Just a quick note to say that I'll be heading out to DragonCon tomorrow afternoon. There may or may not be a Thursday post, depending on the Net access situation at the con. Either way, normal service should resume by Tuesday of next week. (Which probably does mean a slight delay on the Storytelling Engines post, as I'll be in transit on Monday.)
If for some reason you're actually interested in meeting me at the con, I'll try (again, depending on Net access) to update this post with a list of where I'll be...but in general, assume that any kind of panel relating to Doctor Who, Firefly, or MST3K, there's at least a chance you'll bump into me.
And remember, if you plan to punch me for the 'How To Save Marvel Comics' entries, I just ask for a five-second head start.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Friday, August 22, 2008
The Video Game Museum
So try to follow along with my reasoning on this one. I was thinking about video games the other day, and about how many people see them as a valid form of artistic expression, just like prose, poetry, sculpture, or film. They're not just a game, they are a legitimate cultural phenomenon.
"That's true," I told myself (yes, I do argue with myself. I have a very solitary job, and sometimes I'm my own best company.) "But that makes it sadder that there's no real archival tradition in video games the way there is in other forms of art. People work to preserve old books, old sculptures, and old movies, but because video games are reliant on hardware as well as software, and because hardware progresses so rapidly, there's no real way for a new generation to rediscover old classics."
I pointed out to myself that this wasn't entirely true, because many video games are re-released for new systems and new formats. "Yes," I thought, "but that's reliant on the goodwill and commercial interests of the video game developers. Sure, they might reissue some 'classic' games, maybe even remaster and remake them. But still, the vast majority of classic games will fall through the cracks. You can't play a Super Nintendo game on a Wii, is what it boils down to. Without access to the older systems, the older games and the cultural traditions behind them can really only be passed down from gamer to gamer orally. There's no museum to--"
And then I pictured it in my head. A museum devoted entirely to video games. Starting with the first primitive Pong machines, developing through the years to the branching of genres into FPS, platformers, RPGs, MMOs, puzzle games...and the best part is, it could be made interactive so easily! You wouldn't just see an exhibit on Tetris, you'd be able to sit down and play a game! You wouldn't just see pictures of 'Resident Evil', you'd be able to see the classic cut-scenes playing out right in front of you, and understand exactly why older gamers crack up at the phrase, "the master of unlocking"! The cultural phenomenon that is video games might finally get the respect it deserves!
It'd have to involve corporate sponsorship, of course. Not only is it expensive to build and maintain the kind of museum I'm talking about, but the major video game companies have archival material that the museum would pretty much have to have, by necessity. But I think that any sane company would jump at the chance to help sponsor a museum that would promote their medium to this degree--wouldn't Nintendo love to help out with an "Evolution of Mario" exhibit, for example? Heck, even the gift shop would have synergy. Tour the museum, check out the classic games, then buy reissued editions to take home with you!
It's a huge, daunting task to even consider, and I'll admit I don't know the first thing about how you start a museum. But I think it's an idea with real commercial potential, a solid concept with an eager fanbase willing to support it, and a cool idea for a tourist destination. Anyone out there who does know how to start a museum agree with me?
"That's true," I told myself (yes, I do argue with myself. I have a very solitary job, and sometimes I'm my own best company.) "But that makes it sadder that there's no real archival tradition in video games the way there is in other forms of art. People work to preserve old books, old sculptures, and old movies, but because video games are reliant on hardware as well as software, and because hardware progresses so rapidly, there's no real way for a new generation to rediscover old classics."
I pointed out to myself that this wasn't entirely true, because many video games are re-released for new systems and new formats. "Yes," I thought, "but that's reliant on the goodwill and commercial interests of the video game developers. Sure, they might reissue some 'classic' games, maybe even remaster and remake them. But still, the vast majority of classic games will fall through the cracks. You can't play a Super Nintendo game on a Wii, is what it boils down to. Without access to the older systems, the older games and the cultural traditions behind them can really only be passed down from gamer to gamer orally. There's no museum to--"
And then I pictured it in my head. A museum devoted entirely to video games. Starting with the first primitive Pong machines, developing through the years to the branching of genres into FPS, platformers, RPGs, MMOs, puzzle games...and the best part is, it could be made interactive so easily! You wouldn't just see an exhibit on Tetris, you'd be able to sit down and play a game! You wouldn't just see pictures of 'Resident Evil', you'd be able to see the classic cut-scenes playing out right in front of you, and understand exactly why older gamers crack up at the phrase, "the master of unlocking"! The cultural phenomenon that is video games might finally get the respect it deserves!
It'd have to involve corporate sponsorship, of course. Not only is it expensive to build and maintain the kind of museum I'm talking about, but the major video game companies have archival material that the museum would pretty much have to have, by necessity. But I think that any sane company would jump at the chance to help sponsor a museum that would promote their medium to this degree--wouldn't Nintendo love to help out with an "Evolution of Mario" exhibit, for example? Heck, even the gift shop would have synergy. Tour the museum, check out the classic games, then buy reissued editions to take home with you!
It's a huge, daunting task to even consider, and I'll admit I don't know the first thing about how you start a museum. But I think it's an idea with real commercial potential, a solid concept with an eager fanbase willing to support it, and a cool idea for a tourist destination. Anyone out there who does know how to start a museum agree with me?
Monday, August 18, 2008
Storytelling Engines: Angel
(or "You Knew The Job Was Dangerous When You Took It")
At some point during Season Two of 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer', it became obvious to the show's producers that they had a spin-off on their hands. Angel, Buffy's boyfriend on the show, was also a fairly complex protagonist in his own right, with a story that could easily become its own series. The idea of a (say it with me now) "vampire with a soul", fighting for his own personal redemption by doing good deeds...it's clever, it's got roots in popular culture ('Forever Knight' and 'Dark Shadows', for example) and it didn't hurt that David Boreanaz has some serious screen presence.
But if there's one thing that the eighty-three columns in this series has taught us, it's that a good protagonist is only the starting point for an ongoing series. Angel needed a setting, a modus operandi, a supporting cast, and some good antagonists...and they needed to give him all that without seriously disrupting the parent series. So what did they have for him? Cordelia, Buffy's sidekick's ex-girlfriend (who serves as comic relief and a damsel in distress, early on), and Whistler, a minor character introduced as Angel's old mentor. Then they found out that they didn't actually have Whistler after all.
As a result, the first season of 'Angel' does feel like a succession of false starts. Doyle is introduced as a Whistler-surrogate, then killed off (possibly due to problems with Glenn Quinn, the actor who portrayed him, although details are murky.) Cordelia then becomes the Doyle-surrogate, and Wesley, who was the Giles-surrogate for a while on 'Buffy', becomes the Cordelia-surrogate. (It's a running trend on both series that they introduce characters to act as the helpless victim who needs rescuing every week...then slowly make them more powerful and competent as they grow progressively fonder of the character, and introduce a new character to take their role of potential victim. So Giles is replaced by Wesley, Willow is replaced by Dawn, Cordelia is replaced by Wesley on 'Angel', and Wesley is, in turn, replaced by Fred. But I'm getting ahead of myself.) About the only thing that really seems to work right off the bat is Angel's nemesis, a law firm with a never-ending supply of evil called 'Wolfram and Hart'. This is a stroke of casual brilliance--by making the enemy a faceless corporation, they can establish individual villains, then dispose of them once they're no longer useful, all without getting rid of the central antagonist.
Other supporting characters show up as Season One progresses, but some find places on the series while others don't. Kate Lockley, a cop who discovers Angel's vampiric nature, never seems to really gel as a romantic interest and fades away, while Gunn, a street-smart vampire hunter, fits in quite well as a competent sidekick. By Season Two (and the arrival of fan-favorite Lorne, a demon with a nightclub and a karaoke obsession), you can see that the pieces are beginning to fall into place. More importantly, by Season Two, the writers seem to understand exactly what they're writing about, and what the concept of "fighting for his own personal redemption" means, and Season Two's storyarc is arguably the series' finest hour. (Well, it's more than an hour, but you know what I mean.)
Season Three seems to continue that trend, with Winnifred "Fred" Burkle added to the cast to replace Wesley as the smart-but-vulnerable one, but then they make a mistake that many a continuing series has made...they introduce a baby. Connor, Angel's son, is an interesting idea...but the problem with it is that creating a truly great storytelling engine is all about finding a point of balance, a setting that can generate ideas for stories without having to change the engine itself. And anyone who's spent any time around a child knows that they grow up at visible speeds. One day they're not walking, the next they are. One day they're cooing and gurgling, the next, it's "Mommy, give me milk!" A child can't be held in any kind of stability, not without making the series unbelievable.
'Angel' tries the time-tested trick all sci-fi/fantasy series pull, sooner or later, when a kid gets involved. Connor goes to a parallel dimension (the details of this handwave change, but the next bit is constant) and comes back all grown up and ready to become a regular supporting character. And that's when everything goes off the rails. Connor proves to be an unpopular addition to the cast, and Charisma Carpenter (the actress playing Cordelia) decides to leave the series to raise her own real-life infant (her pregnancy was worked into the series, but she can't send her child into a parallel dimension and pick him back up when he's seventeen.) Plus, parent series 'Buffy' is coming to a close, and 'Angel' is drawn into the events surrounding that whole mess. (And it doesn't help that many of the series' writers and producers are a bit busy trying to give 'Buffy' the send-off it deserves, and can't spare a lot of attention to 'Angel'.) The engine gets gummed up, and seems to stall completely as Season Four never quite takes off.
For the final season, they completely revamped the status quo, in ways that can best be described as "risky". Angel takes over Wolfram and Hart, trying to redeem it from within. Spike wanders over from the end of 'Buffy', which causes a problem as his character's spent the last three seasons becoming more and more like Angel (to the point where he also has a soul. As Angel put it, "I was doing that before it was cool.") There's a sense, almost from the beginning, that this isn't going to last. Sure enough, Season Five was the last season, and they go out in a blaze of glory, with many of the characters dying, and the survivors confronting the literal armies of Hell in one last, apocalyptic battle for the soul of the human race. The final line of the series..."Let's go to work."
And then they do. Remember the 'Buffy Season Eight' comics? The concept proved so popular that IDW decided to do an Angel Season Six in the medium as well. But unlike Buffy, Angel's finale didn't leave a storytelling engine there to work with, not even a radically altered one. 'Angel' ended with the Apocalypse. It's a little tricky to have a status quo after that, and sure enough, 'Angel: After the Fall' has so far been an exercise in picking up the pieces of the shattered engine and trying to put them together into a recognizable shape. Perhaps, once that's done, they can tell stories with the character again...but some finales are more final than others.
At some point during Season Two of 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer', it became obvious to the show's producers that they had a spin-off on their hands. Angel, Buffy's boyfriend on the show, was also a fairly complex protagonist in his own right, with a story that could easily become its own series. The idea of a (say it with me now) "vampire with a soul", fighting for his own personal redemption by doing good deeds...it's clever, it's got roots in popular culture ('Forever Knight' and 'Dark Shadows', for example) and it didn't hurt that David Boreanaz has some serious screen presence.
But if there's one thing that the eighty-three columns in this series has taught us, it's that a good protagonist is only the starting point for an ongoing series. Angel needed a setting, a modus operandi, a supporting cast, and some good antagonists...and they needed to give him all that without seriously disrupting the parent series. So what did they have for him? Cordelia, Buffy's sidekick's ex-girlfriend (who serves as comic relief and a damsel in distress, early on), and Whistler, a minor character introduced as Angel's old mentor. Then they found out that they didn't actually have Whistler after all.
As a result, the first season of 'Angel' does feel like a succession of false starts. Doyle is introduced as a Whistler-surrogate, then killed off (possibly due to problems with Glenn Quinn, the actor who portrayed him, although details are murky.) Cordelia then becomes the Doyle-surrogate, and Wesley, who was the Giles-surrogate for a while on 'Buffy', becomes the Cordelia-surrogate. (It's a running trend on both series that they introduce characters to act as the helpless victim who needs rescuing every week...then slowly make them more powerful and competent as they grow progressively fonder of the character, and introduce a new character to take their role of potential victim. So Giles is replaced by Wesley, Willow is replaced by Dawn, Cordelia is replaced by Wesley on 'Angel', and Wesley is, in turn, replaced by Fred. But I'm getting ahead of myself.) About the only thing that really seems to work right off the bat is Angel's nemesis, a law firm with a never-ending supply of evil called 'Wolfram and Hart'. This is a stroke of casual brilliance--by making the enemy a faceless corporation, they can establish individual villains, then dispose of them once they're no longer useful, all without getting rid of the central antagonist.
Other supporting characters show up as Season One progresses, but some find places on the series while others don't. Kate Lockley, a cop who discovers Angel's vampiric nature, never seems to really gel as a romantic interest and fades away, while Gunn, a street-smart vampire hunter, fits in quite well as a competent sidekick. By Season Two (and the arrival of fan-favorite Lorne, a demon with a nightclub and a karaoke obsession), you can see that the pieces are beginning to fall into place. More importantly, by Season Two, the writers seem to understand exactly what they're writing about, and what the concept of "fighting for his own personal redemption" means, and Season Two's storyarc is arguably the series' finest hour. (Well, it's more than an hour, but you know what I mean.)
Season Three seems to continue that trend, with Winnifred "Fred" Burkle added to the cast to replace Wesley as the smart-but-vulnerable one, but then they make a mistake that many a continuing series has made...they introduce a baby. Connor, Angel's son, is an interesting idea...but the problem with it is that creating a truly great storytelling engine is all about finding a point of balance, a setting that can generate ideas for stories without having to change the engine itself. And anyone who's spent any time around a child knows that they grow up at visible speeds. One day they're not walking, the next they are. One day they're cooing and gurgling, the next, it's "Mommy, give me milk!" A child can't be held in any kind of stability, not without making the series unbelievable.
'Angel' tries the time-tested trick all sci-fi/fantasy series pull, sooner or later, when a kid gets involved. Connor goes to a parallel dimension (the details of this handwave change, but the next bit is constant) and comes back all grown up and ready to become a regular supporting character. And that's when everything goes off the rails. Connor proves to be an unpopular addition to the cast, and Charisma Carpenter (the actress playing Cordelia) decides to leave the series to raise her own real-life infant (her pregnancy was worked into the series, but she can't send her child into a parallel dimension and pick him back up when he's seventeen.) Plus, parent series 'Buffy' is coming to a close, and 'Angel' is drawn into the events surrounding that whole mess. (And it doesn't help that many of the series' writers and producers are a bit busy trying to give 'Buffy' the send-off it deserves, and can't spare a lot of attention to 'Angel'.) The engine gets gummed up, and seems to stall completely as Season Four never quite takes off.
For the final season, they completely revamped the status quo, in ways that can best be described as "risky". Angel takes over Wolfram and Hart, trying to redeem it from within. Spike wanders over from the end of 'Buffy', which causes a problem as his character's spent the last three seasons becoming more and more like Angel (to the point where he also has a soul. As Angel put it, "I was doing that before it was cool.") There's a sense, almost from the beginning, that this isn't going to last. Sure enough, Season Five was the last season, and they go out in a blaze of glory, with many of the characters dying, and the survivors confronting the literal armies of Hell in one last, apocalyptic battle for the soul of the human race. The final line of the series..."Let's go to work."
And then they do. Remember the 'Buffy Season Eight' comics? The concept proved so popular that IDW decided to do an Angel Season Six in the medium as well. But unlike Buffy, Angel's finale didn't leave a storytelling engine there to work with, not even a radically altered one. 'Angel' ended with the Apocalypse. It's a little tricky to have a status quo after that, and sure enough, 'Angel: After the Fall' has so far been an exercise in picking up the pieces of the shattered engine and trying to put them together into a recognizable shape. Perhaps, once that's done, they can tell stories with the character again...but some finales are more final than others.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Observational Humor, Olympic Edition
Rough transcript of an actual conversation I had with a friend/co-worker last night:
HIM: So have you heard about the big controversy over China's gymnasts yet? They're taking shots at them, saying that they've faked their birth certificates and they're not really sixteen.
ME: No, I've missed most of the Olympics so far. So are they supposed to be secretly younger, or secretly older?
HIM: Younger. The idea is that hitting puberty changes their bodies, and that a lot of gymnasts never recover from that.
ME: Gotcha. So sixteen is the "age of consent" for gymnasts...
HIM: Right.
ME: And they're worried China might be engaging in a little "statutory gymnastics"?
HIM: Yeah--
ME: So do you suppose the gymnastics coaches keep track of the minimum age to enter different competitions, and they're all like, "Oh, sure, for the Olympics it's sixteen, but I hear there's a competition in Canada where she only has to be thirteen..."?
HIM: Uh-huh, yeah--
ME: And they've got up posters of their favorite gymnasts, with little calendars marking off the number of days left until they turn sixteen and they can coach them legally?
HIM: Yes, yes--
ME: And 'Dateline NBC' has this segment where they get people to enter chat rooms, posing as underage gymnasts, and then when the coach goes to their house, they've got cameras and the International Olympic Committee there waiting for them.
HIM: Done now?
ME: Yeah, I don't think I can top that last one.
(Addendum: Tonight, he mentioned that China's now being asked to provide more evidence of the gymnasts' ages. I said China was going to be all like, "No, really, she told me she was eighteen!")
HIM: So have you heard about the big controversy over China's gymnasts yet? They're taking shots at them, saying that they've faked their birth certificates and they're not really sixteen.
ME: No, I've missed most of the Olympics so far. So are they supposed to be secretly younger, or secretly older?
HIM: Younger. The idea is that hitting puberty changes their bodies, and that a lot of gymnasts never recover from that.
ME: Gotcha. So sixteen is the "age of consent" for gymnasts...
HIM: Right.
ME: And they're worried China might be engaging in a little "statutory gymnastics"?
HIM: Yeah--
ME: So do you suppose the gymnastics coaches keep track of the minimum age to enter different competitions, and they're all like, "Oh, sure, for the Olympics it's sixteen, but I hear there's a competition in Canada where she only has to be thirteen..."?
HIM: Uh-huh, yeah--
ME: And they've got up posters of their favorite gymnasts, with little calendars marking off the number of days left until they turn sixteen and they can coach them legally?
HIM: Yes, yes--
ME: And 'Dateline NBC' has this segment where they get people to enter chat rooms, posing as underage gymnasts, and then when the coach goes to their house, they've got cameras and the International Olympic Committee there waiting for them.
HIM: Done now?
ME: Yeah, I don't think I can top that last one.
(Addendum: Tonight, he mentioned that China's now being asked to provide more evidence of the gymnasts' ages. I said China was going to be all like, "No, really, she told me she was eighteen!")
Monday, August 11, 2008
Storytelling Engines: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
(or "Can't Stop The Changes")
So, now that we've discussed Batman, Spider-Man, the X-Men, Superman, the Hulk, the Fantastic Four, Man-Thing, the Flash, the Martian Manhunter, the Legion of Super-Heroes, Captain Marvel (both of them), Thor, Captain America, and Daredevil, let's see what's on TV, shall we?
Of course, 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' isn't on TV anymore, except in reruns. It started out as a movie, then became a TV series (with ancillary books and comics), and now continues on exclusively as a comic book. Why? Why not keep going with the TV show indefinitely? The answer to that question provides a valuable insight into why it is that even the best of TV series don't last as long as a comic or book series. It's all down to the storytelling engine...and those pesky, fickle beasts known as actors.
