Brad's Week in Dork! (4/7/13-4/13/13)

I spent the first half of this week watching nothing but Homicide - Life on the Street.  That show is just too damn good.  Not Wire amazing, but shockingly close.  And Andre Braugher has to be my go to Super Cop.  Forget Serpico.  Forget Dirty Harry.  Frank Pembleton is the real deal.  He's an angry asshole, but he's right more often than he's wrong, and he'll drop you with words rather than bullets.  As I type this it's nearly 2AM and I'm blitzing through the 4th season.   I'll be done with this series much quicker than I had originally anticipated. Heartbreaking and utterly compelling television.

The rest of the week was pretty much a continuation of last week's Roger Ebert/Martin Scorsese theme.  I finally managed to track down my copy of Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, and Matt & I had a total blast rockin' out to that insane bit of pop culture.  "This Is My Happening And It Freaks Me Out!!!!"  I also started Scorsese by Ebert.  It's a cool little book that collects past & present reviews of Scorsese's films; the plan is to pick at it as I make my way through the filmmaker's career.  The book is an obvious love letter, maybe even a blind courtship.  Ebert was deeply affected by Scorsese's first film Who's That Knocking At My Door (originally titled I Call First), and the rose colored glasses got planted early, allowing a shockingly glowing review of the exploitation oddity, Boxcar Bertha.  But, of course, Ebert loves the filth as much as the beautiful - I mean, the man did script Beyond the Valley of the Dolls!  Pervert!

Homicide - Life on the Street Season 3:  Two bouncing red balls occupy the majority of the season.  First, The White Glove murder.  Pembleton & Bayliss follow a trail of breadcrumbs that leads from the murder of Baltimore's Good Samaritan Award winner to a possible serial killer.  The case plunges super cop Frank Pembleton into a religious crisis that perfectly showcases Andre Braugher's exceptional handling of that self-righteous/bastard mix.  Halfway through the season Felton, Howard, and Bolander are shot down in a tenement stairwell.   While they fight for life, every standing detective races to discover the identity of the shooter.  The three parter ends with special guest star Steve Buscemi in the box.  Another great season of television.  Again, the brilliance of this show is not the inevitable criminal behind bars (which is not so much an inevitability with Homicide), but in the manner in which these investigations torture and live inside the detectives.  Three seasons in and the Adena Watson case is still ever present with Tim Bayliss, and his inability to move beyond that murder affects his relationship with Pembleton.  This just does not happen with Law & Order.  You can see The Wire getting born in the scripts of Homicide.

Jurassic Park 3D:  "I was overwhelmed by the power of this place!" Steven Spielberg's last great hurrah in adventure cinema; more recent attempts like Tintin & Crystal Skull just utterly fail to capture the awe & astonishment found in Jurassic Park. Partnered with the wonderfully high performances from Jeff Goldblum and Laura Dern, these two sell the hell outta the cgi/animatronic beasties. Objects may appear closer in the mirror? Yer damn right when Ian Malcom's spraying himself with fear. Sam Neil, however, remains my favorite player. The manner in which he bonds with the two children after experiencing his own rebirth of wonder is classic Spielbergian heartstrings. Dean Cundey proves that he may be the greatest photographer of monsters, not enough credit is given to the lighting & staging of the lens to sell the dino splices (the man also shot John Carpenter's The Thing if you dare have any doubts on his title). Jurassic Park might lack the heartbreak of King Kong, but it is most certainly the modern version of Skull Island. As for the 3D conversion? It's certainly weird to experience lens flares flying at you - more distraction than emersion.  Still, whatever gets this beast back on the big screen.

Badlands:  "I'll Kiss Your Ass If He Don't Look Like James Dean." Badlands works best when it explores the power and attraction of celebrity criminals. The screenplay springs out of the infamous Charles Starkweather spree killings, but leaves the gritty details behind in an attempt to understand the mystifying relationship between the two Bonnie & Clyders.  And I'm not sure it quite succeeds. The last five minutes are absolutely fantastic. Martin Sheen in chains, tossing collectibles from his pockets - a comb, a lighter, a pen - the policemen gawking up at this shackled superstar. The film is absolutely beautiful, the midwest has never looked so good. And Malick captures the isolation and farmland mentality perfectly. Warren Oates for his short screentime feels like he stepped right out of my own family's North Dakota homestead. Martin Sheen's soft headed pyscho has that desperation for attention, to break free from the prison of the middle-of-nowhere. But it's Sissy Spacek's tagalong killer that mystifies me. Despite the wall-to-wall narration she supplies, I never quite understand the why of what she's doing.

