Showing posts with label Hawkeye. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hawkeye. Show all posts

Friday, September 5, 2014

DC Nations Shorts - Is Green Arrow Cool?


As much as I've detested the latest batch of DC Animated's feature films, I've really enjoyed the DC Nation shorts that have aired on Cartoon Network (or more accurately, YouTube).  The 75th Anniversary Batman 'toons are flat out incredible, while the Animal Man & Shazam bits have been just big buckets of win.  Their latest subject appears to be Green Arrow.  Sigh.  DC Comics has been trying real damn hard to make Oliver Queen a top tier character of late.  They brought on Jeff Lemire to script the issues (he just left, but I can honestly say that for the first time ever, Lemire made Green Arrow a regular monthly for me), and the WB's constant assault of magazine man-ads for Arrow are lifelessly off-putting.  Folks tell me that show's decent these days, but I just have a hard time buying into the trick arrow guy.  Yet, on the Marvel side, I regularly enjoy Hawkeye's appearances in Secret Avengers, Deadpool, and his own monthly.  What's the deal?  I think it has something to do with sense of humor.  The coolest & most serious version of Green Arrow for me happened when he popped up in Frank Miller's The Dark Knight Returns; when he helped Old Man Wayne kick Superman's ass.  Old.  Cranky.  One-armed tough dude.  But I've been meaning to finally crack into Neal Adams & Denny O'Neal's Green Lantern/Green Arrow comic.  So maybe now's the time.  Guess all the publicity is working.









--Brad

Monday, April 21, 2014

Dork Art: Mike Mitchell's Marvel Portraits


This afternoon Time Magazine unveiled another set of portraits from Mike Mitchell's Mondo Gallery Show (opening this Friday in Austin - the lucky bastards!), and they are absolutely & utterly perfect.  The Hulk is the tops for sure; Mitchell expertly captures that cromag forehead accentuating the green meanie's dim bulb rage.  But I also love Loki's contemptuous glazed expression, Doc Ock's maniacal grin, and Bullseye's psycho eyes.  Luke Cage?  He's all confidence & sideburns.  I really hope prints of these Avengers are available soon so that I can fight the internet into frustrated bliss as I click, click, click, click to no avail.  Seems like the only luck I'm having at scoring Mondo prints these days is on the secondary market.  An old story, but still it rankles.







Friday, May 3, 2013

A Fistful of Marvel Wannabes! (Brad's Picks)


Phase 2 of the Marvel Cinematic Universe begins this weekend with the release of Shane Black's Iron Man 3.  It's a brave new world.  One that's going to include The Guardians of the Galaxy, Ant-Man, & Doctor Strange.  W.  T.  F.   Yes, 2014 is going to see Rocket Raccoon blast onto the big screen and if he's received well by the public than we might be entering an unstoppable black hole of super hero cinema.  Of course, that's a big "IF" and we may still be a long way off till a proper Howard The Duck adaptation.


Iron Man 3, Thor 2, Captain America 2, and Avengers 2 are sure fire successes.  But let's just say they're joined by The Guardians of the Galaxy, Ant-Man, & Dr. Strange.  Where do you go from there.  I say, let's get nuts.  Maybe we hold off a bit till we break out the D-Man blockbuster, but I've got a handful of other crazy characters I'd like to see get the Hollywood treatment.


5.  The Pet Avengers:  Yes, they exist.  When the Inhuman's teleporting dog Lockjaw acquires the Mind Gem from the all powerful Infinity Gauntlet, he gathers a colorful cadre of super pets to seek out the remaining gems while avoiding the terrifying violence of The Mad Titan, Thanos.  The team includes the X-Men confidant Lockheed, Speedball's feline counterpart Hairball, the central park Thunder amphibian Throg, the falcon Redwing, and Aunt May's Ms. Lion.  Special Guest Stars could include the Savage Land's Zabu, Bo the First Dog of the United States, and the Fantastic Four beastie Giganto.  Look, Disney needs to partner Marvel with Pixar.  It's just gotta happen.  DC Comics has had plenty of success with the Direct to DVD animated market, and even if we can't be granted the glory of Pixar, maybe we can get a solid cartoon out of the deal.


