Has anyone else noticed a major reversal of roles in this year's Presidential campaign?
I mean, normally by this point, we'd have seen at least one prominent Democrat going on 'Meet the Press' (or equivalent program) to decry the Republican's unethical "dirty tricks", and their talking-head counterpart from across the aisle delivering a message of "hey, everybody does it, it's just part of campaigning, and if you can't take the heat stay out of the kitchen." It's been a ritual from 1980 ("welfare queens") to 1988 ("Willie Horton") to 2000 ("invented the Internet"...or, if you're paying attention as early as the primaries, "illegitimate black baby") to 2004 ("Swift Boat") to 2008 ("secret Muslim"). But this time, it's the Republicans who are shocked--shocked, I say!--that the other side isn't conducting themselves with proper decorum. They're upset that their candidate's finances, previous political decisions, and career are campaign issues, when everyone knows that the focus should be on the other guy. Unsurprisingly, that's not been much of a persuasive argument, but why is it happening?
I think that for one thing, this is the first time in a long while that the Republicans have put forward a really bad candidate. This isn't to say that they haven't put forward poor Presidents before...one of the ugly things about democracy is that it takes different skillsets to run for office than to actually govern, and not everyone has both...but Reagan and the Bushes were savvy campaigners. They knew how to turn on the charisma in front of the cameras, they knew how to set and frame a narrative, and they knew how to deflect attention from their shortcomings. Romney...doesn't have that. His attempts to be charming come off as awkward and stilted, his efforts at framing a narrative (Obama's not the person to help America out of the hole created by the Mystery Person Between Clinton and Obama Who Was Probably A Democrat Or Something) sound like shrill appeals to racism and stupidity, and his response to questions like, "Why didn't you thank the troops at your convention?" was, "I wanted to talk about important things instead." This man is fundamentally inept at the basic business of getting into office.
And that's a real problem, because the other thing is that for all his "nice guy" image, Barack Obama is a very ruthless campaigner. He's excellent at framing a narrative (his treatment of McCain in 2008 is the kind of thing they should write textbooks about. Not only did his criticisms of McCain as "erratic" ring true, they also prevented McCain from making any kind of game-changing decision in the later stages of the campaign.) He's very personable. And yes, he's very good at getting the media trained on Romney's tax returns instead of the unemployment rate (assuming, of course, that you blame Obama for that and not the Mystery Person That Republicans Pretend Never Existed.)
And that, I think, is why you're seeing such howls of protest from the Republicans. Because after years of socking the other guy in the balls whenever the ref isn't looking, their candidate just walked into the ring and said, "By the way, I'd just like to announce that I'm not wearing a cup!" They're vulnerable and someone's actually taking advantage of it, and they're finding out pretty quick that they can dish it out, but they can't take it. And speaking as a lifelong Democrat...it's just part of campaigning, and if you can't take the heat stay out of the kitchen.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Thursday, September 06, 2012
How Big Is Too Big?
Hi all! Sorry I went incommunicado for a while, but I went pretty much directly from one of those "two-day intensive courses" (I'm now certified in USPAP, though! For those of you who know what that means...) to preparation for DragonCon to DragonCon to recovering from DragonCon. That left very little time for blogging, especially as I didn't bring my laptop on the trip.
For those of you who've never been to DragonCon, it's one of the larger conventions out there, although still a pretty distant second from San Diego Comic-Con. In 2011, it drew 46,000, and it's only getting bigger. When I went for the first time, back in 2001, it was probably closer to 20,000. Needless to say, that's a pretty big gang of people crowded into one convention. And yet, it'll probably be even larger next year. Is that a good thing?
On the one hand, it's still fun. Every year, a bigger draw means more people doing cosplay, more money coming in to attract more and bigger guests, more parties, and more friends coming. Capping membership cuts people out of the experience, no matter how the cap is handled (first come first serve, lottery, et cetera.) Who wants to be the one person in your group of friends who doesn't get to go? On the other hand, expansion can't be continued indefinitely. Already, the logistics of simple day-to-day operations during the con are becoming virtually insoluble problems; elevator capacity is at its limits 24/7 for the entirety of the con, walkways are congested to potentially dangerous levels (the fire marshall for Atlanta is practically on a first-name basis with the DragonCon organizers, except that they probably only address each other in four-letter words) and lines stretch around the block for practically every panel. Moving the con from one hotel to five does reduce congestion to some extent, but there still tends to be a "hub" mentality centered on the Hyatt (the original site of the con), and lateral expansion produces its own set of challenges, as you now have to walk a block and a half between panels that don't get spaced any further out in time.
Ultimately, a decision is going to have to be made to cap membership...and I suspect that the con organizers might be nearing that point. If it gets up into the 80,000 range or higher, just walking around the con is going to become a logistical nightmare, let alone things like getting food, sleeping, and oh yes that business of actually enjoying yourself at the convention. It's the kind of decision that I'm glad I don't have to make, because no matter how you slice it, someone's going to be unhappy. But I'd be surprised if they can go five years without having to put a limit on the number of badges they can sell at the rate they're expanding. SDCC has already had to cap its attendance, and while they don't have the ability to expand laterally from the convention center like DragonCon, that kind of expansion can't go on forever.
I'll be kind of sad, I think, when it gets to the point that I can't go every year because I missed my chance. But lucky for me, there's always another convention out there, I wonder if registration is open yet for CONvergence?
For those of you who've never been to DragonCon, it's one of the larger conventions out there, although still a pretty distant second from San Diego Comic-Con. In 2011, it drew 46,000, and it's only getting bigger. When I went for the first time, back in 2001, it was probably closer to 20,000. Needless to say, that's a pretty big gang of people crowded into one convention. And yet, it'll probably be even larger next year. Is that a good thing?
On the one hand, it's still fun. Every year, a bigger draw means more people doing cosplay, more money coming in to attract more and bigger guests, more parties, and more friends coming. Capping membership cuts people out of the experience, no matter how the cap is handled (first come first serve, lottery, et cetera.) Who wants to be the one person in your group of friends who doesn't get to go? On the other hand, expansion can't be continued indefinitely. Already, the logistics of simple day-to-day operations during the con are becoming virtually insoluble problems; elevator capacity is at its limits 24/7 for the entirety of the con, walkways are congested to potentially dangerous levels (the fire marshall for Atlanta is practically on a first-name basis with the DragonCon organizers, except that they probably only address each other in four-letter words) and lines stretch around the block for practically every panel. Moving the con from one hotel to five does reduce congestion to some extent, but there still tends to be a "hub" mentality centered on the Hyatt (the original site of the con), and lateral expansion produces its own set of challenges, as you now have to walk a block and a half between panels that don't get spaced any further out in time.
Ultimately, a decision is going to have to be made to cap membership...and I suspect that the con organizers might be nearing that point. If it gets up into the 80,000 range or higher, just walking around the con is going to become a logistical nightmare, let alone things like getting food, sleeping, and oh yes that business of actually enjoying yourself at the convention. It's the kind of decision that I'm glad I don't have to make, because no matter how you slice it, someone's going to be unhappy. But I'd be surprised if they can go five years without having to put a limit on the number of badges they can sell at the rate they're expanding. SDCC has already had to cap its attendance, and while they don't have the ability to expand laterally from the convention center like DragonCon, that kind of expansion can't go on forever.
I'll be kind of sad, I think, when it gets to the point that I can't go every year because I missed my chance. But lucky for me, there's always another convention out there, I wonder if registration is open yet for CONvergence?
Monday, August 20, 2012
Voter ID Laws Made Simple
To understand the voter ID laws currently being proposed and implemented in many states, it's important to first understand the problem: Voter fraud. Voter fraud is, essentially, any effort to rig the election in order to make sure it doesn't represent an accurate total of votes from the citizens of the country in question, usually to the benefit of the fraudster.
Voter fraud takes two basic forms. The first is the casting of additional ballots for one candidate that are not legitimate, inflating the total number of votes for that candidate to give them an edge. (Known as "stuffing the ballot-box" in some circles, as the oldest and most primitive form of the practice involved literally shoving fake ballots into the boxes used for counting.)
The second is the denial or destruction of legitimate votes cast for one's opposition, in order to artificially deflate the vote totals against the fraudster and give them an edge. Sometimes this is done through literal destruction or shredding of ballots, but most often it takes the form of erecting a (literal or metaphorical) fraudulent barrier to voting. For example, a fraudster might circulate a flyer among their opponent's supporters stating an incorrect time or place for polling, hoping to fool those supporters out of casting legitimate votes.
Currently, Republicans are claiming that the best way to prevent voter fraud of the first type (illegal additional ballots cast) is to erect a (metaphorical) barrier to voting, in the form of stringent requirements for voter ID. These requirements are estimated to prevent somewhere in the neighborhood of three thousand times as many legitimate votes from being cast as they will stop illegitimate votes from going through. (Depending on which estimates are used. Some estimates suggest that the number may be as high as thirty thousand, not three thousand.) Coincidentally, these legitimate ballots generally belong to demographic groups that vote overwhelmingly Democratic.
So to make it very simple: Republicans are currently insisting it's better to commit voter fraud 30,000 times over in ways that benefit them than to stand by and allow 10 cases of voter fraud that may benefit their opponents...or them.
What's complicated is why anyone believes these crooks anymore.
Voter fraud takes two basic forms. The first is the casting of additional ballots for one candidate that are not legitimate, inflating the total number of votes for that candidate to give them an edge. (Known as "stuffing the ballot-box" in some circles, as the oldest and most primitive form of the practice involved literally shoving fake ballots into the boxes used for counting.)
The second is the denial or destruction of legitimate votes cast for one's opposition, in order to artificially deflate the vote totals against the fraudster and give them an edge. Sometimes this is done through literal destruction or shredding of ballots, but most often it takes the form of erecting a (literal or metaphorical) fraudulent barrier to voting. For example, a fraudster might circulate a flyer among their opponent's supporters stating an incorrect time or place for polling, hoping to fool those supporters out of casting legitimate votes.
Currently, Republicans are claiming that the best way to prevent voter fraud of the first type (illegal additional ballots cast) is to erect a (metaphorical) barrier to voting, in the form of stringent requirements for voter ID. These requirements are estimated to prevent somewhere in the neighborhood of three thousand times as many legitimate votes from being cast as they will stop illegitimate votes from going through. (Depending on which estimates are used. Some estimates suggest that the number may be as high as thirty thousand, not three thousand.) Coincidentally, these legitimate ballots generally belong to demographic groups that vote overwhelmingly Democratic.
So to make it very simple: Republicans are currently insisting it's better to commit voter fraud 30,000 times over in ways that benefit them than to stand by and allow 10 cases of voter fraud that may benefit their opponents...or them.
What's complicated is why anyone believes these crooks anymore.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Dalek Vs. Jedi
I was asked about this a day or two ago, in my (apparent) capacity as expert on both Daleks and Jedi...and while it may be egotistical of me, I thought that people might be interested in my response. In a battle between a Dalek and a Jedi, who would win?
The specific question I was asked to weigh in on at first was, "Would a Dalek be affected by a Jedi's telekinesis?" This seems like a pretty good place to start, as telekinesis is one of the best weapons in a Jedi's arsenal. (Which brings up the question of why they never use it in lightsaber duels, but I'm willing to handwave that away with the assumption that equally matched Jedi either keep each other too busy with lightsaber attacks for either to bring to mind the requisite TK focus, or equally matched Jedi can block each other's telekinesis through some sort of non-visually-discernable means. I bring this up to demonstrate that I can BS with the best of them.)
The answer, I felt, is that yes, Daleks are somewhat vulnerable to Jedi telekinesis. Not totally--I think a Dalek's armor/force field, generally demonstrated to be proof against most projectile weapons, is too tough to be crushed or warped by a Jedi's telekinetic powers. Likewise, Jedi abilities have never been shown to be able to work through solid objects, so the Kaled mutant inside is probably safe from having its life-support tubes yanked out or something similar. But could a Jedi knock a Dalek over, or spoil its aim by moving the gunstick around? Yes.
Which is probably a good thing, because Dalek weaponry is generally portrayed as being not a cutting beam or a projectile, but a packet of energy that "detonates" on contact, creating a disruptive (or possibly explosive) effect that scrambles internal organs and bursts cells. In other words, the Jedi tactic of batting aside blaster bolts would be about as effective as using a baseball bat to deflect a Molotov cocktail. The first Jedi to fight the first Dalek would probably be in for a nasty surprise.
The second one, though, would probably fare better. Telekinesis could keep the Dalek's gunstick pointing in the wrong direction (or spin the Dalek's middle section around to face away) long enough for the Jedi to get into lightsaber range...and lightsabers, traditionally speaking, have been shown to be able to cut through anything. (We could argue the strength of the force-field at the lightsaber's core versus the strength of the force-field surrounding the Dalek (as exhibited in 'Doomsday', natch) but it'd be a moot point. There's not enough evidence to judge, and writerly fiat would trump real-world physics here.) So basically, the Jedi could slice up the Dalek like a layer cake, albeit a large one with a very hideous exotic dancer inside.
So the answer is ultimately "yes". After a particularly hideous casualty to serve as a tactical lesson, a Jedi could take on a Dalek. The only problem is...there's very rarely just "a" Dalek. The Dalek philosophy tends to be, "Why send in a Dalek when you can send in two thousand Daleks to do the same job?" They're also not shy on using strategies that involve expendable Dalek troops. So after the first few Daleks bite it, the Daleks are either going to attack in numbers too massive for the Jedi to deal with, or they're just going to start self-destructing whenever a Jedi gets close to them and banking on the fact that they have more Daleks than the Jedi do Jedi. ("Jedi Do Jedi" is, of course, a fanfilm that Lucas came down pretty hard on with the cease and desists.)
If you want, you can factor in the Jedi Mind Trick, but let's face it--the Jedi Mind Trick never works in the big fights. In 'Feng Shui' terms, it succeeds against unnamed characters only. Random Dalek that you have to distract so that you can sneak past? Weak-willed. Angry Dalek exploding six inches away from you? Bad news for the Jedi.
Ultimately, I think that the Daleks would win through overwhelming force, which is pretty much did in the Jedi order last time, too. Be fun to watch, though.
The specific question I was asked to weigh in on at first was, "Would a Dalek be affected by a Jedi's telekinesis?" This seems like a pretty good place to start, as telekinesis is one of the best weapons in a Jedi's arsenal. (Which brings up the question of why they never use it in lightsaber duels, but I'm willing to handwave that away with the assumption that equally matched Jedi either keep each other too busy with lightsaber attacks for either to bring to mind the requisite TK focus, or equally matched Jedi can block each other's telekinesis through some sort of non-visually-discernable means. I bring this up to demonstrate that I can BS with the best of them.)
The answer, I felt, is that yes, Daleks are somewhat vulnerable to Jedi telekinesis. Not totally--I think a Dalek's armor/force field, generally demonstrated to be proof against most projectile weapons, is too tough to be crushed or warped by a Jedi's telekinetic powers. Likewise, Jedi abilities have never been shown to be able to work through solid objects, so the Kaled mutant inside is probably safe from having its life-support tubes yanked out or something similar. But could a Jedi knock a Dalek over, or spoil its aim by moving the gunstick around? Yes.
Which is probably a good thing, because Dalek weaponry is generally portrayed as being not a cutting beam or a projectile, but a packet of energy that "detonates" on contact, creating a disruptive (or possibly explosive) effect that scrambles internal organs and bursts cells. In other words, the Jedi tactic of batting aside blaster bolts would be about as effective as using a baseball bat to deflect a Molotov cocktail. The first Jedi to fight the first Dalek would probably be in for a nasty surprise.
The second one, though, would probably fare better. Telekinesis could keep the Dalek's gunstick pointing in the wrong direction (or spin the Dalek's middle section around to face away) long enough for the Jedi to get into lightsaber range...and lightsabers, traditionally speaking, have been shown to be able to cut through anything. (We could argue the strength of the force-field at the lightsaber's core versus the strength of the force-field surrounding the Dalek (as exhibited in 'Doomsday', natch) but it'd be a moot point. There's not enough evidence to judge, and writerly fiat would trump real-world physics here.) So basically, the Jedi could slice up the Dalek like a layer cake, albeit a large one with a very hideous exotic dancer inside.
So the answer is ultimately "yes". After a particularly hideous casualty to serve as a tactical lesson, a Jedi could take on a Dalek. The only problem is...there's very rarely just "a" Dalek. The Dalek philosophy tends to be, "Why send in a Dalek when you can send in two thousand Daleks to do the same job?" They're also not shy on using strategies that involve expendable Dalek troops. So after the first few Daleks bite it, the Daleks are either going to attack in numbers too massive for the Jedi to deal with, or they're just going to start self-destructing whenever a Jedi gets close to them and banking on the fact that they have more Daleks than the Jedi do Jedi. ("Jedi Do Jedi" is, of course, a fanfilm that Lucas came down pretty hard on with the cease and desists.)
If you want, you can factor in the Jedi Mind Trick, but let's face it--the Jedi Mind Trick never works in the big fights. In 'Feng Shui' terms, it succeeds against unnamed characters only. Random Dalek that you have to distract so that you can sneak past? Weak-willed. Angry Dalek exploding six inches away from you? Bad news for the Jedi.
Ultimately, I think that the Daleks would win through overwhelming force, which is pretty much did in the Jedi order last time, too. Be fun to watch, though.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Self-Taught Superheroes, Part Seventeen
(Bet you thought I'd forgotten about this, huh?)
It's probably worth noting that this is the point where I have to stop telling you about my dream about the first time we teamed up as superheroes and start just telling you what happened. Because in my dream, after the lights went out, I suddenly realized I was in a haunted house filled with angry telepathic frogs, and that's not really even close to what came next. (I mention it now because it'll explain why I woke up yelling, "Don't crawl down my shirt!" But that's for later.)