'Buffy', of course, has one of the all-time great high concept storytelling engines. Sunnydale High is sitting, quite literally, on the mouth of Hell, and all sorts of demons, vampires, and long-leggedy beasties crawl out every week to menace the student body...opposed only by Buffy Summers, who wants to be popular and academically successful, but who has this side job that keeps getting in the way, and her loyal band of friends. Xander and Willow fill the roles of kid sidekicks, providing valuable sources of exposition and convenient sources of peril for Buffy to rescue, and Giles works well both as her mentor, and as a further source of exposition. The series also rounds out with Angel as a love interest/secondary hero, Cordelia as comic relief, and a wide range of good tertiary supporting characters. Heck, it's even got a good rogue's gallery. The Mayor, for example, is an absolutely brilliant villain.
"High school is hell." It's an idea that sells itself. Nobody was ever so popular that the traumas of high school don't have a little hold on their soul, and everyone has some sort of horror story about their teenage years. And all they need to do is ramp that horror story up with a little supernatural horror, and voila! Instant Buffy story, just add vampires.
And if this was where they stayed, it would be a perfect storytelling engine. Indeed, the Buffy comics released by Dark Horse tended to do exactly that. With the exception of a few stories written to fill obvious continuity gaps (how did Giles become Buffy's Watcher, how did the move to Sunnydale go, et cetera), most of the Dark Horse comic series tended to be set during Season Three, the period where the storytelling engine was most stable. Even the proposed animated series was going to be set during the group's high school era. So why didn't they just keep them in high school?
Because actors, unlike pen-and-ink drawings, have an annoying tendency to age. Sarah Michelle Gellar was already playing a character four years younger than her; trying to stretch her high school years out over seven seasons simply wasn't an option. So, three years into the series, Buffy and the gang graduate...and things are never quite the same after that. Which isn't unusual for a series set around a high school environment; high school works because it's universal, but we all go on to do different things after graduation. 'Dawson's Creek' never recovered from having its characters graduate, nor did 'Beverly Hills 90210'...could Buffy break that curse?
It started, in Season Four, by setting up the new storytelling engine for the series. Most of the cast went to the local college...with the exception of Cordelia and Angel, who got their own spin-off series and left big "Cordy and Angel" shaped holes in the storytelling engine. Cordy's role was filled by snarky ex-demon Anya, while Angel's part was filled by an amiable lug by the name of Riley Finn, who also happened to be a part of the secret military conspiracy on campus. The series quickly reshaped itself as a college drama with monsters, instead of a high school drama with monsters...
And then, in Season Five, abruptly dropped the concept. Over the next two seasons, they set up a new storytelling engine revolving around Buffy as caretaker of her family as her mother sickened and died and the writers introduced a new little sister (Magic. Don't ask.) Riley was ditched in favor of promoting Spike, a series villain-turned-reluctant-hero, as a new love interest (and gradually sanding off Spike's edges until he fit into that Angel-shaped hole), the supporting cast changed (Oz, Giles, and Oz-replacement Tara all left during this period), and suddenly the show was a bleak, depressing coming-of-age drama with monsters. The writers seemed to have difficulty coping with the changes to cast, the need to devote time and energy to the 'Angel' spin-off, and fundamentally, with the lack of the high school setting that was the key to the whole series concept.
So in Season Seven, it was back to the high school! Which you'd think would be tricky, since everyone graduated four years ago and the whole thing was blown up, but Buffy returns this time not as a rebellious kid, but as a guidance counselor for wayward teens. This new concept inverts the original paradigm; instead of being about how nobody understands teenagers, it's a show about how adults understand teenagers all too well, having been teenagers themselves. But by this time, Gellar wasn't interested in doing a Season Eight, and so the series finale blew up not just the rebuilt high school but the entire town, while turning hundreds of women into new Slayers.
Which is where the comic picks up. The original concept, "high school is hell", has been left completely behind for Buffy Summers as the leader of a strike team of superhuman women, dedicated to traveling the globe and wiping out supernatural evil wherever it may hide. It's a good storytelling engine, but it does lack some of the universal charm of the original series...but by this point, there's really no going back. That's the thing about changing a storytelling engine. It can be awfully hard to change back if you make a mistake. The only thing you can really do is keep moving forward, and hope you eventually find a new destination as attractive as the place you left behind.
So, now that we've discussed Batman, Spider-Man, the X-Men, Superman, the Hulk, the Fantastic Four, Man-Thing, the Flash, the Martian Manhunter, the Legion of Super-Heroes, Captain Marvel (both of them), Thor, Captain America, and Daredevil, let's see what's on TV, shall we?
Of course, 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' isn't on TV anymore, except in reruns. It started out as a movie, then became a TV series (with ancillary books and comics), and now continues on exclusively as a comic book. Why? Why not keep going with the TV show indefinitely? The answer to that question provides a valuable insight into why it is that even the best of TV series don't last as long as a comic or book series. It's all down to the storytelling engine...and those pesky, fickle beasts known as actors.
'Buffy', of course, has one of the all-time great high concept storytelling engines. Sunnydale High is sitting, quite literally, on the mouth of Hell, and all sorts of demons, vampires, and long-leggedy beasties crawl out every week to menace the student body...opposed only by Buffy Summers, who wants to be popular and academically successful, but who has this side job that keeps getting in the way, and her loyal band of friends. Xander and Willow fill the roles of kid sidekicks, providing valuable sources of exposition and convenient sources of peril for Buffy to rescue, and Giles works well both as her mentor, and as a further source of exposition. The series also rounds out with Angel as a love interest/secondary hero, Cordelia as comic relief, and a wide range of good tertiary supporting characters. Heck, it's even got a good rogue's gallery. The Mayor, for example, is an absolutely brilliant villain.
"High school is hell." It's an idea that sells itself. Nobody was ever so popular that the traumas of high school don't have a little hold on their soul, and everyone has some sort of horror story about their teenage years. And all they need to do is ramp that horror story up with a little supernatural horror, and voila! Instant Buffy story, just add vampires.
And if this was where they stayed, it would be a perfect storytelling engine. Indeed, the Buffy comics released by Dark Horse tended to do exactly that. With the exception of a few stories written to fill obvious continuity gaps (how did Giles become Buffy's Watcher, how did the move to Sunnydale go, et cetera), most of the Dark Horse comic series tended to be set during Season Three, the period where the storytelling engine was most stable. Even the proposed animated series was going to be set during the group's high school era. So why didn't they just keep them in high school?
Because actors, unlike pen-and-ink drawings, have an annoying tendency to age. Sarah Michelle Gellar was already playing a character four years younger than her; trying to stretch her high school years out over seven seasons simply wasn't an option. So, three years into the series, Buffy and the gang graduate...and things are never quite the same after that. Which isn't unusual for a series set around a high school environment; high school works because it's universal, but we all go on to do different things after graduation. 'Dawson's Creek' never recovered from having its characters graduate, nor did 'Beverly Hills 90210'...could Buffy break that curse?
It started, in Season Four, by setting up the new storytelling engine for the series. Most of the cast went to the local college...with the exception of Cordelia and Angel, who got their own spin-off series and left big "Cordy and Angel" shaped holes in the storytelling engine. Cordy's role was filled by snarky ex-demon Anya, while Angel's part was filled by an amiable lug by the name of Riley Finn, who also happened to be a part of the secret military conspiracy on campus. The series quickly reshaped itself as a college drama with monsters, instead of a high school drama with monsters...
And then, in Season Five, abruptly dropped the concept. Over the next two seasons, they set up a new storytelling engine revolving around Buffy as caretaker of her family as her mother sickened and died and the writers introduced a new little sister (Magic. Don't ask.) Riley was ditched in favor of promoting Spike, a series villain-turned-reluctant-hero, as a new love interest (and gradually sanding off Spike's edges until he fit into that Angel-shaped hole), the supporting cast changed (Oz, Giles, and Oz-replacement Tara all left during this period), and suddenly the show was a bleak, depressing coming-of-age drama with monsters. The writers seemed to have difficulty coping with the changes to cast, the need to devote time and energy to the 'Angel' spin-off, and fundamentally, with the lack of the high school setting that was the key to the whole series concept.
So in Season Seven, it was back to the high school! Which you'd think would be tricky, since everyone graduated four years ago and the whole thing was blown up, but Buffy returns this time not as a rebellious kid, but as a guidance counselor for wayward teens. This new concept inverts the original paradigm; instead of being about how nobody understands teenagers, it's a show about how adults understand teenagers all too well, having been teenagers themselves. But by this time, Gellar wasn't interested in doing a Season Eight, and so the series finale blew up not just the rebuilt high school but the entire town, while turning hundreds of women into new Slayers.
Which is where the comic picks up. The original concept, "high school is hell", has been left completely behind for Buffy Summers as the leader of a strike team of superhuman women, dedicated to traveling the globe and wiping out supernatural evil wherever it may hide. It's a good storytelling engine, but it does lack some of the universal charm of the original series...but by this point, there's really no going back. That's the thing about changing a storytelling engine. It can be awfully hard to change back if you make a mistake. The only thing you can really do is keep moving forward, and hope you eventually find a new destination as attractive as the place you left behind.
Saturday, August 09, 2008
Review: Cabin Fever
Someday, I hope to find myself in Hollywood. (Perhaps just visiting, the way my career's going as a writer...) But when I'm there, I hope to meet Eli Roth and shake his hand. I'll ask him, "You're Eli Roth, aren't you? The writer and director of 'Cabin Fever'?" And he'll say that yes, yes he is. And then I'll punch him in the stomach as hard as I can, and as he collapses to the ground, whimpering and clutching at his stomach, I'll say, "There. Now we're even." Then I'll kick him square in the testicles, and say, "Actually, we're not, but I don't have the stamina to keep doing this for 92 more minutes."
'Cabin Fever' is a horror movie that has the fundamental flaw of not having enough to do to justify its running time. It's very clearly a movie that was built around a couple of ideas Roth had for "really cool gory bits, like this chick is shaving her legs and the skin starts coming right off", but since each of those bits is about a minute or two long, and he doesn't have more than three or four of them, he must have realized at some point that his potential movie was about eighty minutes short of the running time of a theatrical release motion picture.
Roth solved this dilemma through a technique I like to call "pointless, rambling bullshit," in which the director films unlikeable characters saying random things and walking around deserted locations, while playing "spooky" music in the background and hoping that you'll be fooled into believing something might be happening. If you're not, those eighty minutes are excruciating torment. (Hint: I wasn't.)
And by the way, when I say "unlikeable"...wow. I'll give Roth some credit, I actually think that the lead characters were intended to be unsympathetic. I think it was a bold tack, making a horror movie in which you actually root for the death sequences, inverting the usual horror paradigm so that instead of hoping a particular character survives to the end, you'll be hoping a particular character dies a well-deserved horrible death. The problem is, he does his job too well. I found myself wanting to fast-forward the movie through to the point where everyone was dead, and I don't just mean the characters.
I'll give it some points: The special effects are excellent, Roth the director does his best to take the weak, watery gruel that Roth the writer has given him and play it out for suspense, but fundamentally, it's the bloated corpse of a 20-minute short film, made by someone who decided that 20-minute short films don't make very much money. If you're a film editor who wants to practice his/her technique by slicing out all the padding, go ahead and watch. Otherwise, avoid avoid avoid.
'Cabin Fever' is a horror movie that has the fundamental flaw of not having enough to do to justify its running time. It's very clearly a movie that was built around a couple of ideas Roth had for "really cool gory bits, like this chick is shaving her legs and the skin starts coming right off", but since each of those bits is about a minute or two long, and he doesn't have more than three or four of them, he must have realized at some point that his potential movie was about eighty minutes short of the running time of a theatrical release motion picture.
Roth solved this dilemma through a technique I like to call "pointless, rambling bullshit," in which the director films unlikeable characters saying random things and walking around deserted locations, while playing "spooky" music in the background and hoping that you'll be fooled into believing something might be happening. If you're not, those eighty minutes are excruciating torment. (Hint: I wasn't.)
And by the way, when I say "unlikeable"...wow. I'll give Roth some credit, I actually think that the lead characters were intended to be unsympathetic. I think it was a bold tack, making a horror movie in which you actually root for the death sequences, inverting the usual horror paradigm so that instead of hoping a particular character survives to the end, you'll be hoping a particular character dies a well-deserved horrible death. The problem is, he does his job too well. I found myself wanting to fast-forward the movie through to the point where everyone was dead, and I don't just mean the characters.
I'll give it some points: The special effects are excellent, Roth the director does his best to take the weak, watery gruel that Roth the writer has given him and play it out for suspense, but fundamentally, it's the bloated corpse of a 20-minute short film, made by someone who decided that 20-minute short films don't make very much money. If you're a film editor who wants to practice his/her technique by slicing out all the padding, go ahead and watch. Otherwise, avoid avoid avoid.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
The "50 Things I Love About Comics" Meme
Saw this post up at Brad Bird's website, and I liked the thought of it, so without further ado, and in no particular order...
1) Reading 'V for Vendetta' at midnight on December 31st, 1999.
2) Ralph and Sue Dibny solving mysteries as a couple.
3) Carl Barks.
4) The Silver Age story where Superman gets in trouble with the IRS for never having paid taxes.
5) "Stupid stupid rat creatures!"
6) Spider-Man's black costume.
7) Calvin and Hobbes.
8) Flash #50, in its entirety. "You've lost the advantage of surprise!" "I've replaced it with something better. Fear."
9) Stan Lee.
10) Spider Jerusalem.
11) Ego the Living Planet hitting on Earth.
12) Steve Ditko.
13) "In loudest din, in hush profound, my ears catch evil's slightest sound..."
14) The fact that some of the people reading this just finished that variation of the Green Lantern oath.
15) The Far Side.
16) Captain America back in the 1960s, when he used to trash-talk his opponents. "My grandmother could see that punch coming!"
17) The Essentials and Showcase Presents programs from Marvel and DC, respectively, for allowing me to read just about every single classic story they ever produced.
18) Jack Kirby, for drawing and co-writing just about every single classic story Marvel and DC ever produced.
19) Watchmen.
20) "I owe you pissant white trash sons of bitches all the hurt in the motherfucking world. So who wants to get his ass kicked first?"
21) All of Stan Lee's goofy nicknames for the writers and artists. Stan "The Man" Lee, "Gentleman" Gene Colan, Jack "The King" Kirby, "Dandy" Don Heck...
22) "I can think of fourteen different ways to keep you from firing that gun. Six are painful."
23) The ending of 'DC One Million'.
24) "I'm Reed Richards of the Fantastic Four. And these are my toasters."
25) Crisis on Infinite Earths.
26) 'The Anatomy Lesson'.
27) Ben Grimm, the ever-lovin' blue-eyed idol o' millions.
28) Bullpen Bulletins.
29) The Guardians of the Galaxy.
30) The story where Superman introduced Supergirl to the world.
31) Peter Parker in prison (in Web of Spider-Man #18), getting rid of a group of prison toughs by squeezing one of the struts of his bunk hard enough to leave fingerprints.
32) The Heckler.
33) Kurt Busiek's run on Thunderbolts, which single-handedly kept me from quitting comics one day.
34) Don Rosa.
35) Fred Hembeck.
36) Astro City, which has never had even a single bad issue.
37) MAD Magazine. (I could probably do a sub-listing of "50 Things I Love About MAD Magazine".)
38) The final issue of Marvel's 'Godzilla' comic, which featured the FF and the Avengers fighting Godzilla in New York City.
39) The Hobgoblin's true identity. Roger Stern is one of the quiet geniuses of comics today.
40) Spider-Man.
41) The final panel of Uncanny X-Men #132.
42) The first meeting of Power Man and Iron Fist, illustrated so wonderfully by John Byrne. "Mr. Cage...turn around."
43) Barry Ween.
44) Thor and Hulk's dialog back before Marvel writers got self-conscious about writing their dialog. "Hulk SMASH!"
45) MODOK.
46) Marv Wolfman and Gene Colan's run on 'Tomb of Dracula'.
47) The letter columns that were answered "in character" by different X-Men.
48) "Oh, my stars and garters..."
49) The Absolute Edition of the Sandman.
50) Writing a letter about an imaginary issue of an imaginary comic called 'The Tomorrow Syndicate', only to have it published in 1963 #6 and answered by Alan Moore with specific details about the characters I made up and the story I pretended existed.
1) Reading 'V for Vendetta' at midnight on December 31st, 1999.
2) Ralph and Sue Dibny solving mysteries as a couple.
3) Carl Barks.
4) The Silver Age story where Superman gets in trouble with the IRS for never having paid taxes.
5) "Stupid stupid rat creatures!"
6) Spider-Man's black costume.
7) Calvin and Hobbes.
8) Flash #50, in its entirety. "You've lost the advantage of surprise!" "I've replaced it with something better. Fear."
9) Stan Lee.
10) Spider Jerusalem.
11) Ego the Living Planet hitting on Earth.
12) Steve Ditko.
13) "In loudest din, in hush profound, my ears catch evil's slightest sound..."
14) The fact that some of the people reading this just finished that variation of the Green Lantern oath.
15) The Far Side.
16) Captain America back in the 1960s, when he used to trash-talk his opponents. "My grandmother could see that punch coming!"
17) The Essentials and Showcase Presents programs from Marvel and DC, respectively, for allowing me to read just about every single classic story they ever produced.
18) Jack Kirby, for drawing and co-writing just about every single classic story Marvel and DC ever produced.
19) Watchmen.
20) "I owe you pissant white trash sons of bitches all the hurt in the motherfucking world. So who wants to get his ass kicked first?"
21) All of Stan Lee's goofy nicknames for the writers and artists. Stan "The Man" Lee, "Gentleman" Gene Colan, Jack "The King" Kirby, "Dandy" Don Heck...
22) "I can think of fourteen different ways to keep you from firing that gun. Six are painful."
23) The ending of 'DC One Million'.
24) "I'm Reed Richards of the Fantastic Four. And these are my toasters."
25) Crisis on Infinite Earths.
26) 'The Anatomy Lesson'.
27) Ben Grimm, the ever-lovin' blue-eyed idol o' millions.
28) Bullpen Bulletins.
29) The Guardians of the Galaxy.
30) The story where Superman introduced Supergirl to the world.
31) Peter Parker in prison (in Web of Spider-Man #18), getting rid of a group of prison toughs by squeezing one of the struts of his bunk hard enough to leave fingerprints.
32) The Heckler.
33) Kurt Busiek's run on Thunderbolts, which single-handedly kept me from quitting comics one day.
34) Don Rosa.
35) Fred Hembeck.
36) Astro City, which has never had even a single bad issue.
37) MAD Magazine. (I could probably do a sub-listing of "50 Things I Love About MAD Magazine".)
38) The final issue of Marvel's 'Godzilla' comic, which featured the FF and the Avengers fighting Godzilla in New York City.
39) The Hobgoblin's true identity. Roger Stern is one of the quiet geniuses of comics today.
40) Spider-Man.
41) The final panel of Uncanny X-Men #132.
42) The first meeting of Power Man and Iron Fist, illustrated so wonderfully by John Byrne. "Mr. Cage...turn around."
43) Barry Ween.
44) Thor and Hulk's dialog back before Marvel writers got self-conscious about writing their dialog. "Hulk SMASH!"
45) MODOK.
46) Marv Wolfman and Gene Colan's run on 'Tomb of Dracula'.
47) The letter columns that were answered "in character" by different X-Men.
48) "Oh, my stars and garters..."
49) The Absolute Edition of the Sandman.
