Brad's Week in Dork! (8/17/14-8/23/14)

It's my birthday week!  You know what that means?  Summer is winding down, all the big blockbusters are done, and we've got another Expendables movie to get frustrated over. The real winners came from the B Movie Bin - Charles Bronson's Mr Majestyk & Roger Corman's Sorceress. You're gonna want to add these batshit beauties to your collection pronto.

The Expendables:  When I first heard this film announced, I was thrilled at the notion of seeing all my favorite 80s action stars (+ a couple of newbies) in one big testosterone orgy.  Stallone had just directed the single most violent experience in the Rambo franchise, and he put a proper emotional caper on the Rocky films.  However, in the wake of subsequent sequels, The Expendables is more than just a hint of a disappointment.  The dialogue is stilted, the violence tame, the fight choreography uninspired, and the thrill of seeing Statham, Arnie, Dolph Lundgren, Jet Li, & Stallone sharing the screen (or runtime as the case turned out to be) is no longer there.  The first Expendables is simply a collection of missed opportunities.  Sure, Terry Crews still packs in the charm and Dolph is a wondrous neanderthal, but Eric Roberts is a bore, the damsel is laughable, and it is just not BADASS enough.  This is not the excessive tribute I want.

The Avengers:  Now here is a film that pays off on its iconography.  As a response to this year's Winter Solider & Guardians of the Galaxy, there has been the inevitable chatter of what film ranks supreme in the MCU.  I really, really, really love the 2014 Marvel offerings, but I seriously doubt there will ever come a film in the franchise to match my enthusiasm for their first battle royale.  I enjoyed the Phase One films just fine, but it's in The Avengers where the characters start to gel.  Through their interactions with each other (Tony & Bruce, Tony & Steve, Tony & Fury...hmmm...we see who makes the big bucks here) the film solidifies the emotional weight of the narrative.  It's not about Cosmic Cubes and Chitauri warriors, it's about "I'm Always Angry," Cap's battle fatigue endurance, and Loki's big brother complex.  Joss Whedon strives to give each player a moment, and manages to reveal to the world the appeal of a star-spangled boy scout and a depressed green rage monster.  This is something comic book geeks have known for decades, and it's a hoot to see the rest of the world invited to the party.

The Expendables 2:  The second outing is where things really get dumb, but also a whole heckuva lot more entertaining.  But in that Laugh At kinda way.  Jean Claude Van Damme is The Goat - ooooooooooooooo - a nefarious Bond villain with a cache of nukes and a thirst for pretty boy blood (Watch Out Liam Hemsworth!).  Stallone gathers the team together to save the world, and demolish Eastern Europe.  Con Air's Simon West brings a little life into the direction, but the endless splatter of CGI blood only highlights the bullshit vibe of the whole Expendables concept.  You just can't go home again.  There is only one Rambo, one Terminator, one Delta Force.  Please stop "I'll Be Back"ing the dialogue, it's just awkward - not cool.

Howard the Duck:  Guardians of the Galaxy simply necessitated another rewatch.  I know this is one of Matt's Favorite Movies, and even though I cannot possibly join him on that particularly crazy point of view, I do think Howard The Duck is not the abomination some might have you believe.  In the same fashion as The Goonies or Wall Street, Howard The Duck expertly captures the weirdness of the 1980s.  From its earnest punk rock revolution to its broad jabs at consumerism, the film strives to capture the biting satire of Steve Gerber's original comic even when the jokes fall flat, and the performance stretch beyond the stratosphere.  It's a boggling movie.  But it's weird.  And it's fun.  Bestiality is hilarious, right?

The Expendables 3:  "I Am The Hague!"  I will not bother to complain about the downgrade from R to PG-13.  Frankly, the first two films were only rated R thanks to waffling computer gore, so that type of bitching is moot.  That being said, it's obvious from the third entry that Stallone has no idea what makes the idea of The Expendables worthwhile.  After a nifty little jailbreak for Wesley Snipes, the crew is disbanded and Sly stretches the runtime with Kesley Grammar recruiting a new batch of young things.  I did not pay $15 to stare into the pink lips of Kellan Lutz.  No, I am here to watch Terry Crews chaingun a swath through a faceless sea of henchmen.  I want to see Jason Statham decapitate some chump with an epic round house kick.  I don't care about the polished teeth of youth.  The icons we came to see are barely present.   The Expendables 3 only succeeds when the old bastards get their screentime.  Antonio Banderas is adorable in his babbling enthusiasm for killing.  Mel Gibson is kinda terrifying when gleefully discussing the application of meat suits.  Wesley Snipes is WTF Crazy, and he's great for all five seconds he's given to shine.  I am your audience here Stallone.  I feed off of nostalgia.  Give me something to chew.  But this horse has been bludgeoned to death.  Also, director Patrick Hughes is set to direct The Raid remake???  God No!  Someone stop him!  The last thing we need is a cheap looking knockoff splattered with cartoon bloodspray and CGI tanks.  Laughable.

Mr. Majestyk:  Want a glimpse of real manliness?  Look no further.  Kino Lorber just released a new blu ray of what I consider to be Charles Bronson's finest hour, and it is a gorgeous burst of raw 70s manliness.  Yes, as much as I love the Death Wish films, Mr Majestyk is where it's at.  Screenplay by Elmore Leonard (who later wrote the novelization that can still be purchased at your local bookshop), is a simple watermelon farmer desperate to clear his crop when he runs afoul of Al Lettieri's mob enforcer.  It's one of those films where principle matters over common sense, and thankfully Bronson's Majestyk has the special forces training to back up his righteousness.  Great, simple gun battles punctuated by Bronson's well worn intensity.  This is the ultimate (Mid)Western, the type of film John Cougar Mellencamp dreams he could replicate in song.  Once upon a time, I would watch this flick on loop, and despite having an Elmore Leonard autographed poster in our bedroom, I recently discovered that The Wife has never had the pleasure.  So, it looks like I'll be watching Mr. Majestyk again real soon.

The Congress:  High Concept movies are a bitch to pull off.  Robin Wright plays herself, an aging actor with a sick kid and a limited time left in front of the camera.  After some plot demanded internal struggle, she sells not just her image but her whole being to Danny Huston's Hollywood mogul so that he can use her in whatever cinematic tripe he deems worthy of profit.  It's one of those films that enjoys potshots at our current pop culture landscape while trying to mine deeper concepts like The Human Soul.  I appreciate the attempt, and the first half (where actual actors populate the screen) is certainly engaging.  However, when the real world morphs into Cool World, the scenery gets wackier, the reality less defined, and my interest dims.  Neat to look at, but ultimately an obvious declaration.

