"Witch" is probably my favorite episode of season one. Yes, I like it even more than "Prophecy Girl" even though it isn't nearly as substantive. I'm surprised that Dana Reston, the screenwriter of this episode, didn't write any more episodes of Buffy. Like most of the episodes of season one "Witch" isn't strong on plot, but it makes up for it with Sarah Michelle Gellar's drunken giddiness and an abundance of quippy dialogue.

Just a taste of the delicious quotability:

"I laugh in the face of danger. And then I hide until it goes away."

"There's a veritable cornucopia of, of fiends and devils and, and ghouls to engage.... Pardon me for finding the glass half full."

"Okay, into battle I go. Would you ask her out for me?"

"Pretty much like we're goin' out."
"Except without the hugging or kissing or her knowing about it."

"Why should someone want to harm Cordelia?"
"Maybe because they met her? ...Did I say that?"

"Someone doesn't like cheerleading?"
"Or likes it too much."
"Amy!"
"Amy."
"So, you guys are leaning towards Amy?"

"Well, I know that I'll miss the intellectual thrill of spelling out words with my arms."
"Ooh, these grapes are sour!"

I also love that Cordelia has to turn her back to the cheerleading tryouts because she is so disgusted by how good Amber is. It's a great character moment. There's also a couple of lines in this episode that I find hysterical, but sometimes people give me a weird eye when I laugh at them. I love Willow's explanation that Amber (Grove not Benson) got detention for, "Regular smoking. With a cigarette, not, like, being smoky," because, well, could you imagine that phone call to her parents in the other instance? "Yes, Mrs. Grove, this is Principal Flutie. Amber is being held after school today for detention because she was emitting smoke in the hallways. I don't know how you do things at home, but I have very strong feelings about students spontaneously combusting in my school." The directions for the spell that say, "Heat ingredients and apply to witch," also crack me up because, well, come on. "Heat ingredients and apply to witch." It's funny. It's like she's a carpet stain or something.

The only part of the plot that really bothers me is Cordelia going blind. First, Buffy should have realized Cordelia was losing her sight when she saw the outfit Cordy was wearing. Shiny floral patterned green shirt tied at the waist with pinstripe pants? Second, would that driving instructor really make his student, who had flunked the test three times, drive when she says that she doesn't feel like it? Not a smart move on his part. Third, Cordelia's failing vision would not have impeded her ability to step on the accelerator or the brake so that dramatic crazy driving that leads to Buffy saving Cordy from being hit by a truck sequence feels really implausible. But those white contacts Charisma Carpenter wears when Cordy's blind always creep me out.

I think "Witch" is the episode when I really start to like Buffy as a character. The show as a whole piqued my interest with "Welcome to the Hellmouth" and "The Harvest," but those episodes didn't have any moments when I really fell in love with the particular characters, with the exception of Xander whom I love when he says, "The only thing I can think is that you're building a really little fence." The opening scene of this episode when Buffy asks Giles, "You don't like the color?" made me fall in love with Buffy, and her loopy cheerfulness and slightly off-key rendition of "Macho Man" are delightful to watch. Even this early in the series, it's refreshing to see Buffy so angst-free and chipper.

The relationships between the main characters really solidify as well. The love triangle between Buffy, Xander, and Willow becomes sparklingly clear just in case you weren't paying attention during the first two episodes. Willow and Xander become Buffy's "Slayerettes," a name I dislike more than "the Scoobies" but only slightly more. The ill effects of the blood stone vengeance spell compel Buffy to trust Giles, and Giles reveals how protective he already feels toward her. Their exchange "Did we find?" "We found," also underscores an intimacy that they've formed. Buffy both resists and desires a relationship with her mother, who is caring but flawed. Joyce comes across as less new agey, and despite the whole hiding the fact that she's a Slayer thing, Buffy is surprisingly candid with her mother. I probably would never say to my mom, "Mom, I've accepted that you've had sex. I am not ready to know that you had Farrah hair."