4.  Namor - The Submariner:  Since Captain America didn't quite capture the Nazi threat of WWII, let's travel back to the battlefields of the 1940s where Prince Namor can rise from the Earth's oceans to smash Hitler's blitzkrieg domination.  And the best thing about Namor is that when he's done crushing Nazis he's going to inevitably turn on the Allies.  After all his finest characteristic is his hatred and contempt for all land lovers, and through that anger we can get some delightful rage-filled social lecturing.  Once Adolf gets his Inglourious Basterds just deserts and Namor turns tidal waves upon our shores, the good old U S of A can unleash their Human Torch (of the android variety - never mind the flaming Fantastic Fourer) and the two titans of Marvel's Early Days can go mano y mano in a Kaiju-styled flattening of New York City.


3.  Hawkeye:  This is not a cheat.  As much as I love Joss Whedon's Avengers, Jeremy Renner's Hawkeye was easily the most disposable character in the film.  He spent most of the time under the control of Loki & when he finally got free from the pokey stick, Hawkeye spent the rest of the film looking stern as he shot arrows at jet skiing aliens.  The Hawkeye film I want to see stems directly from Matt Fraction & David Aja's current comic series.  Focus on the wannabe hero when he's not being an Avenger.  The guy who passes his time as super of an apartment building, fighting back the small time crime of the track suit mafia, and caring for a pizza scarfing dog.  The great thing about the Marvel Universe is that it can house multiple genres, even within the capes & masks.  Hawkeye is your 90s, quirky post Pulp Fiction crime tale a la 2 Days in the Valley.  And since Marvel doesn't shy away from recasting let's kick Renner outta the picture and bring in Ryan Gosling.  Hmmmm...while I'm dreaming why not bring back Shane Black from Iron Man 3 for the snarky buddy cop banter with teenage sidekick Kate Bishop.


2.  Devil Dinosaur:  Ok, this is just a fantasy.  But you know, before you start saying this will never happen remind yourself that ROCKET RACCOON! will soon be a theatrical reality - a talking raccoon from space who kills aliens with an array of laser rifles!!!!  Dammit, Devil Dinosaur & Moon Boy can happen!  This is not an animated film.  I want a dark, brooding, dead serious Quest For Fire saga.  Sure, that's not really what we got in the original nine issues from Jack Kirby, but I've been on a 2001 kick lately and it's got me craving the savagery of ape men.  Devil Dinosaur could sate that thirst, a boy & his dog story in which DD & Moon Boy go up against the warring clan of the Killer-Folk.  This is goofy stuff, but with Pacific Rim nearly upon us & and a new Godzilla on the horizon, I want Marvel to contribute their Monster Mash movie.


1.  Luke Cage:  Marvel's somewhat pathetic attempt to cash in on the Blaxploitation phenomenon eventually yielded one of their most endearing characters thanks to Brian Michael Bendis's exploration in the pages of Alias & New Avengers.  You look at that picture above and you see a goofy dude in disco duds fighting a ridiculous atomic abomination.  But the Luke Cage film should be a brutal, mean-spirited crime flick.  Think Chinatown PI plot with a 70s Hell Up In Harlem backdrop, and a neighborhood gang war poisoning the citizens with sex & drugs.  Luke Cage encounters some small time crime that leads to Kingpin conspiracies and eventual street fighter showdowns.  Fred Williamson is a few decades too old , but I'm thinking Michael Jai White can shake the comedy of Black Dynamite and step into the real deal.


