FRED Entertainment

August 4, 2006

Take Me Home Blog #4 – How to Kill Your Brain

Filed under: Production Blogs,Take Me Home Blog — UncaScroogeMcD @ 3:45 am

 

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I’m 29. And a half (for any small children reading this). I am, by most standards, pretty young. Still able to fully enjoy sports (Tecmo Super Bowl being my favorite). Still able to avoid the allure of Matlock. If it weren’t for the possible return of shingles, I’d be in peak shape.

No, it’s not a rectal problem (7). Shingles have to do with chicken pox, and are supposed to arrive during times of intense stress on the body. In my case, they’ve set up shop on the bridge of my nose. So, what is it exactly that’s making me this stressed? WAITING. Or, more precisely, WAITING FOR OUR FUNDING.

PROLOGUE: December of 2005. I was in the kitchen breaking dishes when I was pulled into an interview with the Polish Brothers on NPR. If you haven’t heard of them, they wrote and directed Northfork, as well as Twin Falls, Idaho. They were promoting their book, The Declaration of Independent Filmmaking, and discussed some of the most valuable lessons learned from producing three independent films. One of the most compelling lessons was:

DON’T WAIT AROUND FOR FUNDING. Everybody does. Everybody in this world, not just those of us out there making a film, mind you… EVERYBODY is waiting for the bling. But it should not be so, say the Polish Brothers. They believe young filmmakers need to shoot for a start date rather than a budget. Once that date comes, whether you’ve got five thousand dollars or five hundred thousand, you are shooting that damn movie. “And why not,” I thought. I was proud of the script, I was confident in my abilities as a director, I had no recurring chicken pox virus with which to contend. Seemed like a grand idea.

And for that reason, I decided that we were going to shoot Take Me Home in 2006! Nay, SUMMER of 2006!!! Call the rental houses! Get my mother a baker’s cap! We’re making what is sure to be one of the Greatest Road-Trip Movies of All-Time!!!

FLASH FORWARD: July 2006. Ain’t happenin’. This is not, afterall, going to be a summer road-trip movie, but a FALL road-trip movie. We were to start shooting on August 7th. That has been pushed. And why, among other reasons? We are WAITING. Or, more precisely, WAITING FOR OUR FUNDING.

I FELL FOR IT. The Polish Brothers told me not to, and yet here I am; the throb of shingles starting to work its way into my forehead. In December, I loved the idea of just making this movie on a certain date. So we set our date. And come hell or high water, we were going to start on that date. However, about three months ago we got involved with a great guy who has ties to a solid group of investors. And, because I’m such a good boy, such a smart boy, I started to dream about actually PAYING our crew. Y’know, keep them happy. At the very least, keep them from rioting. If it was going to be as easy as it seemed at the time, I thought “why not?” What could be the worst that could happen?

So we started planning to make our film with not one, but two budgets. The first budget with the prospective investment, the second with my own money. With an unpaid crew, with stolen locations, props, possibly even equipment. You can start to see how easy it was to attach ourselves to shooting with the first budget.

So…

-TWO MONTHS AGO we contacted a lawyer to draw up a contract between ourselves and the investors.
-A MONTH-AND-A-HALF AGO we were to have that money in our film’s account.
-THREE WEEKS AGO, we decided to postpone the movie in order to square that money away. -TWO WEEKS AGO we were told the money was to be transferred in the same day.
-LAST WEEK we stopped hearing from them.
-THIS WEEK I have shingles.
-Any bets on what bodily malfunctions occur NEXT WEEK?

There is still promise. I’m “mildly confident”, if such a term exists. Our tie to the investors happens to be (did I mention?) a GREAT GUY. And being a good boy myself, I’m inclined to believe the Great Guy when he says the money is coming in very, very soon. In the meantime, I offer you all this tidbit of advice:

DON’T WAIT FOR THE MONEY. Keep doing the work; work on the script, work on finding locations, work on assembling a good crew that knows what a fiasco they’re getting into. In hindsight, we tried preparing for two different films, but we only focused on the big one.

EPILOGUE:
My friend Jeff Passino wrote a great script. It took place in one room with two characters. After he had slaved over the last draft, I asked him what he was going to do with it. “Find financing,” he said. When I asked how much he was hoping to get, he said five hundred thousand. “What could you possibly need $500,000 for?” He told me he wanted to pay the actors and get a great cinematographer. But…500K? He better be resurrecting Conrad Hall for that much.

That said, I understand where Jeff’s coming from. My man spent a year writing and re-writing his baby. He wanted to get it done right. I certainly do. But…

IT’S NOT GOING TO BE PERFECT. Never. You’re making a film; it’s a very tenuous process. Just work the budget; get that sucker taught. Then shoot the damn movie. I agree with the Polish Brothers; don’t wait around for money. If you can get your story across for ten grand rather than 500 grand, do it.

Your body will thank you.

-Recommended Viewing: Primer. Shot for $7000 on Super 16mm. Marvel over how Shane Carruth and Co. crafted this metaphysical thriller for scraps. Featuring an excellent director commentary.

-Sam Jaeger

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Scrubs Blog: Scooter Charity

Filed under: Production Blogs,Quickcasts,Scrubs Blog — UncaScroogeMcD @ 3:41 am
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Before we get to this week’s entry, let me mention that you should be sure to check back each week for more Scrubs goodies, even during the summer hiatus”¦

VIDEO BLOG #57: “My Scooter Signing” ““
In support of the National Multiple Sclerosis Society, a Scrubs Scooter is being raffled off on October 7th. Tickets for the auction can be purchased online right now for $5.00, with all the money going to the National Multiple Sclerosis Society. Watch the second part of our behind-the-scenes look at the creation of the scooter, as the cast signs away, and then head over to the MS site and enter by CLICKING HERE

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Download/Watch Scrubs Video Blog #57:        

     

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Reflections on Comic-Con 2006 or: Why M.C. Bell Isn’t as Big of a Weasel as Some Would Think But Who Still Otherwise Looks Like Fred Gwynne from The Munsters.

Filed under: Trailer Park — admin @ 3:32 am

By Christopher Stipp

Archives? Right Here…

I liked SNEAKERS as a film. It was whimsy, light but has something to it that I just cannot rail against in any capacity. I think that the “too many secrets” idea is one that had real resonance for a number of reasons just beyond the movie itself. This kind of notion, that there is a machine that can obtain whatever it wants from wherever it goes and that information is power depending on who owns it, fits in perfectly for how my Comic-Con of 2006 experience ultimately left me feeling.

You’ve no doubt seen all the up-the-minute, some literally up-to-the-second, coverage that happened on the floor in the convention halls. In the press section where I sat for many of the great panels on parade I could hear, in the quiet moments between really awkward questions, requests (“Can I give you a hug?” directed at the talent for 300 was, perhaps, the most painful) and pauses from geeks who just couldn’t get it together for their few seconds in the literal spotlight, I heard the click-clacks of live blogging.

A lot of that content went to sites that shall remain nameless. I would hope and suggest, though, that many of these very same authors figure out that Strunk & White is not just a new television show on the FX network and that one of the greatest assets to people who do nothing but write real emotional screeds look into the eyes of proper sentence construction and learn how to use their newfound abilities to liveblog in a way that’s meaningful. That said, some of the other information that went to a little known site called the Risky Biz Blog from the very kind, polite and lethally literate contributors of The Hollywood Reporter. 

While I was sitting in my very unforgiving, very uncomfortable metal ass hammock I was able to pull up a lot of sites on my little iBook and was amazed at the difference between what two different perspectives can bring to the absolute same story. One was well-written, concise and brought some context to the subject matter that presupposed, for a moment, some people needed a little background while some other suffered from the kind of erratic reporting that I would expect out of a 12 year-old girl who’s trying to push a day’s worth of emotional trauma in middle school into a 10 second blast. It then should follow, then, as to which outlet, take a wild, Hitchcockian stab, enjoyed the most exclusive “OMFG! Dood! wOOt!” access while there.

I had went into all my roundtables with the idea that maybe, perhaps, quite possibly, I’d have enough juice to at least bring you one uninterrupted conversation that didn’t include one outlet’s constant question of the 2 different SPIDER-MAN 3 panels and one GHOST RIDER panel about whether, if you, like, could, you know, have a crossover movie with, like, another comic book universe what would it be, but I just resigned myself to Quick Stop’s place in the social order of things and just enjoyed the ride. On my own, and the many different ways I begged like a jonsin’ junkie, I ended up with nothing. Mr. Ken Plume, our esteemed EIC here, did a bang-up job of landing 1:1 time with the guys of HOT FUZZ and BALLS OF FURY while inviting me along, graciously, to enjoy the solitude of the Omni Hotel on a Sunday morning with some of the funniest men that are working in entertainment today.

It was nice. Thinking about who got what and why my many calls went unreturned (A lowbrow commentary on the subject? Just a dick move.) does nothing in the grand scheme of it all. 

I just look back at what 2006 yielded me for this site and while it’s easy to chalk it up to a bust, apart from the nerds I crushed and mauled getting a ticket to see BORAT, but there was some great roundtable moments that didn’t include socially retarded questioning from people who obviously had nothing else to offer a conversation but their ignorance.

Believe it or not I enjoyed the living hell out of the SNAKES ON A PLANE panel. It was 4 separate “interviews” of about 5-6 journalists (if you could call us that) at 4 separate tables, with the talent rotating like some grown-up version of musical chairs, and I really had an enjoyable time talking with the film’s snake wrangler, a proposition I know doesn’t sound all that great but believe you me it was, Sam Jackson, who summed up his reason for making this movie perfectly and understands its complete absurdness as a vehicle with alarming clarity, the director and then Kenan Thompson who, donning a pair of sunglasses that Jackie O. would’ve thought were too damn big, seemed “somewhere else” during the conversation and was loose enough to essentially state what seems like the ending for the film without so much of an “oops.” Solid panel all the way around.

There was Bryan Singer’s SUPERMAN RETURNS panel which was noticeably thin on people from the media but it looked like he was almost at the end of his emotional rope with regard to talking about this film. He appeared worn and in need for some long rest. It spoke well of him that he was able to be present for this after-the-fact kind of get-together and while it didn’t yield any great kernels of misgivings he might have about the final cut that’s out there my offer of $5 to anyone who would ask a question about the not so great showing at the box office by dollars and critics went unanswered. Damn.

The GHOST RIDER panel was just swamped with geeks. Really. It was Noah’s Ark and we all wanted on that ship. Everyone vied for a chance to speak to Nic Cage/Mendes/Johnson about this long delayed production but it led right into the panel that everyone was there for: SPIDER-MAN 3. Now, while I intrinsically high-fived myself for being able to wedge in a question to Kirsten and Tobey in the cacophony of other journos yelling out requests like this was a press conference to discuss how a new cancer pill, available only in an anal suppository, has cured everyone who’s taken it, it should come as a surprise to some that it was really Thomas Hayden Church who was the real belle of the ball. The man is simply amusing, charming and seems like a guy who could give a colorful interview if he were to be plopped down in the hot seat for an hour. He was perhaps one of the only other actors there at the Con who just appeared to be pleased to be there; others looked like they were in a constant state of discomfort.

The panel for 300, while not as intimate as the roundtables, sticks out in my mind as one of the most fascinating gems I wasn’t expecting to enjoy. Gerard Butler is simply easy to listen to as he was one of the few actors that came out and was one of the other kind of people that really just rode the rocket ship of a Comic-Con audience for all that it was worth. He’s another lost opportunity that could have been and I am torn as to whether I would have traded in a 1:1 for the chance of seeing the special trailer of footage that they did during the panel. It really does look like an intense film and I cannot get some of the imagery out of my skull, the slo-mo boobie jiggle that was flashed during one moment in the reel could have some adolescent reason why.

Alas, after watching all the copious coverage on other, more up-to-the-moment, sites I was left thinking that there isn’t really any point to physically transcribing any of the panels that I saw up-close; you already know what was said and done and described in ways only the geek obsessed could have brought to life.

I am, though, going to make the MP3’s of the roundtables available.

Where else can you listen to muffled questions and louder than hell responses from rooms that have poor acoustics? Nowhere, that’s where! It’s my bit to try a) at least bring something unique to the Comic-Con coverage you’ve no doubt grown sick of b) keep from getting not-quite-but-sort-of-hate mail like I did last year from people who got bent when I ran a few panel interviews in leiu of my weekly column on trailer talk and c) do you know how long it takes to transcribe audio? It’s a bitch.

I will, much to the delight of many, running at least one 1:1 in its full transcribed glory and that would be the time I spent with Jim Mahfood, soul funk artiste extraordinaire. He’s a guy who has been producing some of the best comic art in the past decade, in my own estimation and I know I’m right, and I didn’t leave his booth until I plopped down some serious coin to make sure I voted with my dollars to support good art. Telling these people who make funny books that their work is fresh, original and means something to you fills a very private void us comic collectors have. When the person in question seems genuinely appreciative of the comment it’s a nice feeling to know that you’re helping to further the cause of creativity.

I went there with a pretty rank attitude because of being shut-out of so many opportunities that others got afforded but since I was able to hang with Mr. Plume who put a lot of this into perspective for me (Thank you, sir…) and Mr. Bell who shared how hated he was with the message board community on this site, but really deserves it because he is such a prick, I had a more satisfying experience than I was expecting. There’s so much more to add but as I roll out some of these MP3’s it will bring a lot more of this into context. P.s. – Bell was so extremely kind and happy to be there, it was his first Con, that you couldn’t help but feel good that this shared experience was with people you would’ve never otherwise known or met had it not been for Al Gore’s Internets.

I’M REED FISH (2006)

Director: Zackary Adler
Cast:
Jay Baruchel, Alexis Bledel, Schuyler Fisk, Victor Rasuk, DJ Qualls, A.J. Cook, Katey Sagal, Chris Parnell
Release: June, 2006 (Newport International Film Festival)
Synopsis: A drama focused on three residents of the same small town: a radio DJ (Baruchel), a convenience store owner (Qualls), and the local beauty (Bledel).

View Trailer:
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Prognosis: Positive. I like this trailer.

It’s sweet in a way.

It seems like it’s from one of those movies that reminds you of how while it’s important to have your wheelhouse stocked with movie knowledge that encompasses the real vital films that are part of common discourse it’s also important to have flicks like these around to remind you that it’s not all about how many people know about the film; sometimes it’s just good to have something to say and to be able and render it on the screen.

I feel cozy, in a way, when I watch this thing if for no other reason than I am quite appreciative of not being visually assaulted to “buy into” this film’s premise. This is a sale made on what’s present in the movie and it’s a rarity to even find a trailer that would risk potential viewers by not trying to latch on my jugular and shake me into submission to see this movie.

To wit, this movie starts off, launches, right into things with Jay Baruchel. For those that may be unfamiliar with the man he was the one that just radiated that “Kick My Ass For No Good Reason”¦Please” vibe in Undeclared, the short-lived series on Fox, but he shines right away, right out of the gate. The trailer just eases us gingerly, like it’s a hot tub and we’re all dudes grabbing our junk as we settle in slowly so as to not scald the twig and berries, and I like it. Reed Fish is a dude in a very small town who has an even smaller radio show. He’s getting married in three weeks, has a funny ass friend who is very unhinged and there’s an element of possible danger to all of this in the beautiful vessel delivered unto us with the name of Schuyler Fisk; she’s hot and she appears to be able and deliver a lot of Van Dammage. The jaunty soundtrack is quite complimentary to all of this, unobtrusive and transparent, and as I look at the running time I see that all of this has been in done in 48 seconds.

Most trailers can’t get this far in as much time.

To boot, and this is neither here, there or anywhere, the trailer progresses without any nod to the players in this thing. Even though we’re only really talking about Katey Sagal, Chris Parnell, Alexis Bledel and DJ Qualls this is a lot of talent wafting in and out of scenes with nary a card proclaiming these people anywhere to be seen. Risky but it works here. It’s like being allowed to walk down Times Square without the noise or interference.

Cue musical interlude by Schuyler Fisk. Of all the times I’m scouring IMDB or some other site to track down the tunes that are played in a trailer I cannot recall a moment when a player in the film itself has been the basis for the action that follows. Sure, there was DUETS but, please, let’s keep this discussion framed around actors and not twits who suddenly develop English accents after marrying emo rockers.

This trailer is succinct, attractive and it pulls you into its tractor beam with its charm. I wish I could recommend this film for viewing but that’s the nature of being an indie: you just don’t know where it’s going to pop up.

THE LAST KISS (2006)

Director: Tony Goldwyn
Cast: Zach Braff, Jacinda Barrett, Casey Affleck, Michael Weston, Eric Christian Olsen, Rachel Bilson, Blythe Danner, Tom Wilkinson, Lauren Lee Smith, Marley Shelton
Release: September 15, 2006
Synopsis: THE LAST KISS is a contemporary comedy-drama about life, love, infidelity, forgiveness, marriage, friendship”¦and coming to grips with turning 30.

View Trailer:
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Prognosis: Negative.

I never quite got what it meant to be a eunuch, literature abounding in the idea of castrated boys and men, until I saw the trailer for this movie.

I feel nothing.

Not a spark, not a tingle, not a flash of something inspiring. I’m not sure why this is as I am a pretty solid Braff fan from his stints on Scrubs and even for the wickedly powerful GARDEN STATE. The latter of which had a wonderful trailer that made my top ten list for 2004 (it ranked number 3) but I don’t know why the initial moments of this trailer is just painful to watch.

I like the idea of a dude coming to terms with his life as he turns 30, the trailer just leading off with this notion as Zach narrates his own reflection, but it doesn’t work. The camera coming in close to Zach as his voice rolls in is just, for lack of a better adjective, hokey. It’s almost like he’s trying out to be a part of Country Time lemonade’s newest campaign as he sits, reflective, in his little suit, slightly disheveled, and is about to start talking about how many days there are left in the season for him to be able and take a slow bike ride in the hills of the country.

I get that this is trying to set up a poignant piece about how people age, the benchmark here being a guy turning 30, but CLERKS II is almost about popping that notion open as well but it isn’t as gloomy as this to say nothing of Jacinda “MTV in the heezie” Barrett who tries again to play that role of love companion as best she can; you’ve got to love the staying power of models turned actresses.

We’re slowly dragged, like forgotten, leashed dogs on a rear bumper, and I’m trying to identify with something about this film only to be disappointed with hearing that Zach’s character feels trapped by his age that there “are no more surprises” left for him in his life and he’s so bummed by the fact he has a hot girlfriend and pretty nice situation. Then, as if on cue by a screenwriter who needed to add some kind of turmoil into the mix to make something interesting, Rachel Bilson’s doe eyes present themselves to Zach’s.

Let the unraveling commence!

“From the writer of MILLION DOLLAR BABY and co-writer of CRASH”

Okay. I know some people thought these were both earth shattering movies that deserved their Academy Awards but, please, let’s be honest here. The former was a good movie that had a plot device thrown at it from out of nowhere and had some real issues of believability to it. The latter was also pretty good but it’s concerns for larger social maladies were ill conceived and didn’t really have anything original to say. That said, yes, the card here proclaiming where this new movie has sprung is not only necessary but I am glad people will be able and know what they’re going to be getting when they go see this movie.

The musical cue here Snow Patrol’s righteous “Chocolate” is played behind all the quick clips that somehow bring a more kinetic quality to the picture and I am utterly thankful. The morose tone and beat of the film up until this moment really is like a more flaccid GARDEN STATE trailer redux. With the uptempo emo pop song you’re finally seeing what this film could have tricked me into thinking.

The last moments are fleeting, packed with more punch than everything that has come before and I am just floored that this movie does a commendable job with finishing what it started but, try as it does, it’s like trying to grab a piece of soap when your hands are covered in oil. It just doesn’t happen.

AMERICA: FREEDOM TO FASCISM (2006)

Director: Aaron Russo
Cast: Sheldon Cohen, Ron Paul, Phil Hart, Peter DeFazio, Katherine Albrecht
Release: July 28, 2006
Synopsis: Determined to find the law that requires American citizens to pay income tax, producer Aaron Russo (“The Rose,” “Trading Places”) set out on a journey to find the evidence. Neither left, nor right-wing this startling examination of government exposes the systematic erosion of civil liberties in America since 1913.

View Trailer:
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Prognosis: As Chuck said from CAN’T BUY ME LOVE, “Chilling.” Don’t know. Just don’t know.

One thing that I realize, the more I grow older, is that I am much more keen on how I am being screwed over by “The Man,” that nebulous glob of government which takes my money and then expects me to go along with every law and public stance it takes. The other thing that’s harder to swallow, though, is knowing that no matter how loud I scream at those who make the laws is that they don’t care. No governmental official has ever been turned on their heels by any petition drive, a phone call to their office or an email into their HQ. Instead of just thinking that my voice doesn’t count, which it almost doesn’t in a state that loves its guns and portly republican representatives, I like to champion the works of people who want to raise awareness and shame those who would otherwise ignore us.

While not a completely destructive film this trailer does look like something worth watching.

“I went on a quest to find out whether there was a law requiring Americans to pay an income tax”¦”

Right out of the chute we go from what seems like a quest to get information on income tax to hippies and average joes getting their collective asses kicked with a constitutional scholar telling us about government using force on its own people in order to further its own political agenda. We even get George W. Bush letting us know that civil liberties are important to him while a title card, right next to him, quotes him in November 2005 saying that, “The constitution is just a goddamn piece of paper.”

Huh?

We get another scholar to tell us that what The Man is selling us in Washington with regard to Americanism is closer to the kind of communism that we were fighting over there in Vietnam and Nazism of Adolf Hitler with images of Americans who have been physically brutalized by its own police forces (again, these could be the dirty hippies who cause all those problems at the G-8 meetings and Winchell’s when those raspberry glazed are all gone). The propaganda that’s being used by this filmmaker is topnotch stuff. They really make a great effort to go right for the jugular with the kind of message they’re trying to create. Although, I have no idea what any of this has to do with income tax.

Next we get a republican, a balanced viewpoint, talking about the national ID card that all of us will have to carry with us by May 2008. I can’t vouch for the film’s claim that this is the case but, again, all good propaganda jumps on an emotional trigger and sticks with it. Kudos to these people.

We get some talking head speaking about how it doesn’t really make a difference who you vote for in an election, someone else talking about how easily it would be to rig a voting machine and, finally, some talk about this dam income tax thing.

No, it seems, there really isn’t a law requiring me to pay it but, like the flick says, dudes with guns will show up and strip me of my freedom if I don’t. To wit, more and more people come on the screen to talk about all these crazy things that are coming down the pike under the guise of big brother wanting to track my every move but it just seems jumbled up in what the initial aims of the trailer were in the first place.

Everyone deserves a voice but this trailer is all sorts of crazy in that it can’t focus on a main thesis and then build everything around that. As it stands, there are a lot of sensationalist ideas and images but nothing really cohesive to tie it all together.

THE SCIENCE OF SLEEP (2006)

Director: Michel Gondry
Cast:
Gael Garcia Bernal, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Alain Chabat
Release: September 15, 2006
Synopsis: A man held captive by the people in his dreams tries to wake himself up and take control of his own imaginings.

View Trailer:
* Large (QuickTime)

Prognosis: Delightfully Positive. Fellini was full of himself.

John Waters makes self-indulgent projects that do nothing to inform the human condition.

Michel Gondry’s high-falutin style marries vision, oddity and emotionality in a none-too-easy package to understand but its rewards when you finally get it are immeasurable. That said, this trailer’s all sorts of fucked up.

“Uno, dos, tres, cuatro”¦”

The moment opens up cleanly with a heavy influence of weird. I think that we’re in the sleeping mind of Bernal and every indication of weirdness makes me believe such is the case. The scene is crisp, well-lit and the pseudo talk show that is going on in his mind tells us what goes into making dreams. The moment is drenched in the kind of accepted bon mot-tery that is entirely indicative of Gondry’s style as a filmmaker.

Gael wakes up.

The scratchy recording that plays beneath the creatively thought out cards in-between the actual video is actually pretty soothing; whereas most of the time I am on edge because I know I’m being sold on a movie Gondry’s trailers for his last two films have disarmed me in a way where I am just satiated to just watch the thing and not think too much about it.

Stephane likes a girl names Stephanie. Now, as the trailer lets us know, Stephane has a hard time distinguishing real life from his dream life. Obviously, this presents the kind of problem that not even Harry T. Anderson could solve in 30 minutes when that old bag held the courtroom hostage with a grenade because she couldn’t tell the difference between television and real life on Night Court. Of course, in that respect, all that was used was a VCR to help Harry get the point across but Michel seems to be utilizing visual cues that rival any surrealist movement in his arsenal of ideas.

The set pieces, though, are visually lush. They kind of vacillate between absurd and beautiful while being completely understandable.

These two Stephs seem to come together but repel one another in a tragic sort of way but you can honestly feel the chemistry between them. While even though Stephane is quite obviously a loon in need of a large quantity of psychotropic medication, as he at one point rams his pretty neighbor’s door with his head, you can sense that he has it enough together to keep himself fed, dressed and productive in society. Yeah, the trailer makes him out to be a little odd but there’s sympathy for him.

As the trailer comes closer to its end, his love interest finding her way into his mental talk show by way of his obsession, I am transfixed by the latest employer to use a unique ditty in setting the tone for the rest of the piece. The song is “Your Heart is an Empty Room” by Death Cab for Cutie and just watching what’s happening here is agonizing to know that things might not end well. I wouldn’t expect less from Gondry.

 

Film Flam Flummox: 8/4/2006

Filed under: Film Flam Flummox — UncaScroogeMcD @ 3:31 am

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August 4, 2006

I Can Feel It Slumming in the Air Tonight 

Miami ViceAlthough it’s quite understandably one of the most definitive, iconic examples of ’80s pop kitsch, MIAMI VICE is an ideal television series to adapt into a feature film. Strip away the dated pastel fashions and Don Johnson’s perpetual beard stubble, and one’s left with executive producer Michael Mann’s pioneering visual- and music-driven style, a slick template for crime drama that has been aped on the tube and big screen alike for the last twenty years. That Mann has emerged as one of the more individualistic mainstream motion picture directors in those two decades made his return visit to the work and lives of police detectives Sonny Crockett and Ricardo Tubbs the rare pre-anointed summer blockbuster with the promise of something more substantial. But it’s the resulting work is an unsatisfying film on either level.

The main gist of the plot here is simple and to the point, not unlike that of an episode of the old show: Crockett (Colin Farrell) and Tubbs (Jamie Foxx) go undercover to infiltrate a drug smuggling operation; along the way Crockett falls for the right-hand woman (Gong Li)–in a number of respects–to the big boss (Luis Tosar). On paper it’s pretty straightforward, but Mann seems intent on making it as talky, action-light, murky, and uninvolving as possible, with reams of monotonously delivered dialogue about shipping transactions. Not helping matters are the sometimes inscrutable accents, most prominently Gong’s. While hers remains one of the most eloquent faces in all of cinema (and one pivotal wordless scene makes one wonder what would could have been had she not declined the Amy Brenneman role in Mann’s Heat ten years ago) unlike in Memoirs of a Geisha, there are no broad, hyperbolic strokes to this character compensate for her difficulty with the language.