Age of Ultron #5:  Bryan Hitch concludes his run on this Marvel Event and I'll be sad to see him go- no one captures the punishment of a super hero melee quite like Hitch.  But on the story front, Brian Michael Bendis continues to stretch the script.  We get an unnecessary flashback to the salad days of Mr. Fantastic & Tony Stark, science-talking over the corpse of The Vision.  Ultron's tech sure is weird, right?  Duh. There's a trek through the Savage Land and a bit of blather with the white Nick Fury.  But no Ultron.  We're halfway through this mini series and I still don't have a grasp on the particulars of the apocalypse.  And now we're introduced to time travel and the annoyingly inevitable reset.  As much props that were given to the Jump-Into-The-Action beginning, it was also clear from the start that this Age was never going to last, but now I'm starting to wonder what real effects this series is going to have on the Marvel Universe.  Other than introducing some lame ass McFarlane Toys character or possibly Marvel Man himself.  At the end of the day, Age of Ultron just hasn't nabbed real thrills.

Batman #19:  The book opens with an absurd hostage situation, Bruce Wayne steps out of the Gotham National Bank with a pile of corpses left in his wake.  Commissioner Gordon takes a shotgun blast to the chest & a blank faced Wayne drives a motorcycle over the collapsed Commish.  If Gordon's walking around next issue, I'll cry "Bullshit!"  The rest of the issue develops into an obvious mystery reveal, but I'm perfectly happy due to the use of one of my favorite Rogues.  I'm still waiting for the Scott Snyder of Black Mirror/Court of Owls fame, but this two issue mini will hopefully lead to an epic Bat-deconstruction with the upcoming Zero Year mega arc.

Beyond the Valley of the Dolls:  "Rock n Roll is not my kind of poison!" It's Josie & The Pussycats go to Playboy hippie hell - a real demonic nightmare brought to you by the beautiful bizarre combo of Russ Meyer & Roger Ebert. Bosom blaster Dolly Read leads her girl band into the swinging, pot fog world of Los Angeles where they meet the sexual tyrannosaurus Z Man and his Nazi barman.  Michael Blodgett is Lance Rocke, the date rape faced king of swing that steals her heart, springboarding Dolly's boyfriend headfirst into a lifetime of disability...until, a magical Clue-like dinner party cures all via the powers of bat shit crazy. Tagged as a Musical Horror Comedy, Beyond the Valley of the Dolls is obviously Roger Ebert cramming the kitchen sink into one mad, gonzo genre picture and I gotta say...it's a crap ton of fun!!! You've got insane Reefer Madness morality, the violent sex crazed fear of The Explosive Generation, and the wannabe hippie thrills of a million groovy pictures. Sure, it's a mess, but it's also a real gas. As we all know, you have to give your body to the ritual cuz it's "Delicious."

Who's That Knocking At My Door:  Martin Scorsese was 25 years old when he cobbled together his first film, and it's kinda brilliant in how perfectly it captures the themes that plague the rest of his work. Harvey Keitel is a young hood struggling to discover manhood on the mean streets of New York, playing heavy while the Top 40 scores his small time antics.  Life gets tricky when he can't discern his girl from a broad or a bride. His brain's melted from the combo poison of too much religion and too many movies.  Keitel is charismatic as all hell.  His smile could charm the pants off of any imaginary prostitute.  Scorsese might hit the nail hard on the head, but Who's That Knocking is undeniably the arrival of a great American auteur.

Fantastic Four #6:  Easily my favorite issue of Fraction & Bagley's run so far.  The Fantastic Family time travels back to The Big Bang, a school field trip to witness the creation of Everything.  Unknown to the coolest home schoolers ever, a trial from the far flung future has sentenced their greatest criminal to death by means of Big Bang.  I dare not reveal the baddie's name here, but it's perfectly classic and Bagley renders him with Jack Kirby justice.  Also, a little more of that genetic breakdown plot reveals itself as Ben Grimm unleashes some fiery Clobberin' Time.  Still not as fun as its sister title FF, but I'm starting to develop hope.

Saga #12:  The book opens with a horrifying battle scene.  Prince Robot, wounded, and spurting green blood from the neck.  A cute little mouse medic comes to the rescue, but cute little anythings don't last long in the world of Saga.  Prince Robot awakens in orbit of the home planet to novelist extraordinaire, D. Oswald Heist, the man responsible for the romantic pulp that inspired Alana into the arms of Marko.  Robot thinks a little interrogation will lead him to his targets and he's not wrong.  This concluding chapter to the second arc is filled with anger & dread, and it's a strong indicator that this series is evolving into a devastating epic worthy of its title.

