Brad's Week in Dork! (2/24/13-3/2/13)

A light week.  Guess I was just taking it easy on the dorkdom front.  My enthusiasm for this year's Oscars was fairly extreme though - for the first time ever I managed to watch nearly every nomination including all of the major awards and even the short films.  Devouring that much content will get you excited for any award ceremony, even one that's as awkward and misguided as The Academy Awards.  At the very least I gotta appreciate Seth Macfarlane's obvious manhandling of the ceremony, hamfisting my favorite Federation Captain into the opening act.  Seeing Shatner floating above the stage was surreal and enjoyable, despite some lame brain comedy that didn't just fall flat, it sank like a (kidney) stone.

The big comic this week was Batman Incorporated #8.  The Big Shock of the issue was ruined for us weeks ago thanks to an annoying Tweeter, but DC Comics also ran the story in USA Today days before the release so it's hard to get upset at some anonymous internet troll when The New 52 can't keep their gobs shut either.  I get it, if you have the opportunity to promote an event in a major newspaper yer gonna do it, but does anyone in America not already reading funny books know or care about Damien Wayne?  And will that USA Today article send anyone running into the comic shops?  Not bloody likely.  But whatever, Grant Morrison is still killing it with his Bat-run and I'm dying to see how he wraps up this epic.

The 85th Annual Academy Awards:  Well, evaluating my predictions last week, I missed 6.  Argo took home the big prize; as did Daniel Day-Lewis, Jennifer Lawrence, & Anne Hathaway.  No big shocks there.  I was pleased to see Christophe Waltz win Best Supporting Actor - I guess that man should never stray too far from QT.  And speaking of ego incarnate, Tarantino shockingly took home the Best Original Screenplay Oscar and despite some chatter about homage vs originality, it's hard to believe that this is his first gold statue since his writing win for Pulp Fiction.  I was too cute in my thinking as far as the Best Director category was concerned.  Spielberg & Ang Lee did not split the vote for Russell, and Ang got his accolades for Life of Pi.  Not sure I can really hate on that, he did a fine enough job on that film.  My problems with Life of Pi stem from the content of the narrative not so much the filmmaking.  As far as the show itself goes, it was the usual mess of misfires and chintzy class.  I can't say that I full-on hated Seth Macfarlane as host (especially when you consider James Franco's cokehead turn of yesteryear), but I'm a little tired of the standup routine.  I wanted more of his soft shoe and less of his dull potty humor.  At the very least he did get Tommy Lee Jones to chuckle.  Kudos.  Best bits included dancing - Joseph Gordon-Levitt & Daniel Radcliffe, Charlize Theron & Channing Tatum.  I definitely want more film celebration and less mockery.  These Hollywood egos make such easy targets anyway, and it would be nice if The Academy Awards actually had respect for their art.  The tribute to Bond was nice and all, but not much more than a glorified DVD extra.

The Walking Dead Season 3 - "Aint No Judas":  Andrea comes crawling back to the prison, and Rick & Company want nothing to do with her.  Can't say I blame them, I was waiting the whole episode for Merle to pig stick her.  Of all the tragic interpretations from comic to screen, Andrea is easily the most brutally butchered in the writer's room.  As if Dale wasn't self righteous enough, Andrea takes up his mantel, screaming her all-knowing wisdom at her former gang of sadsacks.  As the show built to its final moments I was almost certain The Governor was going to slit her throat - no real SPOILERS here, but obviously this show is still concerned with stretching the season than deliver shock & awe.  Nothing important happened here.  You could probably skip this ep altogether and not even notice.  The sick thing is though, now that my respect for this show has pretty much vanished, I'm starting to really enjoy the presence of Michael Rooker.  He's the ham of the series, and this drab narrative certainly could seriously use some ham.

Batman Incorporated #8:  I'd warn you of spoilers, but DC pretty much gives it to ya on that cover above.  One of the most notable aspects to Grant Morrison's run on Batman has been the acceptance of Damian Wayne into the hearts of DC fanboys everywhere.  Seven years ago, Morrison reached back into the 1980s and yanked the forgotten child of Talia Al Ghul & Bruce Wayne out of an Elseworld's one-shot (Son of the Demon) and plopped him into continuity.  And for that "Batman & Son" storyarc we got a lot of bitching & moaning from the internet community.  However, through much hard work and creative labor, Morrison proved the new arrogant Robin to be not only the real deal Son of The Batman, but a sidekick worthy of both Wayne & original Boy Wonder Dick Grayson. Damian Wayne is what makes Grant Morrison my favorite Bat-Writer.  He does not dismiss the whacky, crazy, or stupid of comics.  He loves it all.  He uses it all.  Bat-mite.  Knight & Squire.  Zur-En-Arrh.  Bastard children.  They all exist in his universe.  He makes the square bricks fit into the triangular holes like the meanest block smashing infant.  And his crazy multicolored tapestry is set ablaze with this single issue...out of the ashes will hopefully arise his masterpiece.  Now we all know that Dead Ain't Dead in comic books.  Damian Wayne will return - just look to your left, that's the other once-dead Robin, Jason Todd waving at you.  But for Morrison, Damian is dead.  Don't expect this writer to script another animal-loving sentiment from him again.  And for my money, Batman Inc #8 has more punch and anger than anything Scott Snyder was trying to do with his Death of the Family arc found in the flagship sister title.  This has been a long time coming and I cannot wait to see Batman face-to-face with the mother & killer of his son.  It's gonna be ugly.

