Comic Review: Fatale Book One

    I reviewed this book some time ago, but I don’t feel that I gave it enough time/space.  So here I go again.  Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips have created a hybrid Noir-Lovecraft tale that spans history and delves into some existential horror in a way often lacking, even from the devotees of H.P. Lovecraft writing today.  Mood is a primary factor, almost a character in itself, in classic Noir films (and their Hard Boiled literary counterparts) as well as in the Cosmic Horror that was shaped by Lovecraft and his circle.  Fatale is dripping in mood.  From the heavy, black shadows and muted colors of the art, to the grim trudge toward doom taken by each character.  The series isn’t about mood and atmosphere, but they sure play a big part.

    With plot and character nods to the inspirational source material, genre fans should be able to hop right in.  The corrupt cops, the corruptible journalist, the violent mobster, and the mysterious vamp.  The cult murders, growing sense of deep history, and hints at supernatural natures build up the Mythos elements.  I’m a sucker for stories that build a sense of deep time, of back story for characters and plot.  And while the main story of a woman in fear, manipulating two men in a chess game played against a demonic figure plays out, we start to see that events have been building for a long, long time.  I love the little connections to historic events that are dropped in, too.

    This was my second reading of the first volume, and I found myself even more invested, paying closer attention.  At the point that I’m writing this, I’ve read the first three volumes, and am setting off on a quest to read all five in the very near future.  And I know that some of the stuff introduced in this volume pays off, or plays into what comes next.  But I’m still not sure how it all comes together.  And I can’t wait to find out.  When I read this the first time, I was captivated.  And it got my creative juices flowing.  It made me want to run an epic, generation spanning Call of Cthulhu roleplaying game campaign.  Reading it again, I see why.  Besides being a good read for Hard Boiled/Noir fans, for Horror fans (particularly of the Lovecraftian bent), it’s a great read for tabletop gamers.  It’s also another reminder of the great stuff coming out of companies like Image, who aren’t weighted down with demands for status quo maintenance.

Fatale: Death Chases Me
Author: Ed Brubaker
Artist: Sean Phillips
Publisher: Image Comics
ISBN: 978-1-60706-563-0

-Matthew J. Constantine

Comic Review: Fatale 1, 2, & 3

    Ed Brubaker, the guy who made me give a crap about Captain America with his Winter Soldier story arc, tells a crime story with deep roots in writers like Chandler and Hammett, as well as the horrors of Lovecraft.  This is the sort of thing I want to read, that comics can excel at, and that is often overshadowed by capes and spandex.

Death Chases Me

    The first volume starts out with a crazy, over the top action sequence involving a mysterious woman and a kamikaze prop-plane that may be a bit too much, frankly.  However, once that’s over and Nicolas Lash begins his quest to understand things left by a dead relative, the story starts getting interesting.  The cast of characters and the depth of history expands quickly, jumping back to the 50s to follow reporter Hank Raines, who has also met the mysterious woman from the opening, looking no different.  It doesn’t take long to find some ghoulish deviltry afoot.  Dangerous cults, weird things in the shadows, and all the time, the mysterious, beautiful woman, the Fatale.  I don’t love Sean Phillips art, but I think it’s appropriate for the comic, giving enough of a classic, 50s look to help authenticity.  And Brubaker’s writing captures the tone of the hard boiled detective stories as well as the existential dread of Mythos dangers.

The Devil’s Business

    Moving forward to the decadent and disenchanted 70s, the second volume finds the Fatale living as a recluse, while cults, collectors, and…other things search for her.  I enjoy this story of broken and sad people dealing with religious nuts in the ugly aftermath of the 60s.  The jaded tastes of people with too much money and no direction.  Gross.  And while the past unfolds, in the present, Nicolas Lash’s life spirals out of control.  Nobody seems to be having a good time of it.  The building story is fascinating.  Each reveal increases tension, while making me more and more curious about what will happen and what has happened, and who everyone really is.  And of course, at the heart of it all, who is the femme fatale?  Who is Josephine?  What is she?

West of Hell

    The third volume looks into the history of Josephine, going back a long, long way.  Each chapter (each issue) finds her in a different time, expanding our understanding of who and what she really is, and of the many strange and painful events of her long history.  And as her history unfolds, hints and innuendos about the truth behind it all come to light.  I find myself enjoying this series quite a lot.  It feels like a comicbook version of the classic roleplaying game Call of Cthulhu.  In fact, reading it got me very much in the mood for that game, and in the mood to read more mythos tales of various sorts.  I’m very curious to see where this all goes and how it works out.  One of the best comics on the market today, it is a must read.

Fatale Book One: Death Chases Me
Author: Ed Brubaker
Artist: Sean Philips
Publisher: Image Comics
ISBN: 978-1-60706-563-0

Fatale Book Two: The Devil’s Business
Author: Ed Brubaker
Artist: Sean Philips
Publisher: Image Comics
ISBN: 978-1-60706-618-7

Fatale Book Three: West of Hell
Author: Ed Brubaker
Artist: Sean Philips
Publisher: Image Comics
ISBN: 978-1-60706-743-6

-Matt

Brad's Week in Dork! (8/18/13-8/24/13)

It feels like it's been a month since my last entry - that's because it has! Man oh man, no excuses...except to say that my San Diego Comic Con vacation was so epic and amazing that I've been suffering a massive bout of postpartum depression. It was only a week long pregnancy but the birth produced a bouncing beastly joy baby that's consumed my every waking thought.  This year's Comic Con was so extreme and wonderful that I cannot even put it into the proper words.  I really should do a separate blog post on the adventure, but I fear that too much time has past for any of you to give a good god damn about how wonderful my life has been.  I will leave you with just this - a photo I snapped from the front row of Hall H....