--Brad

Thursday, April 25, 2013

Brad's Week In Dork! (4/14/13-4/20/13)

"D'Artagnan, motherfuckers!" by Mike Mitchell

This week finished the first wave of Scorsese flicks.  All solid movies, but I find myself even more excited to get deeper into his career.  Beyond Raging Bull & Goodfellas - I want the glitz & shine of the DiCaprio collaborations.  Does that have more to do with the material (after all Gangs of New York, The Departed, & Shutter Island are far from perfect creations) or the presence of Calvin Candie? The Tuesday release of Django Unchained pretty much took over my week.  I watched a good batch of cinema, but Django currently owns my heart.  After scouring the shopping strip wasteland, I grabbed all three of the exclusives (Wal-Mart, Best Buy, & Target) and spent all of Tuesday drooling over the rather crappy special features.  Target's Steelbook is the obvious winner, but only cuz of it's superior artwork.  The extra discs are pathetic.  However, I stand by my 2012 proclamation, and I'll go one step further in labeling Django Unchained as my absolute favorite Quentin Tarantino flick.  Jackie Brown, I love you, but it's time to stand aside.  


Trance:  "To be angry is to be a victim." Danny Boyle returns to crime cinema with this semi-successful headtrip mystery. James McAvoy steals a Goya painting for gang boss Vincent Cassel. But somewhere in the action there's a switch and McAvoy takes a serious thwack on the noggin. Amnesia time. Grrrgh. One of those flicks, huh. But where fingernail torture fails, Rosario Dawson's slippery hypnotist succeeds. Convoluted with reveals on top of reveals, Trance still manages to be just that - an engrossing bit of flimflam coated in rage and sex.  Who knew pubic hair could be used as a plot device?!?  I'm still not won over to the McAvoy camp, but I certainly appreciated his characters' spiraling arc.  And I'm already a big fan of both Cassel & Dawson. Those two are rarely awarded the opportunity to strut this much on film and that's enough for a recommend.


Mean Streets:  Three films in and Martin Scorsese has completely solidified his style. Depending on which interview you read from the director, Mean Streets is a spiritual or literal sequel to Who's That Knocking At My Door.  "Remake" feels the more appropriate term. But semantics are semantics. Scorsese has more money, more talent, and a more expensive soundtrack. Harvey Keitel is back as Charlie, a collector for his neighborhood big shot Uncle. He's small time and is far too meek for the racket. Robert De Niro is Johnny Boy, a psychotic animal hopelessly doomed to talk his way into his own destruction. Try as he might, Charlie never has a hope of saving his friend from the inevitable. Scorsese's camera is beautifully fluid. He's got the long cutless dollies of Hitchcock, but the freedom of his own inventive savvy - the way he plants Keitel on a floating dance floor or the way he mounts the camera on Keitel himself, as he boozily stumbles into unconsciousness. And then you've got the violence. It's rare, quick, and chaotic. Just like in Boxcar Bertha, when the unstoppable finally arrives at Johnny Boy, the event is still somehow shocking.  Painful.  Tragic.


Mallrats:  Twenty years ago I saw genius where I now see banality. It's a brave new geek world out there, and The Big Bang Theory aggressively mines this territory every week. The script lacks the biting wit found underneath the retail misery of Clerks, and despite a few more bucks, it's painful to witness Kevin Smith's inability to move the frame. Sure, there are still some kernels of geeky glory - Jedi mind tricks, Superman's shotgun sperm, and Stan Lee's epic monologue of romance, but it's mostly chuckles & smiles rather than full on belly laughs.  Jason Lee is disgustingly charming as the alpha comic nerd, but the 90s TV actors surrounding him struggle to find the truth in Smith's reference heavy dialog.


