Girl in a Cage

Comic book roundup

Well, I bought a bunch of comic books recently. Never a good sign for me personally--when I find myself reaching for the cranial comfort food, it usually means I'm under stress. Be that as it may, I have some thoughts.

I bought the first three issues of Moon Knight, mostly because I heard Charlie Huston was writing it and I loved his novel Already Dead. I have to say my reaction was mixed. Value-for-money wise, there's basically one issue's worth of story in the first three issues, and while the art looks great, I found it kind of confusing. There's a lot of flashing back and forward and panels put in weird orders and a couple of bad guys who look nearly identical, so I had to keep switching back and forth going, "Wait, is that the same guy that got his face ripped off before?" It's a comic book. I shouldn't have to work that hard. I guess it might be easier to follow if you read Moon Knight back in the day, but back in the day I had precious little allowance money to spend on comics, and I figured if I wanted Batman I'd just buy Batman.

Man Bat! What else do I have to say, except Man Bat, Man Bat, Man Bat!

Conan: Book of Thoth. No Conan, strangely, and hence the entire series was light on the beheadings. But, overall, a very involving tale of personal and political corruption.

Did I mention Man Bat?

Rock: The Prophecy. Oh, Sgt. Rock goes against everything I believe in as a good liberal pacifist, but how can I resist when Rock yells "Flatten, Easy!" and those combat-happy joes from Easy Company hit the deck, machine guns screaming "Budda-budda!"

Wonder Woman. Despite the formative role the tv series had in my life, I never really read the comic book. I do remember the Ms. Magazine cover with Wonder Woman on it hanging around my house in the early '70's. Apparently Gloria Steinem convinced a generation of feminists that a woman spilling out of her top wearing star spangled hotpants and weilding golden dominatrix gear was some kind of feminist icon. Which is probably why I was allowed to watch the tv show as a lad. God bless you, Gloria Steinem! Anyway, I found this one strangely poignant. It's all about feeling like an imposter, feeling unworthy, feeling incompetent, feeling like you can't measure up to those who came before you. I mean sure, it was still a superhero comic, but it was all about feelings that seemed pretty real. Thumbs up.

And, of course, Man Bat, who, as super villlains go, is no Gorilla Grodd, super-intelligent evil gorilla from space, but still nothing to sneeze at.

Monster House

We all went to see Monster House yesterday. In 3D! It totally rocked! It's something I haven't really ever seen before, which is a horror movie for kids. I mean, I've seen movies for kids with ghosts in them and stuff, but this movie is definitely majoring in scary, minoring in funny. (In fact, it was too scary for one of our children, who shall remain nameless so as to protect his or her street cred. Because, you know, mad elementary school students read my blog.) It reminded me a lot of a John Bellairs book. We've read several, and they are terrifying and excellent--haven't come across a dud yet, and the very mention of The Mansion in the Mist is enough to give certain of the kids the willies. Ray Bradbury's horror books for kids are excellent too. In fact, both of those guys wrote horror books for kids that are way better than most horror books for adults. Similarly, Monster House is a horror movie for kids that is actually way better than most horror movies for adults. I mean, I enjoy a gore fest as much as, or possibly more than, the next guy, but most horror movies just don't have much in them that is actually scary, whereas this one does. Sure, there's no gratuitous nudity, but, on the positve side, there are no spring-loaded cats either. Also, no talking animals, and while some minor celebrities provide voices, it's not a celebrity voice showcase either. It's just a really good scary movie for kids. (And, as it turns out, adults!)

Mr. Boognish Risin'

I must confess I've never been much of a Ween fan. Oh, sure, like anyone with a minor in religious studies (not true! I never did the paperwork!), I'm intrigued by the theology of GodWeenSatan: The Oneness. I mean, they're obviously some kind of radical Unitarian band with an album title like that.

I also know that they go on about something called Boognish, or possibly The Boognish. Not exactly sure what a Boognish is, but I think my friend's level-12 ranger smote one with a Wand of Lordly Might once.

Anyway, my friend Dan burned me a copy of Ween's 12 Modern Country Classics, and I have to say it's a hell of a country album. I was surprised that it is, for the most part, a real country album and not a goof. Even the goofy, raunchy "Piss Up a Rope" comes from a long tradition of country breakup songs, and is no more (or less) of a goof than that song from a year or two ago which I believe was called "It's Hard to Kiss the Lips at Night (that chew your ass out all day long)" Anyone who's ever been hung over can probably relate to "Help Me Scrape the Mucus Off My Brain" and, "I Don't Want To Leave You on the Farm" sounds more like NRBQ to me than a country song, but it's still very good.