That's right, Sam The Man giving yours truly the stare down.  Absolute chills.  And that is only one of hundreds of photos I took over the course of the weekend.  I saw all the amazing panels you've already read about, scored a sackful of exclusives including the Magnitude Admiral Akbar bust, and participated in the Doug Loves Movies podcast, in which special guest star Leonard Maltin competed on my wife's behalf.   Third year in a row, and it was the best one yet.  I've been in a daze ever since, and for whatever reason I lost focus on ITMOD.  Thankfully, Matt has been watching & doing a bunch of crazy dork stuff and he's been keeping this blog going while I was drifting in the clouds.

Art by Monica Marier

Well, I'm back now folks.  This being the tail end of the Summer Blockbuster season, I spent a lot of time in the theater.  Finally found a film I'm comfortable calling the Best Movie of 2013 - Only God Forgives is a monster.  And quite possibly superior to Drive which won my heart a couple years back.  Don't believe the snobs and the haters, Nicholas Winding Refn's latest is not to be simply dismissed by the critics.  It's a depressing, oppressive winner.  Edgar Wright, Simon Pegg, & Nick Frost brought their Cornetto Trilogy to a close with The World's End, and even if it is the weakest of the three, the film was an absolute highlight of the summer.  Seeing all their films back-to-back at The Alamo Drafthouse was easily my favorite theatrical experience of the year.  More on that later.  And, yes, the 18th was my Birthday and I decided this year to tie it into my annual Shat Attack Movie Party.  For a full rundown on the nearly 24 Hours of Shatner Viewing check out Matt's Week in Dork.  Spiders, Whales, & Tommy Guns Oh My!  Another rip roaring success.

Only God Forgives:  An absolutely punishing film.  Nicholas Winding Refn's second collaboration with Ryan Gosling is a mean spirited film draped in the mood of David Cronenberg's body horror, fogged with David Lynch's absurdity, and housed within the long corridors of Stanley Kubrick's The Shining.  Like the best of Quentin Tarantino or Martin Scorsese, Only God Forgives is somehow both homage and wholly original.  A greek tragedy centered around an Oedipal complex and a quest for revenge, Ryan Gosling has sinned his way into impotence and only Vithaya Pansringarm's angel of vengeance can release him from his miserable existence.  With it's nearly mute leading actor, it's meticulously composed frame, and shocking outbursts of violence (although surprisingly tame in the gore department) it's no wonder the box office did not embrace this terse melodrama.  And unlike Drive, the Urban Outfitters crowd will find difficulty in embracing the cool of Gosling's murderous demon.  This is not anti-hero cinema, despite a close resemblance to the Frankenstein monster and a killer Cliff Martinez score.

Kick-Ass 2:  Three years ago, I really enjoyed Matthew Vaughn's Kick Ass. Coming off of Layer Cake & Stardust, the director seemed to revel in the mean-spirited vitriol of Mark Millar & John Romita Jr's  wannabe Alan Moore comic book. It's a superhero deconstruction that seemed more concerned with punishing its ignorant fanboys than elevating them to their obsessions. However, with Vaughn's departure the sequel is plopped into the lap working stiff Jeff Wadlow (Cry_Wolf, Never Back Down) and the result is a heartless hunk of wood. From nearly the first line of dialog I was cringing at the performances. Aaron Taylor-Johnson & Chloe Grace Moretz are embarrassingly lifeless. Christopher Mintz-Plasse reads like a High School Musical audition. The film's soundtrack is cobbled together from the previous outing and a Wal-Mart club mix. Utter dreck. The violence is amped but the camera is rammed into the action, shaking uncontrollably, and fogging any sense of choreography.  There might be a little life in Jim Carrey's Colonel Stars & Stripes, but he's barely in the movie and his departure is almost as unceremonious as his entrance.  A real summer snooze.

The Flashpoint Paradox:  Alternative timelines are always fun. Of course, this particular story is based on the tale that spun DC Comics down the New 52 rabbit hole of mediocrity (the positive spin) and confused nonsense (the negative spin).  So I've got some bitter feelings to work through before I can ever fully embrace this adaptation. The basic gist is that anti-Flash (aka Professor Zoom) travels back in time switching key events that pit Wonder Woman's Amazons against Aquaman's Atlantians, all the while Lex Luthor's pitiful humans are caught in the middle. Superman never landed in Smallville. Bruce Wayne was shot down in crime alley instead of his parents. A topsy turvy world that's a lot of fun, but lacks the depth of DC's greatest animated adventures (New Frontier, The Dark Knight Returns).  And next on the DC docket is Justice League - War, an animated spin on The New 52's Justice League.  Not interested.  DAMN YOU FLASH!!!!

