Monthly Flicks: The Best Years of Our Lives

As I mentioned last week when I was discussing the Bechdel and Mako Mori tests, I’ve decided to revisit some of my favorite classic films to see how they rate with regard to female representation. This month’s installment is in my opinion one of the best movies about returning veterans of all time. 

The Best Years of Our Lives follows the lives of three servicemen as they readjust to life after World War II. Fred, a bombardier with the Army Air Corps; Homer, a Navy amputee; and Al, a hard nosed Infantry sergeant, find that the world they are returning to no longer fits with the people they have become during their years of military service. 

The three meet completely by accident on their return flight home to Boone City, a fictitious town located somewhere in the Midwest. Initially, they each share an excitement about the possibilities that life out of the service will hold, but as they draw nearer to their homes, that excitement turns to anxiety at the thought of what that future will actually be. After quickly reuniting with family, they find themselves together at Butches, a local bar owned by Homer’s uncle. In many ways, they seem to feel more comfortable with each other, even though they’ve only just met, than they do with the families they’ve known all their lives. 

While many other films of the time reflected the national patriotism with a fervor never since matched, The Best Years of Our Lives digs deeper into the human toll of war. This film takes an in depth and honest look at the difficulties service members face when the battle ends and they return to normal life. There is no sugarcoating of the issues here. These men deal with PTSD (known at the time as shell shock), anxiety, depression, alcoholism, and injuries that will never heal. In short, they deal with the same emotions and hardships that servicemen and women deal with today. There is adultery and a broken marriage. There is disillusionment with the establishment and with the corporate ladder. And there is frustration with the difficulties with getting the benefits these veterans deserve. 

Directed by William Wyler, The Best Years of Our Lives features an all-star cast including Myrna Loy, Fredric March, Teresa Wright, Hoagy Carmichael, Virginia Mayo, Dana Andrews, and Harold Russell. It was released in 1946 and quickly garnered international critical acclaim. It soon became the highest grossing film since Gone With the Wind with over 20 million tickets sold in the United Kingdom alone. It took home seven Oscars including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, and Best Supporting Actor for Harold Russell’s portrayal of an amputee veteran. This film is frequently rated in the top 25 of all films ever made. 

Granted, this movie doesn’t include any female veterans nor does it address the female service members who served during WWII. It does not include any minorities nor any diverse ethnic group. This may seem odd or biased looking back at this movie now, but historically speaking this makes sense for the time. Of the 16 million members of the US Armed Forces, only 350 thousand were women. Only fifteen percent of service members were African American. The Armed Forces would not be desegregated for another two years after the release of this film. Consequently, many areas of the US would not see desegregation for several more decades. For better or worse, this movie serves as a realistic representation of what America looked like in 1946 and the biases that were held.

As such a realistic film, how does it stack up with the informal modern Bechdel and Mako Mori tests? First let’s look at the Bechdel Test. The Best Years of Our Lives has eight named female characters; four of those are major characters. Furthermore, they do have conversations with each other although many of the conversations are in reference to the men in their lives. There is one conversation, however, between Marie and Peggy in which Marie points up to the sign on the ladies restroom and says, “I never pay attention to the sign. I just go right in.” 

As far as the Mako Mori test, it requires that a female character have a character arc that is independent of the male characters. In other words, she needs to be her own person. Many of the women in this movie follow the traditional paths available to women during that time. They marry and raise a family. Sometimes those marriages are happy. Other times they are not. Regardless, they are expected to follow the traditional path of homemaker. Marie, however, does not hold to that notion. She is unhappy with her marriage and charts her own course. She is the one who decides the marriage is over, not her husband. 

I would rate this film as passing both the Bechdel (although not strongly) and the Mako Mori Tests.

Personally, I would put it in my top 5 favorites of all time. It is one of those films I can watch every time I see it on television. It never seems to get old for me and there are moments that punch me in the gut each time I watch it despite the fact that I know they are coming. For my money, few other films hold up as well or feel as modern as this production. The cars may be different, the stores may sell different products, and clothing is older, but these men could easily be returning home from any war since 1946. 

I highly recommend watching The Best Years of Our Lives if you haven’t already seen it. 

My rating: 5 popcorn buckets!

The Bechdel and Mako Mori Tests

As a writer, I tend to spend a lot of time researching different topics for my stories. Sometimes this research is conducted in a timely manner and I return to the story at hand within minutes. More often than not, I find myself lost in a labyrinth of information surfing random pages on the internet for hours on end. It was during one such journey that I stumbled across the Bechdel Test.

For those of you like me who have never heard of this test, let me explain. The Bechdel Test is an unofficial method of determining the female representation in a fictional work of art. It can be used for anything really, but it is most commonly used for literature and movies. 