While witchcraft itself straddles the line between good and evil throughout the series, the first bonafide witch depicted on the series is most definitely evil. Poor naive Willow has no idea that she's looking into her future when Amy's mom strangles Xander and then assaults her. The witchy effects could have used some help here. The swirly lights that finally take care of Amy's mom aren't bad (remember, the special effects budget was whatever loose change Joss Whedon could find in the seats of his car at this point), but some of the practical effects could have been better. The cauldron looks like it's boiling green tempera paint and Anthony Stewart Head looks pretty silly when he winces at immersing his hands in his magical brew and it doesn't do anything at all. They couldn't have made it bubble a little more or smoke or something? Not regular smoking, like with a cigarette, but actually being smoky.

Of course, the wonderful Elizabeth Anne Allen makes her first appearance as Amy. It's amazing to me that Amy, who feels like such a part of the Buffyverse, only appears in eight episodes. As a human, that is. Given that Allen really only plays Amy for about five minutes in this episode, I was a little surprised when she pops up again in "Bewitched, Bothered & Bewildered." And then another season goes by and she appears in "Gingerbread." ...I really wish she could have been around more often.

Buffy was all about the season finales with its season premieres often turning out a little lackluster. Not so in the case of "When She Was Bad," which is not only far from lackluster but is one of the best episodes of the series, in my opinion, and one of my favorites.

Season one was...cute. Forgive me my condescension, but "cute" is the best adjective I can muster. Had I watched the original broadcast of Buffy I'm fairly certain that I might have caught some of the episodes, but I would not have been inspired to fandom. The first season feels like auditions for the rest of the series or maybe like a really long pilot presentation. Visually, the show needs the season to find its rhythm, and Sarah Michelle Gellar seems to need time settling into her role. Watching "Welcome to the Hellmouth" in retrospect, SMG's dramatic abilities are evident, but she doesn't seem quite comfortable with all of the comedic demands of the script. In other words, SMG does well telling Giles to prepare her but doesn't manage to sell me a copy of The Watchtower.

All of this is to say that for me Buffy finally arrives, if you will, with season two, and "When She Was Bad" really kicks it up a notch. I can almost hear the "BAM!" as the opening credits begin to roll. The episode showcases Buffy's new look, which frankly suits her better, and cockier attitude that first surfaced during "Prophecy Girl." The stuntwork is also noticeably more intricate and intense, with a good couple of minutes devoted solely to showcasing how bad-ass Buffy is. I always enjoy gratuitous displays of Slayer strength. This episode is also the first of the series that really deals with inner demons more than actual ones. For the most part, season one is more about camp, monsters, and witty repartee rather than complex emotions and relationships until the very end of the season takes a turn for the serious. This episode lets viewers know that "Prophecy Girl" was not a fluke. I think it was pretty brave of Whedon & Co. to make their heroine act like a total bitca for an episode and not give her an easy out like being possessed by a hyena. I also love that the writers found a very simple way for Buffy to destroy Angel, Xander, and Willow in one fell swoop.

Side note: Admittedly, I think that Buffy acts like a bitca later in the series – indeed for the bulk of season seven – but the difference between that later peevishness and this episode is that the writers admit that she's being mean. I feel like Buffy often gets a pass on bad behavior later in the series just because she's the Slayer. Buffy's indifferent and abrupt attitude in "When She Was Bad" has a definite though not immediately apparent cause and remedy, which makes it interesting rather than tiring.

I'm not sure I completely buy Cordelia feeling any compulsion to offer Buffy advice about her campaigning for Bitch of the Year, but I do really like that scene. "Whatever is causing the Joan Collins 'tude, deal with it. Embrace the pain, spank your inner moppet, whatever, but get over it." Also, Charisma Carpenter sounds like she has a cold in this episode.

Though perhaps not the coolest musical guest (cough, Aimee Mann, cough), Cibo Matto's music is used to the greatest effect of all the guest performers. The sexy beats, eerie backing vocals, and cryptic lyrics of "Sugar Water" perfectly fit Buffy's "sexy dance" with Xander. Cibo Matto also gets the best name drop ever: "Cibo Matto can clog dance?"

Angel's lines sound like they were cribbed from a Firefly protoscript ("And that bothers me more than I'd like." "Why are you ridin' me?" "Happy to oblige.") and David Boreanaz delivers them like he's auditioning for Mal. Can you imagine if Captain Forehead had been Captain Tightpants?

