Comic Review: Red Lance Issue 2

A few weeks ago, I reviewed the first issue of Red Lance, and independant comic written by Gary Bloom. The first issue introduced several characters and the beginnings of some ongoing conflict. The second issue clarifies the conflict, somewhat, by introducing another antagonist MedryTech, and hinting at some larger goings on.

The first thing you’ll notice about the second issue is that there’s been a change in artist. While the coloring is more vibrant and the panel work pretty good (good panel design/flow can be a challenge even in big publisher comics), I’m not as into the art in the second (and third) issue. I can’t even put my finger on why. There’s nothing ‘wrong’ with it; it’s simply not my thing. Hey, millions of people like the art of manga, and I don’t. So, take that for what it’s worth.

Other than a few places where the dialog is a touch clunky, this is a solid superhero comic. The characters are diverse, and I get the feeling the author has story arcs and motivations in mind for most if not all of them. I’m curious about the two reporters occasionally cut to. Are they going to murder each other on live TV at some point?

Check out Red Lance ( http://redlancecomic.com/index.html ). It’s always good to read new voices. And I always recommend trying out work from outside of Marvel and DC, where you’re not likely to get any fresh ideas or new takes on anything.

Matthew J. Constantine

Comic Review: Red Lance issue 1

You know I’m all about the can-do spirit; the ‘little guy (or gal)’ putting their heart on their sleeve and doing it. I love it in film, for sure. But I also love it in comics. That’s one of the reasons I’ve enjoyed many visits to SPX (the Small Press Expo) and why Artists’ Alley is always my favorite place to check out at comic conventions.

I just got a chance to check out the first issue of Red Lance, which is about as independent as they come. Created by Gary Bloom and crowd-funded into reality on KickStarter, this captures the feel of Silver Age marvel comics. While superheroes aren’t my bag, generally, I’m always interested in seeing someone try to do a unique take. And without the weight of decades of history weighing down plot and character options, unique takes can flourish in the indie scene.

While this is a first issue, so it’s mostly about establishing character and tone, there are several ideas that make me curious. I especially liked Vycia’s manipulation of minds, which made me think there might be a reason that crowds in old Marvel comics seemed to turn on a dime. What if someone were driving them to increased passions and illogical behavior?

Just because a comic doesn’t have Batman or Wolverine in it, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t give it a try. If superheroes are your thing, check out Red Lance. The art is professional (better than a lot of stuff making the cut at the Big Two) and the dialog (often the weakest part of indie comics...and no few major titles) is fairly natural.

Go on over to the KickStarter and make the magic happen.

Matthew J. Constantine

Matt’s Week in Dork! (9/7/14-9/13/14)

    This past week I spent much of my time at Rehoboth, Delaware, a beach resort town right up against the Atlantic Ocean.  My goodness, it was swell.  We hit just after the end of the Summer season, as much of the community was winding down, so we had the place largely to ourselves.  This meant that some businesses and activities were closed (no mini-golf that we could find), but much of the vacation madness and crowding was over.  That’s more my cup of tea anyway, being somewhat averse to large crowds as a general thing.  Consequently, there’s not a lot in the way of movies for this week, but plenty of other cool stuff.

    On the journey up, I read the first volume of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, this month’s graphic novel club book.  It was one of the first comics I read when I started getting into the medium about 12 years ago, and this was my first re-reading of it.  I enjoyed the heck out of Alan Moore’s referential smorgasbord of Victorian literature.

    We arrived in Ocean City, where we hailed the first cab to come along…the craziest, most 70s, adventure cab you could ever want.  Despite having a Huey Lewis and the News cassette (along with the Big Chill soundtrack!), it was not, as we were briefly worried, a murder van.  It did have a sweet surfboard on top and a rubber skeleton hanging out the back window.  Bam!  In that character filled van, with a character of a driver, we crossed the length of Ocean City to catch another bus, the Dart, which took us out to our lodgings.  Sadly, the public transit in the Ocean City-Rehoboth corridor is not the most user friendly, with very little helpful info on their website, and no ability to track bus progress.  And when you’re talking about bus routes that can be as much as an hour and a half, easier tracking would be very helpful.  Still, in Rehoboth itself, the buses seemed pretty frequent, even in this off season.  The buses were nice (and clean), but their website could use some work.