In fact, once the lights went out, all we could see was Captain Light. He actually glows when he's using his powers. It's a sort of soft, golden light. It kind of made him a big target, but he didn't mind. He flew into the nearest group of soldiers like a battering ram, sending them scattering like bowling pins. The flashes were almost blinding every time his fists connected--I'm not sure what kind of energy he discharges when he punches, but it packs a wallop. The big war machines weren't moving in on him, either because they were afraid to hit their teammates or because the power failure had affected them too, and those sonic guns that they carried didn't affect him very much.
Meanwhile, that force field curtain that was protecting Lord Raptor had gone down. I made a dash for him--I was having to move a little slow because of the poor light, but I was still faster than any human being alive. I hit him with about 130 pounds of teenage girl while he was still backing away from the table, and he went sprawling. Before I could start laying into him, though, John Q. Public had closed the difference. "Don't beat him up too bad," he said. "He needs to show us where the hostages are."
I nodded, then sprinted over to where Captain Light was wading through the crowd. (I admit, I took about five seconds to kick some heads in on my way. We all help in our own little way.) "Canyoukeepthemdistracted?BecauseI'mgoingtogowiththatJohnQ.Publicguytofindthehostagesandhelpfreethem!" I asked. (For the record, this was officially the first time I forgot that I can talk too fast for other people to understand.)
Captain Light stared at me in mute incomprehension for a moment. "Um..." A guy came charging out of the darkness, wielding something that looked like the offspring of a lightsaber and a naginata. (Did I mention I play D&D?) Captain Light ducked under his thrust and laid him out with an uppercut that left him in a different time-zone. "Whatever you just said, it'll have to wait, okay? You need to find the hostages. I'll hold these guys off."
I think I'm a pretty impressive person for biting my tongue and doing it.
I regrouped with John Q. Public, and the two of us manhandled Lord Raptor to the door. Captain Light stayed about ten steps behind us, giving enough light for us to see while still keeping himself between the bulk of the troops and the exit. John and I did our part to make sure that anyone unlucky enough to be in our way found out that the six-foot tall glowing guy wasn't the only dangerous thing in the room. (Go Team Small and Feisty! Well, okay, John's about five-eleven, but "Go Team People Who Don't Glow!" just doesn't have the same ring to it.)
Once we were in the corridors, things got easier. Captain Light was able to hold the soldiers back a lot better when they were in a smaller space, and things were clearly way too disorganized for them to circle round. (We found out later that Neutrino Man had made a device that was jamming their comlinks. I think the lesson here is never give a fully-equipped lab to a person who's way smarter than you are and being held against your will. Thirteen percent of superhero origins would not happen if bad guys just followed that simple rule.
Lord Raptor didn't give us any trouble, surprisingly enough. He had this slightly shellshocked look on his face, and he just pointed mutely down hallways when prompted. I think, looking back, that it was probably a mix of legitimate panic and confusion (for a guy with so many contingency plans he had them numbered and lettered, a lot of stuff was getting out of control) and him biding his time until his soldiers could get the power back up and regain the advantage through sheer force of numbers. Besides, we were taking him to the hostages...and the hostages were under heavy guard, by his own express instructions. All we could possibly be doing was taking him closer and closer to his own reinforcements.
He must have gotten a pretty nasty shock when we burst into the holding cells and found a bunch of unconscious guards, and two other superheroes.
TO BE CONTINUED...
It's probably worth noting that this is the point where I have to stop telling you about my dream about the first time we teamed up as superheroes and start just telling you what happened. Because in my dream, after the lights went out, I suddenly realized I was in a haunted house filled with angry telepathic frogs, and that's not really even close to what came next. (I mention it now because it'll explain why I woke up yelling, "Don't crawl down my shirt!" But that's for later.)
In fact, once the lights went out, all we could see was Captain Light. He actually glows when he's using his powers. It's a sort of soft, golden light. It kind of made him a big target, but he didn't mind. He flew into the nearest group of soldiers like a battering ram, sending them scattering like bowling pins. The flashes were almost blinding every time his fists connected--I'm not sure what kind of energy he discharges when he punches, but it packs a wallop. The big war machines weren't moving in on him, either because they were afraid to hit their teammates or because the power failure had affected them too, and those sonic guns that they carried didn't affect him very much.
Meanwhile, that force field curtain that was protecting Lord Raptor had gone down. I made a dash for him--I was having to move a little slow because of the poor light, but I was still faster than any human being alive. I hit him with about 130 pounds of teenage girl while he was still backing away from the table, and he went sprawling. Before I could start laying into him, though, John Q. Public had closed the difference. "Don't beat him up too bad," he said. "He needs to show us where the hostages are."
I nodded, then sprinted over to where Captain Light was wading through the crowd. (I admit, I took about five seconds to kick some heads in on my way. We all help in our own little way.) "Canyoukeepthemdistracted?BecauseI'mgoingtogowiththatJohnQ.Publicguytofindthehostagesandhelpfreethem!" I asked. (For the record, this was officially the first time I forgot that I can talk too fast for other people to understand.)
Captain Light stared at me in mute incomprehension for a moment. "Um..." A guy came charging out of the darkness, wielding something that looked like the offspring of a lightsaber and a naginata. (Did I mention I play D&D?) Captain Light ducked under his thrust and laid him out with an uppercut that left him in a different time-zone. "Whatever you just said, it'll have to wait, okay? You need to find the hostages. I'll hold these guys off."
I think I'm a pretty impressive person for biting my tongue and doing it.
I regrouped with John Q. Public, and the two of us manhandled Lord Raptor to the door. Captain Light stayed about ten steps behind us, giving enough light for us to see while still keeping himself between the bulk of the troops and the exit. John and I did our part to make sure that anyone unlucky enough to be in our way found out that the six-foot tall glowing guy wasn't the only dangerous thing in the room. (Go Team Small and Feisty! Well, okay, John's about five-eleven, but "Go Team People Who Don't Glow!" just doesn't have the same ring to it.)
Once we were in the corridors, things got easier. Captain Light was able to hold the soldiers back a lot better when they were in a smaller space, and things were clearly way too disorganized for them to circle round. (We found out later that Neutrino Man had made a device that was jamming their comlinks. I think the lesson here is never give a fully-equipped lab to a person who's way smarter than you are and being held against your will. Thirteen percent of superhero origins would not happen if bad guys just followed that simple rule.
Lord Raptor didn't give us any trouble, surprisingly enough. He had this slightly shellshocked look on his face, and he just pointed mutely down hallways when prompted. I think, looking back, that it was probably a mix of legitimate panic and confusion (for a guy with so many contingency plans he had them numbered and lettered, a lot of stuff was getting out of control) and him biding his time until his soldiers could get the power back up and regain the advantage through sheer force of numbers. Besides, we were taking him to the hostages...and the hostages were under heavy guard, by his own express instructions. All we could possibly be doing was taking him closer and closer to his own reinforcements.
He must have gotten a pretty nasty shock when we burst into the holding cells and found a bunch of unconscious guards, and two other superheroes.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Friday, August 10, 2012
Confessions of a Comic-Book Refugee
I've had a shocking realization creep up on me over the last year or so. It really began to hit me during CONvergence, the sci-fi con I attended in July, but it's been slowly building ever since about 2007. I've been trying to deny it for a long time, but I think it's about time I admitted it.
I don't think I'm a comic book fan anymore.
It's weird to say that, given that I'm currently reading 'The Essential Hulk, Volume 6', having just polished off 'The Essential Captain America, Volume 5', and looking forward to the next Marvel movie...but I mean it in the sense of "following the events of the Marvel and DC Universe on a regular or even semi-regular basis." I'm sure I'll still read individual comic books--the medium isn't dead to me--but I can't imagine going back to Marvel or DC anymore. Even if I had the kind of unlimited finances that you'd need to buy the endless cat's cradle of crossovers and tie-ins and "summer events", I don't care anymore. I don't even want to know anymore, because hearing about DC's new zero issues or Earth-Two or AvX just makes me kind of sad and achy, like hearing about a friend you used to know who's in jail for dealing heroin and is HIV-positive. When I talk to comics fans about comics, I find that I just don't have a common interest with them anymore. And I'll admit, I never thought that would happen.
I think it started, as I said, back in 2007. I'd been in and out of the hobby for a while, starting back in 2002; I'd made the jump from floppies to trades, and it's only when you're not hitting the store every week to get the new fix that you step back and realize how much you're buying out of habit. When you evaluate each series in terms of, "Do I want a whole other book of this?", you find that the answer is "no" a whole lot more often than it was when you were just buying 32 more pages. I bought less and less until I was buying pretty much nothing for a year or two. And once you're not visiting the store every week, it's like comics become invisible to you. When I did go into a comics store, I didn't even know what was popular. The sad truth of comics marketing is that it's far easier to leave the hobby right now than it is to rejoin it.
...and then, in 2005, I found myself drawn back into the weekly grind. It started with morbid curiosity--I went for a visit to my local comics store, just to see what was happening, and wound up buying an issue of 'Infinite Crisis' just to convince myself that they were really doing it. That turned into the seeds of an idea for a book on the crossover phenomenon, from 'Crisis' to 'Crisis' in DC and 'Secret War' to 'Civil War' at Marvel...and while I was researching the book, I got back into the habit of buying. And following. I picked up all the 'Civil War' tie-ins, followed the follow-ups, read '52', and started in on 'Countdown' and 'World War Hulk'...
And then one day it hit me. This was all really terrible, and I was spending all my money on it. Marvel had gone from a crossover where the Scarlet Witch was the villain to one where the Scarlet Witch was the villain again to one where Iron Man was the villain (or Captain America, as Mark Millar unconvincingly insisted) to one where the Hulk was the villain. The heroes were all acting like villains and the villains were all acting like villains, to the point where I didn't actually like anyone I was reading about. Meanwhile, 'Countdown' was infamously terrible, and 'Amazons Attack' was notoriously inept as well. I could not imagine enjoying any of this stuff anymore.
And so I stopped buying it. But I still followed it all. Wikipedia, Newsarama, CBR...I still paid attention, even as I wrote endlessly about classic comics on this blog and realized I derived more enjoyment from comics written decades before my birth than I could ever get from the current crop of stories. Every time I read about a new crossover, a new event, a new reboot or preboot or softboot or retcon or prestconbootventover, it just made me irritated.
And then, at CONvergence, at a panel on the DC reboot, it finally hit me. I didn't care anymore. I didn't even care about it enough for it to anger me, unless it was right there in front of me. I was in the room, but all I could think about was how I had nothing to say to these people. We weren't speaking a common language, because I wasn't buying or reading or interested in any of the stuff they were talking about. Even the good books by creators I liked (like Paul Cornell) didn't interest me. The friend had died in prison, I'd sent a condolence card to the family, and I had moved on. 'Avengers vs. X-Men'? 'Marvel Now'? Just the corpse twitching in a lifelike manner.
And on the flip side...there were the movies. I have found myself eagerly devouring casting news, announcements of new projects, trailers and set photos and rumors. The apathy and vague depression that I feel when I hear about Marvel's comics stands in even starker contrast compared to my excitement and sheer joy over the films. I'm still a super-hero fan, just as much as ever. Maybe even more so. But there are other places for me to get that fix, ones that don't involve pointless misogyny and flailing desperation and endless, pathetic attempts to seem "mature" by rehashing themes that felt warmed over 25 years ago. (And in some cases not just themes, DC, I'm looking right at you and your 'Before Watchmen'...)
I'm now a refugee from the world of comics, taking up a new home in the world of movies and TV shows and reprints about the characters I love. It's kind of a relief to get that off my chest. I hope that those of you who are still comics fans won't think less of me for not being able to get excited about your hobby anymore. And I hope those of you who share this feeling will join me over here, where we're all eagerly awaiting 'Cap 2' and 'Iron Man 3' and 'Ant-Man' and 'Guardians of the Galaxy'...and where we're all hoping that someday, DC will get its act together and give us something to love the same way.
I used to be a comics fan. And while I still love a lot of individual comics...I don't think I am anymore.
I don't think I'm a comic book fan anymore.
It's weird to say that, given that I'm currently reading 'The Essential Hulk, Volume 6', having just polished off 'The Essential Captain America, Volume 5', and looking forward to the next Marvel movie...but I mean it in the sense of "following the events of the Marvel and DC Universe on a regular or even semi-regular basis." I'm sure I'll still read individual comic books--the medium isn't dead to me--but I can't imagine going back to Marvel or DC anymore. Even if I had the kind of unlimited finances that you'd need to buy the endless cat's cradle of crossovers and tie-ins and "summer events", I don't care anymore. I don't even want to know anymore, because hearing about DC's new zero issues or Earth-Two or AvX just makes me kind of sad and achy, like hearing about a friend you used to know who's in jail for dealing heroin and is HIV-positive. When I talk to comics fans about comics, I find that I just don't have a common interest with them anymore. And I'll admit, I never thought that would happen.
I think it started, as I said, back in 2007. I'd been in and out of the hobby for a while, starting back in 2002; I'd made the jump from floppies to trades, and it's only when you're not hitting the store every week to get the new fix that you step back and realize how much you're buying out of habit. When you evaluate each series in terms of, "Do I want a whole other book of this?", you find that the answer is "no" a whole lot more often than it was when you were just buying 32 more pages. I bought less and less until I was buying pretty much nothing for a year or two. And once you're not visiting the store every week, it's like comics become invisible to you. When I did go into a comics store, I didn't even know what was popular. The sad truth of comics marketing is that it's far easier to leave the hobby right now than it is to rejoin it.
...and then, in 2005, I found myself drawn back into the weekly grind. It started with morbid curiosity--I went for a visit to my local comics store, just to see what was happening, and wound up buying an issue of 'Infinite Crisis' just to convince myself that they were really doing it. That turned into the seeds of an idea for a book on the crossover phenomenon, from 'Crisis' to 'Crisis' in DC and 'Secret War' to 'Civil War' at Marvel...and while I was researching the book, I got back into the habit of buying. And following. I picked up all the 'Civil War' tie-ins, followed the follow-ups, read '52', and started in on 'Countdown' and 'World War Hulk'...
And then one day it hit me. This was all really terrible, and I was spending all my money on it. Marvel had gone from a crossover where the Scarlet Witch was the villain to one where the Scarlet Witch was the villain again to one where Iron Man was the villain (or Captain America, as Mark Millar unconvincingly insisted) to one where the Hulk was the villain. The heroes were all acting like villains and the villains were all acting like villains, to the point where I didn't actually like anyone I was reading about. Meanwhile, 'Countdown' was infamously terrible, and 'Amazons Attack' was notoriously inept as well. I could not imagine enjoying any of this stuff anymore.
And so I stopped buying it. But I still followed it all. Wikipedia, Newsarama, CBR...I still paid attention, even as I wrote endlessly about classic comics on this blog and realized I derived more enjoyment from comics written decades before my birth than I could ever get from the current crop of stories. Every time I read about a new crossover, a new event, a new reboot or preboot or softboot or retcon or prestconbootventover, it just made me irritated.
And then, at CONvergence, at a panel on the DC reboot, it finally hit me. I didn't care anymore. I didn't even care about it enough for it to anger me, unless it was right there in front of me. I was in the room, but all I could think about was how I had nothing to say to these people. We weren't speaking a common language, because I wasn't buying or reading or interested in any of the stuff they were talking about. Even the good books by creators I liked (like Paul Cornell) didn't interest me. The friend had died in prison, I'd sent a condolence card to the family, and I had moved on. 'Avengers vs. X-Men'? 'Marvel Now'? Just the corpse twitching in a lifelike manner.
And on the flip side...there were the movies. I have found myself eagerly devouring casting news, announcements of new projects, trailers and set photos and rumors. The apathy and vague depression that I feel when I hear about Marvel's comics stands in even starker contrast compared to my excitement and sheer joy over the films. I'm still a super-hero fan, just as much as ever. Maybe even more so. But there are other places for me to get that fix, ones that don't involve pointless misogyny and flailing desperation and endless, pathetic attempts to seem "mature" by rehashing themes that felt warmed over 25 years ago. (And in some cases not just themes, DC, I'm looking right at you and your 'Before Watchmen'...)
I'm now a refugee from the world of comics, taking up a new home in the world of movies and TV shows and reprints about the characters I love. It's kind of a relief to get that off my chest. I hope that those of you who are still comics fans won't think less of me for not being able to get excited about your hobby anymore. And I hope those of you who share this feeling will join me over here, where we're all eagerly awaiting 'Cap 2' and 'Iron Man 3' and 'Ant-Man' and 'Guardians of the Galaxy'...and where we're all hoping that someday, DC will get its act together and give us something to love the same way.
I used to be a comics fan. And while I still love a lot of individual comics...I don't think I am anymore.
Wednesday, August 08, 2012
How To Finally Make a Hulk Movie Work
If there's anyone out there who doesn't think that 'The Incredible Hulk' was the weakest of the "Marvel Universe" cycle of movies, I haven't heard from them. The consensus seems to be that while it wasn't a failure like the previous, disastrous Ang Lee 'Hulk', it's certainly nothing like the show-stopping success enjoyed by two Iron Man movies, Thor, and Captain America...and that 'The Avengers' showed a possible blueprint for how to make a Hulk film work. But in an ensemble film where just about everything worked, what is it specifically that made the Hulk click in a way that he hadn't in two previous films? What did Joss Whedon do right that Ang Lee and Louis Leterrier did wrong?
The answer is simple. The Hulk spoke.
Technically, he sorta spoke in all three of his film appearances. In Ang Lee's 'Hulk', during one of the film's weird, incoherent dream sequence-y things, he said, "Puny humans," while in 'The Incredible Hulk', he shouted "Hulk smash!" at the film's climax. That's roughly the same amount of dialogue he had in 'Avengers'. But in 'Avengers', he had one of the film's most memorable, laugh-out-loud, stand-up-and-cheer lines: "Puny god," spoken after treating Loki like a particularly maladjusted toddler treats a Betsy-Wetsy doll, showed the Hulk's actual personality in a way we never saw in the previous films. It showed that the Hulk isn't just a mindless force of nature, he's a person. He has his own way of looking at the world. And while he's frequently terrifying, as a being that powerful can be, he's actually just a big dumb goofy kid inside sometimes.