The only part that I do not like is the after-school special music of wholesome reconciliation that plays when Xander and Willow let Buffy know that she's off the hook at the end of the episode. But Xander looks so cute when he's teasing Buffy about grinding her enemy into talcum powder with a sledgehammer.

It is not inertia alone that is responsible for human relationships repeating themselves from case to case, indescribably monotonous and unrenewed: it is shyness before any sort of new, unforeseeable experience with which one does not think oneself able to cope. But only someone who is ready for everything, who excludes nothing, not even the most enigmatical will live the relation to another as something alive.

-Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

Kissing Jessica Stein is something of a rarity in a couple of respects. First, it is an intelligent romantic comedy. All of the ingredients of a classic, mainstream rom-com are here — two people meet cute, begin a relationship, encounter an obstacle, and overcome it — but Kissing Jessica Stein asks its audience to think a little about sexual identity and things don't wrap up neatly at the end. Second, the film explores the relationship of two women who are choosing to be queer in a way not meant to titillate men, both in the film and in the audience.

An editor for a New York newspaper, Jessica has become frustrated with dating and spends her sleepless nights painting pieces that she does not display and reading mountains of books that fill her apartment. After her bitter and generally surly ex-boyfriend-cum-boss Josh lambastes her for being too critical of the men she has dated, Jessica decides to try something completely different and answers a personal ad from the women-seeking-women section. She meets Helen, a curator of a contemporary art museum who juggles three boyfriends but wants to explore sex with other women. The two women click and despite their conflicting attitudes about sex — Helen wants to get to it while Jessica doesn't feel that comfortable — they begin a relationship. Trouble arises, as it always does, when Jessica doesn't tell Helen about her brother's upcoming wedding and Helen gives her an ultimatum: take Helen to the wedding or break up. Jessica tells Helen that she cannot come out to her family, but her worries are assuaged after her mother reveals that she knows about their relationship and she supports Jessica. However, Helen soon realizes that Jessica really wants the best friend quality of her relationship with Helen that she could not find with men and that Jessica has confused a few moments of sexual desire with a sexual attraction to Helen.

This post is the first that has made me balk at the director as auteur theory that has dictated the titling of these posts because Kissing Jessica Stein is very much the product of co-stars, co-writers, and co-producers Jennifer Westfeldt and Heather Jurgensen. This project started in an improv theater class where they met and turned some sketches into a stage play. The play became a screenplay, which was purchased by a production studio and then bought back by Jurgensen and Westfeldt to finally be made into an independent film. These women have put a lot of effort, love, and themselves into creating Jessica and Helen's relationship, which translates onto the screen. Their chemistry truly sparkles as they create Jessica and Helen as fully realized, realistically flawed individuals. They are supported by an excellent cast of mostly theater actors, with Tovah Feldshuh and Jackie Hoffman particularly standing out as Jessica's very Jewish mother and pregnant co-worker respectively. Also, watch out for Idina Menzel as an enthusiastically curious bridesmaid.

I've been reading a particular website that focuses on queer women in entertainment for over a year now, and while many older lesbian-themed films have garnered quite a few references during that time, Kissing Jessica Stein has only been mentioned twice, both times in negative contexts. So I have to imagine that a section of the queer community does not like this film based on content rather than quality, and I can see why. As I mentioned previously, this film portrays two women choosing to be queer, and since many queer individuals think that homosexuality is biologically determined they may balk at the idea of being queer by choice. Indeed, an abbreviated form of this argument appears in film within the discussion between Martin, Sebastian, and Helen at a flea market. Lesbians in particular are wary of the concept of queer by choice because the idea is often conflated with the I Kissed a Girls who engage in lesbian sexuality to arouse their boyfriends. Personally, I see a clear difference between the two, the former being an understanding of one's queer identity and the latter being a consequence of heterosexual men's appropriation of lesbian sexuality for their sexual pleasure as a way to control women's sexuality. In fact, a real highlight of this film for me is the seduction scene in the restaurant because it acts as a reclamation of lesbian sexuality from straight men. When two men approach Helen and Jessica in a restaurant not realizing that they are on a date, Helen baits them into talking about why men find lesbians titillating. While the men describe what turns them on about two women together, Helen fondles Jessica under the table, thereby using the men's expression of how lesbian sexuality excites them to arouse her girlfriend.