Batman - Assault on Arkham:  DC Animation is loosing it, and it's hard not to attribute their artistic slump as a direct result of Bruce Timm's departure.  Justice League War, Superman Unbound, The Flashpoint Paradox, Son of Batman, and Assault on Arkham all seem more interested in acquiring their gritty PG-13 rating and reveling in moronic bloodshed & creepy sexual references then actually telling a good story.  Which is a serious bummer, as DC used to own the animated arena.  Heck, just last year they completed the extraordinary feat of adapting Frank Miller's The Dark Knight Returns & it was PHENOMENAL!  Assault on Arkham is directed by the same guy (Jay Oliva), but it's only victory is that it crams in as many references to the hit video game as it can while promoting the uber-lame Suicide Squad.  Owning the DC Animated films used to be a requirement, but now it's looking like even renting them is dangerous.  Such a letdown.

The Fade-Out #1:  I'm still processing the conclusion of Ed Brubaker & Sean Phillips' Fatale, and already they've launched into a brand new series.  It appears like they're taking a break from the supernatural to tell a straight up Noir centered in the golden age of Hollywood.  I, of course, am totally A-OK with that.  It's a typical set-up: black-out drunk screenwriter wakes up in a hotel room with a dead starlet sprawled on the carpet.  Who killed the diva?  Plenty of suspects.  It may seem premature to praise The Fade-Out, but given their track record, you would be an absolute fool not to want to jump into this hardboiled pool.  October will see the release of the final Fatale tradepaperback, and as stoked as I am to reread it, I am even more excited that such quality comics are on their way.

Duck Soup:  Half the year is over, and I still have plenty of Cinematic Resolutions to check off the list. For whatever reason, I've never been much of a comedy guy, and I certainly have never been one to consume the supposed comedy classics.  Only recently have I discovered Charlie Chaplin & Harold Lloyd, and I was kinda hoping that The Marx Brothers would fall into that similar realm of "Damn That's Classic For A Reason."  Unfortunately, I can't say that I was won over.  I enjoyed what delightful dicks Groucho & Chico could be, but their jokey joke comedy felt too much like Dad humor for me to fully embrace.  Duck Soup got me some chuckles, but I left the theater appreciating its place in cinema history more than as an actual entertainment.

Sorceress:  Now here is a film of cinematic legend...or at least it should be.  Produced by Roger Corman during that wondrous Conan The Barbarian knock-off phase, and directed by Foxy Brown's Jack Hill (until a post-production dispute kicked him off), Sorceress has pretty much anything a 13 year-old boy or stunted adult could possibly want.  We're talking twin Kung Fu Playmates, a horny Satyr, a fatherly viking, a vengeful ape-man, a marauding zombie horde, and an actual appearance by that winged lion on the box art.  In short, B-Movie gold.  Never before available on DVD, Scorpion Releasing makes a name for itself by finally gifting us this gonzo exploitation onto blu ray.  A MUST OWN.

Sin City - A Dame To Kill For:  Some things are better left unadapted.  Frank Miller's Sin City comics are an ultra-masculinized reworking of Film Noir tropes, a genre that already reveled in hedonism and bravado.  The plots were never stunning, it was all about the ridiculous hardboiled dialogue and Miller's mastery over negative space.  Replicating that onto the big screen, Robert Rodriguez barely manages to capture the bizarre visuals and it's a rare actor who can pull-off the lingo.  Josh Brolin gives the good ol' college try.  Mickey Rourke is practically a Dick Tracy face pre-latex, so his Marv is a top-notch brute.  And there probably has never been an actor more suited to be a Frank Miller puppet than Eva Green.  I admire her game.  But ultimately, the Sin City films leave me cold and unimpressed.  Jessica Alba is wrong, wrong, wrong as stripper Goddess Nancy, and her "original" story of revenge that concludes the film is dull, awkward, and out-of-sync with the timeline.  Joseph Gordon Levitt might have made for a good addition if his story had any weight whatsoever.  So, this might sound crazy given the current climate, but not every comic needs to be a movie.

See No Evil, Hear No Evil:  Saw this on netflix, randomly watched it late one night.  It's a film I saw a lot as a kid, and I don't think you're going to find too many people who agree with me on this one, but it is my favorite Richard Pryor/Gene Wilder pairing.  It's an ultra silly crime caper in which a blind guy & a deaf guy are on the from the law as well as a couple of killers.  Hijinks ensue.  Nothing innovative here, but the film wins me over because of the warmth each actor displays for the other.  They're a couple of losers wallowing in their disability, but through each other they learn to enjoy life once again.  Misanthrope gimmick comedy.  Apparently, I'm a sucker for it.

Beasts of Burden - Animal Rites by Evan Dorkin & Jill Thompson:  Saturday night was our 3rd Meeting of our 3rd Year of Graphic Novel Book Club.  I know I say this every month, but I can't believe it's still going, and I can't believe how much I love it so.  Beasts of Burden marks one of those rare occasions where we all pretty much loved the book (ok, so William was a little lukewarm on it, but I'll take that as a victory).  Imagine the X-Files but cast with Cats & Dogs and you pretty much get the gist.  A series of one-and-done comics that slowly builds to an overarching story involving a malevolent force calling out from the small town sewers.  Creepy, ghoulish, even heartwarming.  The only trouble is that the comics have been going since 2003 and it seems like we've only scratched the surface of this world.  We're greedy, and we want more, more, more from the gang.

--Brad

Brad's Week in Dork! (9/8/13-9/14/13)

Second week of September and my Criterion month is still going strong.  Granted, I didn't really delve deep into the foreign classics like my initial plan, but what do you expect when you start your dorkery with Michael Bay's The Rock.  I'm still flummoxed that such a seemingly mindless Blockbuster resides in The Criterion Collection, but I guess I see it as a lure to drag mainstream bros into the eclectic artistry of the auteur theory.  Heck, I know that's how I first found myself craving spine numbers.  The first Criterion I ever purchased was The Silence of the Lambs (Spine # 13), and from there I found John Woo's Hard Boiled (Spine # 9), Terry Gilliam's Time Bandits (Spine # 37), and Sam Fuller's Shock Corridor (Spine # 19).  And Shock Corridor is the film responsible for my Criterion obsession.  Looking at this Top 250 Films list from Sight & Sound, I discovered that I still have a long journey ahead of me, but I am more determined than ever to fill those classic cinematic gaps.  If you have that same desire then Criterion is the place to be - just watch your addictive personality.

But let's not forget my fanboy origins.  My absolute favorite film of the week (not including Sweet Smell of Success, a Top 10er for me) was the recent Dark Knight Returns animated film.  After so much crying and whining from the comic book community, we finally have the film we've all wanted to see on the big screen and I'm not hearing enough love from the internet.  This is a masterpiece, and the most fun I've had watching an animated film in years.  Adult entertainment.  No kiddie stuff here.  This is the potential of the medium fully realized.  If you don't trust the blind buy than give it a Netflix.  You won't be sorry.  Parts 1 & 2 are widely available everywhere, but The Complete Cut can now be purchased exclusively in store at Best Buy.

