Kintner boy flailing in a sea foaming red to the titular shark gnawing on Quint. This is undoubtedly a relic of the time PG ran a much wider gamut, and is long overdue being rerated to the much more appropriate 12. Note: my DVD copy is a 12, but because of one use of strong language in the documentary; the film is still a PG.

Innocence – I can understand why it might be a struggle to rate this one, given how deeply surreal and strange a film it is. However, it’s hard not to question things when the Irish censor board, generally stricter than the BBFC – one of the DVDs in my Star Trek: TNG set is rated U by the BBFC, but 12 by the Irish board, for example – gives this film a lower rating, 12 to the BBFC’s 15. The latter cites a moderate sex scene, but there’s no sex in this movie. The only thing that might count is a scene of a girl finding a furred glove and stroking her arms and legs with it, but that’s more sensual than sexual. Much like Home, it feels like they came up with the rating, then had to justify it, and the means for that here is even more tenuous.

Limbo – The only game on this list, and notable for how big a gulf there is between the rating given to it by the BBFC originally – 12 – and that given to it by PEGI when they took charge of game ratings in the UK – 18 (note: on some platforms it’s rated 16, which is a little contradictory, but still better than the BBFC). It’s a dark, atmospheric puzzle-platform game, and I recall all too well the shock and disgust I felt when, on losing to the first boss, it brutally and bloodily dismembered the main character, who is, and I must stress this, a young boy. Yes, it’s in silhouette, but it’s still horrifying, disturbing, and why on earth the BBFC thought a 12 certificate appropriate I have no idea. It’s curious, to me, that violence is rarely, if ever, described as gratuitous, as opposed to nudity; in this game, in my opinion, it definitely is, something reinforced by the fact it’s entirely optional. The BBFC got this one badly wrong, while PEGI got it right; it’s a nasty, ugly little game that needs a high rating.

Watership Down – Hands up who saw this one coming? This was, and likely still is, the most complained about film in the history of BBFC ratings, and for very good reason. The original book is famed for its unflinching approach, and the film pushes that even further; it’s dark, violent and intense and that it still, in spite of everything, maintains a U rating speaks volumes about the BBFC’s stubborn, truculent pride. My DVD edition has a lovely pastel-hued illustration for a cover, and the screenshots and blurb give no clue as to the film’s true nature. It’s greatly misleading, and the BBFC’s friendly green “U, Universal, Suitable For All” labels are a big part of that lie. This isn’t just a mistake. This isn’t just a blinkered refusal to admit that mistake. This is a genuine dereliction of their stated duty, and the clearest evidence I know of that they’re not entirely fit for purpose, that some reform is needed.

Tomboy – In the interests of balance, I must acknowledge that the BBFC can get it right. They upped the rating of Starship Troopers from 15 in theatres to 18 on home video when people questioned why a typically over-the-top Verhoeven bloodbath would ever be given that rating, and Hot Fuzz is now an 18 on DVD, though possibly thanks to special features, a more appropriate rating than the theatrical 15 given the insanely gory death – I well recall the groans of disgust in the cinema a friend and I saw it at, me covering my eyes for most of that part – it features. Tomboy, a gorgeous little French film, is also proof of this. It’s a naturalistic, minimalistic, character-driven exploration of gender, with a perfectly-judged ambiguity that means it can be read as a girl pretending to be a boy, or a transgender boy starting to realise and explore their true identity. It features the main character topless as part of their boy identity, fully nude in a bathing scene, tucking plasticine into their swimming trunks to create the expected shape, and sharing a chaste kiss with a girl, all presented in the gentle, open, matter-of-fact way the French are unchallenged masters of, and the BBFC, wonderfully, fully acknowledged that by rating it U. Tone and context and intent really matter, and as much as the BBFC too often seem to ignore or fumble that, here they got it absolutely spot on. Related aside: maybe consider adding this to the list of transgender-themed films the BBFC are currently highlighting on their site, another undoubted Good Thing.