The ending also causes problems for some queer women because Helen and Jessica don't stay together. Again, I find it refreshing to watch a romantic comedy that explores a relationship that isn't "the one," the one that supposedly lasts forever after the credits roll, and I don't think that the film criticizes Helen or Jessica for being in a queer relationship because they do not end up together. Many people dislike that Jessica runs into her ex-boyfriend Josh at the end of the film, because they interpret the encounter as evidence of the bulk of bi-phobic rhetoric, namely that bisexual women will ultimately leave relationships with women and retreat to the safe world of heterosexuality. First, I see the scene as more of a conclusion to Josh's storyline. He plays a prominent role in much of the film, so for him to disappear after the wedding, his passion for writing newly reawakened, would feel like his character arc had been left unresolved. Second, even if Jessica does get back together with Josh sometime after the credits roll, so what? Jurgensen and Westfeldt didn't write a film about Jessica and Josh's relationship: the movie is about Jessica and Helen and how their well-developed and respectfully presented relationship affects each other in believable, positive ways. In Helen's case, she seems to realize that she prefers relationships with women and begins dating another woman, while Jessica has become generally happier and less neurotic, quitting her job to pursue her art, and the two remain good friends. It's difficult for me to be unhappy with that ending.

Calling Kissing Jessica Stein a movie about lesbianism or even bisexuality is perhaps both inaccurate and limiting. This film explores the fluidity of sexuality and the tenuous line between friendship and romance with warmth, intelligence, and humor. The missteps, if one can call them that, are few. Helen's easy transition from dating three men to one slightly frigid woman seems suspect and Josh's transformation from embittered to sensitive could have used another scene. But mostly I have only extremely positive things to say about this rather groundbreaking and insightful film, which has become a favorite.

Blue tells a powerful story of grief and loss through the experiences of Julie, a woman whose husband and daughter die in a car crash that she survives. Unable to kill herself, Julie decides to sell her house and all her possessions to move into an anonymous apartment. In Julie's case, liberty, which is represented by the color blue in the French flag, is a life free of the personal ties that have caused her so much emotional pain. She has enough money that she can afford not to work so that she may live simply, swimming for exercise, visiting her local coffee shop everyday for coffee and ice cream, sitting on a park bench and enjoying the sun. But Julie is still haunted by the emotional trauma inflicted by her family's death, which manifests as a song that she keeps hearing in her head, a song her husband was composing. Julie soon realizes that she cannot help but be affected by the people she encounters: her husband's colleague Olivier who has long harbored a crush on Julie, her troubled but caring neighbor who works in a local sex club, the young man who witnessed the car crash that killed her family, her husband's pregnant mistress, even the baby mice that she finds living her closet. By the end of the film, Julie has realized that the liberty she sought to protect herself is impossible, and she grudgingly lets these people into her heart.

Blue is pretty much a one-woman show. Sure, there are a couple other actors who turn in nice performances, but Blue belongs to Juliette Binoche. For a good portion of the film, Julie is not particularly likable as she distances herself from reminders of her family and from her friends; however, Binoche somehow makes Julie sympathetic, which keeps the audience involved, while simultaneously not trying too hard to win the audience's favor. When watching the film, Julie always seems barely restrained to me, seconds away from breaking down into sobs. Each little smirk seems to hold back an angry outburst or cruel remark. Blue has very little dialogue compared to other films of similar length, so it's really up to Binoche to convey a lot of emotion through facial expressions and body language.

Of the three films, Blue is probably the "artiest." Probably because of the limited dialogue, Kieslowski spends a lot of time creating images that mirror Julie's mental state. Some of the more memorable ones include the image of a doctor reflected in Julie's eye after the car wreck, a sugar cube absorbing coffee, and Julie's reflection in a spoon balanced in the mouth of a bottle. Cinematographer Slawomir Idziak has said in interviews that Julie was originally scripted as a runner, but Idziak suggested to Kieslowski that she swim instead because a swimming pool was more visually interesting for him to film. For Julie who is trying to disconnect from her emotions and human connections, swimming is the perfect form of exercise. Inside a pool Julie is effectively cushioned from the outside world, her senses dulled by the water.