The comics have been embarrassed about the Hulk's goofiness for ages. I'm not sure exactly when it happened, although Peter David's decade-long run is certainly a place to start. He famously only used the Hulk's stylized "Hulk smash puny humans!" style of dialogue that Roy Thomas invented in a very limited capacity, and usually for comic effect to contrast it with the erudite and sarcastic Hulk he was more interested in writing. And while that worked for Peter David, it's worth noting that many of his "dumb Hulk" lines were also drop-dead funny, including the awesome comment made by the green Hulk in Banner's body: "Hulk's butt hurts!" Let's face it--Hulkspeak is freaking hilarious, and it's not by accident. It's meant to sound silly. It's meant to make the Hulk a little bit sympathetic, which is needed given that he's a brute and a monster.
The films we've gotten have refused to do that. They've been obviously trying to avoid embracing the silliness inherent in the Hulk's character, and it's hard to make a film work when your director refuses to stand behind its own central idea. (Notably, Ang Lee never lets the character be called "Hulk" onscreen. That takes being ashamed of your comic-book roots to new heights.) What's needed is a film that lets the Hulk be silly and sympathetic, while never letting us forget that he's dangerous and powerful. A film where the Hulk punches the giant flying dragon-worm...and then shoulder-punches Thor clean off-camera because he's in a bad mood. It needs to be funny as well as serious, something that the previous two attempts didn't even go for.
In short, the Hulk needs to talk. And he needs to talk goofy. If you can't get behind that, scrap your draft script and go back to the computer, Mister Screenwriter.
The answer is simple. The Hulk spoke.
Technically, he sorta spoke in all three of his film appearances. In Ang Lee's 'Hulk', during one of the film's weird, incoherent dream sequence-y things, he said, "Puny humans," while in 'The Incredible Hulk', he shouted "Hulk smash!" at the film's climax. That's roughly the same amount of dialogue he had in 'Avengers'. But in 'Avengers', he had one of the film's most memorable, laugh-out-loud, stand-up-and-cheer lines: "Puny god," spoken after treating Loki like a particularly maladjusted toddler treats a Betsy-Wetsy doll, showed the Hulk's actual personality in a way we never saw in the previous films. It showed that the Hulk isn't just a mindless force of nature, he's a person. He has his own way of looking at the world. And while he's frequently terrifying, as a being that powerful can be, he's actually just a big dumb goofy kid inside sometimes.
The comics have been embarrassed about the Hulk's goofiness for ages. I'm not sure exactly when it happened, although Peter David's decade-long run is certainly a place to start. He famously only used the Hulk's stylized "Hulk smash puny humans!" style of dialogue that Roy Thomas invented in a very limited capacity, and usually for comic effect to contrast it with the erudite and sarcastic Hulk he was more interested in writing. And while that worked for Peter David, it's worth noting that many of his "dumb Hulk" lines were also drop-dead funny, including the awesome comment made by the green Hulk in Banner's body: "Hulk's butt hurts!" Let's face it--Hulkspeak is freaking hilarious, and it's not by accident. It's meant to sound silly. It's meant to make the Hulk a little bit sympathetic, which is needed given that he's a brute and a monster.
The films we've gotten have refused to do that. They've been obviously trying to avoid embracing the silliness inherent in the Hulk's character, and it's hard to make a film work when your director refuses to stand behind its own central idea. (Notably, Ang Lee never lets the character be called "Hulk" onscreen. That takes being ashamed of your comic-book roots to new heights.) What's needed is a film that lets the Hulk be silly and sympathetic, while never letting us forget that he's dangerous and powerful. A film where the Hulk punches the giant flying dragon-worm...and then shoulder-punches Thor clean off-camera because he's in a bad mood. It needs to be funny as well as serious, something that the previous two attempts didn't even go for.
In short, the Hulk needs to talk. And he needs to talk goofy. If you can't get behind that, scrap your draft script and go back to the computer, Mister Screenwriter.
Thursday, August 02, 2012
Coming Soon
[SCREEN FADES IN ON A PICTURE OF FOREST--SOMEWHERE IN VIRGINIA, OR PERHAPS WEST VIRGINIA. NEAR SUNSET, WITH SOFT, GOLDEN LIGHTING. QUIET, INSPIRATIONAL STRING MUSIC PLAYS.]
NARRATOR (ADULT MAN, WITH MELLOW SOUTHERN ACCENT--SOMEONE LIKE MATTHEW MCCONAUGHEY, OR MAYBE WOODY HARRELSON. OR CHANNING TATUM, HE'S BIG RIGHT NOW, ISN'T HE? OR IS HE NOT SOUTHERN? MAYBE WE'RE THINKING OF SOMEONE ELSE. ANYWAY...): It wasn't easy, growing up near the mines...
[CUT TO A SCENE OF A YOUNGISH MAN OUTSIDE A RAMSHACKLE HOME, WEARING A SUIT AND GLASSES--CLEARLY AN INTELLECTUAL. HE'S TALKING TO A TWELVE-YEAR OLD BOY WHO LOOKS RAGGEDY, BUT ADORABLE.]
MAN: Where's your father, son?
BOY: Don't have no pa, sir.
MAN (LOOKING SOLEMN): Then where's your mother?
BOY (LOOKING VAGUELY ASHAMED): Workin'.
[CUT TO THE FOREST. MORE OF THE REALLY PRETTY GOLDEN LIGHT.]
NARRATOR: Felt like sometimes, I didn't have a friend in the world.
[THE BOY RUNS THROUGH THE FOREST, LEAPING OVER STUMPS AND ROCKS. HIS FACE IS FILLED WITH A FURY HE CANNOT EXPRESS SAVE THROUGH MOTION. SUDDENLY, HE TRIPS OVER A ROCK AND SPILLS HEADLONG, FALLING DOWN A SLOPE TO COME UP RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE END OF A HOLLOW, ROTTED LOG. HIS EYES WIDEN IN FEAR AS HE SEES WHAT'S INSIDE.]
NARRATOR: But that was before I met Little Bub.
[A BABY WOLVERINE CRAWLS OUT OF THE HOLLOW LOG, NUZZLING AGAINST THE BOY AS IF TO SAY, "FEED ME?"]
CAPTION: In a town without hope...
[THE BOY RUNNING AGAIN, ONLY THIS TIME WITH THE WOLVERINE AT HIS SIDE. IT'S NOTICEABLY LARGER, AND THE BOY LOOKS TO HAVE A WILD GRIN ON HIS FACE.]
CAPTION: Sometimes love...is where you make it.
[CUT TO THE MAN, TALKING TO A WOMAN WHO LOOKS WEARY AND CYNICAL, YET STILL HOT. CAN WE MAYBE GET SCARLETT JOHANSSONN, PUT HER IN A GRANDMA DRESS?]
MAN: I am just trying to help you.
WOMAN (OBVIOUSLY THE BOY'S MOTHER): Well, you can't. This isn't a place where things like that happen, so don't come asking! Because I don't!
[CUT TO THE BOY, BEING PUSHED AROUND BY BULLIES. SUDDENLY, THE WOLVERINE BITES ONE OF THEM COMICALLY ON THE BUTT.]
BULLY: YeeeeeOWWWW!
[CUT TO THE MOM, CLEARLY TERRIFIED AND FURIOUS.]
MOM: You stay away from that wolverine, you hear me, boy?!
BOY: But he's my only friend!
[CUT TO THE BOY RUNNING AGAIN, THIS TIME IN THE FOREST IN THE NIGHTTIME. HE'S NERVOUS NOW, BUT THE WOLVERINE IS RUNNING ALONGSIDE HIM.]
NARRATOR: I guess you could say I became a man, that summer.
[CUT TO BOY, KISSING A GIRL FOR THE FIRST TIME. THE WOLVERINE IS PLAYING AT THEIR FEET.]
NARRATOR: The summer I found...
TITLE CARD: THE WOLVERINE.
CAPTION: When you can't believe in anyone else...believe in your heart.
........admit it. This is what you all think of when you hear that title, isn't it?
NARRATOR (ADULT MAN, WITH MELLOW SOUTHERN ACCENT--SOMEONE LIKE MATTHEW MCCONAUGHEY, OR MAYBE WOODY HARRELSON. OR CHANNING TATUM, HE'S BIG RIGHT NOW, ISN'T HE? OR IS HE NOT SOUTHERN? MAYBE WE'RE THINKING OF SOMEONE ELSE. ANYWAY...): It wasn't easy, growing up near the mines...
[CUT TO A SCENE OF A YOUNGISH MAN OUTSIDE A RAMSHACKLE HOME, WEARING A SUIT AND GLASSES--CLEARLY AN INTELLECTUAL. HE'S TALKING TO A TWELVE-YEAR OLD BOY WHO LOOKS RAGGEDY, BUT ADORABLE.]
MAN: Where's your father, son?
BOY: Don't have no pa, sir.
MAN (LOOKING SOLEMN): Then where's your mother?
BOY (LOOKING VAGUELY ASHAMED): Workin'.
[CUT TO THE FOREST. MORE OF THE REALLY PRETTY GOLDEN LIGHT.]
NARRATOR: Felt like sometimes, I didn't have a friend in the world.
[THE BOY RUNS THROUGH THE FOREST, LEAPING OVER STUMPS AND ROCKS. HIS FACE IS FILLED WITH A FURY HE CANNOT EXPRESS SAVE THROUGH MOTION. SUDDENLY, HE TRIPS OVER A ROCK AND SPILLS HEADLONG, FALLING DOWN A SLOPE TO COME UP RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE END OF A HOLLOW, ROTTED LOG. HIS EYES WIDEN IN FEAR AS HE SEES WHAT'S INSIDE.]
NARRATOR: But that was before I met Little Bub.
[A BABY WOLVERINE CRAWLS OUT OF THE HOLLOW LOG, NUZZLING AGAINST THE BOY AS IF TO SAY, "FEED ME?"]
CAPTION: In a town without hope...
[THE BOY RUNNING AGAIN, ONLY THIS TIME WITH THE WOLVERINE AT HIS SIDE. IT'S NOTICEABLY LARGER, AND THE BOY LOOKS TO HAVE A WILD GRIN ON HIS FACE.]
CAPTION: Sometimes love...is where you make it.
[CUT TO THE MAN, TALKING TO A WOMAN WHO LOOKS WEARY AND CYNICAL, YET STILL HOT. CAN WE MAYBE GET SCARLETT JOHANSSONN, PUT HER IN A GRANDMA DRESS?]
MAN: I am just trying to help you.
WOMAN (OBVIOUSLY THE BOY'S MOTHER): Well, you can't. This isn't a place where things like that happen, so don't come asking! Because I don't!
[CUT TO THE BOY, BEING PUSHED AROUND BY BULLIES. SUDDENLY, THE WOLVERINE BITES ONE OF THEM COMICALLY ON THE BUTT.]
BULLY: YeeeeeOWWWW!
[CUT TO THE MOM, CLEARLY TERRIFIED AND FURIOUS.]
MOM: You stay away from that wolverine, you hear me, boy?!
BOY: But he's my only friend!
[CUT TO THE BOY RUNNING AGAIN, THIS TIME IN THE FOREST IN THE NIGHTTIME. HE'S NERVOUS NOW, BUT THE WOLVERINE IS RUNNING ALONGSIDE HIM.]
NARRATOR: I guess you could say I became a man, that summer.
[CUT TO BOY, KISSING A GIRL FOR THE FIRST TIME. THE WOLVERINE IS PLAYING AT THEIR FEET.]
NARRATOR: The summer I found...
TITLE CARD: THE WOLVERINE.
CAPTION: When you can't believe in anyone else...believe in your heart.
........admit it. This is what you all think of when you hear that title, isn't it?
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Romney Logic
So as I am to understand it, the Israeli standard of living is much higher than the Palestinian standard of living, due to their "superior culture". Romney looks at the Palestinians, whose country is under occupation and whose trade has been interdicted by the Israeli government (to be fair, the reason that the Israelis try to make sure that the Palestinians don't have any money is the not-unreasonable fear that the Palestinians will spend it all on bombs and guns that they'll use to kill the Israelis. Which is why international diplomacy is so complicated.)
Unless you're Mitt Romney, of course. Then it's not complicated at all. The Israelis have a superior culture, so they live better.
Has anyone ever asked him if that means, by extension, that the Nazis had an even more superior culture? After all, I'm pretty sure that if you compare the standards of living of Nazi party members to German Jews in 1942, you'd find an even vaster disparity in income and standard of living. And many of those surviving Jews went on to be among the earliest Israeli settlers. I think someone should check in with Mitt and see if the syllogism holds for him.
Actually, on second thought, I think that'd be a very bad idea. He might tell us.
Unless you're Mitt Romney, of course. Then it's not complicated at all. The Israelis have a superior culture, so they live better.
Has anyone ever asked him if that means, by extension, that the Nazis had an even more superior culture? After all, I'm pretty sure that if you compare the standards of living of Nazi party members to German Jews in 1942, you'd find an even vaster disparity in income and standard of living. And many of those surviving Jews went on to be among the earliest Israeli settlers. I think someone should check in with Mitt and see if the syllogism holds for him.
Actually, on second thought, I think that'd be a very bad idea. He might tell us.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Reactions to the Comic-Con Comic Movie News
Comic-Con, of course, is your go-to spot for big gigantic epic humongous super-cool movie news, ever since they realized you could fit the entire reading audience of the best-selling comic at either Marvel or DC into the building and have some space around the sides. Let's face it, it's either diversify or die, and luckily tons of people are into superheroes nowadays, even if they don't know that they're still publishing stories about them in small pamphlets to a niche audience of aging fans.
And this year's news was no exception. Marvel announced that they would be coming out with 'Captain America: The Winter Soldier', 'Thor: The Dark World', 'Iron Man 3', 'Ant-Man', and 'Guardians of the Galaxy', while DC announced that after the climax of Christopher Nolan's Bat-Trilogy and the relaunch of Superman that fans have already been aware of for over a year, they have...um...maybe a 'Justice League' movie? Sometime in 2015? They don't have a script or a director or a cast yet, but they're totally working on it.
Let that just sink in for a moment. Ant-Man and Rocket Raccoon will be hitting the big screen before Wonder Woman and the Flash. At this point, it feels like Marvel is just doing victory laps. "Hey, whaddya think, guys!" you can hear them saying. "Wanna fast-track a Squadron Supreme movie for 2015, just to mess with their heads?"
Seriously, how does this work? Does Warner Brothers just hate money? There is a huge audience out there right now for well-done superhero movies that treat their source material with respect while remaining accessible to newcomers, and their mainstream DCU non-Superman/Batman track record for the last five years consists of 'Jonah Hex' and 'Green Lantern'. And extending it back much further runs into 'Catwoman'.
What these guys need is to find their own Avi Arad; someone who is savvy about the film industry, while remaining ultimately in the corner of the DC comics guys. They need to elevate DC to its own division in their company, with its own studio that focuses exclusively on DC movies. They need to show deference to the people who know the material, instead of assuming that the tropes of the superhero comic can be easily and painlessly extruded through the mold of a summer blockbuster. They need high-quality talent behind the cameras; Christopher Nolan should be the base level of quality for this kind of thing. (Admittedly, Martin Campbell looked like a good choice on paper...perhaps the lesson to take away from 'Green Lantern' is that your script has to work first.)
And they need to do all this fast. Because at this rate, by the time they do finally come out with a 'Flash' movie, people are going to assume it's totally a rip-off of that Quicksilver guy from 'Avengers 3'.
And this year's news was no exception. Marvel announced that they would be coming out with 'Captain America: The Winter Soldier', 'Thor: The Dark World', 'Iron Man 3', 'Ant-Man', and 'Guardians of the Galaxy', while DC announced that after the climax of Christopher Nolan's Bat-Trilogy and the relaunch of Superman that fans have already been aware of for over a year, they have...um...maybe a 'Justice League' movie? Sometime in 2015? They don't have a script or a director or a cast yet, but they're totally working on it.
Let that just sink in for a moment. Ant-Man and Rocket Raccoon will be hitting the big screen before Wonder Woman and the Flash. At this point, it feels like Marvel is just doing victory laps. "Hey, whaddya think, guys!" you can hear them saying. "Wanna fast-track a Squadron Supreme movie for 2015, just to mess with their heads?"
Seriously, how does this work? Does Warner Brothers just hate money? There is a huge audience out there right now for well-done superhero movies that treat their source material with respect while remaining accessible to newcomers, and their mainstream DCU non-Superman/Batman track record for the last five years consists of 'Jonah Hex' and 'Green Lantern'. And extending it back much further runs into 'Catwoman'.
What these guys need is to find their own Avi Arad; someone who is savvy about the film industry, while remaining ultimately in the corner of the DC comics guys. They need to elevate DC to its own division in their company, with its own studio that focuses exclusively on DC movies. They need to show deference to the people who know the material, instead of assuming that the tropes of the superhero comic can be easily and painlessly extruded through the mold of a summer blockbuster. They need high-quality talent behind the cameras; Christopher Nolan should be the base level of quality for this kind of thing. (Admittedly, Martin Campbell looked like a good choice on paper...perhaps the lesson to take away from 'Green Lantern' is that your script has to work first.)
And they need to do all this fast. Because at this rate, by the time they do finally come out with a 'Flash' movie, people are going to assume it's totally a rip-off of that Quicksilver guy from 'Avengers 3'.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Storytelling Engines: CSI
(or "The Old Reliable")
Let's start by specifying which "CSI" we're talking about. We're not talking about the CSI TV show that's been going for twelve seasons, nor the other CSI TV show, nor the other other CSI TV show. We're talking about the CSI comics that are based on the CSI TV show that spun off two other CSI TV shows, both of which had impressively long runs as well. So you can already tell that we're talking about a pretty successful storytelling engine here. (What you may not be able to tell, and I'm not going to assume you know, is what "CSI" stands for. It's "Crime Scene Investigations".)
