The Storyteller's Journal-Celebrating The Best of Storytelling in Film, TV, Games, and Comics

Movie Review - Inglorious Basterds

2009-08-26T06:42:00.000-07:00

In describing Quentin Tarantino’s Inglorious Basterds, allow me to begin by skipping the hyperbole and overstatement that would only echo the sentiments of scores of other critics and simply say that Inglorious Basterds was the single most entertaining film of the summer. Period.

Well, I tried.

Now, I’m going to further parrot my fellow critics’ enthusiasm: Inglorious Basterds is a masterpiece. This film is storytelling at its brightest, sharpest and most engaging. In fact, one can only find flaws by nitpicking Tarantino’s indulgence in long stretches of dialogue and quirky stylistic flourishes. Ultimately, those flaws pale in comparison to wonderful whole of the cinematic experience that is Inglorious Basterds.

Contrary to the trailers, Basterds is more than the story of Brad Pitt’s Lt. Aldo “The Apache” Raine and his ragtag Jewish-American, plus a few German defectors, “special ops” squad as they dare to slaughter as many Nazis as humanly possible during the height of World War II. It is the story of Shoshanna Dreyfus (Melanie Laurent), Col. Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz), Bridget von Hammersmark (Diane Kruger), and so many more. It is the story of those dared to bloody their hands and souls in an attempt to bring the Third Reich to its knees. The plan to achieve this ambitious goal includes Raine’s Basterds, Shoshanna and her lover Marcel’s Parisian cinema house and the collaborative efforts of German Spies, British counterintelligence and duplicitous Nazi officers. Basterds explores these elements through four separate chapters, culminating with a rousing, explosive finish that legitimately makes you laugh, cry, and cheer.

To paraphrase one of Basterds more outrageous characters, Donny Donowitz, the “Bear-Jew,” Tarantino knocked this one straight over the Green Monster and into the Atlantic. There is patience in the storytelling and heart in this film that Tarantino merely hinted at in his earlier films. Each character is developed through extended, theatrical scenes that are enlivened through beautiful cinematography that evokes the sensibility and style of WWII movie made during the late 60s or early 70s. Tarantino’s patience allows the audience to experience each character and their lives in the midst of this tragic era before moving them towards the film’s climax. It also gives the actors room to deliver some of the best performances of the year. Among the best are Laurent’s gripping performance as Shoshanna Dreyfus, the sole survivor of a vicious Nazi raid led by the charmingly, villainous Col. Landa. Shoshanna is unquestionably the soul of this film. Laurent’s anguished performance is balanced by a measured approach that is never over-the-top and perfectly evocative of the simmering rage, fear, and anxiety that fuel vengeance. Counterbalancing Laurent’s performance is Christoph Waltz’s turn as one of this generation’s best screen villains, Col. Hans Landa. Waltz plays Landa as a twisted Sherlock Holmes, a charming and perceptive man who is rightfully impressed with his own intelligence yet prone to fits of unimaginable viciousness. Waltz uses the pitch perfect approach to his portrayal of Landa, only going over to top when necessary but constantly bubbling with an infectious energy that draws in enemies and allies like flies to a spider’s web. It may be premature, but, based on Waltz’s performance, Landa is the undoubtedly the screen villain of the year.

Not to be forgotten is megastar Brad Pitt and his deliberately exaggerated turn as Lt. Aldo Raine. Pitt plays Raine with a Tennessee accent, a variation on his Benjamin Button N’awlins accent, and devilish smirk that shows he takes far too much pleasure in killing, scalping and scarring Nazis. The power of the three main performances does not diminish the impact of supporting performances by Diane Kruger, Eli Roth, Michael Fassbender, Til Schweiger, and Daniel Brühl who all turn in amazing, nuanced performances that add to the humor, heart and tension of the film.

The wonderful performances in Basterds highlight the mostly character-focused nature of the film, but, being a Tarantino film, scenes of visceral violence consistently punctuate each chapter. And, what glorious violence it is! The action scenes in this film tiptoe between grisly spectacle and grim reminders of the cost of war. Each scene of violence, prior to the prolonged ultraviolent climax, is fast, furious and brutal, topped with shocking images of scalping, bullet holes and scarring. That said, some of the scenes may prove difficult for the squeamish. But, thanks to Tarantino’s assured direction and slavish adherence to story and character over spectacle, each scene serves the story and the characters rather than being violent for the sake of the R-rating.

Indeed some viewers may find the violence to be unbearable, but they may also find the lengthy scenes of dialogue equally unbearable. Tarantino is famous for the wit, sharpness, and the amount of dialogue in his films and Basterds proves no exception to that rule. Many scenes in Basterds, such as the bar rendezvous and Shoshanna’s lunch with Joseph Goebbels, could have stood to lose about five minutes, though at possible detriment to the story. It’s hard to say whether many other directors would have taken the risk and let those scenes run long. But, based on the excellence of the final cut, it seems to have been a calculated risk with mostly positive results. Just be prepared to digest a lot of talk before the action starts.

In addition to the Tarantino dialogue, there are a few other stylistic flourishes that may pull audiences out of the story including a 70s-style mini-movie dedicated to one character’s back story (complete with the old-school big font title and porno music), a glut of filmmaking references, and a strangely anachronistic narration by one of Tarantino’s premier players. Again, each is a minor indulgence that reflects Tarantino’s style and personality, but may prove confounding to the two or three moviegoers unfamiliar with Tarantino’s style.

Minor nitpicking aside, Inglorious Basterds is awesome (and Michael Bay wasn’t even involved). This is moviemaking, nay storytelling, at it should always be: emotionally engaging, riotously funny, truly touching, terribly thrilling, and, most importantly, unrepentantly entertaining.

The Bay-Perry Theory

2009-06-30T11:05:00.001-07:00

Michael Bay. Tyler Perry. Hearing those names will make you cringe or gush. These two “prolific” directors consistently elicit nothing less than extreme responses from audiences and critics. Depending on your taste, education, location, and a glut of other circumstances, you will believe that Mr. Bay and Mr. Perry are either brilliant auteurs with their fingers on the pulse of contemporary audiences or manipulative, unimaginative hacks.

The record-breaking success of Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen (ROTF) this past weekend has brought the well-known-but-rarely-discussed enmity between the average moviegoer, the discerning moviegoer, and the critics and their opinions of Bay and Perry’s movies into the spotlight. While no one expected ROTF to be a masterpiece of storytelling, the amount of vitriol it has received from critics and more discerning moviegoers is staggering. This film is currently at 20% on Rotten Tomatoes with many professional and amateur critics slamming it for its scant plotting, poor characterization, weak dialogue, gratuitous sexuality, racism, and general stupidity. At the end of the weekend, the preaching of the film world’s “intelligentsia” had little effect on average/casual moviegoers who made ROTF one of the fastest and highest grossing films in history, and had mostly positive comments for Bay’s metal grinding epic.

In many ways the wildly different responses from casual moviegoers and critics are reminiscent of the divergent responses to controversial “filmmaker” Tyler Perry. Critics and savvy moviegoers repeatedly bemoan the nonsensical plotting, stereotypical characterizations, and overwrought theatrical melodrama of Perry’s films, yet his target audiences never fail to push his films to the #1 box office spot. This phenomenon once baffled critics and savvy moviegoers but now only seems to enrage them. It leads them to label audiences as easily manipulated, unrefined, and stupid. They decry these audiences for turning away from intelligent fare for formulaic fluff. But, as a any math major will tell you, formulas are effective because of the potential for mass application.

Michael Bay and Tyler Perry have crafted films built on strict adherence to a simplistic formula, which manipulates audiences into having specific emotional responses that allow for catharsis and wish fulfillment. Simply put, they use a simple formula to make films that make audiences feel good. Their films are candy for the soul of the malnourished. Yes, they appeal to lowest common denominator. But, the thing about the lowest common denominator is that it’s common. Most moviegoers would prefer a movie experience with safe yet cathartic fantasy and wish fulfillment than one with profound, challenging, thought-provoking and, likely, painful content. This is nothing new. The troubling revelation is that today’s casual audiences do not actively engage in balanced viewing habits. Casual audiences are content to be entertained and are not bothered in the slightest to pursue material that might expand their mind or break their hearts. This is the phenomenon that disturbs critics and discerning moviegoers most.

Generally, it’s fine to enjoy guilty pleasures and popcorn entertainment. But, without balance, those forms of entertainment become the so popular and profitable that they threaten to dominate the cultural landscape. Consequently, intelligent, challenging work begins to fade away because it is no longer marketable. The growing possibility of a dumbed-down culture causes many critics and certain audiences to go at filmmakers like Bay and Perry full bore because they don’t want good culture to disappear. And, really, who can blame them?

While critics and moviegoers of particular taste are not the vanguards of culture they are still voices that represent culture and it is their right—and at times their responsibility—to defend culture that will show the future that we weren’t idiots. When watching ROTF, or any of Bay or Perry’s work in general, I think to myself, “this is ridiculous.” But, beyond that thought, I hope that other members of the audience know it’s ridiculous too. In all honesty, that’s a real roll of the dice. Much of the audience for these films is too young and unbalanced in their cultural exposure to accurately interpret these movies as fluff. Conduct an exit poll on audiences from any of Bay’s or Perry’s films and see if that audience isn’t dominated by people who believe movies like ROTF or Madea Goes to Jail aren’t masterworks of cinematic storytelling. This is particularly demoralizing to African-American audiences, who make up such a small segment of the population--with so few films to represent their experience, positive, negative, or indifferent--and whose tastes are doomed to be defined solely by the Tyler Perry standard. Even worse, an entire generation of moviegoers may grow up disregarding intelligent entertainment in favor of youth-skewed fluff that never dares to evolve beyond wish fulfillment and consider the human dimension of facing extraordinary circumstances and the subsequent triumphs and consequences.