The test first appeared in 1985 when the American cartoonist Alison Bechdel mentioned it in her comic strip. Since that time, it has been used to show how females are or are not represented in fiction. 

The test is fairly simple. It requires that there be two named female characters. These two female characters must have a conversation at some point. The conversation must be about something other than a man or the lead male character. 

Pretty simple, right?

Apparently not. 

As I began to research this a bit further, I was intrigued to learn that only about 58% of all movies pass all three elements of this test.  

Only 58%!

Granted, as a movie buff, I could easily think of some old war movies in which there simply weren’t any female characters.  Sahara from 1943 with Humphrey Bogart comes to mind immediately. That movie was about an American tanker unit lost in the middle of the Sahara desert during WWII. Since there were no women assigned to tank units in 1943, it makes perfect sense for this to be a male dominated film. 

However, with the rare exceptions such as that film, it seems problematic for other films to rate so poorly in this area. Honestly, this number seemed a bit low to me when I thought about films that had a strong female presence.

I soon learned that there was another test designed to also rate gender equality in fiction. The Mako Mori test was developed by a fan of the movie Pacific Rim and states that a work must have a named female character and she must have a character arc that is independent of the male characters in the work.

I was intrigued. Surely between these two independent, and albeit unofficial, tests, most films would pass. Sadly, that was a bit optimistic.

According to the Geena Davis Institute on Gender in Media, of over 100 films made worldwide between 2010 and 2013, only about 30% of the named characters were female.  In case you’re wondering, the statistics indicate that as of 2020 women make up 49.58% of the world’s population.

I began to think back to all the old classics I have enjoyed so many times. I thought back to the famous actresses I’ve watched for hours on end: Barbara Stanwyck, Ginger Rogers, Katherine Hepburn, Myrna Loy, Irene Dunne, and Maureen O’Hara. The list can go on and on. I thought back to those wonderful old films and wondered how they would stack up against these modern equality tests. Would they be able to pass or would they hover around the 58% range as well?

So, on the second Friday of each month, I will be discussing a classic film and how it relates to these two tests. I have no doubt that some gems will fail the tests while others may pass. Either way, it will give me a great excuse to reexamine the old movies that I love so much. 

I hope that you’ll join me on this journey. Perhaps we’ll discover some new jewels or rediscover some lost treasures. What could be better? This month I’ll looking at one of my favorites, The Best Years of Our Lives. It’s a true gem that I love talking about whenever the opportunity arises. So, until next Friday,

All the Best!

Time or Inspiration?

I always knew that one day I wanted to be a writer. Even in my youth when I dreamt of doing everything under the sun, I could always see the day when my name was on the cover of a novel. Today, that dream is a reality.

For many years, though, I struggled with writing. I had tons of ideas, some good, quite a few bad, and even a handful that were downright horrible. Yet, I was never able to actually put pen to paper long enough to complete anything worth reading. I'd fiddle around with the beginning of a story. Maybe I'd jot down a few passages from the middle of another. Very rarely, I'd sit down and write the ending to anything.

I didn't have the time to write.

Like so many other would-be writers, I didn't have the time to devote to my craft. I owned a business, was a wife, a mother, and managed the day-to-day affairs of a household. I took the kids to the dentist. I took the cats to the vet. I shopped for groceries. In short, I did what countless other novelists do on a daily basis yet they still found time to pursue their dreams of writing.

I couldn't write because I was too busy.

And then things changed. The economy tanked. My business closed. I got divorced. We lost everything and had to start completely over. Our family went through a financial and emotional upheaval. It was an abysmal time to say the least.

But something else happened during that process. At rock bottom, at my very lowest point, when those people who I thought were friends were nowhere to be found and I was alone, I began to hear that still, small voice in my mind. Stories began to form in a way I'd never experienced before. There had always been a dull drone in the back of my mind where ideas and characters went to die a slow and forgotten death. Yet now, it was as though I could finally hear, in crystal clear detail, what they'd been trying to say all those years.

I began to jot down some ideas. Slowly at first. It had been so long since I'd actually written anything that I wasn't even sure how to begin. Initially I would describe something or someone. A simple, short paragraph. Nothing overly impressive. Certainly nothing worthy of publication. Then I saw two characters, two ladies, as clear as the noon day sky. I saw everything they were doing. I could hear their conversation. It was like watching a feature length movie.

I had no choice but to write.

In less than four months, I'd written their story completely. My first novel. I had given birth to my first full length manuscript. That single accomplishment meant more to me than any of the business accolades I'd ever received. It meant more to me than owning a business. It felt as though I'd successfully climbed Mount Everest.

And in a way I had. I'd overcome my biggest obstacle in life. By every definition, I was the single biggest failure you could imagine but through it all, I had survived and found my voice.

