Showing posts with label Firefly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Firefly. Show all posts
Thursday, February 5, 2015
Comic Review: Prophet: Empire
The many threads of the many John Prophets are beginning to weave together into a tapestry of marvelous oddity. In this, the third volume of this Dune-esque science fiction epic, we witness the liberation of Earth, the waking of weapons, and connections to the past. Hero Johns and villain Johns, and everything in between.
Prophet is a wonderfully off the wall tale, the likes of which you just don’t see every day. It’s nowhere near as relatable or friendly as Star Wars or Firefly. It’s nowhere near as tame as Interstellar or Avatar. It does not help you, and does not care if you get it. Prophet is. Perhaps I’m ascribing too much to Brandon Graham and Co.’s work. But whatever the case, I’m loving this obscure, out there, trippy, freaky story, writ large on the face of a chaotic universe.
In previous reviews (volume 1, volume 2), I’ve mentioned the art. It remains. I’ve mentioned the ‘similarity’ to The Incal, Dune, Metabarons, and the like. That is all still true. It is a series that science fiction fans should be reading. Seek this out. It’s a punch in the brain, and it’s awesome.
Prophet: Empire
Authors: Brandon Graham, etc.
Artists: Simon Roy, etc.
Publisher: Image Comics
ISBN: 978-1-60706-858-7
-Matthew J. Constantine
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Matt’s Week in Dork! (3/18/12- 3/24/12)
A pretty good week. Got in a surprising number of movies again, considering how danged busy I was, and the fact that I had two days where I was gone from dawn to bed time and beyond (blast you inventory!!!). But the second such day was a great trip into the city.
Separate Ways: Weirdass lion-lady Karen Black can’t handle her loveless marriage. I can’t say that I blame her, as her husband is a boring dick who shuts her out at every opportunity. But, the longer the camera stares at her, the more I was reminded of Mask, and the more I felt for the husband (I know it’s mean, but she’s brutally unappealing in this film). And then a lycanthrope era David Naughton shows up! And he plays the sax. No kidding. However, this is just another one of those 70s style movies about relationships where everyone is awful and you have to wonder why anyone ever got together in the first place. Blink and you’ll miss Sybil Danning at the car shop.
Hot Target: New Zealand is the location for this smutty bit of fluff. 80sed-up tart Simone Griffeth looks like she just stepped out of a magazine ad for watches or jewelry, all bottle blonde and too red a lipstick and nail polish. Getting past the misquoting of Casablanca, and the absolute awful creepiness of the illicit affair, the nudity, of which there’s quite a bit, is awkward as all get out. This is the sort of thing Cinemax would go on to make time and again with Shannon Tweed.
Do or Die: Andy Sidaris is back with another round of guns, explosions, goofy humor, and big…I do mean big boobs. The plot is secondary. Something about Pat Morita sending hitmen after our leads. But whatever. You’re not watching Sidaris for the story, the acting, or any of that. A lot of familiar faces and familiar…well, there’s a lot in this movie you’ll have already seen if you’ve been following the franchise. More of the same, but that’s fine.
21 Jump Street: “F*%# you, Miles Davis!” I don’t know if anyone is more surprised than me that I loved this movie. I’m almost appalled, frankly. But this movie is really, really funny. I was curled up in a ball, tears streaming down my face, laughing so hard I thought I was going to choke. That’s not really common for me. The cast does a great job and the script is shockingly clever, even when it’s being stupid. And the biggest shock for me is how much I liked meathead Channing Tatum, a guy I’d have been perfectly happy to never see work again in my life, but who won me over at least for the length of this film.
Casa de mi Padre: Kind of like a Mexican version of Black Dynamite, this homage/parody of old school Mexi-schlock movies is very funny, and very goofy. There’s plenty of room fro the usual antics of star Will Ferrell, but it’s the villainous Gael Garcia Bernal who is the real stand-out. Every moment he was on screen I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. His cigarette acting alone should get him some kind of nod in the next award season.
Nude Nuns with Big Guns: Look, if you read the title of this movie and think, “Hmm…this seems like a movie for me,” then you should know what to expect. You pretty much get it. Grim violence, awful deeds, lots of nude nuns (some do indeed have large guns). The women aren’t especially attractive, and the men are especially repellant, but the overall movie was enjoyably trashy. Very 70s in vibe, which is what the whole neo-grindhouse thing is all about.
Cat in the Cage: Mr. Snookems or whatever he’s called, has to be the least threatening cat ever captured on film (no matter how dramatic the score gets). Other than Sybil Danning, this movie has pretty much no redeeming features. It’s boring, it’s nonsensical, and everyone’s reactions to everything is, in that typical Euro-cinema way, completely arbitrary. A cat? Screaming hysterics! A murder? Hmm. Walking down a hall? Total raging freak-out! Who are these people? Why is European film so full of people with emotions set on a randomizer? I don’t know, and this film doesn’t shed any light on it.