The Rock (Criterion Spine # 108):  So much has changed since 1996.  Remember when the world was Nicholas Cage's oyster, after he jumped from his Oscar darling Leaving Las Vegas to this successful summer smash?  That one-two punch launched the man down a blockbuster gauntlet that would eventually implode with the equally powerful rope-a-dope combo of The Wicker Man & Ghost Rider.  Welcome to the land of Direct-To-DVD, Nic.  Sigh.  Michael Bay, the heir apparent of Tony Scott, reaches deep into his bag of tricks - we get gratuitous car chases, plenty of unnecessary patriotism, random wheelchairs, and heaps of oddball character quirks.  Cage's G-Man chemist not only obsesses over The Beatles, but kills lumbering thugs with the musical might of Elton John!  What the hell?  But it's kind of amazing.  The Rock is a bombastic weird mess of an actioner, but its wandering behemoth narrative doesn't feel as tired or as rote as it would become in the Transformers trilogy...or soon to be quadrilogy.

On The Waterfront (Criterion Spine # 647):  "Ain't nobody tough anymore."  I recognize that for many, On The Waterfront was the birth of a new era in performance, but Brando feels completely apart from the other actors in the film.  His punch drunk stoolie bumbles through the scene, fidgeting props, mumbling dialog, and generally steals the show from the others that dare occupy the frame.  Revolutionary?  Yeah, okay, maybe.  It's hard for me in 2013 to appreciate what was obviously a shock to the audience in 1954, but hindsight being what it is, On The Waterfront has an awkward show-off quality.  It's a film populated with classically earnest performances by Lee J Cobb, Karl Malden, Eva Marie Saint, and Rod Steiger but there's a xonomorph hiding amongst them - Brando, God's Gift to Acting.

Secret Honor (Criterion Spine # 257):  But without Brando do we have this tyrannical terror of performance?  For 90 minutes, Phillip Baker Hall as Richard Milhous Nixon rants and raves to the walls of his study as he records his confessional memoir armed with a bottle of scotch and an automatic pistol.  It's a horror show.  Filmed over the course of seven days, and comprised mostly of Robert Altman's University of Michigan students, Secret Honor is an angry declaration against the 37th President that might attempt to highlight some humanity, but really just revels in Nixon's futile attempts to justify his actions.  And I'm 100% cool with that.  Seriously, who doesn't want to see this man put a gun to his head?  At the very least Phillip Baker Hall is easily the most entertaining on-screen Nixon; even confined to four walls, Hall races circles around other impersonators like Anthony Hopkins or Frank Langella.

Star Trek Into Darkness:  "I thought we were explorers?"  Sigh.  Man oh man, I really wish JJ Abrams listened to that painful bit of truth uttered by Scotty halfway through the film.  Of course, the Star Trek films haven't been about exploring since 1979, and look how popular that was?  As you may or may not have figured out by now, we ITMODers are none too happy with this latest Trek.  That being said, I bought the damn movie.  Yep, I'm one of those hypocritical blogger jerkwads that bitches & moans about a film, but still succumbs to the temptation of high definition.  Doesn't that mean that I like Into Darkness on some level?  Maybe.  But it's more indicative of my completist fanboy problem.  I own (and will own) every Star Trek film that has ever hit disc.  Heck, I have far worse Treks than Into Darkness - those being Generations & Nemesis.  So, my goal this week was to pick out all the little bits I actually enjoyed about Star Trek The Reboot Part II.  Uhurah's helmet kiss for Spock, The Nibiru sand drawing disolve, Kirk bedding two cat chicks, Pike chastising Kirk leading to another motivational barroom chat, those spherical ice cubes, Klingon helmets, Scotty's disco nightlife collar, Cumberbatch's crying, and the tumbling gravitational malfunction.  But those superficial "LIKES" are nothing when paired with the stupidity on display within the narrative.  Why does Admiral Marcus unfreeze Khan?  We're told for his savagery...uh okay, let me go get Napoleon to build me a Nuclear Warhead.  Nonsense.

Traffic (Criterion Spine # 151):  The one-two punch of Erin Brockovich & Traffic marks the end of Steven Soderbergh's first wave of filmmaking - goodbye Sex, Lies & Videotape, hello Ocean's 11.  The director graduates from slick indie crime dramas to this Oscar Bait cavalcade of Hollywood Smiles, with show-me filter fun and a serious after school message.  Drugs are bad, ok.  And the War on Drugs is a joke.  When I saw this in 2000, I was in love.  Cynicism + big top performances = college class catnip.  Benicio Del Toro & Don Cheadle are excellent as two cops on two sides of the border pointlessly battling with the cartels.  But Michael Douglas's junkie kids story is dull and annoying, and Catherine Zeta-Jones' mama kingpin routine a bore.  I love early Soderbergh (Sex, Limey, Out of Sight) and modern Soderbergh (Informant, Haywire, Side Effects), but the middle era (Traffic, Oceans, & The Good German) holds little interest these days.

Breaking Bad - Season 2:  As the fifth and final season bears down upon us, I find myself inundated at work with Breaking Bad enthusiasm.  I'm sick and tired of not being a part of the water cooler.  I meandered my way through the first season a while back, but didn't experience the MUST SEE TV effect that others seem to have fallen into.  Watching the second season, I can't say that I'm in love in the same fashion as The Wire or even Justified, but by the last episode I was certainly hooked.  BOOM!  John De Lancie.  Yikes.  Walter White started this series as a family man struggling to provide before he shuffles off, and by the end of Season 2 we see a man doomed by his choices.  It's been impossible to avoid all the spoilers running free on Twitter & Facebook, so I have some idea what villainy the man will eventually achieve...it's kinda depressing.  Not a lot of people to root for in this show, maybe Hank, or the kid...maybe.

Sweet Smell of Success (Criterion Spine # 555):  "You're a liar, Sidney."  This is a mean movie.  And I love mean movies.  Tony Curtis is a weasel of a man, a press agent scamming his way through a slew of clients, desperate to land a juicy line in Burt Lancaster's prized gossip column.  Lancaster, the lord of the New York nightlife, reigns over politicians and cigarette girls alike and has no qualms bartering wordcount for sibling affection.  This demigod charges Tony Curtis with the task of manipulating a jazz musician out of the arms of his younger sister, a trail of bile and hate nearly topples the city...or at least it feels like it should.  Honestly, I cannot think of another movie in which people inject such heated venom into each other simply with words.  I'd take a crack on the head any day over one biting word from Lancaster.  And I'm no cookie filled with arsenic.