But why? What makes this the kind of storytelling engine that sustains so many stories so easily for so long? Do the comics contain some sort of clue that the TV show doesn't? Actually, it's hard to tell just what the storytelling engine is from one volume of the CSI comic book collections; the "decompression" effect of modern comic books is quite graphically demonstrated (if you'll pardon the pun) with these series. A trade paperback that's over 300 pages long really only contains three individual stories; that's barely enough time to put names to faces, let alone give you a really detailed look into what makes the series tick.
Fortunately, one of the things that the CSI TV series show is that it doesn't really matter who's doing the investigating. All three shows have rotating casts, in addition to having three complete sets of casts, and it doesn't seem to dent the popularity of the shows or the ability of writers to come up with new story ideas. It's the jobs the characters do, not their personal lives, that drive the engine of a police procedural; the occasional episode or storyarc might come from the characters' pasts or personalities, but usually the easiest way to get a police protagonist involved in a story is to call 911. (Depending on the series, of course; 'Criminal Minds', for example, tends to run its one-off stories as basic procedurals and base its longer arcs on the backstories of the people involved. Neither approach is "right" or "wrong", but one definitely lends itself better towards casting changes.)
And likewise, it's not the location that's important; the CSI that the comics are based on happens to be the Las Vegas CSI, but New York and Miami offer no more or fewer storytelling opportunities. Pretty much any big city has a high enough crime rate that you can believably imagine one interesting murder case a week. CSI: International Falls doesn't work quite so well, but you could easily imagine them spinning off the franchise into Dallas, Minneapolis, Los Angeles, or Atlanta without any real difficulty.
So if the people don't matter, and the place doesn't matter...what makes this such a workable storytelling engine? Surely if 100+ previous entries have taught us anything, it's that those things are usually pretty important. Why is CSI evergreen without any of it mattering?
The answer, I think, has to be the crimes. Sad to say, there is an endless variety of human misery out there, ready to inspire us to create art that examines its meaning. Meaning that there's never going to be an end to the inspiration for police procedurals; as long as there's crime today, there will be a story tomorrow that imagines those criminals being brought to justice. That's enough material to supply a hundred police procedurals for a hundred years...which is probably something I shouldn't say too loud. I might give the CSI people some ideas.
Let's start by specifying which "CSI" we're talking about. We're not talking about the CSI TV show that's been going for twelve seasons, nor the other CSI TV show, nor the other other CSI TV show. We're talking about the CSI comics that are based on the CSI TV show that spun off two other CSI TV shows, both of which had impressively long runs as well. So you can already tell that we're talking about a pretty successful storytelling engine here. (What you may not be able to tell, and I'm not going to assume you know, is what "CSI" stands for. It's "Crime Scene Investigations".)
But why? What makes this the kind of storytelling engine that sustains so many stories so easily for so long? Do the comics contain some sort of clue that the TV show doesn't? Actually, it's hard to tell just what the storytelling engine is from one volume of the CSI comic book collections; the "decompression" effect of modern comic books is quite graphically demonstrated (if you'll pardon the pun) with these series. A trade paperback that's over 300 pages long really only contains three individual stories; that's barely enough time to put names to faces, let alone give you a really detailed look into what makes the series tick.
Fortunately, one of the things that the CSI TV series show is that it doesn't really matter who's doing the investigating. All three shows have rotating casts, in addition to having three complete sets of casts, and it doesn't seem to dent the popularity of the shows or the ability of writers to come up with new story ideas. It's the jobs the characters do, not their personal lives, that drive the engine of a police procedural; the occasional episode or storyarc might come from the characters' pasts or personalities, but usually the easiest way to get a police protagonist involved in a story is to call 911. (Depending on the series, of course; 'Criminal Minds', for example, tends to run its one-off stories as basic procedurals and base its longer arcs on the backstories of the people involved. Neither approach is "right" or "wrong", but one definitely lends itself better towards casting changes.)
And likewise, it's not the location that's important; the CSI that the comics are based on happens to be the Las Vegas CSI, but New York and Miami offer no more or fewer storytelling opportunities. Pretty much any big city has a high enough crime rate that you can believably imagine one interesting murder case a week. CSI: International Falls doesn't work quite so well, but you could easily imagine them spinning off the franchise into Dallas, Minneapolis, Los Angeles, or Atlanta without any real difficulty.
So if the people don't matter, and the place doesn't matter...what makes this such a workable storytelling engine? Surely if 100+ previous entries have taught us anything, it's that those things are usually pretty important. Why is CSI evergreen without any of it mattering?
The answer, I think, has to be the crimes. Sad to say, there is an endless variety of human misery out there, ready to inspire us to create art that examines its meaning. Meaning that there's never going to be an end to the inspiration for police procedurals; as long as there's crime today, there will be a story tomorrow that imagines those criminals being brought to justice. That's enough material to supply a hundred police procedurals for a hundred years...which is probably something I shouldn't say too loud. I might give the CSI people some ideas.
Friday, July 13, 2012
No, Seriously, Republicans, Who's Your Real Candidate?
A couple of months ago, I wrote a post about how utterly inept politician Mitt Romney was at the basic fundamentals of politics; to wit, he has a very hard time presenting himself as a decent and likeable human being that you'd want to elect, and he has a hard time keeping negative stories about himself from circulating. I posted a series of jocular headlines I expected to see over the coming months, as Romney's liabilities continued to snowball.
I didn't actually expect that the June headline, "Romney Invested In Company That Disposes of Human Fetuses" and the July headline, "Romney Insists He Did Not Commit Felony With False SEC Filings", would actually top the ones I'd written. At this point, I am not ruling out the Horcruxes.
I didn't actually expect that the June headline, "Romney Invested In Company That Disposes of Human Fetuses" and the July headline, "Romney Insists He Did Not Commit Felony With False SEC Filings", would actually top the ones I'd written. At this point, I am not ruling out the Horcruxes.
Sunday, July 08, 2012
A Shocking Revelation
I can't imagine why I haven't seen this before.
He's an expert martial artist with a hidden backstory. He refuses to use guns, to the point of emptying the clip as soon as he takes one off a bad guy. He's determined to the point of seeming imperviousness to pain.
Eliot from 'Leverage' is Bruce Wayne in disguise.
Everything makes so much sense now.
He's an expert martial artist with a hidden backstory. He refuses to use guns, to the point of emptying the clip as soon as he takes one off a bad guy. He's determined to the point of seeming imperviousness to pain.
Eliot from 'Leverage' is Bruce Wayne in disguise.
Everything makes so much sense now.
Friday, June 29, 2012
I Miss Giant Bugs Even More Now That I Have Them
A couple of years ago, I commented on how the Golden Age of Giant Bug Movies was a thing of the past, a relic of a period where special effects didn't have to be believable and process shots of real bugs close up were just fine in the minds of moviegoers who hadn't been exposed to Lucas-level effects magic. But I added the caveat that with the cheapness and ease of use of CGI, we were approaching an era where big-bug movies were cheap and easy to do once more. Many of my commenters pointed out that ScyFyieh (or however they're spelling it these days) is doing just that, with films like 'MegaShark Vs. Giant Octopus', 'Giant Shark Vs. MegaOctopus', and 'OctoShark vs. MegaGiant'. (Or something like that. The titles kind of blur together after a while.) I've since watched a couple of these...
...and I gotta say, the people who make them really don't understand how to make a bad movie.
I know, you wouldn't think of a bad movie as something that takes any particular talent to make, would you? I mean, that's what makes it bad. Lack of talent. But that's exactly the problem with these bad movies. They're not made by talentless people trying hard to make the best movie they can possibly make. They're made by people of modest talent who have decided that there's more money to be made by making a bad movie that they hope people will watch because it's campy, than in trying to make a good movie on a limited budget. Basically, they're bunting.
Take 'Arachnoquake'. It's not the craziest of B-movie ideas; an earthquake in New Orleans unleashes hordes of giant subterranean spiders. You could, theoretically, make a good disaster/horror movie out of that. (Not High Art, or anything, but good.) But when you make them telepathic fire-breathing spiders that can walk on water and have radar senses, you're clearly not even trying. You're just chucking any old thing onto the screen in the hopes that people will say, "Oh, wow! A movie called 'Arachnoquake'! It's bound to be so bad it's good!"
But it's not. It's charmless. The actors are all reasonably talented (with the obvious exception of Edward Furlong), speaking dialogue that was written to sound bad coming out of their mouths. They all cope in various different ways, but it doesn't have any of the silly joy that you get from watching an obvious amateur act to the best of their abilities (like, say, anyone in an Ed Wood movie.) The CGI, while well-executed, feels sterile and uninteresting. Watching the old giant bug movies, you wondered as a kid how they did it. Then as an adult, you wondered how they thought anyone would believe it. A CGI spider just feels like a cartoon with delusions of grandeur.
A truly great bad movie is one that swings for the fences. It's a movie that leaves you with no doubt that this is the best possible movie these people could make, and frequently leaves you admiring their effort even as you chuckle at the gap between their desire and their ability. The new bug movies are made by people who just don't care. And if they don't care, why should anyone else?
...and I gotta say, the people who make them really don't understand how to make a bad movie.
I know, you wouldn't think of a bad movie as something that takes any particular talent to make, would you? I mean, that's what makes it bad. Lack of talent. But that's exactly the problem with these bad movies. They're not made by talentless people trying hard to make the best movie they can possibly make. They're made by people of modest talent who have decided that there's more money to be made by making a bad movie that they hope people will watch because it's campy, than in trying to make a good movie on a limited budget. Basically, they're bunting.
Take 'Arachnoquake'. It's not the craziest of B-movie ideas; an earthquake in New Orleans unleashes hordes of giant subterranean spiders. You could, theoretically, make a good disaster/horror movie out of that. (Not High Art, or anything, but good.) But when you make them telepathic fire-breathing spiders that can walk on water and have radar senses, you're clearly not even trying. You're just chucking any old thing onto the screen in the hopes that people will say, "Oh, wow! A movie called 'Arachnoquake'! It's bound to be so bad it's good!"
But it's not. It's charmless. The actors are all reasonably talented (with the obvious exception of Edward Furlong), speaking dialogue that was written to sound bad coming out of their mouths. They all cope in various different ways, but it doesn't have any of the silly joy that you get from watching an obvious amateur act to the best of their abilities (like, say, anyone in an Ed Wood movie.) The CGI, while well-executed, feels sterile and uninteresting. Watching the old giant bug movies, you wondered as a kid how they did it. Then as an adult, you wondered how they thought anyone would believe it. A CGI spider just feels like a cartoon with delusions of grandeur.
A truly great bad movie is one that swings for the fences. It's a movie that leaves you with no doubt that this is the best possible movie these people could make, and frequently leaves you admiring their effort even as you chuckle at the gap between their desire and their ability. The new bug movies are made by people who just don't care. And if they don't care, why should anyone else?
Friday, June 22, 2012
My Joker
I've had this mental image of the Joker in my head for years, as part of a vague set of ideas for a reboot of the character. In my mind, Bruce Wayne is touring Arkham (pretending that it's a mad whim, the sort of morbid curiosity of the idle and politically-connected rich) and they show him the cell. In it, there's a man with chalk-white flesh and bright green hair, laughing and laughing and laughing and laughing...
"Who's he?" Bruce asks.
"We don't know his name. We found him five years ago, sitting just like this in a fast-food restaurant, dressed up like their mascot."
"Why didn't you clean him up?"
"We tried. That's not make-up. His actual skin is like that. Hair, too. Toxicology shows it to be some sort of chemical dye, the same sort of thing we found in the victims."
"Victims?"
"Everyone else in the building was dead. We think he was handing out poisoned food, pretending it was free samples. We may never know for sure."
"Haven't you asked him?"
"He hasn't stopped laughing. He doesn't talk, he doesn't sleep, we acutally have to force-feed him. He just keeps laughing like that. We can't put any prisoners in this row, they go nuts." Pause. "More nuts."
Bruce looks at the man in the cell, trying to see through those eyes for a moment to understand the madness within...and then shakes himself free of it. The tour moves on.
That'd actually be the last you see of the Joker for a while. Maybe twenty issues, maybe twenty-five. Batman goes on, fights other bad guys...and then at the end of a storyline, after the main action is done, the scene cuts to Arkham. The panels form a long "tracking shot" down the hallways, following a trail of laughter sound effects to its source: The man in the cell. He's laughing, and laughing, and laughing, and laughing...
And slowly, the laughs become giggles. The giggles become chuckles. The chuckles subside into that last little, "heh, heh, heh...whoo," that comes at the end of a long fit of giggles. And the Joker wipes a tear of laughter from his eye.
"Well," he says, "that was fun. I wonder what I should do next?"
"Who's he?" Bruce asks.
"We don't know his name. We found him five years ago, sitting just like this in a fast-food restaurant, dressed up like their mascot."
"Why didn't you clean him up?"
"We tried. That's not make-up. His actual skin is like that. Hair, too. Toxicology shows it to be some sort of chemical dye, the same sort of thing we found in the victims."
"Victims?"
"Everyone else in the building was dead. We think he was handing out poisoned food, pretending it was free samples. We may never know for sure."
"Haven't you asked him?"
"He hasn't stopped laughing. He doesn't talk, he doesn't sleep, we acutally have to force-feed him. He just keeps laughing like that. We can't put any prisoners in this row, they go nuts." Pause. "More nuts."
Bruce looks at the man in the cell, trying to see through those eyes for a moment to understand the madness within...and then shakes himself free of it. The tour moves on.
That'd actually be the last you see of the Joker for a while. Maybe twenty issues, maybe twenty-five. Batman goes on, fights other bad guys...and then at the end of a storyline, after the main action is done, the scene cuts to Arkham. The panels form a long "tracking shot" down the hallways, following a trail of laughter sound effects to its source: The man in the cell. He's laughing, and laughing, and laughing, and laughing...
And slowly, the laughs become giggles. The giggles become chuckles. The chuckles subside into that last little, "heh, heh, heh...whoo," that comes at the end of a long fit of giggles. And the Joker wipes a tear of laughter from his eye.
"Well," he says, "that was fun. I wonder what I should do next?"
Friday, June 15, 2012
Apologies for the Delay
Got hit with a nasty flu bug--no trip to the hospital or anything, but I haven't felt up to blogging this week. Normal service should resume on Monday.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Review: Touched by an Angel
...the Doctor Who novel. Not the long-running, inspirational TV series. I've never actually seen an episode of the show, but I guess it was sort of like 'Highway to Heaven', only with less Michael Landon and more women. Which, y'know, if you like that sort of thing, I guess? Anyhow, this is about the other kind of Angel. The kind that you should never look away from. Not even for a second.
Honestly, if you're going to do a Weeping Angel time-travel head-trip story, there really is no better person to go to than to Jonathan Morris. He's one of the remaining genuinely great Doctor Who authors who hasn't made the jump to television, and his debut novel, 'Festival of Death', is probably the only Doctor Who story to out wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey Moffat himself. Combining him with the Weeping Angels is an absolutely natural pairing.
And he doesn't disappoint. The basic premise of the novel is pretty much in line with the sort of thing you'd expect from a Weeping Angel story, while at the same time providing an inventive enough twist; Mark, a depressed widower, receives a message from his own past self explaining how he can save his wife, one which leads him into an encounter with Weeping Angels and sends him back in time so that he can follow his future self's instructions. It's sort of a remix of the two basic ideas of 'Blink', a not-unheard of but well-executed version of the time travel paradox story.
And Morris continues the 'Blink' house mix idea a fair distance into the novel; we get the Eleventh Doctor's take on the wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey detector ("boils eggs; that's not a bug, it's a feature"), we get some cunning interactions between the past and future Marks as the Doctor, Amy and Rory struggle to prevent history from being changed...it's nothing especially inventive, but Morris has great prose and the plot unfolds entertainingly...
And then Morris rings in the clever twist, which I'm far too nice to spoil, and it becomes obvious that he's been working hard at letting us think that this is a clever-but-unambitious time-travel head-trip story so that we don't see the twist coming. And then things get seriously clever, and Rory wears a fez. And about the ending I shall say no more, except to suggest that this one is well worth reading.
Honestly, if you're going to do a Weeping Angel time-travel head-trip story, there really is no better person to go to than to Jonathan Morris. He's one of the remaining genuinely great Doctor Who authors who hasn't made the jump to television, and his debut novel, 'Festival of Death', is probably the only Doctor Who story to out wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey Moffat himself. Combining him with the Weeping Angels is an absolutely natural pairing.
And he doesn't disappoint. The basic premise of the novel is pretty much in line with the sort of thing you'd expect from a Weeping Angel story, while at the same time providing an inventive enough twist; Mark, a depressed widower, receives a message from his own past self explaining how he can save his wife, one which leads him into an encounter with Weeping Angels and sends him back in time so that he can follow his future self's instructions. It's sort of a remix of the two basic ideas of 'Blink', a not-unheard of but well-executed version of the time travel paradox story.
And Morris continues the 'Blink' house mix idea a fair distance into the novel; we get the Eleventh Doctor's take on the wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey detector ("boils eggs; that's not a bug, it's a feature"), we get some cunning interactions between the past and future Marks as the Doctor, Amy and Rory struggle to prevent history from being changed...it's nothing especially inventive, but Morris has great prose and the plot unfolds entertainingly...
And then Morris rings in the clever twist, which I'm far too nice to spoil, and it becomes obvious that he's been working hard at letting us think that this is a clever-but-unambitious time-travel head-trip story so that we don't see the twist coming. And then things get seriously clever, and Rory wears a fez. And about the ending I shall say no more, except to suggest that this one is well worth reading.
Sunday, June 03, 2012
My Invention Idea
My idea is simple, yet revolutionary. It comes in three steps.
1) Add a laser distance meter to the front bumper of every car, which is continually taking measurements of how car away the thing in front of you is.
2) Combine it with a computer that calculates the speed at which you are approaching the thing in front of you to work out a safe following distance for your current speed.