Batman and Red Robin #19:  This gatefold WTF cover is the most offensive yet.  I'm deeply disappointed in DC for dragging Frank Miller's Carrie Kelley into the New 52, but only as a costume party stunt.  The real driving force behind this issue is Bruce Wayne's grieving process.  He travels to Frankenstein's castle in an effort to identify the secrets behind resurrection - there he must suffer the blasphemy babel of the monster and ward off Red Robin's insults.  It's a goofy comic book experience, and a sad attempt in light of Grant Morrison's previous Batman Inc #9.  It's gotta be rough on writer Peter Tomasi, he has to move on with this series without the partner on the other side of the ampersand.  Frankly, they should have cancelled this book rather than play this ridiculous round robin exercise (pun intended), and I really hope Carrie Kelley stays outta the 52.

Uncanny Avengers #6:  Rick Remender dips into Jason Aaron's God of Thunder book to tell the tale of an early confrontation between Thor & Apocalypse.  And yes, it involves more time travel.  Seriously, what is going on with Marvel Now and time travel!?!?  HG Wells is bored in his grave.  That being said, this was easily the best issue of the series so far despite the lack of John Cassaday and the time travel malarky.  Onslaught is still out there, but Remender has moved on to a couple other Marvel Universe heavy hitters.  And what's it all got to do with Wolverine medieval past?  Goofy.  Kinda stupid.  But a lot of fun.  Ready for the next issue.

Thor - God of Thunder #7:  After the origin filler of last issue, Esad Ribic returns to illustrate The God Butcher's final solution.  And what does the God of Pancakes & Tamborines have to do with all this heavenly destruction?  Modern Day Thor & Future Thor strategize and get fat on ale, and a great big chuckle can be found in the spin-off possibilities of Thor - Cosmic God Cop!  I'm making this arc sound goofier than it is - the mix of Jason Aaron & Esad Ribic is proving to be beastly heroic poem, the Beowulf of the Marvel Universe...plus, time travel of course.

Sledgehammer 44 #2:  This short little mini comes to a conclusion and the result is simple origin story of a potentially fascinating character.  But how does it fit into the rest of the Mignolaverse?  Only time will tell, but I think this WWII creature deserves a longer story.  As is, it's cute, interesting, uh-huh.  But not the wowza I was hoping for given this rich time period in BPRD lore.

The Place Beyond The Pines:  The first 40 minutes had me. In a pathetic attempt to bring home the bacon, Ryan Gosling's tattooed daredevil makes an insane dash into criminality. Eva Mendes, as the braless mother of his affection, delivers one of her finest turns as she struggles to reject her adolescent lust for him and accept the family ideal in the form of Mahershala Ali. As the wannabe-partner-in-crime, Ben Mendelsohn doesn't come close to scraping the bottom of filth as he did in Killing Them Softly, but he still proves himself to be the scuzziest hostile character actor in contemporary cinema. He owns every frame he occupies. But when Bradley Cooper appears and the film switches into the corrupt cop sub-genre, I dropped out. His story is obvious, routine, and worst of all - a bore. Then the third chapter begins and I nearly went blind with eye roll. The Place Beyond The Pines is desperate for you to feel its "real" independent spirit, but for all the flash acting on display the narrative is too ordinary to support it.

Boxcar Bertha:  Martin Scorsese's first "conventional" film came from the exploitation school of Roger Corman. It provides all the nipples, squibs, and atrocities required of his teacher, but is impossibly injected with the bright young thing's thematic desires and visual hopes. Barbara Hershey gets the job done with her dim bulb ambition, and the sexual conquests of the even dimmer bulbs around her.  David Carradine's Big Bill Shelley is certainly the figure of a Hoffaesque rabble rouser.  He's slick, cool, and full of bravado. Bernie Casey is the brilliantly loyal goon with a flair for harmonica when his hand doesn't clutch a shotgun. But the characters are less interesting than their director's flourishes. The climactic railroad dick showdown is surreally kinetic, with characters nearly levitating, Evil Deadlike as they accept the blasts from Casey's boomstick. I don't think a shootout had ever been attempted in such a dreamlike fashion, all the while, a poor hero slips off into the distance, crucified to a moving train. A solid film with an apocalyptic finale.

