Reader Response | Significance of Poe's "The Raven"

Published in 1844, “The Raven” is one of Edgar Allen Poe’s most well-known poems.  When examining the prose’s wording, the first thing that stands out is Poe’s use of alliteration and rhyme.  Line one gives the reader a perfect example of both.  “Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary” (675).  Weak and weary both begin with W, and their close placement is alliteration.  Weary also rhymes with dreary, causing the literary devices to be linked from the work’s beginning.  This doubling of alliteration and rhyme continues throughout the prose (Ex: Deep and darkness for alliteration, peering and fearing for rhyme, Line 25). Combined, the pair allows the poem’s words to flow melodically; a reader cannot help but read “The Raven” in a musical fashion. 

            The title bird is worthy of deep discussion.  From the moment he flies into the poem, the narrator’s curiosity is peaked by the Raven.  The narrator describes the bird as stately from “the saintly days of yore” (676, Line 38).  This description informs the reader that the Raven is dignified and most likely supernatural.  To add to this, the bird perches on a bust Athena, daughter of Zeus and Greek goddess of Wisdom.  To use stage terminology, this an interesting blocking choice on Poe’s part, and it serves as foreshadowing for the poem’s later stanzas.  As the poem continues, the narrator becomes frustrated by the Raven’s inability or refusal to answer his questions, simply cawing the iconic phrase “Nevermore” repeatedly.  This changes the narrator’s impression of the bird, referring to the avian creature as a “grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore” (677, Line 71).  While bogged down with descriptors, this passage informs the reader that the narrator is now displeased and frightened by the Raven’s presence, seeing the bird as an omen of disastrous repute.  The Raven is still supernatural, but of Hell, not Heaven.

            The Narrator’s impression aside, what does the Raven stand for?  After rereading the text, the answer becomes obvious.  The Raven is the personification of the narrator’s grief.  Sometime before the work began, Lenore—implied to be the narrator’s wife or fiancé—passed away.  The narrator now begins to read old literary works, hoping to find “surcease of sorrow” (675, Line 10).  Surcease translates as cessation, so the narrator is attempting to cast out his sorrow.  Once the Raven appears, his presence torments the narrator, pecking at his sanity as only grief can.  “Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door” (678, Line 101).  With these words, the narrator is attempting to permanently drive the bird away, and in doing so end his internal suffering.  This attempt fails.  The Raven remains perched, and thus grief remains.

            This is a deep sentiment.  Everyone has encountered grief in their lives at one point, usually from the death of a loved one.  While we mourn the loss, a part of that loss never goes away; how much depends on the circumstances.  An untimely death would be towards the top of the list.  While the narrator is unnamed, one can see a lot of Poe in him.  Poe his young wife to tuberculous, and certain accounts state he never fully recovered from her death before meeting his own.  While she still lived when Poe composed “The Raven,” she had contracted the illness.  In that regard, “The Raven” is Poe’s statement about what he was about to experience.  While it might appear he moved on, like the ebony bird, his grief would remain evermore.

First Impressions | Bright

       What happens when the Dungeon Master has too many ideas and decides to write a screenplay?  We get films like this.
Bright is a 2017 fantasy crime film produced by Netflix.  Taking place in a modern world where magic exists, Humans live alongside Orcs, Elves and other fantastical creatures.  While the how is never touched upon, one can infer this world had a LOTR-style past at one point, and this is the modern result.  Will Smith plays Daryl Ward, a veteran LAPD officer returning to duty after being on the wrong end of a shootout.  Joel Edgerton plays Jakoby, his partner and the forces first active Orc officer.  This distinction carries a two-way stigma, as Jakoby isn’t trusted by his fellow officers and other Orcs despise him.  While on patrol, the pair stumble across a female Elf in the possession of a Magic Wand, a rare item of immense power; as Jakoby puts it, “It’s like a nuclear weapon that grants wishes.”   With vatos, Orcs and a Dark Elf after them, the pair must keep the wand safe as they transverse the streets, as each of their enemies have nefarious intentions.
I was interested in the film the moment I saw the trailer.  The idea was interesting, so it could be a fun time.  I’ve also always enjoyed Will Smith as an actor—even if the overall film is subpar—and being a fantasy fan, I can’t help but pop for the general idea.  Going in, I kept my expectations low, as my colleges had mixed reactions:  some loved it and some thought the film was meh.  After watching it myself, Bright was decent.  The leads had a great repour—it’s obvious the pair work together, but aren’t friends—the action is competently shot, and the story had me invested.  That said, there were several elements that an additional draft could have improved.  The Dark Lord plot is mentioned early on, but the prophecy bit comes out of nowhere, feeling tacked on.  Many of the jokes drew out a chuckle, but several had my eyebrows raised, although I concede they fit the moment in context.