50) Writing a letter about an imaginary issue of an imaginary comic called 'The Tomorrow Syndicate', only to have it published in 1963 #6 and answered by Alan Moore with specific details about the characters I made up and the story I pretended existed.
Monday, August 04, 2008
Under the Hood: Star Wars, Episode Six
Sorry for the delay, the reasons behind it were a little...complex.
(Well, strictly speaking they were a combination of laziness and absent-mindedness, but working out the exact formula of how the two mixed together is quite, quite complex.)
So when we last left our alternate version of the Star Wars sextet, we'd left it pretty much like the classics you remember, with just a minor difference. Luke already has confirmed with Yoda that Vader is his father, but on the whole, Han is still frozen in carbonite, stolen by Jabba the Hutt, and headed for Tatooine, while Luke recuperates from impromptu surgery at the hands of his own father. We open with Luke getting ready to return to action and join Lando and Chewie in the hunt for Han, when he and Leia receive news from the Rebel leader of a major offensive--in fact, it might just be the end of the Empire. The secret clone factories of the Emperor have finally been located.
(This, by the way, is the reason for the emphasis on the "undisclosed" location of the final battle against the clonemasters of Mandalor in Episode Three. Despite the fact that I have a certain fondness for the Emperor's plan in 'Return'--"My ultimate weapon has been destroyed, due to a tiny, fatal flaw that I overlooked when creating it! You know what? Rather than just abandon that plan, I'm going to do it all over again, only this time without the fatal flaw..." I would, in fact, go with something different. And let's face it, the stormtroopers really are the big advantage the Empire has over the Rebels. Seemingly endless numbers of troops indoctrinated to be loyal unto death to the Emperor? Yeah, that's something you want to take out.)
The ground defenses of the factories are formidable, simply due to the sheer number of troops the Empire is cranking out--but the space defenses are light, since the stormtroopers are ground-pounders and the Emperor doesn't want to station a ton of troops there (due to the need for secrecy.) He instead relies on a deflection shield generated from a nearby forest moon. A sufficiently concentrated Rebel assault could smash the clone factories, and with the Mandalorians exterminated years ago, it's anyone's guess whether he could even repair them. Either way, it would be a major blow to the Empire if the Rebels could succeed. Best of all, the Emperor frequently journeys to the cloneworld, since it's the most secure location in the galaxy apart from the Imperial Palace.
But Luke and Leia want to rescue their friend. Mon Mothma, in a touching scene, lets them go--after all, one ship more or less won't mean much at the battle, but it will make all the difference in saving Han Solo. They head off to Tatooine to rescue Han.
When they get there, they find that Jabba's palace is surprisingly lightly defended--he has his Gamorrean guards, and Boba Fett, but his hordes of mercenaries and bounty hunters have been all hired away. Even so, a good deal of strategy and subterfuge is needed to get into the palace (ie, most of the opening sequence of 'Jedi' would be cannibalized here, leading up to the Sarlacc sequence.) The key difference? Leia finds out, as Jabba's concubine, exactly where those mercenaries have gone--the Emperor has hired every gun he can find, creating a secret army whose movements won't show up when Rebel spies analyze Imperial troop movements. This secret army is lying in wait to ambush the Rebels--it's all part of a trap, you see, to crush the Rebel Alliance once and for all...
At that point, Luke springs his trap, capturing the skiff and duking it out with Jabba's guards. He and Boba Fett battle--the last of the Jedi against the last of the Mandalorians, a brutal coda to the Clone Wars, but Boba's lost a step over the years. In the end, he's just a little too slow to face a Jedi in his prime, and Luke dispatches him to the Sarlacc. (Note the lack of blind guys with sticks in this battle.) They destroy Jabba, rescue Han, and now are faced with the fact that they're the only ones who know the Rebels are heading into a trap...
Contacting the fleet at this point would be difficult at best--they've maneuvered into a secure position, and can only be contacted with a pinpoint-burst coded transmitter. Flying there would give them away, and the only people who have the proper coded transmitter are the commando team on the forest moon whose job it is to take out the shield generator...and needless to say, the Empire won't just let them through that shield to talk to their buddies on Endor, Han points out. Luke, though, has a plan.
A few hours later, the Millennium Falcon arrives at the forest moon of Endor. While the others hide in the smuggling compartments, Luke contacts the garrison on the forest moon. "This is Luke Skywalker," he says, "son of Darth Vader. I have come alone to speak with my father and the Emperor." Within moments, the shield dissolves and the ship is allowed to land.
From there, the two groups split up. Luke goes to the cloneworld, to meet with the Emperor. The others sneak out of the ship into the forest, to try to find the commando group. Instead, they run headlong into a group of cute, furry little aliens (I love the Ewoks. I'd make a slight redesign to them, so that they look more sinuous and otter-like, and less teddy-bear-esque, but the whole "cute" factor would remain...because that was what was so awesome about the Ewoks, that they looked cute and fuzzy and adorably sweet and nice and friendly...and then they turned out to be this vicious, savage, cannibalistic race of guerilla warriors who fearlessly charged stormtrooper detachments and beat them to death with heavy rocks. And then ate the corpses, probably.)
The cute aliens only look cute until they smile, revealing a mouth of needle-sharp teeth, and they quickly surround Han, Chewie, Leia, Lando, R2, and 3P0. They've made necklaces and decorations out of the remains of the commando group, and it looks pretty clear that they plan to do the same with Han and company...until C-3P0 begins to talk to them. He explains their story, the plight of the Empire and the Rebellion, describing the entire situation to the chief of the tribe, and swaying the Ewoks to their cause. (Yes, it's Threepio for the win, here.) The Ewoks agree to help. Han, of course, is a little skeptical of just how much help a few cute fuzzballs can be against a whole garrison of stormtroopers...until he sees the hordes and hordes of silent, vicious Ewok warriors, their siege engines, their cunningly designed traps, and their collection of empty stormtrooper helmets (not even stormtroopers venture into the forest at night on Endor.)
As Luke prepares to face the Emperor, he is met by Yoda and Ben. Or rather, their blue ghost bodies. Yoda has died. Luke is truly the last of the Jedi...but yet, there is another hope. Yoda never told Luke, but he has a sister. If he fails, she will be the last hope of the Jedi Knights. But only by letting go of his attachment to his father and destroying Vader can Luke survive this final trial. Luke refuses. Surely, the three of them together can redeem Vader? Yoda shakes his head sadly. They cannot go into the presence of the Emperor, lest he destroy them. Luke will truly be all alone.
And here we go. Luke battles Vader, with the Emperor and thousands of stormtroopers looking on. Han and the gang attack the shield generator, with an Ewok army backing them up. The Rebel Alliance, led by Wedge, fight an army of bounty hunters, mercenaries, and the scum of the galaxy. The shields come down, the factories get bombed, Luke redeems Vader, who dies stopping the Emperor as the bombs begin to rain down upon them. Luke barely escapes the carnage, the Rebels send the bounty hunters packing, everyone returns for a celebration on Endor where Luke lets Leia know that they're family, which neatly skirts the issue of who she's going to start dating. And with the Emperor lost and the clone factories destroyed, the Empire seems to be finally on the run.
(Until the endless parade of tie-in novels, that is...)
(Well, strictly speaking they were a combination of laziness and absent-mindedness, but working out the exact formula of how the two mixed together is quite, quite complex.)
So when we last left our alternate version of the Star Wars sextet, we'd left it pretty much like the classics you remember, with just a minor difference. Luke already has confirmed with Yoda that Vader is his father, but on the whole, Han is still frozen in carbonite, stolen by Jabba the Hutt, and headed for Tatooine, while Luke recuperates from impromptu surgery at the hands of his own father. We open with Luke getting ready to return to action and join Lando and Chewie in the hunt for Han, when he and Leia receive news from the Rebel leader of a major offensive--in fact, it might just be the end of the Empire. The secret clone factories of the Emperor have finally been located.
(This, by the way, is the reason for the emphasis on the "undisclosed" location of the final battle against the clonemasters of Mandalor in Episode Three. Despite the fact that I have a certain fondness for the Emperor's plan in 'Return'--"My ultimate weapon has been destroyed, due to a tiny, fatal flaw that I overlooked when creating it! You know what? Rather than just abandon that plan, I'm going to do it all over again, only this time without the fatal flaw..." I would, in fact, go with something different. And let's face it, the stormtroopers really are the big advantage the Empire has over the Rebels. Seemingly endless numbers of troops indoctrinated to be loyal unto death to the Emperor? Yeah, that's something you want to take out.)
The ground defenses of the factories are formidable, simply due to the sheer number of troops the Empire is cranking out--but the space defenses are light, since the stormtroopers are ground-pounders and the Emperor doesn't want to station a ton of troops there (due to the need for secrecy.) He instead relies on a deflection shield generated from a nearby forest moon. A sufficiently concentrated Rebel assault could smash the clone factories, and with the Mandalorians exterminated years ago, it's anyone's guess whether he could even repair them. Either way, it would be a major blow to the Empire if the Rebels could succeed. Best of all, the Emperor frequently journeys to the cloneworld, since it's the most secure location in the galaxy apart from the Imperial Palace.
But Luke and Leia want to rescue their friend. Mon Mothma, in a touching scene, lets them go--after all, one ship more or less won't mean much at the battle, but it will make all the difference in saving Han Solo. They head off to Tatooine to rescue Han.
When they get there, they find that Jabba's palace is surprisingly lightly defended--he has his Gamorrean guards, and Boba Fett, but his hordes of mercenaries and bounty hunters have been all hired away. Even so, a good deal of strategy and subterfuge is needed to get into the palace (ie, most of the opening sequence of 'Jedi' would be cannibalized here, leading up to the Sarlacc sequence.) The key difference? Leia finds out, as Jabba's concubine, exactly where those mercenaries have gone--the Emperor has hired every gun he can find, creating a secret army whose movements won't show up when Rebel spies analyze Imperial troop movements. This secret army is lying in wait to ambush the Rebels--it's all part of a trap, you see, to crush the Rebel Alliance once and for all...
At that point, Luke springs his trap, capturing the skiff and duking it out with Jabba's guards. He and Boba Fett battle--the last of the Jedi against the last of the Mandalorians, a brutal coda to the Clone Wars, but Boba's lost a step over the years. In the end, he's just a little too slow to face a Jedi in his prime, and Luke dispatches him to the Sarlacc. (Note the lack of blind guys with sticks in this battle.) They destroy Jabba, rescue Han, and now are faced with the fact that they're the only ones who know the Rebels are heading into a trap...
Contacting the fleet at this point would be difficult at best--they've maneuvered into a secure position, and can only be contacted with a pinpoint-burst coded transmitter. Flying there would give them away, and the only people who have the proper coded transmitter are the commando team on the forest moon whose job it is to take out the shield generator...and needless to say, the Empire won't just let them through that shield to talk to their buddies on Endor, Han points out. Luke, though, has a plan.
A few hours later, the Millennium Falcon arrives at the forest moon of Endor. While the others hide in the smuggling compartments, Luke contacts the garrison on the forest moon. "This is Luke Skywalker," he says, "son of Darth Vader. I have come alone to speak with my father and the Emperor." Within moments, the shield dissolves and the ship is allowed to land.
From there, the two groups split up. Luke goes to the cloneworld, to meet with the Emperor. The others sneak out of the ship into the forest, to try to find the commando group. Instead, they run headlong into a group of cute, furry little aliens (I love the Ewoks. I'd make a slight redesign to them, so that they look more sinuous and otter-like, and less teddy-bear-esque, but the whole "cute" factor would remain...because that was what was so awesome about the Ewoks, that they looked cute and fuzzy and adorably sweet and nice and friendly...and then they turned out to be this vicious, savage, cannibalistic race of guerilla warriors who fearlessly charged stormtrooper detachments and beat them to death with heavy rocks. And then ate the corpses, probably.)
The cute aliens only look cute until they smile, revealing a mouth of needle-sharp teeth, and they quickly surround Han, Chewie, Leia, Lando, R2, and 3P0. They've made necklaces and decorations out of the remains of the commando group, and it looks pretty clear that they plan to do the same with Han and company...until C-3P0 begins to talk to them. He explains their story, the plight of the Empire and the Rebellion, describing the entire situation to the chief of the tribe, and swaying the Ewoks to their cause. (Yes, it's Threepio for the win, here.) The Ewoks agree to help. Han, of course, is a little skeptical of just how much help a few cute fuzzballs can be against a whole garrison of stormtroopers...until he sees the hordes and hordes of silent, vicious Ewok warriors, their siege engines, their cunningly designed traps, and their collection of empty stormtrooper helmets (not even stormtroopers venture into the forest at night on Endor.)
As Luke prepares to face the Emperor, he is met by Yoda and Ben. Or rather, their blue ghost bodies. Yoda has died. Luke is truly the last of the Jedi...but yet, there is another hope. Yoda never told Luke, but he has a sister. If he fails, she will be the last hope of the Jedi Knights. But only by letting go of his attachment to his father and destroying Vader can Luke survive this final trial. Luke refuses. Surely, the three of them together can redeem Vader? Yoda shakes his head sadly. They cannot go into the presence of the Emperor, lest he destroy them. Luke will truly be all alone.
And here we go. Luke battles Vader, with the Emperor and thousands of stormtroopers looking on. Han and the gang attack the shield generator, with an Ewok army backing them up. The Rebel Alliance, led by Wedge, fight an army of bounty hunters, mercenaries, and the scum of the galaxy. The shields come down, the factories get bombed, Luke redeems Vader, who dies stopping the Emperor as the bombs begin to rain down upon them. Luke barely escapes the carnage, the Rebels send the bounty hunters packing, everyone returns for a celebration on Endor where Luke lets Leia know that they're family, which neatly skirts the issue of who she's going to start dating. And with the Emperor lost and the clone factories destroyed, the Empire seems to be finally on the run.
(Until the endless parade of tie-in novels, that is...)
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Under the Hood: Star Wars, Episode Five
This one actually changed in my head as I was planning to write it down, to be honest (he says as he continues his tale of how to rework the scripts of the six Star Wars films into a more consistent epic.) Originally, it was going to be a case of, "Don't change a thing," like Episode Four, but there's something that's nagged me about this movie ever since I saw the prequels, and that's Yoda. Because the whole point of the series is that Yoda is wrong. His philosophy is ultimately sterile, with no room for love or redemption. He's not the Wise Old Mentor, he's stern and unbending and ultimately, Luke proves him wrong by redeeming Anakin with the same love that Yoda insists is selfish and destructive. And that doesn't come across as well as it could, because Yoda's so awesome and well-done as the Wise Old Mentor that we just naturally want to believe him. (Look at all the Expanded Universe material. Everything from the RPG to the post-Star Wars novels uses Yoda's portrayal of a Manichean struggle between the Light and Dark Sides, not Luke's ability to love and fear and hate and grieve. Luke is balanced, that's what the prophecy that Lucas never really explained very well is all about.)
So the change that brings all that into sharp relief? When Vader lands his ship on Hoth, Luke is still there, moving from his snowspeeder to his X-Wing. The hangar is blocked off by an ice fall, and while he's using the Force to clear it, he tells Luke, "Obi-Wan never told you what happened to your father, did he?"
Changes the film a bit, doesn't it? Suddenly, Luke isn't just a passive student accepting Yoda's philosphy, he's wondering why his father can't be saved. He isn't just blindly refusing to listen when Yoda tells him to abandon his friends, he's telling Yoda that the empty, sterile philosophy of placing a higher value on causes than on people is as wrong as Vader's desire for total control. His fight with Vader takes on a whole new dimension, as he tries to find a spark of good in his father while defending himself and instead ends up injured, weakened, clinging to the edge of the abyss in Bespin as Vader tells him that his only options are to give into his rage and fight, join Vader as his new apprentice, or be destroyed. And instead of simply falling, Luke's last gesture takes on a whole different meaning as he chooses to fall, rather than fight his father.
It does ruin the cliffhanger, of course, but by this point, anyone who's watched the films 1-6 knows that Vader is Luke's father anyway. (Just witness the torturous reworking of the scene between Vader and the Emperor in the DVD edition of the film, where Vader and the Emperor both try to avoid saying what they both know: "Oh, by the way, Luke's your kid!") Might as well let that bit go and try for the extra tension in the Dagobah scenes.
So the change that brings all that into sharp relief? When Vader lands his ship on Hoth, Luke is still there, moving from his snowspeeder to his X-Wing. The hangar is blocked off by an ice fall, and while he's using the Force to clear it, he tells Luke, "Obi-Wan never told you what happened to your father, did he?"
Changes the film a bit, doesn't it? Suddenly, Luke isn't just a passive student accepting Yoda's philosphy, he's wondering why his father can't be saved. He isn't just blindly refusing to listen when Yoda tells him to abandon his friends, he's telling Yoda that the empty, sterile philosophy of placing a higher value on causes than on people is as wrong as Vader's desire for total control. His fight with Vader takes on a whole new dimension, as he tries to find a spark of good in his father while defending himself and instead ends up injured, weakened, clinging to the edge of the abyss in Bespin as Vader tells him that his only options are to give into his rage and fight, join Vader as his new apprentice, or be destroyed. And instead of simply falling, Luke's last gesture takes on a whole different meaning as he chooses to fall, rather than fight his father.
It does ruin the cliffhanger, of course, but by this point, anyone who's watched the films 1-6 knows that Vader is Luke's father anyway. (Just witness the torturous reworking of the scene between Vader and the Emperor in the DVD edition of the film, where Vader and the Emperor both try to avoid saying what they both know: "Oh, by the way, Luke's your kid!") Might as well let that bit go and try for the extra tension in the Dagobah scenes.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Under the Hood: Star Wars, Episode Four
Alright, maybe it's my inner child speaking, but the movie is nearly perfect as is. The only things I'd change, script-wise, in all of 'Star Wars: A New Hope', involve Greedo and Obi-Wan.
No, no, not the "Han shot first" thing. That's a given. But that scene could stand to make it clearer that Greedo is acting on a private grudge and exceeding the orders Jabba gave him, and that Jabba's still got some mercy left in him. Otherwise Han has no motive to flee the Battle of Yavin--why would he go back to Jabba if he's been explicitly told, "It's too late [to give him the money]." Plus, it makes the scene with Jabba less redundant--if you leave that scene out, Han should just stay the hell away. If you leave it in with both scenes as scripted, you're being told twice in ten minutes that Jabba's pissed, and that Han needs to get back in his good books. The Greedo scene is all about Han's willingness to play dirty if he has to in order to win the fight, nothing more. (Which is why it's even dumber to make Greedo shoot first.)
The other thing I'd change? The fight scene between Obi-Wan and Darth Vader now looks radically out of place next to the elaborate, choreographed sequences of the other movies. Every other film, Jedi are hyper-acrobatic wuxia masters who dazzle us with epic fight sequences...in Episode Four, it's two guys anemically clashing sabers together. Sure, they're both well past their prime, but...it could use work.
Other than that, every frame is perfect.
No, no, not the "Han shot first" thing. That's a given. But that scene could stand to make it clearer that Greedo is acting on a private grudge and exceeding the orders Jabba gave him, and that Jabba's still got some mercy left in him. Otherwise Han has no motive to flee the Battle of Yavin--why would he go back to Jabba if he's been explicitly told, "It's too late [to give him the money]." Plus, it makes the scene with Jabba less redundant--if you leave that scene out, Han should just stay the hell away. If you leave it in with both scenes as scripted, you're being told twice in ten minutes that Jabba's pissed, and that Han needs to get back in his good books. The Greedo scene is all about Han's willingness to play dirty if he has to in order to win the fight, nothing more. (Which is why it's even dumber to make Greedo shoot first.)