Justified Season 4 - "Outlaw":  Possibly my favorite episode of the season so far.  Raylan accidentally sets into motion events that land papa Arlo into the infirmary.  There father & son exchange more nasty familial hate, and the origin of Raylan's rage is obviously buried deep within their contempt-filled stares.  Meanwhile, across town, Boyd pits the Detroit Mafia against the rich bastards controlling Harlan and despite a close call, the quickdraw Raylan Givens puts Boyd on top of the backwoods Kentucky Empire.  Of course, Cousin Johnny has other plans.  Have we now reached a point where Ralyan & Boyd will ride this season out together?  It definitely feels like we're at the end even if the whole Drew Thompson mystery seems less important every day.

Nemo - Heart of Ice:  Taking place between Books 1 & 2 of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: Century, this one-shot is a much needed return to the spirit of classic Adventure Comics.  As much as I loved the reference-blitzing insanity of Century, it's nice to be reminded that Alan Moore doesn't treat everyone of his creations as an acid laced internal plunge into his Heart of Darkness.  This book picks up right as Captain Nemo's daughter (Pirate Jenny) robs the American tycoon, Charles Foster Kane of some treasure that Allan Quartermain would no doubt find appealing.  Nemo's spawn escapes to Antarctica, where following her fathers rambling journals, discovers The Mounts of Madness.  Still, as much fun as you can have spotting Lovecraft and Tom Swift, Heart of Ice is singularly enjoyable as an Adventure Comic.  It's impossible for you (or at least me) to grasp all the literary links, but it's less important here than the more recent LXG outings.  Alan Moore & Kevin O'Neal are simply concocting a fun read - the winks are cute, but not necessary.

Gattaca:  Matt's been bothering me for a long time (possibly our entire existence together) to watch this flick.  It's something that's obviously near and dear to his heart.  That much anticipation can sometimes make it difficult to enjoy and I tend to drag ass when people shove dvds in my hand.  I know that's why he's never seen Pat Garrett & Billy The Kid - a film I generally pester him about.  This week he finally forced me in front of the television to watch his blu ray copy.  And it's a solid flick.  I'm not the biggest Ethan Hawke fan, but I appreciate how he inhabits a good boy 1950s attitude.  In fact, I like the general warmth that his character has towards space travel and adventures in science.  Not sure I totally agree with Matt in regards of the film's final answer to the question of Frankensteinian anti-science storytelling, and the final moments for Jude Law felt anti-climactic as well as rushed.  And yeah, I really don't like the cold blooded Uma Thurman.  She's meant to be a sterile character but she felt generally lifeless.

The Imposter:  A fascinating and mentally frustrating documentary.  There were points in the narrative that had me shouting at the screen "WHAT!?!?" or "YOU'VE GOT TO BE JOKING!"  Similar to my response to the heinous actions discovered in The Invisible War, this documentary boggled my mind as far as what people were willing to do as well as willing to accept as a means to Keep On Trucking.  A 13 year old boy goes missing in San Antonio, Texas.  Three years later, a 24 year old Frenchman claiming to be that child is accepted by both the family and the US Government.  Told talking head style from the mouths of The Imposter, the G-Men, and the family members; the mystery never quite unravels but its path is both shocking and deeply sad.  I really hope that the documentarians return to this subject further down the line, I want to know more - I need to know more.

FF #4:  Matt Fraction has delivered one of the few standouts from the Marvel Now relaunch.  Funny, considering how ordinary his sister book, The Fantastic Four, feels in comparison with this oddball beauty.  And this latest issue is an even better Valentine than last month's cute, but gloomy Sue & Reed tale.  The Moloids are madly in love with She-Hulk - an impossible, aching teacherly crush.  When they learn of her prospective date, The Moloids must act drastically.  They partner with Bentley-23, attempt to raise monsters out of oceans, and rape the mind of hapless waiters.  But all their efforts hopelessly bring She-Hulk closer into the arms of her lover.  Mike Allred continues to kill it on art, and I wanted to instagram nearly every panel of this book.  Final words: just darling.

The Rocketeer - Hollywood Horror #1:  I wanted to love this book.  Mark Waid's previous Rocketeer mini, Cargo of Doom, was pure pulpy bliss.  However, Roger Langridge's work on this first issue feels rather ordinary and I don't respond well to J Bone's Darwyn Cookey art style.  It's another story in which evil scientist and government goons want Cliff's backpack - does this really have to be the plot of every Rocketeer comic?  But I'm still continuing.  After all, Cargo of Doom was only a so-so first issue and the promise of Lovecraftian tentacles (hmmmm, a theme this week) and Betty's female empowerment meddling is appealing.  We'll just have to see next issue.