Homicide - Life on the Street Season 4:  "This is not a perfect world, Al.  It's Baltimore."  Another excellent season for the Murder Police.  Frank Pembleton continues his crusade of righteousness, but I was struck by how much of a introspective loser his partner Tim Bayliss can be when placed under Frank's microscope.  Tim started out as the gateway character of the show, but over the course of its 7 seasons & one TV Movie, Kyle Secor's mopey creation morphed into the saddest sack in the squadron.  And this is the season where his downfall begins.  The Adena Watson killing stills weighs heavy on his conscience, his sexuality is confronted while investigating a skin head hate crime, and he even questions his purpose while manning a stakeout.  When I originally experienced this show on the boob tube, Tim was easily one of my favorite characters.  But knowing his outcome, and seeing him fail in his dialog battles with Pembleton, I kinda hate the guy now.  His moral investigations actually expose a weakness in his character.  He is not the knight in shining armor he so desperately wants to be - he's a fool masquerading in costume.  His quandaries are manifestations of his cracking soul, and he really has no business speaking for the dead.    


Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore:  "What's with this broad?" After her husband dies in a truck accident, Ellen Burstyn sells her earthly belongings, packs her son into the car, and heads across America in search of the happiness she once had in Monterey (visualized at the start of the film as a Wizard of Ozish Hollywood dreamscape, but laced with childish potty mouth bluster). Lack of funds force stops along the way. She encounters Harvey Keitel's terrifying switchblade husband, stands by her new man Kris Kristofferson, and drops anchor at a diner destined for sitcom reruns. Burstyn practically made a career out of mother roles (The Last Picture Show, The Exorcist, Requiem for a Dream), but Alice is her ultimate work. Her relationship with her 12 year old brat is simultaneously frustrating and utterly sweet. Alfred Lutter might pull off the greatest child performance I've ever seen - he manages to be frustratingly foul, ready for a smack, and also totally understandable. This kid is trapped in the genetics and teachings of his mother, and she in turn is imprisoned by her spawn. The fact that Kristofferson doesn't buckle under their baggage, but craves their presence is a serious indication of genuine love, even when he's gotta deliver a thwack. Question: "Is Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore still part of the cinematic conversation?" Given that this film has never come up in the millions of movie chats I've had throughout my life, I'm guessing the answer is "No." Which is just not right. This film is one of the finest screenplays Martin Scorsese has ever handled. It definitely appears to be outside his wheelhouse, but it's also obvious that he understands the failings of dreams and the fight that everyday people have in order to incorporate those dreams into the ordinary of their day to day lives. I think it's one of his finest works.


Django Unchained:  "He walks through hellfire because Brunhilda is worth it."  I've watched the film five times now.  (Minor Spoilers Follow) And as easy as it is to be swept away by the scenery chomping performances of Leonardo DiCaprio, Christoph Waltz, and Samuel L Jackson, I think it's a great disservice to ignore the work of Jaime Foxx.  If you compare & contrast the first image you see of Foxx (Django as slave, downtrodden, brutalized, and being dragged across the Texas desert) with the last image (Django as FDR - American Badass, pimped out in Candie's attire, end zone showboating with his horse), you see a grande heroic arc worthy of the classical sagas the film desperately strives to emulate.  And the arc is achieved through Foxx's soulful performance.  Sure, a lot of that is accomplished through script & direction; Tarantino guides him from quiet Bounty Hunter student to violent crusader  - the killer of John Brittle & the wrath of God via the destruction of Candyland.  But Foxx excels in the quiet moments as much as the bits of bravado.  You fall in love with him & his Homeric quest as he sits, childlike, listing to King Schultz's mythic campfire tales.  Then, when he stands angry & proud in his ridiculously blue valet suit, Foxx excels in that transformation into avenger.  However, another aspect I don't read much about is his damnation on the road to Blaxploitation Badass.  His masquerade as the black slaver, those sunglasses plastered on his face during the mutilation of Dartanian.  He not only forfeits his own soul, but makes King Schultz complacent in the murder as well when he forces Schultz's pocketbook back into his pocket.  It's an action that leads Schultz to his own fate.   As great as it is to witness Django's triumph at the fiery climax, I find myself aching at the evil committed along the way.  It's that ache that elevates Django Unchained to the very top of my favorite Tarantino films.  You may complain about the meandering pace (I certainly don't, I love the stop & restart final 30 minutes) and you may squirm at the subject matter and the violence splashing on the Big House walls, but Django Unchained is not absent of morality.  Love costs as much as vengeance.  In the end is it worth it?  For Django (and the husband writing this sentence), damn right.