Of course, Kiewslowski and Idziak liberally use the color blue throughout the film, but I think that its use is very specific. Most of the blue seems to be items that prevent Julie from achieving liberty, since that is the ultimate message of the film: the blue folder that contains photos of Patrice's mistress, the mobile that Julie takes from her daughter's room (which is also blue), the pen that Julie uses to compose music, the lollipop and wrapper that Julie finds in her purse. Kieslowski also fades to blue when Julie begins to hear the music in her head and when she has sex with Olivier.

Blue is definitely my favorite film of the Three Colors series and one of my favorite films that I have seen. Many critics prefer Red and probably consider it the superior film, which it may be. The script is certainly more multifaceted and it generates quite a few questions that it leaves for the audience to answer. However, while I consider Blue and Red equal in quality, I prefer Blue because of the simplicity of its story and its singular purpose in portraying a raw, compelling portrait of grief.

Election is a delicious satire of high school student council politics that manages to generate both humor and poignancy. Alexander Payne's direction is perfect, and his vision is realized by a quartet of strong lead performances.

I'm amazed that Reese Witherspoon experienced difficulty landing roles after appearing in this film because I think her performance is tremendous. Witherspoon plays Tracy as manipulative and vindictive, but the audience can feel sorry for her when she sobs after losing the election and can still see her as a victim of Mr. Novotny's inappropriate attention and her mother's unfulfilled ambitions. She more than any other actor has to walk a very fine line between character and caricature, and a less-skilled performer in this role would have sunk the film.


With this role Matthew Broderick comes full circle from his star-making performance in the John Hughes classic Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Jim McAllister is the opposite of Ferris in every way, from his age and occupation to his personality. The Jim character and Broderick's performance elevate this film from being just another high school movie.

Tammy very rightly asserts in her campaign speech that school elections only matter to the students who run because "Student Council President" looks good on a college application. For the student candidates, the election represents a stepping stone into a promising future. Jim, who feels trapped and emasculated by his own life, resents that sense of possibility and drive, which he sees particularly in the overzealous Tracy. As Jim's life falls apart he becomes more and more desperate to deny Tracy her trajectory.


The visual techniques Payne uses, such as the freeze-frames, dissolves and wipes, as well as Tracy's "Navajo Joe" musical cue feel like an organic part of telling the story rather than mere directorial flourishes. Visually, Payne associates Tracy with straight lines and Jim with circles, implying that Tracy can move forward while Jim will forever remain on the same path. Payne also uses a recurring image of trash, suggesting that people are forever making and cleaning up messes.

Payne's script that he co-wrote with Jim Taylor is just as strong as the direction with one tiny exception: Tammy's story feels strangely truncated. Jessica Campbell plays Tammy so beautifully that I want to see more of her. I want to know what happens to Tammy after she lies about tearing down her brother's posters before the epilogue rolls around. Payne and Taylor's script demonstrates confidence in actors' ability to define characters, and they do not write more than the story demands. For example, Jim's conflict with his wife is wonderfully low-key. Election also distinguishes itself as one of a handful of films whose narration is actually good and adds to the tone and flavor of the movie.

With Bee Season, Myla Goldberg delivers a rich, sensual novel that explores a breadth of subjects including religion, language and familial relationships. Goldberg creates four distinct characters with very different worldviews, each on his or her own spiritual journey.

Aaron and Miriam seem to be on similar though diverging paths. Eliza’s spelling practice replaces Aaron’s guitar lessons in his father’s study, a time during which Aaron became acquainted with Judaism and prepared for his bar mitzvah. Ousted from the study, Aaron experiences a crisis of faith. At the beginning of the novel, Aaron is hyper-conscious of his body, sensitive that his body has not fulfilled the potential that his masculinity promised: he’s too pale, too thin, too weak, too small. Thus, in his exploration of religions outside of Judaism, he is drawn to ISKCON because of its emphasis of transcending the physical constraints of the body. Rather than transcending his body, Aaron reconstructs his understanding of his body through his religious experiences through Krishna. Once a source of embarrassment, his body becomes the ultimate instrument with which to praise god. The services at the ISKCON temple involve movement and expression with the body, and Aaron’s return to Beth Amichah prompts him to note that god should be worshiped through motion and not sitting in a chair.