That wouldn’t be so much of an issue if she struck any sparks with Farrell, but one of the major deficiencies in the film is chemistry–not just between Farrell and Gong, but Foxx and his love interest Naomie Harris (as a fellow detective), and, most damaging of all, Foxx and Farrell. I can understand Mann wanting to eschew typical film and TV “buddy” cop relations with this Crockett and Tubbs, but the two here don’t even have a convincing base working partnership. The Foxx-Farrell pairing can best be summed up by the first real Crockett-Tubbs scene in the film: on the rooftop of a club, on the phone… having separate conversations. The two share the frame and the on-set air but nothing else. Mann is still one of the best in the business when it comes to gunplay, and the two key action sequences–a tense sequence in a trailer park and a climactic shoot-’em-up–deliver all the loud, jolting fire and raw bloodshed one expects. But with all the characters being paper-thin ciphers thrown into the shots (in every sense), there’s no sense of stakes nor investment. The same perhaps can be said of Mann when it comes to the whole of this Miami Vice–interested in technical details than creating any soul in the piece.

CG Animated Movie of the Week

The Ant BullyEven if it weren’t the second of three CG animated films to be released in as many weeks, THE ANT BULLY would still feel blandly rote. Warner Bros., producer Tom Hanks, and director John A. Davis (who a few years ago helmed a genuinely unique CG feature in Jimmy Neutron: Boy Genius) have gone where many have gone before: all-star “DreamWorks casting,” as I call it (no less than three popular Oscar winners–Julia Roberts, Nicolas Cage, and Meryl Streep–are the A-Listers at the top of the cast list); an ant colony setting (A Bug’s Life and Antz); and–in the ultimate show of laziness or most unfortunate coincidence–as in this past May’s Over the Hedge, villainous exterminator voiced by an actor from Sideways (here, Paul Giamatti; there, Thomas Haden Church). But even with such an air of familiarity, something could have been done to make this adaptation of John Nickle’s book feel more distinctive, and there is an interesting premise to work with: the “ant bully” of the title is actually a much-picked-on kid (voiced by Zach Tyler), who unleashes his anger and frustrations on the ant hill in his front yard; through a magic potion, he is reduced to ant size. The usual lessons about tolerance follow, and they could’ve easily been told with another member of the non-ant insect population and hence all the other expository baggage; and while the animation, particularly in the action set pieces, is indeed well done, it’s nothing revolutionary nor imaginative that stands out from the rest in this CG-feature-a-week marketplace.

Wonderfully Bitter Sunshine

Little Miss SunshineLITTLE MISS SUNSHINE is a family-centered road dramedy that culminates in a beauty pageant for little girls. But while writer Michael Arndt and married director team Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris convey the expected lessons about embracing who you are, foibles and all, it comes in a hilariously caustic package that makes its ultimate uplift genuinely feel-good instead of insufferably saccharine. The major credit goes to the cast, who make the dysfunctional Hoover family real people beyond their quirks: Greg Kinnear as the haughty wannabe self-help guru dad; Toni Collette as the ever-harried mom; Steve Carell as her brother, a gay, suicidal scholar; Alan Arkin as the crude, heroin-snorting grandpa; Paul Dano as the mopey, silent son who hates everyone; and Abigail Breslin as the cute, but far from pageant-perfect, daughter who is a finalist in the titular beauty contest. Their rushed road trip in an old VW bus from Albuquerque to the Redondo Beach event runs into the expected obstacles and complications, but any contrivances are genuinely funny and sold by the cast, who make you care about the oddball family and each member’s individual journey. But before the atmosphere flirts with getting too heavy, Arndt, Dayton, and Faris pull out all the stops with the finale, a spot-on recreation of a child pageant in all of its garish grotesquerie that’s as hilarious as it is disturbingly convincing–which then just makes that dreaded “feel-good” all the more deserved and satisfying.

Little Miss Death Shine

AzumiWith her angelic face and petite frame, Aya Ueto would be a favorite in any hypothetical Little Miss Sunshine contest. As the title character of the live action manga adaptation AZUMI, however, Ueto is anything but sunshine and tiaras; she’s the best in an elite group of young samurai assassins on a mission to assassinate some sadistic warlords in 19th century Japan. Despite admirably doing most of the samurai sword stunts herself, Ueto is a bit too dainty to be completely convincing as a ruthless killing machine, and she doesn’t have the acting chops to compensate for physical presence shortcomings; heavy-handed dialogue continually insisting that she’s “the best” doesn’t help matters, either. But it’s a tribute to the energy of director Ryuhei Kitamura that the big set pieces–including a huge, climactic explosion- and splatter-filled free-for-all samurai battle–still engage and excite in all their excess, and the raw visceral pleasures are enough to carry the film past some clunky melodrama that bloats the film to a two-hour-plus run time.

Old News  

ScoopAfter the dark, cynical trappings of his change-of-pace thriller Match Point, SCOOP finds Woody Allen reverting to his light comedy roots and general predictability. While he does retain two of the fresh elements in his last film, the London setting and star Scarlett Johansson, there isn’t a whole lot else here that will strike one as being fairly new–certainly not Allen in full kvetch as another neurotic nebbish, a hack magician who aids a student reporter (Johansson) on a less-than-professional undercover investigation of a dashing aristocrat (Hugh Jackman, given little to do) who may be a serial killer. As in any Allen comedy, a good one-liner pops up here and there, but the scattered wit and initial novelty of seeing and hearing Johansson put on an Allen avatar geek persona in her first scene can’t carry the film behind some clunky metaphysical devices (Johansson’s character is set on her investigation by the spirit of a recently deceased journalist, played by Ian McShane), the lack of big laughs, and Allen’s tired on-screen schtick.

Sights Unseen

Three teen girls (Ashanti, Sophia Bush, and Arielle Kebbel) decide that school stud JOHN TUCKER MUST DIE after they discover he’s been dating all of them. Jesse Metcalfe plays the title character, and Brittany Snow plays the new girl who helps the trio exact their revenge.

At the Video Store

After seeing him walk through Miami Vice, moviegoers may want to remind themselves that Colin Farrell can indeed act, as seen in ASK THE DUST (Paramount Home Entertainment), in which he plays a writer who gets caught up in a tempestuous affair with a Mexican waitress (Salma Hayek). Farrell is good, but he isn’t as impressive as Hayek, who again shows she candeliver when given weighty material; even more impressive still is the phenomenal production design, which recreated ’30s Los Angeles in South Africa. But despite the actors’ noble individual efforts, the chemistry never quite ignites, and Robert Towne’s labor of love (he worked some 30 years to bring John Fante’s novel to the screen) comes off as more of a meticulous technical exercise than an emotionally engaging one, and it gets increasingly less involving as more formulaic paces (beware the evil Cough of Foreshadowing) start to surface. The DVD includes commentary by Towne and cinematographer Caleb Deschanel as well as a making-of featurette.

If you’ve seen the first two films in the series, then you know exactly what FINAL DESTINATION 3 (New Line Home Entertainment) has in store: a teen (in this go-round, Mary Elizabeth Winstead) has an ominous premonition of a deadly disaster, panics, causes herself and others to escape said disaster; the grim reaper picks off the survivors one-by-one in series of grisly “accidents.” There are some admittedly amusingly gory kills, and original director James Wong (returning after taking the second film off), does serve up some nicely macabre laughs along the way, but on the whole this is a cinematic case of lather, rinse, repeat. The two-disc “Thrill Ride Edition” DVD provides an exhaustive look at the making of the film by way of a commentary track by Wong as well as a feature-length making-documentary, plus a few for-the-fun of it extras: a featurette on the “Dead Teenager Movie” genre; a rather smart animated short about fate and death paranoia called It’s All Around You; and, most notably of all, a “choose their fate” option where one can alter the destinies of the characters while watching the film. This feature, with which the course of the film is altered to varying degrees, is good for equally varying levels of amusement, but it’s just one piece of an impressive DVD package.

Those looking for a fully interactive movie experience may be interested in the first animated direct-to-video feature based on the classic CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE children’s book series, THE ABOMINABLE SNOWMAN (Goldhil Entertainment). Frankie Muniz, William H. Macy, Lacey Chabert, Daryl Sabara, and Felicity Huffman lend their voices to this tale that begins as an expedition to the Himalayas in search of the legendary Yeti but can end in no less than 11 ways. Bonus features include a documentary on the Himalayas and a behind the scenes featurette.

Next Time…

…more reviews, including The Descent. As always, for additional reviews from past and present and and more, check out my home site, TheMovieReport.com .

 

Noctural Admissions: Books , The Man Who Heard Voices

Filed under: Nocturnal Admissions — UncaScroogeMcD @ 3:28 am

 

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Toward the end of the excellent audio commentary track for the recent Criterion disc of his film  Slacker, Richard Linklater pretty much sums up the existential quandary of the film director in a wonderful extemporaneous passage that should be required auditing for every would-be helmer. “[With] money issues and all the other psychic pressures that would come up in such an undertaking, you have to be sort of a head coach,” he says. “You know, you gotta be a taskmaster, you gotta be a charmer, you gotta be a manipulator. You know, I had to tap into what I call ‘necessary bad qualities’ in a personality, you know: ego. You gotta be able to stand up for yourself at the right moments; you’re always subtly being challenged. You know, it was kind of a psychic mine field. I remember I was walking through, and I was going, OK, this is it, this is what a director does, you better buck up, you know, you better – I had to tap into some long lost part of my personality, that maybe being a team captain in sports a decade before,  that guy had to kind of reëmerge in my personality. It had  long been gone. It’s not what you ever thought about when you said you wanted to make films but it’s necessary, and if you can’t do that, if you can’t have those meetings and do that necessary crap, and not feel like your denying who you are, you know, then you really shouldn’t be doing it. You won’t be ** able to do it.”

 

Book coverI thought of Linklater’s remarks throughout my reading of Michael Bamberger’s new book,  The Man Who Heard Voices: Or, How M. Night Shyamalan Risked His Career on a Fairy Tale (Gotham Books, 288 pages, $27.50, ISBN 1592402135). Linklater is a director I love and Shyamalan is one I have mixed feelings about, and the differences between them couldn’t be more caverous.

I read Bamberger’s book sympathetically, but it is easy to interpret the work as an embarrassingly lengthy press release, and it has already received devastating reviews, such as Janet Maslin’s in the  New York Times, and  Christopher Goodwin in the  Times of London, on the basis of its hagiographic genuflections to Shyamalan’s cinematic genius (though “business savvy” would be a better label). Bamberger is a sports writer who has moved placidly in the presence of superstars such like Jim Courier, Michael Jordan, and Tiger Woods, yet it is Shyamalan who has reduced him to a blithering fan, finding exquisite nuance in the most mundane aspects of the filmmaking process.

Part of the problem is that, as he admits, Bamberger knows nothing about movies. He never watches a film more than once, has never heard of Aint it Cool News, and couldn’t tell you if Ingmar Bergman is a chick or a guy. Instead he knows sports, and the ins and outs of conservative straight arrow publishing in the form of  Sports Illustrated. In short he is a square. But it takes a square to extoll one, and the clearest message in the book is that Shyamalan is a pampered, sheltered, privilged, unlettered, and inexperienced square.

Night

 

I’m not sure where I fall on the issue of Bamberger’s ignorance of the movie biz. Things highly familiar and routine to me strike him as fascinating, and though it is sometimes nicely “Martian” to have these familar things seen though neophyte eyes, one also despairs that someone so clueless was given such supreme access to Shyamalan and everyone in his creative circle. Bamberger pursued Shyamalan not because he was a movie buff but because he was developed some kind of man crush on him at a party, and seems to have an interest in minority success in mainstream areas of activity such as sports. Bamberger, who also lives in Pennsylvania like Shyamalan and his extended family, met the director at an exclusive dinner party and found himself so intrigued he pitched to Shyamalan the idea of spending a year as his Boswellian amanuensis. Shyamalan, for his part, is a tireless self-promoter, or at least a protector of his talent, and Bamberger seems to have caught him at a vulnerable moment, when he wanted to “prove” something to his former studio, Disney, as he embarked on a new relationship with Warner. But I can think also think of a heck of a lot of American directors who would benefit from this same kind of scrutiny and access, scrutiny that would benefit the readerL Tarantino, Scorsese, Stone, Coens, an Anderson.

Heep

 

The book begins just as Shyamalan is finishing up his latest script,  The Lady in the Water. At least it sounds like MNS really writes his screenplays, unlike a lot of Hollywood frauds, and he had great difficulty composing it (the script is supposedly based on a fairy tale he made up for his kids). Bamberger follows the scripts, in the hands of MNS’s then assistant Paula, as it goes across the country to three execs at Disney, none of whom grant it the kind of courtesy the spoiled rich kid is used to. At the end of a tense dinner with the trio back in Philly, Shyalaman more or less announces that he is leaving Disney. Its not clear  how he can do this; Bamberger doesn’t go into detail about the kind of contractual relationship he had with Disney (at the end of the book, Bamberger invites readers to email him questions, so I did, and Bamberger replied that after Shyamalan’s disastrous experience with Harvey Weinstein, MNS maintained a more distanced relationship with Disney, which I imagine is akin to a month-to-month lease).

Cove

 

Like a John McPhee, Bamberger attempts to delve into the minds of both parties, but the inside of Night’s mind is fully and warmly portrayed and the minds of the execs are cold and unforthcoming (one of them was fired from Disney the weekend that the movie opened and the book came out). Though Shyamalan is ushered into the Warner world, the image of the three executives hover in his head as a spur and a curse, in a rather crowded place what with all those voices. I leave you to consult DSM-IV about what a head of voices means. Bamberger watches the set built, the film cast, what appears to be the whole shoot, and various screenings and premieres.  Throughout, he shows abject admiration for Shyamalan and for a few others, such as lead Paul Giamatti, who, it turns out, he knew slightly already. Rarely does he show Shyamalan throw a fit. But he does, occasionally, generally in the direction of the DP, Christopher Doyle, who does not, to put it mildly, conduct himself in a manner consonant with the standards of this ancient gentlemen’s club (the book has been talked about as a Shyamalan career killer, but if anyone is at risk, it is Doyle, at least in the American market). Doyle’s idea of complimenting an actress during costume sizing is to say, “You look fuckable.”

Cove apartments

 

But for all the attention to the mechanics of the movie making process there are a few things missing. There isn’t a lot about Shyamalan and money, there isn’t much about  how he writes or why, and there isn’t anything about the vanity or consequences of him casting himself in his own movies. It’s reporting, not criticism, but I would also have liked something about Shyamalan’s artistic intentions.

 

PosterThe consistent theme in MNS’s movies, though, is not the trick or surprise ending, but instead, the interesting thematic turn of someone thinking he is saving someone when in fact it is really he who is being saved. Dr. Malcolm Crowe (Bruce Willis) in  The Sixth Sense thinks he is helping the little boy, Cole Sear (Haley Joel Osment), but it is really the kid who is rescuing Crowe from the delusion that he is still alive, while in  Unbreakable,  David Dunn isn’t being revealed as as superhero, it is Elijah Price being exposed as a supervillain. In  Lady in the Water, Cleveland Heep isn’t saving Story, she is rescuing Heep; depending on how clearly this narrative twist is treated defines how successful Shyamalan’s movie is going to be, on an aesthetic level.

 Lady is further complicated by is subtheme  of  telling stories, though. Heep can’t just learn more about the mysterious ethereal woman who emerged from the apartment swimming pool, he has to enjoin all manner of complex re-tellers to tell him. Thus, he can’t get the lexicon of the water people directly from the old Korean woman, it has to be translated to him by her daughter. Shyamalan thinks he is honoring storytelling, but he is really putting impediments in its way. In a related subplot, the critic (Bob Balaban) must die because he  doesn‘t convey stories, he merely interprets and judges them.

Another theme in his films is water. Shyamalan is fixated on it. Water is (illogically, if you think about it for five seconds) Dunn’s Kryptonite in Unbreakable, as well as the aliens’ weakness in  Signs. Here it is the rejuvenating amniotic fluid for Story and her people.

Bmaberger doesn’t go into any of this, but one shouldn’t expect him to, I guess.  Instead, he is the interested fly on the wall when Shyamalan has numerous encounters with executives, actors, production people, and intimates. To me the most fascinating segment is when Shyamalan confronts an unnamed  African-American NYU film student about a highly negative review he wrote anonymously for Ain’t It Cool News (since pulled down) after piggy backing into a highly exclusive early screening for intimates. Night and his team figured out who the poisoned penner was and called him out. Night met him him at a public place in Manhattan and proceeded to break through the kid’s arrogance and reduce him to tears, a blubbering slave intent on following Night’s wishes evermore.

What is interesting about this story is less the intervention of a filmmaker into the very lowest rungs of critical reception of his work, but the image of him after the conversation, of him walking through the streets of New York, a little figure with an loose oversized knapsack hopping on his back. Suddenly the specter of Haley Macaulay Culkin in  Home Alone came into my head, and I realized that Shyamalan remains an adolescent. His movie tales are adolescent, his view on life is adolescent and his memories of the past are fixated on the small triumphs of the adolescent (as in an incomprehensible anecdote told first early in the book in which a teenage Night goes to a car with a girl in defiance of an athlete; I couldn’t really follow that anecdote but it apparently looms large in Night’s view of himself). MNS ended up marrying a beautiful woman, a sort of supermodel with brains, has two kids, is a millionaire with a large retinue of helpers, and his movies have made his corporate masters over a billion dollars. But he is still a disappointment to his parents, in Bamberger’s portrayal, and their lack of approval continues to infantalize him, while he still dwells (as do we all) on high school slights.  Night is a square. He uses outdated slang (dig, turn me off). Night’s favorite films are listed as films such as The Wizard of Oz, Raiders of the Lost Ark, ET: not a Samuel Fuller or a Bela Tarr flick in the bunch, just straight down the line corporate blockbusters. He is only just now “getting into” (as Night might say) Bob Dylan, and his identification with Dylan, as a troubled artist facing misunderstanding, is utterly square – and a few decades late.

Mermaid

 

I regret that all this sounds negative, because I had a fine time reading the book (which is really more like a long magazine article – without pictures). It made me almost sympathize with Shyamalan, it provided some insight into the movie making process, and I got interesting glimpses into Giamatti and Doyle.  The person I identified with most was, oddly,  Bryce Dallas Howard, who confesses to nervousness and emotional and intellectual withholding  and nervousness when she is in the spotlight on the set and when she is in Night’s presence, which is exactly how I would be. Bamberger writes easefully, his enthusiasm is appreciated, and he happened upon a showbiz story with real drama in it (although the book came out before the story was over). It’s a quick read but well worth the time.

 

Comics in Context #140: San Diego 2006 – Stamp of Approval

Filed under: Comics in Context — admin @ 3:24 am

 

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Comic-Con International, more familiarly known as the San Diego Comic Con, is the Mecca of American comics aficionados. Every North American comics enthusiast should make the pilgrimage at least once. The 2006 Comic-Con International is the seventeenth San Diego Con that I’ve attended in the last twenty-five years; the Con marked its thirty-seventh anniversary this year.

But then there are some people who resist the San Diego Con’s siren call, such as my fellow Quick Stop columnist Fred Hembeck, who has never been there once. How can this be? Have you ever had the feeling, when you finally visit a distant place that you’ve long read about, or seen on television or in the movies, say, like Paris or the Grand Canyon, that by gosh, this place really does exist. Perhaps, deep down inside, Fred doesn’t quite believe that something as reputedly fantastic as the San Diego Con (or, I suppose, southern California) actually could be real.

For the benefit of Mr. Hembeck, and of all of you who couldn’t get there this year, for this and the next several weeks I will be reporting in detail on my experiences at the San Diego Con, as I did last year and in 2003.

At any given point while the Con is open, there are so many panels or other events taking place, that no two attendees, unless they travel together in lockstep, could possibly have the same experience there. I attended several high profile panels and events, some of which had an audience comprising thousands of people, as well as panels which attracted only several dozen attendees.

Last year Mr. Hembeck’s endurance seemed somewhat strained when my Con reports ran into their fifth and sixth week. I doubt that this year my reports will take up quite so many pages, inasmuch as I’ve never worked at a San Diego Con as much as I did at this one. All of my journeys to the San Diego Con have been business trips, but I spent most of my time attending panels, and, in the early years, company and convention parties. In 2003 my reason for going to San Diego was the showing of Constantine Valhouli’s documentary Sex, Lies and Superheroes, which I co-wrote and executive produced, at the San Diego Con’s Film Festival. Last year I appeared on a panel at the Comic Arts Conference, an academic conference held during the Con, to promote The Supervillain Book, which I and others had been writing. My expenses were picked up by the Big Apple Conventions, which sent me to scout for possible guests. This year half my expenses, including my hotel accommodations and plane flight, were being picked up by DK Publishing, for whom I wrote The Ultimate Guide to the X-Men, now in its third, expanded edition, and collaborated on the forthcoming Marvel Encyclopedia, which comes out in October. I was scheduled to appear on DK’s panel and to do two signings at their booth. I also appeared on another Comic Arts Conference panel on behalf of The Supervillain Book and ended up doing a signing for it. The book officially comes out this fall, but we had advance copies to sell at the Con. I was also scheduled for a business meeting with The Supervillain Book‘s editor, Gina Misiroglu, to discuss ideas for possible follow-up books. Moreover, while I was planning to write up the panels I attended for this column, which I do for free, I was hoping to do some reporting for Publishers Weekly, for which I would get paid.

Perhaps one of the factors that discourages Fred from going to the Con is the sheer difficulty involved. It has become a very expensive proposition in recent years, with hotels charging hundreds of dollars per night. And that’s if you can find a hotel room. Last year 100,000 people attended Comic-Con; according to early estimates, there were 125,000 people there this year. Rooms at the principal hotels get snapped up months in advance, and plane seats vanish quickly too. Much as I always enjoy the Con, I’ve decided that nowadays I should only go if I have a specific project to promote (as with Constantine’s movie) and if someone will pick up a major part of my expenses, as DK did this year.

But, inevitably, with so much going on at the Con, when I’m doing a signing or appearing on a panel myself, I can’t attend another panel that’s going on simultaneously that I would dearly love to see. So my coverage of the Con this year shouldn’t be as long as it has been in the past, simply because I wasn’t able to attend as many panels.

I hope that my detailed coverage of what I did see at the Con will convey to those of you who didn’t attend some sense of what it was like to be there, and perhaps even excite some of you into making the pilgrimage yourselves.

Concerned as I am about testing Mr. Hembeck’s patience with my long reports, this year I am borrowing a device from one of our favorite television series to enliven my coverage: the digital clock from 24. I will keep you informed as to exactly when these events started and stopped, and whenever you see the time listed, you and Fred can chant along with 24‘s ominous clock music: KA-CHUNK! KA-CHUNK! KA-CHUNK!

Fred may have further good reason to shy away from trips to San Diego. Based on past experiences, I have formulated a rule that no major trip can take place without something going wrong. For example, years ago when I took a trip to Rome, despite the fact that I was on a nonstop flight from New York City to Rome, the airline still succeeded in losing my luggage. I told the tour guide what happened, and she breezily informed me that I’d never see it again. The next day, on returning from sightseeing, my bag was waiting for me in my room. So a seeming miracle occurred, befitting the vacation in which I visited the Vatican, as well as confirmation of my rule about travel.

Last year, as regular readers of this column may recall, on my trip out to San Diego I had to change planes in Dallas, but the first plane (of course) arrived late, and I was stuck in the Dallas/Fort Worth Airport for five hours, reading The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe while awaiting the next plane, and thereby missing all the Thursday panels I wanted to see. But far more annoying were my dealings with Kinko’s in trying to get the business cards my redoubtable editor Ken Plume had advised me I should have.

For this year’s San Diego trip my rule went into overdrive. Fred, prepare to have all your fears about long-distance travel confirmed.

And Kinko’s was only a minor factor this time around. My old business cards, you see, listed this column’s old web address, over at IGN. But now I’ve moved to Quick Stop, rendering the old cards obsolete. Determined to avoid Kinko’s, I made the long walk to the neighborhood Staples, where an attractive young woman at the printing counter, who told me that it would take seven to fourteen days to print the cards. (Considering that she seemed to have nothing to do, why couldn’t she print them now?) The trip was less than a week away, so I was forced to try Kinko’s again. This time on their first version of my new cards, Kinko’s managed to spell my name “Petre.” (I take it from what I heard other people in line say, that I am far from the only person who has problems with Kinko’s.)

I know better than to trust Kinko’s, but it is really disturbing when you think you can count on a trusted friend on a major matter, only to have the rug pulled out from under you. In June I made contact with a good friend with whom I’d lost contact the previous fall. But it was if no time had passed as we animatedly talked on the telephone. Since she had done a great job in making my travel arrangements for last year’s Comic-Con, I asked her if she’d do it again this year, and I would send her a check. She agreed, and on our second phone conversation, a week later, she was busily reading to me a list of inexpensive plane fares and assuring me that she could find something even cheaper. I asked her to call me back in a few days when she completed her search.

Then she stopped answering her phone and e-mails. For weeks. In imitation of my hero, Stephen Colbert, I have put her on my “On Notice” list.

By now it was early July, and, well aware of the difficulties in booking planes and rooms for the San Diego Con, I was getting worried, and starting sending out e-mail calls for assistance. And miracles occurred again. Only moments after I mentioned my dilemma in an e-mail to her, the Beat, that living nexus of all comic industry realities, phoned me to offer a solution. She put me in touch with her friend Frank, who was in contact with a young nanny named Daniela, who was trying to sell two U. S. Airways/American West vouchers she had gotten after being bumped from a flight. Frank was also heading to the San Diego Con. But U. S. Airways informed Daniela that in order to transfer her vouchers to us, all of us would have to come down to the airport. Since I’m a freelancer, my schedule is malleable, but Frank’s and Daniela’s were not, so all of us headed down to Kennedy Airport (a thirty dollar cab ride for me) one evening. I arrived first, shortly after 8 PM, and discovered something that Dani the Nanny had not been told: the U. S. Airways ticket counter was already closed for the night! So we all had to get up at the crack of dawn the next morning to head down to Kennedy Airport yet again so Frank could get into Manhattan by 9 AM. Thus time everything went smoothly: I would fly out on Wednesday, the day before the Con’s official start, arriving around 10:30 PM, and would fly back the following Monday night. Since I finds it difficult to sleep on planes, I’m not fond of redeye flights, but this would give me a day in San Diego after the Con. It seems pointless to me to fly all the way out to San Diego, with its brilliant sunshine, gorgeous sights, and nearly perfect weather, and then spend the whole time inside the Convention Center. I feel my San Diego trips are not complete until I spend at least an afternoon out of doors.