Hard Hunted: Some of the charm of the earlier films is missing by this point, but it’s still fun in that special Sidaris way. Lots of near pointless plot twists and turns. Occasional boobs. Occasional gun fights. Occasional acting. It’s what you expect.
Fit to Kill: “Are the pictures in English?” Andy Sidaris and his regulars are back, but this time they’ve brought Julie Strain in on the game. As fun and stupid as these movies are, they’re starting to feel like a public service message about the dangers of breast enhancements. Please ladies, just don’t do it.
Firefly: Firefly did in 14 episodes what most shows can’t do in three or four seasons. Creating a memorable cast of characters, thrilling adventures, and a cult-like devotion in fans the likes of which haven’t been seen since the original Star Trek. Playing with tropes of science fiction and the Western, it fills the screen with larger than life characters that both adopt and defy cliché. The Han Solo-like ‘rogue with a heart of gold’ Mal, the honorable whore Inara, the plucky farm girl with mechanical thumb Kaylee, and others. Sadly, one that also shows up is a Joss Whedon special, the idiot-savant waif/super-warrior River, a modern character cliché I can’t stand (unless played by Milla). Taking on science fiction and western stories gave us hover-train robberies, ultra-tech heists, Magnificent Seven stand-offs, and other fun stuff. While not perfect, it really is something special, and its frustrating brevity also makes each episode that much more special, never letting the show outstay its welcome. For me personally, the show captures that certain magical something about the rugged individualist, surviving on the fringes on his/her own accord. I’ve said it elsewhere, but Mal and Serenity always puts me in mind of Jake Cutter and Cutter’s Goose, or Charlie Allnut and the African Queen, or perhaps more obviously for many, Han Solo and the Millennium Falcon. Like the best science fiction, this tells good stories about interesting people, which should appeal to any with an open mind.
Serenity: After FOX’s horrible mishandling of the Firefly TV show, showing it out of order, changing its night, not giving anyone a chance to see it, much less for the show to develop a following, I’m quite sure nobody expected a movie to come about. But the show, like its protagonists, defied the odds. With success of sales on DVD and a vocal, rabid fanbase, a modest budget was cobbled together and a movie was made. Sadly, part of the translation to the big screen meant a watering down of the show’s style, dropping a good deal of the Western vibe that gave the show some of its unique charm. It also took a darker turn, which kind of made sense when you look at where the short lived show seemed to have been heading. And, at least the film actually answers some of the questions introduced in the show, like what’s up with River? and who are those Reaver folks? and why are they so danged freaky? The action is pretty good and the story is all right. The Operative makes for a pretty cool villain, and for this fan of the show, the treatment the crew gets was somewhat devastating (yes, there are deaths of main characters). But, when all is said and done, I still wasn’t fully satisfied. I’d have rather had another dozen episodes, or heck, maybe a couple of seasons. Still, at least it serves as an adequate capper to the series, which is better than many get (Twin Peaks, Enterprise, Farscape…well, Peacekeeper Wars was OK, I guess, etc.).
Parisian Love: A pretty forgettable bit of fluff about petty thieves and wealthy folk, and what happens when they get mixed up with each other, and of course, fall in love. It’s fairly well made, but paints with some broad strokes. The best thing about it is the glimpse into the look and style of the time. Houses and locations are often quite impressive, and while perhaps somewhat fantastic or stylized, still point toward a certain truth. I guess Clara Bow is charming in her way, but her way doesn’t especially charm me.
Down to the Sea in Ships: While it’s got some pretty cool footage of boats and locations, this tale of whaling vessels and Quaker love isn’t especially good. And man, is it title-card heavy. It’s primary notability comes from being the debut of Clara Bow, as a precocious young woman who hops a ship (though her story is secondary at best). I did like the Graduate-like wedding bit, though. Overall it was OK, but nothing special. Whaling is an ugly business, though.
I also got in a couple episodes of The Tomorrow People, which I’m still enjoying. Very weird show, but plenty of that crazy 70s British crazy.
Also got some reading in. I blew through a some Hellboy (read my review here). And I finished off a pretty good history book, 428 AD (read my review here).
And on Saturday, a friend and I went into DC to attend the Reason Rally. More on that later.
-Matt
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Matt’s Week in Dork! (3/11-3/17)
Not many movies this week. I ended up watching a lot of TV shows, though. And got me some reading done. But oddly, I was once again fairly social. I’ve become quite the social butterfly in recent months, which isn’t exactly a state I’m familiar or entirely comfortable with, but which I’m enjoying in my way.