Hawkeye #8:  I was kinda lukewarm on Fraction's last issue, but #8 is back in the saddle of greatness.  The mysterious redhead from previous issues appears again to make-out with Clint and embarrass him in front of all his exes (Black Widow, what a bitch).  She's got something dark & dangerous stored inside a safe, and the combination to its secrets are hidden within a batch of yellowed romance comics.  David Aja has all kinds of fun with those fake covers.  What I love so much about this title is how Fraction can take one & done storytelling and still manage to complete an overarching narrative.  The Bro Gang is back, they're chit chatting it up with The Owl & The Kingpin.  Life is only going to get more difficult for my new favorite Avenger.  Cannot wait to see more awkward pain land on his doorstep.

Gone With The Wind:  Woot!  I completed another Cinematic Resolution!  And who knew it would be so closely tied in emotion with Birth of a Nation?  I certainly had no idea I would react so poorly to the plight of Scarlet O'Hara.  But when I saw it on the AFI Silver's calendar I knew I wanted my first experience with this film to be on The Big Screen.  Not at grandma's house.  Not on Turner Classic Movies or TNT.  This movie is grande and it's meant to be seen 100 feet tall.  So The Wife, Matt, & I jumped in the car and flew to the theater Saturday afternoon.  And we all hated it.  Yes folks, wait for it...I Hated Gone With The Wind.  **GASP**  **CRY HAVOC**  and **BOO!**  One friend on Facebook told me I'm just a victim of overblown expectations.  Maybe.  But I genuinely knew nothing about this film other than "Frankly Scarlet, I don't give a damn," that it was tied to the Civil War, and that it was really, really long.  I had no idea that Vivian Leigh's Scarlet was just a manipulative and heinous human being.  I'm told we're supposed to despise her.  Mission accomplished.  I wanted to slap her across the face for nearly the entire four hour run time.  Especially since she seems to enjoy slapping the hell outta her slaves and lovers.  Clark Gable is a stunning brute.  I enjoyed his spitting dialogue and self-depricating morality.  At least he knew he was a monster.  A rapist to boot, but thankfully when morning comes, Scarlet seems to enjoy the act of rape.  No means yes after all.  But I can enjoy a film peppered with deplorable human beings (see LA Confidential, Unforgiven, French Connection, Citizen Kane, and a million other movies).  What really irked me about Gone With The Wind is its general romanticizing of the good old days - you know where "the sound of negro laughter" filled the stables.  The title itself is an insult, sweeping across the screen as blacks pick cotton in the field.  Just gross.  I love overwrought melodrama as much as the next guy, but Gone With The Wind left a shameful taste in my mouth.  Not nearly as bitter or sad as Birth of a Nation, but it shared the same flavor.

--Brad

Tony Stark Builds Neat Stuff For Good Old Fashion Revenge - Iron Man 3 Final Trailer Is Rad!

President William Sadler takes the podium: "The Mandarin Must Be Stopped."  Hell to the yeah.  Iron Man finally gets his Big Bad Nemesis.  No Jeff Bridges mongering.  No Mickey Rourke drooling.  Straight up Shakespearean villainy.   I think Shane Black is going to knock all us fanboys on our asses.  I immediately want to pop in Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.  We're gonna get the Tony Stark snark, but we're also gonna get a whole heap of battered heroism.  Not to mention Iron Man drones and possibly a Hulk Buster.  If you watch this trailer and tell me you aren't pumped for May 3rd than just pucker up and enjoy the next Jane Austen retelling.  But if you ask me, it looks like Marvel Studios totally understands how to follow the Epic Brawl of The Avengers - get personal, get Khaned.



--Brad

Matt’s Week in Dork! (2/24/13-3/2/13)

    Gah.  Thank goodness for the brief escape of movies.  Not my best week.


Lone Wolf and Cub: Baby Cart to Hades:  “Getting laid is just about the best part of being in our line of work.”  Ogami Itto is back with his boy in a cart, killing assassins, dispensing etiquette lessons with extreme prejudice, and scaring the locals.  The structure of these films is rather strange.  I guess in part because the lead characters are simply wandering around, and I guess maybe because it was originally a comic.  Though there are longer stories and themes, a great deal of the action takes place in little episodes.  In this one especially, by the end of the first 20 minutes, we’re seeing what seems like a climactic duel.  These movie teach valuable, if sometimes obvious lessons, like ‘don’t stick any part of yourself into the mouth of a woman who hates you.’  Seems obvious enough, but some people seem not to know.  I suppose any class based society, especially one with a high value on face, will have a complicated system of behavior, but dang the whole Bushido, Way of the Warrior thing seems unnecessarily complex.  I feel bad for the pistol packing bandito.  He seemed like a nice enough guy.  All the various factions and interests pulling this way and that in this movie get pretty nuts.  Everyone seems to have screwed over someone, or been screwed over by someone.  And everyone is out for blood.  They get it.  By the bucket.  Ogami kills almost as many people as John Matrix.