The other thing I'd change? The fight scene between Obi-Wan and Darth Vader now looks radically out of place next to the elaborate, choreographed sequences of the other movies. Every other film, Jedi are hyper-acrobatic wuxia masters who dazzle us with epic fight sequences...in Episode Four, it's two guys anemically clashing sabers together. Sure, they're both well past their prime, but...it could use work.
Other than that, every frame is perfect.
Wild Speculation
The dramatic conclusion to 'Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Blog' will involve Doctor Horrible gaining ultimate power, becoming a dark and vengeful god with power over space and time itself. He realizes that he is destined to travel back and found the Evil League of Evil, announcing to the defeated Captain Hammer, "I am the Bad Horse. I create myself."
(Sorry. I just had to post that during the one day it was actually funny to anyone at all.)
(Sorry. I just had to post that during the one day it was actually funny to anyone at all.)
Friday, July 11, 2008
Under the Hood: Star Wars, Episode Three
Don't worry, the post about Doctor Who didn't replace this week's entry, it just added to it. I will continue with my quest to rework the Star Wars saga from the script up, in preparation for the inevitable cash-in remakes engineered by George Lucas' family once he dies! Whenever that might be, of course. Look, I'm not suggesting by any means that my readers should go kill George Lucas. And certainly not by using the swift, undetectable poison known as curare!
...but I'm rambling. Let's open this up, shall we?
At the start of 'Revenge of the Sith', Coruscant is now a much darker place. The Clone Wars have splintered the Republic, with the Separatist forces fighting a guerilla war against the powerful Republic Army. Chancellor Palpatine has been given virtually unlimited power to bring the Republic back together again, and the Senate is now stripped of much of its authority. Every day, Palpatine gives speeches from an undisclosed location (with the civil war going on, he's been targeted for assassination dozens of times) warning of the need for vigilance and unity among the peoples of the Republic.
Obi-Wan, as one of the dwindling numbers of Jedi, is working with the Republic Army to help root out traitors at home, under the command of an ambitious young Captain Tarkin. Tarkin has sent him after Senator Bail Organa, an Alderaanian who has been discovered to be secretly aiding the Separatists. But when Obi-Wan surprises the Senator at his apartments, Bail insists he has been framed. He doesn't want independence for Alderaan, he merely wants to end this war. Palpatine has gone too far, his zeal conceals a secret lust for power, and he's willing to go to any lengths to eliminate all challenges to his authority.
Even the Jedi, once the peacekeepers of the Republic, are now just one more obstacle to Palpatine's quest for absolute power...and he's eliminating them, silently and subtly. Jedi-led units have been sent into the worst of the fighting, they have taken the greatest casualties, and now only a few remain. By continuing to fight Palpatine's usurpation of power, Organa is a threat, and Tarkin hopes to curry favor with Palpatine by getting rid of him. Troubled by these words, and recognizing the truth of them, Obi-Wan decides to look the other way and allow Organa to escape, giving him time enough to prove his innocence.
Meanwhile, off near the Outer Rim, Palpatine personally directs the final assault on the secret Mandalorian clone factories from his personal command ship (the "undisclosed location" mentioned above.) His trusted general, Anakin Skywalker, leads the ground forces in a grim and bloody battle to take the cloneworld despite the hordes of Mandalorian soldiers pouring from the factories. In a final desperate tactic to hold the cloneworld, the Mandalorians send out wave after wave of unarmed clones as fast as the factories can crank them out, hoping to overwhelm the Republic's forces through sheer weight of numbers. But Anakin reaches the command center and shuts off the flow of clones, personally capturing the clonemasters and delivering them to Chancellor Palpatine.
The Chancellor returns to Coruscant in triumph, holding a victory celebration in which he announces the end of major military operations in the Clone Wars. The back of the Separatists have been broken, he announces. No longer can they hope to achieve a military victory. But this is not truly the end. The forces that seek to splinter the Great Republic will now attempt to achieve victory through subterfuge, treachery, and stealth. Now, the duty of the Republic must be to root out the traitors within. Now, the trusted few who have proven their loyalty (he here gestures to Anakin, standing at his right hand) will help to find these traitors, root them out, and destroy them. And they will be helped by the new Army of the Republic, the incorruptible army, the army that knows nothing but loyalty! With those words, ships land, and seemingly endless platoons of clone soldiers march out from them, all wearing white armor. The cloneworld's location remains a secret, but now a Republic state secret. And the clones have been reprogrammed to serve the Republic. (They've also been more or less lobotomized to ensure loyalty. The Mandalorian elite troopers are no more.)
Returning home to his wife, Queen Amidala, Anakin announces his big news. He's been promoted to Grand General! The Chancellor will be placing the occupied Separatist planets under the direct control of Republic governors, called "Moffs"--purely as a temporary measure, of course, until things return to normal. He doesn't understand why Amidala seems so upset about it all. She should be happy! She's expecting, he's rising in the Republic hierarchy, why can't she understand? Amidala tries to explain her fears of the death of freedom, but all Anakin can think of is that she's starting to sound like one of "them". Has she been speaking with Obi-Wan? She shouldn't associate with him. Palpatine has shown him evidence, proof of corruption within the heart of the Jedi order. Obi-Wan's behavior has been most suspicious. He may be a traitor. She shouldn't trust him.
Amidala tries to defend their old friend, which just drives Anakin to greater anger. Why would she possibly sympathize with a traitor to the Republic? Did she not understand the sacrifices Anakin has made for her, for the Republic itself? She's starting to sound like a traitor herself. What has she been doing these last eight months since he was last on Coruscant on leave? Has she been corrupted by Obi-Wan, perhaps gotten too close to him? How close? He's always known that she almost chose Obi-Wan over him, perhaps while he was off saving the galaxy, she's been cozying up to her old boyfriend! How does he even really know the baby is his? Perhaps she's a traitor and a whore both! The words spill into actions, as Anakin strikes his wife. Shocked with himself and with the welling fury that months and years of war have stoked, Anakin flees for guidance.
Anakin heads to Yoda, but ashamed of his actions, he discusses the events only in vague and hypothetical terms. Yoda, an unflinching absolutist, presents things in clear terms. The Light Side is harmony, the Dark Side is evil and chaos. Once you tread the path of the Dark Side, forever will it dominate your destiny. Anger and hatred cannot be contained, cannot be channeled. They must never be allowed to take root, or they will consume you. Needless to say, this is advice that seems to suggest to Anakin that he's already beyond hope. Thanking Yoda, he goes to his other spiritual mentor, Chancellor Palpatine, for guidance.
Meanwhile, Obi-Wan returns to his quarters, his mind troubled. The war has ended, but why then does the darkness seem to be encircling the Jedi order worse than ever? He wishes his old friend and former padawan was there to talk to. His relationship with Anakin may have become strained over the course of the war, but he knows that deep down, his old friend understands him. That's when he hears a knock at the door, and answers it to see a heavily-pregnant Amidala standing in the rain, a swelling bruise on her cheek, tears streaming down her face.
They talk, and Obi-Wan agrees that Anakin needs help and understanding, not confrontation. Many people have been changed by the worse in the war, but peace might bring healing. They just need to--Obi-Wan breaks off his speech, his Jedi senses suggesting something wrong. He races back to the outer room of his quarters, and sees that the door has been forced. Someone is in his quarters. Amidala worries that it might be Anakin--in his current mental state, if he sees the two of them together, he might reach a disastrously wrong conclusion. As the tension builds, Obi-Wan searches his apartments, and finds...
Count Dooku, also known as Darth Tyrannus, Leader of the Separatist Movement and Public Enemy Number One. Obi-Wan draws his lightsaber, but Dooku is there to talk. He explains the full truth--some time ago, after his retirement (and just after the events of Episode One), he met Chancellor Palpatine, and discovered that he was actually one of a secret order known as the Sith. These Sith were once Jedi, but they gave themselves wholly over to the Dark Side of the Force, and learned true greatness from it. True strength must always come from anger. True power comes from our fear, our hatred. Without it, we will always be pale shadows of those who possess it. The Sith spread like a virus before the Jedi decided, long long ago, to dispassionately exterminate them.
Ever since, the remaining Sith have operated in secret. A Sith only takes one apprentice at a time, teaching him until the apprentice has gained the skill to murder the master...or until they fail. Failure has only one punishment for a Sith apprentice. This cannibalistic duo has existed in secret for thousands of years, honing their skills, biding their time, master killing apprentice or apprentice killing master, waiting for their chance to gain the power to exterminate the Jedi order. Waiting for their revenge. Dooku learned from Palpatine, or as he is secretly known, Darth Sidious. He became his apprentice, and the two of them planned to foment a war that would allow them to consolidate the entire power of the Republic under one man, all the better to wipe out the Jedi with.
But now, Dooku has realized that he has been outgamed. His forces have been defeated, as they had planned all along (who else could have leaked the location of the cloneworld to the Republic Army?)...but he has become the public face of the Separatist Movement, the disposable scapegoat for all the crimes of the war. Worse still, he knows too much about Palpatine's manipulations. Palpatine has to kill him, Dooku realizes that now. Sidious has chosen a new apprentice, a new vessel for the Sith. One who has grown powerful with hatred over the course of the war, one whom Sidious has groomed to stand at his right hand. Amidala asks who it is, but she already knows the answer in her heart...
And that's when Anakin arrives in person, having been warned by Palpatine that his friends and lovers are traitors to the cause. He'd come to give them one final chance to deny it, but seeing Obi-Wan and Amidala together, and together with the head of the Separatists, well...that's enough to spark his fury. He duels with Obi-Wan, who's unwilling to truly fight his old friend. Dooku doesn't mind, though, kicking Anakin's ass and preparing to kill him before Obi-Wan and Amidala demand he be spared. They decide to flee Coruscant, instead, heading for the Outer Rim where Obi-Wan can lose pursuit among the sparsely-settled planets beyond the Republic.
On regaining consciousness, Anakin returns to Palpatine to admit his failure. Palpatine understands, though. He was duped by trust, kindness, love...the fool's emotions. Emotions he has grown beyond, emotions he must purge. Palpatine can help. He knows the truth of the Dark Side, has known it all along and was merely waiting for Anakin to advance far enough along the path to be able to see it. He will show Anakin the path of the Sith...and together, they will destroy all the traitors to the Republic. They will crush the disloyal Jedi, Darth Sidious...and Darth Vader.
Vader and Palpatine march on the Jedi temple, an army of stormtroopers at their back. They demand that the Jedi give up all the traitors, or be considered enemies of the state in their entirety. Yoda scoffs at the demand, sensing anger, hatred, greed...the Dark Side no longer concealed in their enemies, but open and unbound. He denounces Palpatine as the true evil at the heart of the Republic. Hearing that is enough for Vader--denouncing the Chancellor? Treachery! A massive battle breaks out, and Yoda orders all Jedi to flee as best they can. In the fray, most Jedi are killed, and the survivors routed--Yoda remains as the last defender of the temple, and he and Palpatine do battle with lightsabers, telekinesis, force lightning, the whole works. Yoda even seems to be winning, until Palpatine pulls out his trump card. The planet Kashyyyk. Occupied by a full garrison of Republic clone troops...with orders to kill every inhabitant, should the Chancellor die. Palpatine offers Yoda a bargain. He may live, as may the wookies of Kashyyyk...but he must go into exile. The moment he is heard from again, anywhere in the Republic, a world dies. Saddened and shamed, Yoda must nonetheless acquiesce.
Finally, Darth Sidious strides into the Jedi temple, the revenge of the Sith complete. "Long have we waited for this day," he says to Vader. "Your triumph can never be complete," Qui-Gon Jinn says, his spirit form appearing along with those of all the deceased Jedi. "Our flesh may have perished, but a true Jedi is more than mere flesh. We are spirit, eternal. You cannot destroy that." Sidious smiles. "You don't know the power of the Dark Side," he says, and red force lighting boils from his fingertips, annhilating the souls of the Jedi, their ancient wisdom and timeless knowledge. Even the spirits of the Jedi perish, this dark day.
Obi-Wan feels this agony even from light-years away, and knows that Sidious and Vader will come for them. They've been moving slowly, carefully, trying to avoid the well-traveled spacelanes to keep free of Republic entanglements, but there's one last checkpoint that will be difficult to avoid; the primordial world of Mustafar, whose geothermal energy is converted into fuel for thousands of starships. They will have to pass through there before they can get to the Outer Rim.
In a tense sequence, Obi-Wan and Dooku leave to get supplies and equipment after concealing their ship in a crater on the far side of a lava sea. They dodge patrols, use Jedi powers to cloud the weak minds of the stormtroopers, and barely get what they need without being discovered...but on their return, Vader and Sidious await them on the bridge over the lava sea that leads back to their ship. The final battle of the Clone Wars begins.
Dooku takes on Palpatine, Anakin fights Obi-Wan. Both masters fight their own apprentices, and both lose. Dooku is no match for the greatest master of the Dark Side the Sith has ever known, and although he is skilled and powerful, Sidious is clearly toying with him, mocking him. Anakin fights with fury and rage, and Obi-Wan can't help but see his own failures as a teacher when he looks at the twisted hatred on his former friend's face...but when Amidala arrives to see what's become of the others, Anakin is tempted with one last chance to turn to the Light.
But no. It's too late for him now. Yoda was right. There is no redemption. He turns on Obi-Wan with savage fury, destroying his lightsaber, forcing him to the very edge of the rock bridge over a sea of lava. Obi-Wan asks one final time, is there nothing left of his friend? Anakin snarls out, "Anakin Skywalker is dead." "I know," Obi-Wan says. "And I'm sorry." And with that, he gestures, pulling a geyser of lava up from below with his telekinesis and splashing it into Vader's face. Vader screams and drops his lightsaber, staggers backwards, and a force push sends him hurtling back into the lava. Amidala collapses in shock and sorrow...and perhaps something else?
Obi-Wan turns to help Dooku, but he's clearly beyond help. He's on his last legs, barely alive, but determined to gain a final pyrrhic victory. He grabs Palpatine and sends them both on a suicidal plunge into the lava below. The Sith seem, at last, to be gone. Obi-Wan races to Amidala's side, and there, at the scene of the death of her husband, she gives birth to her children--the second one surprising everyone. (Hey, it happens sometimes. Doctors can make mistakes.) Obi-Wan takes Anakin's lightsaber, and the four of them depart.
And Palpatine rises up from the lava below, holding it back with nothing but the power of the Force. He carries Vader's burnt and blackened body in his arms, walking out of the lava, the stress aging him with every moment, but refusing to give in to death. After all, he has an Empire to run...
But Amidala and Obi-Wan escape. They decide to split the children up--Bail Organa, now exonerated, agrees to hide Amidala and Leia with him; he will raise Leia as his own daughter, and hide Amidala in the guise of his governess. Obi-Wan takes Luke out to the Outer Rim, to be raised by an old friend of his, Owen Lars, on the desolate planet of Tatooine. Anakin Skywalker might remember that planet, might even look for his son there. But Anakin Skywalker is dead now. Only Darth Vader remains.
...but I'm rambling. Let's open this up, shall we?
At the start of 'Revenge of the Sith', Coruscant is now a much darker place. The Clone Wars have splintered the Republic, with the Separatist forces fighting a guerilla war against the powerful Republic Army. Chancellor Palpatine has been given virtually unlimited power to bring the Republic back together again, and the Senate is now stripped of much of its authority. Every day, Palpatine gives speeches from an undisclosed location (with the civil war going on, he's been targeted for assassination dozens of times) warning of the need for vigilance and unity among the peoples of the Republic.
Obi-Wan, as one of the dwindling numbers of Jedi, is working with the Republic Army to help root out traitors at home, under the command of an ambitious young Captain Tarkin. Tarkin has sent him after Senator Bail Organa, an Alderaanian who has been discovered to be secretly aiding the Separatists. But when Obi-Wan surprises the Senator at his apartments, Bail insists he has been framed. He doesn't want independence for Alderaan, he merely wants to end this war. Palpatine has gone too far, his zeal conceals a secret lust for power, and he's willing to go to any lengths to eliminate all challenges to his authority.
Even the Jedi, once the peacekeepers of the Republic, are now just one more obstacle to Palpatine's quest for absolute power...and he's eliminating them, silently and subtly. Jedi-led units have been sent into the worst of the fighting, they have taken the greatest casualties, and now only a few remain. By continuing to fight Palpatine's usurpation of power, Organa is a threat, and Tarkin hopes to curry favor with Palpatine by getting rid of him. Troubled by these words, and recognizing the truth of them, Obi-Wan decides to look the other way and allow Organa to escape, giving him time enough to prove his innocence.
Meanwhile, off near the Outer Rim, Palpatine personally directs the final assault on the secret Mandalorian clone factories from his personal command ship (the "undisclosed location" mentioned above.) His trusted general, Anakin Skywalker, leads the ground forces in a grim and bloody battle to take the cloneworld despite the hordes of Mandalorian soldiers pouring from the factories. In a final desperate tactic to hold the cloneworld, the Mandalorians send out wave after wave of unarmed clones as fast as the factories can crank them out, hoping to overwhelm the Republic's forces through sheer weight of numbers. But Anakin reaches the command center and shuts off the flow of clones, personally capturing the clonemasters and delivering them to Chancellor Palpatine.
The Chancellor returns to Coruscant in triumph, holding a victory celebration in which he announces the end of major military operations in the Clone Wars. The back of the Separatists have been broken, he announces. No longer can they hope to achieve a military victory. But this is not truly the end. The forces that seek to splinter the Great Republic will now attempt to achieve victory through subterfuge, treachery, and stealth. Now, the duty of the Republic must be to root out the traitors within. Now, the trusted few who have proven their loyalty (he here gestures to Anakin, standing at his right hand) will help to find these traitors, root them out, and destroy them. And they will be helped by the new Army of the Republic, the incorruptible army, the army that knows nothing but loyalty! With those words, ships land, and seemingly endless platoons of clone soldiers march out from them, all wearing white armor. The cloneworld's location remains a secret, but now a Republic state secret. And the clones have been reprogrammed to serve the Republic. (They've also been more or less lobotomized to ensure loyalty. The Mandalorian elite troopers are no more.)
Returning home to his wife, Queen Amidala, Anakin announces his big news. He's been promoted to Grand General! The Chancellor will be placing the occupied Separatist planets under the direct control of Republic governors, called "Moffs"--purely as a temporary measure, of course, until things return to normal. He doesn't understand why Amidala seems so upset about it all. She should be happy! She's expecting, he's rising in the Republic hierarchy, why can't she understand? Amidala tries to explain her fears of the death of freedom, but all Anakin can think of is that she's starting to sound like one of "them". Has she been speaking with Obi-Wan? She shouldn't associate with him. Palpatine has shown him evidence, proof of corruption within the heart of the Jedi order. Obi-Wan's behavior has been most suspicious. He may be a traitor. She shouldn't trust him.
Amidala tries to defend their old friend, which just drives Anakin to greater anger. Why would she possibly sympathize with a traitor to the Republic? Did she not understand the sacrifices Anakin has made for her, for the Republic itself? She's starting to sound like a traitor herself. What has she been doing these last eight months since he was last on Coruscant on leave? Has she been corrupted by Obi-Wan, perhaps gotten too close to him? How close? He's always known that she almost chose Obi-Wan over him, perhaps while he was off saving the galaxy, she's been cozying up to her old boyfriend! How does he even really know the baby is his? Perhaps she's a traitor and a whore both! The words spill into actions, as Anakin strikes his wife. Shocked with himself and with the welling fury that months and years of war have stoked, Anakin flees for guidance.