More miracles followed. Bess Braswell of DK e-mailed me that they had already booked a room for me at the Doubletree Club (without telling me). Peter Coogan, one of the chairmen of the Comic Arts Conference, alerted me that another CAC attendee, Patrick Jagoda, was looking for a fourth person with whom to split a room (that cost over $300 a night total!), at the Coronado Island Marriott Resort. So now I had a choice of places to stay, and spent days mulling over which offer to accept. There was a water taxi that crossed the bay between the Coronado Island Marriott and the San Diego Marriott, which stands directly beside the San Diego Convention Center. I liked the idea of starting each day by riding a ferry across the bay, but the water taxi didn’t run at night, so I’d have to take a more expensive cab (a land taxi?) back each night. According to its website, the Doubletree Club was only “minutes” from a trolley that ran directly to the Convention Center. I was leaning towards the Doubletree, until I phoned the hotel, and discovered that the trolley was a five minute DRIVE from the hotel, across a highway! And even with DK picking up half the tab, the Doubletree would still cost me about twice as much as the Coronado Island Marriott. So I accepted Patrick’s offer. (Of course anyplace within easy walking distance of the Convention Center would have been booked solid months ago.)

And there were other problems. Publishers Weekly wanted me to bring a laptop computer to the Con so I could write articles out there and e-mail them to my editors Sunday night, in time for the Tuesday edition of their online newsletter Comics Week. But I discovered that the decade-old laptop was incompatible with recent versions of AOL. I figured out that I could still transfer the articles to the Beat’s laptop via Zip drives; Peter Coogan even offered to give me one, and the Beat approved of the solution. It meant lugging another shoulder bag, with the laptop, on the trip, but, hey, it’d be worth it if I get paid for the PW reports.

Then on the day before the trip, my watch stopped. I had the foresight to have a backup. At this point Fred Hembeck is reading this and vowing he will never venture any further from home than Disney World. And I haven’t even mentioned airport security yet. Without waiting to be asked, I put my bags, the laptop, jacket and shoes through the X-ray machine, though I thought the security people were a wee impatient in expecting people to redress hurriedly. (I understand that this summer security is particularly concerned about the possible danger of serpents on an aircraft.)

What else could go wrong? Actually, not much on the trip out. First I took a flight from New York City to Philadelphia (only thirty minutes; hardly seems worth going by plane!), and then boarded the America West flight for San Diego itself.

I spent part of the journey reading the new novel from Tor, Dark Shadows: The Salem Branch, by Lara Parker, who played Angelique on the original Dark Shadows television series. The book is quite good, and I will be discussing it in a future “Comics in Context.”

What made the flight even more enjoyable was the other passenger in my row. Years ago I found myself seated next to graphic novelist Kyle Baker on a flight (to Chicago for its con, I think), and he observed to me, “Did you ever notice that you never get seated next to an attractive woman on a flight?” (Certainly not that one, since I was sitting next to Kyle.) This year’s flight to San Diego proved the Baker Hypothesis to be wrong. Separated from me by a single empty seat was an attractive young German woman named Annette, who had flown all the way from Munich, changing planes in Philadelphia on her long trek to visit friends in San Diego. Between one or two hours into the flight, she did something I don’t expect from fellow airline passengers: she smiled and started a conversation with me, and apart from an understandable break she took to take a nap, we talked animatedly for the rest of the flight. I even sought to reassure her when she was frightened by some particularly nasty turbulence that shook the plane for five to ten minutes. She was intelligent, vivacious, nearly perfect in speaking English, and quite pretty. This was her first trip to California, and I advised her on various sights she should see not only in San Diego, but in Los Angeles and San Francisco. She mentioned that her friends would have to work during the week, so I offered to show her around San Diego on Monday before my return flight. She seemed open to the offer. Did she turn up on Monday? That’s right: this year’s San Diego report will have an element of suspense. (Fred is already on the edge of his seat!)

So, my many thanks to Heidi, Frank, Dani, Peter, Patrick, Bess, Rachel, Greg, and Zon for their part in making my expedition to this year’s Comic-Con possible. And to Annette for making the flight out so pleasant.

Thanks to various delays on the flights, I arrived in San Diego not around 10:30 PM but closer to midnight; in fact, the airport was about to shut down for the night. Which means it was now–
COMIC-CON DAY ONE

The following events take place Thursday between 12:00 AM and 11:30 AM. (KA-CHUNK! KA-CHUNK! KA-CHUNK!)

As I explained to Annette, landing in San Diego after dark is always disappointing: you can’t see the palm trees, or the skyline, or the brilliant blue sky. Airports all look alike, and outside is darkness. I found a shuttle, which is less expensive than a taxi, and rode across a bridge over the bay to Coronado Island, and the Coronado Island Marriott Resort. Luckily, my three new roommates, Patrick, Greg, and Zon, young academics, were all still up. Patrick and Greg had claimed the two real beds, and I got a rollaway bed, which proved comfortable enough. (Zon got the floor. Being the eldest of the group, I decided not to feel guilty about getting a bed. Seniority can be a good thing.)

Through e-mail Patrick and I had agreed that I would pay him in cash for my share of the room, and then he would pay the hotel. So now I offered to give him the money, but he’d changed his mind. He arranged it so that there were four separate accounts, and each of us would pay the hotel directly for his share. This made sense at the time. But we had overthought the situation, and had laid the seeds of trouble to come. (Still more suspense.)

DAY ONE 8:00 AM
I may have been the oldest of the four CAC roommates, but I was consistently the first one to wake up, managing to perform my morning ablutions before the others could compete for bathroom time.

9:30 AM
As I had hoped, the morning ferry voyages justified my choice of the Coronado Island Marriott. My friend Meloney Crawford Chadwick had advised me that Hotel Circle, the location of the Doubletree Club, was the middle of nowhere. But here, we emerged into the hazy sunlight, crossed the swimming pool area (which seemed surprisingly bare and unmemorable in daylight), and strode out onto a pier extending into the bay. There you could look back at the island, or across the sparkling waters to the San Diego coastline, with the long bridge to Coronado Island to the right. Directly across from us was the San Diego Convention Center, with its sail-like structure, as if the building were a larger version of the many boats docked at the marina outside the Center. To its left were the two curved towers of the San Diego Marriott, and far to the Center’s right were enormous battleships at San Diego’s famed naval base.

The ferry is tiny; twenty passengers would be a crowd, and the open window areas make one feel even closer to the surrounding waters. The trip between the two Marriotts lasts no more than ten minutes, and this morning the waters were soothingly calm. It is a marvelous way to begin the morning.

9:45 AM
Contrary to earlier rumors, the line at Professional Registration was short and moved quickly. Once I got to one of the booths, my wait slowed down considerably. DK, CAC and PW had each registered me for 2006, and I know from 2003 that thanks to my many visits to the Con, my name is in their computers. But the two guys on duty at this booth were unable to find my name in their system. This, one of them decided, was my fault. The older-looking, bearded one began lecturing me that I should never let anyone register for me, and that I should always do it myself. Then a young woman came by, pressed a key on the younger guy’s computer, thereby immediately bringing up my name, smiled, and walked off.

9:50 AM
With only ten muinutes to go to the official start of the Con, I saw numerous people entering the doors to the main floor. Wearing my professional’s badge, I tried to go in, too, but was shooed away by one of the red-shirted minions of the unfortunately named “Elite” security force that patrolled the Con. He smugly told me to wait with everyone else. Puzzled that pro badges seemed effectively meaningless, I made my way upstairs, to the Sails Pavilion, where I saw hordes of fans lined up in zig-zag formation, waiting to be allowed onto the main convention floor. Unwilling to be regimented, I milled about and finally make my way into Room 5AB, where a surprisingly large crowd, leaving few empty seats, and an astonishing number of video cameramen (including the ubiquitous Mike Catron, king of comics convention video), were awaiting the first panel of the Convention.

10:30 AM-11:30 AM
This event was billed as “DC Comics Legacy: U. S. Postal Service First Day Stamp Issue.” As it would be explained to us, the U. S. Postal Service holds a ceremony marking the issuing of each new set of commemorative stamps. Today the Postal Service was officially releasing its new set of twenty stamps featuring ten DC Comics super heroes, including Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, the Flash, Green Lantern, Hawkman, Supergirl, Green Arrow, Aquaman, and Plastic Man. (How come Plastic Man, who originated at Quality Comics, not DC, made it and the more famous Captain Marvel, who originated at Fawcett, didn’t? If not for the references to him in HBO’s Entourage, would Aquaman have made this list? Didn’t Entourage pick him as a joke because he is such a minor character?) Even better, each image is taken from classic comic book artwork. Each character is represented by a stamp bearing a close-up of his likeness, and by a vintage cover. For example, a Green Lantern stamp bears an image of Hal Jordan, the Silver Age Green Lantern, from a cover by Neal Adams. The stamps would only be available that day in San Diego: in fact, the Postal Service had set up a special outlet right at the Convention Center. The stamps went on sale the next day around the country, and the Museum of Comic and Cartoon Art (MoCCA) hosted another ceremony for the stamps the following week in New York City.

The first speaker was Dave Failor, the Executive Director of Stamp Services for the U. S. Postal Service. He told us that he ordinarily “works inside the Beltway” but that “my job today is to come to Comic-Con.”

Failor said that there had been a “wonderful debate in the office” over how popular the stamps would be. He said they knew the stamps would be popular with comics collectors, and then asked how many people in the audience were comics collectors. Well, duh, this is the San Diego Comic Con: virtually everyone raised his hand. But then he asked how many in the audience were stamp collectors, and I was surprised at the large number of raised hands.

Explaining First Day Issue ceremonies to those of us who were attending one for the first time (like me), Failor said that the Postal Service “always selects one city” where the stamps would be exclusively available to be postmarked that first day of release. He said San Diego was “one of my favorite cities” and “a great fun city to come to,” a sentiment with which I certainly agree.

Then he introduced Jerry Sanders, the Mayor of San Diego. I never expected the city’s mayor to show up. Years ago, my friend Meloney went to one of Europe’s largest comics conventions, the Angouleme Festival in France, where she attended a dinner where the Mayor of Angouleme was present. When she told me about this years ago, I took it as a sign of how much more respect that comics receive as an artform in Europe.

And now, in 2006, the Mayor of San Diego appeared at the opening event of the San Diego Comic Con. This probably has much more to do with the economic impact on the city’s restaurants, hotels, and more from over a hundred thousand people attending the Con than with official recognition of the artistic merit of comics. Still, the Mayor’s appearance was an impressive gesture.

The Mayor began by saying that he “grew up on DC and Marvel comics.” (I suppose once upon a time that if a politician said that, he would be seen as having been a particularly dumb child.) He told us that he gave “a suitcase full of comics” to his nephew three years ago, whereupon the audience collectively went “awwww.” (They sounded sad, as if the mayor had enacted that archetypal moment in the lives of older fans, in which someone, usually a parent, gives away old comics, oblivious to their worth.) The Mayor called San Diego “America’s finest city,” as you would expect him to say, but went on to declare that “We are really happy to have Comic-Con here.” He also stated that “I can’t think of a more fitting subject for a postage stamp series” than super heroes. (Um, how about American Presidents?)

The Mayor observed that Paul Levitz, DC’s president and publisher, who was seated onstage, started his comics career thirty-three years ago. The Mayor said that he himself had started out in the police thirty-three years ago, and “we just went in different directions,” causing Levitz to break into a big grin.

“Please enjoy our city,” the Mayor concluded. “We welcome you with open arms.”

Next up was David Glanzer, the Director of Public Relations and Marketing for Comic-Con International, who said that the U. S. Postal Service and DC Comics had chosen Comic-Con as the site of this event. Glanzer said this “proves comic art has reached a new era of appreciation.”

Then Paul Levitz and many people connected with the U. S. Postal Service who were present were introduced from the stage.

The next major speaker was the U. S. Postal Service’s Judicial Officer William Campbell. We were informed in his introduction that “Bill was a comic collector as a child,” and his speech made it clear that yes, indeed, he is One of Us. Campbell began by welcoming the “comic collectors” in the audience and urging us to “give yourself a big hand.”

Commendably, Campbell then said that at this event “first we celebrate. . . fantastic artists” and “creative storytellers” who brought about a “new kind of heroes” in “the greatest comics industry in the world.”

Next, Campbell said, we “celebrate the heroes themselves,” whom he described as “great characters and role models,” who also “had weaknesses and doubts.” (I suppose that actually applies more to Marvel’s classic heroes than DC’s, but DC has given its flagship heroes more complex personalities since Marvel’s Silver Age revolution.)

Finally, Campbell perceptively stated that today “we celebrate a moment of time most of us shared. . .when characters in comic books were our friends,” when “their battles were our battles,” and “their values” shaped “our ideas of right and wrong.”

Campbell pointed out that these were the “first stamps ever to commemorate superheroes.” Then a curtain at the back of the stage was dropped, revealing large reproductions of the entire set of DC superhero stamps. Paul Levitz, the mayor, and various Postal Service bigwigs posed with the giant stamps for the photographers.

Then it came time for Paul Levitz to make his speech. (Earlier Campbell had referred to him as “President Levitz”: I’d never heard him called that before, but it fits.) Whereas the Mayor and the Postal Service officials wore suits, Levitz was more casually dressed, with neither jacket nor tie. This initially struck me as unusual, but I would learn the wisdom of Mr. Levitz’s fashion choice later in the week, as you shall see.

Levitz began by saying that “The first day of the San Diego Comic Con is generally the best day in the comics business” because “we” get “to see our fans, “to touch them,” and to get “recharged.”

Levitz also said this was a “terrific day to honor” both the “characters” and their “creators,” whereupon he proceeded to introduce, in alphabetical order, a number of the people whose creations and artwork were represented on the stamps, and who were seated in the audience. The roll call included Neal Adams, who stood, turned, and beamed at the enthusiastically applauding audience; Silver Age inker Joe Giella; Flash and Batman artist Carmine Infantino; the blonde Elizabeth Kane, representing her late husband, Batman co-creator Bob Kane; the dark-haired Lisa Kirby, daughter of Jack; comics artist Adam Kubert, representing his father, Silver Age Hawkman artist Joe Kubert; latter-day Batman and Superman artist Jim Lee; Edgar May, a lawyer representing the family of Wonder Woman co-creator William Moulton Marston; Golden and Silver Age Batman artist Sheldon Moldoff; George Perez, looking very happy; Jack Kirby’s frequent inker Mike Royer, who wore a big Western hat which he tipped to the crowd; and frequent Jim Lee inker Scott Williams. Though he was not mentioned from the stage, I also noticed the Golden Age Batman artist Jerry Robinson in attendance. (But not till I started writing this week’s column did I realize that no one from the family of Jerry Siegel, Superman’s co-creator, seemed to be there.)

Levitz pointed out that today was “an important moment” for the early comics “artists who couldn’t sign their work” and who “received no recognition” at the time. He stated that many early comics artists were the children of “immigrants who made their art speak for their [new] country.”

Levitz also spoke of spending “hours of discussdion” to select the “right set of stamps and images,” and joked that “It beats the hell out of real work!”

The First Issue Day ceremony was still not finished, but I left early so as to catch the last part of the first Comic Arts conference panel of the Con. It was a little after 11 AM, but to find out what I saw next, you’ll have to wait for next week’s installment.

ADVERTISEMENTS FOR MYSELF

I’m scheduled to do one lecture per month in my series “1986: The Year That Changed Comics,” at New York City’s Museum of Comic and Cartoon Art (MoCCA). But as it turns out, there is only a week between my last lecture, on July 31 about Frank Miller and Bill Sienkiewicz’s Elektra: Assassin, and the next one, on Monday, August 7.

This will indeed be a special event. I will be giving a talk about the 1986 Squadron Supreme limited series, written by the late Mark Gruenwald. But this is only part of an evening designed as a tribute to Mark, who passed away ten years ago this month. Mark’s widow Catherine will be there, bringing with her something she only recently discovered: a eulogy that Mark had written for himself! Mark’s daughter Sara will also attend, as well as various colleagues of Mark’s from the world of comics, and a number of the current writers for Mark’s creation, The Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe. It starts at 6:30 PM and it’s free! I’m hoping to write about it in a future column, but if you’re in the New York area, please come experience the event yourself.

-Copyright 2006 Peter Sanderson

August 3, 2006

Hey, Stephen Colbert!

Filed under: Articles,Widge Goes Off — widge @ 3:06 am

colbert.jpgCongratulations on extending your sphere of influence (read: stranglehold over all wikiality) to this strange realm of tubing we call the Internet.  You are no doubt familiar with the deadliness that too much popularity all at once can bring a website.

In the beginning, this was called being “Slashdotted,” as Slashdot would post a link to a site and the ensuing storm of users would bring said site to its knees.

More recently, Digg has supplanted Slashdot and “The Digg Effect” is a similar devastating blow to a site’s midsection.

Now that you have crippled Wikipedia with your own version of this tidal wave, I would like to offer this to you, your very own term to describe the extent to which your suggestive powers can destroy:

“COLBERIED” –

The act of a website being taken offline by the sheer onslaught of Stephen Colbert’s followers, not to mention the force of his will.

Please take this term with our best wishes–but do so quickly.  You of all people should appreciate the power of language.  This word must not fall into the hands of the Bears.

Sincerely,
Widgett Walls
Quick Stop Entertainment

 

 

 

Party Favors: TODAY SHOW special

Filed under: Joe Corey's Party Favors — UncaScroogeMcD @ 2:55 am

 

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NEW YORK CITY – Did I really just do an interview with the Today Show?

By the time this posts, America will have been inflicted with the sight of me eating Cap’n Crunch with my wife. Leave it to network news to rip the facade off my life and expose the ugly truth – I don’t live in my parents’ basement. I live in my wife’s house. And I make her lunch. And I kiss her goodbye as she heads off to work. And then I get on the internet and make the love for you.

Some may call me a lazy dog. Others a damn, lazy dog. Hopefully Evan Seinfeld won’t be saying that since I’ve seen him on TV counting out Tera Patrick’s strippin’ cash. And Kevin Federline better not diss me in a rap song.

I’m not just watching Oprah and eating bon bons. I’m working on my column to make it the greatest document of pop trash. And hey, it got me on the Today Show.

Because of the last minute nature of the piece, reporter Don Mott couldn’t visit the Casa De Corey. He performed the interview over a cellphone. It was like a modified Charlie’s Angels episode with just Bosley in the office. I’m living with the intense fear of how all my words are going to be twisted around so that I admit that Mel Gibson was speaking the truth and that I’m the reason why we can’t get peace in the Middle East. Plus they’ll have me engaged to Paris Hilton.

Do I get grief from my friends and family for not being the breadwinner? I can only blame myself for only having degrees in English and Film. Have you ever heard of companies having fights to recruit folks with these degrees? I might as well have gone after a doctorate in Dinosaur Husbandry. At least that would get me on the History Channel Special T. Rex: Gettin’ It On! or was it called Bones That Bone?

One of my complaints about my lack of a real job is that in video production and publishing, staffs are getting cut. This process was proven when my interview was recorded by a solo production crew. One man did lights, camera and sound. How is anyone supposed to get a foot in an industry where it only wants to pay for one pair of shoes? Even trying to hook up with a publication is such a pain in the ass. Nobody wants to pay or give benefits. Look at how much of your local newspaper is wire reports.

My favorite moment of the interview is when I blame my outlook on full time employment on Scooby Doo. It’s true. Ever see those kids give a crap about getting a real job? Did you ever see them cash a paycheck? They just went through life solving mysteries and not even collecting reward money – outside of food that Scooby and Shaggy devoured. All the cartoons I watched as a kids were pretty “screw a real career.” Did Fred Flintstone really want to work at the quarry? And do you think if Wilma pulled in the fat dollars, he’d be cracking rocks with dinosaur heads?

Hopefully Dr. Drew won’t get brought on as a guest commentator. I don’t need to hear Dr. Drew giving his meatball psychology opinion about my life. This is the man who helped unleash Adam Carolla upon America. I thought doctors took an oath to do no harm? He better not call me a KFed-wannabe or I’ll drop latex gloves on him.

KFed wishes he was me since I get to live the life without having to deal with 4 babies and my wife’s little yappie dogs. At this moment, I don’t have clean feces off my carpet. Plus I didn’t have Matt Lauer’s bare ankles in my living room.

It’s a shame the Katie Couric couldn’t be the one introducing the piece. We had a history. She even had me put my hand around her when we posed for a pic that’s floating around the internet. Such a scandal. I only wish I’d been invited up to New York so that Willard Scott could have compared scalps with me. I feel bad that when I turn 100, Willard won’t be around to wish me a happy birthday. I can’t blame the guy for not working Saturdays. Do you really think that Willard will ever die?

So hopefully on Thursday (August 3) between 7 a.m. and 7:30 a.m., I will be an icon for a new generation of dreamers like Shaggy. The strange part is that I won’t be able to watch myself on the Today Show since I’ll be working on an industrial video in the Research Triangle Park. Maybe I’ll get bumped off the show when Mel Gibson and Floyd Landis are caught in Lindsay Lohan’s trailer?

Just remember folks, it’s all because of my wonderful wife that I’m living the dream. So don’t blow it for me. I got plenty of free time and I know where you live (thanks to my Interpol connections).

Don’t judge me since you should still be judging Mel Gibson.

 

 

Music For The Masses: August 3rd, 2006

Filed under: Music for the Masses — UncaScroogeMcD @ 2:50 am

 

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Hello again, friends!  Welcome back to another “hot and sweaty” edition of Music for the Masses, where I, your humble host, have recently returned from the mad-cap festivities of Comic Con, San Diego.  And, as predicted, I spent most of the weekend playing “What In The Hell Is THAT Smell??” with an army of portly, aromatic dorks.  Oh, and in case you’re wondering, the top three smells where, in this order, 1) B.O., 2) Tie between “Bologna Burp” and “Sniper Taco Fart” and 3) Sexual Desperation.  Now, what I DID NOT predict, or even expect, was the number of relatively “normal” people on hand for the event.  Seriously. . .who knew?  

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First rule of advertising:  Know your target market.
 

Sure every other guy (and girl, for that matter) tended to look like the “Comic Book Guy” from The Simpson’s, but the people I really wanted to see, the “costumed freaks,” were in fairly short supply.  In fact, I had to spend an inordinate amount of time combing the convention hall floor to get a good belly chuckle at a dressed-up geek’s desperate plea for attention.  Good thing I did, though, dear reader, because some of the shit I was able to find, you just wouldn’t believe without photographic evidence.  For instance, would you have believed that a guy spent the entire weekend running around in a diaper?  No, I’m not referring to your grandpa there, Jimmy. . .just some random dude in an adult diaper. . .

m4m-august3-cupid

When dealing with the long lines at Comic Con, never underestimate the convenience of wearing your own restroom.
 

Of course you wouldn’t.  Who the hell WOULD believe that?  Or how about this snapshot of a “man” I encountered in the Men’s restroom, I shit you not, 10 minutes after hitting the convention floor on Thursday morning. . .

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Lipstick. . .$5.  Red Hair Ribbon. . .$7.95.  350 lbs. male Snow White who grunts “No mistake, man. . .this IS the Men’s room” as you enter. . .priceless.  Thanks for the clarification, princess.  And check out Johnny BuzzCut there. It appears that I caught him contemplating which “sweater dwarf” he wants to see more, Perky or Pointy.  Good stuff.

And, of course, what would any self-respecting comic convention be without some Klingons?  Nothing, that’s what.  Sadly, though, these were the only Klingons I could find. . . 

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Maybe their “race” is dying out due to an apparent aversion to soap and lack of a discernable female gender.  In case you’re wondering, I think the “girl” is there on the right. . .in purple. . .with the beard.  But don’t hold me to that.

Speaking of “discernable female genders”. . .I knew going in that the comic book and sci-fi world’s are packed with super-hot chicks.  Any self-respecting geek does.  But after battling through hordes of hairy-chinned “women” on the convention floor, all of whom could easily play offensive line for the Indianapolis Colts, I had all but given up hope of actually seeing a babe.  So, imagine my surprise at stumbling across this gal. . .

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No matter how much I tipped, Leia upheld a strict “No Touch” policy during the entire lap dance.
 

. . .and finding out that a) she couldn’t break a $20 and b) she wasn’t even a stripper.  Oh well, thanks anyway, baby Jesus and George Lucas!!  But hey. . .don’t think Princess Hot Box there was the only beauty I spied with my “little eye.”Â  A few moments later, after battling through a pack of sweaty teens, all of whom smelled vaguely of banana-scented Clorox ®, I happened upon this hottie outside of the Marvel booth. . .

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I see London. . .I see France. . .
 

Feeling dizzy as the blood rushed from one brain to the other, I battled my way through the teeming, acne-scarred masses and headed outside.  Spotting two, actual babes. . .not drawings, but in person, no less. . .had me disoriented.  I needed air.  Once outside, I decided it was time to head back to the hotel for some “quality alone time,” but as I rounded the corner. . .BAMF!!. . .I ran straight into these. . .

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Yep, that’s Power Girl.  Now, I’m not 100% sure that she possessed any ACTUAL super powers, but in the movie I made up of her in my mind, she DOES have the ability to suck a golf ball through a garden hose. Oh, and umm. . .not sure how I captured that last picture there.  Damn camera must have been stuck in “zoom” mode or something.  Yeah, that’s it.

Seriously, folks. . .3 super hot chicks in the span of 15 minutes. . .all in one day.  In fact, as far as I could tell, these were the only 3, super hot chicks at the entire convention.  The rest looked like this. . .

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Eerie. . .the one looks EXACTLY like Kevin. . .if he were Hispanic. . .and a chick.
 

Suffice it to say, though, even without a multitude of hot, half-naked ladies or “costumed dorks,’ Comic Con was an INCREDIBLE time and I highly recommend that you check it out at some point.  Oh, and if you do?  Tell Slave Leia I said “hey” and ask her if she found my class ring.  I haven’t seen it since we. . .umm, never mind. 

But enough about all that, friends, for it’s time now to put Comic Con behind us and turn our attention to some new music. This time out, we’ll be checking out new releases from some old favorites, Tom Petty and Sammy Hagar.  Plus, Double A is back and checks in with the new one from Dead Prez and the Outlawz.  So what do you say, friends?  Let’s get to it!!   Of course, before we begin, I know you’re excited, but I’m going to have to ask that you turn off your light sabers now.  Go ahead. . .I can wait.  All right, then. 

m4m-august3-tphc Artist: Tom Petty
Album: Highway Companion
Bastard Love Child of: Don’t make me smack you. . .
Best for: Wondering how many times Tom and the band had to re-shoot that cake scene because they kept eating “Alice’s” naughty bits.

 

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Here’s something for you to chew on. . .over the course of a career that’s now spanned 30 years (50 million in sales. . .16 Grammy nominations), Tom Petty has yet to crank out a crappy album.  Sure, some are better than others (especially Full Moon Fever which suckles at the teat of greatness) but each and every one of his discs has hit the mark by serving up a heapin’ slab of solid, Petty pop/rock. Thirty years of that type of consistency is an amazing accomplishment, no matter how you slice it.  Hell, to put it in a different context for you, in 30 years, my only “amazing” accomplishments were learning how to burp the alphabet and to count to 21 without being naked.  