Fly Me: What do those sexy stews get up to when they’re abroad? Kung-Fu, dancing, kidnapping, thumb wrestling, partying, and so much sex. Hong Kong is the place to go. And Tokyo makes a nice follow-up. But as anyone making a film in Southeast Asia knows, it’s not a party until Vic Diaz shows up (53 minutes in, if you’re keeping score). And am I crazy or is that love theme from a Super Mario level?
Cover Girl Models: Corman’s crew returns to Asia and you know Vic Diaz is gonna be there to meet ‘em (7 minutes in for those playing at home). A wet t-shirt starts things off, but then it’s Hong Kong and some dreary backgrounds for what would be some pretty uninspired modeling shots (Look at that picnic table! Ooo, and look at that broken down wharf! Hong Kong is so exotic!). We learn that modeling is mostly about spinning around. Not as crazy as Fly Me, but still soaked in low budget sleaze and bristling with young breasts.
Ghidorah The Three Headed Monster: Not quite as much fun as I remember it, this movie is goofy as all get-out, but takes FOREVER to go anywhere. Ghidorah is probably my favorite monster from the massive cast of beasts out of Toho, but he’s cooler elsewhere. Still, lots of great awkward dubbing. And the monster congress is something to see. OK, but there are better movies of the sort.
Charlie’s Angels: Season One: Sometimes, things you love as a kid don’t hold the same magic as an adult. But once in a while, you come across something that still captures that certain something. Charlie’s Angels is just such a thing for me. As soon as the girls walked on screen and I heard John Forsythe’s voice, I had a big smile on my face, and felt better about my day. With lovable goofball Bosley backing them up, Jill, Sabrina, and Kelly get into all kinds of trouble, wear AMAZING outfits I don’t think you’d get away with on TV today (maybe on FOX), and solve crime or something. I’ve always thought of Kelly as my favorite Angle what with her classic beauty and...well, what's about it. But now, more mature Matt has a deeper appreciation of Sabrina, with her smarts or something. Heck, I even enjoyed Farrah Fawcett in this show, and she normally aggravates the heck out of me (See: Logan’s Run). Add to the sexy ladies a veritable cornucopia of That Guy actors and future stars (clean shaven Selleck!!!) and you’ve got a formula for fun. And like so many shows of the 70s and early 80s, it doesn’t matter how dark things get, or what awful subjects the episode is about, they always end on a freeze-frame laugh. Fantastic.
The Three Musketeers: The newest in the interminable list of films loosely based of the Alexander Dumas serialized novel, this explosion filled silliness is too clumsy and too boring to be fun. Every line of ultra-cliché dialog is served with a knowing wink and nudge, like someone telling a lame joke who doesn’t understand that his audience gets it, and simply doesn’t find it funny. The Three Musketeers goes on my list with Robin Hood and King Arthur of subjects that NEVER need to be made into films again…EVER and for all time. But, that said, I was willing to give another campy Milla vehicle a go. And there are a few good moments, a few cool images, a couple OK action bits. But that occasional OK spice doesn’t make up for the rest of the meal you’ve got to muscle past.
On the TV front, not only did I finish the first season of Charlie’s Angels, and got a start on season 2, but I watched a bit more of From the Earth to the Moon, Tomorrow People, and started Boardwalk Empire, which I think I’m really gonna like. Steve Buscemi immediately grabbed me. He has such a beautifully grotesque face that can somehow express a dozen emotions and thoughts at the same time. I simultaneously love and hate, fear and pity him. And while I keep thinking how much he needs a bullet in the head, I can’t help but want him to come out ahead of the game.
Also this week, after catching Adam Baldwin on From the Earth to the Moon, I got a major hankering to watch Firefly again, which I’d been bouncing around in the back of my head for the better part of the last six months. I recruited Ben to watch the first episode, and we ended up finishing the first disk that day, and coming back the next to watch disk 2. Dang, but I love that show. Oh, sure, River makes me want to scream, she’s so ridiculously Joss Whedon she boarders on self parody (watch Dollhouse to see what happens when he crosses that border…or just don’t watch it. That’s better advice. Don’t watch it). But generally, the humanocentric (no aliens here) story of societal outcasts and outlaws scratching out a living on their own terms, far away from the comfort and conformity of civilization echoes a romantic element of Americanism that still calls to many of us. In the same way I watch The African Queen or Tales of the Gold Monkey and think to myself ‘that’s the life for me,’ I can absolutely see myself out in the Black doing whatever I can to keep flying.
And while waiting for the arrival of an old friend from out of town, I burned through another bit of mad genius from master of melancholy and surreality, Jason. See my review.
I am sad to have missed Lisa’s send-off for Davy Jones. I’ve been feeling a deep sense of Monkeeslessness in the last couple years, made that much more profound by Lisa and Brad’s talk of watching the show and Head, and going to see them live last year. One of these days, I’ll let the wave of crazy wash over me and do some kind of groovy marathon.
-Matt
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