Anakin heads to Yoda, but ashamed of his actions, he discusses the events only in vague and hypothetical terms. Yoda, an unflinching absolutist, presents things in clear terms. The Light Side is harmony, the Dark Side is evil and chaos. Once you tread the path of the Dark Side, forever will it dominate your destiny. Anger and hatred cannot be contained, cannot be channeled. They must never be allowed to take root, or they will consume you. Needless to say, this is advice that seems to suggest to Anakin that he's already beyond hope. Thanking Yoda, he goes to his other spiritual mentor, Chancellor Palpatine, for guidance.
Meanwhile, Obi-Wan returns to his quarters, his mind troubled. The war has ended, but why then does the darkness seem to be encircling the Jedi order worse than ever? He wishes his old friend and former padawan was there to talk to. His relationship with Anakin may have become strained over the course of the war, but he knows that deep down, his old friend understands him. That's when he hears a knock at the door, and answers it to see a heavily-pregnant Amidala standing in the rain, a swelling bruise on her cheek, tears streaming down her face.
They talk, and Obi-Wan agrees that Anakin needs help and understanding, not confrontation. Many people have been changed by the worse in the war, but peace might bring healing. They just need to--Obi-Wan breaks off his speech, his Jedi senses suggesting something wrong. He races back to the outer room of his quarters, and sees that the door has been forced. Someone is in his quarters. Amidala worries that it might be Anakin--in his current mental state, if he sees the two of them together, he might reach a disastrously wrong conclusion. As the tension builds, Obi-Wan searches his apartments, and finds...
Count Dooku, also known as Darth Tyrannus, Leader of the Separatist Movement and Public Enemy Number One. Obi-Wan draws his lightsaber, but Dooku is there to talk. He explains the full truth--some time ago, after his retirement (and just after the events of Episode One), he met Chancellor Palpatine, and discovered that he was actually one of a secret order known as the Sith. These Sith were once Jedi, but they gave themselves wholly over to the Dark Side of the Force, and learned true greatness from it. True strength must always come from anger. True power comes from our fear, our hatred. Without it, we will always be pale shadows of those who possess it. The Sith spread like a virus before the Jedi decided, long long ago, to dispassionately exterminate them.
Ever since, the remaining Sith have operated in secret. A Sith only takes one apprentice at a time, teaching him until the apprentice has gained the skill to murder the master...or until they fail. Failure has only one punishment for a Sith apprentice. This cannibalistic duo has existed in secret for thousands of years, honing their skills, biding their time, master killing apprentice or apprentice killing master, waiting for their chance to gain the power to exterminate the Jedi order. Waiting for their revenge. Dooku learned from Palpatine, or as he is secretly known, Darth Sidious. He became his apprentice, and the two of them planned to foment a war that would allow them to consolidate the entire power of the Republic under one man, all the better to wipe out the Jedi with.
But now, Dooku has realized that he has been outgamed. His forces have been defeated, as they had planned all along (who else could have leaked the location of the cloneworld to the Republic Army?)...but he has become the public face of the Separatist Movement, the disposable scapegoat for all the crimes of the war. Worse still, he knows too much about Palpatine's manipulations. Palpatine has to kill him, Dooku realizes that now. Sidious has chosen a new apprentice, a new vessel for the Sith. One who has grown powerful with hatred over the course of the war, one whom Sidious has groomed to stand at his right hand. Amidala asks who it is, but she already knows the answer in her heart...
And that's when Anakin arrives in person, having been warned by Palpatine that his friends and lovers are traitors to the cause. He'd come to give them one final chance to deny it, but seeing Obi-Wan and Amidala together, and together with the head of the Separatists, well...that's enough to spark his fury. He duels with Obi-Wan, who's unwilling to truly fight his old friend. Dooku doesn't mind, though, kicking Anakin's ass and preparing to kill him before Obi-Wan and Amidala demand he be spared. They decide to flee Coruscant, instead, heading for the Outer Rim where Obi-Wan can lose pursuit among the sparsely-settled planets beyond the Republic.
On regaining consciousness, Anakin returns to Palpatine to admit his failure. Palpatine understands, though. He was duped by trust, kindness, love...the fool's emotions. Emotions he has grown beyond, emotions he must purge. Palpatine can help. He knows the truth of the Dark Side, has known it all along and was merely waiting for Anakin to advance far enough along the path to be able to see it. He will show Anakin the path of the Sith...and together, they will destroy all the traitors to the Republic. They will crush the disloyal Jedi, Darth Sidious...and Darth Vader.
Vader and Palpatine march on the Jedi temple, an army of stormtroopers at their back. They demand that the Jedi give up all the traitors, or be considered enemies of the state in their entirety. Yoda scoffs at the demand, sensing anger, hatred, greed...the Dark Side no longer concealed in their enemies, but open and unbound. He denounces Palpatine as the true evil at the heart of the Republic. Hearing that is enough for Vader--denouncing the Chancellor? Treachery! A massive battle breaks out, and Yoda orders all Jedi to flee as best they can. In the fray, most Jedi are killed, and the survivors routed--Yoda remains as the last defender of the temple, and he and Palpatine do battle with lightsabers, telekinesis, force lightning, the whole works. Yoda even seems to be winning, until Palpatine pulls out his trump card. The planet Kashyyyk. Occupied by a full garrison of Republic clone troops...with orders to kill every inhabitant, should the Chancellor die. Palpatine offers Yoda a bargain. He may live, as may the wookies of Kashyyyk...but he must go into exile. The moment he is heard from again, anywhere in the Republic, a world dies. Saddened and shamed, Yoda must nonetheless acquiesce.
Finally, Darth Sidious strides into the Jedi temple, the revenge of the Sith complete. "Long have we waited for this day," he says to Vader. "Your triumph can never be complete," Qui-Gon Jinn says, his spirit form appearing along with those of all the deceased Jedi. "Our flesh may have perished, but a true Jedi is more than mere flesh. We are spirit, eternal. You cannot destroy that." Sidious smiles. "You don't know the power of the Dark Side," he says, and red force lighting boils from his fingertips, annhilating the souls of the Jedi, their ancient wisdom and timeless knowledge. Even the spirits of the Jedi perish, this dark day.
Obi-Wan feels this agony even from light-years away, and knows that Sidious and Vader will come for them. They've been moving slowly, carefully, trying to avoid the well-traveled spacelanes to keep free of Republic entanglements, but there's one last checkpoint that will be difficult to avoid; the primordial world of Mustafar, whose geothermal energy is converted into fuel for thousands of starships. They will have to pass through there before they can get to the Outer Rim.
In a tense sequence, Obi-Wan and Dooku leave to get supplies and equipment after concealing their ship in a crater on the far side of a lava sea. They dodge patrols, use Jedi powers to cloud the weak minds of the stormtroopers, and barely get what they need without being discovered...but on their return, Vader and Sidious await them on the bridge over the lava sea that leads back to their ship. The final battle of the Clone Wars begins.
Dooku takes on Palpatine, Anakin fights Obi-Wan. Both masters fight their own apprentices, and both lose. Dooku is no match for the greatest master of the Dark Side the Sith has ever known, and although he is skilled and powerful, Sidious is clearly toying with him, mocking him. Anakin fights with fury and rage, and Obi-Wan can't help but see his own failures as a teacher when he looks at the twisted hatred on his former friend's face...but when Amidala arrives to see what's become of the others, Anakin is tempted with one last chance to turn to the Light.
But no. It's too late for him now. Yoda was right. There is no redemption. He turns on Obi-Wan with savage fury, destroying his lightsaber, forcing him to the very edge of the rock bridge over a sea of lava. Obi-Wan asks one final time, is there nothing left of his friend? Anakin snarls out, "Anakin Skywalker is dead." "I know," Obi-Wan says. "And I'm sorry." And with that, he gestures, pulling a geyser of lava up from below with his telekinesis and splashing it into Vader's face. Vader screams and drops his lightsaber, staggers backwards, and a force push sends him hurtling back into the lava. Amidala collapses in shock and sorrow...and perhaps something else?
Obi-Wan turns to help Dooku, but he's clearly beyond help. He's on his last legs, barely alive, but determined to gain a final pyrrhic victory. He grabs Palpatine and sends them both on a suicidal plunge into the lava below. The Sith seem, at last, to be gone. Obi-Wan races to Amidala's side, and there, at the scene of the death of her husband, she gives birth to her children--the second one surprising everyone. (Hey, it happens sometimes. Doctors can make mistakes.) Obi-Wan takes Anakin's lightsaber, and the four of them depart.
And Palpatine rises up from the lava below, holding it back with nothing but the power of the Force. He carries Vader's burnt and blackened body in his arms, walking out of the lava, the stress aging him with every moment, but refusing to give in to death. After all, he has an Empire to run...
But Amidala and Obi-Wan escape. They decide to split the children up--Bail Organa, now exonerated, agrees to hide Amidala and Leia with him; he will raise Leia as his own daughter, and hide Amidala in the guise of his governess. Obi-Wan takes Luke out to the Outer Rim, to be raised by an old friend of his, Owen Lars, on the desolate planet of Tatooine. Anakin Skywalker might remember that planet, might even look for his son there. But Anakin Skywalker is dead now. Only Darth Vader remains.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Liveblogging: Journey's End
OK, so as a particular favor to my girlfriend, who wants to hear my reactions to 'Journey's End' as they happen, I'll be doing my best to blog while watching the season finale to Doctor Who. This is by way of particular warnings to everyone who hasn't seen it yet, but wants to. Spoilers may very well abound, and I have absolutely no idea how to do that clever thing that lets you hide posts. So, um, I'm just going to yammer for a bit here, so at the very least you have this paragraph as warning and can avert your eyes as you scroll down to this week's storytelling engines post.
So, one last paragraph of yammering, mainly about how much I'm glad that Russell T Davies is done as showrunner. It's not that I haven't deeply enjoyed his run, but the law of diminishing returns seemed to have been setting in lately (in particular his finale to Season Three, which I was generally not fond of.) The wonderful thing about Doctor Who, though, is that when the law of diminishing returns begins to set in for an actor, a writer, a producer...the show renews itself through change. "Regeneration" is an absolutely brilliant concept, the heart of the series, and it's time for the Steven Moffat era to begin. "Change, my dear, and it seems not a moment too soon!"
OK, yammering over. 'Stolen Earth' is still running at the moment, and I'm still fairly not fond of the Shadow Proclamation. I thought they would be more majestic, like a parliament of the Eternals who regulated the Time War...finding out that they're just the guys in charge of the space rhinos is a bit underwhelming. (Albinos running space rhinos...there's a filk in that, but I'm not the man to write it.) I suppose I should write my guesses as to what's going to happen here, but really, I try not to guess these things. Inevitably, I come up with an idea that I think would be cool, and then I'm disappointed that they don't do it. Sometimes I do get bursts of, "Oh! 4022 saved...to the hard drive!" and I'm happy to be right...(I figure that if you're willing to be spoiled on 'Journey's End', 'Forest of the Dead' shouldn't bother you...) In general, though, I don't obsess over it all.
Woot! Shaun's mum! (Sorry, that's my instinctive reaction whenever Penelope Wilton shows up on this series. She was wonderful in 'Shaun of the Dead'.) The "Yes, I know who you are" joke has, though, been officially run into the ground. I notice as the episode plays out that everyone seems to have been watching the DVDs of the series; Sarah Jane knows that the Doctor deposed Harriet Jones, Jack Harkness knows Sarah Jane's adventures, the only person not filled in on every episode is Rose, and she's been in another universe.
I still think the "Davros! But...you're dead!" moment doesn't work very well, because we, the audience, don't find out he was supposed to be dead until after we find out he's not. They should have mentioned in one of the previous seven Dalek episodes that Davros died in the Time Wars. As it is, the shock value is a bit reduced (although it's nice to see Davros again. It's especially nice to see Sarah Jane's reaction; as one of the only people present at the genesis of the Daleks (or, more particularly, the "Genesis of the Daleks"), she and the Doctor alone know what evil he represents.) (Oh, and the Davros makeup is spectacular.)
Just about done now, the Doctor's just being shot...now. And he's regenerating...now. And here...we...go.
Love that Lis Sladen gets credits billing as a companion. Very cool. Mickey! Mick-mick-mickity-mick-mickey! And Jackie! Yay! (Where's Pete?) Um...the regeneration cheat was pretty spectacularly lame. He decided not to? Ugh. Daleks looking up...always a source of unintentional hilarity. What does the Osterhagen Key do? It loves you! Aww, how sweet! Ooh, Daleks speaking German!
"You were brilliant. And you were brilliant. And you were a bit of a ham, and I'm glad they stuck you on Torchwood." Yes, pleading with the Daleks for mercy generally works so well... David Tennant is offically totally awesome! "You're naked!" "Oh, yes!" Oh, and there's Jack, dying again. He must enjoy extreme sports a lot.
David Tennant absolutely carries this series. Seriously, there is not a single scene that he can't rescue, absolutely not a one. Not fond of the "generating out of the hand" thing, but Tennant sells it. (Grr, could people not have long scenes in Germans with no subtitles?) Oh, sorry none of this is timecoded, but I have barely enough attention to write and watch at once, looking at the time is too much extra work.
Geez, Jack's really having a bad day. Shot, incinerated, and the episode's not even half over (probably.) Ah, as usual, Davros can't resist making Daleks that proceed to betray him. Look up "failsafe", Davros. It'll blow your freaking mind. Wouldn't Rose have seen everything Kan saw, when she looked into the Vortex too? She must have, if she left the "Bad Wolf" message for him all over everything.
"I'm so sorry," a verbal tic I'm now getting heartily sick of. Yes, that does seem like something Davros would do now that I've seen the whole sequence. (I thought it was a bit out of character when I saw just the trailer.) Um...when exactly did Mickey and Jack, um...meet? They're acting like buddies, but...
Okay, the Osterhagen Key is officially a STUPID idea. Really, really stupid. Because yes, there's no way that three people could get ahold of these keys and hold the entire world for nuclear ransom... Oh, the reunion between Davros and Sarah Jane is officially brilliant!!! Strictly speaking, Davros' argument is mere sophistry. Those people all made their own choices, the Doctor's not morally culpable for the actions of every person he meets. Just because he feels bad about their deaths doesn't mean it's his fault.
Why bother with a countdown to the destruction of all existence? (When Davros started laughing, I half expected him to say, "Kidding! Oh, God, Doctor, if you could only see the look on your face! Like I'd destroy all reality just to prove a point...")
The heck?
No, seriously, the heck?
OK, so Donna's part Time Lord and I get that bit, but...why do the Daleks have anti-Dalek systems and neutralizers and everything on their own ship? Honestly, why? Le sigh. I like Donna even less as a Time Lady... Ooh, crazy human Doctor has the cojones to do what full Doctor doesn't. (Again, though, why do the Daleks keep something around that can destroy every single Dalek? Honestly, why?) Davros got awfully self-righteous there at the end, for someone prepared to wipe out all existence from existence.
Oh, and there's K-9. They're really pulling out all the fanservice stops, aren't they? Jackie should get more screen time, dangit. (And I still want to see Pete.) Remarkably gentle ride, for the towing of an entire planet at super-light speeds. (And is it worth complaining that next season, there will still be people who don't believe in aliens?)
This, I think, is what I'm most happy to be rid of. The self-congratulatory tone of the Doctor's triumphs under Davies. It's not just that everyone wins, it's the sort of "woo-hoo, look at us, aren't we brilliant, we saved the world!" bits that get right up my left nostril.
Okay, I missed something...why is the Doctor returning Rose to the parallel universe? Sort of being a tit, isn't he? Okay, they're explaining it, still think it's a bit of a plot kludge to get Rose back out of the series. (I still think "that sentence" ends, "...traveling in the TARDIS made you sterile...sorry.") OK, time for Donna to keel over dead, right? Half Time Lady, half human, all not in the series next year...
So, um...doesn't this mean the ersatz Doctor is going to babble all freaky and then drop dead, right in front of Rose? (And one last, "I'm so sorry," thanks so much...) Ehhh...kind of a cop-out, really. I think the death would have worked better. And let's face it, it's not like Ten can really even get any more emo at this point. Ah, Bernard Cribbins...good to the last moment, really.
Teaser trailer's nice. And let's bid a fond farewell to RTD, and a fond hello to Steven Moffat!
So, one last paragraph of yammering, mainly about how much I'm glad that Russell T Davies is done as showrunner. It's not that I haven't deeply enjoyed his run, but the law of diminishing returns seemed to have been setting in lately (in particular his finale to Season Three, which I was generally not fond of.) The wonderful thing about Doctor Who, though, is that when the law of diminishing returns begins to set in for an actor, a writer, a producer...the show renews itself through change. "Regeneration" is an absolutely brilliant concept, the heart of the series, and it's time for the Steven Moffat era to begin. "Change, my dear, and it seems not a moment too soon!"
OK, yammering over. 'Stolen Earth' is still running at the moment, and I'm still fairly not fond of the Shadow Proclamation. I thought they would be more majestic, like a parliament of the Eternals who regulated the Time War...finding out that they're just the guys in charge of the space rhinos is a bit underwhelming. (Albinos running space rhinos...there's a filk in that, but I'm not the man to write it.) I suppose I should write my guesses as to what's going to happen here, but really, I try not to guess these things. Inevitably, I come up with an idea that I think would be cool, and then I'm disappointed that they don't do it. Sometimes I do get bursts of, "Oh! 4022 saved...to the hard drive!" and I'm happy to be right...(I figure that if you're willing to be spoiled on 'Journey's End', 'Forest of the Dead' shouldn't bother you...) In general, though, I don't obsess over it all.
Woot! Shaun's mum! (Sorry, that's my instinctive reaction whenever Penelope Wilton shows up on this series. She was wonderful in 'Shaun of the Dead'.) The "Yes, I know who you are" joke has, though, been officially run into the ground. I notice as the episode plays out that everyone seems to have been watching the DVDs of the series; Sarah Jane knows that the Doctor deposed Harriet Jones, Jack Harkness knows Sarah Jane's adventures, the only person not filled in on every episode is Rose, and she's been in another universe.
I still think the "Davros! But...you're dead!" moment doesn't work very well, because we, the audience, don't find out he was supposed to be dead until after we find out he's not. They should have mentioned in one of the previous seven Dalek episodes that Davros died in the Time Wars. As it is, the shock value is a bit reduced (although it's nice to see Davros again. It's especially nice to see Sarah Jane's reaction; as one of the only people present at the genesis of the Daleks (or, more particularly, the "Genesis of the Daleks"), she and the Doctor alone know what evil he represents.) (Oh, and the Davros makeup is spectacular.)
Just about done now, the Doctor's just being shot...now. And he's regenerating...now. And here...we...go.
Love that Lis Sladen gets credits billing as a companion. Very cool. Mickey! Mick-mick-mickity-mick-mickey! And Jackie! Yay! (Where's Pete?) Um...the regeneration cheat was pretty spectacularly lame. He decided not to? Ugh. Daleks looking up...always a source of unintentional hilarity. What does the Osterhagen Key do? It loves you! Aww, how sweet! Ooh, Daleks speaking German!