The Ultimate Justice League of Extraordinary Graphic Novel Book Club (Year 2, Meeting 3):  This month's Graphic Novel was my pick, the first three volumes of Fatale by Ed Brubaker & Sean Phillips. If you've been following this blog at all than you know that I consider Fatale to be the single greatest comic currently being published on a monthly basis.  Unfortunately, the group and I had to beg to differ.  With the exception of my incredibly intelligent co-dork Matt and my very beautiful wife, the rest of the gang did not seem too impressed with Brubaker's noir/Lovecraft mashup.  There were a couple "OK"s & the rest supplied some shoulder shrugs.  Oh well.  Art is subjective and all that.  The books certainly provided for some interesting discussion centering around Josephine's proactive nature or lack thereof, and I came away this month more in love with Fatale than before.  It truly is a masterpiece and I cannot wait to see where Brubaker & Phillips leave this story.

Fatale - Death Chases Me:  The first volume bounces back and forth from the present day to 1950s San Francisco as Nicholas Lash tries to uncover a supernatural mystery involving his dead uncle and a seemingly immortal woman.  It's a rather brilliant kernel that finds a magical reason to explain the Femme Fatale cliche.  Put simply, Raymond Chandler strained through HP Lovecraft's nightmares, and it's everything this fanboy has ever wanted to see on the page or screen.  You've got Nazis, Cultists, Demons, Cops, Journalists, Dames, and Corpses.  It's the kitchen sink, baby.

Fatale - The Devil's Business:  The events of the first volume send the demon siren Josephine into a LA LA Land seclusion.  It's now the 1970s and Los Angeles is suffering from a cocaine blizzard, Hollywood cultists, and snuff films.  A junkie wannabe actor ekes his way into the wrong party and suddenly he's battling Hell's Army and falling under the hypnotic gaze of Josephine.  Like all the men that fall upon her path, the junkie's future is instantly damned and serves simply as a reminder to our Femme Fatale that her existence is all consuming.  Meanwhile, the present day Nicholas Lash suffers hellish nightmares involving tentacled men and attractive owls.  What's it all mean?  Nothing good.

Fatale - West of Hell:  With the third volume, the mythology of Fatale is blown wide open and, of course, it creates more questions than answers.  In 1930s Texas Josephine meets the Lovecraft stand-in,  Alfred Ravenscroft.  His pulp stories seem to hold the answers to Josephine's visions, and her encounter with him launches her dead-end quest through World War II.  We also meet Mathilda of 1286 France and Black Bonnie of 1883 Colorado, two lovely creatures similarly cursed with the siren affliction.  Their stories offer glimpses at the blood magic at the center of this horror, and the Good vs Evil forces pulling the strings.  And finally, we're given the sad story that brought Josephine & GI Walt Booker together.  Maybe he's not the human monster we once thought?  West of Hell is the volume that sealed the deal on my love of Ed Brubaker & Sean Phillips.  There is grand mythology supporting this dirty noir.

Out of Sight:  On Tuesday, Elmore Leonard passed away due to complications after a stroke.  The man was an absolute hero of mine and his books sent me down a path of crime writing I have yet to depart.  I was lucky enough to attend a signing of his some years back, and he was an absolutely gracious man while he snarked at my Mr. Majestyk one sheet.  I remember asking him if he would ever get back to Western's and he simply stated, "No money in it."  To celebrate the man there is only one movie I could have chosen.  Out of Sight is the film that forever proved the truth of George Clooney's charm, and it's one of a fistful of movies to properly capture Leonard's crackerjack characters.  Smart and slick crooks right alongside the painfully boneheaded. Jackie Brown might be the best film pulled from a Leonard novel, but Out of Sight is the closest film to properly deliver the tone - that balance of comedy and drama. Clooney is Super Cool TNT, even when he's hanging around dolts like Steve Zahn's vision impaired Glen or Don Cheadle's glass jawed Snoopy. Out of Sight made crime cool again; without it there certainly wouldn't be a Justified tv show or an Ocean's 11.

Lord of Illusions:  "I was born to murder the world." Clive Barker's third and final film as a director is an underrated genre mashup supported by four performances from actors never again given material this weighty or as against type. Scott Bakula is an exceptional Sam Spade stand-in, and he carries the supernatural shenanigans with Humphrey Bogart's dry acceptance. Kevin J O'Connor, who is normally regulated to the comic relief sidekick persona, is exceptionally sad as the fallen magician but he also manages to evoke dreadful power. Famke Janssen was simply born to be the Femme Fatale; she's pure sex & danger. And Daniel Von Bargen might just be the proudest, shiniest, tubbiest lump of evil to ever Charlie Manson the silver screen. Lord of Illusions is the Chinatown of horror, a neo-noir caked in Barker's special brand of perversity that never got the audience it so rightfully deserved. I'll just have to take comfort in the knowledge that in the Fringe universe Bakula & Barker made a killing with a whole slew of Harry D'Amour detective stories.

Photo Courtesy of The Alamo Drafthouse Facebook Page

The Blood & Ice Cream Shaun Off @ The Alamo Drafthouse DC:  On Thursday night, The Wife & I met up at The Alamo with our friends Matt (you know him), Paul, & Lindsey for the Cornetto Trilogy screening.  I've seen a lot of great movies on the silver screen (Sweet Smell of Success, Lawrence of Arabia, 2001 A Space Odyssey, The Monster Squad), but the key ingredient that transformed this showing into my all time favorite theatrical experience was The Shaun-Off Raffle.  To participate all you needed was a white buttoned up shirt, a red tie, and some red on you.  One quick trip to Target and The Wife & I were cosplaying (a first for me).  