With his new, solo release (Petty’s third sans Heartbreakers), Highway Companion, Petty keeps his amazing streak intact by cranking out music that represents his best work in years.  Sure, Petty’s starting to get a little long in the tooth and he’s looking more and more like the Crypt Keeper every day, but the dude still rocks. . .even without the Heartbreakers.  And this new disc does, indeed, rock.  However, without his long-time band backing him, the album’s sound is bit softer than some of his previous work, coming across as a stripped down version of 1989’s Full Moon Fever, and Petty is forced to play all of the instruments (rhythm guitar, drums, harmonica, electric piano, bass, and lead guitar) himself.

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Petty’s brother from another mother.
 

Highway Companion starts off strong with “Saving Grace,” a song featuring a groovy, little boogie that will probably have ZZ Top, or even John Lee Hooker, questioning copyright infringement.  This track not only serves as the perfect, rocking start to the record but also serves as the first, wide-release single. . .and a great one, to boot.  Subsequent songs, like the sparsely accoustic “Square One,” the classic-sounding “Turn This Car Around” and the insanely catchy “Jack,” all unfold easily and re-enforce the albums “traveling the road of life” theme.

And speaking of traveling, Petty’s one-time band mate in the Traveling Wilburys, Jeff Lynne, he of the white-man afro and Amber Vision â„¢ shades, shows up to add some production muscle and, with the Heartbreaker’s Mike Campbell, keeps things nice and tidy.  The album hits a bit of a snag towards the end of the disc, as the last couple of songs drop into a mid-tempo rut, however, for the most part, Highway Companion is one hell of a trip and a must have for any Petty fan.

Rating:  4 out of 5

m4m-august3-shaw Artist: Sammy Hagar & The Wabos
Album: Livin’ It Up
Bastard Love Child of: Jimmy Buffet and the Red Rocker.
Best for: Realizing that you don’t make margaritas with really good tequila. It’s a waste. Oh, and that Sammy is doing just fine without the Van Halen’s.

 

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  If you are a fan of Van Halen, you’ve inevitably had a drunken conversation, bordering on an argument, with your friends regarding who was the better front man. . .”Diamond” David Lee Roth, the flamboyant, spandex-wearin’, karate-kickin’showman, or the laid back, frizzed-out, guitar-slingin’ “Red Rocker,” Sammy Hagar.  I’ve heard good arguments for both sides, but I’ve always found it kind of hard to give a shit.  You see, for me, I’m a fan of both versions of Van Halen and I give both front men kudus for bringing their own sound and personality to the mix.  However, recently I’ve begun to change my mind and as far as I am concerned, David Lee Roth can piss off, “doll hair” and all.  I’m throwing my vote to Sammy.  “Why” you ask?  That’s easy.  Tequila.  Plain and simple, Sammy makes a kick ass tequila and daddy loves tequila.  If you’ve never tried Cabo Wabo Reposado, you have no concept of what you’re missing.  Sure it’s a little pricey, but it goes down smooth and is the perfect ingredient for a night of fun.  Just ask this guy. . .

 

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Who said that gaining admittance to the Lance Bass Fan Club would be easy?
 

Now, if you haven’t been keeping track, it’s been 10 years since Sammy was unceremoniously booted from Van Halen for having, according to Eddie, “a shitty work ethic.”  Or, as I’m sure it sounded coming out of Eddie’s mouth, “ah thittee wa ekik.”  Really, Eddie?  Let’s see, during that time, the “Red Rocker” has released 6 studio albums.  Eddie?  You’ve released one, Van Halen III. . .and that doesn’t even really count.  So refresh my memory.  who has the shitty work ethic?  Granted, Sammy has never experienced solo success anywhere near the levels that he had with Van Halen, but it’s not for lack of effort.  In fact, two of the 6 discs he has released since leaving the band attempted to capture his stadium rocking days with a big, overblown sound and dizzying guitar work.  Unfortunately, both fell flat.  

The other four discs, including this new one, Livin’ It Up, were recorded with his band, the Wabos (David Lauser on drums, Vic Johnson on guitar and Mona on bass) and it’s in these collaborations where Sammy has really shined.  Hagar and the Wabos craft music that perfectly matches Sammy’s party attitude and lifestyle with many of the songs centering on nothing more than hanging out at bars, getting drunk and partying on the beach.  More or less, he’s making musical “commercials” for his tequila and cantina’s, but what the hell.  Whatever works, man.  

Not all of the songs on this new disc are originals, but all share the same vibe.  For instance, Sammy rocks out new covers of Dylan’s “Rainy Day Woman #12/#35,” Toby Keith’s “I Love This Bar” and Kenny Chesney’s “One Sip.”Â  Yeah, I’m not sure what the hell the country songs are doing on this disc either, but surprisingly, they work really well.  But again, this is not just a cover album.  Hagar kicks off the disc with the self-penned, bluesy rocker “Sam I Am” and a more traditional sounding “The Way We Live.”  Hell, he even throws in a tropical-tinged tune, “Living on a Coastline” that could make Jimmy Buffett sport wood.

So, as I’m sure you’ve probably gathered, you don’t pick up a disc like this for it’s social relevancy.  You pick a disc like Livin’ It Up because of it’s “fuck it” attitude and because it is a fun, little throw-away that can serve your summer parties well.  In that regard, Sammy’s music is a lot like his tequila.  

Rating:  3.5 out of 5

AND NOW A WORD FROM DOUBLE A. . .

m4m-august3-dpao Artist: Dead Prez & Outlawz
Album: Can’t Sell Dope Forever
Bastard Love Child of: Lyle Lovette and the fat Dixie Chick.
Best for: Reminding you how good other rap albums are.

Whenever I think of Dead Presidents, I think of two things.  The first being that kick ass movie from the 90s about the bank robbers that paint their faces up.  That movie ruled.  Seriously, I painted my face a lot after I saw that movie.  Here’s a picture”¦ (courtesy of http://www.punkrockpenguin.net/)

 

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The other thing that I think about is the movie Point Break.  Why is that you ask?  Because of those crazy president masks that Patrick Swayze and his crew were rocking while they robbed banks.  Regan, Nixon, that other guy. . .they’re all dead now.  What does all this have to do with the CD from Dead Prez and Outlawz?  Not a damn thing.  I just like reminiscing about dead Ronald Reagan.  It makes me happy.

Another thing that makes me happy is a good rap disc.  Unfortunately, Can’t Sell Dope Forever doesn’t exactly make me happy.  It isn’t bad, but on the flip side, it sure as hell isn’t good.  Let me put it this way, a way that myself and other large individuals can easily relate too.  Candy.  Not just candy, but the most delicious candy on earth, a Zagnut bar.  Now imagine that someone takes a perfectly good Zagnut bar and spits on it.  Being a fat guy, I’m still going to eat the tasty Zagnut bar, but it certainly won’t be as good as it could have been.  That’s how I feel after listening to this disc.

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There are several things on this disc that bug me.  First up?  The beats.  There really is nothing on this album that makes my ears perk up and say “wow.”Â  The beats are fairly standard, with little variation throughout the course of the song.  And as we have all learned by now, rap and Hip Hop ain’t shit without good beats.  The lone standout is the song “Fork In the Road” which has a strong baseline accompanied by an acoustic guitar.  Nice work, Prez. 

Next up is the lyrics.  Again, not all the lyrics are bad, in fact a lot of them are pretty good.  This is a whole package deal.  I’m looking for great rhythms paired with great rhymes.  But with this disc, you just don’t get that.  The really good lyrics have sub par beats, and the awesome beat has lame-ass words.  The song that comes closest to hitting the musical G-Spot is the last song on the album, “Came-Up.”Â  Featuring Layzie Bone from Bone Thugs, the raps are good, and the beat is almost there, but it still doesn’t hit that plateau of being a phenomenal song.

So color me annoyed, because this disc could have been so much better.  Both Dead Prez and the Outlawz have released some great stuff in the past so one would naturally assume that together they would be unstoppable.  Sadly, that’s just not the case.  Too bad. Too bad.

Rating:  2 out of 5 

Well. . .there you have it friends. Hope you enjoyed yourself! Until next time, keep wearing it proud and playing it loud!

Send your “Hot Chick” Comic Con pictures, review copies, presents and assorted hate mail to:

M.C. Bell
P.O. Box 1222
Arvada, CO 80001

 

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E-MAIL THE AUTHOR                    

 

August 2, 2006

Monkey Talk with Paul Dini: Comic-Con Teaser

Filed under: Monkey Talk — UncaScroogeMcD @ 4:05 am
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-By Paul Dini & Rashy

Paul Dini’s Monkey Talk (co-hosted by his irrepressible sock monkey son, Rashy) returns with a preview of the Comic-Con 2006 interviews to come. Be sure to check out Rashy’s official site at LittleRashy.com…

DOWNLOAD:

  • Large (560 x 420 – QuickTime – 183 MB)
  • Small (320 x 240 – QuickTime – 87 MB)
  • YouTube
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Brat-halla #139: Norse Force – Substi–

Filed under: Brat-Halla — UncaScroogeMcD @ 3:00 am

by Jeffery Stevenson and Seth Damoose with colors by Anthony Lee

Larger Comic Version | ARCHIVES | OLDER ARCHIVES

Brat-halla #139: Norse Force - Substi--

For extras, visit the Brat-halla Web site!

Check out the preview to the Image comic Jeff writes…

E-MAIL WRITER | ABOUT JEFF | ABOUT SETH | BRAT-HALLA BLOG | BRAT-HALLA FORUM | ARCHIVES

August 1, 2006

Toy Box: Family Guy Herbert – SDCC 2006 Exclusive

Filed under: Toy Box — admin @ 3:38 am

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You know, it just seems like there are so few exclusives at SDCC these days.  Really, what’s a guy supposed to do if he wants to spend some money? 

Obviously, I’m kidding. There are more exclusives at SDCC than hookers at a Charlie Sheen bachalor party. Even the smallest company has them, and often there are several from the larger companies.  Many of these are highly sought after, at least during and immediately after the convention, but are they really worth it?  I’ll be doing a number of reviews over the next month on some of the most interesting.

I’m starting tonight with the Family Guy Herbert from Mezco.  If you’re not a regular watcher of the show, you may not remember Herbert.  He’s the old man who often has rather inappropriate thoughts about Chris, leering at him whenever he delivers his newspaper.  With Herbert’s perverted and illegal sexual desires, it’s not surprising that he hasn’t been featured in any of the regularly released waves, even if he is a fan favorite.  Mezco made a smart move using the convention exclusive route to get this guy out to us, and hardcore fans will be pleased.

Herbert cost $20 at the show, but that wasn’t the only way to get him.  You could order him in advance of the show at either the Club Mez site, or the Mezco Direct site, and now that the con is complete, you can order him there again.

Family Guy Herbert – SDCC 2006 Exclusive

 

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Packaging – ***
The package is designed for the convention, with a convention exclusive sticker on the front and a photo of the two Family Guy exclusives – Herbert and the giant evil monkey – on the back.  Otherwise, it matches the normal Family Guy packaging, which looks decent and does the job.

 

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Sculpting – ***1/2
The sculpting work is solid here, and some aspects are four stars.  Still, the work on his head is slightly off, although putting my finger on it exactly is tough.  First, it seems a tad large for the body, moreso than on the cartoon.  Several of the features seem slightly off proportional as well, particularly the nose.  This is one of the tough characters for them to tackle on the show though, since there’s more ‘character’ in his face than others.  The sculpt is a little rough around the front of the chin, but still looks quite a bit like the old geezer.

The body sculpt is fine, although lacking in some of the weird lines of the show. It’s straight up from heel to hump, instead of having a bit of a bend at the waist.  The hand sculpts are terrific, allowing you to use the accessories and have some interesting poses.

While the head and body aren’t perfect, they’d be solid three star work at least on their own.  But one single feature pushed this guy up another half star for me – the hairs.  You see, poor old Herbert still has six or seven hairs sticking out of the top of his head from two different location.  Instead of trying to paint these, or use some sort of sculpted material, they used a stiff nylon (or that’s what it appears to be).  That means he has these nifty little stiff gray hairs poking out of the top of his head.  They’re almost impossible to see in photos, but in person they look terrific.  Excellent!

Oh, and unlike the cartoon Herbert, the action figure Herbert can stand fine on his own without the walker.

 

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Paint – ***
If you own other Mezco Family Guy figures, you know pretty much what to expect with the line.  Things are relatively clean, but there’s some bleed between colors, and the cuts aren’t always clean.  Herbert also suffers from a bit of blush on the cheeks, throwing off the consistency of his skin tone. It’s solid work, but not quite up to the same level of quality we’ve seen on other Mezco lines.

 

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Articulation – ***
Herbie has more articulation than the standard Family Guy figure, due in part to the design of the character.

See, he has this long skinny neck on the show, something most of the characters do not.  This allowed Mezco to include a ball jointed neck, up at the top, just below the head.  It works great, and fits the character’s attitude well.  Of course, you know how I feel about ball jointed necks.

He also has cut shoulders, cut elbows, cut wrists and a cut waist.  That gives him very good arm articulation for a cartoon character, and he can pose well with the walker, popsicle and newspaper.  Considering the design of the body and legs of the character, there wasn’t much addiitional articulation they could add there anyway.

 

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Accessories – ***1/2
Herbert comes with some terrific unique (no re-use!) accessories, that are very specific to his character.  There’s Jessie, his dog who has lost the use of his back legs, and drags himself around by the front.  Jasper’s sculpt is excellent, and he’s even articulated at the neck!  Obviously, he stands great on his own.  Or lays.  Or half lays.  You know what I mean.

There’s also Herbert’s walker, and if fits nicely in his sculpted right hand.  He can also rest on it with his left hand, so either position works great.  It takes a little work positioning the arms and hands just right, but you can also have all four feet of the walker flat on the ground with it in position in his right hand.

Chris delivers the newspaper to Herbert, so it’s fitting that he also has a rolled up paper.  This can fit in his left hand, but it takes a little finesse.

Finally, he has a popsicle, a treat he’s used to tempt poor Chris with on more than one occasion.  This one appears to be grape.  While the pre-production photos showed this in his left hand, that sculpt was altered to the more interesting version you see here.  He can still hold the sweet treat in his right hand, however.

 

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Fun Factor – **1/2
I’m not exactly sure this is a figure I’d give my kids to play with.  Even if I did, I have a tough time imagining a scenario in which he’d be useful.  Kids aren’t generally interested in wrinkled up old men, even when those wrinkled up old men might be a little too interested in them, like Herbert here.

However, he’s a great addition for any friend you might have that loves the show, and is a great figure for the desk at work.

Value – **
Twenty bucks – ouch.  People who are accostumed to paying $10 – $12 for a regular release figure might have a bit of a tough time with the price tag, but it’s not too unusual for a con exclusive.  $15 actually seems closer to right to me, at least for an average value score, but even at $20 you won’t feel too bad.  Unlike many exclusives that are nothing more than repaints, Herbert is a unique character with a unique set of accessories.

Things to watch out for –
Not a thing.  No worries here!

 

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Overall – ***
At $20, Herbert is a pretty expensive figure.  As an exclusive though, he’s a great choice, and as always with exclusives, his production numbers will be pretty low.

Casual fans aren’t going to care a whole lot about him, but hard core fans and collectors won’t want to miss out.  He is certainly a unique character, and you can even put him on the shelf with a few Michael Jackson dolls, and start your own special sub-category of action figures.

Where to Buy –
You can pick him up on ebay of course, but Mezco Direct is taking orders for the figures they have remaining after the con.

Related Links –
I’ve got plenty of Family Guy reviews to choose from:

– my last review covered wave 5, including the Greased Up Deaf Guy! 

– they recently released the series 1.5 family boxed set so you can have the whole family.

– Here’s my reviews of wave 1, wave 2, wave 3 and wave 4.

– also, I reviewed both the Peter and Lois two pack, and the Peter and Chicken two pack.

– Finally, there’s the review of the large talking Stewie.

 

 

Noctural Admissions: DVD, The Prisoner

Filed under: Nocturnal Admissions — UncaScroogeMcD @ 3:28 am

 

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On my crowded desk right now are seven books just on  The Prisoner, ranging from episode guides to serious considerations of its philosophical and political implications. All are fascinating, just as the show was fascinating when it was first broadcast on Britain’s ITV on October first,  1967 (it hit America on CBS in June 1968).

Title

 

Also on my desk is  The Prisoner: Complete Series Megaset (40th Anniversary Edition), the latest publication of the whole 17-episode series, from A&E Channel video library.   The Prisoner was originally issued in five individual box sets in April of 2001, and simultaneously in one big box for $150. The new  Prisoner megaset hit the street on July 25th (retailing for $139.95), cheaper, apparently, because of the thinpak cases, even though the set features new pull out material.  The new set has sharp transfers and the addition of a booklet on the series and a fold out map of the village, and, as far as I can tell, the addition of DD Stereo tracks on the discs (though some on line reviews indicate that the discs are the same as the previous set’s).

 The Prisoner made its debut to hosannahs from the print media, grateful for brain candy finally manufactured in that vast wasteland. But  The Prisoner may have been too brainy. It has the encoded thematic complexity of a Pre-Raphaelite painting, and what the reviewers at the time couldn’t know, a production crew in disharmony. Co-creator and story editor George Markstein left halfway though and one key collaborator, director Don Chaffey, also escaped. McGoohan himself eventually “left” the show, closing it down and ending it abruptly rather than continue with a second season. The consequence is that ultimately  The Prisoner is inconsistent. Like certain plays of Shakespeare or the Sherlock Holmes canon, it contradicts itself. Thus there can be no set answer to what  The Prisoner is about, based solely on critical interpretation of the show. This does not negate the fact that  The Prisoner is a great television show,

Forever after, Markstein and McGoohan would bicker in print over who invented the show. Was Markstein, who was a Jewish refugee (not American, as the Wikipedia has it) from Hitler’s Europe, really a spy himself, one with inside knowlege of a secret camp in Scotland used to rehabilitate spies? Or did the show’s idea come from the causal comment McGoohan heard at a cocktail party from a member of the governmental elite, when the actor posed the casual question, Where  do spies go when they retire?

The best way to approach  The Prisoner is through its credit sequence. It’s one of the most unusual openings in television history. For one thing, it is just over three minutes long, and each week walked the viewer though the premise all over again: how a spy resigned in some kind of fit of moral outrage and then woke up to find himself trapped on a bucolic holiday isle seemingly under the supervision of his former masters. In a way, and perhaps like all credit sequences, it promises more than the show can deliver. It is like a music video, all highlights and tease.

Patrick McGoohan

 

The credit sequence for  The Prisoner begins with a crack of thunder and the sight of ominous dark clouds. There has been a momentous rift in the social fabric, public and secret.

Then there is the simultaneous sounds of bongos on the soundtrack from the score by Ron Grainer, and the sight of a long road whose vanishing point issues forth a yellow Lotus 7. Close up, we see the intense, angry driver, Patrick McGoohan. The usual immediate association for him is with John Drake, his character in  Danger Man or Secret Agent, the cultish, sober spy program that aired off and on from from 1960 to 1968. Controversy reigns over whether this driver is Drake (McGoohan has “denied” it).

In successive shots, the man progresses from lonely road to London, past a church (Westminster Cathedral? That would tie in with McGoohan’s Catholicism, and the religious symbols he is said to have planted in the show; in any case, it is a really famous landmark and I am a dummy for not instantly recognizing it), and then turns right and descends into a parking garage. Next the man is shown walking angrily down a hallway with checkerboard lighting, passing in and out of shadow, his footfalls thumping ominously, not unlike Lee Marvin in the airport at the beginning of  Point Blank, also made in 1967.

Prisoner at the door

 

The man, this future prisoner, known as P in the script and No. 6 in the Village, is then shown pacing back and forth in front of an inpassive bureaucrat. This is not the way James Bond treated M. The man behind the desk in the credits is played by George Markstein, his only screen appearance. Pounding the table, P is obviously angry about somthing. But what? And if he is angry, and telling the bureaucrat why he is angry, and offering up a resignation letter, why are the Villagers so curious about why he resigned during the subsequent 17 hours?

Markstein

 

P has left. While he travels through the city his photo (a publicity shot of John Drake) is processed by automation as resigned. P arrives home and moves furiously around his digs. He trows a batch of travel brochures into his his suitcase. In a sense, he will get the vacation he seeks, transported shortly to a faraway locale.

While P is in his flat packing for a holiday, a tall funereal Edwardian figure pulls up  in a hearse behind P’s Lotus and approaches the door. In broad daylight he attaches a large tube to the keyhole, releasing thick white powder or gas into the flat. Note how often doors and doorways figure in the credit sequence as they do in the subsequent show itself. Portals to authority. Thresholds to secrets that don’t exist.

Gas

 

Sensing the gas P stops abruptly. For the first time we see the patented McGoohan freeze, a sudden tensing created in mid flight. He falls back onto a chesterfield and falls asleep.

Part of McGoohan’s appeal as an actor, at least a lead TV actor is his sardonic independence, his misleading seriousness broken up by real physical wit, and his his suave twitchiness, found in those bizarre stops and starts. He has a face made for the small screen, handsome yet odd, with protuberant eyes, and a voice with several different tones or accents in it at once. An international man. As partially a vanity project, McGoohan must carry the show, and he does.

But the credit sequence (in which there is a dearth of actual credits)  still isn’t over. P awakens in what appears to be the same room, but utside his window is a new locale. Here the music changes to a haunting theme with guitar and harmonium (?).

Now for the first time, words, in voice over, we hear words that summarize the hierarchies of life in the Village. It’s a dialogue between the Prisoner and that episode’s No. 2.

The Prisoner asks, “Where am I?”

The answers: “In the Village.”

“What do you want?”

“Information.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“That would be telling. We want information. Information. Information!”

“You won’t get it.”

“By hook or by crook, we will.”

“Who are you?”

“The new Number 2.”

“Who is Number 1?”

“**You are Number 6.”

“I am not a number – I am a free man!” To which No. 2 laughs sadistically.

Prisoner last shot

 

The dialogue is a mix of libertarianism and Lewis Carroll, with a hint of Holocaust anxiety (quarantined men stamped with numbers). Under it we see the current No. 2, the monitoring devices, the beach, and the Rover, the large weather balloon dragooned into being the Village cop. The power of the sequence is in the quick editing and the great music. The first half harks back to silent cinema (so does the second half, though: it doesn’t really need the dialogue, though it is helpful). The sequence manipulates the viewer just as the Village seeks to manipulate the Prisoner, psychologically, except the goal is to inform, not mislead or trick, as in the barrage of psychological experiments the Village tries on No. 6.

 

Brochures

 

To me, the most interesting part of the credit sequence is No. 6 rashly tossing in some travel brochures. He doesn’t know where he is going, he just has to get out of there, some where far away, and preferably sunny. He gets his wish. The Village is an even-climed resort where, as we learn, all your needs are met (if you comply). It’s half prison, half retirement home. Is the Prisoner the center of its attention? Does it exist  solely to pry out of him his secrets? It’s raison d’etre changes in the course of the show, but that is one possible theory. Still,  The Prisoner remains one of the greatest TV shows of all time, and continually rewards repeat viewings. It’s one of the tightest focused shows, anticipating the conceptual type of show such as  24 and  Lost only now coming to American television.

Village

 

The full frame transfers are crisp and clean, and the English (with subtitles) Dolby Digital 2.0 stereo is fine, with all 10 discs in thinpaks. New to the set is a 60-page “Limited Edition” pamphlet with episode summaries and trivia, and a map of the Village.

All the extras are carried over from the old set: interviews with production manager Bernie Williams, rare footage of the 1966 location shooting, with commentary by production designer Bernie Williams, “The Prisoner Video Companion,”an alternate edit of the episode “The Chimes of Big Ben,” “Foreign File Cabinet” footage, original broadcast trailers, original series promotional trailer, gallery of promotional materials and production stills, “interactive” map of the Village, and trivia quizs.

A&E’s discs can be controversial. There are running time discrepancies, transfer issues, and pricing outrages. This strikes me, a neophyte, as a good set, though I’m searching the net for a close, detailed analysis of the transfers.

 

Preachin’ from the Longbox: Right In Two

Filed under: Preaching from the Longbox — UncaScroogeMcD @ 3:25 am

 

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This Week’s Sermon – “Right In Two”

August 1, 2006

The 2006 Summer Con has officially started out with a bang. Last weekend (just in case you’ve been rendered into a short-term memory amnesiac), San Diego Comic-Con, also known as “Nerd Prom” from some of the mainstream media, was in full swing at the same time as a motion picture sequel of an 90s indie flick directed by some auteur hit the theaters.

(By the way, don’t think that I didn’t notice that the pot-calling-the-kettle-black irony of the whole “Nerd Prom” label. Believe it or not, most of those old high school newspaper people who were just as gawky and yes, even nerdy as comic book fanboys and fangirls. Really freaking hilarious. I mean, isn’t the original part-time job of Peter Parker, nerd boy extraordinaire, that of a newspaper photographer? Stan the Man was maybe a great writer but he didn’t just come up with that vocation on his own.)

But rather than delve into the past (meaning re-hash everything that has been said about this year’s SDCC), I’d rather turn my gaze to the next stop on the summer comic book convention season, which would be WizWorld Chicago.

As I think about the so-called nerds invading the Windy City, I remember something coming out of that show a couple of years back. You might remember it since I gave a quick shout-out to it during my now-classic Top Comic Book Soundtracks column.

In his own panel, Brian Michael Bendis brought out this idea of having a Batman/Daredevil one-shot crossover; quite possibly in hopes of eliciting a massive reader uproar that it would force the hands of both Marvel and DC to patch up their bitter rivalry (at least for the time it would take to write, draw and publish said one-shot).

Well, if you’re wondering what happened, then you haven’t been following the politics of comics that closely. The possibility of any type of joint DC/Marvel cross-publication was thoroughly squashed by Paul Levitz. No ifs, ands, or buts. And you can plainly see that it has been status quo ever since. DC’s “Infinite Crisis” begat Marvel’s “House of M” which begat “52” which begat “Civil War”; each one trying to top the other in both units sold and number of monthly comic books affect by these company-wide crossovers. (I would mention “Identity Disc” as part of that equation but it ended up being just a figurative jab at DC’s “Identity Crisis” and a pretty pathetic one at that.)

Again, as always with these corporate fights, the real losers are the consumers. While the public reception for the D.G. Chichester/Scott McDaniel “Daredevil and Batman” of the late 90s (prior to this most recent embargo) was somewhat mixed, there’s no doubt how the fans would’ve clamored to see Bendis and Oeming’s take on the team-up.

So, instead of waiting until the comic industry’s version of the Cold War to thaw out, I’ve decided to honor BMB’s actions two years ago by offering what I think would be great Marvel/DC cross-publisher team-ups that would no possible way of seeing the light of day. Just consider the sub-byline of this column to be “The Theater of the Preacher’s Mind”.

 (Of course, what would a PftL column be without a few disclaimers: 1 ““ there is no order in the team-up sequences; these ideas are represented as they came out of my brain. Yes, it is very tragic. 2 ““ the creative teams do not take into account current exclusivity contracts. Yes, this is my world and you should thank me for being a part of it. And 3 ““ if any one of these ideas see print, I’m laying claim to some residuals that should come my way. That last one is just a lame attempt into deriving some income from this column. Like I said before, these team-up won’t possibly happen.)