"You were brilliant. And you were brilliant. And you were a bit of a ham, and I'm glad they stuck you on Torchwood." Yes, pleading with the Daleks for mercy generally works so well... David Tennant is offically totally awesome! "You're naked!" "Oh, yes!" Oh, and there's Jack, dying again. He must enjoy extreme sports a lot.
David Tennant absolutely carries this series. Seriously, there is not a single scene that he can't rescue, absolutely not a one. Not fond of the "generating out of the hand" thing, but Tennant sells it. (Grr, could people not have long scenes in Germans with no subtitles?) Oh, sorry none of this is timecoded, but I have barely enough attention to write and watch at once, looking at the time is too much extra work.
Geez, Jack's really having a bad day. Shot, incinerated, and the episode's not even half over (probably.) Ah, as usual, Davros can't resist making Daleks that proceed to betray him. Look up "failsafe", Davros. It'll blow your freaking mind. Wouldn't Rose have seen everything Kan saw, when she looked into the Vortex too? She must have, if she left the "Bad Wolf" message for him all over everything.
"I'm so sorry," a verbal tic I'm now getting heartily sick of. Yes, that does seem like something Davros would do now that I've seen the whole sequence. (I thought it was a bit out of character when I saw just the trailer.) Um...when exactly did Mickey and Jack, um...meet? They're acting like buddies, but...
Okay, the Osterhagen Key is officially a STUPID idea. Really, really stupid. Because yes, there's no way that three people could get ahold of these keys and hold the entire world for nuclear ransom... Oh, the reunion between Davros and Sarah Jane is officially brilliant!!! Strictly speaking, Davros' argument is mere sophistry. Those people all made their own choices, the Doctor's not morally culpable for the actions of every person he meets. Just because he feels bad about their deaths doesn't mean it's his fault.
Why bother with a countdown to the destruction of all existence? (When Davros started laughing, I half expected him to say, "Kidding! Oh, God, Doctor, if you could only see the look on your face! Like I'd destroy all reality just to prove a point...")
The heck?
No, seriously, the heck?
OK, so Donna's part Time Lord and I get that bit, but...why do the Daleks have anti-Dalek systems and neutralizers and everything on their own ship? Honestly, why? Le sigh. I like Donna even less as a Time Lady... Ooh, crazy human Doctor has the cojones to do what full Doctor doesn't. (Again, though, why do the Daleks keep something around that can destroy every single Dalek? Honestly, why?) Davros got awfully self-righteous there at the end, for someone prepared to wipe out all existence from existence.
Oh, and there's K-9. They're really pulling out all the fanservice stops, aren't they? Jackie should get more screen time, dangit. (And I still want to see Pete.) Remarkably gentle ride, for the towing of an entire planet at super-light speeds. (And is it worth complaining that next season, there will still be people who don't believe in aliens?)
This, I think, is what I'm most happy to be rid of. The self-congratulatory tone of the Doctor's triumphs under Davies. It's not just that everyone wins, it's the sort of "woo-hoo, look at us, aren't we brilliant, we saved the world!" bits that get right up my left nostril.
Okay, I missed something...why is the Doctor returning Rose to the parallel universe? Sort of being a tit, isn't he? Okay, they're explaining it, still think it's a bit of a plot kludge to get Rose back out of the series. (I still think "that sentence" ends, "...traveling in the TARDIS made you sterile...sorry.") OK, time for Donna to keel over dead, right? Half Time Lady, half human, all not in the series next year...
So, um...doesn't this mean the ersatz Doctor is going to babble all freaky and then drop dead, right in front of Rose? (And one last, "I'm so sorry," thanks so much...) Ehhh...kind of a cop-out, really. I think the death would have worked better. And let's face it, it's not like Ten can really even get any more emo at this point. Ah, Bernard Cribbins...good to the last moment, really.
Teaser trailer's nice. And let's bid a fond farewell to RTD, and a fond hello to Steven Moffat!
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Under the Hood: Star Wars, Episode Two
So where were we? Ah, yes. 'Attack of the Clones'. The one title that everyone really hates. Everyone wanted this one to be called 'The Clone Wars', but it doesn't really sound as "Saturday morning serial" as the other five films. Even so, it's a title that doesn't suck, which puts it head and shoulders above the one Lucas used.
We pick up the action a few years after the events of 'The Phantom Menace', on Coruscant. Queen Amidala has come to the Republic's heart to try to find some way out of what seems to be a brewing civil war; although their attempt to seize Naboo failed, the Trade Federation continues to foment unrest throughout the Republic. Although the Queen doesn't want to see chaos spread, she also believes that Chancellor Palpatine's heavy-handed methods are making the situation worse. She's hoping to speak privately to him, and convince him to find common cause with the Separatists.
Her attempt fails almost before it's begun, as her ship is destroyed by a Separatist bomb just moments after she leaves it. Even here, on the Republic homeworld, Separatist threats lurk. The Jedi assign her two old friends to protect her, Obi-Wan Kenobi and his padawan, Anakin Skywalker, both recently returned from an extended peacekeeping mission on the Outer Rim of the galaxy. But Amidala is shocked to find that during the period she's been separated from her friends, Obi-Wan's relationship with Anakin has deteriorated. Obi-Wan is scarcely older than his student, and Anakin has proved to be powerful in the ways of the Force. Anakin challenges his mentor's every decision, and Obi-Wan over-exerts his authority in an attempt to get his student to listen. And far from smoothing things over, Amidala's return makes things worse...Anakin seems to remember all too well that he had a friendly rivalry with Obi-Wan over her affections.
Despite this, the two work together elegantly to stop another attack on her life, this one from an assassin equipped with strange weaponry. He fails in the attempt, but ominously, he manages to hold off two well-trained Jedi and make his escape using a jetpack device unknown to the Republic before now. This new development prompts Chancellor Palpatine to postpone his meeting with the Queen; two attempts on her life in as many days makes it clear that Coruscant is not safe for her. He confers with the Jedi Council, and they agree to send Amidala into hiding, with Anakin as her bodyguard, while Obi-Wan (as the more experienced of the two) tracks down these killers and ensures the Queen's safety on a more permanent level.
Obi-Wan takes the clues (a tiny dart left by the mysterious assailant, and his description of the attacker) to the Jedi Archives, but finds nothing. To all the recorded histories of the Jedi, it is as if the attacker never existed. Frustrated, he turns to the Jedi Spirit Halls, where the Jedi whose physical forms have died rest in spiritual form, dispensing advice to the living Jedi. Sure enough, his old mentor, Qui-Gon Jinn, recognizes the dart as an artifact of the legendary Mandalorian technocrats, a species from the Outer Rim who are experts in every kind of science. But Qui-Gon is puzzled...the Mandalorians have been reclusive for some time, but the Archive should have records of them. It doesn't seem possible, but the Jedi Archives might have been tampered with. This revelation unsettles Obi-Wan more than any mystery assassin could as he sets off for Mandalor.
Meanwhile, Anakin takes Amidala off to the more obscure parts of the Republic. But the assassin follows them everywhere--Anakin does battle with him on the forest world of Yavin, and finds that this mysterious "Boba Fett" is the equal of a Jedi in combat. Anakin hadn't even imagined this to be possible; the Jedi are supposed to be warriors without compare, the elite defence forces of the Republic. A lone Jedi is as great a threat as a company of soldiers...but Boba Fett is as great a threat as a Jedi.
Obi-Wan arrives at Mandalor to find it the center of a convocation of Separatist forces. Pretty much every known Separatist planet has representatives here; Obi-Wan even spots some aliens he had no idea were preparing to defect. Clearly, the Mandalorians are a major part of the conspiracy against the Republic. Obi-Wan sends a signal back to Coruscant, then goes to investigate further. He soon finds that he's not alone; he senses the presence of a familiar Jedi, the aged (but spry) Count...oh, does he have to be called "Dooku"? It really sounds like a Muppet of some sort. Perhaps "Doku", or "Doka." (As with "Jar Jar", we'll stick with the movie name to avoid confusion for now.) In any event, his mentor's mentor, Qui-Gon's teacher. Dooku also discovered the Mandalorians' involvement, and came to this planet to find out what the Mandalorians are providing the Separatists. He may be old, but an old Jedi is a Jedi nonetheless.
Anakin and Amidala have fled further out from Boba Fett's pursuit, out near the Outer Rim (where Anakin and Obi-Wan have just spent the last few years, learning the territory almost as well as a native.) Despite the danger, or perhaps because of it, the two are drawn together and Amidala admits that she missed him more than she's been willing to say. He suggests that maybe, when the danger is over, they could have a real relationship, as man and woman instead of Queen and Jedi...but Amidala doubts it would ever happen. She cannot stop being a queen (because they're not elected...) and his commitment to the Jedi order is not lightly broken. Anakin refuses to give up his dreams, but the conversation remains unfinished as they pick up a signal from a Republic ship, a rarity in this sector of space. The transmission was intended for Coruscant, but it has been partially blocked, its signal strength reduced to the point where it could never have reached the Republic homeworld. (Yeah, one guess as to who it's from. Look one paragraph up.)
Obi-Wan and Dooku continue searching for the Mandalorians' secret, and they find it. Oh, wow do they find it...an entire army of clones, produced on a secret clone factory elsewhere in the Outer Rim, and all equipped with Mandalorian weaponry. Turns out Boba Fett is just the most accomplished Mandalorian warrior, not the only one by far. Obi-Wan tells Dooku that they need to find the location of the Mandalorian cloneworld, or the Republic may be in dire peril. Dooku spins, placing his lightsaber against Obi-Wan's throat. "I know exactly where it is," he says.
Now a captive, Obi-Wan rails against Dooku's betrayal. Dooku explains that the Republic has grown corrupt, that sinister forces have gained play even in its very heart. He believes that Obi-Wan can help, though. If Obi-Wan agrees to become his apprentice, to learn new, secret techniques that Dooku has mastered, perhaps they can together rebuild the Republic as something worth fighting for. Obi-Wan refuses, but Dooku points out that he has nothing but time to consider the offer, now.
Things more or less follow the original movie from here. Anakin and Amidala go to rescue Obi-Wan, and get in over their heads. (No giant Roman gladiatorial arena, though. Just an increasingly desperate series of battles, as Amidala finds out that she's a target due to her symbolic value as Queen of Naboo, where the civil war first began.) Anakin reveals that he called for reinforcements before going to help Obi-Wan, and Jedi show up to save the day. Then the Jedi get in over their heads, and the entire Republic army shows up to save the day. Dooku escapes after a battle with Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Yoda (yes, I'm keeping the Yoda battle; I'm a huge Hong Kong movie fan, and the whole "old master looks frail and feeble but seriously kicks ass" trope is one of my favorites.) The Republic wins a battle, but much of the Separatist army manages to retreat, and no prisoners seem to know the location of the secret cloneworld. The Clone Wars begin.
And back on Coruscant, Dooku lands a secret craft in the heart of the Republic. He confers with Darth Sidious, who calls him "Darth Tyrannus" and compares notes with him on their plan to create a civil war in the Republic. "Soon, the Jedi will fall..." Sidious notes, taking off his hood, "and the dominion of the Sith will be complete." And Dooku smiles as he and Chancellor Palpatine part ways to plot the downfall of a Republic.
We pick up the action a few years after the events of 'The Phantom Menace', on Coruscant. Queen Amidala has come to the Republic's heart to try to find some way out of what seems to be a brewing civil war; although their attempt to seize Naboo failed, the Trade Federation continues to foment unrest throughout the Republic. Although the Queen doesn't want to see chaos spread, she also believes that Chancellor Palpatine's heavy-handed methods are making the situation worse. She's hoping to speak privately to him, and convince him to find common cause with the Separatists.
Her attempt fails almost before it's begun, as her ship is destroyed by a Separatist bomb just moments after she leaves it. Even here, on the Republic homeworld, Separatist threats lurk. The Jedi assign her two old friends to protect her, Obi-Wan Kenobi and his padawan, Anakin Skywalker, both recently returned from an extended peacekeeping mission on the Outer Rim of the galaxy. But Amidala is shocked to find that during the period she's been separated from her friends, Obi-Wan's relationship with Anakin has deteriorated. Obi-Wan is scarcely older than his student, and Anakin has proved to be powerful in the ways of the Force. Anakin challenges his mentor's every decision, and Obi-Wan over-exerts his authority in an attempt to get his student to listen. And far from smoothing things over, Amidala's return makes things worse...Anakin seems to remember all too well that he had a friendly rivalry with Obi-Wan over her affections.
Despite this, the two work together elegantly to stop another attack on her life, this one from an assassin equipped with strange weaponry. He fails in the attempt, but ominously, he manages to hold off two well-trained Jedi and make his escape using a jetpack device unknown to the Republic before now. This new development prompts Chancellor Palpatine to postpone his meeting with the Queen; two attempts on her life in as many days makes it clear that Coruscant is not safe for her. He confers with the Jedi Council, and they agree to send Amidala into hiding, with Anakin as her bodyguard, while Obi-Wan (as the more experienced of the two) tracks down these killers and ensures the Queen's safety on a more permanent level.
Obi-Wan takes the clues (a tiny dart left by the mysterious assailant, and his description of the attacker) to the Jedi Archives, but finds nothing. To all the recorded histories of the Jedi, it is as if the attacker never existed. Frustrated, he turns to the Jedi Spirit Halls, where the Jedi whose physical forms have died rest in spiritual form, dispensing advice to the living Jedi. Sure enough, his old mentor, Qui-Gon Jinn, recognizes the dart as an artifact of the legendary Mandalorian technocrats, a species from the Outer Rim who are experts in every kind of science. But Qui-Gon is puzzled...the Mandalorians have been reclusive for some time, but the Archive should have records of them. It doesn't seem possible, but the Jedi Archives might have been tampered with. This revelation unsettles Obi-Wan more than any mystery assassin could as he sets off for Mandalor.
Meanwhile, Anakin takes Amidala off to the more obscure parts of the Republic. But the assassin follows them everywhere--Anakin does battle with him on the forest world of Yavin, and finds that this mysterious "Boba Fett" is the equal of a Jedi in combat. Anakin hadn't even imagined this to be possible; the Jedi are supposed to be warriors without compare, the elite defence forces of the Republic. A lone Jedi is as great a threat as a company of soldiers...but Boba Fett is as great a threat as a Jedi.
Obi-Wan arrives at Mandalor to find it the center of a convocation of Separatist forces. Pretty much every known Separatist planet has representatives here; Obi-Wan even spots some aliens he had no idea were preparing to defect. Clearly, the Mandalorians are a major part of the conspiracy against the Republic. Obi-Wan sends a signal back to Coruscant, then goes to investigate further. He soon finds that he's not alone; he senses the presence of a familiar Jedi, the aged (but spry) Count...oh, does he have to be called "Dooku"? It really sounds like a Muppet of some sort. Perhaps "Doku", or "Doka." (As with "Jar Jar", we'll stick with the movie name to avoid confusion for now.) In any event, his mentor's mentor, Qui-Gon's teacher. Dooku also discovered the Mandalorians' involvement, and came to this planet to find out what the Mandalorians are providing the Separatists. He may be old, but an old Jedi is a Jedi nonetheless.
Anakin and Amidala have fled further out from Boba Fett's pursuit, out near the Outer Rim (where Anakin and Obi-Wan have just spent the last few years, learning the territory almost as well as a native.) Despite the danger, or perhaps because of it, the two are drawn together and Amidala admits that she missed him more than she's been willing to say. He suggests that maybe, when the danger is over, they could have a real relationship, as man and woman instead of Queen and Jedi...but Amidala doubts it would ever happen. She cannot stop being a queen (because they're not elected...) and his commitment to the Jedi order is not lightly broken. Anakin refuses to give up his dreams, but the conversation remains unfinished as they pick up a signal from a Republic ship, a rarity in this sector of space. The transmission was intended for Coruscant, but it has been partially blocked, its signal strength reduced to the point where it could never have reached the Republic homeworld. (Yeah, one guess as to who it's from. Look one paragraph up.)
Obi-Wan and Dooku continue searching for the Mandalorians' secret, and they find it. Oh, wow do they find it...an entire army of clones, produced on a secret clone factory elsewhere in the Outer Rim, and all equipped with Mandalorian weaponry. Turns out Boba Fett is just the most accomplished Mandalorian warrior, not the only one by far. Obi-Wan tells Dooku that they need to find the location of the Mandalorian cloneworld, or the Republic may be in dire peril. Dooku spins, placing his lightsaber against Obi-Wan's throat. "I know exactly where it is," he says.
Now a captive, Obi-Wan rails against Dooku's betrayal. Dooku explains that the Republic has grown corrupt, that sinister forces have gained play even in its very heart. He believes that Obi-Wan can help, though. If Obi-Wan agrees to become his apprentice, to learn new, secret techniques that Dooku has mastered, perhaps they can together rebuild the Republic as something worth fighting for. Obi-Wan refuses, but Dooku points out that he has nothing but time to consider the offer, now.
Things more or less follow the original movie from here. Anakin and Amidala go to rescue Obi-Wan, and get in over their heads. (No giant Roman gladiatorial arena, though. Just an increasingly desperate series of battles, as Amidala finds out that she's a target due to her symbolic value as Queen of Naboo, where the civil war first began.) Anakin reveals that he called for reinforcements before going to help Obi-Wan, and Jedi show up to save the day. Then the Jedi get in over their heads, and the entire Republic army shows up to save the day. Dooku escapes after a battle with Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Yoda (yes, I'm keeping the Yoda battle; I'm a huge Hong Kong movie fan, and the whole "old master looks frail and feeble but seriously kicks ass" trope is one of my favorites.) The Republic wins a battle, but much of the Separatist army manages to retreat, and no prisoners seem to know the location of the secret cloneworld. The Clone Wars begin.
And back on Coruscant, Dooku lands a secret craft in the heart of the Republic. He confers with Darth Sidious, who calls him "Darth Tyrannus" and compares notes with him on their plan to create a civil war in the Republic. "Soon, the Jedi will fall..." Sidious notes, taking off his hood, "and the dominion of the Sith will be complete." And Dooku smiles as he and Chancellor Palpatine part ways to plot the downfall of a Republic.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Under the Hood: Star Wars, Episode One
So at this point, my computer refuses to acknowledge the existence of the Internet, which means I can't surf the web, check my email, or illegally download Doctor Who. (I'm typing this on my room-mate's computer; he will be handling the illegal-download duties this week.) But you didn't come here to hear about my problems, you came here to listen to me yammer about random stuff!
A few years back, I found myself discussing the Star Wars prequels with a friend I've unfortunately lost touch with. We were talking about how much they sucked, to be specific, and how easy it would be to rework them into something better. We came up with plans for revised versions of all six movies (as we pretty much took it as a given, even back in 2002, that Episode Three wasn't going to be a classic.) Today, I'm going to share with you our views on what needed to happen to Episode One, the Phantom Menace!
First, the story needed to begin in mid-battle. We never see the droid troopers in battle against anything other than Jedi for the first three-quarters of the movie, and the Jedi basically school them. Which makes the battle droids appear weak and unthreatening (and their spindly design and comedy voices don't help.) So our Episode One opens with the Trade Federation fleets (and needless to say, our Trade Federation aliens would have their own language, with subtitles) attacking the peaceful planet of Naboo (except that Naboo would probably have a less silly name in our version.) Droid soldiers (who would look more like the droids in Episode Two, with stockier bodies and deeper voices) overwhelm the Naboo soldiers, and all appears lost...