--Brad

Matt’s Week in Dork! (4/7/13-4/13/13)

    I figured before Brad went into fits, I’d best start up Deadwood again.  I’d started watching it a couple years back, during an awesome Western month, but things happened and I didn’t continue.  After cranking through Rome while I was on vacation last week…well, I wanted more Rome truth be told.  But instead I decided to pop this back in the old DVD player.  They sure do talk pretty in Deadwood.  C&%$suckers, @$$f*&%ers, $#!tkickers, c#!%s, and lots of other words I typically use old-style comicbook style profanity for.  There’s enough swearing in this show to make salty sailors blush.

The Seventh Seal:  “My flesh is afraid, but I am not.”  Young Max Von Sydow is bloody terrifying, with his blond hair and his chiseled face.  He has a very sinister way about him.  This meditation on death and the fear of death is set against plague ravaged medieval Europe.  Von Sydow and his worldly squire have just returned from the Crusades, tired, bitter, and nearing death.  When the Grim Reaper arrives, they begin a chess game to decide fates.  As the story progresses, we meet a traveling circus with a goofy clown, and his comely wife, and their young boy.  Each step along the way, we meet various people trying to come to terms with life and its meaning.  There are some great discussions both funny and touching about love and living.  And some dark delvings into fear and horror.  It’s bawdy and thoughtful, and rather strange.  Even Death himself is rather funny, and sinister.  Interesting combinations in the movie.

Excalibur:  “Rest in the arms of the Dragon.”  Oh, John Boorman, you mad bastard.  Stylized and surreal, Excalibur is anything but naturalistic or realistic.  It is operatic fantasy, an epic poem on film.  He even opens it with my favorite piece of Wagner, Siegfried’s Funeral March.  Everyone is Shakespeare acting, bellowing dialog at the top of their lungs like devotees of the great god Brian Blessed.  You can imagine that John Q. Public circa 1350 might have imagined the story playing out much like this.  No connection to reality or history, but dwelling in the deepest and strangest of mythology.  What always kills me about this story is how kind of awful the ‘heroes’ are.  It takes all of two seconds for Lancelot to betray his ‘best friend.’  Of course, it took all of two seconds for them to become best friends in the first place, and just as little time for Arthur and Guinevere fall in love.  It’s not that I want the film to be longer, but it feels like it is supposed to be.  It feels like large chunks are missing.

L’Incoronazione di Poppea:  “Your breast deserves a sweeter name.”  Rome still on my mind, I lucked into having this one come in.  I didn’t actually know it was about Nero and his devil-wife Poppea.  It’s well produced.  I was surprised to see that it was from 1984; it felt more recent.  I’ll admit that I’m not more than a rank amateur at this whole opera thing, but I’m pretty sure I don’t care much for Italian opera.  So far, I’ve typically preferred the German stuff.  But again, I’m kind of new to it all, and still testing the waters.  Part of it is the music itself.  I want something a bit more epic and sweeping, where the Italian stuff I’ve heard so far sounds like little more than a harpsichord and a few violins (even when there’s a whole orchestra).  If you silence the singers and listen to Wagner, it’s still compelling music.  If you silenced the singers in this opera, I’d be wondering what I should order from the wine list, and hoping the cream sauce isn’t too rich.  Now, I realize what follows is an awfully shallow observation, but I’m an awfully shallow guy.  The lead actress Maria Ewing seems built for the stage.  From a distance, like from where you would see her if you were in the audience, she appears beautiful.  But up close, she looks kind of like a Muppet.  It’s distracting.  I don’t know if it’s bad plastic surgery, weird make-up, or she’s just an odd looking woman.  But it kept weirding me out whenever the camera would zoom in.  I wonder if she’s from a coastal town, ‘cause she has a touch of the Innsmouth Look about her.  But then, the guy playing Nero looks kind of like the Fat Kid from every 80s teen comedy, so what do I know?