The Red Shoes (Criterion Spine # 44):  One year after they concocted their religious psychomelodrama Black Narcissus, Michael Powell & Emric Pressburger return with an even more punishing saga.  The Red Shoes follows the budding relationship between Moira Shearer's dancer and Marius Goring's composer; their romance could be grande if it didn't attract the jealousy of Anton Walbrook's despotic impresario.  I'm not sure how they do it, but as masters of manipulation Powell & Pressburger have crafted a nightmare around ballet that's as captivating and heart pounding as Lawrence of Arabia's war torn deserts or Ridley Scott's space trucking Alien.  Of course, you cannot dismiss Jack Cardiff's technicolor majesty or Robert Helpmann's choreography as their technical brilliance during The Red Shoes fantasy sequence alone makes this essential viewing for all film nuts.

The Small Press Expo 2013:  This was a great year for mini-comics.  Three of my friendly neighborhood comic shopketeers had tables with books as varied as Zodiac Starforce, Gang War, and The Secret Origin of John Elway.  Weird, wild stuff.  Alex Fine's Il Brutto chapbook was certainly a highlight with its Charles Bronson What Ifs, and Trevor Henderson's House print (see below) inspired the course of this Week in Dork.  But my absolute favorite was Thomas Scioli's trilogy of Satan's Soldier comics.  Imagine Superman as an agent of evil with a chubby brood of Super Babies to drown. Really horrible and demented irreverence that you will never see from the big two publishers.  That's the charm of basement pressed comics.

SPX certainly has its share of big names as well.  Jeff Smith brought in a large crowd of Boneville fanboys & girls of every age; it's so nice to see actual kids at a small press convention (Scholastic is doing its job).  Smith was also doing sketches inside of everyone's books, I was stoked to get that Rasl doodle.  He must have seen my giddy appreciation or I was just the lucky early bird in the line, because the cartoonist asked me if I could take his phone and snap some photos of the massive line wrapping the ballroom.  Of course I obliged!  I am happy to report that the man behind some of my all time favorite books (Bone, Rasl, Shazam) is a real sweetheart.  The other big line I braved was for Congressman John Lewis & Nate Powell.  Not a lot of chitchat there, but the Congressman granted a quick photo op, and it was a treat to meet a genuine historical figure.  Haven't cracked into March yet, but that's first up for next week.  Overall, this year's SPX was a smashing success and happily drained my wallet.

The Dark Knight Returns - The Complete Cut:  "I'm not finished yet."  Similar to my Watchmen experience, this cinematic adaption brought a new found appreciation for the source material.  Everyone in the comic book kingdom recognizes Frank Miller's The Dark Knight Returns as a masterpiece of sequential art, but since I entered the medium years after the initial release, I never quite saw the shine of its revered crown.  Is The Dark Knight Returns as good as Jeph Loeb's The Long Halloween or Grant Morrison's Batman Inc? Well, actually, after watching this DC Entertainment I'm pretty sure The Dark Knight Returns is the greatest Batman Story period.  I'll certainly need to revisit the graphic novel soon, but I am deeply in love with this interpretation.  Peter Weller's dogged and beaten dark knight detective is a savage warrior refusing to back into retirement even when good sense and big brother demand otherwise.  Forget fantasies of a cowled Clint Eastwood, Weller is The Dark Knight we've always wanted to see on screen.  The man carries so much regret and anger in his voice; it's impossible to think of anyone else uttering "This isn't a mudhole...it's an operating table.  And I'm the surgeon."  A ridiculous line of of 80s machismo that totally plays thanks to Weller's commitment.  The film contains the book's four act structure: Two-Face, Mutant Leader, Joker, Superman.  This sputtering screenplay might feel awkward to the uninitiated, but as the foils ratchet towards the Reagan Stooge showdown the narrative tightens around the viewer.  When Batman finally gets his hands around Superman's throat I felt a tremendous sense of triumph.  Screw that boy scout.  If Zach Snyder's Man of Steel sequel can only capture a tenth of that feeling then Batman vs Superman will be a rip roaring success.  And in the dark year that is 2013, The Dark Knight Returns is one of this year's very best films.

House (Criterion Spine # 539):  The punchy quote provided on the back of the box says "An episode of Scooby-Doo as directed by Mario Bava."  Close but not quite right.  House certainly has a zany cartoon vibe and features whacky geysers of red reminiscent of various Italian splatter artists, but the hijinks are injected with that Japanese French New Wave obsession.  House rubs shoulders with Tokyo Drifter.  You know, plus school girl munching pianos, dancing chopped up corpses, and spectral blood vomiting kitty cats.  Brooding giallo?  No.  But it's certainly a genre mixing bowl that spawned Sam Raimi's Evil Dead and at least a thirty or forty of Takashi Miike's mondo movies.

--Brad

Baltimore Comic-Con: looking in the rearview mirror, part 2

In the first part of my retrospective on exhibiting at this year’s Baltimore Comic-con, I went on about the fan-service aspect of the show.  The creators I finally got to meet, the books I got signed, the enjoyment I got from attending a “big” comic show for the first time in a number of years.  And it was a great time, on that front.  But how was the “professional” side of the convention?

Sales were soft, which is really downplaying how tepid our sales were.  And I saw a similar thing – a cone of silence expanding in a five-foot arc around the front of an exhibitor’s table – in a lot of areas of Artists Alley.  Which is not to say there weren’t some creators who did well here, especially the artists (with prints of zombies or Dr. Who, please, judging by the attendees).  We had high hopes for this show, and, admittedly, it was disappointing on the sales front.  It certainly seems our audience is at the Small Press Expo, which is usually held the weekend after Baltimore Comic-con just down the road in Bethesda, Maryland.  That said, this was a pretty great convention for me, as an aspiring writer.

Early on the first day, Chris Staros (one of the head honchos or Top Shelf Publishing) was walking through Artists Alley.  Recognizing me, he stopped to talk for a few minutes, commenting on the wealth of books we had on offer and asking specifically about the collections we had.  We discussed rejection letters and publishing and how the perception and the reality of both creating and publishing are very similar.  Staros is intelligent, frank, and overly generous with his time, and I’ve been having conversations like this with him since before Dan and I started writing seriously.  But since then, we’ve also been sharing our work with Staros, offering copies of our new works when we go to conventions and discussing what works and what doesn’t within our growing body of work.  Staros has seen us at these shows, has seen our growth as creators and is aware of our inability to give up on this “crazy dream.”  By continuing to create new stories, by setting up at these shows, by having these conversations with Staros in person and through email, we’ve fostered a relationship with him that may pay dividends down the road.  He knows we’re serious; he knows who we are; and I know that if I ever had a proposal I believed fit with the Top Shelf brand, Chris Staros would give it serious consideration.

That wouldn’t have happened if we’d given up after our first, disastrous time exhibiting.