But then there's "Mr. Richard Smoker," which is homophobic, but I was more offended by its incredible stupidity. I mean, I know this band began as two dorks in their basement, but this song really sounds like a couple of twelve year olds thinking that it's, like, totally hilarious that guys, you know, do it with guys. Oh, that's funny stuff!

Still, 9 out of the 10 tracks on 12 Modern Country Classics are big winners, and that's a much better ratio than you get on most albums.

Gwyneth Paltrow and the Peril of the Bluescreen

I caught Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow the other night and really liked it. The look of the movie was so cool, and I think it succeeded almost completely in being exactly what it wanted to be, which was kind of a '30's adventure serial if they had had cool CGI effects. I mean, giant robots smashing stuff! Planes that turn into subs! Angelina Jolie in an eyepatch! What's not to like?

Well, as it turns out, Gwyneth Paltrow. Now, I mean, I know Gwyneth can act--I seen Shallow Hal and totally believed she was a fat chick!--so I guess she just chose not to in this movie, or else the director was too busy with the CGI to try to get a decent performance out of her. I mean, I knew the whole movie was CGI except for the actors, but I bought the illusion in every scene except the ones where Gwyneth, bored expression on her face, was not really acting very scared as she almost got crushed by giant robots. Or as her plane plunged into the sea. Etc.

It made me appreciate the acting chops of even somebody like, I don't know, that girl who played Kitty Pride in X-Men: the last stand. We think of these big effects-driven movies as not being acting showcases, but it turns out that it takes some serious acting skill to stand against a blue screen and pretend something's happening, which I never really appreciated until I saw Gwyneth Paltrow not doing it.

Hoodwinked

We bought Hoodwinked for the kids to watch on a car trip a while back, and they were totally obsessed with it. I mean, much more obsessed with it than I've seen them be about any other movie. They watched it like three times in the first week we had it, which is not normal behavior for them. I finally watched it all the way through, and it's great. It's kind of a Rashomon version of Little Red Riding Hood, with great, catchy songs, cool action, and a script that shows some brainpower and doesn't just try to shamelessly manipulate the audience. It's got stuff for the grownups (like "Fletch" references!), but it doesn't feel insincere the way the Shrek movies do. (I don't know--Shrek just never did it for me.) Best of all, from my point of view, no dead moms! I mean, sure, Red's parents are absent, but it's not remarked on. So either nothing tragic happened or whatever tragedy happened is not defining her life. Either way, I'm fine. I suppose the whole "Extreme sports granny" thing is a bit cliched, but this leads to some great cartoon action, so I couldn't really complain. I'll make the same plea for this one that I did for Nanny McPhee--vote with your wallet and show 'em that you can make money if you make a movie for kids that doesn't suck. Just having a movie in the house that the kids are obsessed with that I can stand to watch at all really makes me feel like I spent my money well.

Saints and Madmen

I'm reading a fantastic book-- City of Saints and Madmen, by Jeff Vandermeer. It's a really entertaining collection of stories that take place in the imaginary city of Ambergris. I guess it's fantasy, though of course that conjures up images of, like, Boris Vallejo-drawn buxom warrior maidens in chain mail bikinis, or the work of Robert Jordan, or any of the other horrible crap we have Tolkein to thank for. (Don't get me wrong--I like Tolkein, except for all the songs and the whole Tom Bombadil thing, and, oh yeah, the racism, but, like Bob Dylan, he opened the floodgates, and hoards of less talented imitators spilled out.)

I guess you could possibly call it "urban fantasy," but that still has the ring of something like... well, this.

Whatever you want to call it, it takes place in an imaginary city on what I guess is an imaginary world, and it reminds me a lot of China Mieville's work. If Vandermeer doesn't really have the awe-inspiring, prodigious imagination that Mieville has (but who does? His observations of his invented world are way more detailed than my observations of the world I actually live in), he does have something Mieville lacks, which is a sense of humor. (I should say, Mieville's work doesn't really evidence a sense of humor. He may be the life of the party in person. What do I know.). This book is a ton of fun to read, thought provoking and entertaining and playful.