Prehistoric Women:  “Strangely enough, the swan dive was invented before the swan.”  You know what I like in a narrator?  I like a narrator to explain in detail exactly what’s happening on the screen.  That’s great.  It reminds me of the masterworks of Stan “The Man” Lee.  Due to a brief domestic dispute, a woman leads a bunch of her tribe away from the men (like five guys), to create a tribe of ladies who know how to do stuff (like fish unsuccessfully and get caught by giants).  Years later the children of this splinter faction return to get them some lovin’ from Not Russ Tamblyn and his buddy Not Sal Mineo.  The battle between the ladies and the men would later be echoed by the epic opening of Saving Private Ryan.  Truly harrowing.  I believe this is based on the same Shakespeare play that inspired Captain Caveman.  Certainly, the totally authentic prehistoric language, consisting of as many as 5 words, seem to encompass the range of human communication eloquently.  The film adheres to the great Raymond Chandler’s advice, “when in doubt, have two women wearing animal skins wrestle for a few minutes.”  As the narrator says, “it seems that women were women in those days, too.”  Boy, I’ll say.  I bet if you checked, you’d find that their legs went all the way up.  The erotic mating dance is pure interpretive genius.  The pteroducktyl may be the most terrifying use of stock footage of a waterfowl ever captured in cinema.  I hope the AFI will finally relent and name this one of the greatest films of all time.  It deserves the credit after all these years.  The discovery of tools, fire, misogyny, cooked meat, and how to drive off ducks all in one generation.  Amazing.  And the use of the grunting, hairy giant as a metaphor for our loss of humanity in an ever increasingly mechanistic society was thought provoking to say the least.

Spies-A-Go-Go:  “Ve noticed the sign und ve are rocking und rolling enthusiasts und ve are here for the dance.”  Everything is better when it’s A-Go-Go.  In case, like me, you find the comedy stylings of Benny Hill a bit too cerebral, there are options, like this fantastic spy adventure comedy staring Arch Hall Jr. and his amazing Giant Face.  See, you know it’s funny, because there’s zany music and ethnic stereotypes.  And of course, the funniest thing ever to happen in the history of funny things, a dwarf trying to rope a cow.  Pure.  Comic.  Gold.  Cowboy Jaws knows it.  Creepy, giant faced Arian monster Elvis, Arch Hall Jr. makes for a heck of a singing secret agent.  Forget Val Kilmer in Top Secret, it’s all about having a huge face and knowing how to mug the camera…mug for the camera.  Always remember to watch out for snakes.

Star Trek: The Motion Picture:  There’s not really much plot here.  It’s kind of a summation of all the various ‘find a supercomputer’ stories from the old show.  But it also lays the foundation for Trek to come, and ideas from this film echo on.  Ilia and Decker become Troi and Riker.  V’ger becomes the alien probe from The Voyage Home, and I think partially inspired the Borg, too.  The music is good.  The effects are nice.  And I like a lot of what makes it to the screen.  But there are some unnecessary scenes, and though I like a lot of the sequences of flying through space and around objects, there as room for trimming for sure.  But I don’t think this movie deserves the derision it typically receives.  I respect them for trying to keep Trek its own thing and not just follow Star Wars’ lead by making it action heavy, as they would do in Wrath of Khan.

The Vanguard:  This low budget sci-fi horror film has a deep running, very bent sense of humor.  There are hints of Evil Dead, Mad Max, Dog Soldiers and some other lower budget, fringe films.  It’s sort of what I was expecting from Bellflower (not the hipster snooze-fest I got).  Don’t get me wrong.  It has some serious narrative flaws, giving some character backgrounds that don’t exactly add up to motivation, losing the thread a few times, and it features a let-down ending.  Still, it has enough going for it that fans of low budget stuff should find something to enjoy.  The final blood explosion really doesn’t work, though, and it’s kind of a bad way to finish up, with a memorably ineffective special effects shot.  I did like the lead actor’s weird deadpan beard acting, though.

Beyond the Valley of the Doll:  “This is my happening and it freaks me out!”  Heavy weight philosophy, the dope, rock n’ role, an aggressive ambisexual, and more boobs than a Congressional subcommittee.  The wild world of Russ Meyer, the greatest dirty old man to ever point a movie camera at some bimbos in bellbottoms.  While it is obviously a ‘bad’ movie, it’s kind of great like only bad movies can be.  It’s so danged surreal, with scenes that don’t seem to have anything to do with the plot, characters acting in ways that don’t make any sense, and a tone that would be hard pressed to be less even.  Joke joke joke --Beheading!!!  Sing sing sing -- Attempted suicide!!!  Yet, for some reason (other than the enormous boobs), I was very entertained.

Lost, Lonely, and Vicious:  “Yes, I know how it feels to be lonely…Wanna Coke?”  They may not be rebels, but they’re sure without causes…and clues.  Johnny Dennis and his vacuous jerk buddies don’t know what they want but they’re willing to sit around in a café and bitch to get it.  A young James Dean type guy is about to screw up his whole life because it’s going too well.  The glitz and glamour ain’t all it’s cracked up to be…I guess.  One day I do want a cute young lady to hold my bongos.  If it’s at a lake, all the better.  This is a heartfelt movie, if not a very good one.  It feels like the MST3K boys should take a go at it, but at the same time, it really does have a lot of heart.  The ending feels false, though.