Later on Saturday, another, smaller publisher (forgive me for being coy, but I am superstitious, to a point) came strolling through Artists Alley, right in front of my table.  I recognized him and called him over.  Turns our, he was walking this aisle because he knew I was set up in the area.  We’ve gotten to know one another through common online forums, as well as through setting up at smaller conventions these past few years.  I love what his new company is doing, as far as their publishing line, and he is another person with whom I’ve shared my newer stories whenever we were at the same convention.  We talked comics for a bit (at least at a comic convention you don’t need to come up with a pithy ice-breaker; we’re all there for the same thing), and then he third-eyed me (that’s how the kids put it nowadays, yeah?).  Looking to the future, he wondered if I’d be interested in talking with him about possibly working with his publishing company on a new venture they’re hoping to put forth toward the end of 2014 or into 2015, depending, as always, on how well the current scheduling stays on track.  Hell, yeah!  That conversation, right there, made my day.

This conversation and opportunity (one that doesn’t mean I will be working with them, but does mean I will have the opportunity to share my story ideas and maybe see something get published through them) was only possible because, again, I have continued to write – growing as a creator, as a result of this – and continued to get my stories drawn and fostered a relationship with this man.  Never would’ve happened if we’d given up after that first time in 2005.

So, after Saturday I was feeling pretty good.  Sunday only improved on that.  Joe Hill was going to be signing at the IDW booth that day, and I wanted to get a chance to speak with him for a minute.  When I went over to inquire about the logistics of the signing, I recognized the guy running the booth as someone who’d worked for Dark Horse when Dan and I exhibited at Chicago in 2005; he’d been the one handing out tickets for the Frank Miller signing that year.  So I asked him if he had worked for Dark Horse and then we chatted for a quick bit.  I mentioned that we were tabling as well and he told me to bring some of my work by to show him.  Not a fool, I made sure to get copies of both my give-away books for the Joe Hill line.  And after meeting Hill and speaking with him, I went back around and handed my books to the guy at the booth, who is the VP of marketing for IDW.  He thanked me and asked if I had his card.  No.  So he handed me his business card and told me to send along some digital copies so he could share them with the editorial staff.  Bam!  This, coupled with the Joe Hill signing (which is a great story but not pertinent to this “professional-centric” piece), had me feeling pretty damn good for a couple of hours.  Obviously, this doesn’t mean my epic graphic novel will be coming out from IDW in time for Christmas, nor does it mean I’m ever going to be published by IDW.  But my work will get a look from the editorial staff. 

And – I obviously cannot stress this enough – this opportunity would never have come about if I didn’t have a body of work to share with editors and publishers.  If Dan and I hadn’t been working toward exhibiting at a new show every year, I wouldn’t have been trying to produce new work and new stories.  I would never have gotten to the point I am now, where I am unable to not write.  It took a few years, but it has become a habit, something I really can’t live without because when I got a few days without writing, I become irritable and anxious.  It’s part of me, and I can see how far I’ve come since 2005, while realizing how far I still have to go.  But doors are opening, just a little.  And I need to be ready to take that step through.  Without having exhibited, without having written or created, without having gotten stories published (a result of those previous facts in this long statement), I wouldn’t be able to create these opportunities.  You have to do the work in order to improve, and you have to do the work in order to make your own luck. 

Now, the question becomes where to put my focus.  I know that SPX is the show where our audience is, and it’s the show where we have the most success sales-wise, and it is a show I love.  But there are very few publishers there, as compared to a show like Baltimore.  And with the reality that Dan and I can only do one show a year, along with where my life is at this point, being a “publisher” is not something we can pursue, and, truth be told, not something I want to pursue.  I want to find a publisher willing to get my stories into readers’ hands.  But do we get a table again, especially with Baltimore going to a three-day show?  Or do we choose to merely go as attendees and walk around with our books to share, as we see fit?  I’m not sure.  At least I’ve got some time to think about it.

Meanwhile, I’ll be writing – working toward creating more opportunities for myself.  It’s what I do.

-chris

(As always, you can read more from Chris at Warrior 27)

Brad's Week in Dork! (6/9/13-6/15/13)

I spent most of this week in my PJs, or at least cinematically wrapped in spandex.  Man of Steel marks Warner Brothers desperate attempt to capture that Marvel magic.  The company has been raking in Bat-Dollars, but they have yet to establish a superhero cinematic universe.  Stinkers like Green Lantern, Jonah Hex, and Catwoman portray a studio with its thumb stuck up its collective asses; a boardroom of nimrod headscratchers utterly baffled by the success of Disney's Avengers Assemblage.   Enter Zack Snyder, fresh off his disastrous snoozefest Sucker Punch, and just as equal to prove himself as the suits dropping him at the helm.  At its very least, Man of Steel throws a punch and delivers a level of action not yet seen cinematically from our boy blue.

Last year with the release of the blu ray box set, I revisited the Richard Donner Superman films, and I was saddened to discover that my nostalgia was not strong enough to battle the goof of Gene Hackman or the WTF of Supes's random, do-whats-needed Kryptonian powers.  Once I believed a man could fly, now I'm just simply charmed by the joyous energy of Christopher Reeve.  His back & forth performance nearly reaches the height of Frank Quietly's presto-changeo transformative design.  He achieves with a voice and a head tilt what no other actor ever bothered with before or since (oh, Brandon Routh...you tried...that's admirable...).  At the very least, what I pull from the Donner films is the loss of Christopher Reeve's talent.  He found stardom in a cape, nearly reached the stars agin with Deathtrap, but never could quite escape the shadow of the icon.  Reeve will always be Kal-El.  And Routh will always be his shadow.  Can Henry Cavil makes a career from the Man of Steel?  Maybe.  But I have my doubts.  He's certainly no Reeve, but is the world more willing to let actors shed their characters?  I'm still waiting for Chris Pine, Chris Hemsworth, and Chris Evans (that's a lot of Chrises!) to grow beyond their franchises.

There was other non-Kryptonian fun to be had this week.  Year 2 of our Ultimate Justice League of Extraordinary Book Club started with a tie-in Graphic Novel classic, All-Star Superman.  Some did not see the light, but I reevaluated my Top Ten Comics of All Time to include this masterful celebration of superheroics.  Grant Morrison & Frank Quitely deliver a revelation for the Man of Steel.  The Wife & I ventured into DC to see Marc Maron at the Sixth & I Synagogue.  A unique venue perfectly suited for the troubled rants of the WTF podcaster.  I struggled through the first season of The X-Files and witnessed the year's worst film On Demand...Black Rock....yeash.  But I also possibly saw my favorite film of the year......gulp, This Is The End. Really!?!?!? I enjoyed that film more than Iron Man 3 or Furious 6 or Before Midnight or Side Effects? Well, it's been a pretty bland year so far. A lot of decent stuff, but no real GREAT movies. This Is The End is certainly the film I had the most fun while watching. Super stupid. Happily offensive.  Joyously ignorant.  God Damn Funny.  Is it art?  Yeah.  Allow it.