As our culture becomes more youth-oriented, high tech, and generally hyperactive, we can only hope that audiences will grow out of the phase where they only enjoy the work of Bays and Perrys. We hope they realize there’s more to life than explosions, pissing robots, hot babes, pot-smoking-fist-fighting-drag-queen grandmas, chubby bigots, and happy endings, and will in turn demand more from their entertainment. But with ROTF breaking box-office records daily and Tyler Perry’s movies consistently reaching top spots on the box office, all we can do is hold on to a hope that is vague and fleeting at best.

Movie Review - Up

2009-06-30T06:43:00.001-07:00

Describing Disney/Pixar’s Up as uplifting would not only be cliché but a terrible understatement. Up is one of the most moving films I have ever seen. In Up, we meet Carl Fredricksen, a seemingly cantankerous old coot with the proverbial heart-of-gold, who embarks on wondrous journey using his house as a makeshift airship. Carl is joined on his journey by chubby young eager beaver wilderness boy scout, Russell. Together, Carl and Russell fly by balloon hoisted house to the beautiful and mysterious Paradise Falls in South America, where misadventure awaits.

Up, directed by Pete Docter, is an amazing piece of storytelling with true heart that toes the line of being a manipulative tearjerker then steps away from that line with its dignity in tact. One of Up’s greatest strengths is its development of the character’s motivations. Up develops character motivation simply and powerfully through quiet poignant moments that eschew overbearing dialogue or melodramatics. If you are not moved by the two dialogue-less scenes—used a bit more effectively than in Wall*E—between Carl and his wife then you might not have a soul. The motivations of each character are so clear and logical that every setup and payoff is completely worth it. For instance, late in the film, when Carl makes a choice between his traveling companions and his goal, the audience understands exactly why he made this decision because of the exquisite storytelling that preceded it.

The effectiveness of Up’s storytelling, penned by co-director Bob Petersen, is echoed in its seamless movement from a humorous rousing adventure to a reflective poignant study of loss and back again. You know those films the advertisers say will make you laugh, cry, and jump, this is one that truly earned that distinction. The humor is reverent, intelligent, and aware. Some of the funniest bits in the film come from the interactions between the absurd, i.e. dogs talking with human language translator collars, and the human, i.e. Carl’s grouchiness or Russell’s buoyancy. The action, as seen in amazing set pieces with airships, flying houses, talking dogs, is imaginative and fast-paced. The quiet moments hit notes that seem manipulative in trying to elicit emotion from the audience, but are so simply executed and anti-schmaltz that you can’t help but be moved. I’ll be honest, I will have a hard time watching this one again and keeping the cry bump in my throat.

Not to be neglected are the amazing vocal performances that only help to elevate the material, particularly Ed Asner’s star turn as Carl. Asner adds just the right amount of sadness, grit, and warmth to Carl to create a character with more depth than some of even Pixar’s most memorable heroes. Speaking of Pixar’s other endeavors, this film continues Pixar’s trend of creating fantastic, colorful worlds that are absolute marvels of computer generated animation. The lush South American jungle that surrounds Paradise Falls is filled with textures and colors that are so subtly palpable that you could truly be fooled into believing its real, if only for a second. Of note also, are the unique character designs, particularly the geometrically rigid Carl who is all squares and 90-degree angles contrasting against the egg-shaped Russell(by the way, kudos to Disney for casting an Asian pre-teen and a senior citizens as it heroes. It’s always great to see progress, especially in films that might reach impressionable minds.).

Up is a gorgeous, moving film that continues Pixar’s tradition of spirited films that powerfully blend humanity and wonder. The kids will love the adventure and the humor, but the adults will be truly, deeply moved by the humanity of the characters and power of their motivations.

Movie Review - Watchmen

2009-06-30T06:39:00.001-07:00

Zack Snyder’s adaptation of Alan Moore’s seminal graphic novel Watchmen is a peculiar piece of art. It is visually stunning, filled with iconic images of the unbelievable framed as perfectly as any comic splash page, but as a narrative it is discordant, sluggish, and pretentious. Of course, those very qualities could describe the novel itself. I read Watchmen for the first time about three years ago after twenty-two years of wondering what was behind that blood splattered smiley face. I was nowhere near as impressed as the most ardent comic fans. I understood its brilliance, (it was one of a handful of titles in the ‘80s that brought the tried and true conventions of the superhero genre crashing down.) but that didn’t make me enjoy it any more. I never liked or even remotely cared for the characters. And, while I understood the insane genius of the antagonist’s plot, I always thought there had to be a simpler plan. With that in mind, I did not buy into the hype for Watchmen. I knew exactly what this movie would be: a love letter to the fans and a confusing mess to anybody who wasn’t invested in the original property. After sitting through this nearly three hour behemoth, I found out just how right I was.

Set in an alternate 1985 where Nixon is campaigning for his fifth term and the Cold War is about to go nuclear, Watchmen tells the story of the end of “superheroics.” It follows a group of a “superheroes”–debatable considering only one actually has powers–as they unravel the mystery of a hero killer and discover a devilish plot that threatens the world with total annihilation. Our “heroes” in this piece include the increasingly apathetic and god-like Dr. Manhattan (Billy Crudup), aging, impotent Dan Dreiberg, known ominously as Batman analogue Nite Owl II (Patrick Wilson), frustrated yet sultry scuba-suit-wearing superheroine Sally Jupiter, The Silk Spectre II (Malin Akerman), vicious absolutist vigilante Rorschach (Jackie Earle Haley), psychopathic superspy The Comedian (Jeffrey Dean Morgan), and, the comic book version of Alexander the Great, Adrian Veidt, or Ozymandias to his legions (Matthew Goode). Through a jarring narrative structure, we learn about the disturbing faults behind these “heroes,” ranging from fetishism to sadomasochism to nihilism to total apathy for humanity, Snyder mimics the novel’s structure by interweaving flashbacks that traces the history of the group from their predecessors to the outlawing of masked heroes to the present (1985) where nuclear war between the US and USSR is imminent.

With Watchmen, Snyder uses a deft combination of CGI and staging to faithfully recreate the visual aesthetic of Watchmen illustrator Dave Gibbons original artwork. He also meticulously mimics and compresses Moore’s complex narrative structure. What Snyder failed to do was use these elements to craft a story or characters that movie audiences would actually cared about. Yes, technical proficiency and adaptation faithfulness count for something, but if a director fails to engage their audience then for all intents and purposes they have failed. In all fairness, the blame is not solely Snyder’s to bear. The obtuse source material, a collection of shoddy performances, the limits of the film runtime, and the modern audience’s understanding of superhero films all had a hand in crippling the Watchmen.

The difficulty in adapting Watchmen lies in the relative investment of its audience. Moore’s graphic novel is revered because it was targeted at readers who were invested in the concepts and philosophies of superhero comics. Snyder’s Watchmen struggles to connect with audiences that enjoy superhero movies, but, once they leave the theater, still believe that comics are kids stuff. Furthermore, Watchmen pushes superhero conventions so far into adult thematic territory that it becomes uncomfortable and laughable to modern audiences. Take for instance, the scene where Nite Owl and Silk Spectre make love in a flying Owl-mobile after they’ve saved citizens from a burning building, with Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” as the score. Looking over the audience, I noticed some patrons were squirming while others were ready to explode in laughter. It was just as ridiculous as it sounds. And that’s the problem. The concepts that were so powerful in Moore’s novel appear simply insane on film. With superheroes barely taken seriously by mainstream audiences, this film does not help the case by putting people in silly costumes in preposterous situations.

Adding to the ridiculousness of the story were wooden performances,–the most notable being Akerman’s stiff, ineffectual Sally Jupiter–bad makeup,–see Carla Gugino as the aging elder Jupiter and senior citizen Nixon–and unsympathetic characters–fetishist Nite Owl who gets off from doing deeds of daring-do. If not for the electric performances of Jackie Earle Haley and Jeffrey Dean Morgan this film would sink leagues beyond its weight. Haley’s Rorschach is amazing. This tiny firecracker is a moral absolutist who brutally punishes his foes with homemade weaponry and Dirty Harry style quips. Anytime Rorschach is on screen the film comes alive, thanks to his uncompromising nature and penchant for kick-ass brutality. To a lesser degree, Morgan’s Comedian also shoots life into the film with his brash, despicable superhero turned government spook. The Comedian’s disturbing actions cover up a broken man who lives with the weight of terrible truths and sins. In a few scenes, Morgan displays this disturbing duality through masterful control of emotion and delivery.

Haley and Morgan’s performances alone could not save Watchmen from its debilitating disconnect and distance from audiences who barely read comics. Today’s movie-goers absorb superhero films mostly as popcorn entertainment. With the exception of a few masterfully done pieces, (Dark Knight, X-Men 2, American Splendor, Ghost World, etc.,), most movies in the superhero genre are light fare with simple plots for easy consumption by masses that respond more to stunning visuals than complex storytelling. Therein lays the problem with Watchmen. It is an inherently dense and complex story. There is no way even a modicum of the depth and complexity of that 400-page tome could be completely and accurately translated into the brevity of film without alienating mainstream audiences or disappointing core fans. Terry Gilliam, an early contender for the director’s chair when Watchmen was first optioned, was on target when he said Watchmen would be best served as a five-hour miniseries. If Watchmen was filmed as a mini-series it would give viewers time to digest and reflect on the material over time rather than engaging in the futility of parsing the dense narrative in a three hour span. Furthermore, the extended runtime would allow for significant establishment of the Watchmen’s universe with more scenes to better develop the characters and a world that is in dire peril. An extended runtime would also improve viewer investment in characters that are difficult to sympathize with and world that may be too implausible even for the most jaded viewers. In this case, Watchmen was undeserved by a conglomeration of external and internal forces. A work this significant did not need to be adapted into a potential blockbuster. It made the most appropriate impact in the late 80s when it effectively reshapes the superhero genre by attacking its conventions. In the case of the film, its impact is less significant but the result may be the same. Just as Moore’s Watchmen effectively killed the popularity of traditional superhero storytelling, Snyder’s Watchmen may have fired the kill shot on the popularity of the superhero genre. Based on recent statements from Snyder, maybe that’s exactly what he wanted Watchmen to do.