And dammit, can you actually believe I won the raffle!  I can no longer say that I never win anything because I walked away from The Cornetto Trilogy with a free Mondo print of Shaun of the Dead signed by Edgar Wright, Simon Pegg, and Nick Frost.  Just look at that photo above, I am completely gobsmacked.  I'm still flying high from the win, and as I type this I'm staring googly eyed at the Tyler Stout beauty hanging on my wall.  Just too cool for school.

Shaun of the Dead:  "They're a bit bitey."  Nine years ago I attended a sneak preview of this film and when I walked out of the theater I remember saying to a friend that we had just experienced an instant classic.  Having now seen it a dozen or so times, I still feel that Shuan of the Dead is one of those rare perfect films.  On one hand it is an expertly crafted parody of the George Romero zombie movie, and on the other hand it's a heart wrenching story of both romantic & parental love.  Simon Pegg is the ultimate fanboy hero, he gives all boob tube losers like myself hope of an apocalypse makeover.  It's never too late to get your shit together.  In the last ten years we have seen countless cash grabs into the zombie subgenre, but only Shaun feels like a proper addition to the world originally populated by Romero.

Hot Fuzz:  "If we bashed your head in all sorts of secrets would come out."  Next on their hit list, Edgar Wright & Simon Pegg target Michael Bay's 'splosions but with a good dose of Wicker Man small town creepy.  Simon Pegg is Nicholas Angel, the Dirty Harry of London banished to the dreary boredom of the midlands.  But of course this Supercop will uncover a town wide conspiracy involving a Serial Slasher, Timothy Dalton's absorbingly smug grin, and a gaggle of dimwitted coppers.  The pacing blunders a little, but you'll forgive an overlong running time after a Kaiju climax boggles your brain.  Hot Fuzz doesn't quite get the love blessed Shaun of the Dead, but you would be sorely ignorant if you dismissed this very british ribbing of an American Summer Blockbuster staple.  

The World's End:  "That's why I drink from a crazy straw!  Not so crazy now!"  The genre mashing of this film is not as clear or as clever as Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz, but it succeeds due to the camaraderie between friends.  Simon Pegg, Nick Frost, Paddy Considine, Martin Freeman, & Eddie Marsan are a great batch of chums, and their banter is some of the most lovable & cantankerous we've been given in The Cornetto Trilogy.  Pegg's Gary King is easily the most depressingly gloomy character he's played so far, and likewise, Nick Frost's Andy is his most layered lout yet.  Frost's transformation from stiff upper brit to smashing pink Hulk awards the film's greatest laugh.  WWF Smackdown Champion.  I dare not ruin the climax of the movie, but it is certainly a masterstroke.  I only wish it happened fifteen minutes earlier cuz I just wanted more of that samurai insanity.  Sure, it's my least favorite film in the series but it's also one of 2013's finest films.  Cheers.

Paul:  "Three tits - Awesome!"  It's simply unfair to compare this film to The Cornetto Trilogy.  There's just something magical about the Edgar Wright, Simon Pegg, Nick Frost combo.  Take one away and it's just not the same.  That being said, the Pegg & Frost duo in any film is worth your attention.  Much more sophomoric and silly than their other efforts, Paul appeals to that dimmer side of my brain.  Seth Rogen is daft and dumb and wonderful as the little green man taunting our heroes across the American west.  Pegg & Frost are exceptionally sweet in their plutonic love, and the genre references are fun enough for nerds everywhere.  Not a classic, but it gets the job done when there is no more ice cream to devour.

--Brad

Matt’s Week in Dork! (8/18/13-8/24/13)

    Danged busy this week.  Danged busy.  I hardly had any time at home.  Sunday morning was spent trying to wake up after the insanity of ShatAttack VI.  Got home and I was less than with it.

Sullivan’s Travels:  To say the least, this is a zany comedy.  A wealthy Hollywood writer decides he needs some authenticity for his film about the common man, so he has to go live among them.  Cue total madness.  As Sullivan goes through a series of strange adventures, he begins to see the world in a new way.  And when things get really, really bad, he comes to see a truth he’d never have imagined.  Veronica Lake is charmingly sweet as the failed actress turned vagabond companion.

Kick-Ass 2:  I don’t even know where to begin.  I enjoyed the heck out of Kick-Ass, but this film fails in nearly every way you can think of.  The script is laughably bad.  The delivery of the lines almost uniformly terrible.  The score and soundtrack are excruciating.  And the cinematography and special effects are bargain-basement.  Every bit of charm and fun the first film had is nowhere to be seen in this train wreck.  Every ounce of emotion is false in the extreme, with every dramatic moment hitting without any of the needed build-up.  The movie reflects well on everyone who had nothing to do with it.  My hat’s off to them.  To every last person who didn’t work on this movie.

Bullet to the Head:  Walter Hill strikes back.  He’s old and he’s lost much of his magic.  There’s nothing especially wrong with the film, I guess.  It’s just not very interesting.  Just kind of blah.