    I watched a few old shorts on Friday night.  Crisis in Morality was a delightfully stupid Christian fluff piece about how everything fun or worth doing is evil.  Hell is a Place Called Hollywood is a nice sleazy short about the dangers of going to Hollywood, which almost certainly is the product of exactly what it’s about.  It features a bunch of cheeky nudity in the name of education.  We need to see the young starlet take her clothes off in the story of a young starlet who is exploited and made to take her clothes off.  It reminded me of that awesome Social Disease short from Amazon Women on the Moon.  Those pesky reform school girls are the subject of the third short, Little Miss Delinquent.  The lead girl in that one is surprisingly good.  I wonder if she went on to anything, or if her weird side-bite kept her from success.  And it’s Canadian, which makes it extra special.

Jacktown:  “All of a sudden you’re like…Gettin’ headaches.”  Whenever I review a uh…movie, I think I’m gonna dramatically uh…pause.  This is how you know I’m very uh…serious.  The two dimwit punks we meet seem to have a uh…inability to talk about what they’re talking about.  It’s like those villain conversations where the bad guy talks about ‘taking care of’ someone, or somebody ‘having an accident,’ but never actually says what he means outright.  When Blondie McDouche gives an underage waitress the business in his sweet convertible, he goes to the slammer for the statutory rape.  What follows is a kind of After School Special type prison experience, as the emotionless surfer-dude goes through the prison paces.  Then, through the ultra-kindly platitudes of the warden and the ministering of his bobbysoxer daughter, he gets the Jesus in him and becomes a good boy.

Doctor Who: Remembrance of the Daleks:  The beginning of the final stretch for classic Who, this is the episode I always think of when I remember Sylvester McCoy’s run.  The Doctor and Ace head back to 1963 and uncover some funny doings.  A annoyingly typical military dullard is in control of a unit of soldiers investigating, at odds of course, with the scientists who are trying to figure out weird energy sources.  Ace is especially cute in this one, letting her hair down a bit, and getting a chance to drop the hammer on some baddies.  She’s probably the closest companion the Doctor ever had to the great Leela.  The storyline makes interesting connections to William Hartnell, implying that he had some specific reasons for being on Earth at the beginning of An Unearthly Child that he was unable to accomplish.  I like when they build on the Doctor and his past, dealing with things he did even so far back as the first stories.  This is a pretty good Dalek story, and certainly feels more like traditional, pre-Trial of a Time Lord stuff.  One complaint I have is the voice of the Daleks; there’s something off about them here.  But I like their look, one group in white and gold, another in black or grey.  And the ‘special weapons’ Dalek is fab.

Monsters:  “The vibe just changed.”  Scoot McNairy does something I’ve rarely seen in film here.  At the beginning of the movie he makes you hate him so much; not because he’s bad, but because he’s just such a sniveling turd.  But as the movie goes on, he wins me over, growing as a character and maybe becoming more of a man.  And he does one of the only really effective drunk performances I’ve ever seen.  Beyond that, this low budget science fiction/horror film is surprisingly effective.  A photographer is tasked with getting his bosses daughter back home to the United States from Central America.  The problem is, most of Mexico is covered in what is known as the ‘infected zone,’ a region covered in invasive alien life.  I suppose there’s an element of social commentary, looking at how giant disasters effect those without the financial means to escape and the extreme methods people use to get to America (not to mention the advantage taken of those who try).  But overall, it’s a road trip adventure movie mixed with elements of classic Kaiju.

    I finished Scatter Adapt and Remember, a pretty darned good book about how we might survive an oncoming mass extinction.

    “The greatest Bruce in rock is Bruce Kulick, guitar player for Kiss 1984-1996, from Brooklyn.  Case closed.”  I read issues 7, 8, and 9 of Hawkeye.  It’s a fine comic, but I still don’t get what the big deal is; why people are going so apenuts for it.  There are some funny bits, and I like that they’re keeping a lot of the more outlandish superheroes and villains out of it.  But I still hate the art, and I still don’t see what makes people so gushy about it.  I guess it’s like E.R., or Seinfeld and Friends, or Richard Geer.  I know they’re popular, so they must have something that makes people watch.  But whatever it is is totally lost on me.