Movie Review - Push

2009-06-30T06:38:00.001-07:00

That was kind of fun. I wish more superhero movies were like Push. Push may not have the pedigree or prestige of Dark Knight, Iron Man, or Spiderman 2, but it was a cool, low-key alternative to those weighty, loud, effects-laden tentpoles. Sure, the material is derivative (made obvious the abundance of comic book style projects today), but the gritty, uncompromising, anti-heroic spin makes Push unique in its own way.

Dir. Paul McGuigan uses Hong Kong as an electric backdrop to this story about people born with psychic abilities and the mysterious government agency, The Division, that chases them. Chris Evans, of Human Torch fame, plays Nick Gant a ‘mover’ who moves things with his mind. Nick escaped from Division’s clutches, specifically master ‘pusher’ (telepaths who manipulate thoughts) Henry Carver (Djimon Honsou), ten years ago. Now trying to lay low in Hong Kong, Nick is pulled into a convoluted web of action by teenaged ‘watcher’ (clairvoyants who see the future) Cassie, played by a quickly maturing Dakota Fanning. The twisty plot involves Nick’s ex-girlfriend Kira (Camilla Belle), another master ‘pusher’ who escaped from division with a syringe that could boost their powers and create the typical army of super soldiers. As Nick Cassie and Kira try to evade Division and a strange gang of Asian mindbenders, they encounter an eclectic cast of psychics who may or may not be on their side.
Push gets credit for being intense and, for the most part, focused. The intensity only fades near the climax when the plot loses its way thanks to an unnecessarily convoluted and meandering escape plot. Aside from that misstep, Push succeeds on the strength of McGuigan’s vision and the understated performances by the strong cast. McGuigan uses the busy, cluttered, neon streets of Hong Kong to give Push a tough, urban feel that is more in line with Nolan’s Dark Knight than Raimi’s Spider-Man. I appreciate films like Push that, despite their subject matter, use their settings to establish a believable world. Adding to relative believability is McGuigan’s approach to power displays. The powers in Push are subtle and nowhere near as flashy as something you’d see in X-Men. CGI was thankfully kept to a minimum and it works. The subtle, deceptive or defensive ways the characters use their powers meshes perfectly with the setting and McGuigan’s visuals.

Evans and Fanning carry this movie, despite being saddled with seemingly one-note (one dimensional) characters. Honsou and Belle also turn in satisfactory performances, but their characters are too clichéd to allow for any unique displays of character. The supporting cast, including Maggie Siff, Ming-Na, and Cliff Curtis, provides a blend of eclectic allies and enemies whose cool powers mostly overwhelm their character development. Evans and Fanning both turn in understated performances with more personality than any of the characters in Heroes. Evan’s Nick is a likeable toned down version of Human Torch whose quick wit and aloofness endears more than it than grates. Fanning’s Cassie is the same streetwise teen we’ve seen before, but Fanning performs with the grace of a seasoned performer and makes the character more likeable than it deserves. The characters in Push may be forced into one-dimensionality by the overwhelming plot, which includes a heavy back-story, and about five characters too many for its two-hour runtime, but what little personality they do have shines through phenomenally. The fact that script allows these characters to talk like smartass punks they should be doesn’t hurt either. As opposed to the super-serious self-effacing characters of most superhero yarns, the characters in Push are outlaw opportunists who’d rather use their powers for personal gain than to save the world. And, really, if you had powers like these, which lend themselves more to scamming (i.e. change plain paper into money) than super powered slugfests, wouldn’t you?

Push may not be the most original story, but, thanks to McGuigan’s cool visual style and strong performances, it’s a fun twist on the X-Men/Heroes/4400 template that’s worth a look to any fan of superhero flicks.

TV Review: Heroes – Ep. 314 “A Clear and Present Danger”

2009-06-30T06:36:00.000-07:00

Heroes returned last night after a lengthy winter hiatus. As is tradition, viewers and critics approach the start of this new volume with hope and trepidation. Will it be better than the last? How long before they screw up again? Jaded by the disappointments of previous volumes and the nature of the material, my expectations are low. I don’t expect Heroes to be anything more than light fare that takes itself way too seriously. Not only is the show over-serious, but its fans and critics take it even more seriously than it deserves. That being said, I’m sure the blogosphere is flooded with Tuesday morning quarterbacks bemoaning the missteps from this volume, Fugitives, premiere. After two years on the sidelines, I’ll try to add some balance to discontent by briefly looking at the good and bad from last night’s episode.

Last night, we caught up with our Heroes, months after the Pinehearst explosion. The Heroes are trying to live “normal” lives (Peter’s back in healthcare as an EMT, Claire’s shopping colleges, Parkman is a bodyguard, Hiro and Ando continue to play amateur superheroes, etc.). All seems well until a “mysterious” black-ops unit starts rounding up people with abilities. As previewed in last volume’s finale, Nathan Petrelli is leading the charge to round up “supers” because they are a danger to society. Once the ever-precocious Claire stumbles on to her estranged father’s plot, which her grandmother, Angela, and adoptive father, Noah, are both in on, she alerts the other Heroes (Character interaction early in the season? Shocking, I know.). Despite Claire’s warning, the Heroes are captured and hauled off to a Spruce Goose bomber, which likely leads to some variation on the early 90’s version of Genosha from the X-Men comics. After a daring rescue by Claire and Peter, in which we learn that Peter can no longer retain all the powers he absorbs, the plane crashes and we’re left with a cliffhanger and a preview of the Heroes actually working together.

Now, let’s get the pain out of the way and look at the premiere’s negatives.

1. Dialogue – Still cringe-worthy, but not nearly as bad as it used to be. The characters, especially Peter, Claire, and Mohinder, still speak in that ultra-serious tone that implies that the world will end tomorrow.
2. Character Motivations – Nathan has, somewhat, understandably turned on his own after dealing with all the crap from volumes 1-3 1/2. While Nathan’s perspective is mildly logical, Angela Petrelli and Noah Bennet’s involvement is more confusing. What does Angela benefit from having supers locked up? And, is there no other job HRG can do besides catch supers? Jeez, man, get a degree or something.
3. Matt and Daphne – Seriously, these two are not compatible in the slightest. Even Daphne seems visibly uncomfortable with their coupling. With only Matt enjoying this it’s almost possible that he’s got Daphne in a mind grip. Either way, writers, stop forcing this paring down everyone’s throat.

Now, the good:

1. Streamlined plot – For once, the plot seems simple. The Heroes become fugitives after their normal lives are interrupted by Nathan’s Mutant Registration Stormtroopers, led by the Vampire Judge from True Blood. If the writers can keep it simple and logical—well, as logical as possible—then I’ll stay on board until season’s end.
2. Character Interaction — Finally, after two seasons of contriving ways to keep the characters apart, the writers decided maybe we should let our characters interact with each other rather than occupy their own personal solar systems. Novel, I know. Hopefully, this will continue and heroes will become Heroes rather than random assortment of powered people save the world from apocalypse variation 6,042.
3. Humor-Carrying over from the last point, character interaction allows the Heroes to act almost human. When Peter gets into Mohinder’s cab halfway through the premiere, they actually exchange a joke, almost like they were human. Keep this up and the viewers will see the characters as more than action figures or chess pieces.
4. Ando’s power — For such a seemingly useless power, it sure looks cool. When Ando’s hands crackle with energy and make that starter sound, I can’t help but think of King of Fighters, with Kyo Kusanagi clenching a fist filled with crackling flames.

With all that said, I wish Heores luck with this volume. It’s likely they’ll let us down, but if we set our expectations low enough then we can only be pleasantly—well, moderately—surprised.

Tankobons and Trade-waiting

2009-06-30T06:35:00.000-07:00

I am abandoning the monthly comic format.

Okay, maybe that’s too absolute. However, I am one of the faithful converted. I am a trade-waiter. My appreciation for monthly pamphlets is waning. After twenty years as faithful, though inconsistent, collector of monthly comics, I am beginning to collect more manga tankobons (graphic novel collections of weekly or monthly manga) and wait for trade collections of comic story arcs. Admittedly, I wanted the cliched “more bang for my buck,” but my decision is as much the result of personal choice as market phenomenon. Here’s my reasons for the switch:

1. Cost-The country’s in a recession and inevitably luxuries get cut first. I’ve always been a thrifty comic shopper, keeping my average monthly comic expense between $20-$25. It’s not bad, but the price of comics is climbing. Two weeks ago, I paid $3.99 for a 22 page comic, and I’m young enough to remember when 22 pages only cost you a buck-fifty. If all the comics I purchased on a monthly basis were $3.99, my monthly expense would creep closer to $50. Conversely, I can trade-wait or purchase manga for between $8-$15. For that amount of money I’ll get six months (six weeks in manga), on average, worth of story as opposed to five minutes of story from a $4 pamphlet. The major publishers could make monthly comics more attractive to us new media users by offering itunes-style downloads for about $.99 (Marvel has already started digital distribution, but most of the newest issues are only availble in print copies.)

2. Content- As an artist and writer who has written an unpublished graphic novel, I appreciate the work that goes into a monthly comic. If only was complete enough to hold my attention for my than five minutes. In the age of writing for trade (structuring comic story arcs for collection in a trade paperback), a monthly comic is only equal to about, on average, 1/6th of a story. Remember when you used to get a complete story every month, I do. I didn’t have a problem trade-wait style story arcs, also known as decompression, until Marvel’s House of M miniseries (awesome art, meh story.) The pacing was plodding and the delays were even worse. By the end of the series, there were roughly two month shipping gaps between issues. The shipping gaps highlighted the pacing problems. One thing I appreciate about manga tankobons is the amount of content in one volume. Most tankobons are about 200 pages, and easily collect a good chunk of the major story. Depending on the series, reading one tankobon is more of an accomplishment than reading a collected story arc from a monthly.

Movie Review - The Wrestler

2009-06-30T06:34:00.000-07:00

Vince McMahon would have you believe that the greatest drama in the squared circle happens at Wrestlemania. But, Darren Aronofsky’s The Wrestler proves the most interesting drama in professional wrestling occurs in the hearts of the men behind the tights.