The Mechanic:  “My friends are so happy they’re killing themselves.”  The 70s, a time when leading men didn’t have to be handsome.  Heck, they could be pug-ugly sombitches like Charles Bronson.  Here the master of the ‘stache plays a consummate professional, hired by mobsters to take care of problems.  He smokes a pipe.  He’s physically fit.  He listens to classical music.  He knows kung-fu.  He looks at art.  He has a swanky bachelor pad.  He hooks up with love-hungry dames (well, money-hungry).  He lives the dream.  Sure, sometimes you have to blow up a sad old dude.  But that’s why they call it work.  When Keenan Wynn shows up, you know there’s gonna be some kind of trouble.  That trouble ends up being Stringfellow Hawk himself, Jan-Michael Vincent, a punk looking to get more out of life.  But you know the kid is trouble.  He’s just too brash to not cause problems.  Once again, the mob suits think it’s a good idea to mess with their trained killer. Why would you do that?  You’re just begging for trouble.  It’s stupid.  Let him do his thing, pay him what you owe, and be cool.  It’s a PG movie from the 70s, so there’s nothing kid-friendly about it.  It’s not as extreme as some, so it would probably only get a PG-13 today, especially because there’s no nudity (the most evil thing imaginable in the eyes of the MPAA).

Assassination:  “Oh, boy, am I gonna miss Nancy Reagan.”  When I saw that Cannon symbol pop up at the beginning of this movie, then Golan and Globus?  Oh, man.  I knew I was in for a treat (or I hoped).  Old man Bronson is tasked with protecting the First Lady.  You know that’s gonna be good.  Awkwardly directed, poor sound design, stilted dialog.  Then Jill Ireland’s incalculably stupid First Lady actually shows up and the magic happens.  He’s so surly.  She’s so bitchy.  There’s an Asian woman named Charlie (not kidding).  I think this movie was doing ‘jazz hands’ it was so silly.  Man, this movie is a turd.  It feels like it would be good fodder for the MST3K boys.  But with them out of the picture, it’s up to us to carry on the good fight and watch crap like this.  Michael Ansara shows up to add his own brand of class, but it’s nowhere near enough.  The movie ends up feeling WAY longer than it really is, becoming quite excruciating by the hour mark.  And man, Jill Ireland is aggravating.

The Big Sleep:  “Would you happen to have a Ben Hur 1860?”  Another classic, one might even say iconic Humphrey Bogart crime films, it isn’t a perfect movie by any stretch.  But it’s full of the usual charm, and those little exchanges that make it stand out.  The whole sequence in the book shop with Dorothy Malone is probably the most obvious, but for a reason.  The girl is adorable, and there’s a sweet, almost innocent, sexual tension that is fun to watch.  If only I had a fraction of the panache (or the bottle of pretty good rye) that Bogart has, maybe this would be my typical visit to the book store.  Heck, there are gorgeous dames wherever Bogart goes in this movie.  Even the cabbie.  Tons of back stabbing, twisting of knives, shady behavior, and yeah, murder.

The Thing:  “Nothing wrong with this Norwegian.”  Hands down one of the best horror films of all time, and a great science fiction flick, to boot.  Adapted from the creepy 30s story Who Goes There?, it captures the camaraderie of men on the frontier, as well as paranoia and phobia.  A Lovecraftian alien stalks an Antarctic research base and it could be inside anybody.  1982 was an amazing year in film, giving us several classic films.  The Thing is one of those greats.

Gattaca:  More cautionary tale than the typically anti-science we’re normally subjected to in science fiction films, this looks at the dangers presented by the abuse of genetic engineering and gene sequencing.  A retro-50s style world where traditionally conceived children become de facto second class citizens, while the world is the oyster of those who have been crafted to be superior.  A guy with bad eyesight and a high potential for a tricky ticker can’t settle for cleaning toilets.  He’s dreamed of going to space since he was a little boy, and being genetically in-valid won’t stop him.  Masquerading as a genetically superior person, he manages to get himself on the docket for launch.  But it all comes tumbling down when a supervisor is murdered and undue attention falls on the potential astronauts at Gattaca.  The 50s look and ‘gee shucks’ hunger for space exploration balance well with the murder mystery and triumph of the human spirit story.  And though the script urges caution, it does not actually condemn genetic engineering.  The superior people are not evil.  Some are perhaps unsatisfied because things have come too easy, but they are not evil.  The discrimination faced by the un-modified is obviously also bad.  At some point over the last 30 or so years (maybe a bit more) stories like this, those urging cautious advancement, avoidance of potential dangers presented by advancing technologies, gave way to simple fear mongering and anti-science/anti-reason stories.