    On Thursday night, friend Paul and I headed out to the Alamo Drafthouse to watch the ‘Cornetto Trilogy.’  Had a ton of fun.  Soooooo much popcorn.  Brad, Lisa, and graphic novel club member Lindsey were also there, and Brad managed to win a signed poster for Shaun of the Dead, which was pretty badass.

Shaun of the Dead:  This movie is so much fun.  And I love that while it manages to be very funny, it’s also a pretty good zombie (enough with the “z” word!) movie.  The cast is excellent, the script tight, and the jokes fast and furious.  There’s some good stuff about love, friendship, family, and growing up.

Hot Fuzz:  The Shaun of the Dead folks returned with this ode to 70s cops & cults movies.  Many of the same cast members return with some new additions to shake things up.  Awesome older actors get some meaty supporting work, too.  It’s funny, violent, and filled with goofed up action.

The World’s End:  The third film in the ‘Cornetto Trilogy’ this film reunites many of the same cast and crew in another weird and funny adventure.  In trying to recapture a moment from their youth, a band of friends confront past mistakes while things in their home town go tits-up.  It’s probably the weakest of the three, but it’s still quite good.

    Friday night was our next meeting of the graphic novel club, where we discussed Fatale.  It was not universally liked, but dang I enjoyed it.  Taps into all my favorite Noir and Lovecraft loves.  Sadly, I had to kind of rush through the three volumes, as I didn’t get them until fairly late, and man, I’ve been a busy bee lately.

The Love Merchant:  Some truly epic bad acting accompanies this not especially interesting sexploitation film from the 60s.  Lots of mod folk dance around and read dialog off cards.  It’s basically Indecent Proposal in black & white.  Probably fun for a group watch, but nothing to seek out.  Oddly little nudity for this sort of film.  But great awful 60s club dancing (the girls are like Peanuts characters).

The Layout:  A dissatisfied young woman is looking for love, but not getting quite what she wants in this Joe Sarno trip.  That’s the start.  From there, a bunch of girls start exploring various forms of sexuality.  There’s a lot of nudity and some kink that is mostly just cute and awkward by today’s standards.  There seem to be a bunch of shots of people looking at the camera, making me think it was a lot of one-take and done shooting.  Lots and lots and lots of fairly normal looking women taking their clothes off.  In the end, it seems that the path toward happiness for all these women is lesbian sex and battery operated massagers.  Probably a third of this film’s runtime was non-graphic masturbation scenes.  That does seem a touch excessive.

    I started watching the show Orphan Black…which hasn’t impressed me at all.  I’m not sure if I’m going to keep going with it.  So far, it just seems like another knock-off of Dark Angel/Alias/Dollhouse.  And it hasn’t got anything to make it stand out.  Plus, it has the sassy gay friend, a character archetype that seems to have replaced the sassy black friend, which had replaced the sassy fat friend, which had replaced the sassy dark haired friend.  The sassy friend is a terrible archetype.

    That’s about it.  I got a bit of time to relax and finally sleep on Saturday.  But it looks like the next several weeks are going to be super busy again.  What’s up with that?

-Matt

Dork Art: Darwyn Cooke's Fatale Variant!

I don't usually go for the scam of variant covers, but Darwyn Cooke's cover for Fatale #15 might see me break down for the extra price tag.  Dipping into its hard boiled roots, Cooke delivers an image straight from a Hard Case Crime paperback - that is to say, something not perfectly reminiscent of the era but pretty darn close.  Bravo, sir.

--Brad

Brad's Week in Dork! (5/12/13-5/18/13)

Sigh.  Let that be your warning - there be ranting blogger rage here.  From the very first set photo leaked from Star Trek Into Darkness, we here at ITMOD expressed reservation about the follow-up film to JJ Abrams' rather clever 2009 relaunch.  If you've read more than one of our posts here, you know that we're a pair of serious Trekkies - and it's hard to impress us when the crew of the USS Enterprise is involved.  Hell, we've hated on the original film series, the Next Gen crew, DS9, Voyager, and those bloody Bakula nimrods.  But for the most part, it comes from a place of love and we can find joy in even the weakest of Trek entries (I for one am a serious defender of Shatner's Final Frontier).  Star Trek Into Darkness marks the first film in the franchise that I full-on hated.  Nemesis & Generations might be weaker entries, but even in those lamebrain scripts you can find fleeting moments of character to latch upon.  Into Darkness is a remake in the guise of split-time sequel, and it preys upon your memories of the characters and the iconic events that shaped previous films.  If the last time you watched Star Trek II - The Wrath of Khan was a few years ago, and you casually think of yourself as a "Trekkie" cuz being a nerd these days is cool than you probably loved Into Darkness.  If you can check off your brain, ignore the craters of logic that obliterate the screenplay, and have no problem with 9/11 conspiracies or racial white washing than go have fun at the movies.  But if you ever bitched about Indiana Jones & The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull or Prometheus or The Dark Knight Rises but thought Into Darkness was a rollicking good time, than you are fooling yourself - or are completely ignorant to the idiocy assaulting your senses.  Whiz, Bang, Flash is not Star Trek.

Ok.  Have I insulted you yet?  Have I properly expressed how much your enthusiasm for this new Trek makes you an idiot?  Do I sound like a big enough asshole?  Smug enough?  Righteous enough?  Good.  Let's continue.