With that outta the way, here are:

PftL’s Five Marvel/DC Team-Ups that will never happen

 

Batman/Daredevil

 

Batman/Daredevil
Creative Team: Brian Michael Bendis/Jim Lee
How the Team-Up Happens: Matt Murdock is called to Gotham to represent Two-Face, which royally pisses Batman off to the point of confronting Murdock to let him know that he’ll keep his eye on him. Misunderstandings and fisticuffs commence.
Why the Team-Up/Creative Team: Well, I can’t really have a column at all without giving some props to this potential cash cow. And like I said before, even though this team-up has been done before (to some extent), you would almost bet the farm (or at the very least a couple of your offspring) that this book, in these guys’ capable hands would blow up big time. Daredevil’s catholic guilt-laden crusade against the violence in Hell’s Kitchen is very similar to the Dark Knight’s one in Gotham (without the religious overtures and the influx of young sidekicks respectively). Creatively, Bendis knows his way around the crime drama genre about as well as anyone out there; reading his take on these two brothers from different mothers would be a treat. And I shouldn’t have to explain Jim Lee’s selection for art duties but suffice it to say that with his relatively recent change in pencil drawing technique, his characters seem to be more fluid than his old Marvel/Image days. Then again, I’m more than biased towards the man’s body of work. So, he can do no wrong as far as I’m concerned.

Doom Patrol/Fantastic Four

 

Doom Patrol/Fantastic Four
Creative Team:
Keith Giffen/J.M. DeMatteis/Kevin Maguire
How the Team-Up Happens: The Doom Patrol is thrown into the Phantom Zone and is pulled to the Baxter Building by the FF as part of the exploration of a Weird Negative Zone phenomenon
Why the Team-Up/Creative Teams: With this creative team, they’ve done wonders for such teams like the Justice League International and the Defenders. So, instead of going to the well a second time (or third for the JLI), I would love to see them mine comedy gold from the first family of Marvel and the oddballs of the DCU. Let’s face it ““ a team-up featuring the Torch and the Thing bickering at each other with Reed’s pained expressions in the background played up against Robotman and Beast Boy clashing at every turn would make for a pretty good read; especially when you consider Maguire’s talent for realistic facial expressions. Plus, I would love hearing such snide remarks about the obvious comparisons between both the X-Men and Challengers of the Unknown. This one may have to be at least a two-parter.

 

Deadpool/Plastic Man

 

Deadpool/Plastic Man
Creative Team:
Gail Simone/Ed McGuinness
How the Team-Up Happens: Deadpool is contracted out to assassinate Eel O’Brien (a.k.a. Plastic Man) and wackiness ensues
Why the Team Up/Creative Team: This selection is also caught up with the funnies. I have to concede that this one (as well as the FF/DP team-up) is probably an unconscious decision on my part due to all of the grim and ultra-serious superhero books that are out right now. Besides, who wouldn’t love to read this story? First, it’ll be written by Simone, who was criminally overlooked when she wrote DP the series was given the axe. Then, team her up with Deadpool fan fav McGuinness, whose hybrid Manga/traditional animation, bigger than life action scenes flavor are uniquely his own. A mix that would result in the comic industry getting a one-shot that would sell as well as Supernova’s first CD. Okay, I’m kidding ““ I would guarantee that it would sell better than this supposed “supergroup”. Now if you’re talking Army of Anyone, then all bets are off.

 

Adam Strange/Nova

 

Adam Strange/Nova
Creative Team:
Alexandro Jodorowsky/Juan Gimenez
How the Team-Up Happens: Adam Strange is on his usual Zeta Beam journey to Rann until the Thanagarians, using technology devised by Sardath, diverts Strange to the Marvel Universe where he bumps into Nova.
Why the Team-Up/Creative Team: In the past couple of years, both publishers have gone back to some of their sci-fi pulp roots with some degree of success. So, it would make sense to capitalize on this trend by getting a couple of their hot-tempered space heroes in a by the book, classic mix-up team-up. However, if these creators were to be used, the book would be thrown out the window.

Jodorowsky is a renowned writer over on the other side of the Atlantic (ya know, in the place where comics gets their collective respect as a viable artistic medium) and has been on point with the tragic, poignant, over-the-top “Metabarons”. (By the way, if you haven’t read at least the first trade, you are doing yourself a great disservice. Plus, you can get extra cool points with your capes-and-tights friends by showing them the light. As always, I’m here to provide a service as well as entertain.)

The artist on “Metabarons”, Gimenez, knows how to draw anything that would be considered futuristic but in such a way that it looks very plausible ““ from guns to space ships to naked alien hoes. Plus he can do humor as his “Leo Roa” series can attest. And how these guys roll, I would love to see this one-shot be the only one to get both a Marvel MAX and DC Vertigo stamp.

 

Dr. Strange/Zatanna

 

Dr. Strange/Zatanna
Creative Team: Michael Avon Oeming/Neil Vokes
How the Team-Up Happens: A flux in the Marvel Universe’s magik realm created by the dreaded Dormammu sends Dr. Strange spiraling towards the DCU and a meeting with Zatanna to help him get back to his proper home but not without clashing on magic’s best practices.
Why the Team-Up/Creative Team: Of all of the mystics that abound at both Marvel and their Distinguished Competition, I usually gravitate towards these two. Strange is always played to be so bohemian which appeals to my interests in Eastern Philosophy. Plus, he always has the best incantations like Dread Dormammu, Hosts of Hoggoth, All-Seeing Agamotto, and Vishanti just to name a few. Then, you have Zatanna, the fanboy’s veritable wet dream all wrapped up in fishnets, a man’s tuxedo shirt, and top hat. Very nice. Then you have her backwards delivery of her enchantments, which lends to her uniqueness. It’s the Zen-like mystic meeting the Vegas performer. Let’s face it – these two are meant to cross paths at some point.

Crazy Mel GibsonAs for the creative teams, I feel that Oeming is becoming known for his writing than his artwork; a tough act to do considering his tremendous work on Powers and Hammer of the Gods. But after reading some of his Thor work (and HotG), I’m sure that he can prove that he more than a one-trick Norse pony. Or would that be steed? Then you have Mr. Vokes who has been in the biz for some time but his name never seems to come up in regards to fan popularity, which I don’t get. His line work is tight and his action scenes are solid enough that he almost never has to revert to an overuse of splash pages (a crutch used by many successful artists in this Modern Age ““ Mr. Lee included). If you take into account that Vokes never got his chance with his Dr. Strange pitch due to change in publishing focus (more X-titles, less everything else), he kinda deserves another shot. If you have doubts on this selection, just go check out Parliament of Justice. You won’t be disappointed and you’ll be able to see that I’m so in the right with this last selection.

Now, I might be as loony as Mel Gibson on a serious bender but I can’t for the life of me figure out why DC and Marvel won’t make a way to get these books done. I mean, we, as the buyers of comics, should be the driving force in making the decisions on what books to publish. And right now, everyone is trying to streamline their universes while still trying to cover any available shelf space with as many issues as possible. However, that’s not good enough, at least for me. Right now, I’m not just talking about stopping this insane need for Dc and Marvel to make all of their books into one big company crossover. They can do that all they want since I’m not buying most of them. I’m talking about making our collective voices heard by saying we want these cross-publisher team-ups. Comics should be a place where creativity flows freely and allows ideas to come to fruition. Right now, it’s not. And that’s as sad as hearing that Eddie Van Halen has been reduced to scoring instrumentals for porn. I guess he’s gotta pay for his alimony and child support somehow and since VH is basically down the tubes, sleepwalking through a Joe Satriani/Steve Vai rip-off is about what he’s been reduced to doing. But this career turn suddenly gives a whole new meaning to “Ain`t Talkin` `Bout Love”, doesn’t it?

Alright, I’m off the Longbox this week. Tune in on August 14th as I will be doing something that I’ve never done in this column before in an all-new special. Until then, keep your bags & boards together and your continuity straight.

-britt

 

DVD Late Show: TV for Insomniacs

Filed under: DVD Late Show — UncaScroogeMcD @ 3:22 am

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August 2, 2006

Welcome back to the Late Show! This week, I’ve got reviews of virtually every damned TV-on-DVD box set that’s shown up in my mailbox over the last couple of months”¦and that’s a lot!

Since I don’t have cable or satellite, the only TV shows I watch these days are on DVD, and I prefer it that way. No commercials, pop-up blurbs or station I.D. “bugs,” no trimming for syndication, and most of the time, there’s extra features like bloopers, cast and crew interviews and creator commentaries to enrich the experience”¦ as far as I’m concerned, it’s the only way to watch TV. Judging from the DVD-on-TV sales figures, a lot of other people think that way, too.

So, let’s get to the reviews. We’ve got private eyes, outer space adventurers, live-action and cartoon superheroes and even a couple very different kinds of secret agents, so there should be something here for just about all of you”¦

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Of all of the genre shows that I loved as a child, very few hold up well today. Fortunately, one of the rare exceptions has just hit DVD in its first full-season set: THE INCREDIBLE HULK ““ SEASON ONE (1977).

Based on the Marvel Comics character and starring TV veteran Bill Bixby (MY FAVORITE MARTIAN, THE MAGICIAN), THE INCREDIBLE HULK told the tale of a benevolent scientist named David Banner, who accidentally overdoses on gamma radiation during an experiment. Because of this, whenever he gets angry or stressed, he physically transforms into a muscular, inarticulate green giant (Lou Ferrigno, THE ADVENTURES OF HERCULES). When a fellow scientist is killed in an explosion blamed on the Hulk, Banner is also presumed dead in the blast. Rather than turn himself in to the authorities to be locked up and experimented on, Banner instead decides to take to the road, hiding his true identity and searching for a way to reverse his condition. Cue the sad piano music.

With the sincere and sympathetic Bixby as Banner, THE INCREDIBLE HULK was a surprisingly successful remake of the previous decade’s mega-hit show, THE FUGITIVE, spiced up with just a dash of fantasy. In both shows, our hero wanders the countryside, pausing briefly in his travels to involve himself in people’s lives, and managing to solve their problems just as the time comes to move on again. The beauty of the formula, though, is that it works. What you end up with is essentially an anthology show with a continuing lead: one episode can be pure soap opera, another a crime thriller, the next, a scaled-down disaster flick. The drama keeps the grownups watching, and as long as Banner “Hulks out” twice an episode, the kids are happy, too.

Universal has released various episodes of this show on DVD previously (to tie-in with the Ang Lee feature film from a few years ago), but this is the first full-season release. As such, it contains both original 2-hour TV movies, and the ten episodes that followed, when the show was picked up as a mid-season replacement series. Compared to other TV shows of this vintage ““ especially from Universal ““ HULK looks incredible! Presented in its original 1.33:1, full-frame format, most of these episodes look like they were shot today. Picture quality is remarkably sharp, with solid colors, no obvious artifacts and only occasional instances of print damage, dust or speckling. The only audio option is good old Dolby mono, but it’s crystal clear and well-balanced.

Extras are minimal: there’s a commentary track by writer/producer/director Kenneth Johnson on the first TV movie (recycled from a previous DVD release of that film), and an episode from Season Two, “Stop the Presses,” has been slapped onto the last disc. Originally, it was announced that the set would include an interview with Ferrigno (also recycled from that previous release), but it doesn’t appear to be included in this set.

For fans of the show, this set is unreservedly recommended. The picture and sound quality is stellar, the lenticular packaging is clever, and generally speaking, the writing, direction and performances hold up wonderfully, even after nearly thirty years.

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Like many B-movie fans, I’m a big fan of actor Bruce Campbell (THE EVIL DEAD, ARMY OF DARKNESS, BUBBA HO-TEP). Thus, I was pleased to see both of the one-season television series he starred in ““ THE ADVENTURES OF BRISCO COUNTY JR. and JACK OF ALL TRADES (2000) making it to DVD this month. Of course, Warners doesn’t send me review copies, but Universal does”¦so it’s JACK we’re taking a look at here.

Set in 1801, Bruce plays Jack Stiles, a Revolutionary War hero and U.S. spy, who is sent by Thomas Jefferson to the tiny South Pacific island of Polau-Polau to work with British operative Emilia Rothschild (Angela Marie Dotchin) to foil the advances of the French Emperor, Napoleon Bonaparte (Verne Troyer) in his bid for world conquest.

Originally syndicated as half of an hour package with the dismal (despite the presence of the stunning Gina Torres) CLEOPATRA 2525, JACK OF ALL TRADES is a half-hour adventure comedy filled with broad, anachronistic humor, double-and-triple-entendres, Stooges-styled slapstick, and plenty of Campbell charm. In fact, if it had been a full-hour show and hadn’t been chained to the derivative CLEO, JACK might have had a chance.

Universal’s Complete Season set of JACK OF ALL TRADES is a bare bones affair, but while it would have been great to have Campbell involved with the release (nobody provides more entertaining commentaries than Bruce), it’s good to have this show on DVD at all. The 22 episodes of the series are presented in crystal clear, 1.33:1 full frame transfers, and look and sound perfect. They are spread across three separate discs, each in its own slimcase. There are no extra features whatsoever.

For Campbell fans, this is a must-buy. While it lacks the Chinned One’s personal participation, the episodes themselves are presented perfectly.

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ADV Films originally released the Sci-Fi Channel series FARSCAPE to disc back in the early days of the DVD format. About a year ago, they started re-issuing them in new special “Starburst” editions. I’ve been reviewing ADV Films’ FARSCAPE STARBURST EDITIONS since they began, and I recently finished viewing all three volumes in their THIRD SEASON collection.

FARSCAPE tells the increasingly twisted tale of American astronaut John Crichton (Ben Browder, STARGATE SG1), who is flung through a wormhole to the distant reaches of the galaxy, where he is reluctantly taken in by a rag-tag band of escaped prisoners on a living spaceship. Fugitives, they have to keep moving, avoiding Peacekeeper forces, bounty hunters and assorted other malevolent aliens. By the chaotic third season, the primary villain is a galactic Frankenstein known as Scorpius (Wayne Pygram), who desperately wants the secrets of wormhole travel, and has forcibly extracted the relevant data from Crichton’s brain, leaving the astronaut more than a mite mad. And, if that wasn’t bad enough, our hero is soon cloned ““ and then there’s two Crichtons running around the galaxy having separate adventures! It’s all insanely fun.

The production values and digital effects are among the best seen on television, and the writing is razor sharp, embracing the absurd without ever making it seem anything but completely reasonable. Humor is dark and edgy, and the already well-drawn characters continue to deepen, with relationships that get more and more convoluted with virtually every episode. The production and costume designs are amazing, and somehow, the Henson shop manages to keep coming up with cooler alien make-ups and space Muppets for each installment.

FARSCAPE Season Three is presented full-frame, and the transfers are perfect. Sound is offered in both Dolby stereo and a more robust 5.1 surround mix. Thankfully, with season three, ADV abandoned the glitch-plagued dual-sided double-layered discs of the earlier volumes, and have switched to single-sided discs. This means that each of the three sets in the season have four discs instead of three, and are a bit more expensive, but this is the first time I could watch a whole season without any episodes seizing up.

As before, ADV continues to load these editions down with bonus features, starting with on-screen liner notes and trivia for each episode. There are also cast and/or crew commentary tracks on many episodes, Sci-Fi Channel promos spots, and a slew of video featurettes and interviews with cast and crew.

The show is highly recommended, and kudos to ADV for making a great series of DVDs even better!

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By the time the heroic He-Man made his debut in afternoon syndication, I was too old for cartoons (or so I thought), so I missed out on the whole phenomenon (I kinda liked the Dolph Lundgren movie though). But for those who grew up with the blond-tressed muscleman and his animated adventures, BCI/Eclipse has been steadily unleashing the action figure heroes and villains of Eternia upon the marketplace in pretty nifty, collectible box sets. In fact, I’ve got HE-MAN AND THE MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE SEASON TWO, VOL. 1 (1983) right here on my desk.

Set on the planet Eternia, THE MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE focuses on mild-mannered Prince Adam and his cowardly green tiger, Cringer. And a bigger pair of losers the galaxy has never seen. Yet, whenever the evil Skeletor and his henchmen threaten the peace of their kingdom, Adam and his pet call upon the magical power of Castle Grayskull and become the heroic, sword-wielding He-Man and armored Battle Cat.

Produced by the notorious Filmation Studios to sell a line of Mattel action figures and accessories, the syndicated weekday afternoon toon was astoundingly popular in the Eighties, spawning a spin-off series for girls (SHE-RA, THE PRINCESS OF POWER), an animated feature film (THE SECRET OF THE SWORD), and even a live-action feature from Cannon Films. Its following included not only young children and toy collectors, but college students as well. Like all Filmation shows, the animation was limited, although colorful and well designed, constantly recycling shots and sequences. As the series was really nothing but a toy commercial, FCC regulations required a certain amount of socially redeeming or educational content, so each episode also had a ham-fisted moral. Yet, there’s something appealing about the simplicity of its good vs. evil formula and the endless parade of bizarre characters. I’m not a fan, but I can see how people of a certain generation could still have a nostalgic affection for it, and my best friends’ five-year-old loved it when I showed it to him.

BCI/Eclipse has pulled out all the stops with these sets. Each volume includes 30 half-hour episodes spread across six discs, tucked into lavishly illustrated packaging. The episodes ““ presented in their original 1.33:1 full frame aspect ratio ““ look very good overall, with bright colors and sharp details. There’s a fair amount of dust and debris ““ much of it inherent in the animation processes of the time ““ but I saw no digital artifacts or major print damage. There’s also two new behind-the-scenes documentaries featuring interviews with many of the staff and writers that created the series, three full-length episode commentaries, fifty detailed character profiles, two beautiful comic art cards, and on-screen trivia games.

Like I said, I’m not a HE-MAN sorta guy myself, but I know a lot of people my age or a little younger that have a strong nostalgia for the show. BCI has put together a set that should satisfy any hardcore fan.

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Another Filmation endeavor making its DVD debut is the Saturday morning classic, THE NEW ADVENTURES OF FLASH GORDON, from 1979-80.

When the rogue planet Mongo enters our solar system on a collision course for Earth, scientific genius Dr. Hans Zarkov, athlete Flash Gordon, and his girlfriend Dale Arden blast off in a rocketship of the doctor’s invention, hoping to find a way to turn the alien planet from its course. Crash landing on its surface, they find Mongo inhabited by a vast array of sentient creatures, all under the rule of the tyrannical Ming the Merciless. It soon becomes clear to the Earthmen (and Earthwoman) that the only hope of saving Earth lies in uniting the distrustful, ever-warring races of Mongo against the sinister space tyrant.

I have to say, that in my book, this show (first season only) is right up there with Jonny Quest, Thundarr and Batman The Animated Series among the great animated adventure shows. By Filmation standards, the animation is rather lush, with lots of rotoscoping and elaborate backgrounds and character designs. Being a limited-budget, limited-animation product of the Seventies, there’s the usual relentless recycling of footage and repetitive music cues, but it is executed with a level of care and ingenuity that is rare in cartoon shows of this vintage.

In the first season episodes, the writing is not dumbed down for kids and follows the continuity of the original Alex Raymond comic strips quite faithfully. Characters are actually killed (disintegrated) on-screen, and the female characters are designed to be blatantly sexy. Ming’s got his harem and King Vultan’s got dancing slave girls… there’s no way they would have been able to get away with that even a few years later in the 80s.

The first season is presented as an ongoing serial with cliffhangers. The second season is made up of 16 fifteen-minute segments that are, unfortunately, aimed squarely at small children, with simpler, sillier stories and the addition to the cast of a pink baby dragon called Gremlin.

Once again, BCI (under their new Ink and Paint label) and animation expert Andy Mangels have put together a very nice DVD set. While the episodes definitely show their age, with a considerable amount of visible dirt and debris (inherent in this kind of animation) and somewhat faded colors, there are no noticeable digital artifacts or compression problems, and the audio is sharp and clear.

There are some great extras included ““ a 20 minute documentary wherein Filmation head honcho Lou Scheimer and other studio staffers reminisce about the show and the TV feature that proceeded it. There are character model sheets, some storyboards, the series bible and some scripts on DVD-ROM, and even the entire first episode of the 1980’s syndicated series DEFENDERS OF THE EARTH. This 80’s series (coming from BCI later this year) also starred Flash Gordon, along with The Phantom, Mandrake the Magician, his sidekick Lothar and their teenaged children, all teaming up to battle Ming. The premise was okay, but looked and sounded like every other show that Marvel Productions made in the 80s: bland. Also inserted into the set are a fold out episode guide and two collectible art cards featuring beautiful illustrations by comic book artists Frank Cho and Gene Ha.

Overall, I think that the first season of the Filmation Flash Gordon is one of the best adaptations of the character to film (right up there with the Buster Crabbe serials of the Thirties), and one of the best animated adventure series ever. The DVD set is very nice ““ the picture quality’s not perfect, but better than I expected after nearly 30 years.

Recommended.

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In the mid-Sixties, the television Westerns, which had dominated the medium virtually from its conception, were starting to lose ratings to a handful of upstart spy shows, inspired by the cinema success of a certain double-O agent. Trying to find a way to exploit the success of the spy genre without losing the still-vast Western audience, producer Michael Garrison proposed combining the two genres, and the result was the one-of-a-kind adventure series, THE WILD WILD WEST (1965-66).

This innovative show chronicled the adventures of Civil War heroes-turned-Secret Service agents James West (Robert Conrad) and Artemus Gordon (the late Ross Martin), as they toured the Western frontier in a private train, foiling the evil machinations of rogue Confederate generals, mad scientists and all the assorted other bad guys that threatened the peace and stability of our young nation. Chief among those menaces was the charming Dr. Miguelito Loveless, a brilliant inventor only three feet tall, whose capacity for murderous mischief reigned unparalleled. But no matter how bizarre or formidable the threat ““ be it flame-throwing cannons, deadly duplicates, earthquake machines, steam-driven cyborgs, or LSD-carrying ducks ““ Jim and Arte always managed to save the day with wit, style, some astounding stunts and an arsenal of anachronistic gadgets that even Bond’s Q might envy.

Paramount/CBS Video have just released the entire first season of this amazing show on DVD in a high-quality package. The set includes all 28 episodes from the black & white first season, restored and remastered and looking virtually brand new. Each episode includes a brief audio introduction by star Robert Conrad, and there are a number of other audio features on the set, including a commentary track on the pilot episode, and interviews with some of the writers and other crewmembers from the show. There’s also a still gallery, TV spots, the original title animation (minus one “Wild”), and one of Conrad’s famous Eveready commercials, in which he dared viewers to knock a battery off his shoulder.

The 70-year-old Conrad sounds weary and a bit feeble in his audio introductions, and that’s kind of startling, as I ““ and most fans ““ remember him as one of TV’s perpetual tough guys. But age catches up with everyone, I suppose, and I’m glad he was able to participate in this release at all. He certainly still sounds proud of the show and his work on it, 40 years later.

It’s a superior DVD set for a superior television series, and it gets my highest recommendation. Vintage TV rarely gets as creative, unique and smart as this.

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Not only is Universal’s release of THE ROCKFORD FILES ““ SEASON TWO (1975-76) a marked improvement over their first season set, they’ve finally made available on DVD the original TV-movie pilot, which was notably (and annoyingly) missing from the first release.

THE ROCKFORD FILES was a huge mainstream hit in its day (running from 1974 to 1980 with eight TV movies in the 90’s) and has been a syndication mainstay ever since, and for good reason. Simply put, FILES was the best private eye show in the history of the medium. Grounded by James Garner’s incomparable charm and some of the sharpest writing on the tube (mostly by a young Stephen J. Cannell), the show chronicled the decidedly non-glamorous life of Jim Rockford, an ex-con (he was innocent) turned private investigator in Los Angeles. Rockford was one of the first TV eyes who didn’t wear expensive suits and operate out of a fancy office. He worked out of (and lived) in an old mobile home on the beach, and realistically had to deal with overdue bills, collection agents and deadbeat clients.

The Second Season improved on the first in many ways, with even tighter scripts, an expanded supporting cast, and some top-notch guest stars like Louis Gossett, Jr., Rob Reiner, Linda Evans, and John Saxon, among others. Stand-out episodes include the two-part “Gearjammers,” in which Rockford’s dad (the great Noah Berry Jr.) is unknowingly targeted for assassination, and “The Hammer of C Block,” which guest stars Isaac Hayes as an ex-con acquaintance of Rockford’s who’s out to clear his name. Series regular Gretchen Corbett gives a remarkable performance in “A Portrait of Elizabeth,” a powerful episode which focuses on (and gives some real insight into) Rockford’s attorney/sometime-girlfriend Beth Davenport.

Picture and audio quality of season Two is on a par with the first set ““ full-frame, 1.33: 1 transfers with a fair amount of age-related wear. Overall, though, the image is solid, with bright colors and only minimal print damage. For a show of its thirty-year vintage, THE ROCKFORD FILES looks pretty damned good. The soundtrack is Dolby mono, as is to be expected, and it’s more than adequate.

With the Second Season set, Universal has abandoned the trouble-plagued dual-sided/dual-layered flipper disc and have instead spread the 22 episodes across six discs. For extras, Universal has provided a video interview with head writer and co-creator Stephen J. Cannell, and the complete TV movie/pilot film, “Backlash of the Hunter,” which co-stars Lindsey Wagner.

Recommended.

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I’m going to wrap up this installment of the Late Show with a review of another episode of Showtime’s hit horror series, MASTERS OF HORROR: LUCKY McKEE ““ SICK GIRL (2005).

To quote my own previous description of the series: the big event for fright film fans in 2005 was the debut of an original Showtime anthology series created by filmmaker Mick Garris (SLEEPWALKERS) called MASTERS OF HORROR. The premise was simple: take thirteen of the most acclaimed directors of modern horror films and have them each direct a one-hour mini-feature, with no restrictions or network censorship. The resulting series was ““ as is probably inevitable with anthologies ““ something of a mixed bag.

Director Lucky McKee is a relative newbie, with one released feature (MAY) and one unreleased feature (THE WOODS) to his credit when he was asked to join the MASTERS. His entry, SICK GIRL, stars Angela Bettis (MAY, THE TOOLBOX MURDERS) and Erin Brown (better known to Late Show regulars as “Misty Mundae,” star of THE SCREAMING DEAD, SPIDERBABE and SHOCK-O-RAMA) as a pair of lesbian lovers whose perfect romance takes a decidedly deadly turn when one of them is stung by an unusual South American insect.

Mixing dark humor with a bit of sapphic romance and plenty of last reel gross-outs, SICK GIRL is an amusing trifle, playing out as sort of a R-rated TWILIGHT ZONE story. It’s not particularly scary or challenging, but it is definitely fun.

As usual, Anchor Bay provides a pristine1.77:1 anamorphic widescreen transfer and a robust Dolby Digital 5.1 audio mix. (A 2.0 Dolby stereo track is also included). Anchor Bay (their parent company, IDT Entertainment, co-produced the series) has chosen to release each episode separately rather than the whole bunch in a season set, as the individual releases allow the company to really load down each disc with episode-specific bonus features. First of all, McKee, composer Jaye Barnes Luckett, and cast members Bettis and Jesse Hlubik team up for an entertaining audio commentary. Then there’s the usual slew of “making of” featurettes, with the usual cast and director interviews, behind-the-scenes montage and career retrospective. The bonus material is rounded out with a still gallery, MASTERS OF HORROR trailers, a Lucky McKee text bio, and a DVD-ROM screensaver.