Doctor Who: The Trial of a Time Lord: The Ultimate Foe:  “All my travelings throughout the universe, I have battled against evils, against power-mad conspirators.  I should have stayed here.”  The final story in the season-long arc is pretty lame.  Frankly, the whole season was pretty blah.  And of course, they bring the Master back.  Gah.  Not a great exit for Colin Baker.  It’s too bad.  I have actually come to really enjoy Baker as the Doctor.  It’s too bad he was saddled by less than amazing scripts.

Nomads of the North:  Trouble is brewing in Canada when a country girl and her sick old father hit bad times, and Raoul won’t come back to save the day.  Meanwhile, a puppy and a bear cub have adventures in the wilderness.  How will these stories converge?  Watch and find out!  A lot of this movie seems to be ‘let’s film some cute animals and see what they do.’  But there’s always time for Father Murder-Face!  The story kind of wanders.  It’s supposedly based on a book, but I can’t imagine that being any good.  Who knows.

The Shock:  Sinister old-timey Chinatown is the launching point of this Lon Chaney vehicle.  Oddly, Chinatown only seems to have like three Asians in it.  Chaney is a crippled wheeler-dealer, sent by the evil (white) lady who runs local crime, to a rural town where he falls for a local cutie.  But she’s betrothed to another.  Oh, dear.  Standard twists and turns, then EARTHQUAKE!!!  Neither this, nor Nomads of the North were especially good, but interesting looks at less than classic films being made in the silent era.

    I finally tapped back into Farscape after a long hiatus.  Still super weird.  The f-dup love of Aeryn and John, a planet full of degenerate spirit talkers, dangerous escaped criminals (well, more dangerous escaped criminals) back stabbers, clones, Stark mysteriously disappearing again, and all the stuff you expect from one of the craziest shows to ever hit the airwaves.

The She Beast:  “For running over a chicken you won’t get more than two years.”  No idea what the quality of the original film might have been.  But this DVD is terrible.  Grainy, pan & scan, bleached out colors, and horrible audio.  The movie itself, once one gets past its presentation, is pretty lame.  Witches, Dracula, satanic cults, and various tomfoolery.  Barbara Steele and her Marty Feldman eyes runs into supernatural trouble in Eastern Europe.  But not before her husband nearly face-humps a peeping tom to death.  This movie sucks.

    After a really long and unintentional break, I got back to Space Academy.  Another of those kid-aimed ultra-low budget shows from the 70s.  It’s OK, but not especially good.  The cast is bland and of course, Dr. Smith from Lost in Space is awful.  When you realize that this show was from around the same time as the UK’s Tomorrow People, its quality appears rather diminished.  And it’s all in the writing, as neither show had especially sophisticated effects.

    On Saturday, before attending a gathering at a Reston bar to commemorate the closing of the Reston Barnes & Noble, Brad, Lisa, and myself went to the AFI Silver to see another of Brad’s 2013 movie resolutions, Gone With the Wind.  It’s a movie I’ve always kind of wanted to revisit, after my less than successful attempt back in the 80s.  My mom and I had tried to watch it, but I bailed after 15 or 20 minutes, and she fell asleep for most of its 4 hour run.  I was always a fan of movies, and I loved the classics, but it just didn’t hold me.  So, I figured now would be a good time to give it a go, and on the big screen no less.  What a way to see this classic.  AFI’s number 2 film of all time.  This was gonna be great!

Gone With the Wind:  F*&% this movie and the horse it rode in on…and then beat to death.  Before I get into anything else, I have to say that, with the exception of Birth of a Nation (which people have had the good graces and sense to turn their collective backs upon), this is about the most racist film I’ve ever seen.  (Political meeting?!  You mean Klan rally you assholes!)  It’s bloody awful.  Just awful.  The only consolation is that, amazingly, nobody was in blackface.  But every black character is a horrible exaggerated stereotype that made me squirm in my seat and want to watch Django Unchained just to get the taste out of my mouth.  How many more times could they wistfully talk about the good old days of Southern chivalry and how gallant and honorable all those slave owning, inbred degenerates were.  Please, let’s hear again how those Yankees were evil for forcing men to work (totally different from slavery…’cause this time it’s us).  I feel like this movie took a crap in my head.  Scarlett O’Hara now sits alongside Holly Golightly in my pantheon of most despicable depictions of womankind in cinema, made all the worse by her (and Holly’s) beloved status among young girls.  Were there ever two worse role models?  A fickle, money hungry, self-centered monster and a ditzy whore.  Great for the kids.  As Scarlett destroys everything and everyone she can rope into her orbit of bitchiness, we are subjected to crying fit after crying fit, shrill screechings, and human ugliness in a rainbow of flavors.  In fact, there are only maybe two characters in the entire thing that don’t make me wish Sherman’s March had been a lot wider…and hotter.  Clark Gable is pretty awesome as the dashing rogue who manages to have the fickle monster’s number.  Sadly, some devil drives him to love the beast, and he dashes himself against her treacherous shores on more than one occasion.  Oh, and let’s not forget the drunken rape followed by the blissful morning-after glow.   …What the F&*%?!  F&%$ this movie!  It’s so bloody disgusting and dreadful, with such a sickness at its heart that in spite of its bloated, four hour run-time, I wasn’t bored until the last 45 minutes or so.  I was sustained by hatred and rage.  Getting to the technical aspects, I know some quality was lost due to a pretty bad print.  But the whole thing felt ultra-artificial.  Even when everyone was outside.  I think that may have a lot to do with the coloring techniques of the time (similar to The Adventures of Robin Hood), though I’ve seen other movies from around then that looked better.  There were a few really beautiful shots, with some interesting composition.  Sadly, the Max Steiner score was kind of awful, and he‘s usually good.  That theme got into my head like an terrible pop song.  Every three or four minutes, it plays again, or some variant on it does.  By the intermission, I was so flippin’ sick of hearing that one musical phrase (da-DEE-da-da) over and over, I wanted to scream.  Well, like Birth of a Nation, I can check this off my ‘to see’ list and thankfully never have to sit through it again.  The movie made me wish I could travel back in time and Sherman my own way through the South and pee all over everything after it burned.  F*^% this movie so hard!  So hard it wakes up the next morning and happily hums and drinks its tea, gets pregnant with my hate-baby and then falls down some stairs.

