Wednesday.

I have a job interview today and I don’t want to stress about it, so I am going to talk about something else instead. That something else is the film “Lawrence of Arabia,” which is a journey I went on yesterday in an attempt not to freak out. Let’s unpack this.

I decided to watch this movie because it was one of my dad’s favourite movies. He spent an exchange year in Lebanon way back “before The War” (there’s been many but he was only referring to one, which I can’t remember the dates of) so I guess this film reminds him of that. Cool. I am here to deal with my grief, and if that means watching a movie to do it, sign me up.

There’s only one problem: This movie is THREE fucking house and 47 goddamn minutes long! WHY?! Oh my god! I can’t even imagine sitting in a movie theatre for that. I need more than one Intermission. In fact, I took my first three-hour Intermission about 20 minutes before the actual Intermission. That’s how long this movie is. I still haven’t finished it. I think there’s something like 25 minutes still left? Oh my god. Somehow it literally just never ends!

So right off the bat, I noticed this guy Lawrence is neurodivergent AF. They spend the first few minutes showing how he doesn’t fit in with the other British Officers because he’s too weird. He does weird things like have an Arabic newspaper (no doubt Al Jazeera) delivered to him, which he reads aloud and forms opinions on, much to the shock of his illiterate cohort who can barely read English. He’s also way too happy and way too smiley. There’s definitely something off about this guy, so they send him upstairs to meet with the Big Guns. They’re like, “You’re too weird to be here, we’re shipping you off to Arabia so you’ll have something to do.”

He goes off to the Middle East. There, he meets a lot of white guys with spray tans. It looks like they used some kind of combination of artificial tanner with heavy bronzer mixed with charcoal. Somehow he manages to keep his golden blonde hair perfectly gelled the entire time he’s out in the desert getting his own tan. This part of the film takes approximately 17 million years. Somehow it only amounts to an hour. Not even. How?

Then we meet Sir Alec Guinness as Prince Feisel, which is basically just Obi-Wan Kenobi wearing brown face and a significantly more fabulous traditional robe. He starts babbling on about the Geneva Code, which is a total anachronism because this movie is set during World War 1, aka 1914-1918. The Geneva Convention is a post-World War II creation, having been ratified in 1949.

No one ever actually met any Bedouins, Arabs, Turks, etc etc etc before making this movie. There are also no women in this film. As I said, there’s about 25 minutes left and so far I’ve only seen women twice. The first was during a display of their colorful traveling tents, which shows a woman’s hand peaking out. She is wearing a diamond bracelet. That’s it. That’s the whole scene. Later we catch a glimpse of the women standing above the peak, waving off the men as they ride their horses and camels off to war.

Imagine a world without women! Yes, it’s true. There are no women in this world, at all. That’s when it starts to get sexy. There’s definitely a lot of homoerotic undertones going on in this movie. At first I thought I was imagining it, but then Lawrence comes out of the desert with a teenage boy, heads to Officers’ Club, and demands a bed with sheets and a glass of lemonade for the traumatized teen who just watched his friend get swallowed up by a sandpit. Everyone is giving Lawrence the side-eye like… a bed with sheets just for him, huh? Right. Sure, Jan! We totally believe you.

*wink wink, nudge nudge*

Then we have about 20 minutes of British Officers standing around shaking hands saying, “Well done, well done indeed. We sent you in there to sort things out, and you’ve done it. You’ve gotten it all sorted out. Well done, well done, well done.”

Insert small military parade through the fort here.

Now I finally understand why we’re always going to war in the Middle East. It’s so all these delusional nutjobs can live their best Lawrence of Arabia fantasy. They all really think they’re going to be this guy someday. Wild.

Then after we have an actual male rape scene, where Lawrence is taken prisoner by the Turks, I think? The Big Boss walks down the line, looks him up and down, and starts eye-fucking him like crazy. The soldiers grab Lawrence and strap him down to the bench while the Big Boss preps himself. It’s… a lot. Like, wow. And then they just cut away to his friend listening to the screams outside the prison in horror.

I couldn’t help but think to myself that if this movie had been re-made now, we would all be subjected to a graphic, uncomfortable rape scene. Well, maybe not, because it’s a man, so we can’t show that. But if it’s a woman, definitely. Show the whole graphic scene, just for funsies! UGH!

Then we meet an American journalist named Jackson Bentley. That does not sound like a writer name. That sounds like a male entertainer who comes out dressed like a cowboy for his bit in the Magic Mike Live show. He’s asking all these questions and making comments about how fucked up everyone outside of America is. I finally understand where he’s coming from after moving around Asia for a year. Sometimes I see people doing batshit insane stuff that’s clearly leftover from some five century-old beef and I’m like, “Why?”

Anyway, he turns Lawrence into a celebrity. The parallels with certain political leaders are scary and undeniable. We get subjected to all sorts of crazy photo ops showing Lawrence is crazy AF. Then maybe he gets taken to the Turkish prison? I can’t remember which one happened first. I had to turn the movie off after the rape scene. That was too much for me. Where was the trigger warning, y’all?!

So after they finish, they throw Lawrence outside into the mud and leave him to die. Luckily, his bestie is there to pick him up and say, “Been there, girl. Let’s take you home and get you cleaned up.” After this he is only ever seen wearing freshly-laundered, pure white robes, because he’s an angel, or Jesus, or maybe just a White Savior dressed up in brown face pretending to be a celebrity.

Yep, so, somehow I was watching this movie for like 8 hours and I’m still not finished with it. Wild. I can’t even.

And you know what I didn’t think about? This job interview. I’m probably going to fuck it up, but… if I do fuck up, at least I will fuck up with style and confidence; the American Way!

It’s not actually an interview. They want me to come in and teach a trial class. I am not prepared at all. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m trying not to stress. I know I’m probably not the best candidate to teach grammar concepts to children. I’m really stiff and uptight and awkward. I’m not fun at all.

I’m not exactly the next Ms. Frizzle, okay? I love her, but I am not her. She is not me. She’s planning outfits and field trips and exciting lessons for her class. I’m watching Lawrence of Arabia and writing a humorous essay deconstructing it from a 21st century perspective. We are not the same.

I have no idea who I am or what I want. I just know that I tried to get on Facebook this morning and I was getting more harassing messages from those idiots back in SD. OMG just leave me alone already! I get it. You hate me. I hate you too. I’m a Hong Konger now. I’m very busy and important. I literally do not have time for your bullshit today, or ever. I have to figure out how I’m going to pretend to be Ms. Frizzle today instead of being my usual awkward self.

I can already feel the pressure to keep this mask on weighing on me. I wish I could find something to do that did not ask me to wear the mask of Neurotypicality. It’s not a mask I can wear. I try, but I can’t help who I am inside, and who I am inside is weird. It is what it is.

Okay, time to go do some yoga now. I got all the thoughts out of my head and onto the page. Like, really, this is my dad’s favourite movie? Jesus. I can’t even. Men and their delusions. It truly is a special treat to watch… sometimes…

Farewell!