Conversely, Miriam seeks a connection to her body or what she conceives of as her body or whole self. Miriam understands herself to be fragmented and describes the objects that she steals as pieces of herself. By “reclaiming” the pilfered goods, she strives to put herself back together. As an expectant and new mother, Miriam dislikes the baby’s demands on her body. Breastfeeding is particularly difficult for her because the baby is taking something from the body she strives to rebuild. Perhaps sex becomes appealing to her during her abstinence from breaking into houses because she feels as her body is being augmented in a way, even if sex is only a simulation of the feeling of reclaiming a piece of her “kaleidoscope.” Judging by Saul’s observations of his wife’s body during these encounters, Miriam does not derive any kind of sexual pleasure.

Aaron’s relationship to language acts as a gauge of his connection to a religion. During his studies with his father, Aaron masters his Hebrew pronunciation, which elicits a compliment from the rabbi on the day of his bar mitzvah. Performing the services in Hebrew that day evokes Aaron’s second experience of god, an experience which to him feels like an actual communion with god. However, Hebrew does not allow him a recurrence of that experience — he performs his part in services automatically, not needing to consult a prayer book for guidance, and plays “sheep” with Eliza. His distance from the language increases when he observes that he does not know what the words he says during services mean, merely how to pronounce them. While Aaron does not know the meaning of the words that he uses during ISKCON ceremonies, his lack of understanding does not concern him because he feels connected to god whenever he says them.

Saul and Eliza’s journeys are more closely connected. Saul’s spiritual path seems very much shaped by his father withholding his Jewish identity from him. Similarly, Eliza sees potential in his path to the national spelling bee because success at spelling could enable her to obtain something that Saul has withheld from her: his being proud of her for any reason but especially for her intelligence and academic performance. When Saul finally recognizes his daughter’s potential, he sets his daughter on a path that he had to abort because of his shortcomings. Besides her spelling ability, Eliza shows an understanding of language superior to her father’s in her ability to detect lies. Aaron notes several times his surprise at his father’s ignorance of his lying. Eliza always knows when Aaron lies and she knows her father lies when he fibs about Miriam after her arrest.

Saul is a character whom the reader both dislikes and pities: dislikes for his manipulation of his children and pities for his inability to attain his spiritual goals. Saul reminded me of a failed child prodigy in a way, in that he seemed to have greater success as a youth and young adult but his potential dried up and his success tapered off. Despite all of his aspiration to become a great spiritual leader, he only managed to be a dorm-room prophet, using his accumulated knowledge of mysticism to seduce young women and achieving spiritual transcendence only through the facilitation of drugs. He realizes the limitations of his collegiate and post-collegiate activities but never ascends higher than a cantor at a temple in his quest for transcendence through Jewish mysticism. Saul recognizes his children’s potential to continue the path that he started. With both Aaron and Eliza, he manipulates them into following a spiritual path: the safe haven from bullies that Saul offers Aaron becomes training for his bar mitzvah and the study help that Saul gives Eliza becomes conditioning for communing with god. Instead of offering obligation-free parental attention, Saul only offers his attention on the condition that the time ultimately results in his child fulfilling a part of his unattained spiritual path, i.e. Aaron becoming a rabbi and Eliza mastering Abulafia’s ladder.