3) Hook that up to a set of speakers in the car that would play an annoying sound, which gradually increases in volume as you exceed the safe following distance (ie, as you get too close to the car in front of you.) My original plan was to put in a governor on the accelerator linked to the computer which would automatically cut out the gas as you got too close, but this seems like a better way of doing it.
Since I'm aware this wouldn't be the most popular invention...ironically, it'd be least popular among the people who need it most...I'm tempted to add 4) Design the whole thing so that it gives you a mild-but-painful electrical shock if you try to tamper with it.
Now granted, this isn't a multi-million dollar invention, because I'm pretty sure that nobody thinks of it as a quality-of-life improvement for their driving experience to have loud, annoying noises playing in their cars. But I'm also pretty sure that nobody enjoys having someone less than two feet from their rear bumper when driving at highway speeds, either, so it's just possible that we could get the government to mandate something like this in the same way they require seat belts and airbags. In a way, it makes even more sense; we're willing to spend millions to make cars more survivable in the event of a crash, so why wouldn't we spend about $150 to try to prevent the single most preventable accident there is?
I know, there's probably some crazy reason why it would be a bad idea. But given the amount of absolutely terrible driving I've seen in the last two days, just let me have my dream, okay?
1) Add a laser distance meter to the front bumper of every car, which is continually taking measurements of how car away the thing in front of you is.
2) Combine it with a computer that calculates the speed at which you are approaching the thing in front of you to work out a safe following distance for your current speed.
3) Hook that up to a set of speakers in the car that would play an annoying sound, which gradually increases in volume as you exceed the safe following distance (ie, as you get too close to the car in front of you.) My original plan was to put in a governor on the accelerator linked to the computer which would automatically cut out the gas as you got too close, but this seems like a better way of doing it.
Since I'm aware this wouldn't be the most popular invention...ironically, it'd be least popular among the people who need it most...I'm tempted to add 4) Design the whole thing so that it gives you a mild-but-painful electrical shock if you try to tamper with it.
Now granted, this isn't a multi-million dollar invention, because I'm pretty sure that nobody thinks of it as a quality-of-life improvement for their driving experience to have loud, annoying noises playing in their cars. But I'm also pretty sure that nobody enjoys having someone less than two feet from their rear bumper when driving at highway speeds, either, so it's just possible that we could get the government to mandate something like this in the same way they require seat belts and airbags. In a way, it makes even more sense; we're willing to spend millions to make cars more survivable in the event of a crash, so why wouldn't we spend about $150 to try to prevent the single most preventable accident there is?
I know, there's probably some crazy reason why it would be a bad idea. But given the amount of absolutely terrible driving I've seen in the last two days, just let me have my dream, okay?
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Thoughts On DC's Latest Decision
For those of you who haven't heard...which probably isn't many of you, but I'm recapping anyway...DC has announced that they are going to be unveiling a major difference between the New 52 DC Universe and the old DC Universe. Specifically, one of the major, recognizable figures in that universe will be revealed to be gay in the new version of continuity.
Today, Rich Johnston posted an article suggesting that the new gay character will be Alan Scott, the Golden Age Green Lantern. This has not been confirmed yet, and it may yet turn out to be some other character (although I'm pretty sure it's too late for DC to change the character's identity the way they did with Monarch in Armageddon 2001...) But it's worth looking at the news on the assumption that it's true.
The first question is, "Does this pass the 'iconic character' test?" After all, DC made a decision to announce this in a way that risks criticism as a publicity stunt. (I'm still not sure entirely how to feel about the announcement itself in that regard, but suffice to say, I think it's going to be a long while before we see headlines that say, "DC To Announce New Straight White Male Character".) If this is going to be news, it's going to have to be big news to avoid complaints of tokenism and hype.
In that regard, I think it does a reasonably good job. Alan Scott might not be as famous to the general public as some, but in comics terms, he's definitely an elder statesman of the DCU, and one with a long and storied history. This is definitely a better choice than some of the ones rumored (like, say, Vibe.) I still think that the most seamless and most audacious decision would have been to go with Batman, because he doesn't really have a history of strong female relationships--his relationship with Vicki Vale has never had the same kind of iconic status as Superman and Lois Lane, and his girlfriends are frequently shown as "beards" to explain away his late-night disappearances and eccentricities--but I suspect they were concerned about the potential insinuations of child molestation. (Which is a shame, as that's always been one of the nastier and more slanderous accusations directed against gay men--that they "can't be trusted" around straight boys--and it would have been nice to see a character who's not just a role model as a gay man, but as a gay parent. But I can dream.)
Which brings us to the second question, "Does it fit in with the character's history?" Well, certainly people are going to point to Jade and Obsidian, but if having kids disqualifies you from ever being gay, nobody ever told my uncle. Molly Mayne is a bit of a stronger counter-argument, but again, she's not an iconic part of his history in the way that Joan Garrick is with Jay. His relationship with her is something that was added on by noted continuity hound Roy Thomas in the 80s, during the absolute heights of his obsession with connecting all the dots in all the Golden Age characters' histories. I don't think that this should offend DC history obsessives too much. (Although expect most of the homophobes out there to insist that they're mainly bothered by the blatant disregard for continuity!)
And that brings us to the third question, "Does it have potential for good characterization and interesting storytelling?" Well, maybe. I think it would have been a bit more interesting if they'd kept the JSA as rooted in their World War II origins and their pre-reboot roles as elder statesmen of the DCU; a gay character who'd lived through a number of different eras, each with their own views of homosexuality, would have been very illuminating. (Frankly, I just don't think a young JSA is very exciting in general, although I admittedly come to that as someone who didn't pay much attention to DC comics until 'Crisis'.) But really, time will tell. I'm not sure if they handled this well...but I'm certain that they could have done it a lot worse.
Today, Rich Johnston posted an article suggesting that the new gay character will be Alan Scott, the Golden Age Green Lantern. This has not been confirmed yet, and it may yet turn out to be some other character (although I'm pretty sure it's too late for DC to change the character's identity the way they did with Monarch in Armageddon 2001...) But it's worth looking at the news on the assumption that it's true.
The first question is, "Does this pass the 'iconic character' test?" After all, DC made a decision to announce this in a way that risks criticism as a publicity stunt. (I'm still not sure entirely how to feel about the announcement itself in that regard, but suffice to say, I think it's going to be a long while before we see headlines that say, "DC To Announce New Straight White Male Character".) If this is going to be news, it's going to have to be big news to avoid complaints of tokenism and hype.
In that regard, I think it does a reasonably good job. Alan Scott might not be as famous to the general public as some, but in comics terms, he's definitely an elder statesman of the DCU, and one with a long and storied history. This is definitely a better choice than some of the ones rumored (like, say, Vibe.) I still think that the most seamless and most audacious decision would have been to go with Batman, because he doesn't really have a history of strong female relationships--his relationship with Vicki Vale has never had the same kind of iconic status as Superman and Lois Lane, and his girlfriends are frequently shown as "beards" to explain away his late-night disappearances and eccentricities--but I suspect they were concerned about the potential insinuations of child molestation. (Which is a shame, as that's always been one of the nastier and more slanderous accusations directed against gay men--that they "can't be trusted" around straight boys--and it would have been nice to see a character who's not just a role model as a gay man, but as a gay parent. But I can dream.)
Which brings us to the second question, "Does it fit in with the character's history?" Well, certainly people are going to point to Jade and Obsidian, but if having kids disqualifies you from ever being gay, nobody ever told my uncle. Molly Mayne is a bit of a stronger counter-argument, but again, she's not an iconic part of his history in the way that Joan Garrick is with Jay. His relationship with her is something that was added on by noted continuity hound Roy Thomas in the 80s, during the absolute heights of his obsession with connecting all the dots in all the Golden Age characters' histories. I don't think that this should offend DC history obsessives too much. (Although expect most of the homophobes out there to insist that they're mainly bothered by the blatant disregard for continuity!)
And that brings us to the third question, "Does it have potential for good characterization and interesting storytelling?" Well, maybe. I think it would have been a bit more interesting if they'd kept the JSA as rooted in their World War II origins and their pre-reboot roles as elder statesmen of the DCU; a gay character who'd lived through a number of different eras, each with their own views of homosexuality, would have been very illuminating. (Frankly, I just don't think a young JSA is very exciting in general, although I admittedly come to that as someone who didn't pay much attention to DC comics until 'Crisis'.) But really, time will tell. I'm not sure if they handled this well...but I'm certain that they could have done it a lot worse.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
The Wisdom of Odin (and his lawyers)
Earlier this year, my daughter requested a "Thor hammer" for her sixth birthday, along with a matching helmet. She got her request, and has been happily playing with it, but it was only recently that I noticed that there were actually words written on it. I thought that was an excellent touch, showing clever attention to detail, and I picked up the hammer to read the words written on the side of Mjolnir. Mjolnir Giant-Killer, forged by the dwarves under the mountains. Mjolnir, blessed by Odin himself. What wisdom did Odin carve into the mystic uru metal? I had to know.
Apparently, Odin wrote:
"CAUTION: Do not poke or swing at people or animals. Use away from breakable objects."
"CAUTION: Do not aim at eyes or face."
"TO AVOID INJURY: Use only missiles designed for this product. Do not modify missiles or blaster."
This tells me two things. One, Odin inexplicably failed to account for the possibility of Spanish speakers lifting the mystic uru hammer. And two, Thor's been doing it really wrong all these years...
Apparently, Odin wrote:
"CAUTION: Do not poke or swing at people or animals. Use away from breakable objects."
"CAUTION: Do not aim at eyes or face."
"TO AVOID INJURY: Use only missiles designed for this product. Do not modify missiles or blaster."
This tells me two things. One, Odin inexplicably failed to account for the possibility of Spanish speakers lifting the mystic uru hammer. And two, Thor's been doing it really wrong all these years...
Saturday, May 19, 2012
We Are Living in the Future
This.
Oh my God this.
At first, it doesn't seem like that big of a deal. You watch it, and it seems entirely normal and natural...and then it hits you that it's not a special effect. It was not digitally inserted in post-production, there is not someone off-screen with a joystick or a mouse faking it, that is absolutely 100% someone controlling a robot arm with their thoughts. Prototype, yes; primitive, yes; but that moment where you realize that somewhere along the line your life has become a science-fiction movie and the things that writers once dreamed up are now being tested in labs...it's almost vertiginous. You don't quite know what to think.
And then you see the woman at the end, feeding herself for the first time in fifteen years and smiling as people clap for her, and you do. You think, "This is wonderful."
If this is the future, I can't wait to see more of it.
Oh my God this.
At first, it doesn't seem like that big of a deal. You watch it, and it seems entirely normal and natural...and then it hits you that it's not a special effect. It was not digitally inserted in post-production, there is not someone off-screen with a joystick or a mouse faking it, that is absolutely 100% someone controlling a robot arm with their thoughts. Prototype, yes; primitive, yes; but that moment where you realize that somewhere along the line your life has become a science-fiction movie and the things that writers once dreamed up are now being tested in labs...it's almost vertiginous. You don't quite know what to think.
And then you see the woman at the end, feeding herself for the first time in fifteen years and smiling as people clap for her, and you do. You think, "This is wonderful."
If this is the future, I can't wait to see more of it.
Friday, May 11, 2012
When Does Ashton Kutcher Tell Obama He Got Punk'd?
So who among us seriously thought that Mitt Romney would turn out to be a more toxic candidate than Newt Gingrich? I mean, it's only May, and we've already got stories circulating about him attacking gay teenagers with scissors. If 'The Onion' had written that headline, we'd all snort at its unbelievability. And this is after him talking about how he "loves to fire people", "[isn't] concerned about poor people", and that he doesn't watch NASCAR, but he knows lots of the people who own the teams. It's like he's running a bizarre piece of performance art in which he tries to see if conservatives will still vote for him even after he straps a dog to the roof of his car and goes for a drive.
At this rate, I'm just wondering where we'll go next...
June: "Breaking News: Romney Had Two 'Underperforming' Children Sold Off'
July: 'Three Additional Wives Found Imprisoned In Basement Of Romney Mansion'
August: 'Romney Admits To Third Horcrux, But Refuses To Disclose Its Location'
September: 'Romney Selects Davros For Veep'
October: 'Romney Discusses Plans To Strap Dog To Roof Of Air Force One'
November: 'Romney Takes Infant Hostage, Vows To Devour It If Not Elected'
At this rate, I'm just wondering where we'll go next...
June: "Breaking News: Romney Had Two 'Underperforming' Children Sold Off'
July: 'Three Additional Wives Found Imprisoned In Basement Of Romney Mansion'
August: 'Romney Admits To Third Horcrux, But Refuses To Disclose Its Location'
September: 'Romney Selects Davros For Veep'
October: 'Romney Discusses Plans To Strap Dog To Roof Of Air Force One'
November: 'Romney Takes Infant Hostage, Vows To Devour It If Not Elected'
Saturday, May 05, 2012
Dangerous Drinking Games: X-Men Edition
While reading Essential X-Men, Volumes 1-10:
Take a sip every time Cyclops thinks or says the phrase, "my uncontrollable optic blasts".
Take a sip every time a character uses a single word or phrase from their native language in a sentence that otherwise contains perfect English, tovarisch.
Do a shot every time the cover contains the phrase, "Welcome to the X-Men", and the phrase "Hope you survive".
Take a sip every ten times Wolverine calls someone "bub". (Hey, it's "dangerous", not "fatal".)
Do a shot every time Kitty Pryde changes codenames.
Take a sip every time Rogue muses on how sad it is that she's unable to touch anyone due to her mutant powers.
Take a sip every time an issue features a cameo appearance by an obscure Marvel character for no reason other than Chris Claremont wrote their now-canceled series and can't let go of said character. (Candidates include Carol Danvers, Jessica Drew, and Misty Knight from Iron Fist. For truly dangerous living, expand it to include villains like Mystique and Deathbird.)
Take a sip every time Psylocke gets lauded or idolized within the text because Chris Claremont clearly had a major crush on a fictional character.
Do a shot every time a major character dies. Do a second shot to commemorate their resurrection.
Finish the bottle when Storm loses her powers forever, irrevocably, never ever to return because Forge is such a brilliant inventor that nobody could possibly undo his work.
Do a shot every time you find yourself thinking that the Marauders are really kind of pathetic, despite Claremont's best efforts to build them up as a threat so major that the X-Men have to fake their deaths to deal with them.
Take a sip every time someone drops a catchphrase into their dialogue that their character would never in a million years use but that Claremont has grown attached to (such as Storm using military jargon that Claremont thinks sounds "cool".)
Take a sip every time a female character gets mind-controlled. Take a second sip if the mind control makes them dress or behave in a much "sexier" manner. (The inventor of the game does not make any kind of warranty against the potential for alcohol poisoning during the course of this game.)
Finish the bottle again when Storm gets her powers back.
Drink when Magneto gets placed in charge of the Xavier School, and don't stop drinking until it makes sense to you or until you pass out. (Note: This is the point in the drinking game where you're probably going to pass out.)
Take a sip every time Cyclops thinks or says the phrase, "my uncontrollable optic blasts".
Take a sip every time a character uses a single word or phrase from their native language in a sentence that otherwise contains perfect English, tovarisch.
Do a shot every time the cover contains the phrase, "Welcome to the X-Men", and the phrase "Hope you survive".
Take a sip every ten times Wolverine calls someone "bub". (Hey, it's "dangerous", not "fatal".)
Do a shot every time Kitty Pryde changes codenames.
Take a sip every time Rogue muses on how sad it is that she's unable to touch anyone due to her mutant powers.
Take a sip every time an issue features a cameo appearance by an obscure Marvel character for no reason other than Chris Claremont wrote their now-canceled series and can't let go of said character. (Candidates include Carol Danvers, Jessica Drew, and Misty Knight from Iron Fist. For truly dangerous living, expand it to include villains like Mystique and Deathbird.)
Take a sip every time Psylocke gets lauded or idolized within the text because Chris Claremont clearly had a major crush on a fictional character.
Do a shot every time a major character dies. Do a second shot to commemorate their resurrection.
Finish the bottle when Storm loses her powers forever, irrevocably, never ever to return because Forge is such a brilliant inventor that nobody could possibly undo his work.
Do a shot every time you find yourself thinking that the Marauders are really kind of pathetic, despite Claremont's best efforts to build them up as a threat so major that the X-Men have to fake their deaths to deal with them.
Take a sip every time someone drops a catchphrase into their dialogue that their character would never in a million years use but that Claremont has grown attached to (such as Storm using military jargon that Claremont thinks sounds "cool".)
Take a sip every time a female character gets mind-controlled. Take a second sip if the mind control makes them dress or behave in a much "sexier" manner. (The inventor of the game does not make any kind of warranty against the potential for alcohol poisoning during the course of this game.)
Finish the bottle again when Storm gets her powers back.
Drink when Magneto gets placed in charge of the Xavier School, and don't stop drinking until it makes sense to you or until you pass out. (Note: This is the point in the drinking game where you're probably going to pass out.)
Friday, April 27, 2012
Yum! Babies!
For those of you who have never seen an episode of the series "Sweet Genius", context will be provided at the bottom of the post. For those of you who are already familiar with it, we were watching last week when one of the cooks said, narrating his own actions, "So I popped those babies in the pot and got 'em cooking..."
And my roommate said, "Oh, god! He's cooking babies!"
I replied, "Actually, on this show, it's not too unreasonable." I went into my 'Chef Ron' impression, which is much better in text than in real life. "Mmm, yes! Zis baby is delicious! Crisp skin, tender flesh...I am transported!" I paused, imagining Chef Ron's expression hardening. "However." Another pause, a signature of his judging style. "You did not use fresh babies for zis dish. Zis...zis baby is almost a year old. Really more of a toddler. I am...disappointed."