Until two Jedi arrive. Qui-Gon Jinn and his rebellious student, Obi-Wan Kenobi, show up to negotiate (and if necessary, enforce) a peace. The Trade Federation are expected to toe the line--the Jedi are, after all, respected for over a thousand years as the peacekeepers of the Republic. (There's a hint of something unsavory about this, here. Many of the species outside of the Republic, on the Outer Rim, are immune to Jedi powers, and there's definitely an undercurrent of an idea that maybe the Republic was founded when the Jedi kicked out the people they couldn't control. But Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are decent men, even if Obi-Wan is a bit of a hellraiser.)
But this time, the Trade Federation refuses to kowtow. They instead take the unprecedented step of attacking the Jedi, insinuating that they have the patronage of something darker, more ancient, something that even the Jedi must fear. Qui-Gon is worried and wants to find out more, but first, he and his apprentice have to fight a world of killer robots, free Queen Amidala (who isn't elected, because Queens tend not to be) and get back to Coruscant, the capital of the Republic to warn everyone.
For two Jedi, this is easier than it looks. They get the help of a native of the planet, whose name isn't Jar Jar Binks, who isn't clumsy, and who is actually useful in a fight. Think an amphibious version of Chewbacca, rather than the CGI mess we got. Sort of if the Creature From the Black Lagoon was a nice guy. But we'll continue to call him Jar Jar here, just to make it clear who we're talking about. They save Jar Jar, and Jar Jar repays the favor by helping them rescue the Queen and get everyone off-planet.
The Trade Federation give chase. Conversations with their secret master, Darth Sidious, make it clear that this is just the first step in a plan to split the Republic apart, and he needs Naboo's resources to make it happen. It's clear that while the Trade Federation isn't afraid of the Jedi anymore, they're very afraid of him. The Jedi's ship gives the Trade Federation the slip by escaping past the Outer Rim, into the frontier territory controlled by the Hutts, but their ship is damaged and they must put down for repairs on a backwater planet. (Not Tatooine. No Tatooine until the end of Episode Three, that's my motto. This is another part of the Hutt territory, a few systems away from Tatooine.)
While the Queen's people are fixing and Qui-Gon is meditating, Obi-Wan sneaks off. (Hellraiser, remember?) He winds up meeting an orphaned teen just a year or so younger than him (say, seventeen to Obi-Wan's eighteen), who's in the middle of an illegal swoop race with a bunch of alien bikers. (For the non-Star Wars literate, swoops are to the speeder bikes in 'Return to the Jedi' as Harleys are to those little crotch-rocket motorcycles.) The teen, one Anakin Skywalker, is racing for money, and wins...and as a Jedi, Obi-Wan can tell that this kid is using the Force to help him race on a scale that staggers Obi-Wan's imagination. Meanwhile, Qui-Gon winds up having his meditation interrupted by a force of one hundred armed guards, sent by the Hutts.
While all this is going on, Darth Sidious sends his apprentice, Darth Maul, to apprehend the Queen personally should the Trade Federation fail. Maul lands on the planet, and begins seeking his quarry out...and the first thing that attracts his attention is an apocalyptic bar fight between several dozen disgruntled alien bikers convinced that Anakin was cheating, and Anakin and Obi-Wan, who become instant friends while slicing, dicing, and shooting aliens. But Darth Maul is watching them...
The Hutts, meanwhile, have summoned Qui-Gon to ask him exactly who this "Trade Federation" is that's just landed a battlefleet right above their planet, and why they want this Queen. (They're not angry. The Hutts merely sent a hundred armed men to fetch him merely as a sign of respect for his abilities as a Jedi. To send just one armed goon would be a grave insult.) Qui-Gon explains the situation, and while the Hutts have no interest on either side, the Trade Federation's presumption and demanding attitude alienates them.
A major battle follows. In space, Hutt battleships fight the Trade Federation's forces, and the Hutts fight dirty. On the planet, Qui-Gon returns to find that Obi-Wan and Anakin have dragged a whole army of lowlifes to their hangar. He gets everyone on board the ship and prepares for lift-off, when Darth Maul shows up. Maul cuts a swathe through the angry mob, and very nearly through Qui-Gon as well. He's very well-trained, and uses the Dark Side of the Force in a way that hasn't been seen in centuries...not since the founding of the Republic, in fact.
Qui-Gon holds his own just long enough to get to the ship, which takes off and weaves its way through the space battle, finally getting clear of the planet and jumping into hyperspace. Next stop, Coruscant! ...where Queen Amidala finds little sympathy for her cause in the gridlocked Senate. Her personal Senator, Palpatine, manipulates her into putting him forward as a candidate for Chancellor.
That night, Obi-Wan goes to see Amidala in her quarters. (Because, y'know, grrrrowlll! Jedi are discouraged from forming relationships, but it's not forbidden.) He finds her there, but he also finds Darth Maul. A lightsaber duel follows, with Obi-Wan handling Maul better than Qui-Gon, but still not well enough. The two combatants trash the room, slowly destroying power couplings and lighting fixtures over the course of their fight so that the room gradually darkens, eventually lit only by their twin lightsabers. Then, Maul manages to disarm Obi-Wan, and the room is lit only by one saber, gradually inching down towards Obi-Wan's face...
And then, behind Maul, there's the trademark sound of lightsabers turning on, one after another after another until the entire Jedi Council stands illuminated. In the center of them stands Yoda, who's not wielding anything. He's just staring at Maul with a little scowl on his face. Maul sees that, and runs for it. He slices open a wall and jumps out into Coruscant hover-traffic, leaping from car to car until he's just a spot in the distance.
With that, Amidala decides to return to her homeworld. She's no safer on Coruscant than anywhere else, and Jar Jar has pledged the help of his people against the droid armies. Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Anakin decide to accompany them--Anakin wants to become a Jedi, and although Yoda insists he's too old to begin the training, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are both open to the idea. (Yoda, meanwhile, warns Qui-Gon that the power, the darkness he felt in Maul is reminiscent of the ancient warnings, the legends of the Sith. He urges the utmost caution. If the Sith have returned, dark times may lie ahead for the entire galaxy.)
The heroes' forces run the blockade surrounding Naboo, and Queen Amidala allies herself with the Gungan armies for a showdown. They free many of the captured Naboo pilots and a handful of ships, and Anakin volunteers to help fly a risky assault on the Trade Federation's co-ordinator ships (which enable their droids and starships to act in unison.) He's hoping the Queen will be at least a little impressed with this show of bravery...after all, grrrrowlll!
Gungans fight droids (more competently than in the movie, which made it look like a sort of Special Olympics of war), Anakin heroically destroys the co-ordinator ship, and Darth Maul battles both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon dies, Darth Maul dies, but even without the co-ordinator ship, the Trade Federation's forces are overwhelming, and defeat seems certain...until Chancellor Palpatine arrives with the Republic's forces to save the day! Huzzah!
Or, at least, sort of huzzah. Qui-Gon is dead, and without him, Anakin's dream of becoming a Jedi seems stillborn. Not to mention, the captured Trade Federation leaders mention a further Sith Lord in the shadows, the master to Maul's apprentice, one they only know as Darth Sidious...and on mentioning his name, they immediately drop dead in agony. Yoda fears the worst. Even with all his misgivings, though, he cannot deny Obi-Wan his ascension to Jedi Knight. And as a full Jedi Knight, Obi-Wan may take an apprentice. He chooses his fast friend, Anakin Skywalker. And at the awards ceremony, Amidala delivers a kiss that makes it pretty clear that she, too, chooses Anakin.
A few years back, I found myself discussing the Star Wars prequels with a friend I've unfortunately lost touch with. We were talking about how much they sucked, to be specific, and how easy it would be to rework them into something better. We came up with plans for revised versions of all six movies (as we pretty much took it as a given, even back in 2002, that Episode Three wasn't going to be a classic.) Today, I'm going to share with you our views on what needed to happen to Episode One, the Phantom Menace!
First, the story needed to begin in mid-battle. We never see the droid troopers in battle against anything other than Jedi for the first three-quarters of the movie, and the Jedi basically school them. Which makes the battle droids appear weak and unthreatening (and their spindly design and comedy voices don't help.) So our Episode One opens with the Trade Federation fleets (and needless to say, our Trade Federation aliens would have their own language, with subtitles) attacking the peaceful planet of Naboo (except that Naboo would probably have a less silly name in our version.) Droid soldiers (who would look more like the droids in Episode Two, with stockier bodies and deeper voices) overwhelm the Naboo soldiers, and all appears lost...
Until two Jedi arrive. Qui-Gon Jinn and his rebellious student, Obi-Wan Kenobi, show up to negotiate (and if necessary, enforce) a peace. The Trade Federation are expected to toe the line--the Jedi are, after all, respected for over a thousand years as the peacekeepers of the Republic. (There's a hint of something unsavory about this, here. Many of the species outside of the Republic, on the Outer Rim, are immune to Jedi powers, and there's definitely an undercurrent of an idea that maybe the Republic was founded when the Jedi kicked out the people they couldn't control. But Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are decent men, even if Obi-Wan is a bit of a hellraiser.)
But this time, the Trade Federation refuses to kowtow. They instead take the unprecedented step of attacking the Jedi, insinuating that they have the patronage of something darker, more ancient, something that even the Jedi must fear. Qui-Gon is worried and wants to find out more, but first, he and his apprentice have to fight a world of killer robots, free Queen Amidala (who isn't elected, because Queens tend not to be) and get back to Coruscant, the capital of the Republic to warn everyone.
For two Jedi, this is easier than it looks. They get the help of a native of the planet, whose name isn't Jar Jar Binks, who isn't clumsy, and who is actually useful in a fight. Think an amphibious version of Chewbacca, rather than the CGI mess we got. Sort of if the Creature From the Black Lagoon was a nice guy. But we'll continue to call him Jar Jar here, just to make it clear who we're talking about. They save Jar Jar, and Jar Jar repays the favor by helping them rescue the Queen and get everyone off-planet.
The Trade Federation give chase. Conversations with their secret master, Darth Sidious, make it clear that this is just the first step in a plan to split the Republic apart, and he needs Naboo's resources to make it happen. It's clear that while the Trade Federation isn't afraid of the Jedi anymore, they're very afraid of him. The Jedi's ship gives the Trade Federation the slip by escaping past the Outer Rim, into the frontier territory controlled by the Hutts, but their ship is damaged and they must put down for repairs on a backwater planet. (Not Tatooine. No Tatooine until the end of Episode Three, that's my motto. This is another part of the Hutt territory, a few systems away from Tatooine.)
While the Queen's people are fixing and Qui-Gon is meditating, Obi-Wan sneaks off. (Hellraiser, remember?) He winds up meeting an orphaned teen just a year or so younger than him (say, seventeen to Obi-Wan's eighteen), who's in the middle of an illegal swoop race with a bunch of alien bikers. (For the non-Star Wars literate, swoops are to the speeder bikes in 'Return to the Jedi' as Harleys are to those little crotch-rocket motorcycles.) The teen, one Anakin Skywalker, is racing for money, and wins...and as a Jedi, Obi-Wan can tell that this kid is using the Force to help him race on a scale that staggers Obi-Wan's imagination. Meanwhile, Qui-Gon winds up having his meditation interrupted by a force of one hundred armed guards, sent by the Hutts.
While all this is going on, Darth Sidious sends his apprentice, Darth Maul, to apprehend the Queen personally should the Trade Federation fail. Maul lands on the planet, and begins seeking his quarry out...and the first thing that attracts his attention is an apocalyptic bar fight between several dozen disgruntled alien bikers convinced that Anakin was cheating, and Anakin and Obi-Wan, who become instant friends while slicing, dicing, and shooting aliens. But Darth Maul is watching them...
The Hutts, meanwhile, have summoned Qui-Gon to ask him exactly who this "Trade Federation" is that's just landed a battlefleet right above their planet, and why they want this Queen. (They're not angry. The Hutts merely sent a hundred armed men to fetch him merely as a sign of respect for his abilities as a Jedi. To send just one armed goon would be a grave insult.) Qui-Gon explains the situation, and while the Hutts have no interest on either side, the Trade Federation's presumption and demanding attitude alienates them.
A major battle follows. In space, Hutt battleships fight the Trade Federation's forces, and the Hutts fight dirty. On the planet, Qui-Gon returns to find that Obi-Wan and Anakin have dragged a whole army of lowlifes to their hangar. He gets everyone on board the ship and prepares for lift-off, when Darth Maul shows up. Maul cuts a swathe through the angry mob, and very nearly through Qui-Gon as well. He's very well-trained, and uses the Dark Side of the Force in a way that hasn't been seen in centuries...not since the founding of the Republic, in fact.
Qui-Gon holds his own just long enough to get to the ship, which takes off and weaves its way through the space battle, finally getting clear of the planet and jumping into hyperspace. Next stop, Coruscant! ...where Queen Amidala finds little sympathy for her cause in the gridlocked Senate. Her personal Senator, Palpatine, manipulates her into putting him forward as a candidate for Chancellor.
That night, Obi-Wan goes to see Amidala in her quarters. (Because, y'know, grrrrowlll! Jedi are discouraged from forming relationships, but it's not forbidden.) He finds her there, but he also finds Darth Maul. A lightsaber duel follows, with Obi-Wan handling Maul better than Qui-Gon, but still not well enough. The two combatants trash the room, slowly destroying power couplings and lighting fixtures over the course of their fight so that the room gradually darkens, eventually lit only by their twin lightsabers. Then, Maul manages to disarm Obi-Wan, and the room is lit only by one saber, gradually inching down towards Obi-Wan's face...
And then, behind Maul, there's the trademark sound of lightsabers turning on, one after another after another until the entire Jedi Council stands illuminated. In the center of them stands Yoda, who's not wielding anything. He's just staring at Maul with a little scowl on his face. Maul sees that, and runs for it. He slices open a wall and jumps out into Coruscant hover-traffic, leaping from car to car until he's just a spot in the distance.
With that, Amidala decides to return to her homeworld. She's no safer on Coruscant than anywhere else, and Jar Jar has pledged the help of his people against the droid armies. Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Anakin decide to accompany them--Anakin wants to become a Jedi, and although Yoda insists he's too old to begin the training, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are both open to the idea. (Yoda, meanwhile, warns Qui-Gon that the power, the darkness he felt in Maul is reminiscent of the ancient warnings, the legends of the Sith. He urges the utmost caution. If the Sith have returned, dark times may lie ahead for the entire galaxy.)
The heroes' forces run the blockade surrounding Naboo, and Queen Amidala allies herself with the Gungan armies for a showdown. They free many of the captured Naboo pilots and a handful of ships, and Anakin volunteers to help fly a risky assault on the Trade Federation's co-ordinator ships (which enable their droids and starships to act in unison.) He's hoping the Queen will be at least a little impressed with this show of bravery...after all, grrrrowlll!
Gungans fight droids (more competently than in the movie, which made it look like a sort of Special Olympics of war), Anakin heroically destroys the co-ordinator ship, and Darth Maul battles both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon dies, Darth Maul dies, but even without the co-ordinator ship, the Trade Federation's forces are overwhelming, and defeat seems certain...until Chancellor Palpatine arrives with the Republic's forces to save the day! Huzzah!
Or, at least, sort of huzzah. Qui-Gon is dead, and without him, Anakin's dream of becoming a Jedi seems stillborn. Not to mention, the captured Trade Federation leaders mention a further Sith Lord in the shadows, the master to Maul's apprentice, one they only know as Darth Sidious...and on mentioning his name, they immediately drop dead in agony. Yoda fears the worst. Even with all his misgivings, though, he cannot deny Obi-Wan his ascension to Jedi Knight. And as a full Jedi Knight, Obi-Wan may take an apprentice. He chooses his fast friend, Anakin Skywalker. And at the awards ceremony, Amidala delivers a kiss that makes it pretty clear that she, too, chooses Anakin.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Informal Storytelling Engines Poll
At this point, I've now done seventy-six entries in the "Storytelling Engines" series, which is a lot longer than I generally tend to stick with things. (Honestly, I'm kind of impressed with myself. Probably much more than my audience is impressed with me.) But the problem is, I'm actually running out of things to talk about. I originally based this series on the great big "Essentials/Showcase Presents" volumes because they were cheap, and because they gave a nice overview of a long period of a series' history, which allowed me to take a look at the way storytelling engines changed over time.
Well, unfortunately, Marvel and DC aren't publishing them as fast as I'm writing about them. As I write this, there are seven series ('Shazam', 'Sergeant Rock', 'Metamorpho', 'Robin', 'Human Torch', 'Rampaging Hulk' and 'Captain Marvel') left that I haven't done an entry on. And honestly, I have no idea what to say about the Human Torch's solo series. DC is coming out with a few new volumes in the next few months ('House of Secrets' and 'Blackhawks'), but after that, I'm officially out of material.
So I'd like to hear people's opinions for a moment. Should I, at that point, wrap it up as a regular feature? Eighty-five entries, thanks very much, good job and well done? Or should I try expanding it to other areas, some of which wouldn't be comics-related? (For example, I've got the entire series of Buffy, Angel, Firefly, the Critic, Monty Python, Futurama and Black Adder on DVD, not to mention more Doctor Who and Simpsons than you could possibly imagine.) Feel free to add your thoughts in the comments section. I'll be paying close attention.
Well, unfortunately, Marvel and DC aren't publishing them as fast as I'm writing about them. As I write this, there are seven series ('Shazam', 'Sergeant Rock', 'Metamorpho', 'Robin', 'Human Torch', 'Rampaging Hulk' and 'Captain Marvel') left that I haven't done an entry on. And honestly, I have no idea what to say about the Human Torch's solo series. DC is coming out with a few new volumes in the next few months ('House of Secrets' and 'Blackhawks'), but after that, I'm officially out of material.
So I'd like to hear people's opinions for a moment. Should I, at that point, wrap it up as a regular feature? Eighty-five entries, thanks very much, good job and well done? Or should I try expanding it to other areas, some of which wouldn't be comics-related? (For example, I've got the entire series of Buffy, Angel, Firefly, the Critic, Monty Python, Futurama and Black Adder on DVD, not to mention more Doctor Who and Simpsons than you could possibly imagine.) Feel free to add your thoughts in the comments section. I'll be paying close attention.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Review: Don't Look Now
(Sorry about the lateness of this entry--been too tired to write lately. I'm thinking about taking multi-vitamins.)
There was a time in my life--a happier time--when I could say I have never seen a film that could be summarized with the words, "Donald Sutherland wanders around Venice for two hours, then gets stabbed by a midget." But unfortunately, that's no longer the case. Because I have seen 'Don't Look Now'. This unintentionally-aptly-titled 1973 thriller is legendary for its infamous "shock" ending, which made #22 on Bravo's 100 Scariest Moments In Film. After watching the film, I understand why the ending is so popular. After sitting through this movie, I was overjoyed to see any kind of an ending.
In all seriousness, the film is deadly dull. Julie Christie and Donald Sutherland play a couple whose youngest child has drowned, and their working vacation in Venice (he restores old cathedrals) is filled with...well, as I say, endless sequences of them wandering through the streets, and loud, ominous music that continually seems out of place in its efforts to convince the audience that something is happening when it isn't. Christie meets two elderly British women, one of whom claims to be psychic, and the movie tries to squeeze a little mileage out of that, but as with all of the subplots, it never really seems to get going. Every so often, someone mentions something about "murders", but the director never lets any of that get in the way of endless shots of people wandering around the Venetian scenery.