Taxi Driver:  "Are you a scorpion?"  Who was Travis Bickle before this film starts, and who will he be after the credits roll?  The answer post-credits is certainly more interesting than the pre-credits answer.  The film depicts a few days in the life of a man slowly reaching insanity on the nightmarish streets of Times Square.  When we meet Bickle his mind is filled with hatred for the filth around him - humanity.  He can't sleep.  He takes to hacking to fill the hours.  He encounters one blonde goddess in the form of Cybil Shepherd, but when his impossible porno date goes obviously catastrophic, he sets out to assassinate her politician boss.  His impotence, sadly or thankfully, extends to political killings and he's forced to thrust his violence towards the scum closer to his level.  Harvey Kietel's Sport is the chucklehead pimp with a leash on the broken doll Jodie Foster.  She's not the goddess, but she'll do in a pinch - a damsel he can rescue from the pit of the city.  Taxi Driver is a draining, oppressive little picture.  The type of picture that rules your Best Of lists in high school & college, but one that has waned a touch in my heart.  Don't get me wrong.  It's a brilliant movie.  A thick coat of sadness.  But as I find myself in my 30s, I don't respond as strongly to its dark heart as I once did.  The real treat is rediscovering the lead performance.  Watching the trailer for the latest Robert De Niro paycheck (The Big Wedding) it's hard to remember a time when Bobby D kicked serious ass in front of the camera.  Then you pop in Taxi Driver and "Oh Yeah," De Niro is a beast for drama.


The Last Waltz:  If you are a fan of The Band, do you love this documentary or do you hate it?  I am not a fan.  I barely like the performers that make guest appearances on their farewell stage.  What?  Brad, you don't like Dylan, Clapton, or Young?  I'm not saying that.  Their music is just so iconic that it has existed as "Classic" rock for so long in my brain that they illicit absolutely no emotional response other than technical respect.   And the subjects themselves are just so damn tired on screen.  Their interviews painfully dismissive.  They're done with the road.  They want off.  Fascinating.  But joyless. And not a fun watch.


Hawkeye - My Life As A Weapon:  Friday night was our 11th meeting of The Ultimate Justice League of Extraordinary Book Club.  Half the group enjoyed Hawkeye, and the other half was fairly dismissive.  Reading Matt's review, I feel like I have to defend Matt Fraction & David Aja's hipster masterpiece, but I think the book is the best defense - and frankly, it doesn't need defending as the entire comic book community has pretty much agreed that it's genius.  To say that Clint Barton is one of my least favorite Marvel creations is not quite accurate.  The purple Avenger barely registered on my radar before My Life As A Weapon.  I remember when Bendis killed him off in Avengers: Disassembled and I was utterly perplexed by the internet outcry.  Who gave two rats asses about Hawkeye pre-Bendis?  Certainly not me.  And when all that bonkers (stupid) business with the House of M brought Barton back as Ronin......zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.  I can't even muster the energy to hate on the goofy Marvel Event nonsense .  They're their own brand of comic book crazy.  I only picked up the first couple of issues of Fraction's run cuz Big Planet Comics wouldn't shut up about it, and it really wasn't until the third issue, with its arrow lampooning, that I got hooked.  Early on Fraction cleverly rifts on Hawkeye's ridiculous placement on the A-Team ("I'm an orphan raised by carnies fighting with a stick from the Paleolithic era") and focuses his crusader with the routine setting of an apartment building. Dr. Doom is not gonna be a problem.  Instead, beware the track suit Bros & maybe some scuffle on the fringes of the Kingpin's organization.  The real fun stems from the banter.  Comparisons to Joss Whedon are not far off, but it's also not as cringing or saccharine as that polished wit can be.  You've got the wonderfully awkward friendship with Kate Bishop, a mess load of bass ackwards sexual encounters, and my new favorite Pet Avenger, Pizza Dog.  Aja's half of the book is far cooler and sexier than Pulido's, but I kinda dig his Clowesy indie faces.  Hawkeye is not epic comic book storytelling.  But it's charming, sweet, and badass from time to time.  Curious to see what hell these bumbling Bros are going to unleash, and how Wilson Fisk will handle the pest that is Clint Barton.  Easily one of the most enjoyable books currently on the stands.  


