Fun with Interpretation

[This post is for the 5th Carnival of Aces.]

I’m starting to realize, more and more, that people are infinitely capable of different interpretations of the same thing. Two people could look at the same sentence, the same action, the same facial expression, and get something completely different out of it. It all depends on where you’re coming from. Our experiences, our opinions, and our ideas shape the way we view the world – and the way we view media.

Take anime, for instance. The first full-length anime series I ever saw was Fruits Basket. I watched the show around the time I was twelve years old. It promptly became an obsession. I’ve seen all twenty-six more times than I can count, and I showed them to as many of my friends as I could (and got them obsessed too). After a couple years, though, our obsession waned and we all moved on. I hadn’t watched an episode of Furuba probably since I was fourteen.

This past June, however, I got together with several friends and we decided to watch it again.

[Keep in mind that I am only discussing the anime here, and ignoring any aspects of the manga that aren’t present in said anime.]

Aside from the awesome nostalgia this viewing inspired, I was amazed at how much a different perspective can change the way you look at media. When I was twelve, I was an avid Tohru/Yuki shipper. I thought they were the perfect couple, and I was convinced that the entire anime was subtly backing me up. When I was twelve, I also knew nothing about relationships other than the monogamous, romantic, and heterosexual. “Straight” people were the only ones with which I had any personal experience. Had I watched the anime for the first time at age sixteen instead, I probably would have shipped Yuki/Kyo (I went through a bit of a yaoi phase in high school).

I’ve learned a lot since I was twelve – and since I was sixteen, for that matter. I got involved with LGBT communities and received quite an education from books, movies, and friends. I discovered asexuality, and started to read all kinds of fascinating things about sexuality, orientations, and relationship models. With this new knowledge in hand, I guess it’s not surprising that I looked at Fruits Basket in a completely different light this time around. As I studied the relationship between Tohru, Yuki, and Kyo, it occurred to me how much they all grow together throughout the anime. I realized how much they (sometimes subconsciously) admire each other and depend on each other. It became steadily more obvious to me that the relationship between the three of them was the most influential, the most meaningful, in the show. Then, at some point during the penultimate episode, I thought to myself, “Wouldn’t it be interesting if Tohru, Yuki, and Kyo were in some kind of queerplatonic non-sexual triad?”

It might sound a little farfetched to some people, but really, why not? If they matter that much to each other, and if it would make them happy, then what could be wrong with it? Of course, Yuki and Kyo would have to suck it up and admit that they both secretly respect each other, which probably wouldn’t ever happen. But the way I see it, the stronger-than-average friendship between Tohru, Yuki, and Kyo is much more powerful than any other “pairing” in the show. I might even go so far as to suggest it’s the driving force behind the anime. So, even if the writers and animators didn’t intend to portray such a relationship, what’s wrong with me interpreting it that way?

Furthermore, I also reexamined the relationship between Shigure, Hatori, and Ayame. Their friendship is clearly vital to them. Hatori had his doomed romance with Kana, and it’s possible to construe Aya and Mine’s relationship as romantic as well. But it’s obvious that those three men will always depend on each other, and will always come back to each other for companionship and support. I’d enjoyed their friendship (and antics) ever since I started watching the anime, but it was new and intriguing to consider just how powerful that friendship could be for them – and likely is.

Since I myself am particularly desirous of deep, meaningful friendship, it was really special to look at this anime and find it in the kind of relationships I might be interested in having. It gave an old favorite a fresh and stronger significance for me.

One last note before I end this: I am in no way trying to say that everyone on the asexual continuum should content themselves with trying to see “non-traditional” relationships wherever there is ambiguity in existing media. I believe that media representation is extremely important. We need media to show us people we can relate to, without ambiguity and without interpretation. We should be able to read books, watch movies, and listen to music that accurately represents the variety – and value – of us. Also, people who aren’t a part of the ace continuum need to know that we exist, and a very good way to accomplish that would be through media.