That’s it for this mother. I’d like to remind you that every review I’ve written for this column is archived at www.dvdlateshow.com, searchable both by publication date and by title. We’re talking over 200 reviews now ““ that’s a lot of shiny plastic discs! There’s bonus reviews by my drinking buddies, and a couple of other features, too. So why not head over when you’re finished here, and browse around for a while?

Next week, we’ll be back to the B-movie grind, with a mixed bag of cult-film and exploitation goodness (and badness ““ but that’s good, too, right?) both domestic, and from the far corners of the world. See you then!

Comments about this column or DVD-related questions? Feel free to contact me at dvdlateshow@atomicpulp.com.

July 31, 2006

Spook’d #88: Extreme Lair Makeover – Bringing Down The House

Filed under: Spook'd — UncaScroogeMcD @ 3:50 am

by Jeffery Stevenson and Seth Damoose with colors by Anthony Lee

Larger sized comic | ARCHIVES | OLDER ARCHIVES

Spook'd #88: Extreme Lair Makeover - Demolition

To see Spook’d host Alastor’s blogging silliness and more fun Spook’d stuff,visit the Spook’d Web site!

Check out the preview to…

E-MAIL WRITER | ABOUT JEFF | ABOUT SETH | SPOOK’D BLOG | SPOOK’D FORUM | ARCHIVES | OLDER ARCHIVES

Disclaimer: All material in Spook’d is fictitious and intended solely for the purpose of entertainment. Names are fabricated and any similarity to real people or places is purely coincidental except in those cases where public figures are being satirized.

Widge Goes Off #6: The Podcast That Lasted 2000 Years!

Filed under: Widge Goes Off — widge @ 3:49 am
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widgepic.jpgWelcome back. Thank you for returning once again to my little shoebox in middle of road. Let’s get down to business, shall we?

[CONTENT WARNING] This podcast contains foul language and has been known to make concerned parents’ faces melt off a la final reel of Raiders.

DOWNLOAD: mp3 Format (30.8 MBs)

DJ B-Naut, who I namecheck within, has some of his stuff here. Enjoy.

That’s right, kids, that means it’s time for another session of Monday Morning Box Office Quarterbacking. Make sure you follow along at Box Office Mojo.

Miami Vice finally knocks Pirates off its pedestal, but…not by much. And still, $25 mil isn’t a lot when you consider the damn movie took $135 million to make. So they’ve got a long way to go. And I honestly think it’s going to lose out next weekend to Ricky Bobby. So we’ll see.

Pirates 2 is about to break $600 million worldwide. Je-sus Christ. And it’s probably got three weeks left on the top ten here.

John Tucker Must Die, which I know nothing about except Betty Thomas directed it, was the #2 performer on a per-cinema basis, so rock on with their bad selves and…hey, look at that, with only $18 million invested, they’ll be making profit real soon. What a concept.

Monster House dropped 48% in its second weekend, but it’s got to be feeling better about itself than Ant Bully. Did anyone think that film looked like a good idea? Hey, I know…let’s revisit ants for a third CGI movie! Please.

Dupree dropped and is out on its way out, no doubt due to the outcry of Steely Dan fans. Kidding. But still, it will need to make its money back on video. Again, this is Kate Hudson. What is wrong with you people?

Lady in the Water is sinking like a stone. I had no idea until just this past week that Night cast himself as the most important writer in the world or some such nonsense. Good grief. I would never have cast Night as anything other than “The Writer Who Botched the Ending of Unbreakable.” WTF.

Hey, let’s take a moment to consider: the three biggest mistakes in the top eleven films this weekend…were all from Warner Brothers. Gotta suck to work over there this summer.

The terrifying Little Man isn’t making money yet, but it’ll be one of those “Well, we’ve watching everything else in the video store, let’s grab that,” or as many of my friends these days would term it, “I can’t help it–it was in my NetFlix queue and it showed up. I felt compelled to watch it.” So.

Devil Wears Prada, the best scheduling job of the summer, prepares to exit the Top Ten and more power to them. If they’re smart, they’ll do a really sweet special edition on DVD to nab more coin.

And Clerks 2 is ready to leave the Top Ten as well, but it does so with its head held high: it’s already quite profitable and I’m sure it will have a video shelf life like nobody’s business.

Join us next time for when we’ll see if Will Ferrell will be laughing all the way to the bank as I suspect he will.

Special thanks to Exit Mindbomb for letting me use “Godzilla Will Rule You” from their album Happy Accident for my new WGO music. Check them out on MySpace here and I tried to link up as many songs as I could here.

Widgett Walls is the chief cook and bottle washer for Needcoffee.com. He’s also the author of Mystics on the Road to Vanishing Point and Magnificent Desolation. His personal blog is at OneTusk.com, which he updates when he feels like it. He lives and works in Atlanta, Georgia. He hardly ever sleeps.

Take Me Home Blog #3 – The Sad Burden of Good People

Filed under: Production Blogs,Take Me Home Blog — UncaScroogeMcD @ 3:45 am

 

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“You’re such a good boy, Sam. Such a smart boy.” My mother said this to me once. I was 27. No, I’m not kidding. And she meant it. And who am I to tell her any different? What, disappoint the woman who birthed me?! No, sir! I’d rather stick a red-hot javelin up my ass than let that woman down (six?). And yet, here I am, 29 and consumed by “goodness”. My struggle, nay, my greatest challenge as a first-time director is not going to be setting up shots or retaining the overall scope of the film, etc.. No, sir. My struggle is with THE UNBEARABLE URGE TO BE “GOOD”. 

sammysuppertimesm.jpgI hold doors for people. People half a mile away from the building. It’s cool. I’ll wait. I’ll hold that door so long they have to do a little “jog” up so as not to make me wait any longer. Nothing could sway me from this display of chivalry. My slacks could be on fire. I’d wait. I wait so well, people feel like jerks for not having sprinted to the door. And that’s when I know I’m “good”: when my goodness makes people feel bad. But that’s cool. I swear that’s as close as I get to “bad”. I’ll venture over to the Dark Side ever once in a while. But, hot damn, wouldn’t it be awesome to be full-on “bad”. Why? Because:

THE BAD SEEDS HAVE IT LUCKY. When you’re a bad seed, nobody expects much of you. You can trash-talk, you can put your dirty shoes on the coffee table, you can ruin the vibe at a good party. People are ready for it. They say, “Well, you know how (bad seed’s name) is. We’re just lucky he doesn’t throw a flaming pile of crap at our door.”

No doubt, you Bad Seeds have it good. What’s more, because you’ve set the bar SO low, people are blown away with even the slightest attitude shift; you say “gesundheit” and they’re ready to name a childrens’ library after you. But not the “good people”. Heck no. Why? Because…

GOOD PEOPLE SUCK IN A BIG WAY. They only want your happiness. If you’re happy, they’re happy. They’re happy, in case you were wondering, because your not getting pissed at them. They get to avoid disagreements. AND YET, whenever I choose to avoid confrontation, it always, ALWAYS comes back to haunt me (and, man, I’m good at avoiding; I’ve gone to court several times for unpaid parking tickets. What happened?! Did I lose them? Did I forget about them? No. I simply pretended they didn’t exist… until they towed my car off. THEN they magically appeared.).

Case in point: this week, I realized I may have to replace a key crew member. Mostly because of scheduling concerns. He’s more than just a crew member, though. This guy’s one of my closest friends. I would stab people in the eye for this man. THAT close.
So we met for lunch. We talked about our “ladyfriends”. I blabbed on about weekend plans. I unpeeled the ketchup label on the counter. And then, when the conversation turned to work, I did as all “good people” do: I chickened out.

Brave Sir Robin Ran Away! Bravely Ran Away, Away!

I hemmed and hawed, I gazed out the window. I began listing all the other options except the one we both knew was inevitable; this guy was going to have to leave his post. One of my best friends. And I couldn’t even say, flat out, “this sucks, man. But the best thing for this film is that we part ways and promise to make another film somewhere down the line.” That’s the sensible thing. But NOOOOOOO. Instead, I remained entirely indirect; not the best trait for a “director”, wouldn’t you say?

GOODNESS IS A HARD HABIT TO BREAK, but I think it’s necessary for our film to survive. I’ve got to be able to set my “goodness” aside and DO MY JOB.

Honestly, If I’m clear about what the film needs, what the story needs, the urge to be good can take a back seat. My job is to serve the film in the best way possible. Not the filmmakers. And in the end if the film’s good, they’ll forgive me for venturing over to the Dark Side every once in a while.

“People are simply incapable of prolonged, sustained goodness.”
-Diane Frolov

 

-Sam Jaeger

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July 28, 2006

Noctural Admissions: DVD, A Canterbury Tale, The Tales of Hoffman

Filed under: Nocturnal Admissions — UncaScroogeMcD @ 5:21 pm

 

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Canterbury box

 

I wonder if Philip Larkin saw  A Canterbury Tale as a youth. He would have been 22 when the film came out. In one of his most famous poems, “The Whitsun Weddings,” he describes the English countryside, as seen from a train, as “postal districts packed like squares of wheat.” And there, in the film’s first few minutes is a landscape shot of Kent, near Canterbury, its fields,  mutatis mutandis,  as Larkin describes them. The film’s opening narration is in the form of rhymed couplets sounding not unlike Larkin, and is read by Esmond Knight in a tone of exaltation that Larkin himself recommended for the reading “The Whitsun Weddings.”

A Canterbury Tale (1944) also evinces some of the bedrock English characteristics which Larkin’s poetry is famous for celebrating. Pluck, generosity, a sense of “getting on with it” in the face of difficulties, an openess to strangers, and a silently held melancholy about one’s state in life. Larkin, on the other hand, could drepress the hell out of you with his meditations on a Godless death.  A Canterbury Tale‘s ostensible project is to “support the war effort” and foster better British – American relations as it tells a modern Canterbury tale in which three travelers at the height of hte war come together in the village of Chillingbourne to solve a puzzle.

The travelers are Alison Smith (Sheila Sim, in a role originally slated to Deborah Kerr), a “widow” who has gone to country to become a Land Girl, Peter Gibbs (Dennis Price, of  Kind Hearts and Coronets), a sergeant in the British army based not far from Chillingbourne, where they are practicing maneuvers for D-Day, and sergeant Bob Johnson (John Sweet, an amateur whom Powell spotted in a production of  Our Town, and who returned to teaching after the war), an American on his way to Canterbury to meet his buddy and see the church. Their first night in Chillingbourne results in Allison being doused by the nefarious Glue Man, who targets women out in the street at night with or near soldiers. The next day the three resolve to solve the crime which the local constabulary seems hesitant or unable to solve.

Each of the three travelers has a flaw or secret wish. Allison believes that she is a widow, that her husband, a pilot, was shot down by the Germans. Their “caravan,” or camper, is stored in Canterbury, and part of her reason for volunteering as a Land Girl was to seek out the camper for sentimental reasons. Johnson, from Johnson County, Oregon, is distraught because his girl has stopped writing to him. Gibbs, who tickles the ivories in a movie theater, always wanted to be a church organist.

It’s difficult to describe the unsettling nature of this film, both cozy and tense at the same time. From its famous cut between a medieval hawk returning to its master to a contemporary British fighter plane in the same sky, indeed the same spot, a cut so reminiscent, as many others have pointed out, of Kubrick’s similar trick in  2001, to the gentle almost non-verbal resolution to the three main characters woes, it is a magical film. The magician at the center of this magic is Thomas Colpeper, JP (Eric Portman, in a role that Roger Livesey turned down). A judge, a gentleman farmer, an archeologist of the local landscape, he has a mystical relationship with the land, and seems to touch people’s lives like a Jesus of Canterbury, drawing people out and turning their instinctive hate into respect. He also almost always appears suddenly, out of no where. Yet he starts out seeming like a homosexual woman-hater who may well be the notorious Glue Man.

The Glue Man plot engine is the most perplexing part of the movie, in that it’s such an odd crime. But it was worse originally, with the Glue Man something like a Canterbury Slasher. It is also very “English,” or at least English movie, for the three new fast friends to drop everything and try to solve the mystery.

 

The magic of Canterbury

 

Not all the magic resides within Colpeper. There is a marvelous sequence where Allison and Bob run into each other at the wheelwright’s shop. Since Bob is from Oregon, famous for its forestry, he soon gets on well with the wheelwright, talking wood density and harvesting timing. The wheelwright invites Bob back for lunch and he takes him up on it, but we never see the actual meal, though it is referred to later in dialogue. It’s very touching and delicate the way Powell takes the viewer through different attitudes to arrive at a state of mutual respect. The only analog I can think of in contemporary films is certain scenes in David Lynch’s  The Straight Story, which captures a similar egalitarianism. Another deeply moving moment is when Allison, in close up, hears the “sounds” of medieval Canterbury, and looks like Ingrid Bergman as her hair whips around her. One difference, however, is that there is a pronounced sexual tension throughout the movie, from the unexpressed, or even unacknowledged interest some of the characters have for each other, and the integration of people with “alternative” sexualities into the war effort.

I was so enthralled with the magic of A Canterbury Tale that I watched it three times, putting me even further behind in my DVD reviewing. The Criterion Collection’s two-disc offering, disc No. 341,  gives us a transfer of the 1977 125 minute restoration of the black and white film in a full frame windowboxed transfer.

 

Canterbury American

 

Extras on Disc One include an audio commentary by Ian Christie, who is a longtime Powell scholar and who contributed an essay on  Canterbury Tale to the excellent anthology  The Cinema of Michael Powell, edited by Christie and Andrew Moor and published by the BFI. Also on disc one is a small compilation of the American segments made for the shorter US release, featuring Kim Hunter as Mrs. Bob Johnson.

John Sweet today

 

Disc two has a modest array of very informative supplements. There is a new video interview with Sim (Mrs. Richard Attenborough) who provides some affectionate anecdotes. This is followed by “John Sweet: A Pilgrim’s Journey,” made when Sweet returned to Canterbury in 2000 for a special event. It is interesting to hear his comments on “stardom.” “A Canterbury Trail” is a video record of a walking tour of the film’s sets conducted occasionally by historian Paul Tritton and Powell and Pressburger fan Steve Crook. Finally there  is “Listening to Britain,” a piece of installation by one Victor Burgin that blends images from this film and Humphrey Jenning’s quasi-documentary “Listen to Britain.” The installation piece is a seven minute loop, and the disc also offers Jenning’s film as a counterbalance. There’s also a 24-page  booklet with cast and crew, chapter titles, transfer info, and essays by Fraham Fuller, and Peter von Bagh, with diary entries made by Sweet at the time of filming.  A Canterbury Tale hit the street on Tuesday, July 25 retailing for $39.95.

Tales of Hoffman box

 

Late in 2005, Criterion also released another Powell and Pressburger “tale,” their adaptation of the opera  The Tales of Hoffman. Released in 1951, is a colorful account of the Jacques Offenbach’s opera adapting three supernatural love tales by E.T.A. Hoffman. Metropolitan opera star  Robert Rounseville is Hoffman, telling the tales in a tavern while Stella (Moria Shearer) finishes up a ballet performance on stage nearby. Hoffman’s nemesis is Councilman Lindorff (Robert Helpmann), who also loves, or at least wants, Stella. It is a very visual film, but the interpretation of the music is a tad on the slow side (or at least so my opera buff experts tell me), and though the visual style has invoked references to Jean Cocteau, to me it feels Disney. Still, I’d rather have this disc than any of the hundred others that came out that day.

Tales of Hoffman

 

The Criterion Collection’s edition, spine No. 317, is a vivid full frame transfer marred only occasionally by some of the peculiarities of the Technicolor process. Supplements for this disc are unusual. This is the 127 minute version of the movie; supposedly there is an 138 minute original that is lost. There is an  audio commentary with both director Martin Scorsese, a Powell enthusiast,  and music historian Bruce Eder, and there is also an 18-minute interview with George A. Romero, who turns out also to be a longtime fan of the film. Also on hand is “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” (1956), a short musical film directed by Powell, based on the Goethe story, a gallery of production sketches by production designer Hein Heckroth, a stills galleries, and the theatrical trailer. Finally, there is a 12-page insert with cast and crew, chapter titles, transfer info, and an essay by the always informative Christie.  The Tales of Hoffman retails for $39.95 and hit the street on Tuesday, November 22, 2005.

 

Sorcerer

Addicted to Bad: Dire Strait

Filed under: Addicted to Bad — UncaScroogeMcD @ 5:18 pm
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No question about it, George Strait is country. The man eats pickup trucks, breathes cattle drivin’, and sleeps dusty boots. And when he dreams, he dreams of belt buckles. Great big belt buckles, bigger ‘n the sky, because real cowboys don’t have the time to muss around with tiny belt prongs and itty-bitty holes, darnit! There’re cattle rustlers afoot, and sticks to whittle! At any moment, someone could start doing the Cactus Cha-Cha, and by God, his belt… Must. Be. Ready.And that, my friends, is why George gets to call his movie PURE COUNTRY. Not “Sorta Country” or “88.5% Country and 11.5% Country By-Product.” No! This is pure, uncut country, man! Industrial-grade country! Do you have any idea what the street value of this movie is?!

Pure Country PosterIn PURE COUNTRY, country music megastar George Strait plays country music megastar Dusty Chandler, who is definitely not George Strait because he has a ponytail. Also, “Dusty” is written everywhere, even on his clothes, as a friendly reminder that he is Dusty, not George. Which is good, because George definitely looks like he could suddenly forget and slip back into George at any moment. And then, how would viewers know who he was? Thank goodness the filmmakers took this valuable and potentially life-saving precaution.

Every night Not George gets on stage in his trademark rhinestone-studded, white “Dusty” cowboy suit with his 12-piece band and his pyrotechnics and lighting rigs, and he sings irony-free songs about being modest and hard-working out in the country for thousands of middle-aged suburban moms with enormous, aerodynamically unsound bangs. If you thought that dressing up like a freak and performing for scores of women each night would make Not George happy (hey, it worked for Wilt Chamberlain), you would be wrong: Not George would much rather be doing the things he sings about; or, at the very least, he would rather sing about them in a slightly less fruity manner.

jacketHis manager/girlfriend, however, will have none of it. Dusty is just giving the people what they want: Men in awful, awful clothes who sing while things blow up, apparently. And she’s right: Take a poll of the average American, and watching fashion-challenged men sing during explosions ranks just above kickboxing but below home videos of testicle trauma. But Not George knows that his shows have not been Pure Country, but rather Artificial Country Substitute, and he will have none of it. He storms off the tour and heads back to the Heartlandâ„¢ where he promptly gets drunk, picks up a bar skank, gets in a fight, oversleeps, and misses work. Yep, that’s pure country all right.

The next day, he wakes up on the bar skank’s ranch, and as he and her leathery father watch her milk a horse, he realizes that she is the bar skank that he wants to spend the rest of the movie with. But what about his career as a rich country star, beloved by bar skanks everywhere? Well, back on the tour, Dusty has been replaced by the absolute dumbest guy on the road crew, and no one seems to have noticed, so everyone’s happy.Unfortunately, however, the skank of his dreams is about to lose her ranch unless she can win first prize at the big rodeo. Not George, being a multimillionaire country star and all, gives her $50 to give him some riding lessons, which is much better than giving her a non-useless amount that could, you know, save her farm. They live cheaply ever after, until his evil manager/girlfriend shows up and tells the skank that Not George actually has boatloads of money. So she does the only logical thing to do: Break up with him. The end….

pict165.jpgNo, of course not. Instead, it all builds to a suspenseful climax (if, that is, you find being bored and annoyed suspenseful) in Las Vegas, because that’s where country singers go to “get back to their roots,” I guess. It’s there that Not George will unveil his new, even purer show. And I know what you’re thinking: How is it possible to make something so pure even purer? I don’t know, but he found a way, and he did it without changing one single thing about the old show.

Wow. If they gave Nobel Prizes for Country, surely George Strait would win, because he just blew our minds, man.

ATB Update: Since the release of PURE COUNTRY in 1992, Not Dusty has chosen to focus on not acting, only he’s no longer letting people film it. Which is a shame, for the world is currently at an all-time “explosions near badly dressed singer” low. In spite of continued war, famine, and natural disasters, and pleas from world leaders, there are currently no plans for a PURE COUNTRY II: PURE HARDER.

Scrubs Blog: Your Friday Commentary

Filed under: Production Blogs,Quickcast Commentaries,Quickcasts,Scrubs Blog — UncaScroogeMcD @ 3:20 am

 

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It may be summer hiatus, but we roll out the next in a series of exclusive episode commentaries to hold you over the long wait for Season 6″¦

BLOG-COMMENTARY #8: Episode 5×20 – “My Lunch” –
John C. McGinley and editor John Michel drop a commentary, just for you. All you have to do is download the mp3 file below, cue up the episode on your TIVO, VHS, DVD, or computer, then hit play on the commentary (or you can download the free Sharecrow DVD player, which allows you to sync up commentaries on your computer). Hope you dig it”¦

DOWNLOAD:
mp3 Format (21 MB)

 

 

Weekend Shopping Guide 7/28/06: The Electric Slide

Filed under: Shopping Guides — UncaScroogeMcD @ 3:15 am

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The weekend’s here. You’ve just been paid, and it’s burning a hole in your pocket. What’s a pop culture geek to do? In hopes of steering you in the right direction to blow some of that hard-earned cash, it’s time for the Quick Stop Weekend Shopping Guide – your spotlight on the things you didn’t even know you wanted…

In all the madness that was Comic-Con 2006, I plum forgot to put up last week’s shopping guide – THAT, my friends, is just how insane San Diego’s annual geekfest has become. So here, now, is 2 weeks worth of stuff…

Before the legendary film and wonderful TV series, Paul Reubens first introduced the world to Pee-Wee Herman via the HBO special The Pee-Wee Herman Show (Image, Not Rated, DVD-$14.99 SRP), an absolutely hilarious document of the live show originated at Hollywood’s Groundlings Theater in 1981. Puppets, music, cartoons, colorful characters and more were the order of the day, in an homage to the classic kiddie shows of the 50’s and 60’s. Center stage, though, was Reubens as Pee-Wee, a whirling dervish of a man-child whose infectious enthusiasm for the world he inhabits sucks the audience in hook, line, and sinker.

It’s no Brisco County, Jr., but Bruce Campbell still shines in the all-too-brief run of Jack of All Trades (Universal, Not Rated, DVD-$39.98 SRP), as a Zorro-esque American Spy named Jack Stiles who is sent to the tiny East Indies island of Palau Palau by Thomas Jefferson and must work to thwart the advances of Napoleon’s France in that region of the world. Teamed with a local British agent and inventor, Emilia Rothschild, Jack occasionally dons the garb of the masked Daring Dragoon to aid in the fight against America’s enemies. The 3-disc set features all 22 episodes, but sadly no extras.

Reno’s finest return for the complete third season of Reno 911! (Paramount, Not Rated, DVD-$26.99 SRP), which finds our favorite deputies released from prison after being framed by the corrupt Reno D.A., and briefly dumped into civilian life. Back in uniform, there’s an awkward appearance on a kiddie show, a SARS scare, a new Hummer, a new deputy, and more. Bonus features include over an hour of outtakes, action figure promos, audio commentaries, and even some easter eggs.

It’s been a long, long, LONG wait for the Steven Spielberg-produced Warner Bros. cartoons to hit DVD, and while Tiny Toons is still MIA, fans will be eagerly snapping up the first volumes of both Animaniacs and Pinky and The Brain (Warner Bros., Not Rated, DVD-$44.98 SRP each). The 5-disc Animaniacs set features the show’s first 25 episodes, plus voice artist Maurice LaMarche interviewing his fellow castmates in the bonus feature Animaniacs Live!. Meanwhile, Pinky and The Brain advance their plans to take over the world with 4-discs and 22 episodes, plus an interview with Rob Paulsen and Maurice LaMarche (Pinky & The Brain) and voice director Andrea Romano. Must have more!

If you were to infuse the touchy-feely, golden-hued “embrace me!”-ness of Steven Spielberg into the sci-fi/fantasy anthology structure of The Twilight Zone (you know, soften all the edges) you’d get Amazing Stories (Universal, Not Rated, DVD-$49.98 SRP). Packed with stars both established and nascent (including Kevin Costner, Tim Robbins, John Lithgow, Charlie Sheen, and Kiefer Sutherland) and helmed by directors like Joe Dante, Robert Zemeckis, and Spielberg himself, it was a mid-80’s experiment that ultimately proved too expensive for television. The 4-disc first season set features all 24 episodes, plus deleted scenes.

Warner’s aptly named Tough Guys Collection (Warner Bros., Not Rated, DVD-$59.98 SRP) features 6 hard-boiled flicks from the studio’s golden era, starring the likes of Cagney, Robinson, Raft, and O’Brien. The films in question are Bullets Or Ballots, Each Dawn I Die, G Men, San Quentin, A Slight Case Of Murder, and City For Conquest. Besides being newly remastered, the set is also loaded with commentaries, vintage newsreels and featurettes, cartoons, and much more.

There are only so many ways to document a live concert experience on film. Leave it to the Beastie Boys (Michael Diamond, Adam Yauch, and Adam Horovitz) to reinvent the hoary genre, distributing 50 DV and Hi-8 cameras to fans and letting them document the Boys’ October 2004 concert in Madison Square Garden as they saw fit. Painstakingly edited together by Yauch, Awesome, I Shot That! (Velocity/Thinkfilm, Rated R, DVD-$29.99 SRP) is a thrilling, altogether new way to take in an event, infused with the energy of fandom and supported by a band who truly gets that the future is about empowering the audience. The DVD features a band commentary, a cappella vocal tracks, a “hidden detours” featurette, world tour intros and shout-outs, and much more.

You’re not going to get a more definitive document of the production and legacy of John Carpenter’s legendary horror flick than Halloween: 25 Years of Terror (Anchor Bay, Not Rated, DVD-$19.98 SRP). The 2-disc set features the in-depth documentary itself, plus panel discussions, galleries, a tour of the filming locations, extended interviews, on-dept footage, and more. Also hitting disc in remastered “Divimax” editions are Halloween 4 and 5 (Anchor Bay, Rated R, DVD-$19.95 SRP each).

I’m a big fan of the recent trend (gaining momentum at numerous studios) of getting plenty of relatively niche catalogue titles out fast and easy via themed box-sets. Case in point is the first volume of the Will Rogers Collection (Fox, Not Rated, DVD-$59.98 SRP), featuring a quartet of the legendary wits feature films, including Life Begins At 40, In Old Kentucky, Doubting Thomas, and Steamboat ‘Round The Bend. What could have been simple bare-bones releases instead sport audio commentaries, restoration comparisons, Fox Movietone news footage of Rogers, and the A&E Biography “Will Rogers: An American Original.”