    When we hopped off the bus, we were greeted by a cute little farmer’s market, called Fifer’s.  The folks running it were very friendly, and the food we snagged was quite good.  I’d recommend the apple cider donuts, and their tubs of snacks (dried fruit, trail mix, etc.) were quite good.  The chocolate covered pretzels even used real chocolate, not that waxy crap you get in most grocery stores.  Oh, man….

    Though the weather was a bit drizzly, we took the short walk to the beach after getting settled in, and it was simply beautiful.  I’ve been to precious few beaches in my day, and most of them were on the frigid and rocky shores of Maine.  This was a classic resort town beach.  Stretching off into the misty fog  at the far end of either direction, the sand gently sloped down to the rolling waves, giving plenty of room for people to set up and enjoy.  However, due to the lateness of our visit and the wet weather, the beach was mostly deserted.  Perfect.

    After the peaceful view of the rolling ocean, we headed to Rehoboth proper, where there’s an awesome, old-timey boardwalk that looks like what Atlantic City would look like without the sleaze.  I was reminded of the Bangor State Fare mixed with the usual tourist trap shops.  But it was all pleasant and fun to walk around.  But first up was The Frogg Pond, which we had heard had the best wings in town.  I don’t know if there are better, but they were sure as heck delicious.  I was only disappointed that I wasn’t hungry enough to eat another round.  The general atmosphere was of a typical sports bar, but it was pleasant and clean, and the staff was friendly.  There was some live music of moderate quality and perhaps a touch too much volume, but nothing offensive or too off-putting.  After our meal, we stopped by a Candy Kitchen, a shop more common in the region than Starbucks in New York City to purchase some extra snacks and sweets.  Again, I was reminded of the difference real chocolate makes.  You know it’s good when it starts melting on contact with your skin.  Wowzer.  Good stuff.

    Tuesday morning, we had breakfast at The Sunrise Restaurant, a highly rated local favorite.  I have to admit, I found it a bit underwhelming.  The portions were enormous, but the food was sort of middling.  It had that awesome local diner type vibe, but I can’t really rave about it.

    After a trip to local outlet stores (I needed a new pair of sneakers) we walked back into Rehoboth and had a drink at The Summer House.  I drank The Painkiller, which did it’s job.  It was on these walks through town that we discovered the whole place seems to be ruled by a benevolent dictator, Jack Lingo.  His signs are everywhere, and he seems to be the name behind nearly ever real estate deal going.  His office complex is quite impressive, and looks like a historic monument.  We never met or saw the man, and that’s too bad.  I would love to have a face to put with the name.  I’m sure it’s handsome, well quaffed, and accompanied by a rich, smooth voice.  After passing the massive palace of the Mighty Lingo, it was on to the boardwalk where we ate some fries at Thrasher’s, which were quite good.  And we made our first stop at The Ice Cream Store with its dizzying array of flavors.  If we’d stayed another week, I would not have grown tired of trying ice creams and if there were more hours in the day, we’d have likely been hitting the place up a couple times each one we spent in town.  Another walk on the beach brought us home, where we quickly turned around and headed down to the water, putting our feet in for the first time.  While it was a bit cloudy and windy, the water was amazing.  And standing there with the surf breaking around us was pretty darned spectacular.  It was what I’d always wanted the beach to be, not the shiver inducing, dirty green harshness of Sand Beach.

    Later that evening we walked back into town to have dinner at Dogfish Head Brewpub.  My lady was very pleased with the selection of beers, being so near the actual brewery.  (Heck, even I enjoyed sips of a few of those beers, and I normally can’t stand the stuff).  Their burger special was excellent and easy on the wallet.  And the service was exceptional.  I think this may have been my favorite eating experience of the week (a week full of good eating).  It would appear that there is a Dogfish Head close to me, and I definitely plan on visiting sooner rather than later.

    Early Wednesday morning, we walked down to the beach to watch the sunrise.  While the clouds didn’t cooperate as much as we might have hoped, it was still quite lovely.  After that, we grabbed some breakfast sandwiches from Fifers and settled in for a relaxing day.  We were feeling kind of lazy, so we spent much of the early day lounging and watching a couple movies.  Each of us brought along a few the other hadn’t seen, just in case we were stuck inside.  So, I’ve now seen Dirty Dancing, and she’s now seen Buckaroo Banzai.  Ain’t love grand?!