I really don't like being a hater.  My problem is that, when it comes to all things dorky, Star Trek is my one true love.  I love Westerns.  I love comic books.  I love Planet of the Apes & Magnum PI.  But above all else I love Star Trek.  It's why JJ's 2009 film is such a damn miracle to me.  He managed to make a flick that pleased mass audiences as well as basement dwelling trolls like myself.  Star Trek '09 is a great action movie that plays off the Kirk vs. Khan scenario that plagues all cinematic Trek films, but still delivers strong emotional character beats as well as winky callbacks to the original series.  And it's shimmering success really had me pumped for Into Darkness, even though the trailers & posters often gave me pause.  My joy for that movie, as well as the Universe it inhabits, ranked Star Trek Into Darkness as one of my most highly anticipated films of the year.  

As I often do, I decided to get serious with my preparation.  Watching all of Abrams's films prior to the new release as well as finishing off the second season of Lost with The Wife.  I really do dig his work prior to this latest abomination.  Despite whatever narrative balls get dropped in LOST, it still ranks as one of my favorite television shows.  Mission Impossible III revived a floundering action franchise for Tom Cruise's psychologically strained career.  Super 8 is a gorgeous love letter to all things Spielberg.  And Star Trek '09 is....well, you know already, just a geeky gem.  Hindsight being what it is, I can start to get cynical about the man.  His career does seem to prey, or at least leech upon nostalgia.  And since my brain is in a fairly dark place at the moment, it's easy for me to think of JJ Abrams as a monstrous money maker taking advantage of this Golden Age of Nerd, grabbing for our dollars by playing with our most beloved properties.  I am certainly curious to see what he does with Star Wars - Episode VII.  If this blog post proves anything, it's impossible to please all the geeks, and his Star Wars will surely grab the attention of haters everywhere.  The nice thing about that though is that George Lucas has pretty much killed that franchise already, and Abrams surely cannot do any worse than what the father has already committed.   

Below you will find hate for only one film.  I dig the others in varying ways.  Also, despite all this Trekkie ranting, the Week was filled with other great bits of dorkery as well.  Lots of comics.  The new issue of Fatale was amazing.  The Age of Ultron continues to exist.  I finished my blitz through Homicide - Life on the Street.  And The Ultimate Justice League of Extraordinary Book Club celebrated it's one year anniversary.  Star Trek Into Darkness might have put a damper on things, but lets' face it, I obviously love bitching about it, and at the end of the day new Star Trek is a good thing.  Live Long and Prosper, folks.

LOST - Season 2:  This is the season in which most of America jumped ship.  Not me.  I was enjoying the first season's mysterious island with its sadsack flashbacks and roaring unseen monsters - but! from the moment they found Desmond at the bottom of the hatch & the introduction of Dr. Marvin Candle & his Dharma Initiative I was truly obsessed with LOST.  Terry O'Quinn's John Locke spends much of this arc analyzing or confusing the messages being sent his way by The Island.  Push the button, don't push the button, push the button.  And what does it all have to do with Hurley's numbers.  As per usual you get more questions than answers, but they are some pretty damn fun questions.  Michael thankfully spends much of the show off screen screaming for "WAAAAALT!" and when he finally returns he brings a whole lot of crazy and death with him.  The new additions to the cast are all enjoyable, even Michelle Rodriguez's tough girl is a fairly interesting character and just when you're getting tired of her...well, The Island has an answer.  Of course, Season 2's greatest new character is Michael Emmerson's Henry Gale.  A real asshole who has a mess of fun twisting Lock's brain around; even if that's pretty easy, it's a heck of a lot of fun to watch.  It is odd watching it a second (or is this a third) time around.  I used to love Mr. Echo so much, but knowing how his story ends makes it easy to gloss over his character.  He's just one of many threads that leads to a brick wall of pointlessness.  Still, I love Dharma.  It might not go exactly where I want it to lead, but how can you not enjoy a shadowy organization messing with magnetic fields and trippy 1960s psycho-babble experiments.  Technology-gone-by, I eat that stuff up.

Mission Impossible III:  Coming at a point when it was popular to bash Tom Cruise for his whackjob beliefs (I recognize the man as crazy, but he's the pure embodiment of "A Real American Hero" - Hollywood's GI Joe), MI3 revitalized a franchise left on the killing floor by John Woo and his unnecessary pigeon explosions.  This is also the only film in the series to feel remotely like the TV show with its rube-goldberg action set-pieces and oddball collection of IMF agents.  Phillip Seymour Hoffman remains the only real memorable villain of the quadrilogy, even when he's phoning it in he's bringing 110% of rage.  Granted, I'm not crazy how Bad Robot injects the Alias subplot of the husband hiding his Secret Agent status from friends & family, but it was obvious from the previous films that some form of humanity needed to be injected into Ethan Hunt.  Sure, I have no idea what an Anti-God device is or why I should care, but when Tom Cruise is hurtling down the backally's of Hong Kong all you need to know is that he's gots ta smash Hoffman's face.