Trek fans will be pleased to know that Titan Books has begun collecting the long out-of-print late-80’s comic book adventures of the crew of the Starship Enterprise, featuring the crew of both Kirk and Picard. The latest volume of the original Star Trek collects Peter David’s The Trial of James T. Kirk (Titan Books, $19.95 SRP), while The Next Generation contains Michael Jan Friedman’s The Battle Within (Titan Books, $19.95 SRP). Even better, all the Trek releases feature interviews with castmembers.

I love it when one of those often-bastardized childhood mainstays finally gets its proper treatment on DVD, and I’m happy to add the first volume of the newly remastered, completely uncut Ultraman (BCI, Not Rated, DVD-$39.98 SRP) to that list. The 3-disc Series 1: Volume 1 features the first 20 episodes in their original form, plus interviews with the English dub team (who also voiced the original Speed Racer, a monster encyclopedia, the U.S. opening credits, and an 8-page booklet.

They’ve released the pilot and a best-of cross-section in the past, but Universal finally decides to do it right and begin releasing season sets of the original Incredible Hulk series, starring Bill Bixby as Dr. David Banner and Lou Ferrigno as his green-skinned, purple-pantsed alter-ego. The complete first season (Universal, Not Rated, DVD-$39.98 SRP) features all 12 episodes (including the 2-hour pilot film, with commentary from writer/director/producer Kenneth Johnson), plus a bonus episode from season 2 (“Stop the Presses”).

Okay, I can understand giving Road House (MGM/UA, Not Rated, DVD-$19.94 SRP) the special edition treatment – Crow T. Robot was right in his assessment that the Patrick Swayze as consummate bar bouncer flick was cinema gold, and busting kneecaps if bastards ever touch a person’s car is legitimate wisdom to live by. The new edition features an audio commentary from director Rowdy Herrington, “On the Road House” featurette, “What Would Dalton Do?” documentary, and a pretty damn funny “fan” commentary from Kevin Smith and Scott Mosier.

However, I can’t understand the purpose of Road House 2 (MGM/UA, Rated R, DVD-$24.96 SRP), which stars Jonathan Schaech as an undercover DEA agent and… oh, who cares? It does, however, feature Jake Busey, who is morphing ever more into the spitting image of his father, sans the legitimate crazy.

It’s always unfortunate when a browse through a film’s “Art Of” book reveals designs and concepts far better than those that finally wound up on screen. An excellent case in point is The Art of Superman Returns (Chronicle Books, $40.00 SRP), a nicely illustrated book loaded with artwork far more engaging than what we got in the film itself, not the least of which was Superman’s costume. If you don’t believe me, pick up a copy of this handsome volume and see for yourself.

It’s taken a few years and a few tries, but we’ve finally gotten a definitive special edition release of Some Like It Hot (MGM/UA, Not Rated, DVD-$24.96 SRP). Looking and sounding pretty damn spiffy, it’s also packed with a new audio commentary (with both Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon), a pair of newly-produced documentaries, retrospective featurettes, a pressbook gallery, and the original theatrical trailer.

The improvisational comedy Blackballed: The Bobby Dukes Story (Shout! Factory, Not Rated, DVD-$19.98 SRP) is the story of Bobby Dukes (Rob Corddry), a one-time Paintball hero who becomes a pariah when he cheats during a championship competition (he wiped the paint off and continued playing). Gone for years, he returns a changed man bent on assembling a team and reclaiming his lost honor. Bonus features include both cast and filmmaker commentaries, outtakes, deleted scenes, and Bobby Dukes’s video diary.

Before movie stardom beckoned, Clint Eastwood was Rowdy Yates in Rawhide (Paramount, Not Rated, DVD-$49.99 SRP), the classic Western series making its long-awaited arrival on DVD. The 7-disc set features all 22 episodes, plus a bonus episode from Season 2.

I know, in the rational part of my brain, that I really shouldn’t like Benchwarmers (Sony, Rated PG-13, DVD-$28.95 SRP). In fact, I should think it’s a tacky trifle of a lightweight comedy. Unfortunately, its underdog story of a trio of grown-up losers (Rob Schneider, David Spade, and Jon Heder) who form a 3-man Little Legue team in order reclaim the pride they never had as bullied nerds when they were kids. It’s a slapstick comedy with the same kind of Bad News Bears meets Dodgeball meets Revenge of the Nerds] meets Baseketball heart that always sucker-punches the little logic man in my head. The DVD features audio commentaries, deleted scenes, behind-the-scenes featurettes, and more.

I don’t know how it happened, but creator Aaron McGruder managed to turn his funny, socially-relevant strip The Boondocks into an airless, unfunny cartoon on Cartoon Network’s Adult Swim block. If you don’t believe me, just try and sit through the 15 episodes contained in the complete first season set (Sony, Not Rated, DVD-$49.95 SRP). It’s unfortunate, because I really dig the strip… I just wish its spirit had survived the adaptation. Bonus features include audio & video commentaries, a behind-the-scenes featurette, deleted scenes, animatics, unaired promos, and storyboards.

With nothing but survival on his mind and living on the societal fringe in Johannesburg, a young man named Tsotsi (Miramax, Rated R, DVD-$29.95 SRP) steals a car in the night. In the backseat, however, he finds a baby that may very well be the key to his redemption and the key to a better life. Intense and captivating, it’s a drama I won’t soon forget. The DVD features an audio commentary with writer/director Gavin Hood, deleted scenes and an alternate ending with optional commentary, a making-of featurette, and Hood’s short film The Storekeeper.

Leave it to VH1 to assemble collections tying into their “We Are The 80’s” branding (Sony Legacy, $11.98 SRP each) that strike all the right (yet so wrong) guilty pleasures. The artists getting releases in the initial batch are Loverboy, Eddie Money, the Bangles, Scandal, A Flock of Seagulls, Bow Wow Wow, and Rick Springfield. How sad is it that you are, at the very least, intrigued by what tracks are on each disc?

There are some things that are lost but are treasured when found, and then there are some things that deserve to be lost. In the latter category falls the increasingly mediocre John Kricfalusi’s attempt to resurrect Ren & Stimpy as an “Adult Party Cartoon” – unfortunately, most of the “adult” humor falls into the scatological and sexual category. The 2-disc Ren & Stimpy: The Lost Episodes (Paramount, Not Rated, DVD-$26.99 SRP) contains the complete Spike TV run, plus interviews and episode intros.

I first saw the now iconic multiple personality drama Sybil (Warner Bros., Not Rated, DVD-$24.98 SRP) – based on a true story and starring Sally Field as the titular woman whose life is shattered into multiple pieces as a result of a tortured childhood – in my high school psychology class. The story is just as powerful today, if only for Field’s memorable performance. The new collector’s edition features a retrospective documentary, a Sybil therapy session, and Sybil’s paintings.

Amanda Bynes flirts with Just One of the Boys and Ladybugs territory in She’s The Man (Dreamworks, Rated PG-13, DVD-$29.95 SRP), with a mad plan to get on the high school boys’ soccer team by dressing up as her twin brother Sebastian. And then she proceeds to not only win the big game as Sebastian, but fall in love with the star forward. Oh, the shenanigans that ensue!. The DVD features an audio commentary, deleted scenes, a making-of featurette, a gag reel, a music video, and more.

At least Warner Bros. is relatively upfront that their Television Favorites collections (Warner Bros., Not Rated, DVD-$9.98 SRP each) – a bargain-priced disc featuring a handful of episodes from a given series – is a way of testing whether demand exists for seasonal releases of the series featured. The latest shows to get their shot at the brass ring are the TGIF standby Step By Step and the Linda Lavin classic Alice. Go vote with your wallets, people!

And finally, let’s wrap things up with a look at the latest Pirates of the Caribbean booty you can lay your grubby mitts on, courtesy of the fine folks at Master Replicas. Not only can you still get Elizabeth Swann’s cursed necklace ($15.00 SRP), but also Jack Sparrow’s ring ($15.00 SRP) and Davy Jones’ key ($15.00 SRP). Arrrrrrrrrrr…

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So there you have it… my humble suggestions for what to watch, listen to, play with, or waste money on this coming weekend. See ya next week…

Trailer Park: High Five…

Filed under: Trailer Park — admin @ 3:10 am

By Christopher Stipp

Archives? Right Here…

It was a testament to how bad I needed to see this movie.

When I reviewed the trailer for BORAT last week the day the review went live I was in sweating in San Diego at the Comic-Con, sitting in the sprawling, and overly expansive, hall H. The SNAKES ON A PLANE roundtable interviews had just let out just a few minutes prior and on my way into the heart of geek darkness that held so many thousands of us to see what 20th Century Fox was going to be offering in the coming months I was handed a button. It was a large button that had a picture on it: Sacha Baren Cohen, as Borat, holding a small American flag. I was caught unaware and completely forgot that BORAT was a film that Fox was distributing but it was a nearly instantaneous knee-jerk reaction to the reception of the button as I asked whether, at 2:03 p.m., the panel that began at 12:45 and was only supposed to run until 2:15 had made any mention of the man who I’ve come to know through Da Ali G Show. It was the nicest “No” I was going to hear all weekend. Further, it was kismet, and almost felt like everyone was waiting for me to arrive, that when I took my seat the moderator of the studio’s panel started in about Sacha.

The space erupted in cheers as he was introduced to the stage. When he ended up emerging from the ladies bathroom, and not from the hermetically sealed backstage that kept the steerage well away from the talent, in full character, donning his trademark suit, thick moustache and awkward smile, the masses ate up this bread and circus. His exaggerated attempts to take the stage, pratfalls and all, amused those entertained by such a thing but it wasn’t until Sacha gave his thumbs up and introduced two clips from the film that he really had a well-deserved stranglehold on the audience.

The clips contained such outrageous content and triggered an inordinate amount of howls and laughs from those assembled to witness an ample amount of male nudity that when the lights came up it was already a given this was a movie that needed to be seen to be believed. The moderator satiated that need quick enough by declaring that anyone, anyone at all, who wanted to see the movie had to do nothing more than make their way out of the panel, up to the crosswalks of the convention hall’s front door, cross an already congested strip of traffic, make their way over a pair of trolley tracks, wade their way through an already thick sea of humanity moving in the opposite direction, get to Borat’s “ice cream truck” and claim their free pass to see the movie that night.

Without straying into hyperbole it was honestly a Running of the Nerds moment that rivaled anything Pamplona has ever witnessed, or take credit for, in their streets. Geeks made a break for it in every which direction. The smell of a free movie ticket drove some of these socially addled gimps to feats of bravery as they tried to jaywalk or employ any other means to get around the automotive and human traffic that stood in their way of getting into this screening. There was yelling, scurrying, jumping, pushing, evading, sliding and diving, twisting and turning of dozens. It was scary, dangerous to be sure, hilarious to have been able to behold and completely out-of-control.

I was right there with them.

Thanks to whatever exercise plan I’ve been keeping to the past 13 years I was able to best most of the competition that was half my age but here I was, an adult of 31 years, participating in a free-for-all that I should have known better to even try or even cared about.

“Well, if I’m not on a list or formally invited there is no way I’m debasing myself like some chimp,” I should’ve thought.

But I didn’t care. I wanted and got a ticket and I was going to see this film. I am ultimately glad I did and have explained the initial way I came into seeing this movie as I have because I can categorically state that BORAT was, without question, a movie that has finally, after all these years since STRANGE BREW, defined what it takes to keep me laughing for the entire length of a filmic production.

To state it more succinctly, BORAT is one of the best comedies to have been made in the past few years. It is completely offensive in every way possible, it uses race and ethnicity to further humor that no one has ever dared try to get away with in an amusing context and it is completely unique beast that finally can call itself art; there is no way you can look at this film and not feel completely attached to its aims or diabolically opposed to how it executes its vision. Films don’t posses this kind of edge anymore, before edgy became a catch-all for mediocrity disguised a few ribald bon mots here or there, and its charms took me completely and satisfyingly. Sure, you can sit through this movie and not find a single thing worth laughing at on the screen; that’s just the nature of comedy. But, any person who opens themselves up, and gives themselves into, Borat’s world, his donat, can see that this is a movie worth every gypsy dollar when it emerges in November.

What was especially telling about the movie’s potential as a full-length vehicle was evident in that the movie opens just as the trailer did. The mere fact that the trailer was a solid sell to an audience as an amusing ad was an accomplishment but the opening sequences, extended even further, honestly set the tone and pace for the rest of the film. Just as the opening sequences established the crux and flow of the film evem before we were 10 minutes into the movie is a testament to BORAT’s rapid fire storytelling; you get in, establish only what you need to, cut out any extraneous exposition, get on with whatever gag you initially had in mind for the scene, and get the hell out. You could feel the expediency and you are thankful for it.

This film is ambitious because you can sense that this is a movie where you weren’t going to linger in any one place, something that hampers a lot of comedies in modern cinema. In a television show you are not afforded the luxury of meandering or winding your way to a limp punchline. BORAT understands this notion from the word “Go” and doesn’t relent. Perhaps one of the best examples of keeping immediacy with the audience’s attention spans, or lack of one, is when Sacha explains what it is that he enjoys about his village. The visual gags of “disco dancing” represented with a circle of grown men in the daylight hours, outside, and in full dress is still as funny as it was in the trailer. The other activities represented are also just as effective at setting a comedic tone. Nothing, however, could compare anyone to being introduced to an event that’s quite popular with the people he lives with in Kazakhstan: The Running of the Jew. Apart from knowing what’s coming as soon as this event is uttered, a throng of Borat’s countrymen blazing a trail as quickly as possible, what could prepare someone for the visual representation of a grotesquely oversized head, colored green, hideously shapen in a way that looks like a stand-in for the Green Goblin’s next appearance on film, donning stereotypical accoutrements of Borat’s natural born enemies? Nothing. Absolutely nothing and as you’re wiping the tears from your face, the scene pushing things even further with the inclusion of the town’s children doing something so heinous I am almost at a loss to describe it, you’re simultaneously ashamed at yourself for going along with it but you have to congratulate Sacha for executing an idea that he found intrinsically amusing, no matter how some would initially react to it, hoping we would too.

And the audience loved it.

By the third or fourth time when you find yourself reacting to some of the events on the screen getting that, apart from the wafer thin conceit about Borat’s escapades across America to get to Pamela Anderson, one has to give credit to Sacha for being able to carry this one-dimensional character for the entire length of the movie without it ever seeming tedious. Borat’s initial encounters with people who believe they are trying to teach him new and exciting activities to bring back to his homeland works as well here as it did on the television show. When Borat wants to buy a car that is a real “pussy magnet,” as he’s come to hear the idiomatic expression, the salesperson that helps him, or tires to, reveals that small amount of honesty that most people wouldn’t imagine ever revealing in front of a large audience; it’s the ability to get at people’s openness, and to push hard when need be on someone’s sense of decorum, that takes BORAT a level above just being a spin-off from a television show.

The oft discussed rodeo moment, one where Borat does his best to get a crowd on his side completely and then, just as quickly, gets them completely repulsed in a manner of moments is amusing but it’s really the conversation he has with a gentleman beforehand that’s really telling and should have garnerned more attention. When telling Borat of the things he should do in order to blend in with other Americans, commenting that he should shave his black moustache so he doesn’t look like the kind of guy who Americans are fighting in Iraq, was fairly interesting but when this older gentleman lets his unfounded concerns about the amount of explosives Borat could be mistaken for carrying on his person should be decide to keep the facial hair simply confirms what many of us in this country already should know: we’re a nation that’s kind of comfortable with our deep-seeded prejudices and don’t really care sharing them when we think no one’s listening. And just when you think you’ve seen it all you get man on man nude wrestling in a hotel room with Borat getting a tea bagging in the process.

There has been the criticism, by one reviewer, that at times you don’t know what feels like there’s acting and where there feels like there is real interaction between the participants on the screen. I agree wholeheartedly but I also completely disagree. I think that BORAT vibrates the line between what kind of reality the cameras are catching and what is obviously set-up. Yes, of course, it causes some temporal confusion about what’s really what but who really cares when Larry Charles has an excellent eye and rhythm about how long you can allow people to gaze at an image before they start question it’s validity. Did I question whether or not that bear was going to eat the children who came running up to the ice cream truck expecting frozen treats? No (and it’ll make sense later, I promise.). Did I think to myself of what to really make of the accuracy or validity of the big payoff at the end of the film where you can’t believe if Borat is or isn’t doing what you think he is? No (and I swear even harder that it’ll make sense later).

This is a movie driven by expectations and by surprises within the context of what the plot is trying to accomplish. You could put forth the argument that there really isn’t any hard plot here but that’s neither here nor there when you’re watching Sacha work his comedic techniques without anyone being the wiser. Razor sharp when it comes to manipulation and intuition, finding opportunities within seconds and knowing when it’s time to really lay on those he’s squeezing for comedic juice Sacha Baron Cohen, and Borat, is absolutely dangerous. Borat isn’t looking to bring lessons of cultural teachings from America to his home country. I would submit that he’s fine with who he is, is never going to change, and is more than happy to show Americans for who they ultimately are. For better or, for the people who believe that Iraq should be turned into a glass parking lot, worse.

A NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM (2006)

Director: Shawn Levy
Cast: Ben Stiller, Carla Gugino, Robin Williams, Owen Wilson, Paul Rudd, Ricky Gervais, Ernest Borgnine, Mickey Rooney, Dick Van Dyke, Bill Cobbs
Release: December 22, 2006
Synopsis: A bumbling security guard at the Museum of Natural History accidentally lets loose an ancient curse that causes the animals and insects on display to come to life and wreak havoc.

View Trailer:
* Large (Windows Media)

Prognosis: Negative. Take your pick: pre-packaged Adam Sandler or pre-packaged Ben Stiller.

Ben, while I champion his show on Fox on being one of the most egregious firings of all time by a network, has been slipping a little. From the really so-so performance in STARSKY AND HUTCH, to his pretty bad turn in DODGEBALL, to his pretty limp voice work in MADAGASCAR I am still holding out for an acting performance to lift him out of that pit of half-assedness.

I’m not so sure this is it.

As we open on things I am not quite sure if I am coming into a trailer or choir practice as the shot of the Museum of National History where Ben walks into is alive with the sound of two dozen voices lilting away in my ears even before we get word one from Stiller; and, to think of it, it’s not like it’s a very good one as he drops a lead-filled joke regarding a re-creation of Teddy Roosevelt on a horse with him being our 4th president. 26th is the right answer but, man, was that supposed to be funny or is Ben playing someone who is infected with slight mental retardation?

Anyway, we come to meet Dick Van Dyke and Mickey Rooney, Hollywood not being able to do a damn thing with regard to trying make these guys look like they don’t already have one foot in the grave with the other one thinking about making the jump. Don’t know why that was the casting decision but, alas, we are taken on the obligatory tour of the museum along with Ben as we take a look at all the things which are no doubt going to come alive at some point in the evening.

I especially like Van Dyke’s warning not to let anything out of the museum. I would think, at that point, a nice conversation should’ve taken place between employer and employee about what kind of freaky action goes down when the sun does. Nope, of course it doesn’t, but no matter. Ben is on the case.

And what a case it is as the first order of business is finding that the T-Rex is noticeably absent from its place in the museum. It’s off getting a drink of water from the fountain. Ben flips out, drops the flashlight he was using to investigate things with, and provokes the dino into a JURASSIC PARK rage.

It’s then when the juice becomes loose and all sorts of wacky and zany things start happening. Not so much with regard to the exhibits coming to life, you already knew that, but the last third of this trailer is exclusively devoted to showing us all the talent that is in this movie. From Owen Wilson to Carla Gugino, Ricky Gervais and Robin Williams this is a star-studded affair that is really geared to selling the families out there who like their Christ laden holidays filled with guest stars, seeing how holiday variety shows have gone the way of the Chesterfield Cigarette Radio Hour.

Myself? A lot of goofiness without a real compelling reason to care about anyone here. This isn’t a trailer looking to sell. This is a trailer looking to get people to buy on the basis on a little flash.

Melonpool Quickcast #6: Meeting “Johnny Depp”

Filed under: Melonpool Quickcast — admin @ 3:05 am
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-By Steve Troop

Based on Steve Troop’s classic webcomic of the same name, the Melonpool Quickcast features puppet versions of Troop’s alien cast, who are desperately trying to make heads or tails out of Earth culture.

Haunted by the claims he made in Melonpool Quickcast #4, Ralph Zinobop interviews Captain Jack Sparrow… or does he?

Don’t forget to comment on this and other Melonpool quickcasts over at the official Melonpool Quickcast Forum!

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Melonpool Quickcast #6: Meeting “Johnny Depp”:

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Comics in Context #139: Superman Returns Twice

Filed under: Comics in Context — admin @ 3:00 am

 

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cic-20060721-01.jpgI really wanted to like Bryan Singer’s new film Superman Returns much more than I did. Yet I was bothered by the very first publicity photo I saw from the film, which turned out to be a sign of the movie’s overall tone. Why was Superman’s cape brown? The traditional reds on Superman’s costume have turned much darker and browner in the new movie. Superman is meant to wear bright colors, matching the spirit of hope he embodies; it’s character like Batman who wear dark colors. Brown is drab and dreary. And Superman Returns is darker and drearier than it should be.

That’s a surprise, since Singer so admires Richard Donner’s original Superman movie from 1978. Now here’s a case of art finally receiving its proper recognition in the course of time. Donner was fired from Superman II (1981), much of which was reshot by director Richard Lester, who did not share Donner’s mythic vision of the character. This led to Lester’s Superman III (1983), an unfunny comedy built around Richard Pryor, and the utterly disastrous Superman IV: The Quest for Peace (1987). But as the years passed, the reputation of Donner’s Superman grew, and fans even managed to piece together an unofficial cut of Superman II, which reincorporated much of Donner’s footage (see “Comics in Context” #90). And now, over a quarter of a century later, Bryan Singer has not only designed Superman Returns as a homage to Donner’s film, but made clear that it is a sequel to Superman II, thereby deleting Superman III and IV from continuity, This does not stop Warners from selling DVDs of III and IV, but Warners is also issuing an official DVD of the Donner cut of Superman II. It seems that sometimes the good guys do indeed win. at least in the world of film history.

Singer follows the letter of Donner’s Superman in terms of continuity, but what I wonder is, does he truly capture the celebratory spirit of that epic adventure film?

Superman Returns’ opening premise is that Superman has been gone from Earth for five years: after Earth scientists determined the location of Krypton, Superman went there via spaceship to see for himself. Of course, he found out what we all know: it had been blown to bits.

I see why Singer and his writers came up with this five year gap. For one thing, metaphorically it stands for the far longer gap in time between Superman II and the new movie. Time in the Superman movies seems not much different than time in the comics. Thanks to recasting, the characters look no older, but now they’re in a world with cell phones, personal computers, and flat screen TVs. (I am now sounding a spoiler alert.)

The five year gap also makes possible the existence of the four-year-old son of Superman and Lois, conceived during their tryst in Superman II. When I first read that Lois would have a young son–born out of wedlock–and a boyfriend in the new Superman movie, I was amazed. Just how much influence over the movies does DC have? Didn’t DC protest? For that matter, wasn’t there any Warners executive who said, maybe a movie aimed at family audiences shouldn’t condone illegitimate births? Or have social mores really changed that much? Somehow, on seeing the movie and realizing that the kid is Superman’s child, it bothers me less. Perhaps it’s that the situation is handled so matter-of-factly.

But the Superman that we know from the comics and even from the Donner movie would never have left Earth for five years. Isn’t one of the points of the Donner movie that Superman made a mistake in giving up his super-powers in order to have a relationship (okay–to be blunt, to have sex) with Lois? Once Superman gives up his powers, the three Phantom Zone villains wreak havoc and nearly take over the world. In Superman II‘s closing moments Superman promises he will never abandon his role as Earth’s guardian again. And yet, according to Superman Returns, that’s just what he did.

Moreover, we are to believe that people started forgetting about superman during his long absence. All right then, what’s happened on Earth in the last five years? Among other things, there have been the 9/11 attacks, the tsunami disaster, and Hurricane Katrina. When such catastrophes struck, wouldn’t people wish that Superman were around to help? Would Superman, after being absent from Earth for five years, ever forgive himself for not being here to cope with these catastrophes? As a wise man has said, with great power must come great responsibility.

While paying homage to Donner’s film in so many ways, Singer’s Superman actually veers very far away from it. Maybe that shouldn’t be surprising. I was recently interviewed by Newsweek’s radio show about Superman Returns, and I was asked how it resembled Singer’s X-Men movies. My answer was that Singer’s Superman, like the X-Men, is an outsider, whose origin and powers separate him from the “normal” human race. Why would Superman spend five years looking for Krypton if he thought of Earth as his home? Singer’s Superman recalls his father Jor-El (in quotes from Marlon Brando in Donner’s movie) instructing him that he can never truly be one of them–the people of Earth. Singer’s movie seems to argue that Superman can never have a relationship with Lois, even though she is the mother of his son. She has moved on, and has a new, human boyfriend. (The boyfriend is played by James Marsden, who was Scott Summers, alias Cyclops, in the X-Men movies. In those movies the romance between Scott and Jean Grey falls flat dramatically, but Marsden’s appealing, sensitive performance in Superman Returns suggests that he and Singer could have treated the Scott-Jean relationship much differently.) Like dateless Clark Kent, Superman must remain alone.

Really? It’s true that Superman II, in both the Donner and Lester versions, contends that Superman cannot have both his superhero career and a life with Lois. It’s like those old pre-feminist movies in which women could not have both a career and marriage, like The Red Shoes (1948). (So this is The Red Boots?)

Yet in the comics Clark and Lois have been married for years now. Singer’s Superman reminded me of how much John Byrne turned the traditional idea of Superman upside down in The Man of Steel (1986). Byrne’s contention was that Clark is more “real” than Superman, that Superman, having been raised on Earth since infancy, considers himself an Earthman. If Superman is an immigrant, then he is thoroughly assimilated. In the comics, Clark’s marriage to Lois is a sign that Superman considers himself part of normal human society. Note too that Smallville takes Man of Steel even further: not only does Smallville’s Clark consider himself first and foremost a member of human society, but he is suspicious and resentful of Jor-El and other Kryptonians.

(By the way, notice that on his return to Earth in Singer’s film, Superman’s first major feat is to rescue a plane that is not only carrying Lois but also a space shuttle. Could this be a homage to the “space plane” rescue in Byrne’s Man of Steel #1. That would be appropriate since Man of Steel and Superman Returns are both “relaunches” of Superman. Similarly, I suspect that Superman’s near-demise in Superman Returns may be inspired by the famous “Death of Superman” storyline in the 1990s comics.)

Donner’s Superman movies now strike me as dated in its contention that Superman and Lois must remain apart. Other Superman stories have now demonstrated that their romance is far from “impossible.”