(For those of you who don't have the context to understand why this feels totally appropriate, "Sweet Genius" is a show running on the Food Network. It's a cooking competition show a la "Cupcake Wars", "Chopped", or "Top Chef", but with two significant differences: One, the show is exclusively dessert-centered, and two, the series is absolutely insane. They tried for a sort of "Willy Wonka" eccentric genius aesthetic, but the host, chef Ron Ben-Israel, gives off more of a Blofeldian vibe, leading you to imagine that at any moment, losing contestants will find themselves plunging through a trapdoor into a piranha tank at the press of a single button. Chef Ron's habit of praising people effusively, then pausing menacingly and cutting apart their flaws doesn't help, although they did get rid of the GLaDOS-esque voiceovers for Season Two.)
The show is worth watching. And once you do, I hope that you, like me, can picture him discussing the culinary merits of fresh babies.
And my roommate said, "Oh, god! He's cooking babies!"
I replied, "Actually, on this show, it's not too unreasonable." I went into my 'Chef Ron' impression, which is much better in text than in real life. "Mmm, yes! Zis baby is delicious! Crisp skin, tender flesh...I am transported!" I paused, imagining Chef Ron's expression hardening. "However." Another pause, a signature of his judging style. "You did not use fresh babies for zis dish. Zis...zis baby is almost a year old. Really more of a toddler. I am...disappointed."
(For those of you who don't have the context to understand why this feels totally appropriate, "Sweet Genius" is a show running on the Food Network. It's a cooking competition show a la "Cupcake Wars", "Chopped", or "Top Chef", but with two significant differences: One, the show is exclusively dessert-centered, and two, the series is absolutely insane. They tried for a sort of "Willy Wonka" eccentric genius aesthetic, but the host, chef Ron Ben-Israel, gives off more of a Blofeldian vibe, leading you to imagine that at any moment, losing contestants will find themselves plunging through a trapdoor into a piranha tank at the press of a single button. Chef Ron's habit of praising people effusively, then pausing menacingly and cutting apart their flaws doesn't help, although they did get rid of the GLaDOS-esque voiceovers for Season Two.)
The show is worth watching. And once you do, I hope that you, like me, can picture him discussing the culinary merits of fresh babies.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
SRSLY?
I had something different in mind for this post, but I really just want to make everyone aware of one thing right at this moment: Apparently, Blogger no longer supports Internet Explorer. If I want to use Blogger and actually be able to do things like tag posts, change fonts, or put in links, I have to use a different browser...and while Blogger isn't suggesting I change to any specific different browser, why hey! They're a Google-owned product that just happens to work really well in Google Chrome!
The problem is, of course, that I'm not in a location where I can just download Google Chrome. I'm blogging this on my break at work, and I don't think that my helpdesk would take it kindly if I asked them if I could download a new browser for blogging at work. I'm somewhat upset that Google deliberately made changes to their entirely functional blogging software that they knew would break it if it was used on anyone else's products but their own, purely as a strong-arm tactic to get people to switch to their browser. It seems like a striking violation of their "Don't be evil" mission statement, and I want people to know about it. Normal blogging service, or something like it, will resume tomorrow.
The problem is, of course, that I'm not in a location where I can just download Google Chrome. I'm blogging this on my break at work, and I don't think that my helpdesk would take it kindly if I asked them if I could download a new browser for blogging at work. I'm somewhat upset that Google deliberately made changes to their entirely functional blogging software that they knew would break it if it was used on anyone else's products but their own, purely as a strong-arm tactic to get people to switch to their browser. It seems like a striking violation of their "Don't be evil" mission statement, and I want people to know about it. Normal blogging service, or something like it, will resume tomorrow.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Review: The Shining
No, not that 'Shining'. The other 'Shining'. The 1997 TV miniseries that Stephen King made because he didn't feel that Kubrick did justice to his source material. Remember that one? With Rebecca de Mornay and one of 'My Two Dads'?
Yeah, it didn't exactly eclipse the Kubrick version, did it? Which is, in theory, odd, because King kind of had a point about the movie. Kubrick strips out a lot of the fascinating material about the hotel's history, removes most of Jack's backstory and makes him a cartoonish brute instead of the richly nuanced tragic character of the novel, and reduces the apocalyptic ending to "Jack Nicholson freezes to death in a hedge maze while wearing one of the most embarrassing facial expressions known to man." It doesn't feel like it'd be that hard to do a better job of adapting the book, especially when given the extra time needed both to fill in the extra plot details and allow the tension to build like it did in the book.
But that doesn't take into account the enormous talent of Stanley Kubrick. For all that the novel works brilliantly, it works the same way that all of King's prose works--as an introspective character study. King is brilliant at getting inside his characters' heads, which is why his stories are so damned hard to adapt. Very little of what goes on is expressed through the dialogue, or even the events; it's all about the way people think. Kubrick was one of the few people who could let that out through tiny, almost unnoticed nuances of facial expression and body language (witness Wendy Torrance's explanation of Danny's old injury to the doctor, which has at least three layers of meaning to it from both actresses) and through spectacular camerawork that made otherwise boring infodump scenes watchable as pieces of sheer visual poetry.
For something like the remake to work, you would need a director as talented as Kubrick, or at least nearly as talented as Kubrick, but one whose vision was more in line with King's. Frank Darabont, who's directed several great King adaptations, would have been an excellent choice...so would Sam Raimi, who actually makes a cameo in the miniseries as a gas station attendant. But instead we got Mick Garris, a director mainly known for some 'Amazing Stories' episodes and the equally uninspired mini-series adaptation of 'The Stand'. It's probably a little unfair to say that King bet on the wrong horse here, but it's hard not to notice how little passion Garris gets out of any of the actors here.
And without that level of intensity and commitment in the performances, and without Kubrick's flair for the visuals, it's hard not to notice how damn slow and talky this story is. It really is a story about three people in a hotel having long conversations with each other, and Garris' direction leeches what drama there is out of that. He's not helped by King's teleplay, which makes all of the unspoken subtext into explicit text ("Listen to yourself! You sound just like your dad!") But he also doesn't do much to make the intense moments genuinely intense.
The actors try gamely. Steven Weber is better at playing Jack when he's being a sympathetic father, but he falls back on his sitcom habits when he's trying to play a crazy monster. The net result is something like watching Fred Flintstone devolve into madness. Rebecca de Mornay works hard at her role, but she's saddled with most of the worst dialogue. And Courtland Mead...well, let's just say that it's hard to find genuinely great child actors, and that you'd need one to play this part, and leave it at that.
There are other things I could question--the odd emphasis on AA that wasn't in the book, the decision to render the hedge animals in unconvincing CGI, the decision to make the whole thing as a broadcast television miniseries when one of King's greatest strengths as a writer is the way he turns profanity into an almost mellifluous poetry...but really, I don't think that Garris could have done any better with a better screenplay or better actors. There is, I maintain, a genuinely great version of 'The Shining' yet to be made that bears no resemblance to Kubrick's version...but this is not it.
Yeah, it didn't exactly eclipse the Kubrick version, did it? Which is, in theory, odd, because King kind of had a point about the movie. Kubrick strips out a lot of the fascinating material about the hotel's history, removes most of Jack's backstory and makes him a cartoonish brute instead of the richly nuanced tragic character of the novel, and reduces the apocalyptic ending to "Jack Nicholson freezes to death in a hedge maze while wearing one of the most embarrassing facial expressions known to man." It doesn't feel like it'd be that hard to do a better job of adapting the book, especially when given the extra time needed both to fill in the extra plot details and allow the tension to build like it did in the book.
But that doesn't take into account the enormous talent of Stanley Kubrick. For all that the novel works brilliantly, it works the same way that all of King's prose works--as an introspective character study. King is brilliant at getting inside his characters' heads, which is why his stories are so damned hard to adapt. Very little of what goes on is expressed through the dialogue, or even the events; it's all about the way people think. Kubrick was one of the few people who could let that out through tiny, almost unnoticed nuances of facial expression and body language (witness Wendy Torrance's explanation of Danny's old injury to the doctor, which has at least three layers of meaning to it from both actresses) and through spectacular camerawork that made otherwise boring infodump scenes watchable as pieces of sheer visual poetry.
For something like the remake to work, you would need a director as talented as Kubrick, or at least nearly as talented as Kubrick, but one whose vision was more in line with King's. Frank Darabont, who's directed several great King adaptations, would have been an excellent choice...so would Sam Raimi, who actually makes a cameo in the miniseries as a gas station attendant. But instead we got Mick Garris, a director mainly known for some 'Amazing Stories' episodes and the equally uninspired mini-series adaptation of 'The Stand'. It's probably a little unfair to say that King bet on the wrong horse here, but it's hard not to notice how little passion Garris gets out of any of the actors here.
And without that level of intensity and commitment in the performances, and without Kubrick's flair for the visuals, it's hard not to notice how damn slow and talky this story is. It really is a story about three people in a hotel having long conversations with each other, and Garris' direction leeches what drama there is out of that. He's not helped by King's teleplay, which makes all of the unspoken subtext into explicit text ("Listen to yourself! You sound just like your dad!") But he also doesn't do much to make the intense moments genuinely intense.
The actors try gamely. Steven Weber is better at playing Jack when he's being a sympathetic father, but he falls back on his sitcom habits when he's trying to play a crazy monster. The net result is something like watching Fred Flintstone devolve into madness. Rebecca de Mornay works hard at her role, but she's saddled with most of the worst dialogue. And Courtland Mead...well, let's just say that it's hard to find genuinely great child actors, and that you'd need one to play this part, and leave it at that.
There are other things I could question--the odd emphasis on AA that wasn't in the book, the decision to render the hedge animals in unconvincing CGI, the decision to make the whole thing as a broadcast television miniseries when one of King's greatest strengths as a writer is the way he turns profanity into an almost mellifluous poetry...but really, I don't think that Garris could have done any better with a better screenplay or better actors. There is, I maintain, a genuinely great version of 'The Shining' yet to be made that bears no resemblance to Kubrick's version...but this is not it.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Let's Get This Straight
Earlier today, io9 wrote this article about how self-hating fans cause problems for the very genre fiction they love by criticizing things just to show that they don't have a knee-jerk love of genre works (or to keep "outsiders" from joining their exclusive geek fraternity.) Which is a pretty good message, all told (if for no other reason than I didn't choose "fraternity" by accident--many of the "outsiders" that geeks are trying to keep away are actually insiders that don't happen to be white guys...) But there is one thing I want to make perfectly clear.
I don't hate the 'Transformers' movies out of hipsterism, pretension, or some desire to convince people that I'm more erudite and learned than I actually am. I hate the 'Transformers' movies because they are ineptly executed, dimwitted, sexist, lazy, incompetent crimes against eyeballs, and I am utterly sick of being told every time I mention this, "Oh, you just don't like 'popcorn movies'."
No. I love 'popcorn movies'. 'Jaws', 'Raiders of the Lost Ark', 'Star Wars', the 1999 version of 'The Mummy', 'Iron Man', 'X-Men', 'Spider-Man' and even 'The Rock' are all perfectly silly, perfectly unpretentious pieces of enjoyable entertainment that I can sit down and watch time and time again, and they're only the tip of the iceberg. I did not dislike 'Transformers' because I'm a snob. I disliked it because Michael Bay can't hold a camera steady, because Shia LeBeouf grates on the nerves like biting down on tinfoil, because every shot of every female character either zoomed in on their butts or down their cleavage and yet the film tried to pretend it wasn't sexist because it had women who could fix cars, and because it was a goddamn movie about alien robots that turn into cars and Michael Bay couldn't even make that worth spending a couple of hours watching.
Also, I am annoyed by the perpetual and snide observation, "Well, you say you don't like them, but the sequels keep making money," as though the person has some sort of secret footage of me buying a ticket for the sequels while wearing an unconvincing wig. I didn't see any of the 'Transformers' sequels. You know why? Because they looked even worse than the first one, and it's been a long time since I willingly paid money for a movie that looked like it wasn't worth watching from the trailers.
I understand that there are reflexive hipsters out there who will hate anything that is popular. But please don't assume I'm one of them just because the thing I hate happens to be popular.
I don't hate the 'Transformers' movies out of hipsterism, pretension, or some desire to convince people that I'm more erudite and learned than I actually am. I hate the 'Transformers' movies because they are ineptly executed, dimwitted, sexist, lazy, incompetent crimes against eyeballs, and I am utterly sick of being told every time I mention this, "Oh, you just don't like 'popcorn movies'."
No. I love 'popcorn movies'. 'Jaws', 'Raiders of the Lost Ark', 'Star Wars', the 1999 version of 'The Mummy', 'Iron Man', 'X-Men', 'Spider-Man' and even 'The Rock' are all perfectly silly, perfectly unpretentious pieces of enjoyable entertainment that I can sit down and watch time and time again, and they're only the tip of the iceberg. I did not dislike 'Transformers' because I'm a snob. I disliked it because Michael Bay can't hold a camera steady, because Shia LeBeouf grates on the nerves like biting down on tinfoil, because every shot of every female character either zoomed in on their butts or down their cleavage and yet the film tried to pretend it wasn't sexist because it had women who could fix cars, and because it was a goddamn movie about alien robots that turn into cars and Michael Bay couldn't even make that worth spending a couple of hours watching.
Also, I am annoyed by the perpetual and snide observation, "Well, you say you don't like them, but the sequels keep making money," as though the person has some sort of secret footage of me buying a ticket for the sequels while wearing an unconvincing wig. I didn't see any of the 'Transformers' sequels. You know why? Because they looked even worse than the first one, and it's been a long time since I willingly paid money for a movie that looked like it wasn't worth watching from the trailers.
I understand that there are reflexive hipsters out there who will hate anything that is popular. But please don't assume I'm one of them just because the thing I hate happens to be popular.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Is River Song Sexist?
Actually, I'm not even sure if "sexist" is the right word here. The predominant criticism of River Song isn't so much that she's sexist, although you do get a good few people in there engaging in the popular pastime of "faux-feminist slut-shaming"; it's that she's nothing but a gigantic Mary-Sue that Moffat has inserted into the story. According to this contingent, Moffat is making all the plots revolve around River Song, to the point where she's better than the Doctor at everything and all the important plot points involve her.
To some extent, this is simply a case of not knowing what words mean. A "Mary Sue" is a somewhat vague term, but is generally taken to be an overly idealized, absurdly talented, one-dimensional author surrogate, who is improbably lucky and succeeds where the main character fails, and who is the center of the story even in a canon that has not previously included her. That's the basic definition, as crowdsourced by the Internet.
Now let's look at River song. Since her first appearance, she's been in nine episodes. Out of 37. (Technically ten, if you want to count her cameo at the end of "Closing Time".) If this is a series that "revolves around" her, it's in a very eccentric orbit to say the least. Yes, she features prominently in the Silence arc. That's because the Silence's plan was to use her to kill the Doctor. She failed at that pretty much completely...which pretty much takes care of "improbably lucky and succeeds where the main character fails", too. The only thing she really succeeded at was at getting electrocuted better than the Doctor.
Is she more talented than the Doctor? Many people point to the fact that she can fly the TARDIS better than he can...which would be a totally excellent argument to make if it wasn't a 49-year-long running gag that for all the Doctor's Time Lord training and experience, he's actually a lousy pilot who can't get the TARDIS where he wants it to go better than one in three tries. It's the same joke they did when Romana joined the cast, and that was quite literally before lots of current fans were born.
Overly idealized, one-dimensional author surrogate? Um...unless there's something fairly important about Steven Moffat we don't know, I don't think that he really wants to be a sexy woman who shoots well, rides horses and has hallucinogenic lipstick. He wrote her as a love interest for the Doctor, yes, and he assumed that any love interest for the Doctor has to be something more than a simpering damsel in distress for him to rescue...which is a GOOD THING...but he definitely worked hard to make her more than one-dimensional. Her backstory is interesting, complicated, and paints her as more than a little damaged. Idealized, she ain't.
Which ultimately leaves us with, "She seems to know more than the Doctor. She seems to be as good at things as him. She's talented, and that makes her threatening." Which is, when you break it down, kind of a sexist argument for disliking a character. Not that this is anything new; pretty much any talented female character in fiction is going to get tagged with "Mary Sue" at some point, because women who are good at things and are admired within the story for it are always Mary Sues. (Somehow, Captain Kirk is never considered to be a Mary Sue.) Some people will always seek to tear down any female character who seems skilled and competent, because they view this as exclusively the purview of male characters. They might dress that up as concern, but it's fundamentally a sexist point of view.
Oh, plus she is naked in some scenes and thus has lady parts that she displays without shame, which makes her a Bad Person. (See previous essay.)
So is River Song sexist? Weeeeeeelll....maybe a little. Because while the Doctor's story definitely doesn't revolve around her, it's become increasingly clear that her story revolves around the Doctor. She didn't become an archaeologist because she was interested in old things, as we originally thought; she became an archaeologist to track down the Doctor. She loves the Doctor, she goes to jail for the Doctor, she occasionally attempts to kill the Doctor...there's very little in River Song's story that she does simply because she wants to. It's hard not to argue that this is a somewhat sexist angle on her character, and that she was more interesting before she became the Doctor's "bespoke assassin". Does that make her "sexist"? Probably not by itself. But it's certainly problematic.
But unfortunately, as with Amy Pond, the most sexist thing about River Song is the ways that people find to complain about her.
To some extent, this is simply a case of not knowing what words mean. A "Mary Sue" is a somewhat vague term, but is generally taken to be an overly idealized, absurdly talented, one-dimensional author surrogate, who is improbably lucky and succeeds where the main character fails, and who is the center of the story even in a canon that has not previously included her. That's the basic definition, as crowdsourced by the Internet.
Now let's look at River song. Since her first appearance, she's been in nine episodes. Out of 37. (Technically ten, if you want to count her cameo at the end of "Closing Time".) If this is a series that "revolves around" her, it's in a very eccentric orbit to say the least. Yes, she features prominently in the Silence arc. That's because the Silence's plan was to use her to kill the Doctor. She failed at that pretty much completely...which pretty much takes care of "improbably lucky and succeeds where the main character fails", too. The only thing she really succeeded at was at getting electrocuted better than the Doctor.