           Race relations is one of the film’s topics, and its allegorical analysis range from subtle to in-your-face blatant.  Set in Los Angeles, Orcs stand-in for African-Americans.  While some are mentioned to have money from sports—a play on certain ethnicities dominated different games—the Orcs we see are thugs, tagging walls and planning murder.  Gang initiation is brought up in the form of Blooding; a hold-over from medieval Orc heritage, but the real-world parallel is obvious.  Jakoby isn’t Blooded, so his own race scorns him.  Human’s view Orcs as animalistic brutes—which could be heavy handed, but matches most depictions of the race—and mistrust them, including Jakoby.  This hatred stems from a war two millennia ago, when they sided with the Dark Lord.  While asinine to judge one’s character based on the actions of one’s ancestors, Human nature is not always wise.  The police brutality scene is where I draw the line.  While I see what the filmmakers were attempting to get across, with how the scene is staged and edited it’s far to blatant.  We get it:  some cops use excessive force and get away with it.  Subtly please.

                Class is also touched upon with the elves—although we do get a brief race moment with the Federal one.  The Elves are portrayed as obscenely rich, spending their days shopping.  They live in their own gated community, which Ward and Jakoby pass through early on.  Although a play on how snobbishly Elves are portrayed as at times, it’s obvious they are an allegory for Hollywood’s elite, with Elf Town standing in for Beverly Hills.  An argument could also be made that they’re a play on the “Jews own everything” stereotype, but it’s thin.

              The Acting ranges from good to serviceable.  Smith and Edgerton are the highlights, carrying the film.  They share an interesting chemistry, a must for a great buddy film.  Rapace is alright as the dark-elf Leilah, but she’s one-note; like film Darth Maul, she’s evil because she’s evil.  She does allow for an interesting role reversal, as the elf is our villain and an orc is one hero.  Edgar Ramirez doesn’t have much interesting to say as Federal Elf Kandomere, but he has a presence; Ramirez feels like he walked straight off the set of The Lord of the Rings, swapping in his armor for a business suit.  Lucy Fry is the film’s weak link.  While she does ok as Tikka, I cared for her character mostly because the story demanded I do; although she did have moments; a few times I was reminded of LeeLoo, mainly because of her strange bond with Jakoby (spoiler:  it goes nowhere).

           The visual and make-up effects were good; with a $90 Million budget, they better be!  The Orc and Elf designs were typical, but fresh enough to be aesthetically pleasing.  I did like that each Orc had different skin markings and fang length.  CGI was used for magical scenes, but it didn’t appear cartoony or half-rendered.  I’ve seen better, but I’ve also seen much, much worse.  

          While he gets flack for Suicide Squad, David Ayer directed Bright well.  He made sure his actors weren’t wooden, and his camera shots made logistical sense.

                While flawed, Bright is a film I can see myself re-watching.  While not my favorite released in 2017, it’s easily in the conversation.  There’s already talk of a sequel, which I’m anticipating.  Hopefully the filmmakers learned, and the sequel does more of what worked and tone down what didn’t.  It’d also be nice to explore how Earth’s been impacted by the existence of magic and Tolkien fodder.  Oh, the possibilities.