In fact, I even wonder if Donner’s movies really support the notion of Superman as alienated outsider. There’s the emphasis on Clark’s childhood and adolescence: it was Donner’s Superman that first established that Smallville was in Kansas, and that Clark is a product of the American midwest and traditional heartland values. (By casting Eva Marie Saint as Ma Kent and recycling some of Marlon Brando’s dialogue as Jor-El, Singer has not only reunited the leads of On the Waterfront in a new movie, but made them the hero’s father and mother figure.) There is nothing alien or alienated about Christopher Reeve’s sunny portrayal of Superman as all-American idealist. Reeve’s Superman even memorably carries a flag in one of the final scenes of Superman II. He’s not only one of us, he’s specifically an American. And isn’t the point of the ending of Donner’s first Superman that Superman rejects Jor-El’s thesis of not “interfering” in the lives of Earth people? By extension, doesn’t that mean that Superman no longer regards himself as separate from them, as Jor-El claimed he was?

The triangle in Superman Returns is like that of a screwball comedy, like His Girl Friday (1940), which., appropriately enough, has a reporter as female lead. There’s the hero, the Cary Grant part; there’s the Rosalind Russell part of the woman who used to be involved with the hero, and would be a perfect match for him, but instead has gotten romantically involved with someone else; and then there is the somebody else, who is nice but bland, the Ralph Bellamy part, as here played by James Marsden. And the rules of drama decree that Cary ends up with Roz. But Superman Returns ends with the triangle unchanged: Lois is still with the Marsden character, and Superman will merely watch over his son from afar. No wonder this denouement feels unsatisfactory.

Then again, I found it hard to care much for Brandon Routh’s Superman or Kate Bosworth’s Lois. They’re okay, and Routh is good at recapturing some of Christopher Reeve’s characterization of Clark. But Routh and Bosworth aren’t memorable, and that’s a big problem when audiences can see Tom Welling and Erica Durante give more vivid portrayals of Clark and Lois every week on Smallville, or hear Tim Daly and Dana Delany act the same roles to perfection every night on Boomerang’s animated Superman. Others have commented on how little dialogue Singer’s film gives Superman/Clark and Lois; Kevin Spacey’s Luthor, in contrast, gets plenty. Is it that Routh and Bosworth weren’t good enough to do more dialogue, or did the movie simply deny them the opportunity?

It’s fun to see Jack Larson, who played Jimmy Olsen on the 1950s Superman TV show, as a bartender, complete with Jimmy’s bow tie, in the new movie. That show’s Lois, Noel Neill, is 85 in real life (though to judge from a photo in The New York Times, looks amazingly good), but it’s disturbing that the film casts her in a deathbed scene.

What I liked the best about Superman Returns was the thing I liked least about Donner’s original Superman: the way Lex Luthor is portrayed. My editor Ken Plume and I disagree about Gene Hackman’s Luthor in the first movie. Ken makes the point that this half-comedic version of Luthor represents a necessary transition from the camp super-villainy of the 1960s Batman TV show to super-villainy treated more seriously. I will agree with Ken that beneath the bad wigs and execrable fashion sense (bad even for the 1970s), Hackman does have moments when he conveys a palpable sense of evil and menace. And yes, his aides Miss Teschmacher and, especially, Otis are considerably goofier than he is, although being the straight man to their buffoonery doesn’t make him look more sinister.

But Superman was released in 1978, the year after the original Star Wars, which demonstrated the dramatic impact of a villain who is played entirely seriously, as Darth Vader was. Vader became an icon of evil in popular culture. Significantly, nobody copied the Superman movies’ comedy version of Luthor: not the comics, not Lois and Clark, not the 1990s animated series, and not Smallville. Everyone working on Superman seemed to realize that the movies had gotten Luthor wrong. The somber, imperious menace conveyed by the Luthor of the 1990s animated series, as voiced by Clancy Brown, gets Superman’s greatest nemesis right.

This brings me to the subject of the new animated TV movie, Superman: Brainiac Attacks, which recently premiered on Cartoon Network before being released on DVD. I had been looking forward to this, too: it had been announced that Tim Daly and Dana Delany were returning to voice Superman and Lois, and the promotional art featured the familiar Bruce Timm designs from the 1990s series. So imagine my shock when I watched the movie and discovered this was a case of a wolf in Timm’s clothing, or, rather, designs.
It turned out that people from The Batman, the drastically inferior successor to the 1990s Batman animated series, were behind this TV-movie.
The writer has said in an interview that Superman: Brainiac Attacks was not meant to be in continuity with the 1990s Superman animated show. But if it’s in the same visual style, with the same two lead voice actors, shouldn’t we expect it to be in continuity? But no, though in Justice League Unlimited, which followed the continuity of the other 1990s DC animated show, Luthor had lost control of Lexcorp and had vanished from Earth, here he is back in his office, without explanation. And whereas in the previous animated series it was Luthor who made contact with Brainiac on the latter’s first visit to Earth, and Luthor had been attempting to resurrect Brainiac, according to the TV movie, they’d never met before. It would not have been hard to make the Luthor/Brainiac continuity of the TV movie conform to the previous series.

Even worse, Clancy Brown and Corey Burton were not brought back as the voices of Luthor and Brainiac. Luthor is instead portrayed as a goofball far worse than the Luthor of the Donner movies. I suspect the heavy hand of a Warners corporate decree at work, declaring that from now on Luthor must be a jerk. As for Brainiac, the sinister computer intelligence, he has developed an uncharacteristic tendency to chuckle. In contrast to the imaginative, well-crafted, character-driven storylines of the 1990s Superman series, Brainiac Attacks just turns Brainiac, the ultimate cerebral menace, into a gigantic robot monster, who lumbers about wreaking destruction, and then lumbers some more.

And then there’s Brainiac Attacks’ version of the Phantom Zone, which Superman can fly into and out of at will. But isn’t that ignoring the whole point of the Phantom Zone, which is that it is virtually inescapable (as Clark found out in the last season finale of Smallville)?

Enough about this disaster. Before I embarked on this tangent, I was about to say that I very much liked Kevin Spacey’s depiction of Luthor in Superman Returns. Spacey’s made a specialty of portraying villains that are larger than life yet credibly dangerous, from the first role that won him fame, on the TV series Wiseguy, through Bryan Singer’s The Usual Suspects (1995). It has been reported that Spacey himself insisted on toning down the sillier side of the movies’ Luthor. Certainly it helps that this Luthor displays his trademark baldness (we see the bad wigs, but Spacey’s Luthor almost never wears them), and that he dresses in a far more imposing manner. One might think that a genius like Luthor would prefer a girlfriend with brains, but, no, Donner tradition decrees that he be given a new beautiful bubblehead in the person of Kitty Kowalski, who lacks Miss Teschmacher’s partly redeeming vivacity. Thankfully, Spacey’s Luthor’s henchmen aren’t buffoons like Otis.

But what’s most important is Spacey’s manner as Luthor. He still makes jokes and phrases things humorously. But whereas Hackman’s Luthor
came off as a vulgar clown, a used car salesman wielding nuclear missiles, Spacey’s Luthor is much more persuasively a criminal mastermind, whose surface repartee masks sinister depths. When Spacey’s Luthor cracks a joke, it comes off as a sardonic witticism. And when Spacey’s Luthor confronts Superman, he is pure menace.

From one perspective, Luthor’s schemes in the Singer and Donner films, which amount to killing millions of people in the service of a far-fetched real estate deal, are ludicrous. But I now realize that Donner’s movie contained the seeds of the Luthor of Man of Steel, the 1990s animated series, and Smallville: the businessman who is insensitive to the welfare of the public.

The third act, with Superman’s struggles over Luthor’s new continent, and his subsequent near death, move at a leaden pace. This sequence also makes no sense.

Earlier, Luthor returned to the Fortress of Solitude, where the crystal-computerized (?) version of Jor-El told him all about the attributes of Kryptonian crystals, First, why did Superman leave the Fortress unprotected, when Luthor knows about it? (In Donner’s cut of Superman II, Superman destroys the Fortress, probably for that reason.) Wouldn’t Jor-El have designed the Fortress so that intruding Earthmen couldn’t activate it?
And why doesn’t the movie do something with the fact that the crystal-Jor-El mistakenly addresses Luthor as “my son,” thereby setting up Luthor metaphorically as Superman’s evil brother, even as an Anti-Christ, if you accept the idea of Superman as Christ figure?

So, Luthor tells us that he got the crystals to duplicate the properties of Kryptonite, and then he uses them to create an entire greenish continent. So shouldn’t Superman grow weak and fall down dead as soon as he flies over the Kryptonite continent? But instead he flies down, though he loses enough of his powers so that Luthor can deck him. Luthor impales him with a dagger-like Kryptonite crystal. Lois later removes most of the Kryptonite crystal, but a small chunk remains in Superman’s body. Superman is nevertheless able to lift the entire continent–which, remember, duplicates the properties of Kryptonite–into outer space. Yes, he collapses and nearly dies afterwards, but that feat should have been utterly impossible! And why didn’t the movie do more with the symbolism of Luthor raising a continent that is a negative version of Kryptonian geography?

In contrast, Superman’s encounter with Kryptonite in the first movie is relatively brief. But Superman Returns draws out his agonies. And when Superman recovers, the celebration is muted. We see Martha Kent, his foster mother, in the crowd waiting outside the hospital for news. Where is the joyous reunion scene between mother and foster son?

Remember the traditional finale of the previous Superman movies, with Christopher Reeve flying high above the Earth in space, then breaking the fourth wall by catching sight of us and giving us a big, winning grin, as he soars off? (It’s a more spectacular version of the memorable end of some of the Max Fleischer Superman cartoons, in which Clark winks at the audience.) Singer attempts to duplicate this shot at the end of Superman Returns, but Brandon Routh’s Man of Steel merely looks impassionately forward rather than giving us the smile we expect. It’s a dreary ending to a drab and dark movie. As John Williams’ Superman march sounded during the closing credits, reminding me of all the energy and joyousness in the Richard Donner for which he wrote it, I realized just how much Singer had missed the target.

SUPERMAN RETURNS TO 1960

After years of wondering whether I could fit various examples of DC’s fifty dollar Archives reprint volumes into my budget, and usually deciding no, I was pleased when DC finally started its inexpensively priced Showcase series instead, each offering five hundred pages of reprints in trade paperback form.

In time for the release of Superman Returns, DC has issues Showcase Presents Superman, Volume 2, collecting Silver Age tales from Action Comics and Superman from 1959 through 1961. This was a period of explosive creativity in the seven Superman-related titles edited by the late Mort Weisinger. In many aspects these stories fall far short of the standards of sophistication that readers expect from superhero comics today. But forty-five years ago the audience for comic books was primarily small children, and Weisinger was successfully targeting that market. Editor Julius Schwartz seemed to be aiming at intelligent teenagers as well, and in 1961 Stan Lee would start the revolution in superhero comics that would retain many of his readers into adulthood. But Schwartz and Lee were unusual in pushing the envelope in the early Silver Age.

I first encountered many of the stories in this Showcase volume as reprints in annuals when I was a boy, when my tastes were not yet developed enough to be bothered by the awkwardness in the dialogue or the logical holes in the plots. But i was dazzled by the imagination in these comics, and enthralled by the surprising emotional resonance in the best of Weisinger’s stories. Rereading old favorites in this collection, I still find much to admire amidst the dated dross.

The thing I like best about this Showcase volume is the credits. Although Lee and to a lesser degree Schwartz informed readers who write and drew the stories, again this was unusual at the time. Now, finally, I know who it was who wrote these tales which proved so memorable to me in my childhood, demonstrating to me some of the potential of the superhero genre.

Here in this volume, for example, is “The Old Man of Metropolis” from Action Comics #270 (November 1960), a story I described in one of the earliest installments of this column (see “Comics in Context” #4). The great Curt Swan drew it, bringing out its psychological drama with sensitivity and quiet, but subtly devastating emotional power, and now I know that it was written by the prolific Otto Binder.

Reading it now, it is all too clear that when Clark Kent settles down for a nap, what happens over the main body of the story is a dream, or rather, a nightmare. Clark/Superman finds himself transported into the future, where he has become an elderly man, who has lost all his super-powers. Binder thus masterfully uses the iconic image of Superman, the ultimate icon of strength, power and virility, to dramatize the physical deterioration of old age. Superman spends most of the story in costume, serving to continually remind us of his youth, yet now his hair is turning white, his face is wrinkled, his build is good for an old man but hardly what it was, and he is even forced to wear glasses not as a disguise but in order to see.

What I didn’t notice as a boy is the motivation for Superman’s nightmare about old age: he reads an essay that Supergirl, who hasn’t yet begun her public career, has written envisioning her own heroic career as Superwoman “when my cousin Superman reaches old [age].” The teenage Supergirl looks forward to this time, but the dream shows that Superman himself has subconscious fears that he will physically decline with age as an ordinary mortal does. Moreover, Binder is suggesting that though Superman acts like a father towards his young cousin, protecting and teaching her, he subconsciously fears that she will supplant him when she grows up, as indeed she does in the dream.

One may not expect to find subtlety in a Weisinger-era Superman story, yet here it is. Rereading the story in Showcase for the first time in decades, I was particularly impressed by the scenes between Superwoman and the aged Superman. She never acts with blatant cruelty towards her elder cousin. But, through Binder’s understated dialogue, and Swan’s superb command of facial expressions and body language, Superwoman’s essential insensitivity towards her cousin becomes clear. She folds her arms in impatience towards him, as if controlling her anger towards a misbehaving child. They have reversed their former surrogate parent-child relationship. Later, it turns out that she has even supplanted Clark as a reporter at The Daily Planet. In this guise, she gives him a beaming smile, like a mother trying to make up to her son for being angry. But there’s a certain condescension to her attempts at kindness. She tells him she will restore his fame by writing articles about him, but as she photographs the sad old man changing from Clark into Superman, readers should suspect that she is also exploiting him for her journalistic career. And look at the uncaring expression Swan put on her face as the elderly Superman makes his exit: she has now lost interest in her surrogate father figure.

It’s now part of comics legend that Weisinger used to ask the kids at the barber shop what they wanted to see in the comics. Why would children want to see a story about Superman in old age? I suspect that from time to time writers like Binder used the opportunities they had as comics writers to smuggle thorough themes that concerned them personally. Binder and Swan did such an amazing job with “The Old Man of Metropolis” that even as a boy, when old age and death seemed so far off in the future I need not think about them, it made a lasting impression on me. Perhaps even children have subconscious fears of mortality that this story played upon.

This Showcase volume’s great revelation for me is how often the name of Jerry Siegel, Superman’s co-creator, turns up credited as writer of the stories. So much of what has been written about the work Jerry Siegel and Superman’s other creator, artist Joe Shuster, confines itself to the stories they did in the late 1930s and early 1940s. But here is Siegel, two decades or more after Superman first appeared in comics, still exploring the possibilities of his great creation and further extending the character’s mythos.

When I first saw Siegel’s and Swan’s “The Two Faces of Superman,” from Superman #137 (May 1960), it was reprinted in a Superman Annual and labeled “an imaginary story,” the designation that Weisinger gave to stories that diverged from official continuity, exploring other directions that the characters’ lives could have taken. They were the predecessors of Marvel’s later What If and DC’s Elseworlds. I see from the reprint in Showcase, however, that “Two Faces” was originally called merely an “untold” story. As unusual as the events it recounts may be, they were still meant to be part of canonical continuity.

As its title suggests, Siegel’s “The Two Faces of Superman” is a variation on that perennial theme of superhero comics: the evil twin. Duality itself is a major theme of the genre, as in Siegel’s hero’s dual roles of Superman and Clark Kent, of Kryptonian alien and American citizen. In DC’s new coffee table book Superman Cover to Cover, Alvin Schwartz, the writer who conceived of Bizarro, reveals that he consciously intended Bizarro to represent Superman’s Jungian shadow, his dark side. But Bizarro has been presented as childlike or (dare I say it?) mentally retarded, prone to uncontrolled tantrums but somehow still innocent, much like the traditional 1960s version of the Hulk. He represents the immature child within the adult’s subconscious.

Super-Menace, the villainous version of Superman in Siegel’s “Two Faces,” is more definitely the evil side of Superman’s personality given physical form as a separate entity. The premise of Siegel’s story is that during its journey from Krypton to Earth, the rocket carrying the infant Superman struck an alien space ship. (Considering the inconceivable vastness of outer space, how likely is such a collision? And if the infant Superman’s rocket was slightly deflected by the alien vessel, wouldn’t that have knocked it off course? So does that mean that Jor-El did not intend the rocket to land in Smallville? These are questions we might ask about this story nowadays, but they are irrelevant to the purpose of Siegel’s dark fairy tale.) The collision activates a device that creates a duplicate of the Kryptonian rocket and the baby inside. Both rockets land on Earth, where the duplicate Superbaby is found and raised by gangster “˜Wolf” Derek and his wife Bonnie.

As a boy it never registered on me that the characters in Superboy stories were wearing old-fashioned clothing. Rereading “Two Faces” now I was startled to realize that Swan puts Bonnie the moll in a 1920s flapper outfit. Even though this story was published at the start of the 1960s, since Superman had debuted in 1938, he was still being portrayed as having been a toddler in the early 1920s. (Actually, by this logic, I suppose that baby Kal-El really should have landed on Earth in the late 1910s!) I recall that when Weisinger retired at the end of the 1960s, DC announced in its comics that the time period of Superboy’s adventures was now going to be considerably updated.

The opening caption of the story announces it as a “three-part novel.” Actually, it took up the entire issue, and that is as long as comic book stories got back then. This was a special event, and Siegel’s story has an epic feel, not only spanning settings ranging from Krypton to deep space to Earth, but spanning time, covering the entire length of Superman’s life, from Superbaby to Superboy to adult. From the standpoint of 2006, isn’t it interesting to see Weisinger use of the word “novel” to describe a self-contained comics story of unusual length? In “Two Faces” and other “novel”-length Weisinger stories, we see forebears of today’s graphic novel concept.

Throughout this story Siegel follows the parallels between the life of Superman, from infancy into adulthood, and the life of his literal evil twin over the same period.

There’s a great deal that just doesn’t work by today’s standards. It’s hard enough to believe that Ma and Pa Kent could control a super-powered baby; that’s why, starting with John Byrne’s The Man of Steel, recent versions of the Superman legend have him develop his super-powers after infancy, slowly from childhood through adolescence. How could this gangster and his wife control their super-powerful baby, especially when they actively encourage him to be destructive? Jonathan and Martha Kent did such a good job raising young Clark that he became an obedient, well-behaved Superboy. Wouldn’t his teenage evil counterpart have gone through a period of rebelling against his parents? Maybe we can accept the name of “Super-Menace” for Superman’s evil counterpart as an adult, but “Super-Brat” and “Super-Bully” just sound kitschy as names paralleling “Superbaby” and “Superboy.” And since Superboy was operating publicly in costume in his teens, in the Weisinger-era continuity, why did “Wolf” and Bonnie keep their own super-powered kid under wraps until well until adulthood? In the final chapter, there’s the silver-haired Wolf and Bonnie, who could have had their “Super-Bully” even take over the world for them years before.

These questions didn’t bother me when I first read the story as a boy. As i said, this is a dark fairy tale, and follows a fairy tale’s logic. The mythic power of this story lies in Siegel’s paralleling the life of Superman and the life of his evil counterpart through the decades, through three phases of their lives. Though Weisinger and Siegel surely didn’t think in these terms, one could read “Two Faces” as a metaphor for how the dark side of Superman–his own Dark Phoenix–grew from infancy hidden within the hero’s subconscious, gathering strength to finally emerge in adulthood. In the final chapter Superman’s shadow self finally bursts forth, to challenge Superman’s conscious personality–his Jungian ego–for supremacy. Significantly, even as a teenager, “Super-Bully” tried to frame Superboy for wrongdoing, as if the unconscious shadow self was attempting to corrupt the conscious personality.

There’s also some nice intentional comedy in the story, as with Wolf and Bonnie’s pride in watching their adopted son’s first crimes. “His first safe!” marvels Wolf. “Gosh, it almost makes me feel sentimental!”

Remaining in concealment (and metaphorically, in the subconscious), Super-Bully/Super-Menace grows envious of Superboy/Superman’s life, and wants to take his place. In the final chapter Super-Menace, using his superhuman hearing, discovered that Wolf and Bonnie only pretended to show him parental love; they actually regarded him as a “freak” whom they were out to exploit. “I hate Superman for having had loving foster parents! I’ll kill him!”

When Super-Menace and Superman finally meet, Superman shows him that he isn’t even “real”: Super-Menace is merely “an unearthly force manifested in human form.” You could read this as meaning that Super-Menace doesn’t represent Superman’s true personality, but is merely a formerly buried aspect of his subconscious.

Or, again, though Weisinger and Siegel probably did not consciously think this through, it is noteworthy that Super-Menace has no secret identity, no human identity like Clark Kent that has become a part of society. What they clearly did realize is that Super-Menace has no emotional foundation in parental love. The “love” that Wolf and Bonnie showed him was no more real than his physical body. Hence Super-Menace has no real core to his being: he is a hollow version of Superman. He has also never truly become an adult; he is still effectively an orphaned, unloved baby. Sobbing like a child, the enraged Super-Menace defies Superman: “I hate your human body! I hate all the things that you are that I can never be! I’ve got to destroy you!”

On the point of murdering Superman (his good self), Super-Menace (the shadow self) realizes that his rage is misdirected, and that his entire life was a waste. In realizing this, he has finally achieved a sort of psychological maturity. He confronts Wolf and Bonnie, and accuses them, “My life could have been a blessing, but you, with your rotten cunning, twisted it into . . .something terrible.” Super-Menace then commits suicide, destroying his evil foster parents in the process.

It may be unrealistic to have Super-Menace completely reverse the direction of his life upon learning his parents hated him. But, remember, this is a story that follows the logic of a child’s fable. Consider how much importance the memory of his parents–both his Kryptonian ones and the Kents–have had on Superman, molding this man who could have become humanity’s greatest enemy into its greatest hero, the champion of life. Wolf and Bonnie warped Super-Menace’s mind just as Jonathan and Martha Kent guided the formation of Superman’s personality. Super-Menace’s sense of self is as strongly tied to his foster parents as Superman’s is to the Kents. So there is a poetic justice and logic that learning the harsh truth about his foster parents would lead to Super-Menace’s self-destruction. What would happen to Batman and Spider-Man were they to discover that Thomas Wayne and Uncle Ben had really been criminals?

You surely know about Krypto the Super-Dog and perhaps about the other Super-Pets from Silver Age Superman comics, but have you ever heard of the nasty Kryptonian super-animal? It’s the “Flame Dragon from Krypton” introduced in the story of the same name by Jerry Siegel and artist Wayne Boring, first published in Superman #142 (January 1961), and reprinted in this Showcase. I first saw this story as a reprint in the very first superhero comic I ever read: World’s Finest #142 (by coincidence, the same number), whose cover story was the eerie, even tragic saga of the nobody who briefly became the all-powerful villain, the Composite Superman. I’ve always liked the Flame Dragon, and now I realize one of the reasons why. Perhaps Weisinger and Siegel merely intended to appeal to kids’ fascination with movie monsters. After all, this was the same time that Stan Lee and Jack Kirby gave us their own dragon, Fin Fang Foom, as well as other monsters in the years just before Fantastic Four #1. Hence, the Flame Dragon was the counterpart to Godzilla, just as the better known Titano was Superman’s version of King Kong, complete with the giant ape’s fondness for a beautiful human woman. But pitting Superman against the Flame Dragon also makes him a modern version of the monster slayers, and especially the dragon slayers of mythology, like St. George and Siegfried.

What seems odd about this story is that its finale is not the defeat of the Flame Dragon, which takes place two pages before the end, but yet another of Superman’s schemes to deceive Lois into thinking he is not really Clark Kent. This time Superman puts on a show for Lois with the aid of Batman and Supergirl, who masquerade as a doctor and nurse. So is it that Clark Kent is afraid Lois will prove he is Superman? Or is the unspoken subtext that Superman fears that Lois will find out that he is really the much more mundane Clark Kent in his everyday life?

The Flame Dragon is another example of Weisinger and Siegel’s efforts to depict Krypton as a world of marvels. It turns out that Siegel is credited as writer for the map of Krypton at the end of this Showcase volume, which features such natural wonders as the Fire Falls, the Jewel Mountain, the Scarlet Jungle, the Rainbow Canyon, and the Gold Volcano. Looking at this map is like looking at a map of Oz, with all of its fictional wonders.

As portrayed in the Superman movies and in Byrne’s Man of Steel, Krypton is a forbidding place. Smallville and recent comics depict the Kryptonians as an imperialistic people, bent on conquest. But for Weisinger and Siegel, Krypton was a lost paradise.

This theme is the basis of the best known tale in this Showcase collection, “Superman’s Return to Krypton” written by Siegel and drawn by Boring, and originally published in Superman #141 (November 1960). By accident, Superman finds himself cast back in time and marooned on Krypton shortly before the marriage of his parents, Jor-El and Lara. Calling himself by his Kryptonian name of Kal-El, Superman becomes Jor-El’s friend and assistant, without revealing their true relationship, and helps Jor-El in his efforts to save the Kryptonian people from the catastrophe he foresees. Superman also falls in love with the beautiful Kryptonian actress Lyla Lerrol. (According to Weisinger’s tradition, each of the women Superman loves has two “L’s” in her name. Weisinger did not explain why Lex Luthor also has a double “L.”)

Siegel tries, but he just cannot make the romance between Superman and Lyla touching. And what about Lois? Well, Superman doesn’t think he will ever see her again, but Siegel also suggests that Lois may be somewhat superficial. Superman thinks, “Lois loved me because i was Superman, but Lyla loves me for. . . myself! I’m just an ordinary mortal!”

Certainly this story is founded on the fantasy that one could be reunited with his deceased parents, as Superman is here. But i think that this tale works best as an expression of longing for the past, for a lost paradise that one can never truly regain.

Weisinger insisted in his stories that though Superman could travel through time, it was impossible for him to alter the past. There is one memorable tale in which Superboy goes back in time and attempts to prevent the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, only to be paralyzed by Red Kryptonite wielded by a time-traveling Luthor, who is unaware that this is the night of Lincoln’s murder. In “Superman’s Return to Krypton,” Superman hopes that he can prevent Krypton’s destruction, yet step by step he watches history take its inevitable course. He gives himself over to hs romance with Lyla, knowing that they are both doomed. As it turns out, another accident (and one which isn’t at all credible) spares Superman’s life, but, like Ishmael at the end of Moby Dick, he is the sole survivor who must watch as everyone else perishes. Weisinger’s and Siegel’s vision of the inevitability of time is a tragic one, and hence it is surprising to find it in a children’s story.

Much has been made of Siegel’s and Shuster’s Jewish-American background, as the children of immigrants. The fact that Kryptonian names like “Kal-El” seem to have Hebrew roots suggests that Weisinger and Siegel may have been conscious of Jewish themes in the Superman legend. Thus in “Superman’s Return to Krypton,” Krypton may be a metaphor for the Old Country, the home of Siegel’s ancestors: Europe before the World Wars and the Holocaust, another lost paradise, at least in the memories of those who left, that was doomed to destruction.

It’s too bad that Richard Donner’s Superman movie made Krypton look like such an austere, barren place, instead of the paradise of Siegel’s imagination. Otherwise, wouldn’t “Superman’s Return to Krypton” make the basis of a potentially great movie?

Copyright 2006 Peter Sanderson

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