Based on a script by Robert D. Siegel, The Wrestler, starring Mickey Rourke, Marisa Tomei, and Evan Rachel Wood, follows aging pro wrestler Randy “The Ram” Robinson (Rourke) as he faces isolation and strained personal relationships in the waning days of his career. Technically, this is one of the most finely crafted films of the past year. Aronofsky creates a palpable sense of loneliness through deliberate pacing and minimalist staging. The New Jersey in The Wrestler is realistically dirty, but empty. At times, it seems as though Randy is the only one who exists in the world. In creating this isolation, Aronofsky masterfully interprets the theme of the piece through the visuals. Perhaps the most stunning images are those where Aronofsky films Randy from an over-the-shoulder perspective or alone in various settings. Adding to the power of the visuals is Aronofsky’s use of deliberate pacing. With a tight 95-minute runtime, The Wrestler never seems to drag despite the fact that in many scenes there is very little action. Aronofsky accomplish this by never letting quiet scenes linger beyond the five-minute mark.

Aronofsky’s wonderful visual direction and pacing enhance Siegel’s already masterful script. With graceful precision, Siegel’s script tells the oft-told story of the aging athlete’s comeback, but he does so against the backdrop of the oft-maligned sport of professional wrestling. Siegel delves into the locker rooms and rings of independent circuit pro wrestling with a positively electric authenticity. Veteran fans of wrestling may not be surprised to learn that matches are 40% staged and 60% real, but they will be mesmerized by the attention to detail and the elegant translation of locker room brotherhood. As a former fan of pro wrestling, I was excited to see the camaraderie of the locker room and the mechanics of staging a match depicted so accurately. Conversely, it broke my heart to see the physical and psychological pain these warriors put themselves through for our amusement, only to be discarded when the next big thing bumps them to dark matches.

Beyond the mat—to borrow a phrase—the script provides an agonizingly intimate portrait of a broken man doing his damndest to repair his heart. When Randy encounters a life changing event near the film’s opening, it serves as the perfect physical manifestation of a man whose soul was broken by his own design. After this event, Randy embarks on intimate journey to forge new and old connections with the most important people in his increasingly lonely life, stripper, Cassidy (Tomei) and his estranged daughter, Stephanie (Wood). Through these connections, Randy tries desperately to counteract the pain he’s caused himself and those he cares about. The climax to Randy’s journey is easily one of the most compelling and heart-wrenching conclusions to a reconciliatory quest. The riveting power of this journey is delivered through the understated performances of Rourke, Tomei, and Wood as people who have somehow survived being chewed and spit out by the very things they gave their lives to.

Undoubtedly, Rourke shines in a role that he earned more through life experience than his body of work. Most critics call this the resurrection of Rourke’s career, but perhaps it is better to view this performance as its zenith. Rourke’s fall from the top of the Hollywood food chain gave him intimate insight into portraying a washed up star and it shows. Rourke lends a perfect balance of gravitas, bravado, and introspection in portraying the Randy’s fleeting highs and persistent lows. Rourke makes Randy so likeable that your heart can’t help but break when you watch him struggle. Not to be outdone, Tomei and Wood provide equally nuanced and anguished performance. Tomei’s Cassidy is a pure reflection of Randy as another washed up performer being slowly and dishonorably discharged from their professions. Both cling listlessly to each other as they come to terms with the disparity between their bodies and their work. Tomei performance has a much more acidic quality than Rourke’s because her character is obviously bitter about her situation. Cassidy’s bitterness could be off-putting when held up against the genial Randy, but Tomei handles the role with such grace and maturity that you can truly understand why Cassidy is so bitter. Rounding out the trio, Rachel Evan Wood, who puts enough emotion into her few scenes that you’re amazed she didn’t have more screen time. In playing Stephanie, Wood channels the pain of abandonment into a vulnerable firestorm. As broken as Stephanie is, it is obvious some part of her wants her father in her life. However, the overwhelming pain of being left behind has made Stephanie so fragile that one false move could destroy any attempts at rekindling the father-daughter relationship. Stephanie’s interactions with Randy are subtle and powerfully moving. Even at the most difficult points in their relationship, the performances never go for over the top melodrama, as the actors keep the pain firmly grounded. That grounded pathos is indicative of all the wonderful performances in The Wrestler. This is a story about broken people desperately trying to put themselves back together, and the actors succeed at that exquisitely.

Between the performances, script, and direction, there were few films finer than The Wrestler last year. Aronofsky, the cast, and crew told a disgustingly moving story that moves your heart to joy as easily as it wrenches it. I highly recommend this film for any purveyors of finely crafted character studies. And I especially recommend this film for pro wrestling fans that only pay attention to the drama in the ring.

Way Too Serious

2009-06-30T06:33:00.000-07:00

I just finished watching the new Dark Knight blu-ray. While still an undeniably awesome film, I had a chance to really absorb the film this time and I have emerged with a new perspective. Is this the greatest superhero film ever? For now, probably. Yet as great as Dark Knight is, in re-watching it, I noticed aspects that I did not personally enjoy. Chief among these, the pretentious, pseudo-philosophical dialogue. For example:

“You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become a villain.”

“He’s running because we have to chase him. …Because he can make the hard choices. He can be the hero we need, even if he’s not the hero we deserve…He’s the dark knight.”

“What would you have me do?

Endure, sir.”

First, the dialogue in TDK is not bad as much as it’s stilted. Besides blatantly diagramming the themes of film, which are already blatantly obvious thanks to the plot and visuals, it makes the characters seem less human and more like mouthpieces. Hearing the characters talk, I wondered, “Do people really talk like this?” If they were Shakespearean characters, perhaps. But, in a film that prides itself on reality, the dialogue makes the characters seem inhuman. Each becoming no more than a mouthpiece for their specific philosophy or role (Joker=Chaos, Batman=Order, Harvey Dent=Tragic Heroism, Alfred=Endurance and Support).Yes, there are tons of instant quotables in TDK, but would it have killed the Nolan brothers to be less acute with their language. I admire their goal of making a respectable, serious superhero flick, but did it have to be at the expense of naturalistic dialogue. Occasionally, there are flashes of wit and humor from Ledger’s Joker, Eckhart’s Dent and Caine’s Alfred and Freeman’s Fox, with Ledger getting the lion’s share (though TDK Joker is more serious than any other interpretation.). But a few lines of observational, gray humor does not make up for two+ hours of Aristotelian profundity. In making each character speak in profound terms every other line, they made them less human and, worse, less relatable. Essentially, the dialogue in TDK serves two purposes: a) move the plot forward (as all dialogue should) and b) reveal the themes of the narrative. While these purposes are noble and correct, for the most part, they deprive the dialogue of character and nuance in favor of purely utilitarian application.

Despite my opinion, I’m not espousing a Whedon-esque approach to dialogue. The subject matter is far too weighty to be supported by the fluffy teenspeak or sharp sarcasm of Buffy and Angel. However, a greater degree of humanity and character is necessary. Yes, the actor’s performances elevated the material and added much needed dimensions of gravitas and humanity, but I believe the writing should be able to stand independent of the performance. This is especially true in superhero films, which are at disadvantage in the eyes mainstream audiences who think comics are “kid stuff.” Using super-serious dialogue in superhero movies robs the characters of their humanity, authenticity, and uniqueness. Soon, with everyone trying to replicate TDK’s success, Spider-Man won’t tell jokes, Superman won’t smile, and Daredevil won’t spew sarcastic self-loathing. Come to think of it, too late for that. As I reflect on superhero films and their source material, the dialogue in both superhero films and comics has done two things to me: alienate me and enhance my vocabulary. But, in some ways, it failed to make me care about the characters beyond an issue, arc, or film. TDK now stands as the paragon of that disconnect. I love the film, love the action, and love the theme. But, after three viewings, I can do nothing but cringe at the dialogue. Maybe TDK could learn a lesson from its biggest rival this year, Iron Man? Ease up on the affected dialogue, the audience will appreciate it. And, lighten up, no need to be so serious.

Comics R.I.P.?

2009-06-30T06:31:00.000-07:00

Batman killed my love for superhero comics. More specifically, the conclusion of Grant Morrison’s epic-arc, Batman R.I.P., stabbed my love in the heart with a rusty nail. What hurt the most? The promise of the potentially interesting death of Batman and the reality of comic creators maintaining status quo through clichéd sleight-of-hand. It’s not Morrison and R.I.P.’s fault alone, I didn’t even bother with this year’s Secret Invasion of The Final Infinite Identity Crisis at the House of M’s Civil War. Based on recaps and reviews, I’m sure both of the big two’s “summer” events would’ve only further drained my wallet and enthusiasm. This year’s event comics and the flood of superheroes in pop culture have crushed my interest in collecting mainstream superhero comics.

Before R.I.P., I had a ritual. I would visit Midtown Comics website every Saturday morning to see what comics would be coming out the following Wednesday. For the past five years, this was my ritual. I would scroll through the byzantine list of mainstream offerings and independent upstarts, searching for any sign of work by my favorite artists. I never followed comic stories and writers as much as I did artists. Consequently, my collecting was sporadic. An issue here, an issue there. A few mini-series and a few runs of the random ongoing series. Occasionally—mostly in the last three or four years—I was swept into the hype of superstar summer event crossovers from the big two. I followed two of those events--House of M and Civil War--all the way through—again, more for the art than story. I knew the events were just Marvel and DC’s attempt to line their pockets and capitalize on the pop-culture superhero frenzy, but they put so much talent behind these stories that I couldn’t resist. At first.

