Maria Is Confident

Sometimes when I see an advertisement, I imagine the madcap life of the person that created it. It's always some earnest guy named Darrin, who has Paul Lynde as his brother-in-law, and Larry Tate is his boss. While Darrin juggles ideas and storyboards, chaos reigns in the background, like a family friend hitting on his hot wife and having her turn him into a dog.

The reality of the ad-man's life is probably more like a stultifying group-think collaborative, because how else would you get an ad campaign like Quicken Loans Rocket Mortgage, that is so attuned to the culture?

This is "Maria," and she is "confident."

This woman is a new breed we'll call "Adderall Mom," because she literally does everything. Her hair is frazzled because she has to fold laundry, buy groceries, and raise a child. Her kid's hair is just as frizzy and unkempt. Both of these gals are apparently semi-feral.

She even plays lead guitar in a garage band. It's a grrl band, with her black neighbor on keyboard, and her Asian neighbor on bass. Diversity quota achievement unlocked!

Maria is a total Mary Sue as well, or maybe rather a Maria Sue. She can make household repairs like removing the trap to her kitchen sink to fix a clog and hell's bells did her daughter put a doll's head in the sink? The mother's psychopathy has been passed on to her offspring.

Maria's kitchen sink doesn't have a garbage disposal, and there is something else about her domestic situation that seems a bit off. She ain't got no mans. But wait! There, in the background, out of focus, that clearly looks like a man.

But look at the composition. He is on one end of the porch, squeezed into a corner, and the kid is on the other side. The kid's mother is literally and figuratively between them, even elbowing him aside. This guy is clearly auditioning for the role of father figure, and failing.

If you've made it this far, congratulations, there is another ad for Rocket Mortgage that induces even more cringe.

This is "Sarah," and she is also "confident." Sarah is a fifth-grade teacher who builds combat robots and wears an empowering shirt with GIRLBOTS empoweringly emblazoned in a drippy monster-type font.

Why "GIRLBOTS," I wonder. Did New Line Cinema trademark that well-established term of female empowerment, "Fembots"?

Nevertheless, this is a very important milestone in advertising, because it is established scientism that if little girls do not see women doing STEM on television, they will become very discouraged and become psychologists.

Sarah's advertisement dispenses with the husband idea altogether, because it's established science that any woman who's that good at STEM was born with a male brain and is a lesbian.

Here, Sarah so doesn't need a man because she can program a lawnmower to keep her, ahem, lawn, nice and trimmed. Kind of makes you wonder what other motorized or battery-operated devices she programs in order to maintain her, ahem, other needs.

I can't wait for the next installment in the Rocket Mortgage series. I'm really hoping for a lesbian couple, and it would be neat if one of them was in a wheelchair.

At least Darrin was a good straight man.

Wind River (2017)

Wind River, written and directed by Taylor Sheridan, is a multi-jurisdictional murder mystery set on an Indian reservation. U.S. Fish and Wildlife agent, Cory Lambert (Jeremy Renner), first appears onscreen in a white snowsuit, camouflaged to blend in with the wintry landscape. A pack of wolves is maneuvering to pick off a sheep from a grazing flock, and a concealed Lambert fires a round from his rifle, killing one wolf, and causing the rest to withdraw.

Two of Wind River's main themes are introduced in this scene. Lambert embodies the shepherd archetype, willing to protect sheep from wolves. This literal embodiment carries into a figurative one, as human beings are separated from their flock to perish.

We are also introduced to an implicit theme, that of camouflage and concealment.

In a subsequent scene, Lambert is called to investigate the killing of a steer, which he deduces is the work of a mountain lion and her cubs. "She's teaching them how to hunt. And she's teaching them on livestock," he tells his father-in-law, Crowheart.

The lions' tracks lead away from the steer carcas, to high up in the timber line, accessible only by snowmobile. The mountain passes around Park City, Utah stand in for the Wind River Indian Reservation in Wyoming.

While tracking the lions, Lambert encounters different tracks, the deep tracks made by a person running, and then sees crimson stains in the snow. The tracks and blood trail end in the body of a young woman, half-buried in the snow, her blue parka a bright contrast on the white snow field.

Lambert pulls out his radio and calls for emergency assistance in a flat voice, "I found a body on the Wind River Indian Reservation, I need emergency assistance." Renner's Lambert is emotionally composed throughout, but it is a cloak for emotions that are buried beneath the surface. Lambert looks at the ground while talking, or looks into the distance to compose his thoughts, and never betrays the pain he himself is still processing.

Lambert and FBI Agent Jane Banner go to interview Martin Hanson, the father of the dead girl, Natalie. The scenes between Lambert and Martin form the emotional core of the movie. A full Shoshoni, Martin is even more reserved than Lambert. Martin has a tall, warrior stature, hawk-like features, and black eyes that are trying to comprehend the loss and grief before him.

Martin tries to conceal his grief, because he must. What remains of his family, his wife and his son, are disintegrating. Banner encounters Martin's wife, Annie, sitting on her bed, cutting her arms and and hands with a kitchen knife out of pure sorrow.

Lambert and Martin go out on to the porch, and a little of Lambert's hard-earned Arapahoe wisdom pours out. Lambert shares the lesson from his experience with loss, telling Martin, "You'll never be whole. Ever. What was taken from you can’t be replaced. You’re daughter's gone. As soon as you accept that, as soon as you let yourself suffer, allow yourself to grieve ... You’ll be able to visit her in your mind, and remember all the joy she gave you."

This is just the first instance of Lambert acting as an emotional shepherd, guiding those in pain toward resolution.

Agent Banner, played by Elizabeth Olsen, is emotional counterpoint to Renner's stoicism. Olsen has enormous blue eyes set in an almost malnourished skull, and they convey the fear she would rather disguise. While Banner is interviewing Sam Littlefeather on the doorstep of his dilapidated drug house, he attacks her with pepper spray. This sets off a dramatic sequence where Banner pursues him inside. Her vision is impaired, and it would have been understandable for her to wait before entering the house looking for him. It's a moment of seized initiative, of peering around corners, trying to recover enough sight to fight.

Martin's son, Chip, is one of the inhabitants of the dilapidated drug house, and he is almost too far into a drug haze to realize the fact that his sister is dead. While Chip is handcuffed in a truck waiting to go off to jail, Lambert confronts him with this stark reality, and enables Chip to begin his healing journey.

Once the mystery is resolved, Lambert guides Banner through her own emotional gateway, helping her to transcend the experience, as the movie itself transcends the genre. Banner lies in a hospital bed, recovering from her wounds, and Lambert picks up a woman's magazine and begins flipping through it.

"I know what you're doing," Banner says.

Lambert reads the title of one of the stories, "'How to know if he’s into you -- ten signs. Number one: he looks you in the eye when he speaks.' You’re supposed to do that anyway, ain’t you?" This makes her laugh, and then her emotions come out easily, cathartically.