Today, I can't imagine NOT writing. It's almost a compulsion. I have to do it. It helps keep me sane. It provides an outlet for emotions I struggle with and for ideas that randomly flood my brain. I can create worlds and explore relationships. It is the way I’m most comfortable communicating, the way I feel I can communicate my truest self.

Looking back at the differences in my life now versus where I was a few years ago, I realize how much happier I am today than I was back then. I had let everyone else's expectations and desires drown out my own inner voice. I had followed other people's dreams down a path I didn't want to be on. I had stayed in a marriage that should have ended far sooner than it did. I was miserable.

I didn't abandon my writing because I had no time. I abandoned my writing because I let my misery drown out my voice. I wasn't inspired to write. I wasn't inspired to do anything. I was merely muddling through life on a predetermined trajectory. Once I was finally out from under that weight, my writer's voice came back with a vengeance.

I can't say that there's an easy answer to the 'time' issue of writing. I certainly wish I had more time to write than I do. I still struggle with making deadlines and meeting my expectations of when a project should be finished. I am far from the perfect example of time management skills.

But now I find myself squeezing in time to write wherever I can find it. I'll jot down ideas or story sections while waiting at a doctor’s appointment. I'll scribble frantically on those little paper place mats in a restaurant. I actively look for interesting ideas that might make a good story in the future.

Finding time is easy once you find your inspiration. Once you find your voice.

I sincerely hope that no one goes through the pain and turmoil that my family and I went through years ago. In the end, it turned out for the best. I've been able to follow my dreams. I'm building a new life that I love. I'm happy. I've found my inspiration and my voice. But it was fraught with agony. I'm sure there should have been a less dramatic way for me to learn some of those lessons although I know that I was probably too hard-headed to listen.

I do, however, hope that all those who eventually hope to write take a few minutes to truly examine what is really holding them back. Is it actually a lack of time or have you created a life that denies your writer's voice to shine through? Are you truly inspired to get up every morning and write? Are you willing to slog through the difficult times of novel writing because you know the story you're telling must be told?

There's no right or wrong answer to that question. We each have our own lives to lead and must find our own path to happiness. I encourage you to make sure that path you're traveling on is actually one of your own choosing.

Best Wishes and Happy Writing!

The Elusive Letter Z

My oldest son recently asked me what my happiest memory was of the two of us. That’s a difficult question to answer. I was instantly flooded with flashes of us laughing uncontrollably through the years, but the one that came flooding to the forefront of my mind was ‘The Z.’

He knew exactly what I was talking about.

When my kids were younger, we played the alphabet game relentlessly. Anytime we drove anywhere, whether it was across the state or across town, letters were yelled with a fierceness that rivaled mortal combat.

Now I have since learned that there are several ways to play the alphabet game, so for the sake of eliminating confusion, we play like this:

·         Two or more players can play.

·         The first player who goes all the way through the alphabet in order wins.

·         You must call out the letter and the word the letter was found in to advance to the next letter.

·         Each word/source can only be used once, for one letter.

·         Everything outside of the vehicle is fair game!

For example, if there is a sign that says, ‘Fred’s BBQ,’ you can simply call ‘E in Fred’s’ and no one else can use that Fred’s again. Things start to get a little dicey when we drive a mile down the interstate and see another sign for ‘Fred’s BBQ.’ That’s a completely different sign than the one we just passed and that Fred’s is fair game. If you still need the F, you better call it before your little brother calls the E you beat him to a few minutes ago.

I’m not one who believes in letting people win, even my children. I’m not a sore loser, but if you’re going to win, you need to win fair and square. That’s true for board games. It’s true for card games. And it’s definitely true for the alphabet game!

You may have guessed, things tended to get very competitive very quickly, especially when Qs or Zs were involved.

And so, it was on this particular instance. The kids and I were traveling back from Columbus, Georgia to our home in Warner Robins. The road was fairly isolated without an abundance of signage. We were all stuck on the last letter. I had resigned to wait until we got closer to town where the options were better. My youngest was in the back seat. He had started playing video games and wasn’t paying very close attention. My oldest was riding shotgun. We had started chatting about something or other.

There was a semi in front of us and I moved over to pass it. Obviously, we’re still in the game. I glanced over at the tag and around the truck but didn’t see the letter in question.

That’s when he saw it. Burying in the DOT identification markings decal. He found a Z!

My child turned to me and yelled like he was trying to get my attention across the crowded tarmac of a busy airport. He clearly thought I was a thousand yards away because when he screamed “ZZZZ!” I felt my eardrum pass through my skull, out my other ear, and bounce off the window. For a moment, I thought I was a character in one of those old Looney Tune cartoons.

He was so proud.

After I made sure we weren’t going to wreck, I explained to him that it wasn’t necessary to yell quite so loudly. I might not have been as motherly as I intended. He was too excited to listen.