    “Gods are such beautiful creatures, I’ve never been more sure of that.  Because I’ve seen what they look like on the inside.”  I then read issues 2, 3, and 4 of Thor: God of Thunder.  Only one more issue to go in the God Butcher story arc.  The first issue was great, with a lot of ‘holy cats!’ kind of potential.  Once the story really gets going, though, it’s only pretty good.  I don’t know if maybe, like Godzilla The Half Century War, it should have been a bit longer, like say 10 issues, or if the idea wasn’t quite as good as it seemed like it might be.  I’ll have to read the final chapter in the story to find out for sure.  Still, I love the art and there are a lot of intriguing ideas.  I want more of Thor doing intergalactic P.I. work.  Even the appearance of Iron Man, which initially bothered me (the first panel, with the two of them flying together, gave me that heart sinking feeling when you’re hoping for a new pony but get a pair of socks), is handled pretty well.

    “Get the boys to load her into the car--Then you can dump her like a gentleman.”  On a roll, I figured I’d read the first two issues of the new Rocketeer miniseries, Hollywood Horror.  Now, I love the Rocketeer and I love Lovecraftian horror.  And I even see ways they might work together.  This ain’t it.  I dislike the narrator intensely and I absolutely hate the art.  It’s like a super-crappy kids comic, the sort of thing only kids would be so lacking in sophistication as to accept as passable.  It looks like the worst stuff Cartoon Network dishes out.  Anyway, in spite of my Rocketeer love and immense gladness that the property is being developed, I can only hope that this isn’t a sign of things to come, simply a speed-bump along the way.

    “I really hope that brown river has something to do with chocolate…”  Yeah, they’re not that great, but Futurama comics give me a nice bite sized chuckle.  The writing is about on par with later seasons of the show, not the classic amazingness of the first few.  The art is fine.  It’s not something anyone needs to rush right out and buy, but if you’re looking for something quick that gives you a laugh, it’s a pretty good choice.

    And to round out my comic reading for the week, I ended up finally sitting down to the two Morbus Gravis trades I picked up years ago.  Man, I like the art.  I don’t think much of the content, though.

-Matt

A Fistful of Ebert! (Brad's Picks)

Like most film freaks out there on Internetland, Siskel & Ebert At The Movies was essential to my growth as a film fan.  I still remember the first episode I ever watched - Fletch Lives/Leviathan/Police Academy 6.  In 1989 I was ten years old and obsessed with the Police Academy series.  I was infuriated at the idea that these two Critics didn't understand the comic talents of Lasard & Company.  Didn't they understand that Michael Winslow made funny sounds with his mouth!?!?  That Bubba Smith was really tall and mean looking but actually a sweetheart!?!?  No, they did not.  And I've always been the kinda fanboy that gets hurt when someone doesn't love something the way I do.  Just ask my wife after we watched The Terminator or Matt when he casually "meh"ed Matt Fraction's Hawkeye comic book earlier this week.  However, despite my frustration with their complete misunderstanding of Police Academy 6, I continued to watch At The Movies throughout my childhood.

In 1999 after Gene Siskel died, my enthusiasm for At The Movies dwindled.  Ebert partnered with various folks like Elvis Mitchell, Harry Knowles, and eventually Richard Roeper.  But the Two Thumbs magic was gone.  Ebert & Roeper never quite seemed to have that genuine banter, that rivalry/friendship that brought depth to the review show.  So I stopped watching, but followed Ebert online.

Thyroid cancer might have forced Ebert off the air, but he continued to strive via his website and twitter feed.  He gifted me more film knowledge in the last five years than in the entire run of At The Movies.  His Great Movies column is absolutely invaluable to cinephiles, and his twitter feed was a fantastic source of quotes and articles.  He never hid from the public, and he certainly wasn't shy about his appearance.  As he said on Sunday Morning "Don't Make It Your Problem."



It was a rare experience when I agreed with a Roger Ebert review, but his passion for cinema was so obviously joyous that even when he Hated, Hated, Hated a movie you loved and you were shouting empty screams at his An American Werewolf In London review, you couldn't help but appreciate or admire his words.  Siskel & Ebert were the first legitimatized fanboys.  Ebert proved that you could win a Pulitzer simply by loving film hard enough.  They're what all us faceless bloggers strive to become, but will no doubt never be.   Today, I urge you to visit RogerEbert.com.  He may have built a cadre of writers around him, but he was plugging away till the very end.  His last film review, The Host.  Probably not the ideal film to go out on, but the man was cranking out the opinions until the very end.   That's truly awesome, and inspiring.

(UPDATED:  Roger Ebert's Final Film Review was actually for Terrence Malick's upcoming To The Wonder.  Read it here.)

If you haven't figured it out already, here are five more reasons why Roger Ebert is a cinematic icon and a total badass.  R.I.P. sir.