Just got raped.  Not kidding.

The Mysterious Lady:  Greta Garbo, man.  I’d always heard about her, and I’d seen pictures.  But seeing her in action makes all the difference.  You can totally understand why everyone went gaga for her.  Not only is she beautiful, but she has a naturalness in front of the camera that stands out in that era, and there’s something in her eyes that speaks of pleasures and dangers beyond a normal man’s experiences.  Like the femme fatale of later Film Noir, she is the inspiration for men to do stupid things, to get into all sorts of trouble, and to fall into soul shaking love/lust.  Beyond that, the movie is a fun little spy caper, though there isn’t much to in by way of plot.  Still, it has some good moments.

The Temptress:  Another Greta Garbo film where she’s destroying men and they’re loving her for it.  This one it shot with some serious panache and style.  The fade in to the rich banker’s party from his photo is very well done, and the party itself is lavish and sumptuous, but sinister as well.  This one is odd, because Garbo isn’t exactly the monster everyone seems to think she is.  I think she’s actually completely honest, only professing love for one man.  But every man destroys himself and his friends on the alter of her beauty, every man that is, except the one she loves.  I’d feel pretty bad for her, except that she doesn’t really stop any of the men.  I wouldn’t say she leads them on, but she doesn’t try to stop them, either.  It’s weird.  Visually the movie is quite striking.  And it has a whip fight.  You don’t see that too often.

    And we watched another couple episodes of Game of Thrones.  Very entertaining, very grim show.  Lots of strong performances.  And things are getting much stranger.  I’m very curious to see where it all leads.  And they toned down the sex after the first couple episodes featured a bit too much.  I don’t have a problem with the sex when it furthers the story, just when it starts to get in the way, which was becoming a concern for a bit.

What, does this seem odd?

    In preparation for watching The Thing, I sat down to the original short story, Who Goes There? by John W. Campbell Jr.  Sometimes one forgets that Lovecraft’s writing style doesn’t seem archaic because it was written in the 20s, but because he was consciously emulating earlier styles.  In many ways, Who Goes There? reads like a modern story.  A few uses of older phrases or different vocabulary aside, there is little to set it apart, stylistically from a horror story of 30, 20, or 10 years ago.

-Matt

Brad's Week In Dork! (2/17/13-2/23/13)

Blaxploitation Month never really happened.  I'm starting to wonder if I have these epic movie marathons in me anymore.  My brain is just so scattershot; right now I can't seem to focus on one particular concept or idea - I want to jump all over the place.  Oh well.  I cranked out another batch of Jim Brown flicks and I think I'm gonna continue with the man well into March.  Dying to rewatch Dark of the Sun, Black Gunn, and Slaughter.  And I've been youtubing his final martian showdown in Mars Attacks over and over and over.  The man is just so supremely badass.

But the most fun I've had this week, and the program that has kept me from rabbit holing into the Blaxploitation genre, is David Milch's Deadwood.  I have been downright giddy lavishing over the first season with The Wife, and I cannot begin to describe how lovely it is to be married to someone who appreciates the word "cocksucker" as much as I do.  Huzzah, I say!  And to witness The Wife's transformation from an Ian McShane hater into one of his proud, dirty flock has been a great reward.  We've also been picking away at LOST & the last season of Supernatural, but it's Deadwood that has really stuck in her consciousness.  And that's beautiful.