Is she more talented than the Doctor? Many people point to the fact that she can fly the TARDIS better than he can...which would be a totally excellent argument to make if it wasn't a 49-year-long running gag that for all the Doctor's Time Lord training and experience, he's actually a lousy pilot who can't get the TARDIS where he wants it to go better than one in three tries. It's the same joke they did when Romana joined the cast, and that was quite literally before lots of current fans were born.
Overly idealized, one-dimensional author surrogate? Um...unless there's something fairly important about Steven Moffat we don't know, I don't think that he really wants to be a sexy woman who shoots well, rides horses and has hallucinogenic lipstick. He wrote her as a love interest for the Doctor, yes, and he assumed that any love interest for the Doctor has to be something more than a simpering damsel in distress for him to rescue...which is a GOOD THING...but he definitely worked hard to make her more than one-dimensional. Her backstory is interesting, complicated, and paints her as more than a little damaged. Idealized, she ain't.
Which ultimately leaves us with, "She seems to know more than the Doctor. She seems to be as good at things as him. She's talented, and that makes her threatening." Which is, when you break it down, kind of a sexist argument for disliking a character. Not that this is anything new; pretty much any talented female character in fiction is going to get tagged with "Mary Sue" at some point, because women who are good at things and are admired within the story for it are always Mary Sues. (Somehow, Captain Kirk is never considered to be a Mary Sue.) Some people will always seek to tear down any female character who seems skilled and competent, because they view this as exclusively the purview of male characters. They might dress that up as concern, but it's fundamentally a sexist point of view.
Oh, plus she is naked in some scenes and thus has lady parts that she displays without shame, which makes her a Bad Person. (See previous essay.)
So is River Song sexist? Weeeeeeelll....maybe a little. Because while the Doctor's story definitely doesn't revolve around her, it's become increasingly clear that her story revolves around the Doctor. She didn't become an archaeologist because she was interested in old things, as we originally thought; she became an archaeologist to track down the Doctor. She loves the Doctor, she goes to jail for the Doctor, she occasionally attempts to kill the Doctor...there's very little in River Song's story that she does simply because she wants to. It's hard not to argue that this is a somewhat sexist angle on her character, and that she was more interesting before she became the Doctor's "bespoke assassin". Does that make her "sexist"? Probably not by itself. But it's certainly problematic.
But unfortunately, as with Amy Pond, the most sexist thing about River Song is the ways that people find to complain about her.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
What Is "Artron Energy"?
Frequently in Doctor Who, both in the new series and the old, there's mention of something called "artron energy", a form of energy that saturates time-travelers, in particular the Doctor but also Amy Pond, Rose Tyler, River Song, and at one point Mickey. It seems to be something that can be harnessed for power, something that has harmless (or possibly benevolent) mutagenic effects, and something that (possibly) provides resistance to strange temporal effects. But what is it, and where does it come from? Usually, people just assume that it's a form of background radiation from the Time Vortex. But because I'm more pathetically geeky than that, I'm going to suggest a stranger alternative.
The key is in the phrase occasionally used to describe the Doctor, "Complex Space-Time Event". Presumably, this differentiates him from a simple space-time event, which gives us a hint as to the nature of a CSTE. Because a simple space-time event is one that has a beginning, a middle, and an end. If you were to be able to draw an outline of it in four-dimensional space, it would have a single continuous shape; even though it moves through three-dimensional space, it is always connected in four-dimensional space. (If I move ten feet to the left, and you could see through time, you would see me as sort of a weird John-shaped tunnel through time.)
Think of it like a stylus moving on a seismometer. The stylus moves up and down erratically, but the line is always contiguous, and always moving forward. That's a simple space-time event. Always contiguous, always in one direction.
But the Doctor doesn't. He can, for lack of a better analogy, lift his stylus up and move it back to an earlier point on the paper. The shape of the Doctor in space-time is not one long line winding its way through three dimensions, it's a series of apparently unconnected shapes in various parts of the graph. He cannot be described with the normal geometry of space-time. He is, in short, a Complex Space-Time Event.
It's my suggestion that the act of traveling in time, moving in ways that are discontiguous, builds up a "charge" almost like shuffling across a carpet builds up static. (At this point in the explanation, my lovely wife reminded me of the exchange from the series itself: "Is that really how it works?" "No! But if that makes sense to you...") Normally, it evens out because you're properly in synch with space time. But Complex Space-Time Events don't dissipate the charge normally, they build it up...and that's artron energy.
Make sense? No? Good. At least I got it off my chest.
The key is in the phrase occasionally used to describe the Doctor, "Complex Space-Time Event". Presumably, this differentiates him from a simple space-time event, which gives us a hint as to the nature of a CSTE. Because a simple space-time event is one that has a beginning, a middle, and an end. If you were to be able to draw an outline of it in four-dimensional space, it would have a single continuous shape; even though it moves through three-dimensional space, it is always connected in four-dimensional space. (If I move ten feet to the left, and you could see through time, you would see me as sort of a weird John-shaped tunnel through time.)
Think of it like a stylus moving on a seismometer. The stylus moves up and down erratically, but the line is always contiguous, and always moving forward. That's a simple space-time event. Always contiguous, always in one direction.
But the Doctor doesn't. He can, for lack of a better analogy, lift his stylus up and move it back to an earlier point on the paper. The shape of the Doctor in space-time is not one long line winding its way through three dimensions, it's a series of apparently unconnected shapes in various parts of the graph. He cannot be described with the normal geometry of space-time. He is, in short, a Complex Space-Time Event.
It's my suggestion that the act of traveling in time, moving in ways that are discontiguous, builds up a "charge" almost like shuffling across a carpet builds up static. (At this point in the explanation, my lovely wife reminded me of the exchange from the series itself: "Is that really how it works?" "No! But if that makes sense to you...") Normally, it evens out because you're properly in synch with space time. But Complex Space-Time Events don't dissipate the charge normally, they build it up...and that's artron energy.
Make sense? No? Good. At least I got it off my chest.
Wednesday, April 04, 2012
Is Amy Pond Sexist?
It may be shocking for you to hear, but...well, some people don't like Amy Pond. (Yes, I know. Take as much time as you need to wrap your head around that idea and then join me at the next sentence.) Despite being a great companion, possibly the best so far in the new Doctor Who series (and cue flamewars in three, two, one...) some people really can't stand her. They say that she's just one more example of why they consider Moffat to be a sexist writer. Amy Pond, according to them, is a stereotypical female character of the worst order, a misogynist caricature of real women that Moffat created as an object of fanboy lust, nothing more.
Is it true? Let's look at Amy. She's clearly not a passive character, which is always one of the big red flags for sexism. Amy makes her own decision to travel in the TARDIS, and she is determined not to give up on it; she's been inadvertently gaslighted for most of her life, being told that the Doctor was just an imaginary friend that it's past time for her to give up on, but she hasn't stopped believing in him for a moment. (And she's avoided winding up in a mental institution despite all that, which indicates that she's socially and emotionally well-adjusted despite dealing with issues that would have sent a lot of people into a rubber room.) She acts as more than just a passenger in the TARDIS, making decisions on matters from space whale survival to whether her husband will get to travel along.
And speaking of her husband...anyone who is trying to claim that Amy is sexist will have to deal with "Mrs. Pond". Amy is very clearly the decision-maker in that relationship, and it is not depicted as dysfunctional or shameful. Rory is not henpecked, he is in awe of his wife's determination and he respects her decision-making ability. While he is always there to reinforce her when she needs it, he does not try to enforce a patriarchal authority over her, because he loves her for who she is and that includes her forcefulness. Amy and Rory's relationship is just about the least sexist, most well-adjusted relationship in any genre series ever.
And Moffat has never put Amy into sexual peril; unlike, say, Peri, the villains do not lust after her body and want to keep her as a trophy bride. Amy gets put into her share of danger, just like the Doctor and the other companions, but it's not represented as specifically due to her gender. (Arguably, she is not a capable fighter, which is apparently a prerequisite for "strong female characters" these days, but neither is anyone else in the series, with the possible exceptions of Ian, Leela, and River Song.)
No, the main reason I think people call Amy "sexist" is...well...not to put to fine a point on it, but she has sex. And she enjoys it. Amy has been known to talk about sex, to ogle men she finds attractive, to ogle women she finds attractive, and to even have enough of a hint of kinkiness to enjoy dressing up in costumes. In short, Amy Pond has genitals and isn't ashamed to say she enjoys using them. To some people, this immediately makes her a terrible slut unworthy of inclusion in the same genre as decent women.
Think I'm exaggerating? Go look at the recaps on TV Without Pity. (Can't link to the site from work, but you should be able to find it with the help of Google.) Until his head exploded from having to talk about women who actually admit to enjoying orgasms, Jacob the recapper inserted constant comments about how Amy's career as a kiss-o-gram showed how damaged she was as a person, and how the Doctor wrecked her by coming into her life and leaving and now all she does is have emotionless flings in order to make money. As a KISS-O-GRAM. God alone knows what he would have said if she'd thrown hugs into the deal.
There is, at heart, a fundamental belief that women who have sex for anything other than procreational purposes are bad. This has been dressed up in countless other beliefs over the eons, and the claim that feminists should be prudes is just one more disguise for it. This doesn't mean that there's no such thing as exploitative sexualization or titillation; of course there is. But a female character shouldn't have to wear a burqa in order to be free of criticism for her feminist credibility, and it's frustrating to see people try to pass off their slut shaming as feminism.
And that doesn't even get into River Song...
Is it true? Let's look at Amy. She's clearly not a passive character, which is always one of the big red flags for sexism. Amy makes her own decision to travel in the TARDIS, and she is determined not to give up on it; she's been inadvertently gaslighted for most of her life, being told that the Doctor was just an imaginary friend that it's past time for her to give up on, but she hasn't stopped believing in him for a moment. (And she's avoided winding up in a mental institution despite all that, which indicates that she's socially and emotionally well-adjusted despite dealing with issues that would have sent a lot of people into a rubber room.) She acts as more than just a passenger in the TARDIS, making decisions on matters from space whale survival to whether her husband will get to travel along.
And speaking of her husband...anyone who is trying to claim that Amy is sexist will have to deal with "Mrs. Pond". Amy is very clearly the decision-maker in that relationship, and it is not depicted as dysfunctional or shameful. Rory is not henpecked, he is in awe of his wife's determination and he respects her decision-making ability. While he is always there to reinforce her when she needs it, he does not try to enforce a patriarchal authority over her, because he loves her for who she is and that includes her forcefulness. Amy and Rory's relationship is just about the least sexist, most well-adjusted relationship in any genre series ever.
And Moffat has never put Amy into sexual peril; unlike, say, Peri, the villains do not lust after her body and want to keep her as a trophy bride. Amy gets put into her share of danger, just like the Doctor and the other companions, but it's not represented as specifically due to her gender. (Arguably, she is not a capable fighter, which is apparently a prerequisite for "strong female characters" these days, but neither is anyone else in the series, with the possible exceptions of Ian, Leela, and River Song.)
No, the main reason I think people call Amy "sexist" is...well...not to put to fine a point on it, but she has sex. And she enjoys it. Amy has been known to talk about sex, to ogle men she finds attractive, to ogle women she finds attractive, and to even have enough of a hint of kinkiness to enjoy dressing up in costumes. In short, Amy Pond has genitals and isn't ashamed to say she enjoys using them. To some people, this immediately makes her a terrible slut unworthy of inclusion in the same genre as decent women.
Think I'm exaggerating? Go look at the recaps on TV Without Pity. (Can't link to the site from work, but you should be able to find it with the help of Google.) Until his head exploded from having to talk about women who actually admit to enjoying orgasms, Jacob the recapper inserted constant comments about how Amy's career as a kiss-o-gram showed how damaged she was as a person, and how the Doctor wrecked her by coming into her life and leaving and now all she does is have emotionless flings in order to make money. As a KISS-O-GRAM. God alone knows what he would have said if she'd thrown hugs into the deal.
There is, at heart, a fundamental belief that women who have sex for anything other than procreational purposes are bad. This has been dressed up in countless other beliefs over the eons, and the claim that feminists should be prudes is just one more disguise for it. This doesn't mean that there's no such thing as exploitative sexualization or titillation; of course there is. But a female character shouldn't have to wear a burqa in order to be free of criticism for her feminist credibility, and it's frustrating to see people try to pass off their slut shaming as feminism.
And that doesn't even get into River Song...
Sunday, April 01, 2012
In Loving Memory
I took my girl to a fancy ball;
It was a social hop.
We waited till the folks got out,
And the music it did stop.
Then to a restaurant we went,
The best one on the street.
She said she wasn't hungry
But this is what she ate.
A dozen raw, a plate of slaw,
A chicken and a roast,
Some applesauce and asparagus,
And soft-shell crabs on toast.
A big box stew, and crackers too;
Her appetite was immense!
When she called for pie,
I thought I'd die,
For I had but fifty cents.
She said she wasn't hungry
And didn't care to eat,
But I've money in my clothes
To bet she can't be beat.
She took it in so cozy,
She had an awful tank.
She said she wasn't thirsty
But this is what she drank.
A whisky skin, a glass of gin,
Which made me shake with fear,
A ginger pop, with rum on top,
A schooner then of beer,
A glass of ale, a gin cocktail.
She should have had more sense.
When she called for more
I fell on the floor
For I had but fifty cents.
Of course I wasn't hungry
And didn't care to eat,
Expecting every moment
To be kicked into the street.
She said she'd fetch her family round,
And some night we'd have fun
But when I gave the man the fifty cents,
This is what he done:
He tore my clothes,
He smashed my nose,
He hit me on the jaw,
He gave me a prize
Of a pair of black eyes
And with me swept the floor.
He took me where my pants hung loose,
And threw me over the fence.
Now take my advice, don't try it twice
If you've got but fifty cents.
It was a social hop.
We waited till the folks got out,
And the music it did stop.
Then to a restaurant we went,
The best one on the street.
She said she wasn't hungry
But this is what she ate.
A dozen raw, a plate of slaw,
A chicken and a roast,
Some applesauce and asparagus,
And soft-shell crabs on toast.
A big box stew, and crackers too;
Her appetite was immense!
When she called for pie,
I thought I'd die,
For I had but fifty cents.
She said she wasn't hungry
And didn't care to eat,
But I've money in my clothes
To bet she can't be beat.
She took it in so cozy,
She had an awful tank.
She said she wasn't thirsty
But this is what she drank.
A whisky skin, a glass of gin,
Which made me shake with fear,
A ginger pop, with rum on top,
A schooner then of beer,
A glass of ale, a gin cocktail.
She should have had more sense.
When she called for more
I fell on the floor
For I had but fifty cents.
Of course I wasn't hungry
And didn't care to eat,
Expecting every moment
To be kicked into the street.
She said she'd fetch her family round,
And some night we'd have fun
But when I gave the man the fifty cents,
This is what he done:
He tore my clothes,
He smashed my nose,
He hit me on the jaw,
He gave me a prize
Of a pair of black eyes
And with me swept the floor.
He took me where my pants hung loose,
And threw me over the fence.
Now take my advice, don't try it twice
If you've got but fifty cents.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Even I Hate My Brain Sometimes
This actually sounds like a good idea for a series: A group of superheroes tracks down a criminal organization that hides out where the law can't touch them...within the collective unconscious. Each week, a criminal manifests himself as a powerful archetype, and the heroes must battle by using their own archetypes to heal the mental traumas of the person whose body the criminal is using to commit crimes. Thus, by healing the victim's psyche, the heroes block off one more access into the world for injustice, setting up a final battle where the villains will be forced to incarnate themselves physically or risk being trapped within the shadows of humanity's unexpressed dark side forever.
Why does this depress me? Because I came up with the title first.
"Jung Justice."
Why does this depress me? Because I came up with the title first.
"Jung Justice."
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Review: Midnight Riot
First, a disclaimer: When it comes to author Ben Aaronovitch, I have a well-known, self-avowed tendency to gush. I have adored his writing since the late 80s, when he was one of the young writers who creatively revitalized Doctor Who just as the public lost interest in the series, then shepherded it into the 90s with several extremely well-received and amazingly well-written Doctor Who novels (to say nothing of the inspiration he provided to other excellent Doctor Who writers like Kate Orman, Marc Platt, and Paul Cornell.) So when I say, "Ben Aaronovitch's novel 'Midnight Riot' (released in the UK as 'Rivers of London') is absolutely magnificent," I will agree that those words would not surprise anyone who knew me.
That said, Ben Aaronovitch's new novel 'Midnight Riot' is absolutely magnificent. Aaronovitch's great skill is that he can slip effortlessly into any genre; in 'Transit', one of his older Doctor Who novels, he out-Gibsoned Gibson in a cyberpunk pastiche, and in 'The Also People', he did an Iain M. Banks pastiche that was superior to any of the actual Culture books. Here, he does "urban fantasy", and gives you a book that feels like what Neil Gaiman was aiming for with 'Neverwhere' but never really had the chance to make work.
The novel concerns Peter Grant, a rookie policeman who strikes up a conversation with a witness who turns out to be a ghost while securing a crime scene, and finds out that there's a place for people who can sense the supernatural in the Metropolitan Police Force. He winds up apprenticed to the only police wizard in Britain, and has to learn the ins and outs of magic while solving a string of grisly murders and brokering a peace between the river spirits of London. (Hence the original title, which is more evocative but probably didn't have enough "sex appeal" to market in America.)
It's a solid plot idea by itself, but as always, what makes it work is that Aaronovitch is so bloody readable. Every damn line flows smoothly and melodiously into the next, every scene keeps you fascinated. From Peter's first encounter with London vampires, which is resolved the way everyone should resolve problems with the undead, to his gloriously poetic final confrontation with a murderous revenant, everything pulls you along so smoothly and easily that I went straight from the first book to the sequel, "Moon Over Soho", without skipping a beat. The main character is likable (and mixed-race, because one of Ben Aaronovitch's many many positive qualities is that he makes a solid effort to walk the talk on multiculturalism.) And the supporting cast is so great that I don't want to talk any more about the plot because I don't want to spoil anything.