And then, in the end, Donald Sutherland gets stabbed by a killer midget that he thinks is his daughter. No explanation, no set-up (because really, how do you set up "killer midget"?) I'd say I was sorry for spoiling the movie by telling you that, but really, if you read this review and wind up not wanting to see this film, I've done you a favor. (Oh, by the same note, the cancer patient did it in 'Saw' and he's pretending to be the corpse on the floor.) Then, as he lies dying, we get a quick montage of every scene in the entire movie, just to complete the illusion that we're trapped in a never-ending hell of dull, pointless sequences of awkward, stilted dialog and random musical cues.
I realize that very few of my readers were clamoring to see 'Don't Look Now'. Most of you have never even heard of it. But if I've saved even one person from wasting 110 minutes of their life watching this testament to cinematic immobility, my time on this earth shall not have been in vain.
There was a time in my life--a happier time--when I could say I have never seen a film that could be summarized with the words, "Donald Sutherland wanders around Venice for two hours, then gets stabbed by a midget." But unfortunately, that's no longer the case. Because I have seen 'Don't Look Now'. This unintentionally-aptly-titled 1973 thriller is legendary for its infamous "shock" ending, which made #22 on Bravo's 100 Scariest Moments In Film. After watching the film, I understand why the ending is so popular. After sitting through this movie, I was overjoyed to see any kind of an ending.
In all seriousness, the film is deadly dull. Julie Christie and Donald Sutherland play a couple whose youngest child has drowned, and their working vacation in Venice (he restores old cathedrals) is filled with...well, as I say, endless sequences of them wandering through the streets, and loud, ominous music that continually seems out of place in its efforts to convince the audience that something is happening when it isn't. Christie meets two elderly British women, one of whom claims to be psychic, and the movie tries to squeeze a little mileage out of that, but as with all of the subplots, it never really seems to get going. Every so often, someone mentions something about "murders", but the director never lets any of that get in the way of endless shots of people wandering around the Venetian scenery.
And then, in the end, Donald Sutherland gets stabbed by a killer midget that he thinks is his daughter. No explanation, no set-up (because really, how do you set up "killer midget"?) I'd say I was sorry for spoiling the movie by telling you that, but really, if you read this review and wind up not wanting to see this film, I've done you a favor. (Oh, by the same note, the cancer patient did it in 'Saw' and he's pretending to be the corpse on the floor.) Then, as he lies dying, we get a quick montage of every scene in the entire movie, just to complete the illusion that we're trapped in a never-ending hell of dull, pointless sequences of awkward, stilted dialog and random musical cues.
I realize that very few of my readers were clamoring to see 'Don't Look Now'. Most of you have never even heard of it. But if I've saved even one person from wasting 110 minutes of their life watching this testament to cinematic immobility, my time on this earth shall not have been in vain.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Match.com: Performance Art?
The radio ads for match.com are so strange, so bizarrely desperate and weird that I do sometimes suspect that they're not meant to be enticements to visit the site at all, but perhaps some sort of meta-commentary on the futility of attempting to convince people to buy your product with persuasive discourse. Last year, for example, they ran a series of ads discussing how you could sign other people up for the dating service if you didn't want to use it on your own behalf. "Match.com--for the yenta in you!" (I can only assume that they stopped doing this because of all the potentials for disaster that could result. "Honey, we decided we didn't like the man you were dating, so we signed you up for Match.com. Here's Harold, we think he'd be a much better boyfriend for you.")
Later, they took to emphasizing their "six months free" promise. As in, "If you don't meet someone within the first six months, we'll give you another six months free." That's right, if you've wasted your time and money on our website in a seeming eternity of desperate loneliness...hey, you'll just waste time from now on!
Their latest campaign is all about how "easy-to-use" the site is. How easy? Well, they say that you can learn via a page of hints and tips from experienced Match.com users, their "best customers". But Match.com is a service whose goal is to try to get you not to use it anymore. If you've been using Match.com long enough to figure out every detail of its web interface, then you're clearly not their "best customer"--you're someone who apparently has nothing better to do on a Friday night than figure out how to adjust your profile on a dating website. The people whose advice you want to listen to would tell you, "I dunno--I put up my information, met a nice girl/guy in about five minutes, and never needed to use the site again."
I can understand that advertising a personals service is probably difficult, as there is a bit of a stigma attached to using one, but even by those standards, Match.com has a strange, flop-sweat desperation to its ads. Still, at least it's an entertaining desperation. It could be worse. They could be the guys at "It's Just Lunch".
Later, they took to emphasizing their "six months free" promise. As in, "If you don't meet someone within the first six months, we'll give you another six months free." That's right, if you've wasted your time and money on our website in a seeming eternity of desperate loneliness...hey, you'll just waste time from now on!
Their latest campaign is all about how "easy-to-use" the site is. How easy? Well, they say that you can learn via a page of hints and tips from experienced Match.com users, their "best customers". But Match.com is a service whose goal is to try to get you not to use it anymore. If you've been using Match.com long enough to figure out every detail of its web interface, then you're clearly not their "best customer"--you're someone who apparently has nothing better to do on a Friday night than figure out how to adjust your profile on a dating website. The people whose advice you want to listen to would tell you, "I dunno--I put up my information, met a nice girl/guy in about five minutes, and never needed to use the site again."
I can understand that advertising a personals service is probably difficult, as there is a bit of a stigma attached to using one, but even by those standards, Match.com has a strange, flop-sweat desperation to its ads. Still, at least it's an entertaining desperation. It could be worse. They could be the guys at "It's Just Lunch".
Monday, June 02, 2008
Taking a Break
Taking a week off from writing (it's sort of like a vacation, except that I still have to go put in forty hours at my regular job.) So there will be no blog posts beyond this one that tells you there won't be any blog posts.
Now you see why the tag for these is "meta".
Now you see why the tag for these is "meta".
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Things Worth Checking Out: Geek Monthly
I stumbled upon 'Geek Monthly' a few months ago, when they had an article on 'Futurama: Bender's Big Score', and it really is something I want to take a moment and make sure everyone knows about, because it's great. It's not your typical "sci-fi enthusiast" sort of magazine; sure, they've got their share of stuff about the latest in science-fiction movies and TV (and video games and anime and all the "usual" geek interests), but they also cover developments in the world of science, get into weird and entertaining toys and consumer products (spray waffle batter, how awesome is that?), discuss music (everything from hip-hop to techno), and in general, 'Geek' understands better than anyone else on the stands that what separates a geek from anyone else is a restless mind eager for new ideas. We're always willing to expand our horizons, and this magazine gets that.
'Geek Monthly' is always a fun read, it's pure brain candy, and my only regret is that back issues for it are so hard to find.
'Geek Monthly' is always a fun read, it's pure brain candy, and my only regret is that back issues for it are so hard to find.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
The Two Words You Least Want To See Together
So today at work I spotted a check from the "Creative Dental Association". Is it just me, or does that sound more than a little scary and painful? I can just imagine what their meetings are like.
"OK, OK, work with me on this one, here. 'Dentistry while skydiving!'"
"I like it, it sings! But I was thinking something more snappy, something with less equipment."
"That fits perfectly in with my 'Clothing-Optional Dentistry' idea!"
"But what about cities with restrictive decency laws? No, I'm afraid we'll have to file that one with your 'Chimpanzee Dentistry' idea for now, at least until PETA gets off our back."
"Alright, alright. But getting back to my 'Dentistry-Mobile', I was thinking we could follow the ice-cream truck around neighborhoods, offer to do quick cleanings, maybe check for toothaches..."
"That's got real potential! Let's talk to our Head of Vehicular Dentistry Concepts, see what he has to say."
"Not much, I'm afraid. He was testing the 'Waterskiing Dentistry' idea we had last week, and his jaw's still going to be wired shut for a while."
"OK, OK, work with me on this one, here. 'Dentistry while skydiving!'"
"I like it, it sings! But I was thinking something more snappy, something with less equipment."
"That fits perfectly in with my 'Clothing-Optional Dentistry' idea!"
"But what about cities with restrictive decency laws? No, I'm afraid we'll have to file that one with your 'Chimpanzee Dentistry' idea for now, at least until PETA gets off our back."
"Alright, alright. But getting back to my 'Dentistry-Mobile', I was thinking we could follow the ice-cream truck around neighborhoods, offer to do quick cleanings, maybe check for toothaches..."
"That's got real potential! Let's talk to our Head of Vehicular Dentistry Concepts, see what he has to say."
"Not much, I'm afraid. He was testing the 'Waterskiing Dentistry' idea we had last week, and his jaw's still going to be wired shut for a while."
Friday, May 16, 2008
Everybody Doubts Me
Last week, I said that comics "are not a grown-up medium, they are an adolescent medium." Everyone seemed to mentally snip off the second part of the sentence and assume that this was once again me saying that comics are for kids, but in fact, the key point is that comics aren't for kids anymore either. Comics are in exactly that awkward stage we all went through in our teen years, where we were still learning what to keep and what to discard of our childhoods, and what to embrace and what to ignore for our future. Comics are not grown-up yet, and they show all the signs of going through puberty. Think about it:
1) Comics are self-absorbed. X-Men is, arguably, the single most successful comic in the last fifty years, and it's also the most "teenage". Claremont's writing was practically obsessed with the introspection of its characters, with everyone having their own trademark teenage angst to handle--Storm got a mohawk and went punk, Cyclops had a dead girlfriend and nobody understood him, Kitty kept getting told she wasn't mature enough to adventure with the team, Havok had a bigger brother who was captain of the squad and lived in his shadow...and this series has been the template for just about every single super-hero comic to follow it.
2) Comics form a tightly-knit social circle that "outsiders" just don't understand. Related, in no small part, to #1, but this is about the way that comics are all about returns of obscure characters, reinventions of old ideas, easter eggs for the fans, and similar references that reinforce the "insider-ness" for insiders, and push away outsiders. Look at Dark Horse, which has practically made a career out of creating impenetrable mythos for Buffy, Firefly, Star Wars, and Indiana Jones (and Aliens, and Predators, and...) The top three writers at DC are Mark Waid, Grant Morrison, and Geoff Johns, all of whom have a massive man-crush on the Silver Age. The top three writers at Marvel are Brian Michael Bendis, Ed Brubaker, and Jeph Loeb, all of whom have a massive man-crush on the Bronze Age. These are fans writing for fans. If you don't get it, it's because you're not supposed to.
3) Comics are obsessed with sex and violence. 'Preacher' is not an example of a grown-up medium, folks. 'Preacher' is a classic example of someone who's going overboard with the sex and violence to seem grown-up. Do I enjoy the series? Heck, yeah. But nobody is going to mistake it for 'Death of a Salesman'.
4) Comics love girls, but don't know how to talk to them. 'Gen13'. Next!
5) Comics keep insisting they're not kids anymore, and that you just don't take them seriously, and that they're mature enough now to be called an adult, but you keep treating them like a kid! See the comments section of this post.
1) Comics are self-absorbed. X-Men is, arguably, the single most successful comic in the last fifty years, and it's also the most "teenage". Claremont's writing was practically obsessed with the introspection of its characters, with everyone having their own trademark teenage angst to handle--Storm got a mohawk and went punk, Cyclops had a dead girlfriend and nobody understood him, Kitty kept getting told she wasn't mature enough to adventure with the team, Havok had a bigger brother who was captain of the squad and lived in his shadow...and this series has been the template for just about every single super-hero comic to follow it.
2) Comics form a tightly-knit social circle that "outsiders" just don't understand. Related, in no small part, to #1, but this is about the way that comics are all about returns of obscure characters, reinventions of old ideas, easter eggs for the fans, and similar references that reinforce the "insider-ness" for insiders, and push away outsiders. Look at Dark Horse, which has practically made a career out of creating impenetrable mythos for Buffy, Firefly, Star Wars, and Indiana Jones (and Aliens, and Predators, and...) The top three writers at DC are Mark Waid, Grant Morrison, and Geoff Johns, all of whom have a massive man-crush on the Silver Age. The top three writers at Marvel are Brian Michael Bendis, Ed Brubaker, and Jeph Loeb, all of whom have a massive man-crush on the Bronze Age. These are fans writing for fans. If you don't get it, it's because you're not supposed to.
3) Comics are obsessed with sex and violence. 'Preacher' is not an example of a grown-up medium, folks. 'Preacher' is a classic example of someone who's going overboard with the sex and violence to seem grown-up. Do I enjoy the series? Heck, yeah. But nobody is going to mistake it for 'Death of a Salesman'.
4) Comics love girls, but don't know how to talk to them. 'Gen13'. Next!
5) Comics keep insisting they're not kids anymore, and that you just don't take them seriously, and that they're mature enough now to be called an adult, but you keep treating them like a kid! See the comments section of this post.
Friday, May 09, 2008
Fanboy Irritation In A Nutshell
So they're bringing back Barry Allen. That's the Silver Age Flash, who died some 23 years ago saving the universe from the sinister Anti-Monitor, for those of you who might be casual comics fans. Grant Morrison, writer of 'Final Crisis' (the crossover in which he returns), is on the record as saying, "That's the point of comics - they don't have to die, because they're fictional creations. We can do anything with them, and we can make them come back and make them defy death. And that's why people read comics, to get away from the way life works, which is quite cruel and unheroic and ends in death."
Now, Morrison has taken a lot of flack from fandom as a result of this quote, but I actually support it. I might good-naturedly point out that for all his reputation as an avant garde, boundary-pushing innovator, Morrison is really just as much of a traditionalist as Mark Waid or Geoff Johns (two people who are constantly raked over the coals for rehashing old stories and writing fanwank, but who didn't bring back the Shaggy Man or Klarion the Witch-Boy. Or Barry Allen, for that matter, although it wasn't for lack of trying.) But I agree with the quote. He's right. I do read comics to spend a little time in a brighter, happier world where the good guys win and the bad guys lose, a world that isn't cruel or unheroic. I applaud Morrison for having the guts to say something unashamedly sentimental in a fan environment that currently believes that they need to leave hope and joy behind in order to be considered "grown-up". (I've said it before and I'll say it again. Comics are not a grown-up medium, they are an adolescent medium. The obsession with not being seen as "kiddie" is a clear signifier.)
So no, I'm not bothered by them bringing back the Flash, and I'm not bothered that Grant Morrison shrugs off criticism for them bringing back the Flash. What I'm bothered by is that in practically the same breath, DC makes one of the major selling points for 'Final Crisis', "Hey! We're killing off a major figure of the DC Universe, one that will absolutely shock you! You must not miss this massive, huge, epic change in the very composition of the DC Universe!!!!!!"
That's the problem perfectly encapsulated. When they think change will sell comics, they insist that it's vitally important that you pay attention to these changes and buy the comics involved. When they're no longer interested in dealing with the problems these changes have made, they switch everything back and insist that nobody should put too much emphasis on 'change', that it's really just all about telling good stories and hey, you like these characters anyway, right? It is not the change or the impermanence of change that bothers us, it is the hypocrisy involved. It is the fact that I frequently bought lousy comics because I was told I would need to have them to follow the overall story of the DC Universe, only to have them back away from the changes but somehow manage to keep my money in their wallet. Lots of people can't articulate that irritation, but they all feel it.
You want to bring back the Flash? Knock yourself out. You want to openly admit that no matter how graphic, how inescapable, how brutal a character's death is, you're eventually going to bring them back anyway? Good for you, it's a great first step. But could you please do us all the service of not continuing to lie about how "important" death in comics is in order to take my money?
Now, Morrison has taken a lot of flack from fandom as a result of this quote, but I actually support it. I might good-naturedly point out that for all his reputation as an avant garde, boundary-pushing innovator, Morrison is really just as much of a traditionalist as Mark Waid or Geoff Johns (two people who are constantly raked over the coals for rehashing old stories and writing fanwank, but who didn't bring back the Shaggy Man or Klarion the Witch-Boy. Or Barry Allen, for that matter, although it wasn't for lack of trying.) But I agree with the quote. He's right. I do read comics to spend a little time in a brighter, happier world where the good guys win and the bad guys lose, a world that isn't cruel or unheroic. I applaud Morrison for having the guts to say something unashamedly sentimental in a fan environment that currently believes that they need to leave hope and joy behind in order to be considered "grown-up". (I've said it before and I'll say it again. Comics are not a grown-up medium, they are an adolescent medium. The obsession with not being seen as "kiddie" is a clear signifier.)
So no, I'm not bothered by them bringing back the Flash, and I'm not bothered that Grant Morrison shrugs off criticism for them bringing back the Flash. What I'm bothered by is that in practically the same breath, DC makes one of the major selling points for 'Final Crisis', "Hey! We're killing off a major figure of the DC Universe, one that will absolutely shock you! You must not miss this massive, huge, epic change in the very composition of the DC Universe!!!!!!"
That's the problem perfectly encapsulated. When they think change will sell comics, they insist that it's vitally important that you pay attention to these changes and buy the comics involved. When they're no longer interested in dealing with the problems these changes have made, they switch everything back and insist that nobody should put too much emphasis on 'change', that it's really just all about telling good stories and hey, you like these characters anyway, right? It is not the change or the impermanence of change that bothers us, it is the hypocrisy involved. It is the fact that I frequently bought lousy comics because I was told I would need to have them to follow the overall story of the DC Universe, only to have them back away from the changes but somehow manage to keep my money in their wallet. Lots of people can't articulate that irritation, but they all feel it.
You want to bring back the Flash? Knock yourself out. You want to openly admit that no matter how graphic, how inescapable, how brutal a character's death is, you're eventually going to bring them back anyway? Good for you, it's a great first step. But could you please do us all the service of not continuing to lie about how "important" death in comics is in order to take my money?
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Friendly Warning To Battlestar Galactica Fans
Don't bring the series up around me. Don't recommend it to me, don't tell me about it, don't mention it. Because I will say things that will make you cry.
My room-mate's been watching it, and every time I walked by the computer screen, I heard things that made me grind my teeth in sheer bilious hatred. Every time he explained an element of the backstory to me, I found myself staring into plot holes that could consume whole planets. I found myself wondering how anyone, not just the series' writers but anyone at all could read these scripts and not say, "No, sorry, you need to rework this so that it actually makes sense as a story in its own right and not simply as a tortured analogy for post-9/11 America."
I could go on, but that would defeat the purpose of the friendly warning, and probably make some people cry, to boot. And I don't want to do that. I am a kind person, and I know how attached science-fiction fans get to their favorite shows. I don't want to tear your favorite series to pieces in front of you, ripping it to shreds by pointing out all its absurdities.
So we'll make a deal. You don't talk about Battlestar Galactica to me, and I won't flaunt my hatred of it to you. Sound good? OK.
(Oh, and Dane Cook fans? This goes double for you. Man couldn't find a punchline if it had a neon sign over it...)
My room-mate's been watching it, and every time I walked by the computer screen, I heard things that made me grind my teeth in sheer bilious hatred. Every time he explained an element of the backstory to me, I found myself staring into plot holes that could consume whole planets. I found myself wondering how anyone, not just the series' writers but anyone at all could read these scripts and not say, "No, sorry, you need to rework this so that it actually makes sense as a story in its own right and not simply as a tortured analogy for post-9/11 America."
I could go on, but that would defeat the purpose of the friendly warning, and probably make some people cry, to boot. And I don't want to do that. I am a kind person, and I know how attached science-fiction fans get to their favorite shows. I don't want to tear your favorite series to pieces in front of you, ripping it to shreds by pointing out all its absurdities.
So we'll make a deal. You don't talk about Battlestar Galactica to me, and I won't flaunt my hatred of it to you. Sound good? OK.
(Oh, and Dane Cook fans? This goes double for you. Man couldn't find a punchline if it had a neon sign over it...)
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