Soon, I stopped recognizing the talent. My favorite artists—Jim Cheung, Olivier Coipel, Chris Bachalo, Pascal Ferry, Joe Maduriera, etc.,--were scattered. I would see their work on the occasional cover or mini-series, but in most cases they faded away. The art left me with the stories, and I was not pleased. Superhero stories are wonderful in short bursts. Two hour bursts, to be more specific. I enjoy superhero movies—though, the recent glut is bound to lead me to write a similar article about them—but superhero comics can be agonizing to read. Imagine paying for a soap opera or a weekly network TV show then only getting a fraction of the ongoing story once a month. In the age, of writing for trade, all we get are fractions of stories each month and the costs are rising. The going rate for the average Marvel comic: $3.99. I’m old enough to remember when comics were less than a dollar, but young enough to recall the advent of free downloads. Imagine paying for any other entertainment medium and only getting a fraction of the product.

Even more aggravating than paying full price for a fraction of the product, mainstream superhero comics continue to be nothing more than paragons of repetitive, gimmicky storytelling and diminishing originality. That statement is specifically directed at mainstream superhero comics because there are creators out there doing amazing, original, innovative work for major and indie publishers. The accomplishments of trailblazing creators like Robert Kirkman, Brian Vaughan, Bill Willingham, and Jason Pearson should never be diminished by the failings of the industry’s flagships. Despite the accomplishments of these creators and others like them, the flagships of industry are still peddling the same old megalomaniac world domination stories with characters who live and die at the will of the publisher and never evolve beyond exactly who the were in issue one. The stagnation and repetition of storytelling is disheartening in an age where TV, films, and video games compete for our attention with finite, impactful, and innovative stories. Why turn to comics for part of the story when you can get all of it? I used to believe it was the art, but what should I believe when the artists come and go like movie stars.

Ten years ago, I started believing in manga. I was biased. Most of my favorite artists were influenced by manga and animation. I also loved the art of Japanese video games and cartoons/anime like Robotech and Voltron. When I began collecting tankobons in the late nineties, I realized how much the American comic industry had cheated me. In Japan, manga readers get weekly comics with gorgeous, clean art—albeit in black and white—and stories that build to a conclusion. On top of that, weekly comics are collected in monthly digest-size paperbacks that cost between $5.00-$9.00. Two-hundred pages, monthly, for as low as $5.00. Compare that to a 22-page pamphlet going for almost the same price. Between manga, TV, movies, video games, self-enrichment, and social interaction, superhero comics have lost their place in my heart.

Despite this rant, I still love the medium. I’m writing my own comic, scripted in the format of an HBO drama, which I plan to illustrate and market as a weekly web comic, to be collected in a manner similar to manage tankobons. I will not give up collecting the new "Thor" series until Straczynski and Coipel finish their magnificent run. The work of creators like Straczynski and Coipel proves that comics are a wonderful storytelling medium. I just wish the stories everyone loves would catch up to the rest of the world. Even with my current disenchantment, I know I will continue to check the comic forums and fan sites and I will continue to check Midtown Comics every Saturday. But, I also know that it’s less likely that’ll be going to the comic shop the following Wednesday.

Leave those Heroes alone

2009-06-30T06:29:00.001-07:00

Recently, media outlets from Entertainment Weekly to the New York Times have jumped on the Heroes bashing bandwagon, each offering an opinion on how to save the failing show. While it’s obvious that Heroes was never really as great as everyone thought (save those perceptive individuals who never thought it was good to begin with), are their suggestions or any of our suggestions any better. Heroes is escapist fantasy, a weekly comic book on a $4 million dollar budget. It never has been anything more, and likely never will be. Everything heroes is doing wrong is exactly what the average superhero comic does every month (I say average because there are a lot of talented independent and mainstream creators who actually push the boundaries of the medium.). Any fanboy/girl worth their salt knows that meticulously and viciously criticizing a comic is standard practice on any comic forum. Heroes is no exception to this phenomenon, the only difference is the scope. Heroes, with all its pomp and hype, was built movie-level publicity, which immediately draws the ire of mainstream media. In this age of the post-modern superhero pop culture movement, anything about comics and superheroes draws a horde of attention. And, who better to comment on mainstream superheroics than the comic geeks who love them? But, are the geeks right? Maybe, but probably not.

This isn’t revolutionary, but geeks don’t know it all. First, most geeks are fans who know too much, but miss the obvious. Just because you’re a X-Men fanboy/girl who remembers every arc from Claremont’s historic run in the early 80’s doesn’t mean the average TV viewer in 2008 has any recollection of Days of Future Past or the Phoenix Saga—though, that’s more likely today than it was in the past. To most viewers, the storylines in Heroes seem relatively—not brand spanking, but fairly—new. Also, many casual TV viewers enjoy soap operas. Check the ratings. Aside from procedurals, the most popular shows on TV are all soap operas—albeit in vastly varying degrees of quality. So, complaining about the soapiness of Heroes, it’s revolving door death policy, and ludicrous family tress is to ignore fundamental aspects of serial storytelling. For that matter, most comics are quite soapy with unlikely accelerated romances, pretentious dialogue, tawdry melodrama, revolving door death policy, ludicrous…I don’t need to go on. If Heroes is failing because of any of these reasons, then its only real fault is slavishly adhering to the conventions of serial storytelling.

As far as storytelling goes, no geek—professional writer or otherwise—can write someone else’s story. Perhaps, the creators of Heroes do have a plan—though its likelihood is often challenged by the show’s quality. As the audience we don’t know that plan and it’s not for us to tell the creators where the show should go for one simple reason: if we we’re writing our own original (used loosely in Heroes case) creation we wouldn’t want someone else to tell us how to write it. Criticism and observation is one thing. It’s our right as consumers to comment on what we like and dislike about a piece of consumptive entertainment. But, we shouldn’t try to guide the hand of the creator’s too make something that only appeals to one specific fan or fan base. If you don’t like it, don’t watch. I know there aren’t many options on network for sci-fi/fantasy fans, but really if it’s that plodding, that derivative, that bad then just bust a hustle to your local comic shop or Blockbuster and pick up the latest X-Men comic or movie and you’re set. Trust me, you’ll save yourself a lot of headaches every Monday night. If the creators of Heroes want to go down in flames for sticking to their vision, however flawed it may seem to us, let them. Maybe, it’s their destiny.

Superhero Summer Detox

2008-08-07T08:15:00.001-07:00

With the release of The Dark Knight three weeks ago, The Summer of Superheroes has come to a record-breaking close(sorry Dragon Emperor Mummy, but you don't count. Superheroes only.) Eight months into the year and comic-based films have surpassed the $1 Billion in revenue. We know the studios are happy, as are most fans and critics. But, as I reflect on this glorious achievement in comicdom, I'm not as satisfied as I thought I'd be. From May 5 to July 18, I dropped more than $150 bucks on the superhero moviegoing experience. Hindsight gives a little more clarity and I'm sure that at least half those flicks weren't worth the money and I could've waited to redbox them. Let's review:

1. May 5-Iron Man
Robert Downey Jr. was great as Tony Stark. Not awesome, not transcendent. Just great. To me, Tony Stark is pretty much an irredeemable jerk after what happened with Civil War (for the uninitiated: he betrayed his friends and inadvertently caused the death of Captain America.) So, the character is pretty much lost on me. But I can't deny that RDJ made Stark extremely likeable and for that I applaud him. Outside of Downey's performance, nothing in the film was especially spectacular. I know that: DJay from Hustle and Flow was his friend who didn't do anything besides worry, Gwenyth Paltrow was his secretary and she may or may not have loved Stark, Stark's business partner had a distracting beard, and Iron Man wiped out a camp of outmatched Afghan terrorists. Half the movie was spent testing or building the armor. While I appreciate the task of the origin story, I wish there was something clever about the process. In Batman Begins, Bruce Wayne had to construct the Bat suit through very practical means, which led to a lot of "oh, that's clever" moments. In Iron Man, it was mostly "Stark is super smart. He can build anything." Then there's the villian: Iron Monger. Seriously? I would've respected the villian more if he actually plagued Stark throughout the film rather making a 12th hour decision get dressed up as a Power Ranger robot. Aside, from Downey Jr's performance and the novelty of seing a B-lister faithfully adapted on-screen, the plot was too bare and the characters were too flat to sustain a memorable experience.

2. May 9th-Speed Racer
Here's a flick that won me over for its sheer audacity and heart. Yes, it was too much for mainstream consumption. Unabashedly wacky, colorful, and dizzying, but likely ahead of its time. Speed Racer reminded me of Japanese sci-fi/superhero flicks like Casshern and Devilman, which dutifully, though most times unsuccessfully, try to bring anime to life. An admirable goal, but more often than not a fool's errand. Beyond the anime stylings, Speed Racer had extremely likeable characters who were occasionally hokey, but always earnest. I appreciated the bond of the Racer family and the struggle Speed faced when choosing between them and his dreams. Alas, the downfall of Speed Racer was poor marketing and lack of recognition. Not many kids today know about Speed Racer and that lack of familiarity hurt the film's box office as much as poor word of mouth, which probably came from an audience too jaded to believe in honest heroes, loving families, and happy endings. I caught Speed Racer as a matinee and was completely alone in th theater. I guess that means I'm either way ahead of the curve or way behind. Time will tell.

3. June 13-The Incredible Hulk
I really didn't want to see this in the theaters. If not for the urging of friends, I would've happily redboxed this mediocrity. First of all, I was a fan of Ang Lee's hulk, so I was already biased. But, I kept and open mind and ended up disappointed. TIH isn't terrible it was just like Iron Man, mediocre. I appreciate Marvel Entertainment for bringing us this really kewl comic universe on celluloid, but after seeing Dark Knight their efforts seem too popcorn for my taste. TIH was more basic than Iron Man because it was trying to satisfy the audience's desire for non-stop action. If ever there was a character in need of development it's The Hulk, because the Hulk lacks personality when he's Hulked out. Hulk doesn't joke. Hulk doesn't think. Hulk just smashes. And that's fun for about a half hour. I admit Ang Lee's version could be obtuse with its psychological themes and talky dialogue, but at least it attempted to develop the monster beyond weapon of post traumatic destruction and avatar of adolescent rage. Even worse, TIH had the same problems as Iron Man: flat supporting characters, a bare plot, and a ineffective villian (though more assertive and menacing than Go-Go Iron Monger). Edward Norton delivered an earnest performance with material that was clearly dumbed down, while William Hurt yelled, Liv Tyler barely blinked and Tim Roth's villain smirked with the requisite evil delight. I guess TIH gets bonus points for the Tony Stark cameo, but shouldn't the real stars and story of a movie be the highlight, not some gimmicky cameo.