And I don't. I really want everyone to experience this novel, because it's great. Ben Aaronovitch is a great writer who I am profoundly glad to reacquaint myself with, and I can't recommend this book enough.
But again, when it comes to Ben Aaronovitch, I have a tendency to gush.
That said, Ben Aaronovitch's new novel 'Midnight Riot' is absolutely magnificent. Aaronovitch's great skill is that he can slip effortlessly into any genre; in 'Transit', one of his older Doctor Who novels, he out-Gibsoned Gibson in a cyberpunk pastiche, and in 'The Also People', he did an Iain M. Banks pastiche that was superior to any of the actual Culture books. Here, he does "urban fantasy", and gives you a book that feels like what Neil Gaiman was aiming for with 'Neverwhere' but never really had the chance to make work.
The novel concerns Peter Grant, a rookie policeman who strikes up a conversation with a witness who turns out to be a ghost while securing a crime scene, and finds out that there's a place for people who can sense the supernatural in the Metropolitan Police Force. He winds up apprenticed to the only police wizard in Britain, and has to learn the ins and outs of magic while solving a string of grisly murders and brokering a peace between the river spirits of London. (Hence the original title, which is more evocative but probably didn't have enough "sex appeal" to market in America.)
It's a solid plot idea by itself, but as always, what makes it work is that Aaronovitch is so bloody readable. Every damn line flows smoothly and melodiously into the next, every scene keeps you fascinated. From Peter's first encounter with London vampires, which is resolved the way everyone should resolve problems with the undead, to his gloriously poetic final confrontation with a murderous revenant, everything pulls you along so smoothly and easily that I went straight from the first book to the sequel, "Moon Over Soho", without skipping a beat. The main character is likable (and mixed-race, because one of Ben Aaronovitch's many many positive qualities is that he makes a solid effort to walk the talk on multiculturalism.) And the supporting cast is so great that I don't want to talk any more about the plot because I don't want to spoil anything.
And I don't. I really want everyone to experience this novel, because it's great. Ben Aaronovitch is a great writer who I am profoundly glad to reacquaint myself with, and I can't recommend this book enough.
But again, when it comes to Ben Aaronovitch, I have a tendency to gush.
Monday, March 12, 2012
A Collective of Borg
On Sunday, as I was driving my wife home, we were discussing the collective nouns for different animals. (Starting with "an unkindness of ravens" and "a murder of crows", two of the most evocative.) From there, of course, my mind naturally leapt to Mike Nelson's musings on the collective noun for zombies, as delivered in his commentary track for 'Night of the Living Dead'.
"A shamble,"I said aloud. "A shamble of zombies."
She nodded. "And a halitosis of vampires. And a sparkle of Cullens."
From there, it progressed to Doctor Who, with me suggesting "a shout of Daleks", and her coming up with "a mojo of Judoon." (I remember she also suggested "a mold of Autons", but some of the others escape me.)
Of course, I also think "a collective of Borg" is worth mentioning, if for no other reason than it sounds so utterly literal as to be perfect for Borg.
Needless to say, I someday want to write this into an actual Doctor Who script, with the Doctor musing on what the proper collective noun for Daleks would be. When they start screaming at him, he'd suddenly exclaim, "A shout!"
Any of you have collective nouns for fictional creatures you'd like to share?
"A shamble,"I said aloud. "A shamble of zombies."
She nodded. "And a halitosis of vampires. And a sparkle of Cullens."
From there, it progressed to Doctor Who, with me suggesting "a shout of Daleks", and her coming up with "a mojo of Judoon." (I remember she also suggested "a mold of Autons", but some of the others escape me.)
Of course, I also think "a collective of Borg" is worth mentioning, if for no other reason than it sounds so utterly literal as to be perfect for Borg.
Needless to say, I someday want to write this into an actual Doctor Who script, with the Doctor musing on what the proper collective noun for Daleks would be. When they start screaming at him, he'd suddenly exclaim, "A shout!"
Any of you have collective nouns for fictional creatures you'd like to share?
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
The Scariest Thing You'll Ever Read
The other day, my wife and I were discussing the news that against all common sense and basic human decency, the Transformers franchise has not yet breathed its last. "Transformers 4," I mused. "Just think of the waste. All that money going to such an utter void of talent."
"Yeah," my wife said. "They could have used that money to finally make the 'Elfquest' movie, for a start."
I chuckled, knowing that my wife is an ardent Elfquest fan who awaits the Elfquest movie in much the same way that a Cubs fan awaits that World Series ring. But then I thought to myself, "But what if they got Michael Bay to do the Elfquest movie?"
The image came to me in a vivid flash. All of the strong, beautiful female characters replaced with simpering eye-candy. The open acceptance of alternative lifestyles done over as macho gay panic "male bonding". Shaky-cam upon shaky-cam, explosions in a fantasy world that doesn't even have gunpowder yet, either Cutter or Skywise played by Shia LaBeouf...
My wife noticed my shudder and faint, inarticulate cry of revulsion. "Whatever it is," she said, "I don't want to know." I knew she was having a rough day, so I decided not to tell her. But I had to share it with someone eventually. (When you read this, um...sorry, honey. But at least I waited until you had a little chance to brace yourself for it!)
"Yeah," my wife said. "They could have used that money to finally make the 'Elfquest' movie, for a start."
I chuckled, knowing that my wife is an ardent Elfquest fan who awaits the Elfquest movie in much the same way that a Cubs fan awaits that World Series ring. But then I thought to myself, "But what if they got Michael Bay to do the Elfquest movie?"
The image came to me in a vivid flash. All of the strong, beautiful female characters replaced with simpering eye-candy. The open acceptance of alternative lifestyles done over as macho gay panic "male bonding". Shaky-cam upon shaky-cam, explosions in a fantasy world that doesn't even have gunpowder yet, either Cutter or Skywise played by Shia LaBeouf...
My wife noticed my shudder and faint, inarticulate cry of revulsion. "Whatever it is," she said, "I don't want to know." I knew she was having a rough day, so I decided not to tell her. But I had to share it with someone eventually. (When you read this, um...sorry, honey. But at least I waited until you had a little chance to brace yourself for it!)
Sunday, February 19, 2012
My Crazy 'Shining' Theory
Last week, on my guest post at Mightygodking.com, I wrote about why people might see the classic Kubrick film 'The Shining' and see all sorts of crazy things. It's been viewed through a lot of different lenses and has been seen as a Holocaust analogy, a polemic on the gold standard, and a symbolic allegory for the genocide of native Americans. But in the end, I rejected the notions that tiny clues in the film could point the direction to Kubrick's "true" intent.
Then I went and rewatched the movie. And true to form, I noticed a tiny clue that I think points to what Kubrick was intending. And like everyone else over the years, I think I'm right here, based on what I know about Kubrick and his film-making style and his personality.
I think the key is in the TV show Danny is watching, just before Jack completely loses it and threatens to kill Wendy for the first time. (The classic "give me the bat" scene.) Danny and Wendy are sitting together, eating lunch and watching cartoons...and the theme song is the old "Road Runner" theme. ("Road Runner! The coyote's after you! Road Runner! If he catches you, you're through!") Now, this was something Kubrick would have had to obtain permission to use. He could have used any cartoon, any kid's show, really anything at all. But he wanted people to be subconsciously thinking about the Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote, and he wanted them to be thinking about it right as the action ramped up and Jack's dementia turned lethal. Why?
Because that's what he wanted people to be viewing the last act of 'The Shining' as--as a gigantic, dark, twisted version of the Coyote/Road Runner cartoon, with Jack as Wile E. Coyote and Danny as the Road Runner. Jack is relentless, pursuing Danny with a single-minded obsession (but simultaneously narrating events with an otherwise inexplicable good cheer), while Danny is fleeing with no particular goal or aim. And just like in the classic cartoons, Jack receives injury after injury, getting whacked on the head and falling down a flight of stairs and getting locked in the pantry and finally getting lost in the hedge maze. While Danny runs out and away with a "meep meep!"
It makes sense. Kubrick was known to have a mischievous sense of humor. He was known to make movies that started serious and turned into black comedies as it slowly became clear to him that he couldn't keep a straight face behind the camera. It explains why Jack's madness slowly ramps up to "cartoonish" levels as the film goes on. Kubrick meant for you to laugh at Jack even as the situation creeped you out--the whole thing is one big live-action cartoon.
A cartoon about the Kennedy assassination being a CIA operation, of course. See, the references to July 4th in the final scene...
Then I went and rewatched the movie. And true to form, I noticed a tiny clue that I think points to what Kubrick was intending. And like everyone else over the years, I think I'm right here, based on what I know about Kubrick and his film-making style and his personality.
I think the key is in the TV show Danny is watching, just before Jack completely loses it and threatens to kill Wendy for the first time. (The classic "give me the bat" scene.) Danny and Wendy are sitting together, eating lunch and watching cartoons...and the theme song is the old "Road Runner" theme. ("Road Runner! The coyote's after you! Road Runner! If he catches you, you're through!") Now, this was something Kubrick would have had to obtain permission to use. He could have used any cartoon, any kid's show, really anything at all. But he wanted people to be subconsciously thinking about the Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote, and he wanted them to be thinking about it right as the action ramped up and Jack's dementia turned lethal. Why?
Because that's what he wanted people to be viewing the last act of 'The Shining' as--as a gigantic, dark, twisted version of the Coyote/Road Runner cartoon, with Jack as Wile E. Coyote and Danny as the Road Runner. Jack is relentless, pursuing Danny with a single-minded obsession (but simultaneously narrating events with an otherwise inexplicable good cheer), while Danny is fleeing with no particular goal or aim. And just like in the classic cartoons, Jack receives injury after injury, getting whacked on the head and falling down a flight of stairs and getting locked in the pantry and finally getting lost in the hedge maze. While Danny runs out and away with a "meep meep!"
It makes sense. Kubrick was known to have a mischievous sense of humor. He was known to make movies that started serious and turned into black comedies as it slowly became clear to him that he couldn't keep a straight face behind the camera. It explains why Jack's madness slowly ramps up to "cartoonish" levels as the film goes on. Kubrick meant for you to laugh at Jack even as the situation creeped you out--the whole thing is one big live-action cartoon.
A cartoon about the Kennedy assassination being a CIA operation, of course. See, the references to July 4th in the final scene...
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Life Lessons From 'The Lion King'
1) When there isn't enough for everyone, it's just better to have a class of privileged few who get the majority of the resources and an underclass who are forced to live in a ghetto and eat scraps. It's the natural way of things, and trying to change that by giving more to the lower classes will just result in disaster.
2) The rest of us should be happy to be ruled over by a group of predatory overlords who will devour us whole should we become sick or weak. Someday, eventually, in a vague and symbolic manner, karma will even things up.
3) Physical strength and charm are the defining characteristics for a leader; someone smart is probably just evil anyway. Don't listen to them.
4) Likewise, leadership should be hereditary. Good genes define intangible traits like sound judgment and political skill. Even if there's no evidence of leadership exhibited by the son of a leader, simply putting him in charge will instantly bring those traits to the forefront and make him the superior choice.
5) In any family, accents will be entirely variable in terms of ethnic and socio-economic background; coincidentally, the voice that sounds whitest will always be the person the story revolves around, while British-sounding people are invariably evil. African-American voices usually mean that you will be wise and dignified...but also that you're probably going to die in the first act.
2) The rest of us should be happy to be ruled over by a group of predatory overlords who will devour us whole should we become sick or weak. Someday, eventually, in a vague and symbolic manner, karma will even things up.
3) Physical strength and charm are the defining characteristics for a leader; someone smart is probably just evil anyway. Don't listen to them.
4) Likewise, leadership should be hereditary. Good genes define intangible traits like sound judgment and political skill. Even if there's no evidence of leadership exhibited by the son of a leader, simply putting him in charge will instantly bring those traits to the forefront and make him the superior choice.
5) In any family, accents will be entirely variable in terms of ethnic and socio-economic background; coincidentally, the voice that sounds whitest will always be the person the story revolves around, while British-sounding people are invariably evil. African-American voices usually mean that you will be wise and dignified...but also that you're probably going to die in the first act.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Top Dog
The Westminster Dog Show is on even as I type; this is actually something of a favorite in our household, as it gives you a chance to see all sorts of incredibly cute dogs that I would never in my lifetime want to actually own. (St. Bernard's? Adorable. St. Bernard poop? This is why I only watch them on TV.)
And of course, the announcers are constantly talking about the reasons each dog were bred, their strengths, and the reasons people would want to own one. "One of the biggest dogs recognized by the American Kennel Club, the massive Mastiff loves being around people and is known to bond closely with his ‘family.’ A combination of grandeur and good nature as well as courage and docility, he was bred in England and used as a watchdog for more than two thousand years. The breed’s short coat can be fawn, apricot or brindle." (An actual quote from the American Kennel Club website, but I'm pretty sure that's what they read off when they introduce the dog.)
And hearing this, I suddenly pictured Jeremy Clarkson saying, "At least...that's what the Kennel Club says. We wanted to see if it was actually true. So we had the Stig take this 2011 Mastiff out for a walk out on our test course." And then it'd cut to a sequence of a man wearing a racing suit and face-concealing driving helmet, going out for a walk with a mastiff while Clarkson delivered a monologue consisting of things like, "The Mastiff's reputation is of a watchdog, but frankly, if this Mastiff is a watchdog, it's a watchdog that loses at least two minutes a day." Then perhaps there'd be a long montage of them trying to breed their own dogs, and a celebrity coming on the show to take out a dog for a spin around the track.
And naturally, the show titles itself. "Top Dog".
Oh, go on. You know you want to see it.
And of course, the announcers are constantly talking about the reasons each dog were bred, their strengths, and the reasons people would want to own one. "One of the biggest dogs recognized by the American Kennel Club, the massive Mastiff loves being around people and is known to bond closely with his ‘family.’ A combination of grandeur and good nature as well as courage and docility, he was bred in England and used as a watchdog for more than two thousand years. The breed’s short coat can be fawn, apricot or brindle." (An actual quote from the American Kennel Club website, but I'm pretty sure that's what they read off when they introduce the dog.)
And hearing this, I suddenly pictured Jeremy Clarkson saying, "At least...that's what the Kennel Club says. We wanted to see if it was actually true. So we had the Stig take this 2011 Mastiff out for a walk out on our test course." And then it'd cut to a sequence of a man wearing a racing suit and face-concealing driving helmet, going out for a walk with a mastiff while Clarkson delivered a monologue consisting of things like, "The Mastiff's reputation is of a watchdog, but frankly, if this Mastiff is a watchdog, it's a watchdog that loses at least two minutes a day." Then perhaps there'd be a long montage of them trying to breed their own dogs, and a celebrity coming on the show to take out a dog for a spin around the track.
And naturally, the show titles itself. "Top Dog".
Oh, go on. You know you want to see it.
Monday, February 06, 2012
Watchmen On My Mind
In the wake of the announcement of 'Before Watchmen', the whole topic of Alan Moore and DC is weighing on my mind. (Not tremendously, or anything. I won't suggest that when they showed the Avengers trailer just before half-time during a very exciting Super Bowl, I sat there lost in ennui because Alan Moore doesn't have the rights to 'Watchmen'. But I've been thinking about it a bit.)
And mainly what I've been thinking about is the 'Watchmen' contract. Per Alan Moore's deal with DC, the rights to 'Watchmen' revert to Moore and Gibbons within 1 year of the original story going out of print. Everyone knows that this is a big part of why DC continues to promote a 25 year-old property so aggressively; they need to keep selling it to keep the rights in their hands. And everyone agrees that this is a travesty, a perversion of the spirit of the original contract. But at that point, everyone just sort of sighs and throws up their hands in despair.
Why don't we force the book out of print?
I mean, I don't think it would be easy. But I think that a concerted grassroots campaign to get local comics stores to stop stocking 'Watchmen' so long as it's being published by DC, with the understanding that Moore and Gibbons would be able to reprint the book once they're the rights-holders, could really put a lot of financial pressure on DC if they made the decision to try to continue reprinting the series just to keep the rights. There would still be a few high-profile national chains, like Barnes and Noble, who probably couldn't be persuaded through grassroots effort, but if the whole thing went nationwide, they might cave in just for the PR value. And while DC might go to some extraordinary lengths to claim the book is still "in print" ("We're giving away promotional copies to this charity! Still in print!") ...they're as vulnerable to bad press as the next person. If sales actually suffered, they might have to give in.
Of course, this is easy for me to say--I already have a copy of 'Watchmen'. But I'm guessing that most comics fans do too. I'm game if you are...
And mainly what I've been thinking about is the 'Watchmen' contract. Per Alan Moore's deal with DC, the rights to 'Watchmen' revert to Moore and Gibbons within 1 year of the original story going out of print. Everyone knows that this is a big part of why DC continues to promote a 25 year-old property so aggressively; they need to keep selling it to keep the rights in their hands. And everyone agrees that this is a travesty, a perversion of the spirit of the original contract. But at that point, everyone just sort of sighs and throws up their hands in despair.
Why don't we force the book out of print?
I mean, I don't think it would be easy. But I think that a concerted grassroots campaign to get local comics stores to stop stocking 'Watchmen' so long as it's being published by DC, with the understanding that Moore and Gibbons would be able to reprint the book once they're the rights-holders, could really put a lot of financial pressure on DC if they made the decision to try to continue reprinting the series just to keep the rights. There would still be a few high-profile national chains, like Barnes and Noble, who probably couldn't be persuaded through grassroots effort, but if the whole thing went nationwide, they might cave in just for the PR value. And while DC might go to some extraordinary lengths to claim the book is still "in print" ("We're giving away promotional copies to this charity! Still in print!") ...they're as vulnerable to bad press as the next person. If sales actually suffered, they might have to give in.
Of course, this is easy for me to say--I already have a copy of 'Watchmen'. But I'm guessing that most comics fans do too. I'm game if you are...
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