Super 8:  The first half of this film is nearly flawless in its recreation of a period.  Abrams certainly understands what works in those early Spielberg films; the man pulls all the family drama he can from Jaws, E.T., and Close Encounters of the Third Kind.  But it only works because Abrams has gathered an exceptional cast of child actors - you're lucky enough when you find one kid who can emote, but when you've uncovered half a dozen?  That's nearly unheard of; set these guys right next to  The Monster Squad & The Goonies.  Elle Fanning gets the most critical praise thanks to her stirring "performance" before the train explosion, but this is Joel Courtney's movie and all of Super 8's fantasy and heart rests on his shoulders.  The best bits are the moments between the kids, the ridiculously massive train collision is fun and the monster terror is exciting enough, but if you removed the interplay between the kids or even their Super 8 contest film, then all that's left is a mediocre monster mash.  The back half of the film is solid spectacle, but like LOST, the mystery box is much more interesting than the contents desperately hidden inside.

Fatale #14:  "The man who isn't a man at all..."  Ed Brubaker & Sean Phillips' third arc of seemingly stand-alone stories comes to a close with a doozy.  We've been given glimpses of Josephine's WWII history before, but here we get a real nitty gritty insight into the depths she plummeted during the Nazi's European reign.  Fans of Indiana Jones & Hellboy will dig the references to the Thule Society, and the Lovecraftian tentacle demons get plenty of panel time this issue.  Also, we are actually given an opportunity to understand Walt Booker's human monster, and it makes me wonder how our hero Nicholas Lash will be left at the end of the series.  My guess is haunted and mutilated, if not simply a corpse.  Fatale remains my favorite monthly comic.

Age of Ultron #8:  The first half of this series spent its time wandering the Post-Apocalypse of an Ultron ravaged America.  Bryan Hitch's art was amazing so it was easy to miss the fact that the plot was barely moving forward.  Now we're two issues from the conclusion and the plot is rushing by at a breakneck pace.  Of course, the whole "Age of Ultron" conceit has gone by the wayside and the real narrative of a time hopping Wolverine & Sue Richards reveals itself as a fun if disposable mirror universe tale.  I dig the technology ravaged Tony Stark and his buggy Defenders, but I have no idea who or what Morgan Le Fey is within the context of the Marvel Universe.  Nor do I care since it's all gonna get reset anyway.  I'm not hating this series, but it does leave me with something to be desired.

FF #7:  Another month, another amazing issue of FF.  The Future Foundation travels to the Negative Zone to rescue Bentley-23 from his clone daddy and free the super villain from the mind of Medusa.  Mike Allred kills it on art, and there are several Ant-Man panels I want mounted on my wall pronto.  The only way you cannot be enjoying this series is that if you have no soul.  Right now, FF is the best book of the Marvel Now relaunch with Thor - God of Thunder trailing closely behind.

Ultimate Comics Spider-Man #23:  Miles Morales has had to deal with death in the past, but the tragedy of the last issue truly rocked him to his 14 year old emotional core.  This issue jumps ahead one year and even though I'm not usually a fan of that kind of thing, I gotta admit that it works here.  We find Miles sans costume.  He's a year older, and in teen years that's practically a decade of emotional intelligence.  His relationship with his father seems stronger, he has a girlfriend in the Ultimate Universe incarnation of Kate Bishop (YAY!  HAWKEYE!  FU Matt!), and Gwen Stacey waitresses at a crappy Chinese Restaurant.  I really have no idea how he stayed out of the costume for a whole year, but it doesn't look like that's going to last much longer with Jessica Drew hounding him to join the Ultimates.  If you are at all annoyed with the Dock Ock silly of The Superior Spider-Man than it's time for you to jump realities.  Miles is where it's at.  

Star Trek:  "I dare you to do better."  As I stated in this week's A Fistful of Star Trek, my Trekkie heart is devastated during the opening destruction of the USS Kelvin.  I've watched this film a half dozen times now, and every time during the final exchange between Mr. & Mrs. George Kirk I well up with tears.  And I really do dig how the death of James Kirk's father alters his personality if not his destiny.  This is not William Shatner's Starfleet Captain.  Fitting into JJ Abrams' Lucas/Spielberg obsession, Chris Pine is much more Indiana Jones or Han Solo than Tiberius.  An idea I struggle with to this day (see below), but find myself open to in this action film franchise refit.  And torturous emotional blows like the Kelvin attack, the destruction of Alderaan - I mean Vulcan, the parenting of Christopher Pike, and the presence of Leonard Nimoy's Spock help the film to make it's play for mainstream dollars.  2009's Star Trek managed the impossible, grabbing new fans to a dead franchise while still pleasing the fanboys of yore.  Allow it.