4.June 18 Wanted
Never have I said "Oh Come On!" so much in a movie. I understand that part of the summer movie going experience is to completely abandon disbelief, but Wanted made me abandon reason and logic. Among the mind benders in this flick: a man jumping across a canyon of skyscrapers, bending bullets, a carbonite healing bath, and a prophetic loom. Seriously? I can accept the conceits of fantasy, but when the filmmakers try to pass this off-the-wall shenanigans as occuring in the real world then I have to object. Performance wise everyone except star James McAvoy hit their standard notes: Angelina was a sexy femme fatale bad ass, Morgan Freeman was the wise, mystical brother, Common was so cool that frost chipped off his nose. The plot twist was no twist, if you've ever seen a thriller like Wanted and the complete disregard for human life (with the exception of the stars) in a film with the line "kill one, save a thousand"
was astounding. I read Mark Millar's original graphic novel back in February before Wanted was supposed to be released (originally, March of 08'). While I was put off by the anti-fanboy tone, I wonder if I would've had an easier time digesting fecal monsters and zombie serial killers than a mystical loom that puts hits on random citizens.

5.July 4-Hancock
Despite the muddy mythology, I enjoyed Will Smith as Superman. One reason was that this is the closest we'll ever get to a black Superman film. Another reason is that this was a pretty unconventional and original (for films at least) take on the origin story. It had elements of early comic stories like Fantastic Four (hero with a public identity), Superman (the lonely god), Batman (no holds barred except killing-justice), Spider-Man (the public fears the hero as much as it needs the hero), and X-Men (isolation for those with strange abilities). This film also made a very timely and potent allusion to the notion of superheroes as the face of modern mythology. Clearly, an ambitious film with great conceptual depth. Unfortuantely, the execution stumbled near the end and snatched the rug from the film's critical success. All the writers had to do was clear up the mythology and backstory for Hancock and I bet this would've been almost unanimously praised. Alas, Hancock may only be remembered for Will Smith's consistently charismatic and heartfelt performance (he almost cries in every movie he's in these days, doesn't he?) and the wealth of squandered potential.

6. July 11-Hellboy II-The Golden Army
Know why I went to see Hellboy II? The Crow-looking Elf with the swords, Prince Nuada. That's it. I saw his scenes in the preview and I was sold. It's like someone smashed Sephirtoh from Final Fantasy into The Crow and then let him loose in the Mos Eisely cantina. Aside from the Prince, who was easily the most developed and exciting character, Hellboy was pretty much the same as the first. Interesting, but short of engaging. It's not for lack of effort, that's for sure. Director Guillermo Del Toro obviously put a lot of love into creating the world and creatures of Hellboy and it shows in the unique designs and authentic underground world. The problem is: the heroes were obviously wrong. As I've said in earlier posts, villains are great because, as agents of change, they actually try to do something. Most of Hellboy's time is spent sitting in his room and moping about his girlfriend. Prince Nuada, on the other hand, spent centuries practicing and focusing his determination on trying to save his people. While Hellboy may be cool to knock a few back with, who would you rather have defending you? The slacker or the dedicated knight-prince. If there is a third outing in store for the Son of The Devil, I hope he takes a more active role as a hero and does more wait at the barstool for problems to come to him.

July 18-The Dark Knight
This film changed the game. Before The Dark Knight, movies like Iron Man, Hulk, Wanted, and Hellboy would've been judged on a completely different standard. Now, they must be judged against a masterpiece that defied genre limitations and dared its audience to think. I was a little biased before seeing TDK because I love crime dramas (and make no mistake this is crime drama first, comic adaption second). The Dark Knight is a near perfect film because every aspect, performances, cinematography, plot, dialogue, theme, works together. Director Christopher Nolan delivered a focused effort that pandered to the highest denominator and dared the rest to catch up. Nolan clearly respects the material and the audience and doesn't care whether the tweens keep up or not. That type of boldness in filmmaking is sorely lacking these days and I appreciate Nolan's efforts. And I can't ignore the performances. Bale continues to amaze as a down-to-earth, non-assinine Batman who truly cares about saving his city more than himself (never more evident than the poignant ending). Oldman has changed how I view Commissioner Gordon. Who knew the Commish who used to run to the Batphone in the 60s could be such a badass? Eckhart's heart breaking portrayal of Harvey Dent is the heart of the movie and he deserves every ounce of credit he's gotten. Of course, Heath Ledger is The Joker. His amazing performance will likely remained unrivaled, setting a standard that movie, not just comic movie, villains should be smart, entertaining, and a step ahead of everyone (imagine that).

In conclusion, the Summer of Superheroes proved an interesting experiment in pop culture. It was great to see such enthusiastic responses from mainstream audiences for B-Listers, unknowns, and original properties. Despite my opinions on these films, all were expertly crafted, entertaining works of art. As a comic fan, what more can you ask? Hopefully, with the Dark Knight as standard bearer, we'll see more comic adaptations that dare to be more than just summer blockbusters, but aspire to be thought provoking examples of high art like some of today's best comics.

The Darkest Knight Shines Brightest

2008-07-21T13:29:00.000-07:00

If you’ve ever come down off a high then you know what it feels like to leave a theater after seeing Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight. Words escape you. Your senses are readjusting from overwhelming stimuli. You breathe again for the first time. You try to reconcile what’ve you seen. You struggle to readjust yourself to world that’s a little less spectacular. Simply, there is no film, superhero or otherwise, this year as spectacular as The Dark Knight.

Nolan, along with screenwriter brother Jonathan, has crafted a masterpiece of drama that explores heroism, morality, and terror with fury and elegance. The ensemble cast (Bale, Ledger, Eckhart, Oldman, Caine, Freeman, Gyllenhal) deliver earnest nuanced performances that snatch their characters from their 2-D roots and render them as fabulously three dimensional human beings. The efforts cast and crew combine to create a story that is at once disheartening and promising. In The Dark Knight, Batman along with District Attorney Harvey Dent and Lieutenant Gordon attempt to stamp out organized crime in Gotham when they are faced with an seemingly unstoppable menace in the form of The Joker. But The Dark Knight is more than Batman’s latest crusade against the villains of Gotham, it is a morality tale about the choices and compromises we are forced with in the face of overwhelming, and at times irrational, opposition. It is one of the most intellectual 9/11 films to arise from that tragedy, exploring and questioning the lengths protectors go to ensure the security of their communities against terrorist forces. It is the greatest superhero/comic movie ever committed to film and, at this moment, there is no opponent worthy enough to contest that title.

The Dark Knight achieves greatness on every level of filmmaking and storytelling. Visually, the film is amazing. The grounded realism of Gotham (or Chicagotham) makes the audience believe in this world. The city feels lived in. Like it’s heroes, Gotham is worn, weather-beaten and broken. Nolan’s choice to use a location shooting was successful in Batman Begins, but here it is perfected. Gone are the Narrows and the CGI WayneTrain, only the dirt and brick of a very real Gotham remain. To maximize the dark glory of Gotham, Nolan filmed several scenes in the IMAX format. This format allowed Nolan to expand the scope of certain scenes and demonstrate just how real, massive, and fragile Gotham is. Gotham is indeed fragile. In many of the superb action scenes, the city is purely battleground where everybody is a casualty. Nolan expertly orchestrates the destruction of Gotham, and Hong Kong in a fabulous infiltration scene that is more Bond and Borne than Batman, with amazing concertos of chaos. The opening bank robbery, the SWAT Wagon Chase, and the climactic battle over Gotham harbor are all paragons of suspense, tension, and violence. The action is The Dark Knight is never derivative and always flows organically from the conflicts between the main characters.

Performance-wise, the cast is truly unparalleled. The performances in The Dark Knight will be lauded for decades. Heath Ledger’s Joker is magnificent. There’s has never been an interpretation of The Joker as menacing, maniacal, and morbidly merry as Ledger’s. To steal a line from Mr. J, we deserved a better class of villain and Ledger delivered. Ledger’s Joker is an unpredictable force of chaos. The way he slinks, constantly chews, and gazes with twisted glee could frighten the staunchest hearts. Of particular note are Joker’s “disappearing pencil trick,” the intense interrogation with The Bat, and his disturbingly comic attack on Gotham General Hospital. This is a Joker to fear, and for that Ledger will always be remembered.

Not to be outdone by Ledger, Christian Bale and Aaron Eckhart bring honest pathos to The Dark Knight, shining as the two-thirds of the Knights of Gotham. Bale continues his superior performance as the earthy, troubled Bruce Wayne, this time struggling with the price of vigilante crusade. The beauty of Bale’s Batman/Bruce Wayne lies in his understated humanistic yet heroic approach. For as disturbed as Bale’s Batman is, he is very human, responding to overwhelming with real frustration and proving himself heroic by doing what no one else will, or can, do. Ably aided by his anchors Alfred (Michael Caine) and Lucius Fox (Morgan Freeman), Batman has two wise father figures whose wry humor and spot-on insight prevent Batman from becoming as twisted as his rogues. Not to be unheralded is Gary Oldman’s Lieutenant Gordon. On screen, Gordon has never been as forceful or heroic as he is in Dark Knight. In Begins, Oldman’s Gordon was developing into a fearless Serpico for the 21^st Century, an honest, courageous cop who crusaded valiantly against corruption in the Gotham PD. In Dark Knight, Oldman pushes the character even further proving that Gordon is more than Batman’s authoritative liaison, but a staunch avenger in his own right. But among these heroes of Gotham, none shine as brightly and purely as District Attorney Harvey Dent. Eckhart’s Dent is a charismatic underdog crusader in the vein of Jimmy Stewart or Spencer Tracy. Dent is decent and earnest to a fault. He truly believes that despite the overwhelming darkness Gotham can be saved. Dent’s forthrightness earns him the support of Gotham’s other crusaders, Batman and Gordon. As the three embark on a mission to save Gotham , they will go down a path of compromise, disenchantment and tragedy that affects Harvey more than the others. Watching Eckhart guide Dent into a tragic spiral is a true feat and must be seen to be truly absorbed. I will not spoil Dent’s story (even though most of us know where it’s going), but it is truly heartbreaking to see what the evil of the world can do to the even the strongest will.