In summation, the BBFC are lagging behind the times, a little too set in their ways and attitudes, and need more transparency, accountabilty and willingness to not only admit to mistakes, but actively address them. This is especially important in an age of increasing awareness and acceptance of wider gender identities and sexualities; the transgender list is good, but only a start. Being less like the MPAA – too lenient on violence, too strict on nudity and sexual themes – and more like PEGI, who don’t even require a rating or warnings for non-sexual nudity, would certainly help. At the very least, they need to be more aware that they don’t just reflect societal attitudes, but play a not-insubstantial role in shaping them, and that carries a lot of responsibility.

Sex, Gender and Identity

For a few years now I’ve been questioning my identity, who and what I am. Some aspects were relatively straightforward to pin down, but one in particular remains far from certain, and a source of more than a little emotional disquiet.

My sexuality was one of the less difficult aspects to work out. I’ve never been sexually attracted to anyone, and in fact find the idea of sex a little off-putting. I’m therefore confident I’m on the ace spectrum, though I can’t entirely dismiss the possibility I’m demi. This is not to say I’m devoid of sexual drives; they’re simply modest, and I’m content to attend to them myself. A curious aspect is that they’re tied quite strongly to my emotional state; the better I feel in myself, the less likely they are to surface, while the worse I feel, the more likely they are to stir. That release provides a boost in mood, a rush of endorphins perhaps, that I can build from to improve my mental state, undoubtedly ties in.

My romantic orientation was also not too hard to settle on. Since I’m able to become strongly emotionally attached to pretty much anyone, irregardless of their identity, I lean strongly toward being panromantic. Certainly the emotional and romantic aspects of relationships are what appeal to me, not the sexual ones. Physical intimacy still matters greatly, though, as my creative outpourings pretty comprehensively demonstrate.

The one I’m struggling with is gender. All I can say with any degree of confidence is that I am not the gender I was assigned at birth. I don’t feel like I’m male, but I also don’t feel like I’m female, so initially I came to the tentative belief that I’m somewhere in between, most likely gender neutral. The more I read up about gender, and the more I consider aspects of myself, however, the more uncertain I become.

I have a lot of personality traits that are traditionally regarded as feminine: I’m emotional, sensitive, shy, pacifistic, and empathetic. I have no traditionally masculine traits, unless you count an analytical mind and a sometimes quick temper. I am strongly drawn to female characters, always choosing or creating them in video games, using one for my Xbox avatar, greatly prefer female-led storytelling, have way more female original characters than male, and of the three attempts at a fursona the female one chimed the most. I recently took an online gender test that came out quite strongly feminine. A fairly common dream element is being female, something I enjoy and look forward to experiencing again. All of this is pretty suggestive, to say the least!

However, as my reading of late has made clear to me, a lot of what we consider male or female, masculine or feminine, is a social construct, traits somewhat arbitrarily ascribed to those possessing given genitals. How much stock, therefore, can I put in those traits, or that test? How do we truly define what ‘male’ and ‘female’ are in gender terms? Do we even need to?

Personally, while I’m not the biggest fan of concrete labels, some measure of definition, a decent degree of clarity, would definitely help. Partly through creative exploration I have come to regard, rightly or wrongly, sex as a person’s physical state, and gender as their emotional and psychological state. Sex does not determine gender, but it can have an effect on it. A disconnect between the two can lead to dysphoria.

I am generally pretty comfortable with my male body, but as long as my gender remains in question there will inevitably be a degree of doubt. I don’t know if my disquiet at not having any real clarity as regards my gender counts as dysphoria, but it certainly can have a quite pronounced effect on me, keying into my anxiety; it may even be a core element of the latter, but only recently a conscious one.

If nothing else, I’m in no doubt that the wilful ignorance of many high-profile figures, an insistence on defining people by their genitals, is extremely harmful, and that self-identification is vital. No-one should have the right to dictate who you are except you, and a person’s journey toward that identification should be supported and respected, not undermined and vilified.

I’ll continue my journey, through reading the thoughts and experiences of others, and personal creative exploration – my first trans character was clumsy and likely ill-judged, and I’ve striven ever since to improve my depictions of them and non-binary characters, and hopefully in the process started to understand myself better – and hopefully, finally, feel comfortable in knowing who I am, whoever that may turn out to be.