Star Trek Into Darkness:  "You should have let me sleep."  Spoiler Warning for those worried about the precious Mystery Box of JJ Abrams.  If you're looking for a more in-depth look at my histrionics and hyperbole than please feel free to read my full, raged-out review of Star Trek Into Darkness HERE.  But if I were to boil this film down into one word it would be "Dumb."  The film completely squanders the good will committed in the previous movie, practically ignoring the split-timeline conceit by white washing the North Indian sikh known throughout fandom as Khan Noonien Singh into the pasty, growly Benedict Cumberbatch.  Is that a Trekkie nitpick, or simply racist?  It's certainly the action of someone who never liked Star Trek or it's philosophy (see heinous Jon Stewart interview HERE).  But let's move past that, and let's even move past the fact that we're doing another Starfleet Revenge story immediately following the one told in the last film.  Let's even try to ignore screenwriter Roberto Orci's ham-fisted attempt to shoehorn his Truther agenda about the 9/11 Attacks into the mouths and actions of Admiral Peter Weller.  Star Trek Into Darkness is simply a bad movie.  A script that often has to tell you why so & so is bad (dial up BFF Spock Prime), and painfully relies on your fond memories of Star Trek's greatest cinematic adventure to wring the tears from your sockets.  Is it clever to reverse Wrath of Khan's climax, or just lazy?  It's certainly lazy to telegraph the action halfway through your film with Kirk's "I Suck At Being Captain" speech and the awkward "Hey Bones, what ya doin' with that dead Tribble?" tension breaker.  And where exactly is the Star Trek universe left at the end of this film?  Well, it's now a world that no longer needs starships thanks to portable transwarp beaming units.  And Khan's "super blood" has cured death.  Yes.  No one can die again in Star Trek.  I know tension is a ridiculous concept in a sequel filled franchise, but COME ON!  You cured Death!!!!!  What the hell?!?!?  Screw you.  But don't worry.  The super blood will be quickly ignored the next time around.

Homicide - Life on the Street Season 7:  The final season certainly lacks without the presence of Andre Braugher's Detective Pembleton.  Kyle Secor attempts to fill the void with his zen investigator, but he's just not Frank.  And it's obvious that NBC was drilling the producers with notes as more and more sexy cops are added to the cast and romantic interludes begin to invade the crime sprees.  I do really like Agent Giardello's introduction; Giancarlo Esposito is a perfect foil to papa Yaphet Kotto and it's a shame he only got one season to play sonnie.  There are not as many memorable cases this season - there's the extremely dated Internet Killings for Baylis to loose his mind over, and Detective Shepherd's beatdown brings an interesting dynamic to the squadroom.  But where are the White Glove Murder cases?  How 'bout a great guest star standalone?  Not really.  Season 7 is solid television, but it's also easily the weakest entry in the series.

The 1 Year Anniversary Meeting of The Ultimate Justice League of Extraordinary Book Club:  Man, just look at that cake.  Absolutely stunning.  Crafted courtesy of longtime member Jill, that delectable chocolate cake also represents every title we covered this year.  Can you spot my favorite marzipan decor?  Well, obviously it's the Blacksad piece that reigns supreme on top.  I really cannot believe this book club lasted a year.  When The Wife told me she wanted to start it, I thought it was a great endeavor but I just didn't think folks would last...especially after the heated Habibi meeting.  I am so happy to be proven the needless doubter.  Every month I greatly look forward to the gathering, and I though this week's Massive discussion to be one of the best yet.  Most folks seemed to be lukewarm on the material, but that lone enthusiast kept the conversation going.  By the end of the night I went from completely exhausted on Brian Wood to ready to pick up the next volume.  Thanks William.

The Massive:  This was the fourth post-apocalypse story we read this year (Get Jiro, Y The Last Man, & The Walking Dead being the others), and it was easily my least favorite.  A great earthly cataclysm sparked by global warming has left the planet practically covered in water.  The treehuggers that pilot The Kapital are on a mission to find their sister ship The Massive.  Along the way they encounter pirates, pirates, and more pirates.  The narrative simply wanders from one conflict to the next, and I'm never quite sure why we should care about the missing Massive or why even these characters think it's still floating around out there.  There seems to be some mystical mumbo jumbo at play in the background, but it's so slight that it fails to illicit any kind of wonder from this reader.  This could be one of those books like The Walking Dead or Preacher that needs a couple volumes to really heat up, but I'm barely interested enough to wait for the next volume in December.

Homicide - The Movie:  When Yaphet Kotto is shot during a political rally, all the detectives from season's past (even the dead ones) appear to hunt down the assassin.  This is much more the satisfying conclusion than what we got in Season 7, and it solidifies Homicide as the greatest Detective program to grace the boob tube.  However, it also proves that one time rookie cop Tim Baylis is a true whelp and never should have walked through those squad room doors.  His first case, the Adena Watson killing, ruined him and his downfall is the great tragedy of Frank Pembleton's life.  I still crave another look at these characters lives.  Where is Frank now?  Is he still teaching?  How's his relationship with his wife and kids?  I have a feeling that Tim Baylis destroyed him mentally, and whatever his future transformed into, it's a dark and sad place.  Homicide was never a happy go-lucky show.  It was a challenge.  The characters were fallible and often infuriating.  But it was rarely boring.  I miss it.

The Fast and The Furious:  With Star Trek crashed and burned behind me, it's time to shake off the fanboy pity and dive into an epic example of franchise stupidity.  The Fast and The Furious is a film that takes itself way too seriously.  Vin Diesel & Paul Walker are so desperate to be cool that they fail miserably with their stern staredowns and flailing fistfights.  Director Rob Cohen tries to sell you on the badass of car racing with horrendous CGI glimpses of carburetors and pistons.  The film is laughable and often boring; how this led to the mondo glory known as Fast Five is beyond me, but I'm so glad the teenyboppers kept showing up for these idiotic flicks, cuz The Rock would transform this saga into a beautifully sweaty exploration of beefy machismo.

--Brad