Indeed, the story of The Dark Knight could shake the most solid wills. What begins as an intelligent battle of wits between criminals, cops, and vigilantes escalates into a collision of wills between heroes who may be villains and villains who exceed the limits of that title. Comparing Dark Knight to Michael Mann’s Heat is beyond fair as much of the combat is psychological. The battle between Batman and Joker is a chess game played at its highest level. Before the two ever come to blows, they engage in intense games of cat-and-mouse to see who will determine the fate of Gotham. By the end, even the audience is unsure who is more of a threat to Gotham. The fact that I can talk about the psychology of characters in a “comic book film” speaks volumes about Nolan’s achievement. Nolan has removed the stigma of the comic film, one which relegates even the best comic films to summer memories come award season, and delivered a work of cinematic art. I applaud Nolan for not being satisfied with simply adapting the source material and aiming to create something the makes the audience think. As all great art encourages debate and discussion, so does The Dark Knight. The Dark Knight gives us pause and dares us to consider the price of safety and the compromise of heroism. In an age without heroes, Nolan has given us the story of a few brave souls who gave their all in the face of a losing battle and dared to shine against the darkest night.

Heroes suck, Villains rule!

2008-07-18T13:09:00.000-07:00

With the release of The Dark Knight, and the overwhelming acclaim of Heath Ledger’s performance as The Joker, many fans and critics have cited the stories of The Joker and, potential villain, Harvey Dent as superior to Batman’s. This creates a paradox: the movie is, technically, Batman’s, but the villains prove much more interesting. Why is this? Simple. While heroes represent the best of what we could be? Noble, brave, civic-minded. Villains, while often displaying our worst traits, reflect our desire to embrace individuality and break free from social constraints. Specifically, villains have four qualities that make them infinitely more interesting than the average superhero:

Villains are agents of change
Villains are patently individual
Villains are fearless in the face of law and order (or at least they appear that way)
Villains are outlaws who exist beyond systems that maintain order

First and foremost, villains are agents of change. In most cases, villains seek to enact change on their world rather than maintain the status quo. In the case of the Joker, he wishes to toss the world into to chaos just to see what will happen. In Final Fantasy VII, Sephiroth sought to destroy, what he saw was an imperfect world. Despite terrorist tendencies, the arch nemesis of the X-Men, Magneto simply wanted to prevent the genocide of his people (mutants), and maybe create a world where his people are treated equally. Prince Nuada (Hellboy II) tried to prevent the extinction of his race (fantastic creatures), even if it meant the extinction of another, more obviously oppressive race (humans, as usual). Villains take the steps to change their world, sometimes for the better mostly for the worst. The best villains normally pave their way to hell with good intentions, consequences be damned. Unlike heroes who uphold the status quo (i.e. Superman, Green Lantern, Captain America, Iron Man, etc.) and aim to keep the world exactly as it is, villains dare to change world, whether we like it or not. Either way, you can’t hate someone for being proactive.

Second, villains are patently individual. Rarely are there two villains who are exactly alike. Villains are often more colorful than the primary color or basic black/white heroes. They have dazzling, attention grabbing costumes and weapons. Think of the Joker’s acid bathed green-purple-white-red ensemble, or maybe Green Goblin’s Halloween-style getup, or Dr. Doom’s retro-medieval toga and armor ensemble. Bottom line, most villains look cooler than heroes. Really, who wants to dress up like an intergalactic cop, wear their underwear outside a pair of tights, or drape themselves in a flag when you can rock a snazzy suit, creepy mask, or full regalia. Beyond the colorful costumes, villains operate in the grey matter of the moral spectrum. Their psychology is rarely black/white. Villains can be terrorist one day, anti-heroes the next. Magneto repeatedly works with the X-Men for the greater good. Lex Luthor constantly champions the will of the common man over the Superman. Dr. Doom once took over the world and made safer and more productive than ever. Villains break the rules because they, and in many cases they alone, look beyond the vision of the average, oppressed citizen.

Villains do not fear paragons of law and order. Most of us seize up when we see sirens in our rear view mirror, but do you think the Joker, Two-Face, or even The Sandman are worried about getting a speeding ticket. Fearlessness is a trait shared by heroes and villains. Both show courage in the face of odds that the average person cannot fathom. They will face a hail of gunfire, nuclear explosions and certain death, all in pursuit of their goal. Many of us barely have the courage to ask for a raise(though these days, that is quite risky), but can you imagine facing death for your convictions, or maybe just to get the money to feed your family.

Villains are outlaws who subvert the systems that oppress us. In almost every villain origin there is a point where the villain decides to buck the system. Two-Face chooses vigilantism over proper police procedure. Green Goblin prefers violent corporate takeovers that leave bodies and collateral damage in their wake. Lex Luthor uses money from his own business to fund any endeavor he chooses. The Joker believes in a world without rules. Or does he? Outlaws and rebels are always enticing to people who feel trapped by circumstance. They do what we wish to do. Break out. Kick ass. Take no prisoners. And live by our own rules. Their moral complexity never hampers their vision or their purpose. Rare is the villain who sits on the rooftop, musing about their daily angst. They’re too ambitious and driven to put. They know what they want and they are unafraid to go get it. They follow no rules but their own. They are devoted only to their needs and convictions. While this is less appealing than the noble, self-sacrifice of the hero, it speaks directly to the heart of man, a heart which is often selfish and petty, but always desires freedom.

Everybody Hates Hulk and Superman Returns

2008-06-30T07:06:00.000-07:00

To those who haven't been paying attention, the Summer of Superheroes is upon us! (Ah, hyperbole. The cornerstone of comics marketing.)

Superhero films kicked off the summer with the "megahit" Iron Man, which was swiftly followed by Speed Racer, The Incredible Hulk, and Wanted, with Hancock, Hellboy II, and finally The Dark Knight waiting to overtake the box office on the respective opening weekends. For comic fanboys, this summer is like a three month long trip to San Diego's lauded Comic-Con. Film and comics have collided in the perfect marriage of accurate adaptations and mainstream appeal. Now, comic films have been fairly popular since the turn of the century, but this year comic fans seem especially enthused. The root of their enthusiasm? Comic films that are not only accurate but action-packed. Fanboys finally get to see Iron Man ascend to the heavens just like in the comics, they get to see Batman tangle violently with The Joker, and, most importantly, they get to see HULK SMASH!

As more of a film fan than comic fan, the desire to see Hulk Smash concerned me as soon as the Hulk reboot (The Incredible Hulk, TIH) was announced. Message boards applauded in near unison the opportunity to see a Hulk film with more power than pathos, more action than angst. But was the last film really that bad? And for that matter were other films that took a less "popcorn" approach to comics (Superman Returns and Batman Begins) unsuccessful simply because filmmakers approached the material with reverence for the stories behind the action.

For years comic fans have complained about the lack of respect for the comics medium, yet as soon as reverence is given, it is rejected. Violently. Critics and fans cried foul when their favorite four-color characters sulked and pondered the weight of their existences instead of bashing heads. Ang Lee's Hulk, which plunged into the root of the Hulk's anger, and Bryan Singer's Superman Returns, which examined the isolation of a god, have been the major targets of this vitriol (Batman Begins escaped this torment mostly because it erased the memory of lesser attempts and because it was just so damn good!) Needless to say, this condemnation is undeserved. As films, both are technically solid and true to the essence of the character. As adaptations, they probe the depths of their respective leads to create characters that are more than power fantasies. These films give each character the humanity they deserve.

I understand why this approach is unsuccessful with comic fans: as the humanity of these characters is revealed, the fantasy diminishes. If the all-powerful Superman and Hulk are too busy being depressed about the same things that bother average viewer then they are no longer fantasies. They are too human to take us from our concerns. As a non-super powered viewer, I appreciate that concern. But as a mature filmgoer, who knows that the best characters are three dimensional humans, not two dimensional gods, I am at stark (no pun intended) odds with comic fans. Characters should be fully developed, and if action is sacrificed in favor of character development, then so be it. I've seen action flicks with 2-D leads, I expect more from my heroes. And truly what is a hero who doesn't even overcome his or her own problems to save the day.

Another issue with these films was the lack of substantive villians. With Superman and Hulk, we have two heroes with less than stellar rogue's galleries and arch-nemeses that are mere mortals. Ask a non-comics fan who Superman's rogue's are and see if any one knows someone besides Lex Luthor. Same for Hulk. Can anybody name a Hulk villian? Besides the military and the angry general who always chases him and has been the villian, to some degree, in both Hulk flicks. Go ahead, I'll wait... It's hard to ask filmmakers for villains when the audience doesn't know the villains. Granted, it's the filmmaker's responsibility to establish the characters, but a known property is easier to sell than an unknown.

Ultimately, the choice to appreciate or denigrate these films belongs to each viewer. Whether you prefer action packed Hulk Smash popcorn goodness or melodramatic character exploration, the choice is yours. I prefer to see what makes these guys tick. What makes someone wear their underwear outside a pair of tights. What makes a man, or a superman, get up every morning and make it through the day.