5.  Beyond the Valley of the Dolls:  Ebert was no snoot.  He could drone on and on about Truffaut or spend days giving a shot by shot analysis of Vertigo.  But he is also the man who penned some of the sultriest and bustiest films of Russ Meyer.  And Beyond the Valley of the Dolls is the best of the bunch.  Imagine Josie & The Pussycats but sexed to the extreme and psychedelic to the point of psychotic.  The acting is laughable, the plot utterly mondo, but the cleavage is plunging and the narrative is nearly as eye-popping.  Pure, cheezy gold.  A must stop on the map of exploitation.

4.  His DVD Commentary Tracks:  One of my greatest dork disappointments will forever be that I never had the opportunity to attend Ebertfest.  For the past 15 years, Roger Ebert hosted a film festival in Champagne, Illinois devoted to the great works of cinematic art.  He screened classic films like Days of Heaven alongside modern notables like Take Shelter.  Q&As that probably amounted to a solid block of film class.  It might be an experience most of us will never know, but what we do have at our fingertips are several excellent commentary tracks that Ebert recorded over the years.  Obvious classics like Citizen Kane, Casablanca, & Floating Weeds but also bizarre gems like Crumb, Dark City, and his own Beyond the Valley of the Dolls.  Each track offers intelligent insight along with that joyous Ebert spirit.  Seek 'em out.

3.  Siskel & Ebert on Batman - Mask of the Phantasm:  Ok, how cool is this.  Shortly after the release of Batman Forever, Gene Siskel dipped into his Laserdisc collection to review Mask of the Phantasm, the animated Batman film they didn't even bother with upon its initial theatrical run.  If you've been reading this blog for a while you know that we're obsessed with Bruce Timm's animated series.  It's easily the best incarnation of Batman (outside of the comics) that the mass public has been granted so far.  And it is so geeky cool to see Gene & Roger award it the coveted Two Thumbs Up.  Even if they don't understand that Mark Hamill's Joker is the only Joker.  Screw Jack Nicholson.

2.  The Great Movies:  When I first heard of Ebert's passing I went running to my bookshelves.  This is the best book out there if you want to take full pleasure in the writing of Roger Ebert.  However, I could not find it on my shelves or in the piles of books that scar my apartment's terrain.  I had no choice, off to the bookstore I went and snagged another paperback copy.  Started as a column for the Chicago Sun Times in 1997, Ebert was becoming frustrated with some of his students' aversion to Black & White cinema as well as their complete lack of knowledge concerning great auteurs like Bunuel, Bresson, & Ozu (confession time, I'm one of those philistines who's never seen an Ozu flick).  The Great Movies is Ebert's ultimate celebration of cinema.  As I look at its table of contents, I see dozens of films I have yet to consume.  Lately, I've been trying to complete the gaps in my movie knowledge, but Ebert's passing has motivated me to get serious.  Starting last night with 2001 - A Space Odyssey, I'm making it my mission statement to work through the entirety of this book.  I'll read the review, watch the movie, get educated.  It's going to take a while (years probably if I toss in Parts II & III of Ebert's series) but I'm gonna get it done.  Next up, The 400 Blows.

1.  Ebert Picks Dark City as his Favorite Film of 1998:  Each year, when the Top 10 Films start to sprinkle across the media landscape, you see a critical trend.  Tree Of Life, There Will Be Blood, The Social Network.  If you follow along you know what's coming.  However, in 1998 you had no idea that Ebert would pick Alex Proyas's Dark City as his Number One Film.  I remember being rocked by that choice.  Based on his review I knew he had loved the film.   But never in a million years would I have thought a big time Critic would choose a science-fiction noir as the year's best film.  That's the kinda choice freakshow bloggers like myself pick, not respectable media types.  And in choosing Dark City as his favorite film of 98, Roger Ebert cemented himself as one of the geeks.  Go ahead, hate on An American Werewolf in London.  Balk at the gory simplicity of Phantasm II.  Ebert was not a hoity toity.  He reveled in the same bosoms as Russ Meyer.  And he loved creepy ass fedora aliens.  One of us, one of us...

And for the curious, Roger Ebert recently updated his Top 10 All Time Favorite Films to include Terrence Malick's Tree of Life.  (In Alphabetical Order) Aguirre - Wrath of God, Apocalypse Now, Citizen Kane, La Dolce Vita, The General, Raging Bull, 2001 - A Space Odyssey, Tokyo Story, The Tree of Life, Vertigo.

--Brad