Of the four characters, three have biblical names. In the bible, Aaron is Moses’ brother who leads Moses’ people in building an idol while Moses is up on a hill talking to God and the idol, of course, angers God. Naming the character Aaron as she does perhaps Goldberg alludes to Saul’s placing his faith in the wrong child: he expects Aaron to achieve the highest position in Judaism but ultimately Aaron “betrays” him by joining ISKCON. The biblical Miriam was Moses’ sister, I think, and one of the women who found him floating in a basket on the Nile. She was a prophetess and suffered from leprosy. This biblical characterization of Miriam as a prophet causes me to wonder if Goldberg is suggesting that her Miriam isn’t so crazy after all. And Saul is the first king of Israel whom God replaces with David because he broke God’s rules. Saul is a rather pitiable figure in the bible because God ousts him from his position for rather trivial reasons, including showing mercy to people in battle and not waiting to make an offering to God before heading into battle. Goldberg’s Saul has the namesake of his uncle Solomon, also a biblical king who was known for his wisdom. The combination of these two names describes Goldberg’s Saul rather aptly: he aspired to and was expected to attain wisdom but ultimately failed in a rather pitiable way. Eliza is the only Naumann name with no biblical counterpart, perhaps to accentuate her otherness in the family. “Eliza” is pretty similar to “Elijah,” who was an important prophet in the bible.

A Fish Called Wanda is probably one of my favorite films of all time. And I think that this movie offers an interesting reading.

The title of the film reveals nothing about the plot and instead focuses the viewer’s attention on an angelfish, a creature that is very beautiful and very fragile. This title causes the viewer to suspect that the fish will play an important part in the plot; however, the fish has a relatively minor role. I spent a good five minutes trying to reason the connection between Wanda and the fish called Wanda. But I think that the fish is merely an aquatic representation of Wanda.

Wanda’s sexuality is probably her greatest asset. Though Wanda is smart, she uses her body to control the men around her. The first scene illustrates a trend in her relationships with Otto and George. When Wanda tries to shush Otto from belittling Ken’s fish, Otto grabs her breast in an act of control. When George arrives at the apartment, she dutifully kisses him hello and George grabs her ass to show his control or ownership of her to Ken and Otto. Wanda’s allowing them access to her body has made them blind to the fact that she is manipulating both of them. Her relationship with Ken is slightly different. While Crichton included a scene in which Wanda uses her sexuality to control Ken and get information from him, her actions also have something of a maternal element. Wanda kisses Ken to help him, to stop him from stuttering, and the scene concludes with Wanda kissing Ken on the forehead and resting his head against her breast.

Language and mastery of language seem to be key factors in Wanda’s relationships. As several scenes reveal, Wanda finds language, particularly Italian and later Russian, arousing. Ken has a terrible stutter and cannot master one language let alone multiple languages, so he never had a chance at a romantic relationship with Wanda, which might explain her more maternal relationship with him. George, while not unintelligent, shows no evidence of knowledge of another language. He tries to impress Wanda by quoting Oscar Wilde, though I cannot find evidence that the quotation is actually an Oscar Wilde quotation. In the scene in which Wanda reveals her treachery, George disintegrates into screaming profanity; obviously, he could not be the man whom Wanda stays with. Otto is an idiot and Wanda recognizes his mistakes. He also speaks very crudely and is, as Archie notes, a “true vulgarian.” But Otto can pretend to speak Italian, which holds Wanda’s interest. However, Otto doesn’t actually speak Italian, only regurgitates menu selections and names of Italian dictators. He might entertain Wanda temporarily but not ultimately keep her interest.

Archie, however, has a superior grasp of language. He commiserates that Englishmen fear saying the wrong thing — he understands the delicacies of speech. Archie also can actually speak Italian, unlike Otto, as well as Russian. But despite his mastery of language, Archie does not use it to control Wanda as Otto does. When Otto feels jealous at Wanda’s comment that Archie is “kind of cute in a pompous sort of way,” he says that “Otto does not approve” and then begins “speaking Italian” to remind her of his sexual power over her. When Archie and Wanda attempt to have an affair, she asks him if he can speak Italian, which he does, but instead of continuing to use the Italian to control her, Archie begins to speak Russian instead, which Wanda finds more arousing. Later in the film, Wanda asks Archie to speak Russian and he refuses. He does not speak the language until they have come to an understanding and to equal footing, after he becomes involved in stealing the diamonds and fleeing the country.

Back to the fish. The angelfish symbolizes Wanda’s false image as a fragile thing, useful only for her beauty. Otto destroying the fish represents Wanda shedding her pretenses and finding a relationship in which she may be herself.