A Good Day To Die Hard:  Yippee Ki-Yawn.  That pretty much sums up my feelings for this fifth and hopefully final entry in the Die Hard franchise.  I really loved the silly, smiley trailer as well as the general concept of Papa McClane devastating the USSR - I mean Russia (so awesomely 80s!) as a means of reconnecting with his 007 son.  And Jai Courtney is pretty much a spot-on spawn of Bruce Willis.  He's got the head cock, the smirk, the general blue collar attitude.  However, director Stuart Moore just sucks the life right outta the action.  A Good Day to Die Hard is nearly 90 minutes of continuous (PG-13 clothed in R) violence, but the camera pathetically mimics the Paul Greengrass style with too-tight closups and never-settle editing.  The result is a snooze; I checked out ten minutes into the initial bumper derby car chase and never got back into the story.  I opened my eyes for a couple of F Bombs as well as Cole Hauser's pointlessly brief G-man.  So if Willis can't score with his go-to Die Hard franchise, Schwarzenegger & Stallone might as well hang up their icons.  Time for these beasts of the 1980s to reevaluate their twilight years - you can't go home again, move on, find new parts to play.

Deadwood - Season 1:  When does Deadwood become my favorite thing ever?  I'm talking books, movies, comics, tv.  Deadwood reigns supreme in my heart.  The first episode directed by Walter Hill is a bit of a clunker.  It's not terrible tv, but the actors don't have their characters just yet, and David Milch & company are still developing the outlaw nation setting.  It takes a few hours - Wild Bill needs to be executed so reluctant sheriff Seth Bullock can complete his hero worship.  The Dude has to reconnoiter the rim and shuffle (get chucked) off this mortal coil.  But once the pieces fall into place and the Shakespearean horror takes full bloody effect, Deadwood climbs to the top of My Favorite Things list.  We all know how much I love Timothy Olyphant's Raylan Givens, and the deep buried rage of Seth Bullock could very well be his great grandfather.  It had been far too long since I visited the Black Hills.  This show pretty much birthed my enthusiasm for Westerns.  Sure, Clint Eastwood's Unforgiven was the beginning, but I didn't understand that film until I rewatched it through the prodding prism of HBO's mesmerizing psycho drama.  And that Best Picture reexamination led to Glendon Swarthout's novel, The Shootist, and the obsession with oaters was complete.  The Wife doesn't quite hold the show in the extreme esteem that I do, but I was pleasantly surprised to see her fall hard for this foul world.  On to the second season.

Warm Bodies:  This was fun.  Cute.  I'm just so darn sick of the Romero knockoffs; it's nice to see a zombie film approach the genre from a different angle even if it is the Teen Genre (I can't believe it's actually become a genre).  Nicholas Holt narrates the film as our reluctant flesheater, his body returns to life after eating the brains of Teresa Palmer's boyfriend - the awkwardly eyebrowy David Franco.  While digesting a little knowledge his heart begins to beat again and the ultimate family friendly necropheliac film is born.  You gotta love how wonderfully prepackaged this sickie has been presented to the public and it's much better than it has any right to be, especially when you compare it to other teen hits like Twilight and The Hunger Games.

The Walking Dead Season 3 - "Home":  Definitely a stronger episode than the last, but the bad taste of "The Suicide King" is still swamped on my tongue.  It annoys me how no one at the prison is addressing how crazy brains Rick has become.  The man lost his shit last episode and when we find his crew again they're just arguing amongst themselves like usual, but not one brings up the specter attuned Rick - who wobbles away to shout at the woods.  The Governor & Andrea bicker as well, & the crybaby dictator launches a meek attack on the prison.  I dig his Trojan Horse assault, but this war better reach epic heights before the season ends.  I hate to continue comparing this show to the comic book series, but where are Robert Kirkman's balls?  That man loves to punish his characters but AMC seems scared to create no-turning back scenarios.  Weaksauce.

Savage Wolverine #2:  Still fun.  But I want more Frank Cho Shanna and less Frank Cho Wolverine.  But since this is a Logan title I guess I just have to accept that as an impossibility.  A new guy (ugh, more ladies please Frank) shows up with some techno force field, but the mystery doesn't deepen it just gets more foggy - I have no clue what's going on or why I should care.  But I'm sticking to it for Frank's She Devil, and I'm thinking she's going to have Logan wrapped around her thong - I mean, finger, in no time flat.

Captain America #4:  Unless something drastic happens, this is the last time I write about Rick Remender's Captain America.  I'm going to keep on reading cuz I love Cap so much I will torture myself with horrendous plotting.  The first page reads: Eleven Years Later.  Captian America still has a Zola living in his chest, and that makes the parenting of his clone baby a little difficult.  I guess I can appreciate how balls out bananas this title has become, but it's just so damn stupid.  And ugly.  I'm no longer amused with JRJR's renderings, all his beasts look the same and his kids are a bunch of balloon heads.  I'm done with this Marvel Now horror show.

Nova #1:  I don't know anything about Nova - only that he belongs to a space corps that looks pathetically similar to DC's Green Lantern Corps.  But I've enjoyed Jeph Loeb comics in the past, even the books in which he's partnered with Ed McGuinness.  Sam Alexander is a bratty teenager living in a dirt heap of a town reminiscent of The Last Starfighter's trailer park hell hole.  His lifetime has been filled with his father's stories of space war and he's sick of it.  But when pop goes missing and Rocket Raccoon appears at the end of his bed, Alexander is given the chance to suit up.  A fun enough intro, I'll keep going.