Action Comics Volume 2 - Bulletproof:  This is not All-Star Superman.  And that's its greatest fault.  Not fair to judge a writer's current work to his absolute best, but All-Star's shadow is large and it cast a dark shade over everything found in Grant Morrison's New 52 work.  There are some solid moments to be found - "The Boy Who Stole Superman's Cape" and the elseworld adventures of President Superman - however, this second volume of Action Comics is just too disjointed to get on board.  And when halfway through the hardcover Grant Morrison disappears and we're tortured with mediocre backup stories.  Not cool DC.  Volume 1 was a meh.  Volume 2 is an easy pass.

Superman - The Movie:  How many times have I watched this film?  50?  100?  It certainly didn't define my childhood the way Star Wars or even Arnold Schwarzenegger did, but I can't remember a time when I was unaware of Christopher Reeve's Superman.  I remember my recorded VHS copy littered with filthy commercials eventually snapping under the strain of rewind.  I remember loving Superman's final subway assault on Lex Luthor's underground bunker.  I remember blushing at the bounce of Miss Teschmacher's cleavage.  Yowza.  As stated above, last year's blu ray rewatch tainted the childhood memory a bit.  I just can't handle Gene Hackman & Ned Beaty's goofy duo routine.  They feel false.  Superman falling for the lead box scheme is certainly lame.  And Margot Kidder's Lois Lane grates the nerves as cinema's whiniest damsel in distress...and her flygirl inner monologue?  Just gross.  A year later, revisiting the film with Man of Steel barreling down upon us, I still feel the pang of Hackman & Kidder.  They just don't work for me.  Christopher Reeve on the other hand?  The guy is just golden as Clark.  His midwest act is hilarious, and you realize what a perfect disguise it is for these big city Metropolis bozos - especially when Lois can't bare to pull her eyes from the typewriter.  And then he turns into the upright Superman.  He's all deep voice and barrel chest.  It's a great performance, and it's the reason the film has lasted in the memories of fanboys&girls. It's also the reason Superman continues in the public consciousness even when the comic book has sucked the life out of the character for decades.  Wal-Mart sells shirts cuz of this guy.

Superman II:  Ten years ago, Superman II would have landed in my Top Ten Comic Book Movies of all time list.  Either we've been blessed with far greater product, or I've finally pulled my head from the sand because I just hated it this go around.  Sure, I still love Terrance Stamp's beardy scenery chewing and his demand for kneeling.  And Christopher Reeve is utterly fantastic for all the reasons stated above.  But what is going on with this nutty powerloss story?  On one hand we've got Zod & his jumpsuit gang tearing apart middle America, and on the other we have the horrendously dull Niagara falls romance.  The American Way is burning to ashes and Superman is crying in a diner cuz a garbage eating truck driver just gave him a bloody nose.  The mid reel is painfully long and embarrassing to the character.  And the Fortress of Solitude powerloss machine is just as infuriating and laughable as Supes's time travel spin from the first film.  Also, what exactly are the Kryptonian powers?  Flight.  X-Ray Vision.  Super Strength.  Heat Ray.  Ok.  Got it.  Um....levitation...finger lasers....teleportation....S Logo Nets.....WHAT - THE - HELL?  The screenplay treats its audience as children.  And for the most part we ate it up.  But I'm done chowing down on Superman II.  I'm sure I'll continue to revisit the first film, but Donner's bastard boy is no longer for me.  Yes, even The Limey Zod can't keep me.

Marc Maron @ Sixth and I:  "Jews Are Special!"  On Tuesday night, The Wife & I ventured into Washington DC's Chinatown to see stand-up & podcaster extraordinaire Marc Maron read from his new essay collection, Attempting Normal.  I have never before seen anyone at the Sixth & I's historic synagogue, and it turns out to be a fantastic venue for something of this nature.  Sure, it's a little odd when Maron is ranting about how you don't need god to get sober when the Star of David hangs above his head, but the irony was not lost on him and he seemed to revel in it.  Maron shared the joys & horrors of the road, got personal about his father, and reminded the audience of the importance of Thanksgiving.  Marc Maron's talent rests in his ability to pull the crowd into the act.  This was not a simple dry reading like the dozens of Bestseller bouts I've experienced in the past.  He would read a little, ask a question to the crowd, offer a little commentary, and continue on with the essay.  Basically a Special Edition DVD experience of his book.  Very cool.

The X-Files - Season One:  This was probably the first television show that I ever obsessed over, but I had not revisited it since the final episode aired...well, with the exception of that horrid cinematic sequel  - yikes!  I quickly discovered that I couldn't binge watch The X-Files in the same manner as BSG, or Lost, or even Magnum P.I.  This show is wonky.  The chemistry between David Duchovny & Gillian Anderson is there from the pilot episode, but Chris Carter's antics are not nearly as thrilling as I once thought.  And there is a whole hell of a lot of filler in these 24 episodes.  I could not possibly care less about mysteries-of-the-week like "The Jersey Devil," "Ghost in the Machine," or "Fire."  So many of these concepts have been explored before in literature and film and often The X-Files can't even scratch the surface of what made the original material interesting.  That's not to say there's not good stuff here cuz there most certainly is - "Squeeze," "EVE," "Beyond the Sea," & "Darkness Falls" all offer up some pretty decent scares mixed with solid character work.  But I remember this show better.  And I'm hoping the next season shines brighter than this dull beginning.

Black Rock:  Wow.  Just wow.  I'm not sure what's worse - the utterly boring execution of a totally unoriginal screenplay, or the heinous scream acting of its three leads.  Whichever offense wins, the audience most certainly looses.  Kate Bosworth tricks her two bickering friends (Kate Aselton & Lake Bell) into a camping excursion on a remote island off the Maine coast.  There they encounter high school chums turned combat vets turned rapists.  Last House on the Left shenanigans occur from there - rocks in faces, sexual deviance at gunpoint, blah, blah, blah.  Black Rock is just the very worst of Final Girl exploitation, and just confused enough to believe itself empowering.  Wrong.

Superman Unbound:  Loosely based on Geoff Johns' Brainiac storyarc from Action Comics, this latest direct-to-dvder from DC Studios is simply fairly forgettable fluff.  The evil Kryptonian computer comes to Earth in an effort to dissect & bottle humanity; Superman gets all self-righteous before doing his whole smashing bit.  It's hard to believe that this studio can put out something as innovating & stunning as The Dark Knight Returns and The New Frontier, but still stoop to such a sophomoric snooze.  And I gotta wonder why Superman Beyond is sooooo free with the blood?  Brainiac is punching tentacles through skulls, gore splashing across the screen.  The story is too kiddy or simple to support the violence, and Lois Lane flipping Brainiac the bird is just silly.  This film feels very 90s; it belongs polybagged and wrapped in a chromium cover, read once, and put away for good.