Dirty Dancing:  Apparently set in the early 1960s, this extremely 80s film is filled with everything you expect.  Dancing (sometimes dirty), cheesy dialog (“Last month I was eating Jujubes just to keep alive!”), and hacksaw editing.  Oh, and surprise After School Special/“very special episode of Blossom” B storyline.  Jerry Orbach is particularly awesome as the greatest dad ever.  Plus, like all good 80s films it ends in a dance/concert/big game.

The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the Eighth Dimension:  One of the most madcap, off the wall, weirdly involved, sprawling, never explains who the deuce these people are movies you’ll ever see.  It hits the ground running and it runs all over the danged place.  A bunch of hard rocking scientists/crime-fighters/doctors led by Peter Weller face off against criminal aliens in the form of the best 80s movie villain actors, John Lithgow, Christopher Lloyd, Dan Hedaya, and Vincent Schiavelli (yes, not ONE, but all FOUR!).  The movie feels like what a good comic book movie should be.  There’s little in the way of origin story, and lots in the way of implied history between various characters.  It feels like you’ve been thrust into their world and you’ve got to figure out what’s happening and why.  Infinitely quotable, funny, weird, and often outright bugnuts.  It’s kind of amazing.

    Wednesday afternoon we had the best weather of the whole week, so we went down to the ocean again, enjoying the heck out of the surf, getting pretty well soaked, and even laying out for a while in the sun to dry off.  There were so many people with dogs, too, which were having a great time.  The vibe of the beach was really chill all week, and while never crowded, everyone seemed to be into the water.

    Wednesday night, we walked to Bramble & Brine, a classier place than I’m used to, but quite nice.  It had a slightly hoity-toity, very family-owned feel to it, while not being too stuffy.  The food was excellent.  Not cheap by any stretch.  But excellent.  Both of us were blown away by the lamb porterhouse, which was just an appetizer, but was darned good.  Darned good.  And they had a bunch of Prohibition era cocktails, which you know I’m into.  The service was exceptional, friendly and attentive, without hovering.  On the way back, we hit up The Ice Cream Store again, and Gidget's Gadgets, a kind of nicknack and kitsch shop.

    Thursday morning began the clean-up and return trip prep work.  With another round of breakfast sandwiches from Fifers, we set about tidying up.  By around noon, we were out the door and heading for the bus pick-up.  Once back to Ocean City, with suggestions from a friend, Rebecca directed us toward Ocean City Taphouse.  Good burgers and good homemade chips (with Old Bay).  From there it was back on the bus with a few stops, transfers, etc. and back home.  On the return trip, I read the second volume of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, which I enjoyed even more than the first.  I’m pretty sure I’ll be rereading Black Dossier and Century in the coming weeks.

    This was, without a doubt, the best danged vacation I’ve ever taken.  And I’d recommend Rehoboth to anyone looking for a fun, relaxing time by the beach.  I’m sure it is crazy during the peak season, and maybe not as much fun for introverts like myself.  But generally, it was pretty amazing.  The people were wonderful and the food fantastic.  Getting home, I understandably fell into a post-vacation funk.  Still, it was a great week. And I sure as heck want to give a big thank you to the owners of the place we stayed at.  You can check out the listing here: http://www.vrbo.com/513559.  Excellent location, wonderful and friendly owner, and spacious enough for a larger group, if you're interested (one group that stayed there before us was a bachelorette party/week).  I can't say enough good things.

Muppets Most Wanted:  After hearing some pretty bad press about this film, I found myself enjoying the heck out of it.  Plenty of the usual Muppets antics, lots of blink and you’ll miss ‘em cameos, and some fun musical numbers.  While it’s not going to change the world, it’s a very fun movie, and lots of fun for the family.  If you like the Muppets, you should find plenty to like here.