BPRD 1948 #5:  I'm not sure I loved this mini as much as the previous BPRD prequels - I'm gonna need to read it as a whole before I pass judgement.  But right now I can confidently state that I enjoyed the tiny moments with little Hellboy than I did the big plot with Professor Bruttenholm.  The kid's B story regarding his appearance is some of the most heartfelt storytelling to come out of the Mignolaverse.  Anyone who has ever asked "What are those goggles on Hellboy's head?" should look to this miniseries for their origin.  Artist Max Fiumara perfectly captures the sadness behind this moment.

Saga #10:  Gah!  Brian K Vaughen why must you keep killing off my favorite characters in this book!?!?!?  If you're not careful I'll jump ship cuz the main Romeo & Juliet couple are not enough for me to keep reading; it's the crazy alien beasties that I really want to explore.  The moment Prince Robot or The Will are gone so will I.

The Split:  Easily the weakest movie adapted from a Richard Stark novel (this time out it's The Seventh), The Split nevertheless has one of the most fascinating casts ever assembled.  You've got Jim Brown up front as the Parker stand-in.  Ernest Borgnine, Jack Klugman, Warren Oates, and Donald Sutherland bickering amongst themselves as Brown's goon squad.  Gene Hackman is the local law enforcement.  And James Whitmore is the psychotic outsider threatening their big score.  That is one hell of a cast.  So why does The Split fail so miserably?  Well, it's boring!  And lifeless!  And so damn frustrating.  Brown & Borgnine do have a pretty badass brawl in the middle of the picture and the cast makes it worth a watch if not a purchase, but when this film should be exploding with character actor rage, The Split sputters to a climax.  A real Hollywood bummer.

The Slams:  This is a little bit better than The Split, but still not the exploitation classic you want it to be.  Jim Brown is arrested after a nasty little double cross heist and lands behind bars with an array of Roger Corman savages (this is brother Gene's production).  There he must fend for himself in the laundry rooms and the metal shop while big burly dudes try to pummel the missing million dollar loot from his memory.  Brown concocts an escape plan with his girlfriend and an outsider pimp, but the violence never gets as extreme as it should for this kinda picture - I feel like Gene Corman and director Jonathan Kaplan are attempting a more classic approach to this cheapie production when it should just throw itself into the muck of its setting.  Frankly, the poster is better than the movie.

Justified Season 4 - "Money Trap":  Jody, the dirtbag criminal with a weakness for airbags last seen in the first episode of this season, returns here as the cold blooded killer of Raylan's ex.  There is some Elmore Leonardy side story  involving a wannabe filmmaker and the ridiculously named Jackie Nevada but this Justified entry succeeds thanks to another classic climax confrontation.  Not to mention we get some serious Papa Arlo hate in the last few minutes.  This season is burning towards its climax but we don't feel any closer to the Drew Thompson mystery.  Still, it's nice to get a breather from the plot and have a moment for Raylan to showdown.

The Island:  The film starts off in the vein of a Friday the 13th slasher, with some rich yucks on a yacht getting hacked apart with a variety of cutting tools.  But this is as gory as it gets - The Island might be a part of the Scream Factory label but it totally belongs in the seafaring goofiness of Peter Benchley.  Michael Caine & his brat kid crash land on a LOST-like island; there they encounter a savage race of pirates led with despicable charm by the garish David Warner.  Caine takes five minutes to defend his groin from a muddy pirate lady but quickly succumbs to her nether regions.  Ah, romance.  This is just a weird damn film.  And Caine is the perfect lead for this nutter.  The man is the master of the agape stare and he can match sleaze for sleaze when battling prehistoric pirate villains.

El Condor:  "If my mother was a whisky cow the milk from her tit couldn't be any sweeter than that."  Oh man, Lee Van Cleef is a degenerate louse, goofily grimacing his way into our hearts while plundering for gold with calvary killer Jim Brown.  El Condor is a strange buddy cop Western with both Van Cleef and Brown playing for laughs and miraculously succeeding.  El Condor is peppered with fun bits of weirdo villainy and violence, as well as decent amounts of B Movie nudity.  Unlike The Split & The Slams, El Condor is a lost should-be exploitation classic - And a Western to boot!  So good it sent me running to that other Jim Brown cowboy classic -

100 Rifles:  Jim Brown is a Marshall down from America hunting the bandit smile of Burt Reynolds.  But once he finds his man, he also discovers the bosom of Raquel Welch and the next thing he knows he's wrapped up in a Mexican Revolution.  100 Rifles is packed with typical Burt Reynolds hijinks, but its more Sharky's Machine than Cannonball Run.  Everyone is happy to be committing violence and it's all for a good cause; we can smile along with our trilogy of leads, even when the tone jumps to the shockingly tragic.

--Brad