Superman Unchained #1:  Speaking of the 90s....Scott Snyder & Jim Lee team up to revolutionize the Man of Steel just in time for his new movie.  Well, it's not terrible.  Someone or something is hurtling satellites towards Earth.  Supes goes up to space to smash.  But what does it all have to do with the nuclear destruction of Nagasaki?  Has the U.S. Government been secreting away it's own super human project for the past 75 years?  Well, of course it has!  I can't really hate on this issue, but it certainly failed to excite me.  Hopefully Snyder has some tricks up his sleeve because as nice as it is too gaze upon Jim Lee's art, that is certainly not enough to keep my interest.

Batman #21:  Scott Snyder & Greg Capullo's year long origin story starts here, and similar to Superman Uncahined, it's a wait and see situation.  I've said it before and I'm afraid I gotta say it again, Scott Snyder has pretty much lost me since the conclusion of The Court of Owls, and I'm afraid a Frank Miller Year One rehash is not enough to impassion my Bat-Nostalgia.  If Zero Year delves deeper into the mysterious dread of Gotham City's past than that might be a fun way to develop what was started with The Court, however, I'm worried this is just going to be another evil mastermind scheme.  The big bad revealed on the last pages here is not the shocker or the draw to boost my confidence in Snyder's dwindling run.  We will see...

This Is The End:  "Fuck Your House Franco!!!"  It sorta puzzles my noggin, but the pothead stoner comedy of Seth Rogen & Evan Goldberg seriously pulverizes my funny bone.  They did it before with Pineapple Express & Your Highness, and they do it again with this happily hateful satirization of Hollywood.  During James Franco's batshit-out-of-control housewarming party Revelation strikes and the narcissistic celebrities are left behind to face the Apocalypse.  We're talking sinkholes, burning Hollywood Hills, Old Scratch & his seven heads.  It's all in the title.  Seth Rogen & Jay Baruchel struggle with friendship as James Franco protects his hipster art from Danny McBride's uncontrollable masturbation.  Craig Robinson stands guard with his Teddy Bear flashlight Terrance Peterson, but Jonah Hill uses faith as a weapon only to pay the ultimate price - Rosemary's Baby style!  This Is The End is a gross, painful, stupid, and gleefully offensive religious assault.  Simply the most fun I've had at the movies this year.

All-Star Superman:  "You have given them an ideal to aspire to, embodied their highest aspirations.  They will race, and stumble, and fall and crawl and curse...and finally...they will join you in the sun, Kal-El."  Spoken by his father Jor-El, the above passage comes late in the graphic novel, but gets right to the heart of the character in a way that no other writer has ever come close to scratching.  As Matt stated in his review, Superman is not better than us, but he represents the potential of the human race.  He may have had good Kryptonion breeding, but it's his midwestern Apple Pie youth that shapes him into the concrete slab of morality we all admire.  With All-Star Superman, Grant Morrison & Frank Quitely plunge the depths of the 75 year old character and reach a final mission statement by exploring the end of Superman.  Along the way they celebrate the crazy of classic comics (Lois Lane - Super Woman! Atlas & Samson vs the Ultra Sphinx!  Doomsday Jimmy!  Zibarro the Bizarro Poet!) that will either alienate new readers or draw them in to the massive but joyful decades of continuity.  I've read All-Star Superman a half dozen time now, and it's safe to say that it ranks at the very top of my All Time Favorite Comics.  It is a classic, and the ultimate Superman experience.

Superman Returns:  "I'm always around."  I think it's pretty obvious that Bryan Singer's relaunch is too in love with Richard Donner's original film.  As fun as it is to hear John Williams's score or Marlon Brando's Jor-El, Superman Returns can never break free from the memory of a better movie.  And yes, Donner's Superman is far superior to this retread.  Obviously, a big problem is that Supes never throws a punch.  He lifts some stuff.  He bounces some bullets off his chest.  He flies real fast.  But that's about it.  Mostly he spends the film being super oogie creepy as he peeps in on Lois Lane & family.  Brandon Routh sure cuts a strong Christopher Reeve profile, but he's given very little to perform.  Kevin Spacey channels too much of the Hackman's Luthor, hamming his way through yet another real estate scheme. There really is only one moment to cherish, and that's Eve Marie Saint helplessly attempting to be near her son Clark as he lies poisoned in a hospital bed.  That's the closest this film comes to plucking a heartstring.

All Star Superman:  "It's time to get serious about killing Superman."  Stripping away a lot of the crazy side stories, and struggling to maintain the philosophy of Grant Morrison's original novel, the All-Star Superman animated film succeeds more often than if flounders.  Lex Luthor boobytraps a mission to explore the sun, and successful poisons Superman's cellular structure.  Supes has one year to live, and he must attempt to leave the planet Earth in strong standing as well as say goodbye to the one woman he's ever loved.  There is still plenty of heart and morality in the film, but there's no fooling that this is first and foremost an action cartoon.  The Parasite prison breakout is certainly the hightlight, but I'm also stunned at how well they were able to pull off the climactic world eater battle.  Not quite the genius of the comic book, but All-Star Superman still feels like the most solid adaptation of the character.

Watchmen:  I am an Alan Moore fan.  I read comics, so I have to be.  However, I've never been than much of a Watchmen freak.  Frankly, I'll take From Hell, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Tom Strong, Promethea, and Swamp Thing any day over Watchmen.  Blashpemy you say...oh well.  That is until I saw Zack Snyder's film.  Yes, I did not appreciate the story until I saw it on the big screen.  There is a coldness to the performances as well as Snyder's fetishizing camera, but it all pretty much fits the tone of Alan Moore & Dave Gibbons' post-modern sendup.  Jackie Earl Haley's Rorschach is probably the easiest performance to love, his guttural "Hurms" of contempt almost as pleasurable as the dead delivery in which he dispatches justice.  With each new Silver Screen Superhero we see, Watchmen becomes more and more relevant.  Double Bill this with Joss Whedon's The Avengers and you've gotta a helluva night.  It's still a hate letter directed at Thatcher/Reagan politics, but it's nice (or utterly depressing) to see that these issues are still ripe for ribbing to this day.  And I don't miss the Squid.  Fanboys go on raving, but Snyder's ending feels sound with the setting he erected.  After Watchmen, Snyder could have made ten more Sucker Punches, and I would have been perfectly happy with his career.

Superman vs. The Elite:  This short film attempts to address the godhood of Superman, and the consequence of his heroics.  A punk rock super being known as Manchester Black is tired of giving bad guys second chances.  How many times can Lex Luthor break out of jail and kill dozens of people before Superman drops him in a volcano.  Black is disgusted by Kal-El's snooty ethics, and with the aide of his mutant goonsquad, he's gonna right Big Blue's wrongs.  There is an interesting idea here, and I would be curious to read the source material.  However, the film itself is far too banal.  The animation boring.  The voice work tepid.  About the only aspect of this movie that I liked was the opening credits seen below.  Silly punk rock.