Swamp Thing - Raise Them Bones & Family Tree:  With the good bit of enjoyment being achieved in Scott Snyder's current Batman run, I thought it about time I got acquainted with his interpretation of everyone's favorite veggie monster.  Despite a befuddling appearance of Superman in the first issue (linking Alec Holland to The New 52), Raise Them Bones is an excellent continuation of the mythology defined by Alan Moore's Saga.  But it's little more than a reminder of what makes this character so damn cool.  The story doesn't find it's real footing until Family Tree, where Holland accepts his mantel of The Green and takes on the invading forces of The Rot.  Yannick Paquette's art draws a beautiful beastie, and I love the addition of Swampy's barky crown.  But as much as I dig Paquette, when Francesco Francavilla drops in for a guest-spot I instantly wanted him for a replacement.  His Swamp-Thing is a sad, beautiful figure.  Less the beast and more the plant.  A higher compliment, I do not know.  Snyder's book certainly doesn't match that of Moore's, but it's fun enough and I'm happy to see this character once again get a proper place in the DC Universe.  And I am even more excited to see how this book fits into Jeff Lemire's recent Animal Man.


--Brad

Monday, April 22, 2013

Comic Review: Hawkeye



    The pantheon of superheroes is littered with exceptionally lame characters.  Characters with no cool, with goofy costumes, lame powers, or what have you.  For every Black Panther there’s a Sleepwalker.  For every Joker there’s a Crazy Quilt.  Personally, I’ve never thought much of The Flash or Cyclops, for example.  Lobo and Wolverine have their fans, but just seem like the worst 13 year old boy fantasies to me.  But two of the lamest characters among the Big Two’s cast of heroes have to be the archers.  Green Arrow and Hawkeye.  Come on!  First off, Green Arrow looks stupid in his Robin Hood costume and his blond goatee.  And he’s such a tool.  Hawkeye looks like a purple Wolverine with that silly mask of his.  And the only thing that makes him less obviously lame than Green Arrow is that nobody ever gave two craps about him, so he was never an important character.  Then somebody cast that Jeremy Renner guy all the girls are into (what’s up with women being so into goofy looking dudes?) and suddenly Hawkeye gets his own comic series.  Before Avengers hit theaters, do you know how many people in the entire world named Hawkeye as their favorite comic characters?  Zero.  Afterward, all the Whedon/NewWho girls were instant mega-fans.  Come on!

Dr. Doom is quaking.

    So then I start hearing people say, ‘hey, this Hawkeye comic is pretty good.’  To which I would then say, ‘whatever, dude,’ confidently brushing off  such silly sentiment.  But because of the graphic novel club I belong to, I finally relented and read the first collected volume.  And yeah, it’s pretty good, I guess.  Step one in making it not suck was getting him out of that dumbass costume.  Even his post-movie look is lame, but nothing compared to the original.  Step two, get him away from the Avengers.  Like Batman in the Justice League, Hawkeye goes with the Avengers like pralines and horse testicles.  In tabletop role playing games, there was a lot of thought put into ‘play balance.’  Groups of characters might be wildly different, but as a general rule they should average out to about the same.  Hawkeye shoots arrows.  He’s standing next to the Hulk (an ever growing engine of rage that is virtually unstoppable), Captain America (a super-soldier engineered to be the ultimate extant of human ability), Iron Man (a super-genius in an ultra-advanced mech-suit), and others.  Hawkeye shoots arrows.  He shoots arrows!  He’s fighting Doctor Doom, Thanos, Skrulls, and all sorts of crazy things and he shoots motherf&%$ing ARROWS!!!  (In case you’re not keeping up on current events, people figured out good ways to protect themselves from arrows like 500 years ago!).  The only thing lamer than that would be throwing playing cards.  And that’s just too stupid for words; they’d never do something that dumb.  So, getting him away from the Avengers was a good idea.  Like the early Brubaker run on Captain America, and his run on Winter Soldier, Matt Fraction gets Hawkeye away from the nutty, over the top kind of stuff the weirder characters and super-teams get into, and deals more with espionage/crime kinds of things.  The stuff a guy shooting arrows might actually have a chance to deal with.


