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?
Friday, June 29, 2012
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.
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