Man of Steel:  "This Man Is Not Our Enemy."  There is a lot to enjoy about this Christopher Nolan Production of a Zack Snyder Film.  The opening twenty minutes are a sci-fi feast of Krypton.  This is not the Ice Castle set of the Donner film or the CG mystery of television's Smallville.  David Goyer's script establishes an alien landscape with its own government, status structure, and wildlife.  Russell Crowe's Jor-El is a desperate scientist beating upon the arrogant certitude of his people.  The Birth of Kal-El is as important to the Krypton people as it will most obviously be for the citizens of Earth.  These are ideas explored previously in the comics, but will most likely come as huge surprises for modern movie going audiences.   Jor-El's final moments with his wife & son before the rocket launches into space are heartthumping, and I was moved to tears before the prologue could even finish.

Screenwriter Goyer pretty much mimics the structure he used so well in Batman Begins, hopping from Clark Kent's present day hoboing to his childhood farmland memories.  If it ain't broke don't fix it, and I appreciated the loose storytelling as opposed to the A to B origin building.  However, my problems start to arise with The Kents.  Kevin Costner's Pa is another strong father figure and he mirrors well with Crowe's space daddy, but I found his fear - or distrust - of man to be unsettling.  Pa Kent is The American Way.  His staunch ethics and middle American nature should instill a faith in humanity not dread.  And his inevitable end handled in the film robs Clark of the lesson of human frailty.  It's a Marvel Comics moment, an Uncle Ben, and not the big universe idea of DC Comics.

Whereas the last cinematic adventure was afraid to throw a punch, Man of Steel is almost all action.  From the moment Michael Shannon's Zod arrives on Earth, Superman is caught in one fiery explosion or another.  Smallville, IHOP, and Metropolis have never seen so much devastation...in fact, has an American city ever been as punished as much as Metropolis is here in Man of Steel's final moments?  A lot has been made of the destruction, but honestly, other than it droning on for a bit too long, I really enjoyed seeing two super beings bash the living hell out of one another.  If two creatures of this godlike strength ever came into contact with each other, our cities would certainly crumble.  It's a politically correct post-9/11 world, but at the end of the day, this is just a movie and Comic Book flicks demand Comic Book Destruction. But maybe Superman, you could hold off your Lois Lane smooches until you step out of the crater made from human ash.

Warner Brothers & Zach Snyder are certainly in love with Nolan's Dark Knight trilogy.  The director apes a lot of that film's style and goes a little too crazy with the handheld photography.  But if you pop a couple of dramamine, your body will eventually adjust to the woozy movement, and you might even find yourself enjoying the digital theatrics of Superman's punch-ups.  It's long, and there are quibbles to be had for folks who obsess over spandex, but I'll allow Man of Steel the title of best live-action Superman film (All-Star, yer still tops).

300:  "Tell Xerxes that he faces free men here!"  I was so taken aback by Zack Snyder's Paul Greengrass turnaround in Man of Steel that I wanted to return to the film that made him the mockery of hipster haters everywhere.  I so love Frank Miller's 300.  It's jingoistic, absurdly exploitative, historically embarrassing, and utterly entertaining.  And Snyder shoots it warts and all.  Gerard Butler is the proud King Leonidas, ruler of the Spartan people, defier of false gods, and champion messenger punter.  Everyone involved refuses to bat an eye.  300 succeeds because it's earnest almost up to the point of hilarity, and it's one of the few films to use cgi as an artistic choice rather than an escape route.

JAWS 3D:  "You're talking about some damn shark mother?!?!"  Steven Speilberg's JAWS is one of my all time favorite films (number 5 to be precise), and it's the blockbuster turning point that paved the way for Transformers & Battleships.  But before we could get to the current summer climate, we all had to suffer through the bastardization known as the Jaws sequels.  Seriously, is there a worst film franchise out there?  I dare you to pit The Texas Chainsaw Massacres against Jaws - The Revenge or this beautifully wretched 3D excursion.  Of course, that being said, I had an absolute blast at The Alamo Draft House last week.  Chomping down on Fish & Chips while basking in the Sea World glory of the Spanish Galleon was a real hoot.  Dennis Quaid is a rather impotent leading man struggling to steal the frame from a pair of dolphins (don't worry, he does better in Dreamscape & Inner Space), and Louis Gossett Jr holds a cut like his life depends on it...which it most certainly does!  The very notion that this is the fishy runoff of the perfect popcorn confection that launched America's most beloved filmmaker is completely baffling.

Flex Mentallo - Man of Muscle Mystery:  "Acid, all day, every day...."  I think to fully appreciate this graphic novel you need to also read Grant Morrison's comic book history lesson, Supergods.  I certainly didn't understand this drug fueled nightmare of funny pages insanity until I experienced Morrison's peyote awakening in the outskirts of Nepal.  Flex Mentallo is a fictionalized icon of the four color form who sometimes breaks into our reality when his suicidal creator slips into coma rants.  Yeah, I don't know what that means either.  Flex is our "Hero of the Beach," an Atlas strongman investigating the reappearance of an old chum simply known as The Fact.  Along the way he senses the hand of his creator, discovers the pleasures of spandex sex bars, and contemplates complex issues of gender & sexuality after being exposed to Pink Mentallium...Yeah, this ain't your daddy's comics.

Your Highness:  Danny McBride's pothead appreciation for shitty 80s fantasy films a la Barbarian Queen, The Warrior & The Sorceress, Death Stalker, and Death Stalker 2.  And I love it.  Which seems to be the minority opinion, but all you haters out there obviously don't understand the subtleties of horrendous ADR ("Jumping!") or "Punch & Twist" puppets.  James Franco has never been more dense or adorable as McBride's much beloved brother Prince Fabious, and I'll take this dimwitted nimrod any day over Blockbuster paychecks like Oz The Great & Powerful or Rise of the Planet of the Apes.  Not sure what Natalie Portman is doing in this movie, but she does add to the overall absurdity to the film, and her theatrical delivery of potty mouth insults makes schoolboys giggle.  And let's not forget the confidence of a good butt shot, putting many an ass in seat.  Like their other collaborations, Your Highness is joyfully dumb and gleefully violent.  But it's a special brand of base fanboy humor that I certainly endorse.  So, grab your Blade of Unicorn & swing for the Minotaur's johnson!

Shoot First, Die Later:  Fernando De Leo enjoys the pain and absurdity of violence.  He's Italian.  They know how to do death.  Shoot First, Die Later is the story of good cop turned vigilante after the mob attempts to hook him into their payrole.  That old tune.  It succeeds in its perverse enjoyment of violence, and manages to up the ante with each gonzo set piece.  None of these actors are taking home the SAG award, but Luc Merenda has mastered the stern face and when he sets his sights on his gangster prey you believe his passion for strangleholds.  This film is getting a lot of love on the internet these days, but I don't think it's as punishing or as delightful as De Leo's Live Like A Cop, Die Like A Man, which was released earlier last year.

--Brad