My Love-Hate Relationship with Romantic Comedies

So I’ve been watching a lot of LGBT films recently. This is because my local library doesn’t carry many of them, and I’m trying to watch as many DVDs through Netflix as I can before they up the price in September and I’m forced to downgrade my plan to streaming only. Oh, the woes of a broke college student.

Anyway. Last week I watched a movie called Gray Matters, starring Heather Graham, Tom Cavanagh, and Bridget Moynahan. The best part of the movie was the spectacular cameo from Alan Cumming. He plays a quirky, sensitive, and very Scottish cabbie who also gets to act a brief scene in drag. But I digress. Gray Matters, while obviously intended to be uplifting in the end, left me feeling somewhat livid. The main character, a lesbian named Gray, is portrayed as moderately dysfunctional; she’s ditzy, demanding, and a bit manic. She lives with her brother, Sam. Both of them are searching for love. One day Sam meets a woman named Charlie, and after one evening out, he proposes and she accepts. Brother, sister, and fiancée all go to Vegas so Sam and Charlie can elope. But the night before the wedding, Gray and Charlie get drunk and end up sharing a kiss. Gray flips out, but in the morning, Charlie doesn’t remember what happens, and marries Sam just as planned.

The rest of the movie is spent with Gray coming to terms with the fact that she’s gay and in love with her brother’s wife. Yes, the plot is completely irrational and utterly improbable. That isn’t automatically a turn-off for me. As long as the characters in a film feel realistic and relatable to me, I can suspend my disbelief enough to enjoy the story. Example: Love Actually is one of my favorite movies of all time, and that movie is CRAZY improbable. That scene with Thomas Sangster running through the airport after Olivia Olson? So unlikely, but so amazing.

No, what pissed me off the most about Gray Matters was the end. I won’t describe it in detail, if anybody out there wants to see the movie. Basically, it ends with the implication that all Gray needs to do is fall in love, and everything will be magically fixed. Even if she’s in love with her brother’s wife, she has to find someone else who’s actually available, and then her whole life will fall spectacularly into place. It is also implied that she needs to accept herself in order to be happy. That part of the message I very much agreed with. But there was a definite hint of, “You’re only accepting yourself if you’ve got a romantic/sexual partner,” that I found annoying and unnecessary.

This week I watched another lesbian romantic comedy called Imagine Me & You and, to my surprise, I completely loved it. Piper Perabo plays Rachel, a woman about to get married to her best friend and fiancé, Hector (the lovely Matthew Goode). At her wedding, as she’s walking down the aisle, Rachel happens to lock eyes with a florist named Luce, played by Lena Headey (who reminds me of a healthier, prettier version of Keira Knightley). It’s love at first sight, and even though Rachel still marries Heck, she spends the entire movie struggling with the strength of her developing feelings for Luce.

I’ll be the first to admit, it’s not any more probable than the events of Gray Matters, or the events of Love Actually, for that matter. In fact, there were a few scenes in Imagine Me & You that distinctly reminded me of Love Actually. But what I really loved about Imagine Me & You was the realness of the characters. Even though the plot was a little unrealistic, I felt like I was watching real people living their lives. They were sympathetic, they handled themselves in logical ways, and I felt a sincere liking for all of them (at least, for the ones you’re supposed to like, anyway). And after all, isn’t real life sometimes a little unrealistic?

Perhaps most importantly, while watching Imagine Me & You, I didn’t feel like I was having a judgement shoved down my throat. I didn’t feel like the message was “you aren’t being ‘the real you’ until you open up to romantic love.” Rather, the sentiment that stuck with me was “love is important and worthy of honoring.” That’s something I can stomach a lot more easily. I much prefer to watch people being true to their feelings than following some predetermined formula for societal normality.

Furthermore, when a movie implies that love is worth honoring, it feels a lot more open to interpretation – as if, whatever type of love you feel or don’t feel, as long as you find happiness in the end, that’s what matters. When a movie implies that you are only being true to yourself if you’re searching for your one true love, well… That’s when I take issue. But it’s likely that different people may have gotten different things out of these two movies than I did. I would be very interested to hear anybody else’s take on the films – or on romantic comedies in general.