    Hawkeye (aka Clint Barton) is a wisecracker.  I hate wisecrackers, mostly because they’re typically written poorly.  Cracking wise involves a difficult balance between being funny and being an A-hole.  I’ll give Fraction this, he manages to strike that balance in this volume.  Barton is funny, without being too funny or two annoying.  It doesn’t feel as forced as Joss Whedon often does (hey, I love Firefly and the first couple Buffy seasons were good, but the guy has writing issues…sorry, he does).  I think, ultimately it keeps the reader at a distance as much as other characters, though.  By the end of the volume, I didn’t feel like I knew who this Barton guy was at heart.  There’s a ‘twist’ at one point (the secret video tape) that feels like it should have emotional resonance, but I don’t know that I’d have felt any different about the guy had the ‘twist’ not happened.  The dialog works better than expected and the story is fine.  But at the end of the day, I didn’t come away caring about Hawkeye.  If anything, other-Hawkeye, Kate Bishop seemed like a bit more of a ‘character,’ though she’s hardly developed either.  I guess the reader is supposed to already be well versed in the mythology, so they already know everybody’s deal.  But for this infrequent Marvel reader, that isn’t the case.  For example, I didn’t understand who Bishop was until the extra issue of Young Avengers that rounds out this volume.  Oh, she’s the ‘new’ Hawkeye…because the original Hawkeye was comicbook-dead for a while.  OK.

Showing my belly helps me shoot better!

    The art is disgusting.  But I guess this kind of thick-line, block coloring, no shading, no detail, no subtlety kind of crap is popular among comic aficionados.  I think it looks like a turd sandwich, but my taste in comic art has never matched up with general readership or especially the more ‘literary’ types.  I guess it’s like people who enjoy the flavor of liver.  Intellectually I know they exist, but emotionally I have a hard time accepting it.  I’m a little less choosy about art than I used to be.  Once upon a time I would simply not read a book if I didn’t really like the art.  Now I may be less inclined, but it’s not a deal breaker.  Still, is more consistent and consistently good art too much to ask?  Or must Ben Templesmith and his lot (it looks like crap intentionally…for ART!) be attached to every project I might otherwise want to read?  It seems to be a choice between ‘looks like crap’ art and ‘looks like manga’ art.  I’m way past sick of both.


    At the end of the day, this is a comic I’ve read.  It’s not great.  It’s not amazing.  I don’t understand the level of excitement around it, or why so many comic readers are claiming it as one of the best comics around.  It’s OK; and among the recent releases from Marvel that makes it stand out.  I still prefer FF (also featuring hideous art!) and Fantastic Four though.  But I’ll take Invincible or the Rocketeer over this any day.  Against comics like Hellboy or Y: the Last Man, it’s not even a blip on the radar.  Heck, I’ll even take the unpleasant art of B.P.R.D. over this, because the content of the story matches the look (and is far superior in every other way).

Read B.P.R.D. instead!


Hawkeye: My Life as a Weapon
Author: Matt Fraction
Artists: David Aja, etc.
Publisher: Marvel Comics
ISBN: 978-0-7851-6562-0

-Matt

Monday, April 15, 2013

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