VANCOUVER, Canada — George Takei sat in his trailer on the set of “The Terror” dressed in his character’s charcoal-blue yukata as we traded histories in bittersweet shorthand. For those whose families were among the 120,000 Japanese Americans incarcerated during World War II, one need only say the names of places to paint a picture.
“We went from Rohwer to Tule Lake,” said Takei, 82, who was a child when he and his family were imprisoned in concentration camps by the American government in 1942, more than two decades before he blazed a trail for Asians in Hollywood as “Star Trek” icon Hikaru Sulu. “There were no charges, no trial. We were rounded up.” (Takei will join the Los Angeles Times Book Club on Sept. 10 to discuss his graphic novel about the experience, “They Called Us Enemy.”)

You can’t go two steps in London without seeing Cancer Research UK’s (CRUK) controversial, ubiquitous and hypocritical ‘Obesity is a cause of cancer too’ cigarette comparison campaign. Apparently, we all have collectively forgotten this message from the last time they ran a similar campaign and were heavily criticised for it.

Rather than focusing on all of the reasons why this campaign is a horrible idea, because that has been covered at length by multiple experts in the METRO, on Medium, and on Twitter — instead, I want to highlight the reasons why these types of campaigns and everything the diet industry throws at us sometimes sticks so well — it’s our fear of death.

Obviously a charity that devotes it’s time to ending deaths by cancer is going to be motivated to… well, not talk about death in a positive way and seek to prevent it. Breaking the taboo around talking about death, being more comfortable discussing it, and actively planning for death doesn’t mean thinking cancer is a good thing.

Mild spoilers ahead!

I’m going to spend a lifetime with Knives And Skin. Its pulse of color, vibrating hope on a low frequency. Its unapologetic exposure of our inner-selves that is unspeakable, primal, and plain messy. Its audiacity towards the indulgence of surreality. Knives And Skin is a filmic whole. A complete body and mind. Everything we have and will experience if given the room. Due to its tonal soup, I celebrate its odd brilliance by speaking of and back to this film the way it spoke to me.

After releasing over 40 films and cementing themselves as the new home for horror, Blumhouse Productions is finally making a feature film with a female director. Sophia Takal (Green, Always Shine) will helm a reboot of Black Christmas. The 1974 Bob Clark slasher film follows a group of sorority girls over the holidays, where they are stalked by a mysterious killer.

hereditary

In a horror story, a young teenage girl feels as if she were meant to be a boy. She wears baggy clothes to mask her new curves; her hair hangs lank and unwashed around her face, to which she has not applied makeup; her gait is awkward, lumbering, unfeminine. This girl does not have friends and cannot identify with her peers, with whom she does not share interests. She is alone except for her family, who try desperately to save her.

This is a story that has been told twice this year in different formats. It’s the leading anecdote of Jesse Singal’s contentious reported feature “When Children Say They’re Trans,” which covered the July/August issue of The Atlantic and was released in time for Pride month in June. It also begins Hereditary, director Ari Aster’s debut feature film — a visceral, harrowing horror movie about a demonic cult with an American nuclear family in its grip. The stories share a premise, but they end differently. In Singal’s account, the girl, Claire, is saved when her parents sign her up for therapy, take away her access to YouTube, and guide her to the realization that girls can enjoy short haircuts and still be girls. Aster’s version of the fable arrives at the ‘tragic’ conclusion implied by Singal’s — it ends in transition. The girl becomes a boy.