It took a couple of hours for my ears to stop ringing. He wanted to play again immediately afterward, but I refused. I couldn’t hear a thing.

We’ve laughed about that stupid letter many times since then. I miss the days when I had both kids in the car going to this place or that. Perhaps it’s time for another road trip, but I think this time I need to let him drive so I can really focus.

A Year of New Adventures

Unlike most other years in recent memory, I entered into 2023 without a single resolution. I simply didn’t see the point of walking into the new year with the stress of grandiose ideals that I knew I would abandon by the second day of the new year. So this year, I decided to forego the tradition and see where life took me.

Thus far, it has become a year of new adventures. It all began in January when my oldest son called me up with a brilliant idea.

“Mom,” he said with an air of excitement that was a bit frightening. “Your birthday is coming up in a few weeks.”

“Yes, it is,” I replied.

“Do you want to go to Duluth?”

For those of you who may not be from Georgia, Duluth is a city in the metro Atlanta area. It’s like many other cities in the metro area, nice but not particularly known as a tourist destination. It certainly wasn’t the first place that came to mind when I was thinking about my birthday.

“What’s in Duluth?” I asked.

“Professional Bull Riding!” he exclaimed.

He spent the next ten minutes or so telling me about different events around the country and how this was the closest one in the southeast. He told me about this cowboy who was the best rider in the world and some bull that no one had ever ridden. He even mentioned that this would be a great opportunity for me to cross something off my bucket list since I had never gone to a PBR event before.

Now, to be fair, my bucket list is several pages long and it is continuously growing so it is a bit difficult to keep up with all the adventures and areas I’d like to see and experience, but I can assure you that bull riding has never been on that list. Not even once.

Despite that small detail, for my birthday this year, I found myself in Duluth, Georgia attending the PBR event with my son. Honestly, I wasn’t prepared for how big of a deal bull riding is. It’s a whole thing. They have cheerleaders and fireworks. They have a halftime show where these guys come out into the ring and do backflips over the bulls. The place was packed and the fans took it very seriously.

Honestly, it was a great weekend. I got to spend time with my son. We met with friends over lunch and dinner. And we got two days of entertainment and a new adventure.

 In February, I attended the Amelia Island Book Fest with two friends. We showcased our books and had the opportunity to meet with new and prospective readers. We met some really nice people at the event and had the opportunity to explore the downtown area. If you’ve never visited Amelia Island, the downtown area is worth the trip. The streets are lined with shops of all kinds. There are several art galleries that showcase the local talent. You can grab a great seafood lunch and walk a couple of blocks to get some fresh ice cream. There is definitely something for everyone.

The next morning after the event, we rode horses along the beach. I’ve ridden horses and I’ve been to the beach, but I’ve never done both at the same time. It was such a relaxing experience. It was a little chilly that day and we went early so the beach was almost empty. The tide was out. We were alone with the waves.

Admittedly, I’m not the most graceful person in the world, but I managed to get off the horse without serious injury so I count that as a major win. And while this particular adventure wasn’t on my bucket list either, it should have been. I would highly recommend it the next time you’re at the beach whether it be at Amelia Island or elsewhere.

That brings me to March. After two months of amazing adventures, I decided to scale things back a bit. I didn’t really have a lot of extra time or money to devote to an out-of-town excursion. I looked around and found several introductory classes in the area, although I wasn’t able to fit any of those into my schedule. Then, while mindlessly scrolling through Facebook one day, I saw an ad for a free online ‘introduction to photography’ class.

Sign me up!

Now, I have no intention of becoming a professional photographer, but I do have a nice camera that I’d like to use without the pictures looking like a three year old took them. (No offense to three year olds!) I was excited to see that I could squeeze into a session that morning.

It wasn’t a long class and I didn’t walk away from it as a photography guru, but I did gain some insight into the mechanics of the art that should help me create better images. In short, it was exactly what I was looking for. It gave me enough information to feel a little more comfortable with the camera without any pressure.

Admittedly, it might not be what others would consider an adventure. That’s okay. I’m not here to impress anyone. I’m not going to be the next social media influencer with millions of followers jet-setting from one exotic location to another.

I’m fine with that.  

This year, I want to build on the first few months and see where life takes me. I want to learn new things and see new places. I want to hear new sounds and taste new foods. It doesn’t have to be big to be an adventure. And it doesn’t have to meet anyone else’s expectations to become a piece of my journey. I’m traveling this road for myself. I’m determined to find my own happiness.

Now, as I’m looking forward to next month, I’ve begun thinking about the state parks I haven’t visited yet. Perhaps one of those will be my next adventure. I don’t know yet. But somewhere along the path this year, I plan on taking some amazing pictures of the memories I’m creating.