    Saturday, Brad and I headed out to SPX.  I feel more and more each year that I’ve lost the thread (if I ever had it) of the whole SPX thing.  I enjoy going, but I’m usually done with the place relatively quickly, and a bit relieved when I leave.  As the years have gone by, I’ve found the Baltimore Comic Con has become more diverse, more interesting, both in content and in attendees, while SPX has become more homogenous.  Table after table of similar, often not especially impressive work.  And the crowd seems to have all gone to the same clothing shop and the same stylist.  Purple or blue or pink flannel shirts, skinny jeans, thick-rimmed glasses, Converse sneakers, and haircuts that looked a heck of a lot like Pete White’s from Venture Bros., all mixed into a kind of ugly, utilitarian androgyny.  And almost everyone in attendance was white.  Jim Rugg and Tom Scioli were there, and I was glad to get some stuff from them.  But overall, it didn’t get me too awful pumped, as it has in years past.

The Phantom:  This serial is a bit longer than I was expecting.  15 chapters, instead of the 12 I’m more used to.  It’s better than some, but not among my favorites.  It features the usual ‘Mysterious Lands’ that are some vague hodgepodge of Africa, South America, the American West, and tropical islands of the Hollywood cliché factory.  Tom Tyler, who I enjoyed so much as Captain Marvel in The Adventures of Captain Marvel, one of my favorite movie serials ever, is super dull in this.  His lifeless performance as the Phantom is one of the weaker elements, which is rough when he’s the main character.  Good but not great.

Blood Money (aka: The Stranger and the Gunfighter):  It’s not just East Meets West.  It’s East Meets West with spaghetti sauce.  Unfortunately, as with several of these attempts at genre mashing, the end result is a diluted, half-way version of both, not a good synthesis of both.  Lee Van Cleef is pretty much phoning it in, and Lieh Lo lacks the charm to make up for it.  It’s not terrible, and less dull than a good number of forgettable Spaghetti Westerns, but don’t go out of your way.

    And that was that.  A fine week, with plenty of good food, good fun, comics, movies, and more.  Who’d have thought an after season beach in Delaware would be so darned nice?

-Matthew J. Constantine

Matt’s Week in Dork! (9/15/13-9/21/13)

I'm no flat tire. How 'bout a Gin Rickey?

    Trying to fit some reading and some writing in, but mostly just working and recovering from working.  Got a little cycling in.  Otherwise, mostly just stared at my walls.

Riddick:  “It matches your nipples.”  This movie is not horrible, and that’s about all I wanted from it.  I really enjoyed Pitch Black, and while I kinda enjoy Chronicles of Riddick, it never quite worked for me, seeing how it seems to take place in a totally different style of science fiction universe.  This third film feels more like Pitch Black in style, though it holds over some elements of the more fanciful Chronicles.  It starts as a Robinson Crusoe story, with Riddick left for dead on a hostile world, learning to live and thrive in the environment.  This is the best part of the movie, and I was a little sad to see him push the button that would summon more characters and shift the tone.  From that point on, it began to smell more and more of Pitch Black rehash, though it still wasn’t bad.  The dialog is frequently awkward (though nothing tops ‘you keep what you kill’ and a dozen other idiocies from Chronicles’ Necromongers).  As a science fiction movie?  This is pretty crappy.  As a fun, silly adventure film in space, this is exactly what I was looking for.  Again, if movies like this, After Earth, Oblivion, etc. were just more common, I’d be a bit harsher on them.  But as it is, big-idea, out there science fiction is still all too rare.

Beyond the Rocks:  I’m always happy to hear about movies thought lost that are rediscovered and recovered.  But, while the fact of its recovery is good, the movie itself is so-so.  A fairly bland romantic film with little to make it stand out.  Apparently, putting two big names in one feature (here, Valentino and Gloria Swanson) was unusual.  Sadly, neither seems to be especially energetic or interesting.  I’m assuming Valentino is better elsewhere, because as far as silent actors go, he did not impress in this film, and I know ladies went nuts for him once upon a time.

The Delicious Little Devil:  Not much to this short film.  It’s mildly amusing.  But it’s also pretty darned forgettable.

The Bad and the Beautiful:  Kirk Douglas’s eyes should be registered as deadly weapons.  The man can hate-stare so intently it makes women pregnant and men into women (who subsequently discover they are pregnant).  The rest of the cast is quite good.  I especially like Walter Pidgeon and Barry Sullivan (who was also awesome in the recently viewed Tension).  But it’s Douglas’s movie, and he’s a mad genius who takes no guff.  Hollywood is skewered from the inside by this expose sort of movie.  But it makes all the dirty backstage dealings seem sort of charming and exciting, anyway.  Gloria Grahame shows up briefly (somehow earning an Oscar for the part, which isn't much more than a glorified cameo) as a conniving, luxury hungry wife, and she’s quite good.