Decompression: Writing Comics like Movies

2008-06-25T11:43:00.000-07:00

Recently, comic book writers have allowed art and visuals to tell more story than dialogue or narration. This technique is called decompression. For the uninitiated, here's a primer on this popular technique:

In comics, words and pictures combine to create dynamic, compelling stories. Despite integrating visual and textual storytelling for decades, many pre-Modern age (arguably before 1990) comic book writers emphasized text over visuals, creating short stories with pictures rather than works of visual storytelling. Recently, comic writers have begun emphasizing visuals over text in comic storytelling. This emphasis on visual storytelling is called decompression. Decompression is a comic book storytelling style that uses visuals to establish mood, develop plot, and enhance characterization. visual narration to develop story and characterization. This style is generally marked by visual mood, widescreen panels, nuanced characterization, and multi-part stories, or story arcs. Decompression rapidly gained popularity in the late 1990s and early 2000s due to the influence of decompressed-style comics such as The Authority and Ultimate Spider-Man. Despite its popularity, decompression has been criticized for contributing to slower pacing and plot padding.

Pre-Modern age comic creators established mood and developed character through text and dialogue. In decompressed-style comics, mood is revealed through widescreen panels that display establishing shots, reaction shots, and atmosphere effects. Comic writers instruct artists to use widescreen panels to convey mood without in-depth textual description. Widescreen panels are panels with oversized illustrations, similar to film storyboards; these panels allow creators to establish mood, progress plot, and depict characterization through visual, rather than textual, narration. Comic writers collaborate with illustrators to create widescreen-style visuals, which emulate a cinematic feel. Full-page illustrations, or Splash pages, panoramic scenery shots, and tight close-ups are examples of widescreen visual techniques. Widescreen panels usually have a low text bubble count, which keeps the focus on visuals. This technique contrasts pre modern-age comic panels, which contained considerable text and smaller visuals.

Characterization is another major focus in decompressed storytelling. Decompressed-style writers explore character through visuals, dialogue, and character interaction more than narration or character monologues. Decompressed-style writers encourage collaborating illustrators to develop close-up shots of characters to clearly display the characters’ reactions. Additionally, writers craft dialogue that focuses more on motivation and introspection than exposition. In decompressed comics, character examination and development takes precedence over plot progression. As a result, plot progression is rather slower paced in decompressed comics. Slow plot progression creates multi-part stories. Multi-part stories, or a story-arc, unfold over the course of more than one monthly issue. Prior to the rise of decompression, comic stories were primarily self-contained, single-issue stories. Most decompressed story arcs are released in four to six issues, and, upon completion, collected in a bound format known as the trade paperback. Trade paperbacks are valuable for allowing readers to catch up without having to seek single issues.

The rise of the trade paperback format led to decompressed storytelling becoming the dominant storytelling style in American comics between in the late 90s and the early 2000s. Despite its recent popularity, the origins of decompression can be traced to the early 1980s and Frank Miller’s Ronin. Following influences from Japanese comics, or manga, writer-artist Frank Miller created a six-issue story that diverged from the style of American comics. Manga utilize a visual narrative style that, due to cheaper printing costs and weekly publishing schedules, focuses on character more than plot. Miller used splash pages and visual panels, some sans text, to establish mood and explore the protagonist’s emotional journey. Through the efforts of writers like Miller, decompression slowly became the preferred storytelling style among comic writers. The manga invasion of the late 80s and early 90s would empower the decompression trend that swept the industry near the end of the decade. Manga became a major force in the comic scene due to importing and sales of collected manga editions, or tankoubon, by major booksellers. Consequently, comic creators began using manga visual and narrative styles to reach audiences enthralled by the manga invasion.

In addition to trade paperbacks and manga, the popularity of superstar artists also contributed to the rise of decompression. Superstar artists, like Jim Lee, Todd McFarlane and Rob Liefeld, were popular for their stylized approaches to comic art. They used their popularity to develop comics where visuals dominated the narrative. By 2001, decompressed comics became the standard, due in large part to the commercial success of titles such as Wildstorm Comics’ The Authority and Marvel Comics’ Ultimate Spider-Man. These factors, combined with successful trade paperback sales, led to decompression becoming the dominant storytelling style in domestic comics. Additionally, trade paperbacks flourished because of comics increasing niche-style market and the growth of national bookseller chains. Today, many comic writers write for the trade. Writing for trade is, essentially, plotting a contained story arc that can be easily collected.

Notable decompressed style writers include Warren Ellis, Brian Michael Bendis and Mark Millar. Warren Ellis’ twelve-issue run on The Authority was one of the first critically and financially successful decompressed titles. Ellis’ The Authority is often regarded as the standard of decompression by many modern comic writers. Brian Michael Bendis is also recognized as a prominent, if controversial, writer of decompressed comics. He is known for using decompression on Marvel titles Ultimate Spider-Man, New Avengers, House of M, and Secret Invasion. Bendis is praised for a deft ability with dialogue and deep characterization. But he is reviled for slow pacing and producing issues with scant plot progression. Mark Millar gained acclaim as writer of two volumes of the critically praised The Ultimates. Millar continued in the tradition of Ellis’ The Authority with The Ultimates where he used decompression to deconstruct popular heroes, in this case Marvel’s revered The Avengers. Millar, along with artist collaborator Brian Hitch, perfected the art of combining widescreen visuals with decompressed storytelling to produce cinematic-style, or widescreen, comics. Titles known for utilizing decompression include Marvel Comic’s Ultimate Spider-Man, The Ultimates, Astonishing X-Men, New Avengers and Wildstorm’s The Authority. Among major publishers, Marvel Comics produces more decompressed style comics than any other publisher.

Decompression has garnered a great deal of controversy due to its divergence from traditional comic storytelling norms. Before decompression, most comics were either an anthology of multiple short stories or single issue, “one-and-done,” narratives. Decompression while praised for deep characterization, palpable mood and engaging visuals is often criticized for slow pacing and padded plotlines. Fans of compressed storytelling find decompressed comics to be financially taxing, as it requires purchasing more issues to obtain a complete story. Financial limitations and preferences for fast paced storytelling have led many fans to criticize decompression. Some creators are reversing the trend by reintroducing compression to comics. Marvel Comics’ Nextwave and The Thing are contemporary examples of compressed comics. However, most modern compressed comics share similarities with decompressed comics including widescreen visuals and deep characterization. But the two styles differ in approaches to plot progression. Plot progression in compressed comics is fast paced with storylines wrapped within one or two issues. Recently the gap between compressed and decompressed comics narrowed as comic creators integrated both styles in titles like Image comics’ Fell and DC Comics’ Pride of Baghdad.

The rise of decompression signals a shift in comics from niche market to mainstream consumption. Competition from other entertainment mediums forced comic publishers to develop a format that appeals to modern audiences while maintaining the basic nature of the comic medium. Decompressed storytelling incorporates universally recognized entertainment conventions, such as widescreen visuals and nuanced characterization, to create comics that appeal to a wider audience. In addition, the practice of writing for trade encourages a streamlined collection of issues that allows readers to quickly catch up with ongoing plots. Despite surrounding controversy, decompression is the preferred storytelling style among comic creators. Decompression integrates visuals and text in a manner pleasing to seasoned collectors and new readers, while pushing the medium beyond its “one and done” roots.

Metal Gear Solid 4: The Summer's Best Movie?

2008-06-20T08:38:00.000-07:00

Last night, I finished a rigorous one week campaign through Playstation 3's newest hit, Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of The Patriots (MGS4). After completing this enthralling experience, I must say that MGS4 was easily the best movie I've seen this summer.

Hideo Kojima's tactical espionage action epic follows the adventures of covert ops legendary badass, Solid Snake. A journey which began in 1987 with the Nintendo classic Metal Gear culminates with this year's release. What began as a humble, yet innovative, action game evolved into a gaming experience of epic proportions (yes, I'm overusing epic, but the franchise deserves the distinction.) In 1998, Kojima revolutionized action gaming with for Playstation. Metal Gear Solid. Metal Gear Solid, while not the first chapter of Kojima's opus, initiated the franchise that concludes with MGS4.

As many online game mags have proclaimed, MGS4 is a masterpiece of gameplay and storytelling. The game seamlessly weaves near-flawless CGI cutscenes into white knuckle stealth action gameplay. While the gameplay keeps gamers on the edge of their nerves, the amazing storyline is what pushes gamers to engage in marathon sessions just to see what's next. Culminating twenty years of storytelling into one neat package is no easy task, but Kojima has achieved this masterfully. MGS4 tells the tale of Solid Snake's final mission as he races to prevent his evil brother from achieving world domination. wraps a storyline the traces from the end of WWII to the future or Global Warfare. The plot involves seemingly absurd twists and turns, including cloning, possession, superhumans, and computer-controlled societies. Themes in MGS4 range from the dangers of technology to the conflict between man and machine to post traumatic stress to the price of war to the price of freedom, and even discussions on the concepts of fate and destiny. Heavy stuff for a video game, but maybe it's not. While fans of MGS4 are used to the depth of Kojima's games, gamers and the general public is becoming increasingly aware that video games are viable storytelling medium, easily on par with feature films. Indeed, Kojima has proven the point in one masterful stroke with this game.

What really makes this game a better movie than most of this summer's fare is the combination of depth and extravaganza. In MGS4, we have deep three dimensional characters with passions, pet peeves and problems (some of whom have been developed for over twenty years.). We also have amazing action set pieces--some interactive, some not--that rival the best action scenes from the biggest blockbusters. The battles in MGS4 (especially Acts 2 and 4) are easily on par with , if not better than, the best action scenes in the Bourne Ultimatum, Black Hawk Down, and Transformers, respectively. And most importantly, the plot is simple at its core, man's struggle for freedom, but contains clever, and occasionally obtuse, plot twists that reinforce the themes of the story while constantly raising the emotional and physical stakes for the characters.

So far this summer we've seen a man don an iron suit to fight terrorists, an aging adventurer battle communists, child knights fight mythological beasts, a daring candy colored racer outwit a domineering corporation, and a big green man fight the military. While each film has its merits and flaws, none come close to achieving the storytelling magic of MGS4. MGS4 moves you and thrills you. It makes you think beyond making it to the next save point. It makes you question the very act of playing a military simulation, while playing a military simulation. MGS4 is a masterpiece on so many levels it's ridiculous. If this game is ever translated to film (which, according to the rumor mill, it will), I hope the translation can retain even a fraction of the quality of this masterpiece. Way to go Snake. Way to go Kojima.