Outside My Purview

Three thoughts from outside my stated purview of popular culture:
Fine art: Went to the Wyeth exhibit at the Philadelphia Art Museum (I get around! From town to town! I'm a real cool head! I'm spendin' all my bread! Don't know how I'm gonna heat my house in the winter! Ahh, the Beach Boys probably never had that particular problem), and my feelings were mixed. For one thing, our tickets only allowed us to enter the exhibit at 11:30, which I kinda assumed meant I wouldn't have to fight my way through ten people to see each painting. Wrong. Some of the paintings were great--"Jack Be Nimble" was probably my favorite--but, overall, I mean, Jesus, you've seen one off-white empty room, you've kinda seen 'em all. Oooh, this one has boots in it! Look, some dishes that are not holding food! I mean, okay, it's kinda creepy and death-obsessed, which I like, but would it kill you to use some freaking color once in a while?

In the food realm: Go see the Amish people at Philadelphia's Reading Terminal Market for the best soft pretzel on earth. I ate two. With butter.

And, randomly, a sports thought that people who write about sports have probably said about a hundred times already, but here goes: if baseball's Golden Age of Steroid Abuse cheapens the achievement of hitters in the last ten or fifteen years, how much more amazing is the achievement of pitchers who were able to be dominant during this time? I mean, if you look at Randy Johnson, Pedro Martinez, Curt Schilling, even, though it pains me terribly to say this, Roger Clemens, just imagine what their ERA's would have been if they weren't facing musclebound, shrunken-testicled cheaters who could turn fly ball outs into home runs?

It's a Bird, it's a plane!

Took the boy and two of his friends to Superman Returns yesterday. (And let me say chaperoning three nine-year-olds at a superhero movie is probably something it's okay to eliminate from your "things to do before I die" list). Shushing from other annoyed movie patrons aside, (and let me now use the speech I was preparing for the two stereotypical comic-book geeks who kept shushing us: "You are at a superhero movie in the middle of the day in the summer! You have to expect there will be kids here! If you want a kid-free movie experience, go to some art-house movie at night! Or better yet, stop going to comic book movies altogether, you joyless, loveless lumps of goo!") my feelings about the movie were mixed.

On the one hand, the movie did deliver a sizeable number of popcorn-movie thrills, and it was cool to see Supes saving the day. And Jimmy Olson nearly steals the movie, and might have succeeded had Kevin Spacey and Parker Posey not been busily chewing scenery every time they were on screen. (Don't get me wrong--I loved it. Ham it up! It's a comic book movie!)

And yet, we have the Bryan Singer problem surfacing again. Two and a quarter hours! Dude, this movie is based on a format you can finish in a trip to the can! Edit! I probably wouldn't have had to endure so much shushing from the other theater patrons if the movie hadn't had these long, slow stretches where not much is going on.

And we have the Superman problem, which is that the character isn't all that interesting. This was compounded by the fact that the actor (name escapes me--Brandon somebodyorother) playing Superman wears this weird blank-eyed stare through pretty much the whole movie. Can't really blame him, since the script gives him nothing to work with and it was probably the director's choice anyway, but still.

As a former mandated reporter of abuse and neglect, I nearly called the Department of Social Services on Lois Lane. Bad mom! (if you see the movie, you'll know what I'm talking about) And, I mean, it was a little hard to believe that she was gainfully employed as a star Daily Planet reporter five years before the action of the movie begins, since the actress who plays her was seventeen five years before the movie was shot.

Finally--poor James Marsden. In three X-men movies, he plays the nice guy Jean Gray is stuck with though she obviously wants Wolverine, and here he's the nice guy Lois Lane is stuck with though she obviously wants Superman. If I were him, I'd be demanding some more studly roles before he's typecast as Supercuckold.

Keep on compressin'

So I saw this article in the Globe the other day. If you don't feel like clicking over, it basically says how things were better in my day, a whole generation is missing so much of the music because they own songs that have been compressed into MP3s, etc. etc. Apparently the compression process makes the Damned's "New Rose" "nearly unlistenable" on an ipod.

Funny, I listen to that song in MP3 form probably once a week and haven't suffered much. Audiophiles are annoying. I mean, sure, music sounds better uncompressed and booming out of high-end equipment, but most people don't have high end equipment. And a whole generation grew to love rock and roll listening to it primarily on AM radio and those flip-top record players. The sound was absolute crap, but the songs were good and the performances were energetic, and that comes through even when the sound isn't great.

I think lots of musicians spend all this time in the studio layering tracks and tinkering with the drum sounds until they have a soulless, dead performance that sounds perfect coming through those amazing speakers they have in recording studios, when if they'd just concentrate on writing good songs and playing the hell out of them, they'd probably be making way better records. When you think about all the amazing songs that were recorded live in the studio, it's kind of amazing that so few people actually record that way anymore. I guess the studios have all these toys, and it must be difficult to avoid the temptation to use them. But recording live would be cheaper, faster, and probably better. I rarely find myself humming a good drum sound.