    Friday night, we all gathered at Robert’s place for a Barbeque and graphic novel club meeting.  We discussed Astonishing X-Men volumes revolving around the marriage of Northstar and his idiot boyfriend Kyle.  I was unable to read the whole assigned work for various reasons.  But as far as I made it, it was bloody awful.  I have come to hate the X-Men (and the Avengers right along side).  Just dreadful writing and awful characters.  Enough of this status quo maintaining mandated garbage.

Looks like Kyle read this garbage.

Valley of the Dragons:  I had never heard of this particular adaptation of a Jules Verne story, and I guess I can understand why.  It’s not especially interesting.  Still, I do love lost world stories.  And a lost world that is also on the Moon?  Cool.  Two big problems present themselves, however.  I don’t like when real animals are used as ‘dinosaurs.’  Partly, because they look terrible.  But mostly because I don’t like that so often it is clear that the animal was being mistreated to get the shot right.  No, I don’t think lizards have a great deal of mental capacity, nor are the self aware.  But needlessly causing pain to an animal, even to reptiles or insects seems barbaric and lacing in a degree of class.  The second problem is Rodan.  Yes, Rodan.  The giant kaiju from Japan seems to be flying around this moonscape.  I guess they had access to the footage and thought nobody would notice?  But I noticed.  Getting past that, the story of two rivals forced to work together on a hostile world is pretty good, and their adventures with the local population are nice.  The Neanderthals and whatever the heck the albino things were (Morlocks?) are especially disgusting.  Worth a watch if you’re into this sort of film, but not one to expend a great deal of effort tracking down.

    Saturday found me feeling pretty crappy, my weeks of not sleeping and stress finally catching up with me.  Some kind of cold or something.  Oh, boy.  I started going through my various con acquisitions and other sundry things that have been piling up of late.  In doing so, I read through three comics I got from local artist/writer Andy K.  Mind Games is a pretty gross little horror short.  The Secret Origin of John Elway is nuts.  And Neon Super Gladiator has a cool feel.  His stuff reminds me of something that might have been on Liquid Television back in the 90s.  Weird and uncomfortable.  I also read Jennifer Hachigian’s Pocket Editor Two, which she gave me because she liked my shirt (“Arthur Turing Fought Nazis With Science”).  It plays on that old video game thing with “All your base are belong to us” but manages to correct the grammar.  I flipped through super-nice guy Alex Fine’s Il Brutto, which re-imagines various movie characters as played by Charles Bronson.  And lastly, I looked through Sam Wolk’s Alpha Beasts and Alpha Bots, two collections of 26 drawings, each based on a letter (T is for Twiki, J is for Jersey Devil, etc.).  Quite cool.  I still have more stuff to get to, and some prints to frame.

    When I got home Friday night, I had a package waiting for me.  I keep forgetting that I’m a patron of the arts.  My old high school chum Serena Andrews is a musician and artist, and has a project she’s working on that involves a tour and a book.  I got some perks for my donation to the project, including a CD of music by Serena, which I listened to on Saturday afternoon.  Buried somewhere in the attic of my mother’s house is a cassette of Serena's music she put out back in the mid 90s.  I always liked her stuff, and still do.  It has a Tori Amos/Regina Spektor kind of thing going, with a bit of Kate Bush and Laurie Anderson.  All good in my book.

    And late Saturday night I picked up and finished the very short, but fun book Bright Young Things by Alison Maloney.  It’s a hand book for Roaring 20s living, with phrases, cocktails, party plans, and fashion, mixed with historic notes and cultural gossip of the time.  The book doesn’t go into a great deal of depth, but I think it would be a handy guide to have while reading fiction of the time (like The Great Gatsby), or history texts (like Flapper), or for those inclined, playing period roleplaying games (like Call of Cthulhu).  If you're looking for a sweet biscuit for barney-making, and you need to know if the bank's closed, this book ain't banana oil.  It's the elephant's instep, see.

-Matt

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